#i think my eyelid is also swelling up again which is part of why my astigmatism seems worse than usual lmao

[ryssbelle]

by far the coolest piece I've done so far, Day 6 of Linktober and Inktober: Mask and Golden

click for better quality

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Let Me Feel You For a While

Pairing - Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW SMUT DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR PLEASE!!! Breeding kink (im sorry), slight blood, marking/biting, accidental voyeurism? THIGH RIDING YES PLEASE, AND SHARP TEETH MAKE ME DROOL. Oh btw spoilers for the Farewell Archaic Lord I think? General spoiler warning for genshin.

Word Count - 1.7k.

 Other Comments - You guys have NO IDEA how much I love Zhongli oh my god I love him. I slept on him at first but ever since my eyes were opened I realized how wrong I was for that. Anyway enjoy!!

@sadpsychologist @barbqtos​

      Zhongli had money, he was just dumb and never brought it with him; too used to the routine of just making more Mora if he ever needed to buy anything while he was an Archon. This being said, that also meant he had one of the most elaborate bedrooms you’d ever laid eyes on. The room was filled with rich browns and shimmering golds, his bed sheets made from the finest silks. Archons never really slept, which meant the Zhongli had made this room as ethereal as possible just for you. 

     You were laying across the cold white gold sheets, hair clinging to your forehead from the sweat. Your fingers were dancing around your clit, rubbing harshly at times before dipping into your wet cunt and pumping them in and out roughly. You were so horny it was uncomfortable, and since you had gotten accustomed to your lover's large member, your fingers were doing much for you. You needed something better. You shakily stood from the bed, before kneeling down and pulling out the box and you guys only got into when the two of you were really in the mood. You quickly found what you were looking for, as it was the largest thing in the box. You pulled the dildo out of the box before quickly shoving the box back under your bed.

     Zhongli didn’t really like when you took matters into your own hands, as he wanted to always be the one thing that made you melt. He wanted to pleasure you in ways that you never would have imagined. At this point you were quickly pumping the dildo in and out of yourself, lost in the pleasure as you moaned out loudly. You weren’t worried about anyone hearing since you were alone in the house and Zhongli wasn’t going to be home for a while. You can imagine your shock and horror when you opened your eyes to see Zhongli standing in the doorway, dick already straining hard against the large man’s dress pants.

     “Ah you finally noticed my presence.” Your face was even redder when those words left his lips. How long had he been standing there watching you fuck yourself roughly with the large silicone tool. You let out a low whimper, beginning to pump the object in and out of yourself again, too worked up to be embarrassed. You heard Zhongli chuckle lightly before the loud sounds of his dress shoes against the hardwood floor could be heard. You felt Zhongli’s gloved hands halt your movements before brushing your hand away and pulling the dildo out, setting it aside for cleaning at a later time. Soft desperate whimpers falling from your mouth as your chest heaved up and down. Zhongli pressed soft kisses to your face, his gloved hands running up and down your naked body, brushing against your nipples causing you to jolt.

     “You’re so sensitive my dear.” Your hands were looking for purchase on any part of his body, finally landing on his strong biceps. You squeezed his arms hard, wiggling around and continuing to whimper.

     “Nothing feels as good as you Zhongli, please… please help me. Fill me Zhongli, stuff me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your lips swollen from chewing on them.

     “Well it looked like you were having a good time with the dildo sweetheart.” Warm embarrassment bloomed in your chest and you desperately tried to pull Zhongli down by his collar. Zhongli’s lips attacked your, passionately biting at yours, Zhongli’s sharp canines drawing blood before he swiped it away with a quick flick of his tongue.

     He continued this assault on your flesh as he went lower. He made sure to mark you anywhere that was visible, it made his pride swell when he saw you walking around Liyue trying and failing to cover up bitemarks and deep purple hickies. Zhongli pulled back to admire his work, before propping himself up on the edge of the bed. Strong arms manhandled you, forcing you to straddle his thigh. You blushed profusely when you realized what Zhongli wanted you to do.

     “But- but your pants Zhongli, I don’t want to ruin them…” A small smile and eyes filled with pure admiration poured into yours. He carded his fingers through your hair, pushing back any strays behind your ear in the process.

     “My dearest, you have always been so considerate, but for tonight don’t worry about anything, just do what comes natural to you. My clothes can be cleaned, and if not I will buy another pair.” Zhongli’s hands gripped your hips tightly, starting to move you back and forth on his thigh. You clit was ecstatic to finally be getting some friction, moans already being ripped from your throat. The ex archons dick was uncomfortably hard, outline clear as day from how hard it was straining against his slacks. Once you finally got yourself into a rhythm he let one of his hands fall from your hips, giving in and palming himself through the thick fabric.

     You moans began increasing in volume and frequency as you got closer and closer to the edge. You gripped onto Zhongli’s broad shoulders, your body quickly becoming tired. The man in front of you noticed this, letting his hand return to your hip as he helped steady your rhythm once again. Tears were threatening to fall from how good you felt, everything starting to become light and fuzzy as you continued to get closer to your climax.

     With a couple more rough thrust against his leg, the coil deep in your gut snapped, sending waves of please surging through your body. Your back arched hard before slumping into Zhongli’s chest. He kept your hips moving, letting your ride out your orgasm on his now soiled pants.

     “My love, do you still want me to fill you up?” Zhongli’s voice brought you back to reality, where you realized how hard he was. The thought of Zhongli filling you to the brim reignited the fire that was just extinguished in you. You nodded reverently before rolling off his thigh and onto your back, presenting yourself to him. A low groan sounded from Zhongli’s throat as you spread your leg wide, the site of you littered with markings making his brain go fuzzy; his only focus now on making you both feel good. You’ve never seen Zhongli rip off his close at such a speed before, until he was stark naked and crawling on top of you; caging your head with his arms.

      Once again Zhongli began to attack your neck, except not as rough, not wanting to cause more pain than pleasure. Without warning, he slammed his dick into you, since you had already worked yourself open for him. Despite this, your walls still clung tightly to him, his large cock dragging deliciously against your walls as he hit all the right places. Both of your were on cloud nine, as he ruthlessly pounded into your.

     Normally when the two of you had sex, right before Zhongli came he would pull out and cum onto your stomach which he of course would clean up later. Not for any particular reason as to why since you were on birth control, it had just become a habit. This time however you wanted to do things a little different. You were getting close, and you could tell he was as well, as his breathing became more uneven and more low pitched noises started coming from him. Your walls fluttered around his cock, causing him to shutter and let out a low grunt. Before it was too late, you tightly wrapped your arms around the ex Archons next, and pulled him down closer so your lips were mere centimeters away from his ear.

     “Cum in me Zhongli, stuff me with your cum. I want every drop of it please I wanna feel you inside me even after you pull out. Archons please please Zhongli let me feel you cum. Breed me.” Zhongli’s eyes widened, those words causing something to snap in him as he was hit with another wave of pleasure, his thrust still maintaining their power but becoming more erratic. You could feel Zhongli’s calloused fingers rubbing quickly against your clit, sending new waves of pleasure through you. The moans coming from the two of you were matched perfectly, as the two of you got closer and closer. With a couple of final thrusts, Zhongli sheathed himself in you as deep as he could go, cumming shooting deep into you. The feeling of his cum filling you up is what sent you over the edge, cumming for the second time; your mouth falling open to form a silent scream. You could feel Zhongli beginning to ooze out of you as he pulled out, which made you shiver.

     “Let’s get you cleaned up shall we darling?” Zhongli was still a little out of breath as he stood from his position on top of you, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed a hold of him, before catching him off guard and pulling him back down.

     “Let me stay full for a little while longer.” Sleep was slowly starting to take over, as your eyelids couldn’t stay open. Your words went straight to Zhongli’s dick, but that was an issue he would take care of himself. For right now, he just pulled you into his chest, allowing you to drift off into blissful slumber.

[ascarimo]

After Class - [Professor!Lando]

A/N: Requested on Wattpad

WORDCOUNT: 2.2K+

WARNINGS: nsfw (teacher x student plot, unprotected sex)

SYNOPSIS: You're one of Lando's students, and he's your Arts professor. You have a question about a project, and therefore you ask if you can stay after class.

When reading the description of the extra course you were about to choose, you weren't exactly sure if it would be a good choice. Nevertheless, you thought a semester of art class would mean easy credits added to your study, and therefore you selected the course, taking it next to the other courses of your study. Art and design had always interested you, especially the designing of clothing, and it would also be fun to take this course as an extra effort. Ever since you met the professor of the course, Professor Norris, it was your favorite course. The Brit taught the class four hours a week, a lecture and a seminar. You had to admit that his good looks and his charming, bright character are the main part why you loved the course as well. The exam period was coming up soon, and for the art class, Mr. Norris gave his class the assignment to design their own clothing line.

And it was harder than you thought. Two weeks before the exam period, Professor Norris gave his students the time to work on it in class, where they could ask him questions as well. After the last seminar, all the students had three more weeks to finish the project and hand it in. You were struggling with the color scheme, yet confident about the design. You felt like you were stuck in your project, and whatever you tried, it didn't seem to work. Luckily, you had the chance to ask your professor today. You were right on time for his class to start, and with your laptop, you sat down in one of the middle rows of the classroom. The seminar group was small, which you liked, as the setting was a lot cozier with just eight students, instead of a large group. Professor Norris hopped on his desk, looking around the class. He was wearing a ripped pair of jeans, a slightly large shirt, and some sneakers he had designed and created himself.

"Good afternoon, everyone, we're just going to repeat the seminar from last week. You have the time to work on your projects and ask about anything you need help with. Feel free to put some headphones on or anything," Professor Norris told his students, which made most of them nod in agreement. You looked up at him, his lips twitching upwards when his eyes met yours. You smiled back at him before starting up your laptop, logging into your account, and selecting the file of your project. You scrolled through it, silence filling the classroom as everyone was either busy or on their phone. You looked around, waiting for the first one to step towards Professor Norris' desk, but neither of the others did. You were hesitant to ask him something so soon, just after the start of the class. You remained seated for a while, however, he seemed to notice your pondering, and when you looked up again, he stood at your table. "What are you working on?" Mr. Norris asked.

"Ehm, well..." You started with a soft laugh. "I started on this, but I don't like it a lot," you admitted, turning your laptop to show him, feeling slightly nervous. He leaned his hands on the table, and your eyes glided over his arms, the veins bulging up over his tanned skin. You were quick to divert your eyes elsewhere. "What don't you like about it?" he asked. "It's too basic. I think it needs more... me" "You." You said at the same time, causing you to laugh softly, and so did he. "Think of something that describes your life, your personality, think of symbols or sayings that mean a lot to you, and try to work that in. You have a great base, so just some more creativity is needed," Professor Norris told you, and you looked into his eyes. You nodded slowly, feeling your face growing hot under his gaze. "Thank you," you choked out, gnawing your teeth into your bottom lip as he gave you a grin. Mr. Norris was young, about your age, and he was doing his internship at your university, and he was undeniably hot.

You were continuing on your project throughout the class, yet you were still not satisfied with the current look of it. You weren't sure what kind of things to design along with it, and you decided to stay behind to ask some more. "Mr. Norris? Would it be okay for me to stay behind for some minutes?" you asked, standing up as the others did so too. "Of course," Lando replied to you, wishing the others a great day and good luck with their projects. Your eyes glided over his appearance once more. You liked that his style was different from the other professors, who were dressed in tight suits. He was young, seemed the have the same mindset as his students, which automatically caused his classes to be so much more fun. The other students now walked out of the classroom, and you picked up your laptop to take it to his desk. "To improve the design I'd like to see it in 3D, but I can't get this programme to work," you sighed.

"You do have the updated version downloaded, right?" Professor Norris asked, moving next to you and glancing at your screen. "Yes," you replied. "Some of the functions are hidden a little, let me try," Lando took your laptop, briefly watching when you leaned back against his desk. The skirt you were wearing looked very flattering on you, but Lando diverted his eyes from your figure. He was distracted by the move you made when leaning against his desk with your hands, pushing your upper body slightly forward, the off-shoulder blouse you were wearing nearly showed the swell of your cleavage. Lando cleared his throat, swallowing hard as he opened the menu on the designing program on your laptop. "Could you get the charger, please?" Lando asked then, the battery was still 30 percent, but he watched you nod and turn around to your bag.

His teeth dug into his lower lip when your skirt floated around your legs, the material riding slightly upwards from the movement when you picked up your bag and got the charger out. "Thanks," Lando muttered. "If you come on my side, I can show you how it works," Lando said then, and you made your way around his desk. He was close to you, and you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His long fingers were pointing to the screen, making your eyes dart over to them instead. The pull in your lower abdomen worsened each time his hands came in sight, making you squeeze your thighs together subtly. "Is it understandable?" Lando asked. "J-just once more how to activate..." Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers brushed over the back of your thighs. "To activate?" Lando hummed.

Professor Norris rose from his seat, and you looked up at him meanwhile, words stuck in your mouth. "Tell me, darling," he ushered, making a step forward. The back of your thighs hit his desk, and you shuffled onto it. "I-I think it's clear now," you stammered. "Are you sure? You can stay a little longer if you want," Professor Norris replied while his fingertips trailed up your legs, feeling the soft material of your skirt. "Unless I make you uncomfortable," he was quick to add, and you looked into his bright eyes. You shook your head, your lashes fluttering when his lips hovered over yours. "This is so inappropriate," you muttered, feeling his lips on yours. "But you're so pretty, and we're the same age," he replied, giving you a taste of his lips. "My best student," Lando continued, his hands curling around your waist.

"That's not true," you laughed, gnawing down on your bottom lip when his nose nuzzled against your cheek, a sweet peck following. "Always so sweet in the middle row, working so hard," Lando told you, his fingers riding up the material of your blouse, feeling your bare skin. "Let me reward you, darling," his voice was husk, raspy in your ear, and you were addicted to the scent of his cologne that lingered around him. You adored the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your waist. Lando lifted his head and finally kissed your lips, humming lowly when he felt the pressure of your mouth kissing him back. His tongue glided over the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss. You joined the sway of his tongue, feeling your body heating up. Lando shivered lightly when he felt your fingers weaving into the curls in the nape of his neck.

His hands traveled over your lower back to your behind, his palms squeezing your hips before pulling you a little more forward. You whimpered softly when he kissed the corner of your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. A shiver ran up your spine when he kissed the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling and sucking down your throat while one of his hands slipped under your skirt. "We've got to be quick, my love. Another class will be here in fifteen minutes," Lando apologized. Your mind could barely process what he said as soon as his hand squeezed the apex of your thigh, his fingertips brushing over the lace edge of your panties. You hummed softly when three of Lando's fingers moved over your clothed core. The feeling of your damp panties made him twitch in his jeans, and he started to stimulate your clothed nub of nerve endings to get you soaking. After teasing you shortly, he shoved your panties aside, and you looked down at his hand.

You bunched your skirt up around your waist, watching his fingers flex and the muscles in his arms tightening when he entered you swiftly. Your head fell back with a moan, but his lips were soon back on yours to shush you. "Sssh, be quiet, babe. It's our little secret," Lando whispered against your lips, his fingers curling up against your front wall right away, his thumb circling over your pulsing clit while he created the most delicious rhythm. His fingers stimulated the most sensitive spots, and had you trembling on his desk within a couple minutes. "Such a good girl," Professor Norris praised, watching your eyelids flutter while he felt your walls getting wetter and tighten around his digits. You cursed under your breath, trying your hardest to remain silent while your orgasm ripped through you. Lando licked his fingers clean, undoing his jeans and zipping down the denim.

His underwear was pushed out of the way, and his palm wrapped around his shaft that stood tall. The girth of his cock, the veins running over them, caused your mouth to water. Lando pulled you a little more to the edge of his desk, the round head of his length briefly moving through your folds before he bottomed you out right away. There was no time to go slow, and his pace went to fucking you into his desk with a hard, deep pace that had you nearly whining under the firm grip of his hands on your hips. It was so good, it felt so amazing, raw, hot, and the fact that he's your professor and you're his student nearly tipped you over the edge right away. "That's it, love," Lando grunted lowly when your core contracted around him, walls squeezing him tight. The tip of his cock brushed over your gathering of nerve endings each time, creating the state of frenzy you floated in.

Lando looked down at your blissed out expressions, admiring the furrow of your eyebrows, and your lips parted with soft breaths. Your hands were curled around his lower arms, your nails digging slightly into his skin. The white hot pleasure washed over you soon enough, briefly blurring your vision. The throbbing of his release against your inner walls prolonged the feeling of ecstasy. Lando reached for some tissues, helping you to clean up a little before you pulled your panties up again, and you adjusted your skirt and your blouse. Lando did the same, then moved to open some windows to let in some fresh air, which caused you both to laugh. You went to get your bag, and meanwhile Lando shoved a note your way. "This is my number, in case you need some more help with your project," he said, a grin curling his lips.

"Thanks," you chuckled, taking the note with you. "Maybe we can discuss it over dinner this weekend, you can text me your availability," he continued, approaching you again while you held onto the handles of your bag. "If you want to, of course," he added, his fingers moving under your chin and gently caressing your cheeks. "I'd love to, Professor Norris," you said, your eyes flickering up to his. His jaw slacked briefly before he grinned again. "Great, good luck with your project till then, Y/N," Lando said and walked you to the door. You smiled at him over your shoulder, walking down the hallway. Lando leaned against the door, shaking his head at himself, knowing he was crazy about you whether you were his student or not.

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[thefanbasewhore]

"Mine." || Part 2.

Summary: Din shows you who you belong to just to discover something life changing.

Warning/Content: 18+ ONLY. NSFW. Fingering, oral (female receiving/male receiving), P in V, a hint of degration, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, ROUGH SEX. Dom!Din, jealous!Din and tatted Din. I would add another tag but it would give away the ending.

Paring: Din Djarin/Female Reader

Part 1.

A/N: I also do not ever write smut, this is my first fic with full sex in it so if something does not seem right please, please let me know. Thank you, hope you all enjoy!

His lips don't give in, pressing his tongue until it feels heavy against your own. Fingertips unforgivable as they sting your skin with how rough he was moving your face for he had a better angle to kiss you at. He's ruthless, pissed, marking his territory, claiming you his.

Anger warmed his whole body and honestly he wasn't even sure it was jealousy anymore just the sheer fact that life has separated him from you and from his son, it's unfair. As he pulls away, brown eyes dark with meaning, lips bruised and puffy from your own. "Tell me." He urges, "You're mine, I want to hear you say the words."

Dins’s eyes following every movement of your eyes as they move from the creases in his forward to the facial hair that peppered his jaw. "You know I'm yours. I'll forever be yours Din."

His eyes are starting to soften but find you reaching for his hand to press it against the thick colum of your throat and squeezing fingers over his feeling the air restrict just enough it burns for there is just enough air passing through, making you dizzy. The deep burn of desire inside the deepest pit of your stomach just wanting him to fuck you hard, remind you that your place is with him; imaging sitting on his lap on the golden throne he will soon own, truthfully where ever the hell he wants you because you without a doubt are putty in his hands. "Please remind me, I need it so bad."

Finding yourself blaming it on how sexy he is when he's angry, the way his cheeks colored red as he pulled on the your hair, forcing you too look at him as he asked if you fucked another man. It may be that the separation from the man weighed heavy on your heart. Seven months is a long time, the lingering desire to grow. Satisfying yourself didn't even come close to him.

The soft moan against your open mouth from the words is enough to have you soaking, fingers dip into the soft fabric of the tunic, harsh fingers grasp the tie of the robe and when it doesn't budge rips it right off, throwing it over his shoulder with a snarl against your lips. "You missed me sweet girl, you need me?."

"Yes."

"Maker -." He gasps at the feeling of small hands cupping his erection through his pants, hips bucking to meet them with certainty, lips hot against your own with one goal. "Greedy girl. Not happy unless she's touching a cock."

The way he talks as if you're not even there, patronizing but oh, it makes you mewl and tut hips against his hardness which throbs underneath you. A fire inside ignites with an endless flame, desire seeping to form into the throb between your legs. A problem that only he can fix. Absolutely starved for him, his touch, his lips as they press your own. Moaning softly with praises for his good girl.

His hands arr greedy as they cup your breasts, pinching the nipples a little to rough until they puff and sting, it hurts but he doesn't seem to care much as Lips press against the warmth of your neck, kissing, nipping any part of skin he can manage, purple marks left it the wake, tongue soothing the bruising skin, heart stammering against his chest at the thought of Luke seeing them. His voice is rough, calculating as the pads of his fingers lift your face from seeing what he's doing from you using the plam of his hand to angle it towards the headboard. "You want to see? I don't think you deserve it, haven't been a good girl. From what I remember you picked his side over mine."

"Did.." You try to speak but the thigh between your own stops you, heavy as it presses against your clit and makes you gasp. "...Not."

"Surely did but look at you now. I wonder what he would think if he saw how cock dumb you get." Din's’s hand falls between both of your legs to his hard member squeezing it through his pants, throbbing under his own palm.

He's teasing, testing the waters to see a reaction out of you, he's so so close but biting the inside of your cheek manage to stay quiet.

It has to be quick as hands press against the mattress under you, tightening your trunk to use the new found strength he didn't know about to flip yourself from under him. Din is quicker though, halfway through pulling you closer for it's impossible to escape his arms, pulling you to straddle him as his back lands on the bed with a huff.

You really do try to move but he's just too strong, hair filling the gaps between his fingers as he pulls your lips against his again, teeth clashing as a moan vibrates his chest. "You're not going anywhere cyar'ika."

Anchoring yourself against his lips, pushing down roughly on his hardness as you cry against his lips as a hand lands on your ass, skin taunt and red instantly at the roughness.

"You're upset." Words whispered against his chest, fingers running over the outline of the square jaw teasingly, tongue reaching out to lick it. He feels his own eyes roll into the back of his head with a whimper. "Let me make it up to you, I wanna taste you in my mouth again."

Muscles scream and ache, sore already from his brutal grip but it's the least of anyone's concern as you sink into knees between his large, muscular thighs squeezing them teasingly. Mouth pressing over the cloth covered skin of his inner thighs, mouthing him through the fabric as his face turns red. His fist roughly tightening in hair until it's so tight it hurts when he pulls your head back to pick your haze towards his face. "Don't tease me girl, you're not going to like what happens if you keep it up brat."

Your mouth waters watching his taunt muscles bunch the fabric of his shirt at the collar pull the beskar and shirt in one go careless of where it lands. He's bare now, muscularly lean as his hips press himself into your hand, a reminder of the task but you can't find yourself to look away from the tanned, creamy chest right above his heart, eyes reaching the black lines of words. "Another one?"

The one on his neck was large, a symbol of what he claimed was leadership but in plain English right above his heart made your heart beat faster. Shaky fingers trace the curves of letters on his pec, skin soft. Your name, it was healed and black already starting to fade, it's been there for some time now. Heart stammers against his chest as he hears the softness of your tone, "Why?"

"It belongs to you, I thought it was only right."

Despite the swelling of your heart finger’s play with the waist band of his pants before curling around them pulling them just enough that they're almost revealing his throbbing erection but his finger's cupping your jaw hault all actions forcing you to look at him through hooded eyelids. "I want to hear you want it."

“Please.” A shock of pleasure running straight through his body to his throbbing cock, “Can I touch you? I wanna suck you off, please, please let me.”

You must look pathetic on your knees, eyes welting with tears of the new found discovery on his chest, bottom lips slightly pouting that he stopped you in the first place. Big doe like eyes never leaving his, you sound so fucked. "Please..."

A small groan leaves the half naked man's throat pressing his thumb against your chin roughly, while his other fingers leaving a trail along their wake on their way to your breast cupping gently, teasing you just a little more.

The way he stares at you, as you wait for any gesture, any tilt of his head to say you can. He's testing you seeing if you're even capable of behaving but little does he realize when it came to him his girl would so anything he asks. It's intimating, feeling his eyes shift over you, tall even sitting down, towering actually.

“Fine, only because you asked like a good girl." Din's finger help you as he lifts his hips to move the pants and boxers up and over his ass and to the floor leaving him completely bare. After so many months it's a beautiful sight, hard, throbbing under your touch, an angry pink that just wants relief.

Tongue meets the delicate skin of his balls first, a soft huff of relief falling from his lips as you continue to lick a stride against them, taking one into your mouth almost as fast.

The Mandalorian actually chokes, the feeling of you after so long as him falling from his elbows to lay flat against the bed. Hands gathering your hair into a messy pony tail, not only for a better view but to taunt that he can take control anytime.

He's about to warn you about teasing him again when he feels a small kiss against his inner thigh but his tip pushing past your lips as him bitting down on his lip so hard he swears he tasting blood. "Sweet girl, so-- good."

The mixture of salty pre-cum and saliva makes it easy to move him past your lips until he reaches the deepest part of your throat, holding him there a few seconds to taste the saltiness of him until your nose feels the dark hairs of his abdomen Warm and tight around him, fingers gripping harder as his hips involuntarily buck into you deeper, choking you until eyes start to water.

After that you waste no time taking him inside your mouth to the point that your lips were completely around him as him he hits the back of your throat with every stroke. Adding his own hips to the mixture as the intense feeling of your gagging only vibrates against him, the sounds that fill the room are filthy, wet and slippery as spit begins to dribble down your chin.

"Maker --." He squeezes his eyes shut feeling the distant building of heat run down his legs, warm his belly. "Did you think about this? Think --." He can't even finish a sentence with how deep you take him, throat already staring to ache but every time his cock pierces the threshold of your throat soothing it instantly. "Think about sucking me off?"

Head nodding frantically as one of your hands slip just to relieve the pressure between your legs but his own around your wrist stops you. A soft whine makes around him makes it almost impossible to push away but with every ounce of self control he has he pulls his throbbing cock from your mouth, the thick line of spit that comes that connects you two makes him want to explode on your face right there.

Din pulls you up by your arm onto his lap once again as fingers waste no time to reach between your legs, thee slick of your wetness coating the tips of his fingers as he pulls the pants from your hips. “You're so wet honey, is this all for me?"

He doesn't even give you the chance to reply as fingers dip down to your wet slit, sticking a finger in your gaping hole a quarter of the way with one goal in mine to coat them in some wetness before slipping it past his lips, wanting a taste. "Just as sweet as I remember, want you to taste."

With his face only inches from your own, it's so filthy. The way he pulls his fingers from between lips, his own string of spit as the appendages slip past your own lipsb rolling against your tongue before closing your lips around them. “Such a dirty girl aren’t you?” 

The heat of Din's chest flushing your breast is enough to have you dizzy with bliss. He's so sexy like this, confident, radiates with new found power that turns you to putty in his hands.

You can't help as you lean forward to capture his lips again tongue eagerly meeting his. Din kisses back instantly, the taste of you being exchanged passionately through the heated kiss as hands falling to the back of your hair, tugging it gently as hips buck as you lower yourself against his cock. At this point Din feels his heart pounding against his chest, doesnt believe the way you dry hump, he wouldn't even call it that: the wetness that soaks his thighs is anything but dry.

It almost physically hurts not being inside of you, hot a ready against you, gentle fingers hook at your hips effortlessly flipping your whole body weight until your hands and head push against the softness of the mattress using fingers to bring your ass towards him until it's presses against his own bare hips. “Ass up baby.”

Din couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, naked, pussy in the air for him, ready to be used in any way he sees fit. A rough hand kneading the flesh of your ass cheek, other one coming up to spank you so hard you gasp as it sends tingles of pain down sore legs. His lips coming down to the point of attack pressing a small kiss against it, then using his hand to run over the bubbling spot, welt red with pulsing pain. “You looked so pretty with your lips around me around my cock but seeing red with my marks makes me want to destroy you."

"Please, please.." At this point you don't know what you're begging for but Din's not ready to give up that easy, he's not done reminding you that you are without a doubt his.

A large hand guides down your back feeling the grooves of your spine against his own fingertips until hand reached the back of your neck with one hard grab but then down back down until he reaches your ass kneading both cheeks so close to your throbbing heat. A lingering blaze of heat where his fingers were as he pushes your head deeper into the matress. "Beg me to touch you needy girl. I don't think I'm convinced you want me anymore."

"I do." The clock of his tongue tells you he's disappointed, panic tearing through your throat as his finger moved further from where you need him most, tears of frustration prickling eyes as his hand pushes your head deeper into the mattress. “No! No -- please touch me. I want it, need you so bad, lay here every night thinking of it." With one last crack of your voice words spewing at any effort of some type of relief. "Do whatever you want to me, fill me up bear, I wanna be yours.."

It's only for a second, the way he tenses and throbs between your ass cheeks, chest doesn't dare move, not believing the words that came from your mouth. Soft kisses against the back of your thighs, lip meeting with your clit that sends a shock up your spine, goosebumps breaking out at the euphoric feeling. Din didn’t waste any time as he puckers his lips and sucks on your heat, tongue trusting inside of your tight hole enjoying the sounds coming from you as he mumbles against you, "Want me to fill you up sweet girl? Want my seed deep in you?"

Wet, sloppy noises falling from where his lips connect to you the sounds he was making with his lips and tongue are almost sinful as a rush of heat runs through your body hand coming down on your ass, a little awkward at this position but it's more to show how serious he is. "Answer me."

"Yes! Oh, yes! I want you to feel you all night."

The tip of Din’s tongue flickers the soft bundle of nerves making you mewl, his finger filling you snuggly and to the brink without warning, not wasting any time they leave only to come back and reach that spot in that makes your eyes roll back into your head. The sounds falling from between your legs were heavenly, wetness dripping from your thighs to the bed but he could care less about right now.

“I’m gonna cum.” The devilish smirk was not visible to your own eyes as pulls his finger from the wetness, eyes running over your swollen pussy puffy with pleasure. 

"Wha?” The orgasm haze was starting to take over leaving you slightly drowsy as tears sting with frustration groaning into the pillow trying to lift your head but Din's hand in your hair prevents that pressing you back against the soft material. 

“Good girl take what they're given." He growls harshly but the gentle kisses against your neck say otherwise; soft and wet soothing the spot where he grabbed earlier. Words dangerous as lips chaste over your ear, "You can remember that the next time you stick up for him."

Din is kneeling between your thighs, leg against your inner knee spreading your legs just enough for he can fit. Arching your back against him, silently begging to end your misery already.

The sounds of his hand using your wetness to jerk himself off behind you otherresting against your ass and squeezing the softness. He doesn't give any warning, the sudden feeling of a burning but pleasurable stretching causing a small gasp to fall from lips swollen from all the biting from the previous finger fucking.

Din’s finger come behind you to tease the bundle of nerves, making your whine as he sinks every inch of his cock until he's nestled so deep it's hard to breath. It's a delicious burn, one that makes you so light headed it's hard to even form words. "Maker, Din."

Din's hands rest against the swells of your ass, eyes tilting towards the filthy sight of him snuggly pressing into you, testing the waters with one deep, slow thrust. The sound you make is straight up sinful, makes him groan on his own accord as you clench around him.

Hips snap faster watching his cock disappear and reappear into your silky opening over and over again a wave of pleasure tingling his spine every time he hits the spot that makes you dumb. He wants to comment on it but can't form words at the sight of his cock covered in your arousal, it has his thighs shaking with heat, stomach stirring with the familar feeling of relief, his whole body on fire. With every push of hips, strokes steady, long and rough hitting to fill you every single time.

The sounds falling from you mixed with pleasure and pain but it felt so good having him in you again. Din loves it, hips rolling into you, pussy dripping between the two of you, smearing his thighs, leaking down yours. Eyes trained your bouncing ass as he listens to the squeals of his name.

Back arching pushing him deeper inside of you to hit that spot that makes you cry as a hand rest against the small of back giving him a better angle to fuck you senselessly. “Din, oh maker, so fucking good."

"Yeah sweetheart? Missed me huh?"

Nails digging into the flesh of your hip as sweat begins to bead on his forehead and chest, heat washing over his whole body as he feels himself grow closer and closer to giving you want you want most. “i’m so close bear, please let me..” you manage to mumble as the pleasure pinches your voice hoping he doesn't steal this one from you as well.

"Want me to fill you up sweet girl? Tell me you want it.

"I want it so bad, want to feel you for weeks." There is no doubt in any of your minds you will.

"Come for me, give it to me." Your orgasm hits you instantly clenching around him so hard he chokes. Din on the other hand continues to drive his cock deep inside of you a small whine falling from his lips. 

With the last of his trust he explodes, cum lining you, filling you to the brink. Maker, there's so much as it drips between you and onto the bed, he doesn't dare move trying to keep whatever he can manage in. Taking a second to recover with heavy pants against your back before fingers hook around you turning you to face him as you both breath with heavy breaths.

Sagging into the matress completely spent, chest rising and falling to match the pattern of your thumping heart. Eyes blurring in a haze even though it's only temporary your limbs feel heavy as a gentle hand cups your cheek tilting your head in which you can only guess his direction. Din doesn't move, keeps himself burried deep inside of you, not daring to break the warmth he's missed.

"Are you with me Cyar'ika?" The post sex haze wearing away but he's till blurry, you're too tired as eyes slowly begin to shut.

"I want to go with you. I want to go home."

There was no home, Din knew exactly what the words meant, a metaphor for himself, he would forever be your home. It was sweet, made him warm and blush but lazy lips trail from your shoulder pressing his face into your neck with a sigh, words whispered breathlessly. "You belong here, I will come back when you are ready."

"I don't want you to leave." The words are hard to process as hot tears slip past your eyes flushing the cold skin of his cheek.

The way the words sound so broken, gasped out with emotion is soul crushing. Din presses his face deeper, cheek against cheek as the tears burn. "I'll try and visit more.. it won't be another seven months. Luke will have a way to communicate with me for emergencies." He pauses, hands rubbing over your hair to comfort in any way that would help, lifting his face until your nose bumps his own. "I wouldnt able to live with myself letting you leave here yet... You have come so far, you have so much more to accomplish my sweet girl."

"Stay an extra day." Tomorrow morning was coming too fast, it breaks your heart knowing it would be months before laying eyes on your Mandalorian again. Din turns his head not being able to look you in the eyes that he can't, he promised Bo-Katan that he needed one day then he would be back to the war, it was bad timing as it is. The sniffles against his neck, the whine as he shifted inside her once again made him crack. "Anything for you baby, I love you so much. I'm sorry for before, did I hurt you? I -."

"It's okay, It's been a long time Din, I understand. It was perfect." It's doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand, the uncertainty of seven months and you couldn't find yourself to blame him.

**

It's funny how missing someone works, it's been weeks since he's left but in the morning you find yourself not being able to move from the bed, the sheets still smell like him. Remember all the soft spoken words, the promises that he'll be back to you home, to him where you belonged.

Luke sits in front of you, Grogu on his lap as you try and concentrate but the small hands against your stomach make you frown, head tilting down at the green fingers that coo softly. He's been doing that very often lately. What a weird little creature.. cute but weird.

The soft huff that falls from Luke makes you pause, now question his eyes with your own. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, accomplishing what you failed to do. The force is strong with him, murmuring things of the past and impending future.

Now his hand covers the child's who lays his forehead against it. "He senses life. I feel it."

The words stun you, momentarily pausing as your mouth falls open. "I saw the future, I saw your baby due in months time. Another generation of Jedi."

And the heir to the Mandalorian throne.

[simluvbot]

Enhypen as dates they would take you on <3

tags: gn!reader, established relationship au, fluff, bf! enha

members: all members !!

wc: 400-800ish for each member ?? this is very long uh I’m sorry I got carried away

a/n: hi, welcome to my first piece of writing on this blog 😁😁 I tried to write so that these matched the members and their personalities the most! Also as this is my first post any interaction is so cherished 🥺 but anyways,, I hope you enjoy :D

open to read

Heeseung

he would take you to so many fun places!!

Your dates would consist of going bowling together, theme parks, a walk in the park — you can count on having a fun time with heeseung!

He would just want to impress you );

He’s be always so attentive to you and remember even the littlest of details about you

You’d be in a shop together looking around and he’ll tap your shoulder, showing you a lace shirt that you instantly fall in love with

It’s just your style!

You’d ask him how he knew you would like it, to which he would simply mumble  with, “you told me a few months ago that you like shirts like this.”

You’d just stand in shock like :ooo

Not even you remember telling him that ):

Please he loves you so much, if it’s something that you tell him you like or don’t like, he’ll immediately store it in his memory! He wants to know so much more about you 🥺

Your dates are definitely what you look forward to whenever you see him!!

As much as you love fun day outs with him, you also love your chiller night dates at him <3

Meeting each other late at night after practice? A must!! No way can you let your hee go home alone when he’s the last leaving the practice room after a long day ):<

You would often surprise him by showing up at belift at ungodly hours, and as much as he would scold you with a light frown for coming to see him when it’s already half past midnight,,

You still always catch that small little smile he has whenever you do surprise him hehe

to be aware of just the fact that youre there? is enough for him. you ground him and its especially those spontaneous dates youll throw upon him and inevitably show him without the words uttered that you care for him and you love him? 

those are secretley his fave (: but he doesnt have to tell you that - youve already guessed :D

But at the same time on those late night after-practice dates he just wants to make sure that you’re not staying up too late all the time just to make sure he’s doing okay after practice, his y/nnie needs their sleep too ):

And what you’ll do together? Eat ramen of course!!

Although these little late night dates with him usually dont last no longer than an hour, he still treasures them so dearly in his heart ):

Hee sometimes needs a lot of love and assurance, even if he doesn’t mention it

And you’re the best at making him feel better instantly 🥺

but we seriously cant forget about your daytime dates too! each date of yours is always filled with so so many jokes and giggles that your hearts burn with longing for the other whenever you part ways ):

i can see that he’ll even store the memory of your dates even weeks after they’ve happened - he’ll store those memories of you; all in his heart (and the polaroid he took of you in the back of his phonecase 😳) and tucked close.

Jake

as for dates, to me he seems the type to be into really spontaneous and random things!! He’d love going somewhere fun or just simply randomly travelling with you without a destination!

He especially loves to sneak out of the dorm late at night and meet you at you and his favourite park.

It’s located at the top of a really tall hill, and you’ll both spend hours sitting on the swings, chatting away with little care for the rest of the world or the time as you both simply giggle at each other’s jokes and contentedly talk about anything and everything; watching the city lights glow from hundreds of metres below you

He’d offer you his jacket when the temperature drops by a few degrees suddenly

You’d be like no!! It’s okay you should also stay warm, I’m okay 🥺

But then because he is such a sweetheart he’d huff and sit next to you on the swing, making the single-seater far too cramped as he tries to supply you with his body heat if that’s the only way that you’ll accept not freezing to death 😠

But then you’ll both slip due to there not being enough space for both of you on the wing, and your both fall flat down on your butts lmao

You’d both freeze, staring at each other blankly on the floor

but then you’d both crack up and laugh for the longest time — hushing each other in-between giggles from the fear of maybe you were being a bit too loud and could wake some people up?

But then you’d both fall into giggling messes once again as you blame each other for causing the other to fall down ):

You’d eventually sit together huddled on a bench, sitting in silence and simply staring out at seoul’s twinkling night lights as you share his leather jacket: heavy and warm as it drapes across you and his’ shoulders

But eventually you’d both finally head home! — your eyelids soon growing too heavy and both of you afraid of accidentally falling asleep at a park at 1am lmfao

idk why but i can just see a lot of late-night dates with jake,, such as

baking cookies together at 1am???? probably has happened twice already in your relationship aha 😁

honestly you both spend so much time together casually that you end up arguing on whether that time where he randomly showed up at your house wanting to make relationship bracelets together was really a date or not lmao

he is also so <3 so incredibly sweet too though uGH. he is a sweetheart and like heeseung he will remember every little detail of you which will be useful for when he comes up with more date ideas in the future (

on dates such as eating at a restaurant together he will always bring you flowers like the gentleman he is.

it’s kinda funny because when youre both on a date together alone with no other people around you both become complete crackheads

but when meeting in front of others he acts so mature and serious suddenly lmao ?? 

but honestly he just trusts and loves you so so much that he doesnt even feel like he needs to act a certain way or try to become someone complteley different on a date just to impress you

but its okay because you love the duality of jake sim <3

someone get me him pls. i want one </3

Jay

With jay, shopping dates ??? yes of course (;

he’d simply love taking you out either down a road with many well-known clothing brands or maybe even the mall, entering several clothing stores with you

he never mentions it, but its obvious how much he simply adores seeing you wear the clothes he picks out for you :D

oh and matching couple outfits are obviously always chosen whenever you go out on these fashion dates!!

he will pick out a selection of items he thinks will look good on you, and - to admit it to himself: he does a pretty good damn job

tell me why this boy will get so flustered whenever he sees you walk out of the changing room,, looking so pretty in what he chose for you ??

he’d also one day surprise you on a date with matching couple bracelets :D

you’ll get so excited and he’ll get so shy and try to hide his smile as you compliment how good his sense of style is !! and as much as he denies the fact that he’s blushing you luckily do manage to snap some pics as evidence of the rosy colour in his cheeks hehe

and especially earlier on in the relationship, he’ll always try his best and prepare cute little dates for you both )): and the members would tease him to DEATH for how unbelievably soft and considerate he is when doing things for you when he is so cranky towards them lmfao

chill dates (:

walking in the park together, getting ice cream, going for late night drives and listening to music together </3 with jay it never has to be complicated

Just as long as he gets to be with you, talk with you and touch you then that’s more than enough for him (: he just likes to be in your company

and Idk why I can just see this but he wILL have playground dates with you. dont question it

Because like ?? hanging out on the swings or climbing frame of a kids park at 11PM when there’s no one else there but you both?? Talking and swinging quietly next to each other? very romantic to me hmm

Yes <3 

he will stare at you as he silently swings a back and forth a little; brushing the hair out of your face and looking at you with so so much love in his eyes it’s unbelievable

he especially loves just relaxing with you. watching a show on the tv together while cuddling and staying close to each other is something he loves

hearing your giggles and listening to you talk while engaging in teasing banter where he’ll pretend to think the things you say are stupid by scoffing and rolling his eyes when in reality his heart is swelling and he’s trying so hard not to laugh at how cute you are? 

shut UP

those are definitely one of his favourite types of dates with you

he’ll constantly try to impress you and will be willing to try so many different things with you

i can see him as either being openly interested about going on typical couple dates together such as painting or eating at romantic restaurants,, or every time you mention something of the sort he’ll be groaning at yet another mention of the ‘couple bucket list’ you had created lol

but actually he’s secretly really excited for that couple mug-painting session you booked for you both. but he will never tell you that 😳

in conclusion, with jay it really never has to be something complex for you both to enjoy your dates <3 he just loves being in your company, even if its one of those nights where you both share no words between the cuddling and content sighs and various little soft kisses he presses to your forehead.

sunghoon

with sunghoon gOSH

whatever you two get up to, it’d be so so soft and gentle and perfect and just ):

he would always ask the members what to take you out on as a date and you bet his naver search history would consist of questions like ‘what does my s/o like’ and ‘where should i take out my partner on a date’ lmao

he just wants to make you happy and comfy ):

dates with him are usually really cute!! Like going to cafes, going ice skating etc!

But you’d also love those dates at home with him, giggling shyly as you both sit together and watch a film 🥺

he LOVES those dates! he always gets so shy whenever he comes over and it takes him a little while to get comfortable enough with you to even hold your hand pls

So when he one day pulls you in closer from where you’re sitting side by side on the couch,, bringing you closer and tucking you under his arm ??

You’re so so surprised, and you feel your heart clench a little at how gentle he is with you and how he’s finally opening up ):

And from then on,, he only will become more and more comfortable with you!!! To the point where he’ll start pouting a lil when you don’t snuggle up next to him on the sofa like you usually do );

So cuddle dates with hoon? Yes you bet they’re his fave!!

and then when its quickly approaching your 100 days anniversary, he’ll be wracking his brains for so long trying to decide what to do for you

but then it will hit him like a light bulb switching on!

he’ll suddenly remember you mentioning this specific thing that you really liked and would want to do one day, and guess what he would plan for u both!!

he’d prepare 💔💔 a picnic 💔💔 for you 💔💔

ugh youre so lucky

he’d text you the day before your anniversary telling you to expect to go on a date with him the day after and to dress up prettily :D

he’d wake up super early on the day of the date, preparing all of your favourite foods and meals into a cute lil basket ):

and when you finally both meet at a really rEALLY pretty secluded area that you somehow had no idea existed despite you living in the area for so long - you’d maybe start tearing up?? 

because your boyfriend is so so sweet and you never saw this coming from him at all ): 

and he’d just stand there shyly in front of the picnic he set up, hand at the back of his head and looking down; cute lil blush tainting his cheeks from how nervous he is!

but then you’d run over and give him a big, big hug, exxclaiming how much you appreciate what he did for you and how youre so so incredibly sorry for not bringing him something as well to celebrate your anniversary (you were dying inside fo guilt please!! how could u forget to get him something when he went out of his way like this for you )):  )

but he’d simply shake his head, smiling and not minding at all

because if he gets to see you happy, gets to see those twinkling eyes of yours that just stare up at him with so so much love before bringing him in for a sweet kiss - then he simply doesnt mind at all.

r u crying at this like i am lol

sunoo

sunoo absoloutely adores you.

and he cant stay away from you !! lmao

you’ll leave after a date and ten minutes after youve arrived you’ll get a text from him saying how much he already misses you and wants to see his bun again ):

but its okay!! because y’all would meet up again really soon again :D

sunoo really doesnt mind what you both do together, he just loves being in your company !! if he’s doing something with you, its certain that he will have so much fun and be so so comfy!

you often like to go to cinemas together, watching a film

film/drama marathons are also something that you both do very very often as a date! he loves it when you hug him tight and throw a leg over his as you both lie down in his dorm bed/your bed, watching something on your laptop

he is very very cuddly and whenever you both do have cuddle dates/sessions (which is all the time btw) he’ll like it when you absentmindedly play with his fingers or stroke your hands through his hair soothingly

and then he’ll complain and whine when you stop lmao

seriously though, without a question if either of you meet at either his dorm or your house - its always:  ‘so what are we gonna watch?’

he also likes doing very very cute couple-y activities with you! of course he does,, youre his baby ): 

(he’s more YOUR baby actually - but he doesnt need to know about that shh hehe)

funfair dates where you will go on a ferris wheels and eat cotton candy together? sharing a kiss when you reach the top? yes! and so is going to those sets designed for couples to take cute photos together as a lil photoshoot!

he is so so sweet with you ): 

and has it been mentioned yet that you’ll go on food dates? this is a very obvious date you both do very often !! 

going to food markets and trying out different street foods from different vendors? yes.

having mini dates at the korean convinience store late at night where you’ll both sit by the window and eat tteokbokki & ramen together? yes.

its all honestly really really chill, but he also knows when to be serious when he needs to (:

he’ll take you out to the your favourite restaurants often!

and whenever youre celebrating something he’ll take you to a really good and famous restaurant with mouth-watering food, and you’ll be left wondering for the longest time how on earth he managed to get a seat in since its always so booked

or ordering take-out is good too :D

in conclusion (because i just realised how long this is help 😭): dates with sunoo are always a variety of fun activities which always leave you feeling tired yet so, so happy and content at the end of the day !!

he loves you so much <3

Jungwon

Since you both go to the same school, a lot of your little dates are actually spent there

He’s pretty shy with you at times,, but when you’re both alone it’s then that dates with him are usually so so goofy and silly; days filled with his teasing and your eye rolls and giggles.

Meeting at the rooftop before school to simply talk and giggle and drink chocolate milk? Yes.

Staying after school for small study sessions in the library? Yes.

With jungwon, you’re not able to see him as much between school and him being an idol, so every little moment together means so much to both of you ):

To me jungwon also seems like a cuddler!!! cause like?? Have you seen him ?? Tell me he doesn’t look so soft 

So, dates at home when he’s free where you can both cuddle together in your bed while eating and doing homework? They’re so so cosy,, and definitely your favourite kinda dates!! not to mention that your parents absolutely adore him too

With jungwon, lots of lil spontaneous dates are definitely his and yours trademark (‘:

He’ll turn up at your house randomly with a grin and dimple poking at his cheek, holding a bag of convenience store food and asking you if you want to go on a date with him even if it’s 10pm and dark outside lmfao

And then he’ll take you to an arcade!

You’ll be the only ones there and he’s keep flexing about how he’s going to win you this cat plush from the claw machine because he says it looks like him

He’d try several times and end up spending almost 8,000 won on the machine trying to win you this plush and at this point he’s already making up several excuses about how oh, ‘it’s rigged’ or ‘give me one more chance I will get it this time!!’

You’d giggle at how he grows flustered, gently asking him if you could have a go for fun, sighing and with him and agreeing on the fact that the claw machine is definitely rigged

You’d complain together; scolding the machine and asking it to please be nice and stop ruining your date when it’s then that the claw actually picks up a plush and you’re both like ;oo

You’d both stay stood in shock as the cat plush is dropped into the receiving box, before laughing loudly

He’d stand there flustered, blush tainting his cheek before he just walks away 🚶🏻‍♂️

You’d quickly pick up the cat plush and chase after him, giggles tumbling out your lips

and uhm after that you beTTER go check up on your boy and see if his ego wasnt too damaged by that 😤

so of course you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, tucking your face into the back of his neck ): and pressing gentle kisses where you know he’s ticklish until he finally relents, a small grin and dimple lighting up his face

and phEW because you thought he was upset ): but he laughs and says youre better at the claw machine than he is so,, all good dont worry !! 🥺

It’d end up being him taking the cat plush home, which you both name ‘jungwon-two’ because of how much it actually looks like him 😭

Expect many references and inside jokes to that date and jungwon-two in the future

and tbh you love dates with won so so much. theyre so fun plus they’re always secret.

and whenever you’re out doing whatever the hell you both get up to,

It’s like there is no one else in the world. It’s just you, and him, and the blooming you both feel in your chests.

Niki

I don’t know but I can just see niki as being so romantic

You’re both young, and although niki is the biggest dork and always likes to play around and make jokes 24/7 - he’s also so mature compared to the other boys your age

So would he take you out to a date where he’d set up classically romantic candles and rose petals for you both to eat at for your 1 month anniversary? Yes ):

And you’d be so speechless and shocked as you blush quietly and thank him before he‘s accidentally knocking over his glass of water all over the table cloth and you’re laughing out loud

But expect every other date with him to be filled with so so much food and comfort!

He’d feel so comfy around you, and really the only word he thinks is perfectly able to describe you is home. He thinks you feel like home to him.

So he’d show you all of this favourite things, the things closest to his heart and you can’t help but feel your own heart clench at how much you adore this boy

He’d take you out to traditional Japanese restaurants and show you his favourite foods from back home and teach you the customs of how to eat sushi

You’d 100% be so so interested and excited whenever he reveals to you a vulnerable part of him, and he’d stare at you so lovingly as he kisses your cheek, blushing and smiling like the 15 year old he is

Ugh ): niki ):

Dance dates!!

You claim you can’t dance to save your life LMFAO (or maybe you can 😳?) but he only grins shyly instead as he takes you to a small dance studio he rented (he didn’t want to take you the belift building where there would be other people - he’d want you to feel completely comfortable).

You’d simply stand there with your mouth dropped open as you watch him freestyle to a random song he put on like it’s nothing

You’d spend the day getting taught some moves by him and although you’re sure you look like a cat getting electrocuted, he still smiles and  nods and even claps, giving you compliments and teasing remarks

Overall, dates with niki are so so fun and goofy and perfect. You feel your heart swell every time he takes you out on another little adventure, feeling so complete and carefree between his warm hugs, jokes and words that he has to say to you

(’:

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 8

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1   Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

“From today, you shall have your own rooms.”

“But why?” Remus wails “it’s not fair!” Remus looks up at him, his small faced scrunched and red, tears threatening to fall, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I-“ Roman frowns. He feels too big. Shouldn’t he be the same size as Remus?

“You’re the future king, Remus” their father rumbles, “Your training needs to begin - without distractions.”

“Don’t cry.” Their mother tells him as Remus’ tantrum echoes through the room. She runs a cool hand over Roman’s forehead soothingly.

“I wasn’t.” Roman murmurs.

His mother’s hand turns cruel, pushing his head back, another hand gripping his chin.

“You need to drink, c’mon Roman drink this down for me, please?”

Roman chokes, twisting away. Hot liquid scalds his throat and drips down his chin. There’s a hand in his hair again, stroking gently until it grips tight, forcing his head back “He doesn’t look much like the Prince.” Marcus grunts.

“The mad Prince – Remus of Notaleveale!”

“But.” Roman whimpers, “that’s not-“

“Is he awake?”

“Your father is sick.” Julius tells him. The practice room is high in the north tower, always just too cool to be comfortable, but Roman feels hot. For some reason, water is rushing down the walls. Droplets splash onto his skin and sizzle where they land.

“We’re going to find a way to fix this my Prince, I promise.” Julius smiles at him, his eyes kind and unlined by age.

“What if you can’t.” Romulus whispers, voice breaking. He is the right size now he thinks. He had to tilt his head to look up at Julius who hesitantly pulls him close, letting the boy muffle his dry sobs on his shoulder.

“Then…we will find a way to help you live with it – and I’ll always be here to help you.”

He pulls back to smile at him again, but it’s not kind anymore. The skin flaking away reveals the rictus grin of the skull beneath, and Roman howls, trying to twist away whilst large hands hold him down -

“It’s okay! Roman, it’s okay!”

- he feels something cool on his eyelids, a strong scent of mint mingling with the rot of Julius body-

“Sleep.” a voice murmurs.

When Roman wakes, it’s somewhere he doesn’t recognise. Scratchy sheets pin him down to a bed as effectively as chains. A pale man with violet eyes is pulling at his arm, his arm which hurts. Roman whines, trying to tug the limb out of the pale man’s grip, but his body feels too heavy to obey.

The pale man is trying to talk to him but nothing he says makes sense to Romulus, it’s like listening to a foreign language.

“<My dad’s dead.>” he tells the pale man, because that seems important.

“Roman? Are you awake?”

There’s a hand on his forehead, the voice is saying something about water but Roman ignores it, trying to chase the thought.

If their father was dead, then why was he still Prince Remus?

The next time Roman woke up it was dark. The pale man had disappeared, but there was another figure lying in the bed next to him. The man’s bulk caused the mattress to dip towards him and his snores were so loud they made the whole bedframe vibrate with each exhale.

Turning his head carefully, Roman found himself looking at a face full of scars and freckles. A pale shaft of moonlight from the open window illuminated the man’s ripped ear and a nose that had obviously been broken at some point in the past. Even in sleep, he looked fearsome.

‘Patton’ Roman’s tired mind supplied, and he felt a relieved smile twitch over his face. It pulled at the cut Niki left him, making him bite back a whimper of pain.

He let his head fall back against the pillow. Everything felt heavy, even the air. The room seemed to melt at the edges. But if Patton was sleeping then they must be somewhere safe.

He dozed for a time, listening to the comforting rumble of Patton’s snores, until a withered pair of hands reached for him. The lady of the house began to gently wipe the sweat from his face with a cool cloth.

“<Am I dying>?” he asked her in their own language.

“<You can try.>” She told him dryly, “<Those three will probably end up chasing you down to the underworld too.>”

The lady brought some extra cushions and stacked them behind him, helping him to sit up. From his new vantage point he could see Logan on the floor, one giant book open on his lap and three more stacked beside him. He looked like he had fallen asleep mid study session, his head tilted back against the wall with a thin string of drool hanging from his open mouth.

Roman thought of the last time he had seen him, pinned to Lucius' chest, his eyes wide and frightened behind his glasses, and had to close his eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose until his panic subsided and glanced at Logan again.

He was so relieved to see him whole that might even forgo teasing him about the drool.

The lady brought him a pewter mug filled with something warm that smelt pleasantly of honey and helped him to lift it to his lips when his hands began to shake.

“<When I invited you for tea, this isn’t what I pictured.>” she teased him with a smile.

Roman didn’t smile back, eyes still roaming the room.

“<Where->“

“<Your elf is fine>” she told him, sounding amused “<I sent him on an errand. He would have worn a hole in my best rug if he stood here pacing much longer.>”

Roman did smile then, grip loosening on the mug which she deftly caught before it hit the blankets.

“<I lost my brother.>” he told her, eyes growing heavy again.

“<That was careless of you.>” she said, “<What are you going to do about it?>”

Roman didn’t answer, falling back asleep with the honey still coating his tongue.

The next time Roman woke up, daylight was streaming trough the open window and the last tendrils of fever seemed to have left him. Whilst he still felt tired, the unnatural heaviness was less and his mind was clear.

Unfortunately, his clear mind immediately occupied itself by cataloguing every single way his body was in pain.

His cheek throbbed, the small cut from Niki having been split wider by the force of the hit from Julius’s walking stick. His back and shoulders we’re equally bruised, and protested every tiny movement he made as he tried to resettle himself against the pillows. By far the worst was his hand, which felt like it was still burning.

Choking down any whimpers of pain he focused instead on the strange pressure on his chest.

Opening his eyes revealed the culprit. A grey cat with snow white paws was sitting primly on his sternum. Mittens looked deeply put out by Roman’s attempt to get comfortable and gave him an unsatisfied meow of protest when he continued to move.

“Good morning” Roman whispered, giving him a conciliatory head rub with his good hand, “Did you happen to count how many horses ran me over?”

“Roman!” The bard looked beyond Mittens to see Patton perched on the end of the bed, beaming so wide it almost distracted from the redness of his nose.

“You’re -ah-achoo – you’re awake!”

“Yeah.” He smiled, attempting to rearrange the pillows one handed. “Hey Pat’.”

“Guys!” Patton called, “Ro – achoo – Ro -acHOO – he’s awake!”

There was a thundering of footsteps on stairs and then Virgil all but exploded into the room, eyes wide “How awake is he? – does he recognise you? Patton I told you to put the damm cat outside!”

“Aww but it’s his hou -ah -ah -house,” Patton pouted.

“He recognises you.” Roman added, giving Virgil a half-hearted wave “Also his voice works.”

“Shame.” Virgil snarked but the grin on his face was too wide to hide his relief.

“You. Go bother the pigeons’” he shooed the cat as he came to sit on the edge of Romans bed. Mittens gave him a pointed meow before slinking out of the room, pausing only to rub against Logan’s ankles as it passed him in the doorway.

“How’s your head?” Virgil asked - he reached over to a small beside table and picked up a glass of water, holding it up for Roman to sip.

“Fine.” Roman whispered hoarsely, taking the water from him and drinking greedily.

“What about your hand?” Patton asked, kneeling on his other side, “I’ll ask Mama Tay to brew you some more willow tea, for the pain.”

“Great.”- Roman handed the glass back to Virgil shrank against the pillows as they both peered at him – “but I’m fine, honestly don’t worry yourselves-“

“Fine?” Virgil rolled his eyes, “You look like you went three rounds with a centaur and lost. Badly.”

“Okay, well, that’s rude.” Roman rolled his eyes right back, lifting one arm to try and bat Virgil’s hands away as they reached for him “Get off, Virge I’m fi-“

“Roman.” Logan was the only one who hadn’t come forward to paw at him. He stood in the doorway, most of his face obscured by the shadow. “Let Virgil check your injuries.”

Roman sighed, the fight going out of him. Obediently, he dropped his arms and tilted his head towards the half-elf.

“Oh sure,” Virgil murmured, running skilful fingers over the cut on Romans cheek and the surrounding swelling “you’ll listen when Logan tells you.”

“It’s the glasses,” Roman joked, his voice tired, “gives him authority.”

Once Virgil had finished his inspection of Roman’s face, he insisted at poking and prodding at every inch of him see how his other injuries were healing. Roman sighed but put up with his fussing with as much grace as he could. Virgil removed the bandages on his hand, packing fresh herbs next to the skin and rewrapping it gently with new cloth. The bruises and welts on his back and shoulders had begun to heal, turning from purple and blue to a sickly looking yellow. Virgil smeared something that smelt horrendous on the few welts that hadn’t scabbed over before stepping back, declaring the injuries extensive but, for the most part, superficial.

“Like your lyrics.” he added slyly, which got a squawk of protest from Roman and a giggle from Patton.

His hand was the most concerning. Virgil had him gently flex his fingers -causing Roman to hiss with pain despite his best efforts – before helping him into a sling and giving him strict instructions to hold it still until the herbs had done their work.

As Virgil worked, Patton kept up a running dialogue; happily filling Roman in on the day to day running’s of Mama Tay’s house. How she’d let him use her kitchen to cook for all of them and let Logan take over her small library (although the scholar was still only permitted to call her Mother Octavia). He giggled his way through a story about Mittens’ on going attempt to court the tabby cat who lived across the street – apparently he had attempted to show off by taking on street rat twice his size and spent the rest of the day sulking in the pantry after being summarily chased off.

Between Virgil’s gentle ministrations and the soothing sound of Patton’s voice, Roman found himself slowly relaxing.

Remus wasn’t in the city. His friends had come for him. They’d beaten the bad guy and got away.

He knew he couldn’t just ignore everything that had happened. His friends were eventually going to want some sort of explanation. The thing that had worn Julius face had been able to find him once – he didn’t know how, or how to stop I happening again.

Most importantly, he was no longer sure that Remus was safe.

But for a little while at least, he was with his family. He was safe. Things could start to go back to normal.

“Roman.” Logan said. He was leaning back against the closed door, a look on his face Roman couldn’t quite decipher. “Stand up.”

“Slowly,” Virgil added as Roman rose to his feet. The healer cast a glance back at Logan, confused, “what’re you-“

“Roman.” Logan cut him off. “Stand on one foot.”

Romans whole world seemed to narrow down to the glint of light reflecting off Logan’s glasses.

The rush of blood in his ears sounded very much like the rush of water in the pipe room.

Julius looked at him coldly, ready to categorise each whimper of pain as his leg began to shake, muscles cramping -

Patton’s hand suddenly griped his elbow as he wobbled, breaking the illusion.

Mama Tay’s bedroom was far more cluttered with blankets and knickknacks than Julius practice room. Logan was the one in front of him – face full of gleeful satisfaction as his theory was confirmed.

“I’m right aren’t I.” he breathed, looking dazed – “You can’t diso-“

Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about your curse. Put as much distance between you as you can.

Roman attempted to fling himself towards the door- immediately realised that this was a bad decision as he still only had one foot on the ground – and pitched forward towards the floor, free arm pinwheeling crazily.

Patton dived to catch him, one big hand grabbing his injured shoulder casing Roman to yell out in pain, which in turn caused Patton to instinctively release him. He found himself falling again, this time crashing into Virgil, who had come running to help. His injured arm exploded in pain as he fell against the other man’s chest.

“Roman! What the hell- Logan?”

“I’m sorry!” Logan’s delight at being proved right had quickly turned into alarm “Stand properly – I mean, stand however you think you should. Um-“

“Roman are you okay?” That was Patton, gently easing him off Virgil “Oh gosh I think you’ve opened your stitches again!”

Roman groaned.

A few moments later Roman was, once again, propped up on the bed. Patton sat next to him, holding his good hand loosely whilst Virgil smeared more of the horrifying smelling salve over the reopened cut on his cheek.

Logan, hands firmly clasped in front of him like a guilty school boy, was filling them in on what he thought he knew.

“Roman cannot disobey a direct order – when Lucius Amata met us on the stairs he was able to compel him not to move.”

“Who?”

“The Marquis of Orenlla!” Logan huffed, exasperated – “The kidnapper!”

“De.” Roman muttered.

“What?”

“Marquis de Orenlla.”

“Hmm,” rather than start an argument of etymology, Logan simply pulled a square slip of card from his waistcoat pocket and started crossing something out with his quill.

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, exasperated “Flashcards?” He twisted the lid back onto the salve pot with rather more force than was necessary “Logan, you didn’t even believe in magic until yesterday and now you’re saying �� what exactly are you saying?”

He glanced at Roman, almost fearfully ‘That he’s -that he’s under a spell or cursed or- what?”

“Roman,” Patton’s voice was gentle. “Is that true?”

Roman met his eyes. Patton’s face was as kind as ever. For now.

Never tell anyone about your curse.

But they’d never set rules stopping him discussing what people already knew.

Even so, he braced himself for pain before he nodded.

Patton looked like he might cry.

“So –what?” Demanded Virgil, who had started pacing back and forth down the short length of the bed. “He did that? This Lucius guy?”

“How do we stop it? Do we….kill him?”

“Patton!”

“Well I don’t know!”

“It wasn’t Lucius.” Roman muttered.

He risked a glance at Virgil who was nodding fervently, shaking both hands out in front of himself as he tried to process everything, “No. He – you had it before right? That’s how he was able to get you to go with him.”

Slowly, Roman nodded.

“Was it before we got to the city?” Logan asked. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, a thoughtful frown on his face as he gently rotated the flashcards in his hands.

“The forest!” Vigil yelped before Roman had a chance to respond. “When you disappeared right? I knew you were out of it that night! That’s when it happened?”

“Oh, Roman.” Patton gasped, “You poor thing. Has this has been going on for days?”

Roman couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. Drawing his knees to his chest he hunched over them, his shoulders shaking. “No.” he managed to gasp out. “No, not the forest.”

“So…when did it happen?” Patton asked uncertainty. Roman could easily picture the three of them glancing at each other, trying to put the pieces together. He kept his eyes firmly on his knees. He didn’t want to see the moment of realisation.

“Before the forest?” Virgil asked hesitantly. Roman nodded without looking up.

“When I met you…” Virgil continued after a moments silence, “you wouldn’t come back into the tavern with me – you said you didn’t want the innkeeper to tell you to play another night.”

“I remember that.” Logan said “You met us on the road. I thought that was odd at the time. I assumed you were going to lie in wait to rob us.”

Roman could hear the understanding seeping into their voices. He’d been cursed since they met him. He’d been a liability since they met him – they’d hired someone to protect them who could be ordered to throw his sword down by any foe who happened to try. They were going to feel so betrayed. They were going to be so angry with him.

How could he have not told them?

“Oh, Roman – how could we have not noticed?”

Romans head shot up. “What?” he croaked.

Now Patton really did look like he was going to cry, his eyes suspiciously watery. “You’ve been dealing with this all by yourself for – for years?”

“So- “ now Virgil was the one shaking – “So any time I’ve told you to ‘shut up’ you-“

“If you don’t give a timeframe it doesn’t matter much.” Roman blurted quickly, wanting to remove the look of horror from Virgil’s face – “I mean when I was younger it maybe would have but, but I’ve learned work around it so –“

“Younger?” his rambling did not seem to be soothing Virgil’s panic. “How young?”

“Er. Well.” He glanced between the two of them “From when I was a baby. I mean, I don’t remember not being like this.” Patton and Virgil were staring at him with identical slack jawed expressions. Roman wished the bed would swallow him up and spit him out onto he street. “But hey – I was apparently a very agreeable baby – stopped crying so soon as you asked!” he grinned awkwardly, give them a thumbs up with his undamaged hand.

They did not look reassured.

“So, have we ever –“ Patton started,”-have we ever made you do something you didn’t want to-“

“NO! No, Pat - you’re always so polite and if, if it’s not an order it doesn’t count so-“

“I’m not polite.” Virgil muttered.

“You don’t order though.” Roman said quickly, “You’re too-“ he tried to find a nice way to say ‘too riddled with anxiety to give directives’ – “awkward.” he finished sheepishly.

Virgil bristled. “I told you to get lost.” He snarled. “In the forest.”

There was a silence. Roman found himself staring at his knees again and forced his head up to meet Vigils gaze.

“Well. That was unfortunate. But it was fine – you’re both good trackers, you found me easily enough so-“

“But what if we hadn’t!?” Virgil all but yelled, “What if you’d just been lost in the woods till you starved to death or-“

“Virgil.” Patton soothed, “Calm down, he’s fine.”

“He’s not! He’s not safe with us! How many times have we done something to, to-”

“It’s fine.” Roman announced calmly, cutting Virgil off before he could work himself up any further. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“What doe that mean?”

“It means – I won’t travel with you anymore. You don’t have to worry about protecting me I’ll just-“

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Roman no!”

“Are you going to order me to stay?” He snapped.

That shut everyone up.

He glared at the pair of them. “Well?”

“No.” Patton said calmly “Of course not. It’s just that-”

“What happens if you disobey an order?” Logan interrupted, causing the other three to jump.

The scholar had been standing so still, gazing off into the distance whilst the argument went on around him, that Roman had almost forgotten he was there.

“I cant.” He answered eventually, trying not to feel resentful of Logan for causing this whole mess.

“But what if you try?” Logan said, “If I told you to raise your hand and you tried to keep it down – “

“It would hurt.” Roman gritted out.

“Hurt how? Can you describe it?” Logan tucked his flashcards away and pulled out a notebook, quill at the ready. Roman gaped at him.

“Logan.” Patton interrupted, “I think maybe Roman needs a break from questions right now-“

“But if we don’t know the parameters of his condition then how are we supposed to fix it?” Logan argued.

“I’ve tried. To fix it.” Roman growled out.

“But you were by yourself before.” Logan said dismissively “Now you have me, well, all of us, working on the problem. I’m sure we will be able to –“

“I wasn’t by myself.” Roman said coldly.

Logan really did remind him of Julius sometimes. They had the same stubborn determination to get the answers they were seeking. But Roman was not going to be anyone’s pet experiment again.

“I am Prince Romulus of Notaleveale.” he announced grandly, as If he was reclining on a throne instead of uncomfortable bed. “I have had the finest minds of the fae and human worlds look into my curse, I hardly think a failed apprentice and a couple of backwater deserters are going to have more success.”

He swept an imperious gaze over all three of them, amused to find they had finally been shocked into silence.

“I will be returning to my kingdom. Your services will no longer be required.”

Part 9

[maliceinborderland]

From Here, to the Moon, and Back

Summary: A collection of moments in Niragi’s journey raising his daughter alone.

Word Count: 7,066

Warnings: brief mentions of character death(reader is deceased), mentions of depression, bit of swearing

Genre: Single Dad Niragi AU, oofc Niragi, slight angst, slice of life, fluff, some crack ig?

**oofc : out of character

A/N: this took me FOREVER to post. I wanted to make this MUCH longer and go more into detail as well as provide more dialogue but this new post restrictions are killing me. I might turn this into a mini series in which y’all give me prompts and I write more extensive scenarios depicting those situations/prompts. ALSO: the depiction of Niragi in this fic is akin to what I believe his behavior outside of the borderlands. **spoiler** he is nothing like his borderlands self in the real world, and he doesn’t even remember his action that took place there nor did they actually happen as they occurred in a different plane of existence **end of spoiler**

A soft, whimper snapped Niragi out of his slumber. He slowly sat up in bed, strands of his unruly hair falling over his eyes. The whimpering continued as he got up and walked to the crib by the window.

He stared at Tsuki as she wriggled about, her cheeks bright pink and small droplets forming at the brims of her wide eyes. She stared up at him, her lip quivering, not yet crying.

“What gives?” he said, quietly, more to himself than to her.

Niragi checked her diaper to see if she needed changing. Clean and dry.

He went to the changing station next to the dresser, fetching a clean bottle, formula, and a bottle of water. Already second nature, he prepared a bottle for her. He made his way back to the crib, nudging the bottle’s nipple against Tsuki’s mouth, to no avail.

“Come on, kid.” he mumbled. “We both need to sleep and you’re not exactly helping me out here.” He sighed and found her pacifier somewhere by her feet. Oddly enough, she suckled on it no problem.

What a weird kid, he thought, shaking his head. 

He let her lay there, hoping she’d end up falling asleep. He made his way back to his own bed, throwing himself face down onto the mattress, releasing a deep breath.

A few minutes later, having felt like seconds, Tsuki began to softly whimper again. 

Niragi groaned into his pillow. Just one night of peace and quiet. That’s all he wanted.

He debated on letting Tsuki cry it out as he had been. Deep down he knew it was wrong, but he just didn’t know how to go about this parenting business. 

Tsuki’s whimpers rose in volume, her whimpering becoming full fledged cries, and hopelessness began to overwhelm him.

Niragi crawled out of bed once again, and loomed over her crib, his breath heavy, teeth clenched. His fingers curled over the rails of the crib, his knuckles white. Tsuki’s cries continued, and Niragi felt himself starting to completely lose it. His breathing became shallow and heavy, and he felt lightheaded. 

He sunk to the floor, his back against the railing of the crib, tired out of his mind. His eyes ached and throbbed from lack of sleep, eyelids heavy, and his body felt like it was being weighed down from exhaustion.

He just wanted to rest. Just a little bit. 

He wanted to go numb. 

He wanted to feel nothing.

He wanted everything to stop.

Just a few moments of peace and quiet was all he wanted. He just wanted to sleep and forget the reality he was condemned to live in.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, what sins he committed that he was atoning for now.

Stop… just stop… be quiet…. he thought.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, covering them.

Be quiet, he begged silently. Please just be quiet.

Tears began to threaten to fall from his own eyes.

If she was here, she’d know what to do, he thought. She should be here.

Tsuki’s cries became piercing and impossible to drown out.

Niragi stood up almost too quickly, stumbling slightly over his own feet, and leaned over the crib railing.

“What? What?! WHAT?!” He asked, a little too loudly. “You’re not messy. You’re not hungry. You won’t sleep. Just what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Tsuki’s cries hushed, and the baby girl looked up at him eyes wide, her lip quivering.

Whether she stopped crying to listen to him or because she was afraid of him, Niragi couldn’t tell.

Tears began to spill down his face.

“I’m trying. I’m fucking trying.” He cried. “I don’t know what to do. Do you think I wanted this? No! I wasn’t even ready for kids! But your mom…” his voice broke, “your mom wanted you so bad. And I went along with what she wanted. Mommy always got what she wanted, and now look! She’s not even here! How fucked is that?!” Sobs began to bubble up from his throat. “How could she leave like that?” He rested his head against the railing, allowing himself to let it all out. He didn’t care how loudly the sobs ripped out of his throat, he just couldn’t hold back.

The whimpering began again, and he looked at the baby girl with his piercing eyes.

“What? What do you want?!” He yelled, and Tsuki became silent once more as she stared up at her father, their gazes connecting.

He looked over her. She’d grown quite a bit in the past few weeks. Her downy hair had thickened, and was nearly a full head of dark, raven colored hair. Her milky skin was tinged bright pink from her crying, especially near her eyes and cheeks. But his heartstrings tugged as he looked deep into her eyes. Your eyes. Sure, they resembled his eye shape more, but the gaze, color, lashes, and depth… that was all you. 

She stared up at him so intently and after what seemed like an eternity, Niragi felt like he understood.

“You just want someone to hold you, huh?” A stray tear fell from his right eye. Carefully, he did his best to lift Tsuki out of the crib, her whimpers shushing altogether. “That’s all you wanted, huh? It’s what you needed?” He felt a knot form in his throat again, and more tears began to fall. “Me, too.” He gingerly caressed her cheek, his scarred hands a huge contrast compared to her soft, unblemished skin.

How could he have been so careless?

He hadn’t been the only one hurting.

He wasn’t the only one who missed you.

Slowly, Niragi began to softly rock her back and forth in his arms as he paced around the room.

“You wanna know how Mommy and I met? Hm?” He asked her. “We met at a support group. There was an accident a few years ago in Shibuya, and your mommy and I got caught in the middle of it. That’s how I got all these scars, you know? Your mommy had some, too, but she was still the most beautiful person in the room. Always.” He smiled down at Tsuki, who had begun to coo quietly. “She asked me out first, too. I thought she wasn’t serious, but she was. My scars aren’t so bad right now, but they were back then. She still saw something in me, though. Something worth loving. We loved each other a lot.” Tsuki took hold of Niragi’s finger, squeezing it tightly. Niragi went on to tell her several stories of how he and you started off your relationship, your milestones as a couple, and even your wedding. “When your mom told me she was pregnant, I was scared shitless, but you know what? We loved each other. And it’s because we loved each other that you exist. You were made out of love, Tsuki.” Niragi stood by Tsuki’s crib, where moonlight from the window began to pour in.

He shifted the curtain open a bit more, the moon coming more into view. “You see the moon? That’s where mommy is, along with all the stars in the sky. And you wanna know what else? There’s a famous quote about it. ‘月が綺麗ですね(Tsuki ga kirei desu ne?).’ You know what it means? It means ‘the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’ But you know something really cool? It’s that some people use this phrase to tell each other they love each other. Like their love is so true and obvious just like how there’s no doubt in the moon being beautiful. That’s why we named you ‘Tsuki,’ you know?” 

Tsuki cooed curiously at the repetition of her name, but her eyelids began to flutter with sleepiness. 

“For us, your mom and I, nothing was more certain than our love for each other and our love for you.” He gave her a sad smile, shifting his weight as he lay himself on the bed, with her resting on his chest. Tsuki wriggled a bit as she settled into the unfamiliar position but ultimately sighed with content. 

Niragi did his best to find a position ideal for the both of them without jostling her too much and being as gently as he could, so as to not disturb Tsuki. He looked down at her and he was met with her tired gaze. Tsuki sighed deeply, bewildering Niragi completely, because frankly, he didn’t know babies could make such deep gestures. The corner of his mouth lifted. She was a weird baby, indeed.

He felt her muzzle up against his chest, cooing quietly. He chuckled softly, his fingers twitched and he reached his hand up to place the palm of his hand over her small back, lightly patting. He’d seen people do it in movies to try and coax babies to sleep, but he’d only ever done this action when trying to burp her, so he figured he ought to give using it to put her to sleep a shot. Niragi watched Tsuki’s eyelids flutter shut with a deep exhale.

She had been tired, too.

Niragi felt his heart swell at how Tsuki looked as she slept. The way her lashes lay flat against her cheeks, how her lower lip pouted out in her sleep. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the light thrumming of heart against his chest.

This little girl was his world.

“I love you, you know? I love you so much, Tsuki.” he hummed, as he gently rubbed circles on her back. “From here, to the moon, and back.”

Niragi had done his best to figure out how to manage on his own, doing his best to limit the amount of phone calls he made to either Usagi or Arisu with panicked parenting questions.

Tsuki was a relatively easy baby to take care of. She was quiet for the most part, only becoming fussy when she was hungry or sleepy. Her sleep schedule seemed to have adjusted to Niragi’s, as he had found that the kid could only really fully fall asleep if she slept on his chest. Sometimes he took advantage of her midday nap to catch a few Zs himself.

Niragi also found that she didn’t particularly like not having him where she could see him. She was a clingy little freak. He didn’t mind having her around though, and would often sit her on his lap while he worked at his desk. Sometimes he’d offer commentary as to what he was doing to the games he was working on, or what he’d fixed to make them run smoother. He knew Tsuki didn’t understand, but when she’d gurgle or make baby noises while he talked, he almost felt like she was responding to his conversation. Whenever he’d play video games himself, he’d still keep her on his lap and he found it amusing how entranced she’d become by all the colors and flashing lights coming from the monitor. Cutely, she’d giggle and kick her feet whenever Niragi would voice his excitement in the games he was playing. Clearly she found him entertaining.

When it came to eating, there wasn’t anything Tsuki wouldn’t eat. Except peas. She really hated peas. The one time he tried feeding her pea Gerber, she ate it just fine, only to spit it all back up on one of his only white t shirts. He assumed the experience of having to eat such an atrocious mash traumatized the poor kid because when he tried feeding them to her again, she just about slapped the pack out of his hand and refused to open her mouth to accept the spoon, even if he made airplane noises. She usually got a kick out of those.

Still. Niragi learned quickly.

He had come across a baby book you had put together with spaces left blank for pictures and writing, meant to document Tsuki’s milestones. He’d made sure to keep it up to date as much as he could. He’d managed to capture pictures of the first time she tried solid food(which was really just a piece of fruit she tried sucking on), the stunned look on her face when she’d gone to get her vaccines and to his surprise she did not cry, he also captured the first time she sat up on her own, and another where she was midway to rolling on to her back, one where she was aggressively nibbling on her foot, he also included a few selfies in which he’d caught her tugging on his nose ring or one of his many ear rings. The kid liked shiny things. He knew that you’d have gone crazy trying to fill the book up, wanting to capture every moment.

At 9 months old, Tsuki learned how to crawl. The way Niragi found this out was rather unconventional.

He could have sworn he set her down in the living room. On the carpet right in front of the TV. He knew exactly. Why was there no baby there? All he’d done was leave her there for 5 minutes while he answered the door to receive and sign for a package and as soon as he’d come back she was gone. There was no one else in the house. She couldn’t have moved on her own.

Could she?

“Tsuki?” He began to call out.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Niragi ran through the kitchen, checking under the table, inside the pantry, nothing. He continued to call out to her, staying quiet enough to try and listen for a response, but nothing ever came. His socks slid across the floor as he ran into the nursery. A few toys were laying on the floor but no baby in sight. He poked his head into the bathroom, checking behind the clothes hamper, and inside the bathtub, with no luck. He checked the laundry room, inside the clothes baskets, inside the washer and dryer, hoping she hadn’t crawled in there.

Thankfully, she did not, but still he had not found her.

“Listen, kid, your papa’s not really into hide and seek, so if you’re hiding, you best come on out before I totally lose my shit.”

He ran to his room, this time stumbling onto his knees before running into it only to see that it was perfectly empty. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed.

“Hello? Niragi?” Her voice sounded tired, almost as if she was just waking up.

“KUINA! I NEED YOUR HELP!” He was beginning to panic.

“Sheesh! Not so loud, you’re gonna busy my eardrums!”

“It’s Tsuki! I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Where’d you leave her? Are you sure your mom or Yuzuha didn’t pick her up?” Her tone was a little too cavalier for his taste, especially in the situation he found himself in.

“I left her in the living room, and I left to answer the door, and when I came back she was gone! I looked everywhere! The kitchen, the bathroom, my bedroom, her bedroom, the laundry room, the fucking closets.”

“Did you leave your back door open? Could anyone have gone inside at any point?” Her voice sounded more awake, now assessing the situation.

“Yes! It’s locked and dead bolted. No one’s been in here other than me and her, so unless someone climbed through a fucking window-“

“Okay, smartass, just check the rooms again. UNDER the furniture this time. Maybe she crawled under somewhere.”

“I told you I checked everywhere!” He checked under his bed, just in case, to find nothing. He walked through the rooms again, looking under furniture, to no avail. “The kid’s gone! I’ve got to call the police and make a report-“ he got to the end of the hallway and noticed the door to his study was slightly ajar, a faint glow coming from the dark room. No...

“What are they gonna do? You said no one’s been in or out of your house. God, how irresponsible could you have been to leave a baby on her own, Niragi?”

“Kuina, I’ll call you right back.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOULL CALL ME BA-” he hung up, cutting her off.

He walked into his dimly lit office, the faint glow of the tv he kept in there lightly lighting up the room.“Tsuki?”

He heard a soft mumbling coming from the room, and as he moved further inside, he saw his daughter on standing while holding on to the couch. She turned her little head to face him, his game controller in her hands, before letting herself fall back on her behind to sit on the floor.

“Uhhuh banana pplllbt,” she mused in her baby speak. Without so much as a glance his way, she began to chomp down on the controller with her gums.

“God damn it, kid!” He groaned in frustration. And relief. He sunk to the floor, running his hands through his hair, breathing shakily. “Holy shit.”

This caught Tsuki’s attention, and she released the controller to crawl his way. Despite his racing heart and frustrations, Niragi watched in awe as his little girl crawled his way. She giggled and squealed as she did so, clearly excited that she had learned something new. As soon as she got to where his legs were, she sat up and outstretched her little arms up at him, asking to be picked up, to which Niragi obliged. He held his little girl close to him, gently combing down her unruly hair. “You really had me scared for a minute, kid.” Tsuki cooed up at him. “Yeah. How’d you learn to move around like that, huh?”

He knew she was around the right age to start moving around, but he hadn’t really mentally prepared for it to actually happen. He did his best to read all the books and guide her so that she stayed at the same pace as other babies, but he still found himself in awe when she succeeded. All of the reading in the world, however, didn’t prepare him for what she did next. She bounced on his lap, reaching up to touch her baby hands up to his face. “Paaa... paaa... baba..”

His eyes widened. She mumbled things all the time. Ma, ba, ga, goo, all sorts of noises. But that felt a little too... smart. She had looked right at him, pointed at him and everything, and said what sounded like papa. That was too much of a coincidence. “Kid, you can’t play with Papa’s emotions like that. I’m not ready.”

“Papapa?” She repeated, smacking her little hand on his face.

“Are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying? Or am I crazy? I’m crazy aren’t I?”

“Papa!” She called out, giggling.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He held his little girl close, doing all he could to not cry.

Niragi learned that Tsuki didn’t like strangers. She wouldn’t get too fussy, but she hid in the crook of his neck whenever they were out and she didn’t recognize the people that approached them.

She also got visibly excited when she did recognize people. Especially Kuina, or “koo” as she managed to say. Y/N had told her early on in the pregnancy that she hoped Kuina would be the baby’s godmother, and this was a role she took very seriously, always coming to visit with tons of toys and clothes. Kuina’s mother also deeply grew to love Tsuki, often sending food and side dishes with Kuina for them. Tsuki wasn’t particularly fond of her doctor, Dr. Chishiya. Matter of fact, she often kicked or smacked his hands away whenever he tried checking her, and only really let him do anything if he bribed her with candy. One time, he tried carrying her to put her on the baby scale, and pulled on his hair right at the root, causing him hand her over back to Niragi and say “I don’t need to check. She’s healthy enough,” whilst rubbing at his head.” Niragi noticed that the doctors and nurses made a point of tying their hair up whenever Tsuki was around for an appointment.

“Serves him right for prancing around with that mane of his. He reminded you of one of your dolls, didn’t he, Tsuki?” Niragi didn’t quite like him either at first, but the doctor had understood their situation and made himself available 24/7, which led to Niragi considering him as a family friend, much to the doctor’s chagrin.

“She can call me Uncle Shuntaro.” He had said whilst visiting the Niragi home after Tsuki had a late night fever. Despite her little attitude, Dr. Chishiya had developed a sort of liking to the kid. She had character, he thought.

“She can barely say Papa, and you expect her to say that mouthful, Shuntaro?” Niragi asked, incredulously.

Chishiya eyed him coldly with his feline eyes. “I said SHE could call me that. Not you.”

As Tsuki’s first birthday approached, no one really knew how to ask Niragi on whether they’d be having a birthday party for her. After all, it wasn’t just Tsuki’s birthday. It also marked the first year anniversary of you being gone. He had done his best to not think about it, even with the lack of prompting from the others, but this was something he still kept in mind. Birthdays only came once in a lifetime, but then again, so did a love like the one you and he had shared. How could he celebrate one while ignoring the other, or have a service for you and not doing anything for his daughter. He loved you both more than life itself.

He came up with a plan to try and do both. He wanted to make it a day for you both. So, Niragi had packed a bag for Tsuki and taken her on a tour of all the places the two of you frequented as a couple.

He took her to the arcade the two of you had gone on your first date, telling her of how you’d kissed his cheek when he managed to get the high score on the Alien FPS game. He took her to the cafe the two of you had often gone to during your lunch hours, and even fed her a bit of the filling from the egg sandwich you used to like so much. He found that Tsuki liked it a lot too. He took her to the botanical gardens. You had absolutely loved flowers and the two of you had gone almost every weekend. He took her to the zoo and made a point to take her to the aquatic exhibits and tell her how much you loved water animals, especially how “mama loved how cute the seals looked when they bounced all over the place.” He made sure to buy Tsuki a white seal plush at the gift store. He took her to an old video store, where the two of you often found yourselves on boring nights without much to do and had filled the void with movies. He bought copies of a few of your favorites, along with a few of his, making a mental note to watch them with Tsuki when she was old enough. Lastly, he took her to the carnival. He didn’t play any games, but he walked by them and told Tsuki all about which ones the two of you would play together. He told her about how he couldn’t explain how, but the two of you had always been drawn to this place and how free you both felt being here, almost as if you’d been there together in another life. He showed her the old swinging pirate ship and he told Tsuki about how it was your favorite ride and how one time you rode it so many times that you ended up puking cherry icee all over the side of the ride. He’d never seen so many people run away screaming. Niragi took Tsuki to the photo booth, and told her about how you had both gotten the idea to kiss each other on the cheek at the same time and ended up kissing each other for the first time on accident. The second one that came after wasn’t. He took her on a ride on the Ferris wheel, doing his best to hold her tightly and show her the view. He told her about after 3 years of dating, he had asked you to marry him at the very top.

Tsuki had smiled a lot throughout the day, notably whenever he used the words “mama” and “papa,” this didn’t go unnoticed by Niragi, and he felt partially guilty. He felt like maybe he should be talking to her about you more, but some days it was too much.

The ride home was a quiet one, other than for Tsuki’s babbling in the backseat as she tried to sing along to the faint music from the radio. He peeked at her through the rear view mirror. She was really starting to look like you. As she grew, her hair had gotten longer, and aside from his hair color, the texture resembled yours. Her eyes, although the shape resembling his, were the same color as yours. She had his nose, but her lips were yours. She was the perfect combination of you both with just the right amount of your features to ease his mind that the image of you wasn’t totally lost. He missed you. A lot. You had blessed him with a daughter, and he knew she was not meant to fill the void he had in his heart, but having her around really eased some of his pain.

As he approached the dark house, he spoke. “You know,” he began, Tsuki’s face perking up to look at him. “Back when Mama was around... I used to come home and the lights would be on.” She gurgled in response. “I’d go in and tell her I was home, and she’d always be there to welcome me. She always had dinner just about done by the time I came home from the office.” Tsuki hummed. “This is a house. But your Mama made it feel like a home.” Niragi pulled into the driveway, and with a heavy sigh gathered Tsuki out of her car seat and her souvenirs. He fumbled with his keys only to find that the door was unlocked. “That’s fucking weird,” he thought out loud. “I could have sworn I locked it...” He stepped inside, feeling the wall for the light-switch, only for his hand to touch someone else’s. Before he could react, the lights came on.

“SURPRISE!”

Niragi jumped back in shock, holding Tsuki protectively.

The room was filled with all of your close friends, all of which were wearing ridiculous party hats, and the living room was decorated with pink balloons and a sign that read “Happy Birthday Tsuki.” Dr. Chishiya aka Uncle Shuntaro. Kuina and her mother. Yuzuha and Arisu. Mr. Aguni the landlord. A few of your workplace coworkers were there too.

“What’s all of this?” He asked, stunned.

“We couldn’t let Tsuki’s birthday pass without a proper celebration.” Kuina explained. “No birthday is a birthday without a cake.”

“She’s right,” said Chishiya. “You celebrated the day your way, but we wanted to celebrate, too.”

“She’s such a precious baby, we just wanted to do something special for her.” Kuina’s mother chimed in.

“We know how much you’ve through...” Yuzuha began.

“We just wanted to show our support.” Arisu continued.

“For the both of you.” Yuzuha agreed.

“You’re both real fine kids, so all of us got together and put a little something together for ya.” said Aguni.

“I can’t... I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am to you. All of you.” Niragi began, “the past year... really hasn’t been the easiest. With Y/N gone, and having to raise Tsuki on my own, trying to get my life together for the both of us... all of you have been such a big help to me. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll never be able to repay you for all you’ve done for me and Tsuki.”

“There’s no need,” Aguni waved his hand, dismissively.

“He’s right.” Kuina smiled. “Everything we’ve done is because we wanted to.”

“You’re our friend.” nodded Yuzuha.

“You’re like family.” Arisu corrected.

And Niragi agreed. All these friends had become like an extended family of his. Always there.

His knees were shaking, a cold sweat formed on his brow. He felt queasy and on the brink of throwing up. He wasn’t ready for this. Quite frankly, he’d never be.

“You know, if you want to wait another year, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Papa, I’m five. I gotta go to school.”

They said the first day was the hardest. Niragi had held the slightest hope that Tsuki would throw a tantrum and outright refuse to go to school, but to his disappointment she had been rather excited. She was incredibly bright for her age, already knowing how to count to one hundred, knowing her colors, as well as all the letters of the alphabet. She even knew how to write her name in Kanji, Hiragana, and Katakana.

“I know you do, but still, Papa will be lonely without you.”

“But you’ve got work stuff to do.”

“But you’re my little helper.”

“I’m a kid, papa.”

“Since when are you a little smartass?”

She shrugged. “If I’m smart, that means I gotta go to school.”

“I- Now where the fu-”

“Papa, hurry up! I’m gonna be late!” Tsuki grabbed on to his hand and dragged him away from the parking lot and closer to the school gates. He could feel the eyes of others burning holes into his figure. This was another reason he worried about her coming to school. The prying eyes of others. Even though the surgeries he’d gotten had managed to make him look relatively normal, upon closer inspection, there was still visible scarring. He’d never forgive himself if he became the cause of Tsuki being bullied.

He signed in at the front desk and gathered all the paperwork for Tsuki’s schedule, class directory, and list of school supplies.

“You’ve got art class.” He mused.

“Really?” The corners of her eyes perked up in curiosity.

“I didn’t think kids could learn art.”

“Aunt Yuzuha’s kids draw on the walls. Uncle Arisu calls that art.” She said. “I think it’s messy.”

“Well aren’t you a little critic.” He chuckled.

“It’s true. What kind of dummy makes grass red?”

“Tsuki, you can’t call other kids a dummy.”

“But you call other people things, too.”

“I’m a grown up.”

“Then can i call them dummy when I’m a grown up, too?”

“For sure.”

Tsuki nodded in understanding.

The two reached her classroom and while Tsuki was led to her seat by the teacher, Niragi stood to the side with all the other parents, most of them being moms. If he was being honest, he felt awkward and out of place. Compared to the other parents, he was sure he was the youngest parent there. Chills ran down his neck, as he looked around and saw the other parents throwing side glances at him, and a soft hum of whispers surrounded him. He tried to shrug it off and focus on Tsuki, who was now chatting away with her classmates. He noticed that the other kids say something and pointed in his direction, to which Tsuki would shrug and and answer like it was no big deal. Oh no, he thought. It’s starting.

“First time?” A voice said behind him.

Niragi turned to see an older man with shaggy black hair covered in a beige fedora, his eyes hidden behind big dark sunglasses. What kind of a freak wears a hat and shades indoors? Niragi thought, but nonetheless, he nodded. The older man patted him on the back. “It’s never easy.” He said with a smile. “Which ones yours?”

“Umm, the little girl over there. The one with the silver clips in her hair.” Niragi described. “Her name is Tsuki.”

“Oh, she’s absolutely precious!” The older man gushed.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve got two. The boy and the girl on either side of your girl. Twins.” He said proudly. “Nara and Naoki. Little devils, those two.”

“Is this your first time here, too?”

“Me? No. I’m an old timer. My oldest, Nanase, is a second year at the middle school nearby.” He sighed with a smile. “But just looking at your face I can tell this is your first time.”

“Really? You can tell?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wove his hand up and down, dismissively. “We’ve all been there. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Kobayashi?” He nudged the lady next to him, who gave him nothing more than an awkward side eye. “Don’t mind her. She’s a hoot at PTA meetings.”

The teacher interrupted the parents’ chatter and asked them to bid farewell to the children so that they could commence the first day of school. Niragi panicked and looked at Tsuki who flashed him a dimply grin. He took a deep breath. She’s fine. She wants to be here. The two shared one last look before he walked out of the classroom with the other parents.

“Hey, kid.” He heard the strange man call out, causing Niragi to look back at him once more. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Niragi. Suguru. I’m Niragi Suguru.” He bowed politely.

“Nice to meet you, Niragi.” He tipped his hat in acknowledgement. “I’m Danma Takeru.”

The two chatted for a bit more and exchanged numbers with Mr. Danma, or Hatter as he liked to be called due to his profession, saying the kids just had to get together for play dates sometime.

The day passed by horribly slow, with Niragi getting virtually no work done. His thoughts consumed with how Tsuki must be doing at school. 3 o clock couldn’t come soon enough and be just about sped to the school. Tsuki waited for him by the gate, holding several papers in her hands.

“Papa!” She exclaimed, running excitedly up to her dad.

“Hey, kid!” Niragi crouched to pick her up in his arms. “How’d it go?” He asked as he walked them back to his car.

“It was kind of boring.” She admitted. “But that’s cuz I already know all the stuff.”

“Really!”

“Uh huh.” She nodded.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh!” She held up the papers. “I made these! Ms. Nobuo let us use paints to draw shapes! And the art teacher lady Ms. Osaki let me use pastel thingies!” She held up her work for him to see.

“Wow! You did great, kiddo.” He took the papers from her hands as he ser her into her car seat and buckled her in. As he got into his own, he looked over the papers, smiling at her work. She really had a knack for creativity. Tsuki chatted away about her day on the ride home, and Niragi felt at slightly at ease that her school experience had gone better than his.

“Oh my goodness! Papa, I almost forgot!”

“What’s up?”

“Papa, all the kids kept asking me about you.”

His eyebrows shot up, a bit concerned. “Me?”

“Uh huh. All the kids said your hair and the shiny thingies on your face make you look like a rockstar.”

“Huh.” He chuckled, dryly. “They said that?”

“Uh huh! And then all the boys went all crazy cuz I told them you work on video games and that you and Mama helped make that Borderland game.”

He smiled at her through the rear view mirror. “You told them about Mama?” He felt his heart tug a bit. Kids always said what they thought, so he could imagine what kind of responses they might have at Tsuki’s... situation.

“Yup! They think you guys are so cool and that they wished their parents were like you guys.”

“Is that so, kid?” He chuckled, relieved she had managed to get positive attention. “Did you make friends?”

“Not really... all the kids were kinda noisy... I talked a lot with these kids... what were their names? Naka and Naori!”

“You mean Nara and Naoki?” Niragi laughed.

Tsuki gasped. “How did you know?!”

“I met their dad. He’s kind of...”

“Weird?” Tsuki answered. “They’re weird, too.” She giggled.

Tsuki’s school years came and went, and she had grown quite a lot. She had become taller, and her hair had become longer and fell down to her waist. Unfortunately, she’d inherited his eyesight and needed to wear glasses, but she didn’t seem to mind. Some time in her early teens she had asked him if she could get her ears pierced, to which he was a it stunned she felt she needed to ask, since he had gotten his without permission from anyone and just cuz he’d felt like it. He agreed, and went along with her. What he didn’t expect was her wanting to get four done on each ear on the first sitting, and had been slightly proud at his daughter’s determination. However... Niragi wasn’t too happy when he found out she’d gotten her belly button pierced while on a school trip to a beach resort.

She did well in school, she participated in school clubs, and never complained about doing her chores around the house. She even had a handful of friends, for which Niragi was thankful for. On one occasion, he’d overheard one of them refer to him as a dilf, which he didn’t understand, and when he asked Tsuki about it, she became flustered and urgently changed the subject, and when he asked Kuina, she laughed in his face. He didn’t dare look up the meaning online.

They say parents are never prepared for their children’s milestones, but when Tsuki graduated high school with honors, he really couldn’t believe it. 18 years had gone by quickly right before his eyes, and the little girl 

25 years had passed in the blink of an eye. Tsuki had graduated from university, having pursued a degree as a software engineer specializing in AI development. During her internship, she’d met someone special and developed a friendship which blossomed into romance. Of all the things Niragi had never given much thought to doing, giving his daughter away was at the very top.

Tsuki had shook nervously as Niragi walked her down the aisle, whispering to him “Please, don’t let me fall, Papa.” To which he replied that even if she did, he’d be right there to pick her up. He was thankful her groom came from a large family, believing it to be a far less lonely atmosphere. Nonetheless, he was happy that he had been lucky enough to amass a good deal of close friends to accompany him on this journey.

At the reception, Kuina and Yuzuha had just about shoved Niragi on the dance floor for his father daughter dance with Tsuki, who had taken it upon herself to choose the song. With the lyrics of “When She Loved Me,” matched to the scene of Niragi and Tsuki, rest assured, there was not a single dry eye in the house.

During the dinner, somewhere within him, Niragi felt the courage to stand and tap his spoon against his champagne glass. “I’d like to say a few words. I didn’t prepare anything, but... I’d like to speak from the heart.” He announced, to which everyone in the hall suddenly hushed in respect. “The last time I went to a wedding,” Niragi began, “was about 26 years ago. And just like the bride and groom, I was marrying the love of my life.” He looked down at his glass of champagne, briefly, before continuing. “Love is a crazy thing, really. It’s having this connection with someone that you just can’t explain and you really don’t have to because they already understand. Love is scary. It’s finding someone that accepts you, flaws and all, whether they be physical, emotions, psychological, metaphorical, what have you. Love is pretending to lose at a video game you’ve cleared at least 20 times just so you can watch them be happy.” He chuckled as the crowd quietly laughed. “It’s about getting a call at three in the morning asking you if you want to go out and get donuts at the 24/7 donut shop downtown. Love is... not being able to hear anyone say your given name because no one else says it as beautifully as that one person. Love is hating rainy days all your life but learning to love them when they drag you under the rain to dance. It’s when you’re driving and she reaches out to hold your hand. It’s about holding each other after nightmares and reminding each other that none of it’s real, even when reality sometimes feels like it’s a nightmare. It’s about treasuring every single moment because you’ll never know when it will be the last.” At this point, everyone who wasn’t crying already was tearing up at the realization of Niragi’s words. “It’s about being scared together. When your plans change and suddenly you’re getting ready to bring another life into the world together. That look between the two of you when you feel your baby kick for the first time at the sound of you voice. Staying up until dawn figuring out baby names because your child deserves something totally unique. Love is when you hold your baby girl and you realize that you really can love someone just as much, if not more, than the love of your life because... she is your life. As some of you know, Y/N isn’t with us today, but I know better than anyone that she would have loved to be here, and even though we can’t see her, she’s still with us.” He smiled. “the love she and I had... I like to think of it as something that only happens once in a lifetime, because to me, there really was no one else I could see myself with that wasn’t Y/N. But the way I see you two kids with each other... this is YOUR once in a lifetime. Treasure it. Always.” He looked directly into his new son-in-law’s eyes. “My life is in your hands now.”

[thinking1bee]

When It Reigns Part 9

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Kryptonian!Reader, Parent!Reader, Parent!Kara, Estranged Parent, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Humor, Bad Dreams, Memory Loss

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

“Record number 8-A237,” Lena began after she started the recording device. “My hypothesis was supported, with the subject showing many signs of becoming the alter ego. They are not aware of doing so. The subject has described the experience as a blackout, with no memory after they regain consciousness and limited memory before it happens. All events coincide with each other, between the blackouts and the attacks on the city, which provides some evidence that when the subject does lose consciousness, they become the rogue Kryptonian. As of now, I don’t know what the trigger is for transformation, though anger seems to be one of them. Subject has been kept in a medically induced coma but to proceed with further testing, I will need them awake. I’ll begin the waking process now.”

Lena ended the recording and fiddled with the IV that was inserted into you. She watched as you slowly gained consciousness, your face scrunching as you fought the fatigue that was weighing you down. When Lena saw that you were coming around, she stepped away from your side and exited the testing area, touching a switch on her tablet to activate the defense systems.

“Y/n, can you hear me?”

You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, and then you released a heavy sigh, sitting up and rubbing your face.

“Hey, Lena,” you croaked, your mouth incredibly dry. “What’s going on?”

She was apprehensive as she looked at you, and you looked at her in confusion. You noticed that she moved you away from the other hospital bed and put you into a room that was built like a bomb shelter. You also noticed that Lena was standing considerably far away. Slowly you got to your feet and approached her.

“Lena, why are you over-”

You yelped when you ran face first into something. It cut you off mid sentence and you were left standing there as you rubbed your nose.

“What…?”

You reached out and touch an invisible wall, a forcefield of some sort, and when you looked at Lena again, you stared at her with baffled shock.

“What are you doing?” you demanded. Lena squared her shoulders and looked you dead in the eyes.

“I’ve figured out what happens to you when you black out.”

You were getting pissed. Her use of imprisonment on you made you incensed and you had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths. You would, at the very least, hear her out.

“What happens?”

“You become Reign.”

There was a moment of tense silence when you stared at her, and she stared right back at you. When Lena didn’t say anything, you frowned and gave her a dirty look.

“That’s not funny,” you said lowly.

“Think about it, Y/n. Every time you disappeared, she appeared and every time she disappeared, you appeared. It’s a truth that I need you to know.”

“Lena, this isn’t funny,” you said again, your voice getting louder. “I came to you for help and accusing me of being that homicidal alien maniac is the opposite of what I need.”

Lena sighed and scratched her eyebrow.

“I was there for you when Edge accused you of poisoning kids. Be there for me!”

Lena hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, where she would have to force you to see yourself in the mirror, but she was all out of options. If she wanted you to accept the truth quickly, then you would have to see it for yourself. There wasn’t another option, or at least one that wouldn’t take up so much time.

“Please forgive me, Y/n.” You just stared at her as she straightened her shoulders. Then it was like someone flipped a switch. You watched her as she turned cold, and she regarded you with a sneer.

“I’m surprised that you don’t see it, Y/n,” she spat at you. “It’s glaring at you, flashing at you like a neon sign and you refuse to accept the truth.”

“Because it isn’t real!” you countered.

“God, how naïve! You are a threat, Y/n! To all of National City, you are a menace. Don’t you realized what you’ve done? The people you’ve killed?”

You squeezed your eyes closed as you blocked out her words. No! She was wrong! Lena was lying to you. Why would she say such horrible things? Why was she treating you this way?

“You asked me for my help and here it is. You’ve hurt people, Y/n. You’ve killed innocent people! You even put Supergirl in a coma!”

The walls were closing in on you, suffocating you with a violent mixture of terror and anger. Lena’s words were hurting you. They were scaring you and they cut so deep. You would never hurt anyone, let alone kill them. How could she think that you were capable of that?

“I never should have turned to you for help!” you screamed at her. “I should have known better than to trust a Luthor!”

“People will trust in me before they trust in you,” she retorted calmly. “At least I’ve never killed anyone and enjoyed doing so. I’ve never harmed people close to me! I’m. Not. A. Monster!”

Her last few words were what did it. The anger, hate, and fear that was growing inside of you, kept swelling and swelling until it finally burst. You screamed in anguish, the cry loud as it echoed off the walls. You hated her! You hated Lena for what she was doing to you! You hated yourself for not knowing the truth! And you hated the possibility that what she was saying might be true! You hated everything! All you could do was scream and scream as your turbulent emotions consumed you. They blocked out the light. They blocked out your rational thinking, and soon there was no room to think about anything anymore.

***

Lena watched with sorrow as Reign took you over. You screamed and screamed as you shot out your heat vision erratically. Your fingers were curled into claws as you struck everything in sight. Her heart ached for you, and she hated that she put you through this, but you needed to see this with your own eyes. She knew that it wouldn’t be enough to just say that you were Reign. You had to witness it for yourself.

Lena clenched her jaw as she watched you destroy the room in a fit of rage. You crashed against the barrier as you tossed things around with ease, your cries and tears calling freely from your body.

“Video recording A-9356,” Lena whispered as she hit the record button.

***

“Y/n…?”

The voice was so far away. It was like a ghost against your eardrums, and you weren’t sure whether or not you’d actually heard it.

“Y/n?”

That one was much louder, and your eyelids snapped open immediately. You were on the ground with debris and crushed remains of the room surrounding you precariously. It was like a bomb went off in the room. Bleary eyed and confused, you sat up and wiped the drying tears on your cheeks.

“What happened?” you groaned. Lena was still there, standing with the tablet in her hands and with a pained expression on her face.

“I need to show you something.”

She touched a prompt and then a video flickered to life on the one computer monitor that you didn’t destroy. You watched a video of yourself doing things that shouldn’t be possible. Your mouth hung open in shock as you destroyed equipment with one punch or when your eyes glowed red with power. This was you, and you were raging. Anger and fury vibrated off of you and every time you roared on screen, shudders ripped from your body in spasms.

“Turn it off,” you whispered but Lena kept playing it.

You watched as heat vision shot from your eyes. You watched as you ripped whole machines apart….

You realized that you were Reign.

Lena had told you the truth. You were a monster. You were a killer, and as the video kept playing, you also realized that you were about to be sick.

“Please, Lena. Turn it off!” you begged as more tears came to your eyes. Lena switched the video off immediately and removed the barrier from your room. She was by your side, kneeling beside you as you broke down. “Oh god. All those people! I’ve killed people. I’ve…”

Your eyes grew wide as your hands started to shake. “I put Kara in a coma.”

You looked at Lena who could only stare back sadly.

“I did that. That was me! I put the love of my life in a coma! I almost killed her!”

“No, no, no!” Lena said vehemently as she interjected your downward spiral. “You are not Reign! Don’t punish yourself for things that she did.”

“Then how do you want to explain what’s been happening to me?!”

Lena couldn’t answer. How could she explain? She held you close as she stroked your cheek.

“There may not be an explanation just yet, but you came to me to fix it, okay? Let me fix it.”

Part 10

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Smut, you say 👀

You're this cute, kinda innocent woman that gets the help of this handsome gigolo to not be as... innocent.

💕 The Professional: Chapter 1 💕

Chapter Two

Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter only)

Pairing: Danma Takeru (Hatter)/Reader (she/her

Tags: flirting, suggestive conversation, alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

Notes: This is a kind-of sort-of AU—in the show, Hatter references his involvement with the host club business, and mentions that he “would do anything” to be the best. Although host clubs do not usually involve sex work (as far as I know), I believe that he would definitely offer that “off the books” in order to win over his clientele.

You’re nervous. Nervous and jittery and—oh, dear, there’s a lot of feelings going on in here, and all of them seem to fall under the umbrella of ‘mild to moderate discomfort.’ Not that feeling uncomfortable is anything new; in fact, there are very few times where you happen to feel truly comfortable outside of, say, the warmth of your bed or the soothing calm of a late-night bath. Places where you feel safe. Places where you can let yourself breathe and be, unhindered by expectation.

The place where you currently find yourself—this strange little pocket of a room in the buzz and bustle of a Friday-night Kabukicho—is full-to-bursting with expectation. From the polished wood floors to the glittering gold chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling, there is an inescapable sense of opulent whimsy that is tinged pink with a blush of sensuality. There are even fresh flowers on the table in front of you—a vase of ranunculus, blooming bright and orange like a green-stalked bunch of tiny setting suns.

Something like an itch tickles your sweat-damp palms, making you ball your hands into tight fists around the fabric of your skirt. Oh, you should have worn something different! Something sexier, maybe, with a deeper neckline and a shorter hem, that hugged the shape of your body as opposed to ghosting over it in fluttering chiffon. Not that you actually, you know, owned anything like that, but—

The pop! of a champagne cork makes you jump. Hell, you feel like you’re about to pop, too, from the nervous energy boiling and swelling in your chest. It’s so very difficult not to fidget, to keep your toes from tapping out a frantic little rhythm on the rug.

Looking back, you realize that the paperwork had been the ‘easy’ part. Not that it had been particularly easy—who knew there would be an application process for this kind of thing?—but it was less stressful to fill out a (surprisingly comprehensive) questionnaire in the privacy of your own home as opposed to this agonizing waiting.

And what, exactly, are you waiting for?

Why, you’re waiting for him.

His name is Takeru—or, at least, that’s what he’s asked you to call him. Whether or not it’s a stage name is difficult to tell; but what you do know is that it sounded so very nice in the deep clear of his voice. The only thing that sounded better was your name, which he said in a gently-sultry half-whisper that made you feel…many thing, and not all of them innocent.

In a devastatingly well-tailored suit of lipstick red—a vibrant pop of a color you would so often consider buying at the makeup counter but always put back—it’s nearly impossible to look at anything but him. A small collection of rings glisten from his fingers, most of them delicate little things that wink a tiny gleam when the light hits them just right. The dizzying black-white-gold pattern of his shirt is unbuttoned just a smidge too low, offering you a tantalizing view of his chest.

And although his back is toward you, concocting some kind of magic at the bar cart along the far wall, you can all but feel the warm-dark of his eyes on you. Oh, he has beautiful eyes, dark and warm with the glitter of laughter—or perhaps mischief, if the situation calls for it. A slim nose leads down to a shapely mouth, handsomely framed by a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.

Also, his hair—oh, that man has a great head of hair.

Aesthetics aside—he has been undeniably lovely. Slipping the coat from your shoulders when you walked into the room, fingertips skimming the slope of your shoulders with only the barest of touches. Offering you a glass of champagne (“Yes, thank you”) as he leads you to sit on the green velvet settee, hand hovering above but never touching the small of your back. A serene smile on his lips as he talks, as he tells you that your dress is lovely (“Blue is definitely your color, darling”) and letting out an airy chuckle when you mention that this was as good occasion as any to dig it out of the back of your closet.

It is impossible to ignore the way he is so very provocative—subtly so, in a way that makes you second-guess whether his flirtations had happened at all. Did his eyes really linger over the shape of your legs, or was he simply taking a moment to admire your (new, very cute) shoes? Did his fingertips slip over the curve of your shoulder as he removed your coat, or were you just imagining it?

His gaze tiptoes over your shape as he sits down beside you, two flutes of pink-tinged something in hands.

“I’ve taken the liberty of making something a little special,” he says, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as he hands you one of the glasses, “it…it looks nice.”

“Know what it is?”

“Uh,” you say after a moment of silent deliberation, “Maybe alcohol?”

He huffs a short laugh at your half-joke—a rather polite response, and it manages to soothe the bubble of regret that had risen up your throat the moment you’d said it.

“You’re not wrong. More specifically, though, it’s a Kir Royale—or, my take on one, at the very least,” he watches the bubbles fizzle to the top of the glass, “I find myself more or less incapable of keeping with convention, even when it comes to alcohol.”

“Well, uh,” you say, “it’s pretty. I like the color.”

You taste the drink, bubbles like tiny fireworks tickling over the surface of your tongue. There is a dry bitterness, no doubt from the champagne, but it’s softened by a fruity sweetness. Something familiar, something that reminds you of summer and shaved ice and walks along the river and—

“Cherry,” you say, half-lost in the hazy-warm memory of days gone by—until you remember where you are and snap back to reality, “it’s, uh, it tastes like cherries.”

“Very good. Usually, the drink calls for creme de cassis, but I used Kijafa instead. It’s a dessert wine from Denmark, made from cherries,” his brow raises just a smidge, “I thought it appropriate, given the situation.”

And it takes you a minute to understand what he’s talking about. Cherries. You. Ah. A rather crass comparison, but accurate all the same.

“Oh,” you say, picking a very uninteresting spot on the rug to look at in an attempt to avoid meeting his eyes, “I, uh…”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, “In fact, virginity isn’t even a real thing. Completely made up. Means nothing, really.”

There is a kind of lag—he’s speaking, you know he’s speaking, but it takes your brain a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s actually saying. It’s strange, hearing someone talk to you so openly about sex. Not unwelcome, by any means, but you need a moment (or two, or ten) to adjust.

“That being said,” he continues, as if he’s discussing the weather, “just because it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of life doesn’t mean it’s nothing to you.”

He’s fishing. He’s fishing, and you kind of want to take the bait, but…well, you’re finding it difficult to get your thoughts in order. He’s the very picture of calm, all while you’re floundering over a simple conversation.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “I thought you might prefer to talk it over a bit. ”

“No, uh, you’re fine,” you answer quickly, “I’m just…I thought the paperwork kind of covered all that.”

“More or less,” he answers, “however, I’ve found that the person who fills out the forms and the person who ends up sitting across from me are not always of the same mind.”

He reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette case. Although he is not gentleman enough to ask your permission to smoke, he is gentleman enough to offer you a cigarette before taking one of his own. You decline. He shrugs and quickly snaps the case shut before laying it on the table.

“In fact, it’s not uncommon for my clients to have a complete change of heart the second they walk through the door,” he continues, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Or, sometimes later on, for that matter. Depends on the person.”

Cigarette held between his teeth, he retrieves a lighter from his right trouser pocket. With a sharp little snick, he ignites it, pulling the little orange flame towards his face and hiding it behind his hand to let it catch.

“Really?”

You watch him intently, the way his eyelids flutter closed at the first inhale. The way his lips pucker around the filter and release, the red-pink sticking slightly as they pull away and let smoky white flow out and fade into the air.

“Really,” he confirms, “once, I had a client step inside, take one look at me, and promptly walk right back out. Never saw them again, which is fine. I’ll never fault someone for doing what’s right for themselves.”

“Are you, uh, trying to talk me out of it?”

“Not at all. Just making you aware of your options,” he says, “Doing anything for the first time is scary. Driving a car, swimming in the ocean, traveling abroad—sex is no different.”

“Yeah, well,” you respond, “you also get to do most of those things with your clothes on, so…”

“Depends on who you’re with.”

You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I still want to…you know,” you answer, “uh, do it. The…the sex part.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he insists, “I can’t imagine anyone being upset at the thought of having a pretty thing like you in their bed.”

“I’m not—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, taking on a tone that brokers no arguments, “I will suffer many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You are an attractive woman and I refuse to be told otherwise.”

“Sorry, I,” you say sheepishly, “I guess I just…wasn’t expecting you to…like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his cigarette and takes another long, slow drag, “You’re very sweet. A bit shy, maybe, but I happen to like the shy ones.”

And there is something about the way he says it, the way his voice wraps around the words—oh, there are implications to those words, and you find yourself growing warm at the thought of what exactly those implications could entail.

You sip your drink. He smokes. The quiet between you is almost comfortable. Maybe it’s the alcohol working it’s bubbly magic, but you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease in this strange little place.

Moreover, you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease with him. The thought of kissing him crosses your mind, then doubles-back and crosses it again. Oh, that sounds nice. He would be good at it, too; starting gently, mouth pressed soft and sure against your own, and then just the tiniest tease of his tongue—

“And there you go, biting your lip again,” he says, snapping you out of your impromptu fantasy, “You have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”

He is sporting a devilish grin—not only is he aware that you had been daydreaming about him, but he’s relishing the fact that he was able to catch you so off-guard.

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you admit with a shrug. But you can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being considered ‘sexy’—you never really let yourself feel that way, but now that it’s happening…oh, it’s nice.

“It’s absolutely delicious, darling. Makes me wonder what else you do when you’re turned on…”

And he’s got you—like a knife held under your chin, his sharp gaze pins you in place. He is impossible to avoid. Not that you particularly want to avoid him—there’s something irresistible about this man, something that you can’t quite name but definitely want more of.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

“I’m,” you say with a nervous chuckle, “not really sure, myself. Guess we’ll have to, uh, figure it out together.”

His gaze darkens. He takes one last lungful of nicotine before stubbing out his cigarette.

“I suppose we shall.”

And he’s moving now, sliding himself down so that he’s closer to you. He stops when there is barely an inch of space between the outside of his thigh and your own. His right arm has draped itself over the back of the sofa, the fingertips of his hand now skimming the skin of your shoulder in loose, mindless sweeps.

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

He plucks the champagne flute from your grasp and sets it on the table in front of you.

“I, uh—“

The fingertips on your shoulder continue to make their idle little circles, almost hypnotic in their swirling pattern. His left hand catches your right wrist, his thumb pressing above where your pulse thrums beneath sensitive skin.

“Bit fast,” he observes, pulling your arm closer as if inspecting it, “Could be nerves, but I think it’s more from excitement, don’t you?”

You have no choice but to lean into him as he brings your hand closer. Your shoulder presses against his arm, and you feel the solid shape of him through the smooth of his suit. He’s strong underneath all of those layers—warm, too, judging from the heat that radiates from his person.

“I’m—“

The thumb that had been testing your pulse inches higher, stopping when it’s pressing into the center of your palm. His eyes lock with yours, a heartbeat of a moment, and brings your wrist closer and closer until his lips are ghosting over your flesh. When he finally decides to make contact, you gasp—it’s a delicate sensation, but sends your heart skipping in a shaking staccato.

And, then.

Then he sucks.

The sound you make is halfway between an oh of surprise and a desperate little moan—oh, wow, that’s really weirdly unexpectedly hot—and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by your own reaction. He’s not even doing much, not really; just a little bit of pressure, lips parted just enough to let his tongue slip out and have a taste of you.

But, oh, it feels…it feels filthy, it feels decadent, it feels like something you should not be doing but very much want to keep doing for the rest of your life. Takeru’s eyes have since fluttered shut, and he hums the tiniest sound of pleasure as he maintains his seductive tease.

“Please,” you manage to sigh, sounding as breathless as you feel, “please, I, I want you to kiss me.”

His lips release from your wrist with a pucker-pop noise—which was no doubt intentional on his part, and does nothing to quell the thrill of desire in your belly.

“Hm. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, shifting a bit to the left so that he can turn to face you better, “I’ll kiss you for the rest of the night, but right now…you kiss me.”

And what a deal that is—you don’t even have to think about it, head bobbing in an affirmative nod as you wet your lips in anticipation. The hand that had so lovingly held yours is now guiding you to rest your palm just above his knee. You reflexively reach your other hand out to steady yourself, and it lands against his chest before you can stop it.

He’s so close now. There’s barely any space between your faces, barely room to breathe—

“Go on, darling,” he whispers, “if you want me, have me.”

And you do.

You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The anxiety that has plagued you since the moment you entered the room hasn’t completely dissipated—it would be foolish to think it’d be that easy to banish those feelings completely—but all that is now secondary to the feeling of his mouth on yours.

Kissing Takeru is warm. It’s soft and it’s sure and it’s…comfortable, in a way. Safe, even. He does not press, doesn’t do much of anything except mirror the way your lips slide against his own. A gentle rhythm, a push and pull between the two of you that feels as natural as the moon guiding the tides to shore—yes, kissing him is good and right and something you want to do many times over.

Unfortunately, you have to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t let you go far, though, one hand cupped behind the nape of your neck and the other pressing into the small of your back.

“Oh, you are sweet,” he purrs, his gaze dropping to your freshly-kissed lips, “and, seeing that I’m a man of my word…”

As it turns out, being kissed by Takeru might be better than kissing him, yourself. He is still so very careful when he presses his lips to yours, but this time…this time, there’s fire. He tastes like the best part of a cigarette, like warmth and alcohol and cherries, and it only intensifies as he tests the seam of your lips with his tongue.

Little by little, you begin to test him, too. Hands cradle the curve of his jaw, feeling the way his face shifts as he moves against you. Fingertips run through the soft dark of his hair—oh, he likes that, if the half-sigh that slips from his throat is to be believed. And when you nip at his lower lip with your teeth (he had, after all, very much enjoyed the way you bit your lip earlier), he genuinely moans and pulls you even closer to himself.

It’s when he begins to wander lower, with his mouth skimming the sensitivity of your neck and his hand splayed across your lower back in a way that flirts with the idea of indecency, that you begin to want more. Fear—and maybe that’s not exactly the right word for what you’re feeling, but it’s the only one that comes to mind—begins to creep up the column of your spine.

The “what-if’s” start filling your brain; what if you mess something up? What if you do something he doesn’t like? What if you freeze up later and—

“Alright, darling?”

His voice is a low soothe against your ear; he’s retreated, just a bit, and his hand has wandered to a chaste and respectable area of your mid-back.

“I—“

You want him to take you to bed. You want him to take off your dress and kiss you in all the places you thought weren’t worth kissing, to let his hands trace sparks along the curves of your shape and let him be close to you in a way that no one else has. You want him, despite the uncertain ache that burns between your ribs and bids you to hide yourself away and leave behind the pleasure of his touch.

…But all you can manage is a nervous glance to the bed behind you (the one you had been avoiding thinking about up until this point) and a stammered “Can we, uh…?”

“Ask me,” he says, his index and middle fingers idly skimming the notch in your collarbone, “I’ll give you anything you want, as long as you ask me.”

It’s difficult to make eye contact with him—every time you try, you feel embarrassment swell up beneath your tongue.

But Takeru is, as you have come to learn over the last hour or so, decidedly patient. He shows no sign of relenting, appearing to be perfectly content with giving you an expectant grin and continuing his little touches as you try not to squirm in your seat.

“I,” you gulp, “I want…“

You bite your lip—oh, wait, he likes that too, and he’s staring at you with those sharp and sultry eyes, and it makes something behind your heart squeeze and unsqueeze itself and punches the air from your lungs and—

“Take me to bed,” you manage to spit out, and it all sounds like one word with how quickly you pushed the words into the air. The “uh, please” you tack on at the end is an afterthought, but perhaps it’s polite enough to pass muster.

“Was that so hard,” Takeru asks with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you asked so nicely…”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss—and even that, after everything, still has you feeling a flutter of something giddy in your stomach.

“Darling,” he says, “it would be my pleasure.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

…and now, you’ll have to wait until chapter two to get to the “good stuff!”

It’s been a challenge writing this—I’m trying to make the scenario believable while still keeping it vague enough to allow for people to make up their own little details. It’s also been unexpectedly difficult to write him, since he’s kind of being himself while also playing a character who’s trying to mold themself into their client’s fantasy…it’s a lot of layers, but it’s been fun trying to figure things out!

[wastedyouth-wasteddreams]

@crazy105 - Viktor Vektor

She pressed her palm against his wrist and wrapped each finger around the underside of his arm. Sinking her fingertips into him for a reassuring squeeze, and releasing a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She could hear the hissing of the valve tucked under the monitor to her right. She could feel a soft dry breeze, just cooler than the air, that was brushing against her thigh, but she had no idea where it was coming from. She felt so vulnerable in these situations. Lay back, and practically sinking into the wide leather of the chair. It felt like it was trying to hold her, or restrain her, she couldn’t quite tell which it felt like more.

The warm metal smell in the air was one that she had come to associate with comfort when the telltale scent of sandalwood was also lingering. The sandalwood, coming directly from her left where a tall and imposing figure stood over her. From this angle he looked as wide as he was tall, his features completely shadowed by the surgical lights above him, but she could still see the Lense of his heavy glasses reflecting red as he checked over the monitors across her. A couple of satisfied grunts passed his lips as he traced the readings on screen with a gloved knuckle of his left hand.

His right arm had remained completely still since she wrapped herself around him as thoroughly as possible using the only body part she had available. He always had impeccable bedside manor she thought to herself. 

He looked to her as she lay in his chair, body tense, stare firmly fixed on the ceiling, her toes flexing toward the wall, then alternating back to the lights in nervous tension. This was not the girl that Night City knew. In fact, sometimes he got the feeling that he was the only person who got to see this side of her at all.

Her eyelids fell soft as she pursed her bottom lip up and let out another heavy breath. Her grasp on him eased and he could feel a slight tremble. He was relieved that she had loosened her fingers, as he was starting to get a little numb, but he felt an over whelming desire to comfort her when he realized the trembling was coming from her fingertips. That was new. 

“are you gonna need that arm for this?”

she could hear the smile in his voice, even though her closed eyes.

A tickle of rouge spread lightly from her temples across the top of both cheeks as her hand pulled away from him. Her head tipping back with raised eyebrows she opened her eyes, and found her gaze resting on his glasses.  He guessed her eyes had adjusted to the light, as she was fixed directly to his stare , but he hoped she wasn’t able to see the smile that had appeared out of nowhere when she blushed. That was new too. Trembling fingers, red cheeks, it was as if she was flustered.

She could feel the heat burning on her cheek bones, and she realized she had reached a new point of vulnerability in this chair. There was an unspoked rule between them that her vulnerable side never be spoken of, and knowing that she was possibly going to come off as a softie today, she had brought a bottle of his favorite whisky, to bribe him to silence. 

“lights out, kid”

She noticed a calm and softness to his voice as she felt herself drifting away. In the blackened fuzz of coming to, one side of a conversation came into hearing slowly. At first it was just a rumbled murmur, with tone inflections. She drifted again, only when she started to come to this time she caught the end of the conversation.

“well its an explanation at least”

His groaning sigh turned into a slight chuckle.

“Preem. I think she’s waking up anyhow. We’ll see you then” vik talked at the holo, and began to look over to his patient.

He walked over to her holding a chart with numbers rapidly passing back and forth. He sat next to her on his swivel chair, resting his elbows on his knees and adjusted her chair to a more upright position, removing the glare from the lights.

“So misty and Jack are heading to pick up his new chips for poker night. Apparently he bought some kind of collector set, shouldn’t be too late.”

Vik could be heard clearly now at least, even if it sounded like he was talking through a metal box.

“late?” she replied with a perplexed frown.

“ how long was I out for? I thought poker was at 9.30 tonight?”

“yea…we need to have a talk Kid”

he sat up straight and peered over the black frames that were sat a little lower on his face than usual. His eyes were a deep cyan, but with the red lenses from his glasses, they mainly looked a gray purple. It was only like this, with his eyebrows raised, and tilting toward her, that she had ever seen their true colour. Made the bollocking she was aware she was about to receive a little easier.

“firstly all of your monowire should be working smoothly now. And for the record, I was right.”

he nodded at her as if it were some kind of secret sign language for I told you so.

“ You just dislodged the casing from the inner threading, that’s why you thought your radius was twisting out in the first place” he continued.

Then there was a silence. Suddenly the noise of the machines and hum of generators became clear. He paused for a second to think of the best way to approach the subject.

“I had to scan all the way to your elbow for the calibrations you know” the inflections made itr sound more like a question than a statement.

“Vik, come on now. I have to prioritize my upgrades.” She sat up and interjected.

She knew where this was going, and it was about to become a speech. The speech about how she has to listen to her body if she expects it to live in harmony with her tech. He would explain how the extra attention means better usage. The speech would end with a reminder that he will always have an open line of credit when she needs it. To be honest it just wasn’t bad enough to come hassle Vik. Some of her joints were feeling a grind, but that happens, and eventually you just get them replaced. It didn’t seem worth the eddies and time, to spend over 5 hours in a chair just for a little ‘tune up’ that would cost, funnily enough, about the same amount as a retrofit arm and leg. She also hated going under, but didn’t like to discuss that even with herself.

She swung her leg over so her knees were facing him, and tucked them together between her hands as she leaned on the side of the chair.

He knew the speech that he was supposed to say, but he stopped himself, and spoke to her with his own vulnerability on show. He sat up and took his glasses off resting his hands on his knees. She had never seen him without his glasses on, but she realized he was about to say something that demanded she really listen.

“You know, I don’t want you coming in for the extra eddies.”

He pulled himself forward and closed the half metre gap between them. His inner knees just brushed the outside of hers as he jolted to a stop. He looked down to her knees, they looked like two tiny birds nestled together, between his dirty work pants and callused hands.

“I want you coming in because the idea of you being in pain, well. Its one of the few things that keeps me up at nights.”

She felt a sensation on her cheeks again. But instead of it burning, it felt cool. Her eyes were slowly swelling with tears and she felt a hollow lump building in her throat.

He kept his head down as he squeezed her knees inside his for a couple of seconds, he could feel her feet lifting from the ground as he tried to convey his affection using only this one gesture. His legs were so warm, and she could feel the material of her jeans coarsely tracing where their skin could have been touching. 

“Vik?” she started a sentence that she couldn’t carry.

She didn’t know what to say, and he could tell. His name came from her mouth as a whisper of air. Not wanting to be heard, but needing to be felt. 

“This is my job, Kid. And that wasn’t a normal amount of joint grind, I found corrosion in your right elbow and both your Tibia.” He offered,as a closing to her sentance.

He felt her rolling both her ankles as her eyes slowly tried to find somewhere to stare sheepishly.

“you can’t go around so reckless when I care about you….”

He put his glasses back on, and was suddenly the Dr again. He cleared his throat as he took under her chin with his index finger and raised her face until their eyes locked. She was timid looking, and her brows furrowed with a mix of confusion and shock. He gently pushed down her cheek with his thumb, which allowed the small pool of tears to race down the side of her face.

“Well…when people care about you”

He gave a nod of approval after checking her eyes. Her stomach felt like rows of velvet curtains, with a migration of butterflies flowing through. The tear that tucked under jaw was warm as it began to reach her neck, and started to feel unnaturally heavy.

“thanks for fixing me” he heard her whisper, in a slightly broken voice.

She watched her toes as she flexed and rolled her feet smoothly as when her leg implants were new.

He stood up next to her, and the reality hit him so hard, it felt like he had just taken a shot to the chest. He hadn’t allowed himself to realize what was happening, but she was slowly becoming a very important part of his life. He was thankful jackie told him to check her joints when he popped in earlier, because she obviously wasn’t going to tell him about the pain until she had to get them replaced. It actually hurt when he saw the damage, and thought about her coming in for the past month, without even a single mention. Did she think he didn’t have the time for her? Was she embarrassed about it? Maybe the eddies were too tight? It didn’t matter now. She fixed up, and he hoped the honest chat may bring her to her senses.

She jumped onto her feet to test the impact on her ankles, and he saw her lips turn up to a giddy smile.  He tucked her shoulder under his, as reached his hand around past her back to clasp the top of her arm. He pulled her into a side bear hug with a chuckle, and her head rested softly on his chest.  

“now” his voice bellowed with confidence as he pointed toward his desk 

“This whisky is the first installment of your payment Kid. Misty set up your credit earlier, but take your time. I don’t mind how many visits it takes”

[naancypants]

maybe this is perfect

Alright here is my finalized repost of the fic I accidentally published yesterday, LOL. If you enjoy, I'd love some support on Ao3 (work link is below)! I wrote this after 2x12 (+ updated to reflect news about 2x13 & 2x15, hehe) as a sort of speculative, "personal ideal" confession scene for the finale episode.

Ao3 | 2,051 words

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

"Hey," Nancy says from behind, twisting both hands around the strap of her messenger bag. "Can we talk?"

At the sound of her voice, Ace straightens from in front of his locker. He lets out a close-mouthed sigh as the question sinks into his stomach, and when he turns towards her, the discomfort she's feeling becomes evident in her body language.

"Yeah."

A beat passes where neither makes a move.

Nancy, however, is the first to take a step, drawing in a shuddering breath. "You've been avoiding me... for a while now. Ever since the whole life-and-death thing with Daniel West. And I'm sorry that I was willing to let people die to save you. I thought you would understand, that you would've done the same thing-"

"It's not about the list," Ace cuts in with a shake of his head, "That was a long time ago."

In reality it had only been a few weeks since Nancy and Grant traded a hit list to a professional killer to spare Ace's life, but time seems to move inordinately slow in Horseshoe Bay.

"I know. But that was also the same time I called in for a favor with Celia Hudson..." she allows her sentence to drift off there, urging Ace to connect the unspoken dots.

He hadn't tried to hide his feelings on the whole Celia situation, especially whenever he and Nancy talked one-on-one; yet still, her ability to pinpoint the root of behaviors she already notices in him never fails to surprise.

"I just... wish you would have consulted me before you made a deal with the devil."

Nancy recalls a talk during which she was alone with Ace, where he'd briefly confessed his dismay at her recent dealings with the Hudson matriarch.

A string of monotone words all run together as she attempts to explain, "We already went over this, Ace. I-I-I had to figure out how to save you, there was no time to consider my options."

"Maybe it wasn't worth it."

Within a second, revulsion twists every feature on Nancy's face.

"I'm sorry, what?" she demands.

Ace doesn't elaborate. Instead he lifts his raincoat from its hook and shuts the door to his locker, staring down at the garment in his hands with a shamed expression. It isn't long before Nancy has his elbow in a firm grip.

"Hey," she convinces him to whirl around and face her. "You're worth it to me."

You're always worth it to me. You're worth everything to me. A thousand times over, she wants to say. But she doesn't.

"I guess that's my problem."

"Your problem is that I care about you?"

"I don't want to be the reason you sell your soul to the Hudsons."

Nancy blinks, her ferocity weakening as she pulls away. "Aren't I allowed to make my own choices?"

"Of course. But... that doesn't mean I have to like them."

The way he says it is so casual, so lacking in venom that it makes her stomach wrench. He doesn't realize that the only approval Nancy craves is his; she is willing to stand up against even the closest of people in her life - Nick, George, her own father - but not Ace. His opinion of her serves as a compass whenever Nancy is too tired or worn down to trust her own judgment. His opinion is the one that matters most.

"Then what do you want from me? Tell me what I can do to make it better."

It's the most fragile, the most desperate she thinks she's heard herself. Nancy Drew is independent and decisive and strong. So whose voice is it that wobbles in fear, laying down her pride in the hands of another?

If there's anything Nancy can't stand, it's being clouded over with emotion, but the tightness in her throat only warns of an oncoming flood.

"Honestly, Nancy, I don't know right now. Maybe just... help me understand why before you make these kinds of decisions. I don't want you to get hurt."

Their eyes linger for what feels like an eternity, distanced by walls that neither of them know how to tear down.

When Ace moves, he turns decisively away.

Panic beginning to swell in her chest, Nancy pushes past all the other emotions running through her mind - fear, guilt, uncertainty - and takes one last step into the room before he has the chance to get away.

"I did it because I love you."

If anything could stop him cold in his tracks, it's that particular confession. His eyes meet the floor in front of him, speechless and calculating, each second ticking by in tense silence. He turns to face her once more.

There in the center of the room she stands, the bold and courageous girl detective herself, looking smaller than ever. Her voice is barely above a whisper now, eyes in danger of spilling over, "Ace... I think I might be in love with you."

Ace stands motionless in awe, save for a swallow and quick shift of his weight.

When Nancy gets nervous she often rambles to relieve some of her tension. "I didn't know how to say it before, and I- have never actually been in love so maybe I didn't even know what I was feeling until recently, but, you were with Amanda Bobbsey and not in love with me and it's all... very confusing..."

Breath leaves her lungs as quickly as words leave her tongue, anxiety shaking her down to the core. She blinks when the self-awareness sets in; lowers her gaze to the floor for a length of awkward silence.

"Nancy."

Eventually she looks back up to find him just a few feet away now, having crossed the room sometime after she finished prattling on about nothing. His raincoat hits the bench.

"There are.. a lot of reasons why I can't do this right now." He indicates himself with a curved hand to his chest.

Though her heart sinks, Nancy's eyelids still flutter. "But you- you would? Hypothetically?"

His mouth flattens into something that's not quite a smile, eyes as earnest as ever. "It's just that... y'know, Amanda's only been gone for a week. And I don't want to lose what we have - what all of us have."

"You won't," Nancy states with a furrowed brow, "Why do you think you would lose us?"

He bobs his head a bit. "Things could get complicated between us. Especially considering... things."

"What do you mean? What kind of things?"

"Well, I'm not trying to point fingers, but... there is your track record. With relationships."

It doesn't escape her attention that he refuses to make eye contact when he says the last part. She tenses up and repeats, "My track record?"

Ace opens his mouth to soften the words, but the look on his face is enough to suffice as an apology. Nancy retreats on her own as three particular guys - Ned Nickerson, Owen Marvin and Gil Bobbsey - flash through her mind's eye. Guys she had used as a distraction, a rebound, and a means of sexual gratification, all of which Ace witnessed firsthand from the sidelines.

"Yeah I deserve that, don't I," she says quietly.

"No, you don't. That part's fine. It's about everything else."

"Everything else being the Hudsons, Amanda, and losing what we have."

He offers only a nod. Draws in a breath. "Nancy, I want to love you too. And I'm not saying that I don't, but..." his voice breaks, just a bit, but enough for Nancy to notice.

"...It's not the right time," she finishes for him with a resigned nod; "yeah," under her breath.

This time it's Nancy who won't meet Ace's eyes. She darts them all across the room in avoidance, lips pursing together. "I'm- I'm sorry. This is.. not really who I am and I probably shouldn't have said anything to begin with, but-"

"No - no, don't apologize," Ace says with the usual gentle firmness and a slight tilt of his head. "I'm glad you said something. Really glad. In fact, um, if you're not opposed... there is something I wouldn't mind trying before you go off to Columbia."

"Ha. Who says I'm getting into Columbia?" she asks sardonically, crossing her arms.

Ace gives a subtle grin of support. "You'll get into Columbia."

She stops to consider his words, but then emits a soft chuckle, smiling gratefully at her best friend as though there were no mistakes, no confession of feelings, no heartbreak to contend with.

Time drags on as his vague statement from before remains unaccounted for, though almost as if pulled by gravity, there's a mutual instinct that draws them closer together.

Along with instinct, however, is hesitation - a slowness in the way they line themselves up, a caution in the way they read each others' eyes. Gradually his hands find their way to her jawline and before she knows it, in stark contrast to their prior pace, her back is up against metal with the most satisfying warmth she's ever known on her lips.

Nancy's entire body lights on fire, so much that it takes a dazed moment before she is able to react. Her eyebrows lift as she takes full advantage of the moment, kissing him back with the fervor of months worth of pent-up feelings all finally coming to surface; hands crawl upwards from his arms, to his shoulders, and eventually land on either side of his neck.

For a few rapturous seconds, they allow themselves to melt entirely into each other with the realization that things won't be like this again for a while; not until they're able to overcome the doubts, the obstacles, the emotional walls that they both know would cause more harm than good if they were to pursue this now.

Maybe this is perfect. Maybe one kiss - one blissful, ravenous taste of just what it is they're missing out on is enough to satiate their appetites for the time being and prepare them for what's to come.

With one last surge forward, hands sliding down his chest, Nancy realizes that kissing Ace never felt this good in her dreams.

Then, sooner rather than later, it's over.

Though their lips disconnect, everything else remains. A breathless minute comes and goes before either have any words to speak.

"Are you- are you sure you don't want to change your mind?" Nancy finally asks through her teeth, eyes drifting down to his mouth more than once.

A smirk tugs at his face as he steps back, hands remaining on Nancy's forearms for perhaps a touch longer than necessary. "Few more of those and I might."

Nancy gives a wistful giggle, using her shoulders to launch herself away from the lockers right when her phone buzzes.

Ace watches with curiosity as she opens her latest text notification, but waits silently to be filled in.

"It's George. She says they're waiting for us at their place," Nancy murmurs with her brow lowered, looking at Ace for a potential answer to her confusion.

Rarely one to disappoint, Ace nods in recognition. "Oh yeah, they took it upon themselves to reschedule game night. I was supposed to tell you."

Nancy raises her eyebrows in good spirit. "Ah. Well, I'm sure glad you told me in plenty of time."

"Come to think of it, Bess pretty much insisted I be the one to tell you. The whole thing must've been a ruse."

Nancy shrugs. "Eh, you know what they say. What's done is done." she waits a beat before thumbing towards the back door over her shoulder. "Join me?"

"Yeah," Ace agrees as he grabs his raincoat and the pair start walking out. "Yeah but I have to warn you, none of what just transpired is going to have any affect on how badly I demolish you in Absurd Code Word."

"Wow, Ace, I think you're underestimating my game night abilities. Have you ever seen me in Absurd Code Word?"

"Don't need to."

"I see. Is it because I'm a girl?"

"C'mon, Nancy. You know me better than that."

The ease with which they're able to shift gears serves as a delicate reminder of how intrinsically they are connected; of the level of comfort and stability within their potential when the time is right.

Whenever that may be.

[duskholland]

Say Goodnight | Harrison Osterfield

Summary ↠ you and Harrison broke up before he left to chase his dreams in Hollywood. With 5,000 miles between you, you’re both struggling to adjust to life without the other; exes to lovers; prompt: “why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

Warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, a breakup, one curse word?

Word Count ↠ 2.7k

A/N ↠ I miss Harrison. A lot. And I haven’t written enough for him, so...here ya go! This is definitely inspired by Ariana Grande’s song goodnight n go, which never fails to hit me in the feels (listen to the version from her live album... it’s magic).

This is also my fic for @t-holland2080​‘s writing challenge! Thanks so much for hosting such a fun challenge Sammy - I hope you enjoy this :)

(a repost because tumblr decided to block me out the tags lmao)

You didn’t think it was possible to cry this much.

Harrison’s standing in front of you, glistening tear tracks running down his rosy cheeks. His eyes shift over your face, guiltily running the lines and curves of your cheeks and your forehead, trying desperately to stay away from your eyes, because you both know that seeing the heartbreak reflected in his icy blue gaze will be too much. Your chest hurts and you’re shaking, but you know that everything he’s said is true. You know that breaking up is for the best.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I still love you,” Harrison tells you quietly. He rocks back on his feet, his teeth grazing his lower lip before he adds, “I’ll always love you, Y/N. The timing just…”

“The timing isn’t right,” you finish. With shaky hands, you reach up behind your neck and your fingers fiddle with the clasp of the necklace Harrison had draped around you, all those months ago. He makes a small sound of objection as the chain falls heavily into your hands and you hold it out in front of you. “Keep it,” you urge. You finally let yourself meet his eyes, and you try to stay strong as you grab his hand and push the chain into his palm. “So you don’t forget about me whilst you’re off being a movie star.”

Harrison reluctantly pockets the chain, his eyes lingering on the solid curve of the H. “I could never forget about you, Y/N.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only way Harrison can pursue his dreams is 5,000 miles away, across the Atlantic in America. It’s even more unfair that you can’t go with him because you’re enrolled in university in London. But worst of all, neither of you signed up for a long-distance relationship when you first began dating, and now you’ve had to come to the mutual, heartbreaking decision that breaking up is going to be easier than stringing out a virtual relationship together. It doesn’t matter that you love Harrison more than you’ve ever loved another person, nor that he holds you so closely to his heart that he’s certain you’ve somehow intertwined yourself with his soul: long-distance is too much, and you both think you’ll be too busy to maintain your relationship. Neither of you want to sit by and watch your relationship break down.

So breaking up is simpler, supposedly.

“You should go,” you find yourself saying, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your hand rests on your front door knob, the cool brass feeling icy against your warm skin. You use your other hand to sweep beneath your cheeks, trying to stop the endless flow of tears from your eyes. “Don’t want you to miss your flight, Haz.”

He runs his hand through his hair, a grimace spread across his face.

“I- Are you sure this is the right choice?” He asks, echoing the words you’ve both been saying for days.

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know,” you admit. “But I know that I can’t stand here waiting for you to walk away any longer.” You release a deep breath. “Just go, Harrison. Please.”

And he looks like he really wants to stay. His feet twitch, as if he’s about to push his way back into your flat and throw himself down on the sofa like he’s done a thousand times before. But his eyes pass over your tearful, heart stricken face, and he finally sighs, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he manages a weak smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says softly, his lips curving around the words with ease. The way he says your name so fondly causes the pain in your chest to crack and expand.

“Bye, Harrison.”

And then he turns, slowly, and you watch as he drags his feet down the corridor. Harrison pauses when he reaches the staircase, one hand on the door as he casts his eyes back towards you. Your mouth twitches into a smile instinctively: the sight of his face, his loose blond curls, and his friendly smile never fails to make you feel warmer - even now, as he walks out of your life, taking a piece of your heart with him.

You raise your hand in a final wave, and then Harrison steels himself and walks through the door at the end of the corridor, leaving you standing alone in your doorway, a lump in your throat and a weight hanging so heavily in your heart that you know you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

[-----]

Life without Harrison is hard.

Before you’d started dating him a year ago, you hadn’t believed love could feel so fulfilling or right. But then you’d stumbled into him at Tom’s birthday party and you’d immediately hit it off, and everything had changed. You think it would be hard not to instantly fall in love with Harrison: he’s charming, witty, and he carries such a bright light in his eyes that he had you hook, line, and sinker within the first ten minutes of your conversation.

As you try to move on, you find Harrison haunting your every move. You open Instagram and you see his posts and stories staring you right in the face, broadcasting his life out in LA with his new friends and castmates, and it stings. When you strike out and find yourself in the pub with Sam, all you can think about is how you used to frequent the place with him, and your eyes find the corner booth you’d used to sit in, your figure usually curled up in Harrison’s lap. You can almost feel the presence of his slender, delicate fingers wrapped around your waist as you gaze longingly at the booth.

And the most frustrating part of it all? Harrison seems fine. He seems completely unbothered, which just serves to twist the knife further into your chest every time your thumb hovers over his contact photo, or you start writing out a lengthy, emotional text. You’ve heard nothing from him, and it makes you question everything you’d thought you’d had together.

Everything changes one Wednesday night, around six weeks after Harrison had left.

You’re woken up by the loud, shrill ringing of your phone. You try to ignore it at first, groaning as you roll over on your side and try to press your head into your pillows, but it just keeps going, and it seems to rattle louder against your skull the longer it prattles on. So, after releasing a stream of your best expletives, you roll over and snatch it off your bedside table, accepting the call before you’ve even had time to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” You croak, clearing your throat immediately as you hear the fatigue hanging heavy in your throat.

“Y/N.”

Suddenly you’re wide awake.

“Harrison?!” You exclaim, sitting bolt upright. You bring your knees to your chest as you pull the duvet around you, trying to hide beneath the warm sheets as if they’ll protect you from the way that hearing his voice unleashes an onslaught of painful emotions. “What’s going on?”

Harrison doesn’t reply for a few moments, but merely the sound of his level, familiar breathing is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to push them away as your heart races in your chest, so many emotions flying through your heart that it feels consuming.

“Uh, nothing,” he eventually says softly. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

The sound of his chuckle is forced, but it’s so lovely to hear him again that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Oh, I didn’t realise it was so late,” he says, “‘m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. I missed your voice.” It slips out before you can really stop it.

“I missed your voice too,” Harrison admits, voice thick. “I miss you so much, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply, running your fingers over the crinkles of your duvet as you think. Your mind runs slowly, clouded with your fatigue and your emotions, and you really don’t know how to take this all, but you know that hearing his voice makes you happy - more happy than you’ve felt in weeks.

“I miss you too,” you mumble down the line. Your fingers ache from how tightly you’re gripping the phone. “How’s LA?”

Harrison chuckles, and you hear a noise in the background as if he’s climbing into a bed. You can almost imagine him: his lanky legs spreading out over the sheets, a low groan slipping past his lips as he stretches out his arms and back. That lazy pink smirk hanging freely from his perfect lips. The image burns into your eyelids.

“LA is mad,” he tells you honestly. “It’s a whole different world over here, Y/N. It’s… It’s exciting, but it’s so different to London. I wish it would all slow down.”

“You’re really busy then?”

He hums lightly. “Yeah. I’m either on-set or doing fittings or rehearsals.”

“Are you having fun?”

Harrison takes a while to ponder your question.

“Yes,” he says, bringing a swell of tears to the front of your eyes. “But I’d be so much happier if you were here too.”

You try to disguise your sniffles, but you’re almost certain he can hear them. “Well… I’m not,” you manage. “I’m glad it’s giving you everything you wanted.”

There’s a very awkward, very thick silence that envelops the line, and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your sheets.

“I should let you sleep,” Harrison says, guilt lacing his words. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oh, okay.” Your free hand clenches into a hard fist as you try to stop your lower lip from wobbling. “Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m always here if you want someone to talk to.” A small smile flicks out across your lips. “Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I love you - those three unspoken words hang between you. You can feel them, surrounding you, smothering you, and you can almost hear them on the tip of Harrison’s tongue, so you jump in to add, “Goodnight, Harrison,” because you really can’t bear to hear them.

You can feel his reluctance, but you release a deep breath as he says, begrudgingly, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hang up quickly, your fingers trembling as you toss the phone down the bed. The blank screen stares at you, taunting you, and you’re overcome with such a strong sense of regret that you almost reach out and call him back. Your body craves him - his soft, melodic voice, his gentle words, his love.

Your phone starts ringing, and you snatch it back up, eyes taking in the image of Harrison’s contact photo as he flashes over the screen. You accept it without a second thought.

“I don’t want to say goodnight yet,” Harrison says immediately, words falling into one another. “I don’t want to stop talking to you, Y/N. Can we please keep talking? Just for a bit.” He pauses, his voice breaking. “I miss you.”

The relieved smile on your face shows no sign of budging. “I don’t wanna say goodnight either, Haz.”

[-----]

It’s a bad habit, but for the entire time Harrison is away, you end up on the phone with him each evening. The first few times had been fairly spontaneous, but soon it becomes a habit: every day, as Harrison finishes filming, he gives you a call and you have a long, rambling conversation. It breaks up your sleep, but you grow so used to it that you start setting an alarm at 1.50am just so you can grab a cup of tea and wake yourself up before he calls.

It’s definitely inadvisable to stay so connected to your ex-boyfriend, but it feels too good to quit. Harrison is your drug, and every time you hang up the phone, you’re left feeling sad and hollow inside. But it eases the pain of having him so far away, and maybe a part of you deludes yourself by reasoning that your calls are helping you get over him: cutting him out completely was too hard, but maybe sharing these phone calls will help you. Eventually he’ll stop calling, and you’ll be able to heal, because you’ll have practised saying goodbye so many times it’ll feel normal.

But Harrison doesn’t stop calling, and you don’t stop answering, and soon enough, he’s been away for six months, and he’s preparing to move back to London, his film complete.

You don’t really know where you stand with him, if you’re being completely honest. He’s still your ex - but you’re still helplessly in love with him, and you’re fairly sure that most exes don’t spend hours on the phone each day, chatting and laughing like you’re still together. You try to bring it up with him, but every time you start the conversation, your heart clenches in your chest and you wimp out.

You ignore the difficult conversation for as long as you can - which lasts until you hear a loud knock on your front door, and you know that it’s him.

It feels almost like a gravitational pull, drawing you back to his figure. You’ve spent all day pacing your flat, fussing over your hair and your outfit, but for the entire time you’ve spent waiting on his flight arriving, you haven’t been sure if you’d be able to open the door and face him. But now you know that he’s here, your heart seems to act of your own accord.

You wrench your door open, and immediately you’re pulled into a tight, crushing hug. It knocks the air out of your lungs and you wheeze as you feel that familiar set of curls brushing up against your neck, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes as you take it all in. He’s back.

“Haz,” you exclaim, your voice choked with tears. His hands move over your back, clinging to you, drawing you as close as possible as his rich, earthy cologne invades your system. It doesn’t even matter that his jacket has a collection of chilly raindrops clinging to the leather, because it feels so fucking perfect to have him so near you again that you can’t focus on anything other than him.

“I missed you,” he whimpers, as he pulls away from your neck. His large hands fall on your shoulders as he stares at you intently, his focused eyes whipping the air from your lungs. He looks so cute that you can’t really stop yourself from shifting closer and pressing your lips to his. Immediately you relax, and he does too, and he kisses you back softly. Your mouths are tender at first, pressing together softly - testingly - but as you wrap your hands around his waist and bring him closer, it deepens. Your mind spins with dizzy, overwhelming happiness as you revel in the feeling of Harrison, enjoying him utterly, your heart thrumming happily against your ribs.

“I missed you so much,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him between each word. Your fingers drift into his hair, and you smile as he hums in agreement.

“We are so stupid,” he says, drawing a laugh from your lips. “Can’t believe we ever thought breaking up was for the best.” His mouth shifts up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I love you so much, Y/N. Please, can we get back together?” His words are desperate, but they echo the things you’ve been feeling for months, and hearing them is such a relief that you simply have to kiss him again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whisper, moving to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Harrison brings you into a warm hug, and you let him hold you as you breathe him in. “I missed you. I love you.” You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes gleefully. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”

Harrison reaches down and pulls a familiar, glinting chain from his pocket. Your gaze softens as you pull away from him and tilt your head, letting him wrap the necklace back around your neck. The H pendant settles gently over your chest, and it feels like coming home.

“Perfect,” he comments, and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the necklace, but you’re willing to accept either.

With a warm smile on your face, you move aside and welcome him inside. “D’you want a cup of tea?” You offer.

Harrison steps across the threshold and presses a final, loving kiss to your lips. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

----

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[whump-town]

The Unforgiving Tide

Today I got my first dose of the Covid vaccine so to celebrate I wrote Mortch h/c because I love it and I can't help it. It's also centered around one of my favorites-- Route 66 so enjoy the pain assholes

No warnings or anything just the normal stuff

Derek Morgan knows one thing for certain and that is that there is absolutely no way that anything about love is a choice. The absolute light of his life, the person who puts a pep in his step and gets him through the day is Penelope Garcia and that is who he would choose. Day in and day out, it is Penelope and he loves her to the ends of the Earth but love, as Derek has come to understand it, is very much so not about choices. Rarely is it ever the easiest and that’s, of course, the option Derek has been given. Because while Penelope fancies the worst type of men and the prettiest women Derek gets her polar opposite.

Which is strange because he knows he’s heard somewhere that love like his balances out in some ways-- that Aaron and Penelope should have more in common. But Aaron looks like if the Grim Reaper walked among them and Penelope as if one person could harness all that is the rainbow. Well… maybe that’s only for straight people and those not screwed by life into falling in love with brooding, silent idiots like Aaron Hotchner.

None of them say it, and he’s acutely aware that he’s mostly the reason why, but it feels strange without Hotch here with them. Dave unflinchingly keeps them moving on, doesn’t push at Derek’s coiling rattlesnake of a mood, but he keeps them in motion. The others need it because this is the part of the job that they stumble over. The part that requires they leave certain things behind. Today it’s Hotch not even an hour after seeing his limp form moved from the conference floor onto a stretcher. When they’d watched for seven and a half minutes as he lay on the floor unresponsive. Deaf to Dave frantically calling out his name, to JJ trying to squeeze his hand to make his fingers curl back around hers.

Derek had sat on the plane looking at all the signs he’d managed to miss. The WebMD page pulled up on his screen so he could flick back and forth between his messages with Aaron and the symptoms listed out on the page. Felt his stomach churn as each symptom made its way into their conversations from the week. How Aaron had known something was wrong but Derek hadn’t, he wasn’t even concerned. He’d let Aaron turn food away and didn’t press on that like he should have. Aaron had told him his blood pressure was low, anxiously rubbing at his fingers and his voice going breathless with his struggle to admit that. Derek had… He’s become blind to the countless, never-ending problems with Aaron’s body and now Aaron’s having emergency surgery for something Derek should have seen. Alone in Virginia while Derek hunts down some girl who likely doesn’t want to be found.

Because Derek hadn’t seen.

He hadn’t known.

“He’ll be okay,” JJ whispers, squeezing his fingers the same way she had Aaron’s. He looks down at their joined hands, hears Dave calling out for Aaron again. Hears the silence of his own thoughts, remembers that he’d just stood there. Maybe the problem isn’t Aaron at all…

Somehow he ends up angry, not at himself, but at Aaron. The doctors are always warning him about things like this. Dips or rises in his blood pressure are detrimental to his body, he can’t regulate his body temperature like a normal person. He has to have so much caloric intake daily. When he doesn’t meet that level he’s playing a very dangerous game with his body. Throw in the anticoagulants that he takes, the Lexapro, the steroids that bombard his body to fight off the arthritis swelling in his right hand. There are so many more and Derek can’t even begin to name them, Aaron can’t either. If he misses a dose their day crashes to the ground.

He needs that medicine to survive and Derek doesn’t need to be told that somewhere along the line this can be accounted for. That he’ll find one too many of something in one of those prescription bottles pushing the cabinet’s ability to stay closed. A doctor’s going to tell him Aaron’s weight has dropped again and they’ll probably put him on some special diet that makes him miserable. Have him choking down thick smoothies choked full of spinach and vitamins and some special blend of chalk.

Where was Derek?

He’s in the kitchen with Aaron, they eat ⅔ of their meals together. Derek checks these things so how did it slip by him? How did he miss something so in his face?

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

Time is very warped but he knows the intensity of the pain eating up his body. Overwhelming heat spreading through him, breaking his skin out in a cold sweat that leaves him shivering and moving wounds that he can’t see but he can most certainly feel. His dry lips part and he grunts, eyelids too heavy to do more than flutter but he can see the blurred outline of someone by his side. Can track pale flesh to where it’s connected to his own.

“Hotch?” a cold hand presses to his face, a finger brushing through a tear that slides down his cheek. “You’re okay.”

That’s not really the question, not the most pressing thing on his mind. Memories tangle in his poor understanding of past and present. Tasers and gunshots and stabbings-- he can’t discern what has happened with what already did. Bits of tragedies creating a confusing web he finds himself ensnared in.

He sees blonde hair, feels those cold fingers ghosting along his skin. “Garcia?” he asks because he needs one solid piece of truth to hold onto. “What happened?” She won’t lie to him, he trusts this blindly. There’s something about the two of them, with or without Derek in the equation, that draws them to one another. A safety he finds in all her brightness, like turning your face to the sun and he is everything that she is not but there is always safety in his shadows. A place she can tuck herself into to escape being known for just a moment and just be.

She squeezes his fingers, bringing feeling to them. The movement is something to focus on, something real where only hazy snippets have made themselves known. “I don’t--” she’s uncertain if she’s allowed to tell him. The risk of upsetting him far larger than her want to please him by telling him. “Everyone’s ok. We’re all okay.”

His hum of understanding comes delayed, his presence of mind slipping. He wants to press on, ask more questions, and know exactly what she means by everyone and what “okay” constitutes. Not because he doesn’t necessarily trust her but because he isn’t sure how many people is everyone. Jack? Did he hurt his own son? Is Emily here? Did he hurt her? What about Dave? He feels distanced from Dave but he won’t forgive himself if he hurt the other man. And what of Derek? Oh… Derek, would she really tell him if he were hurt?

She presses her palm to his forehead, working her fingers through his soft hair. Smiling when he turns into her, closing his mouth and giving in. Stopping this futile fight. “Just rest,” she assures him. “You’re okay.” He thinks, passively as she presses a kiss to his temple and tugs the blankets closer to his chest, that she’s being too tender. Too nice. He hasn’t got the proof just yet but he’s too tired to push for more.

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

Derek goes home as soon as they land in Virginia, he can feel their eyes on his back as he moves to his car without comment. They got Samantha Wilcox and now his job is done, nothing he does anymore has to be something that they see and he cherishes the thirty minutes it’s going to take to get home. Thirty whole minutes to do what he needs to. Cry or scream or punch something and all without Spencer’s sad eyes following him or JJ trying to be supportive. He just wants to feel unabashed and freely, without consequence.

He turns the volume of his CD up, tears form and the last thing he wants to hear are his own sobs. He’s not focused on the music, he just needs something loud and distracting to get him home. The CD starts to play and quickly, harder than what’s necessary he turns it off. It’s Aaron’s and angry tears that he can’t blink away swell in his eyes as he thinks about how much he hates the song “Back In the USSR”. It’s just bad music but Aaron loves it.

And he’s back to thinking about reality and not this bubble of nothing he’s trying to convince himself he has. Aaron’s go-bag is with Penelope but there are other things that he needs that won’t be in there. Derek realizes that he has no idea if the hospital will need Aaron’s other prescriptions or just what all he should bring to the hospital. He really doesn’t know anything at all but home is safe and it’s not the hospital so heads there.

He grabs what he knows Aaron will want.

Aaron’s worn copy of Anna Karenina is sitting on his nightstand, his reading glasses on Derek’s. They once had a case to go in but Derek doesn’t waste time looking for that, just tucks one of the sides into his shirt. He goes to his own dresser and pulls out a flannel. Aaron has plenty of his own, and ones that fit those abnormally long arms of his, but he’ll prefer this one nonetheless. Not that it’s special, it’s just Derek’s. There are other, nonessential, things that he grabs mindlessly trying to think about those stupid lists Aaron’s always making for this exact case scenario but he can’t remember everything.

Derek grows flustered and with a thick sigh, tears swelling in his eyes, he throws himself across their bed. His chest hitches and he moves until his face is in Aaron’s pillow, breathing in that distinct smell of his soap and detergent. This is his fault, isn’t it? He can’t begin to think about how many times Dave warned him something like this would happen. That loving Aaron means things like this and watching his back. That this isn’t fieldwork and he can’t let his guard down the second he thinks the dangers over. And he’d promised Emily when she left he could handle it. He loves Aaron so it shouldn’t be that hard and she’d smiled so sadly when he said that and now he wishes he hadn’t understood why.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he has half a mind to ignore it. Whatever it is can wait but he doesn’t want to miss anything with Aaron. “Hello?” half his face is still pushed into the bed.

There’s a crackle over the phone, something being moved and Penelope’s voice just slightly distanced. He’s just about to speak again when the sound gets clear. “Sorry!” she offers. “Hotch looked cold so I was fighting the blanket monsters in the closet to save him!” She sounds just breathless enough that he can imagine her standing on her tiptoes trying to fight down a blanket from somewhere too high.

He knows there’s no way Aaron asked for a blanket. “How is he?” Derek asks softly.

Penelope sits herself down in the visitor’s chair and looks over at Hotch. He’s sleeping, hasn’t so much as moved a muscle since he woke up. “Confused,” she sighs. She’s not really sure if he had looked cold but she can’t stand just sitting here and watching so she had to do something and besides, Hotch is always cold.

Derek hums.

“Are you coming?”

The others are all probably there already. He knows he’ll use this trip home as his excuse but he could have asked any one of them to collect these things. They wouldn’t even need him to tell them where things are, wouldn’t even need to be told which things to get. He’s just stalling and he knows it. “Yeah,” he pulls Aaron’s pillow close. Wrapping his arms around it like it’s the body of the man he wishes so badly were here right now. Then Derek could think about something else-- the way Aaron’s legs get tangled in the bedsheets or the fact that he drools when he’s sleeping really, really good.

But Aaron isn’t here.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.”

He’s met with tears. Spencer stands before him, shaking the limb of a tree in the wind of a great storm. The kind that would wake Aaron in the middle of the night, enticing him with the sharp whipping sounds and the crashing of distant trash cans. Forcing Derek to wake up shivering, wondering where Aaron’s dragged himself off to. He’s fairly certain he no longer knows how to sleep without Aaron there-- without the feeling of his comfortable weight settled against his hips. Aaron always sleeps so close to him, never more than an arm’s length away.

The tears that hit Spencer’s cheeks are like the fat drops that ping off the windows. The harder ones always startling Aaron until he can self-consciously glance at Derek and see if he noticed. He always does. Spencer pulls his mouth open, moving his jaw like the hinges of an old front door.

“Is he dead?” Derek doesn’t feel up for waiting for all the foolishness of whatever nonsense Spencer’s come up with. Whatever it is that he’s gearing up for can wait, Derek only cares about one thing.

Reid glances to the floor, “I-- I-- He’s, ugh, Garcia’s still back with him.”

Good. Derek squeezes Spencer’s shoulder as he passes but doesn’t say anything. Spencer doesn’t do well with this business, the realization that the people he loves crack. They stumble and they fall and they get hurt and Derek doesn’t feel like lying. Because Aaron is like this a lot and Spencer won’t believe him anyway.

He passes Dave and he gets a good supportive nod. “I called Emily,” Dave tells him. “I think she’d appreciate it if you called her back later.”

Derek nods his head, she’ll likely want to speak to Aaron. He can already hear that argument but it’ll be good for someone to be angry with Aaron. God knows Emily won’t be pleased. It’ll give Aaron something to focus on, an argument to win while everything else falls in around him. Because he already knows Emily’s going to threaten to come home but Aaron won’t let her. Derek smiles as he thinks about that, she’ll wait a week he already knows. In a week she’ll be down here and she’ll be met with one of Aaron’s tired sighs while she vehemently denies she came home to make sure he was really okay.

Derek doesn’t understand why they can’t just say express worry like other people.

Penelope greets him with a tight hug as if she’s squeezing all the bad feelings away. He lets her try but she pulls away and knows she was unsuccessful. “He’s been very well behaved,” Penelope tells him brightly. As if they’re talking about Derek’s mischievous toddler. “Almost… snugly.” He’d let her hold his hand, turning himself in towards the comforting hand she’d placed against his cheek. No one else’s definition of warm but for Hotch that’s… it’s pretty snugly.

“Mmm,” Derek knows he’ll get the moody, if not clingy bits of Aaron but he’ll be okay. “Thank you,” he tells her sincerely, squeezing her hands and sinking into the hug she wraps him into. “He doesn’t like--” he can’t get the rest of the words out, choking on tears. Aaron hates waking up in the hospital. Derek’s seen it enough to know. It’s too disorienting but a familiar face always helps.

Penelope nods, squeezing him. “I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

With a nod, Derek pulls away and he wipes his eyes. Tries to pull himself together but he’s been too angry all day, too on edge to really clean up.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Penelope says, her bags collected as she’s stepping out.

Derek can only hope that’s true.

He settles down in the visitor’s chair and frowns when he sees how swollen Aaron’s right hand is. He finds the grooves of the joint easily, rubbing at the boney digits mindlessly as he searches the bed for the TV remote. There’s got to be something on the TV. It’s not football season anymore but baseball is on and that’s the best sport according to Aaron. Derek wonders how he ended up with someone who hates watching sports so much but that can make things interesting. But baseball… Aaron hates everything else but won’t complain when Derek puts on baseball of all things.

Aaron makes a soft crackling sound as he wakes, turning his head from Derek, and grunting a half whimper when he can’t pull his hand away from Derek’s hold. He pries his eyes open, mouth too dry to form full words but the sound of his lips touching sounds just enough like Derek’s name for him to smile up at Aaron. His eyes close again, pinched with the pain rolling through his chest and the agitated flames licking at the joints of his right hand. The latter of which Derek is not helping as he rotates his thumb over the swollen skin, digging into hurt like he’s trying to draw blood.

Tenderly, Derek moves Aaron’s fingers to the bed, standing with a groan of his own when the small of his back lights up like timber as he stretches out. He smiles when he sees Aaron’s hazily drugged gaze go right to where his shirt rides up over his hips and blushes furiously when he’s caught. Derek hums to himself, shaking his head but smiling all the same. It’s cute, he thinks as he pours Aaron a cup of water. Very cute, he decides when he finds that the blush hasn’t crept away when he turns back to him.

“Small sips,” Derek directs softly, holding the straw to Aaron’s lips.

The first sip hurts, burns his sensitive throat as it goes down but it creates an insatiable thirst. He greedily pulls at the straw for more until Derek pulls it away from him. If Derek could have it his way, he’d never tell Aaron no but too much water will make him sick. While Aaron looks at him now as if a victim of something truly heinous, he’ll be thankful when he has nothing in his system to throw up when the anesthesia wrecks his stomach.

Derek sits back down and picks Aaron’s hand back up, eyes flicking to Aaron’s when he whimpers at just the gentle touch. Without a word, Derek resumes his rubbing to try and soothe the joints of his hand into some sort of reprise in normal hood. But Aaron’s exhausted and confused, nearly overwhelmed by the drugs and Derek and the weight of his chest, and he whimpers. Tries to pull away again because all he knows is that touching hurts and can’t fathom that it is so much worse when Derek doesn’t wring the pain out.

“Ouch,” Aaron croaks, breathlessly grunting and trying to move his fingers. It’s as pins have been set in the bones and he cries out at this new overwhelming pain. “Please,” he asks Derek, “stop it. Hurts.”

Derek shushes him softly, pouring his attention into willing Aaron’s pain into submission. “You’re okay,” Derek promises. “You’re okay.” But his words do nothing to stop the pain and Aaron just looks back at him. Sad, pained eyes darting over Derek’s face. “It’s okay, Aaron.”

Aaron turns his head, gasping slightly at the way it pulls at the stitches. “Sorry,” he whispers. Looking up at Derek and searching Derek’s face for some inclination of truth. Of what’s happening but he’s certain there’s something to be sorry for. There’s no way he hasn’t done something he shouldn’t have. Pushed something or forgotten it.

Derek wipes the single tear that falls down Aaron’s cheek away with his thumb. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Derek soothes. “You’re okay.” That seems to work in some small way, Aaron swallowing thickly but not dragging his tired eyes away from Derek’s. Slowly he combs his fingers through Aaron’s hair, pushing back the long strands. With a smirk, seeing the blissed eased way Aaron has fallen back into the pillow at his touch alone, he feels a spark of mischief hit him. He can’t help but smile. “Emily is going to call you later,” he whispers, smiling brighter when Aaron groans. Pinching his face up. Derek rolls his eyes, “you love her.”

Aaron cracks an eye open, setting a drugged sort of haze scowl onto him. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” With a shake of his head, he knows his Aaron’s back, just a grumpy little glimpse but he’s there. Fighting his way through the drugs. “I mean it,” Aaron grumbles. The last thing he needs is Emily getting the idea that he might actually cherish her friendship.

Derek does roll his eyes this time, “if you behave you can buy my silence.”

Aaron cracks an eye open but doesn’t complain. Derek’s going to tell Dave anyhow so it doesn’t matter if Aaron does behave, even though Derek knows he won’t, Emily will hear it. He might even sprinkle something else in there as payback. That what he gets, serves him right for scaring Derek like that. Derek is really going to enjoy watching Aaron get himself out of this hole but for now…

He squeezes Aaron’s wrist, smiling when Aaron turns his head towards him humming just under his breath. “I love you,” Derek confesses softly and it’s rare that he gets a verbal reply but he’s learned to lean into the numerous ways Aaron knows how to say it. And today he doesn’t hear the words back but tomorrow he’ll find a popsicle or a jello cup waiting for him. Aaron’s grumpy scowl lightening when he steps into the room. And Derek will know that Aaron loves him too.

[gumnut-logic]

“Hold still.”

“’irg’l, ‘m fine!”

“You’re not fine! Hold still!”

“’S only a bl’d nose.”

“I need to check it anyway. I hit you hard.”

“Lucky sh’t.”

“Hold still!”

Gordon let his shoulders drop and held still. Virgil was beside himself over this. It was obvious. It was only a blood nose, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like it was his first.

The scanner’s yellow light flickered over him and Gordon flinched. So damned bright.

Of course, this just set off Virgil even more. “We’re going to the infirmary.”

“’irg-“

“Now.”

Okay, that was an elder brother command. Gordon wasn’t stupid enough to disobey that. His shoulders dropped just that bit lower and Virgil’s gentle hand wrapped around his arm and led him from the gym.

“I’m sorry, Gords.” It was said with so much guilt, Gordon rolled his eyes.

Ow.

The hand on his arm tightened.

It was a lucky shot. There was no way in hell Virgil could best him in hand to hand. If Virgil pinned him, maybe. He had the mass and the strength. But Gordon was fast and his smaller stature a major advantage. His big brother couldn’t catch him on the best of days.

Except for today, apparently.

The infirmary loomed as they exited the elevator. It did that. Gordon hated any medical setting…for good reason…and the infirmary on the Island was no exception.

He was deposited on the bed with a firm but gentle nudge, told to sit upright and to tip his head forward.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew the treatment for a nosebleed.

Blood tasted awful.

He closed his eyes a moment.

A soft touch to his face and blood was dabbed off his skin. A quiet rumble of query.

It repeated and a frown formed in the air.

A hand on his shoulder. “Gords?”

“Hmm?”

Ow. Virgil’s fist had definitely left a mark on his sinuses.

“You with me, Gordon?”

“Mmmmhmm.”

A rustle of instruments and a finger peeled back his right eyelid. A sharp flicker of light hit his retina and he flinched away. “’irg!”

“Hold still.” Strong hands made him do exactly that.

His reward was another finger peeling back his other eyelid and that retina being equally assaulted.

“’irg!” He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as that caused his whole face to echo the pain in his nose.

Virgil didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go of the now firm grip he had on Gordon’s shoulder. A hum started up and Gordon let a breath out as the scanner flickered over him again. “’irg’l, ‘m fine!”

His brother still didn’t answer, but the bed under him shifted, its head rising under his right hand.

“Lie down.”

“’irg-“

“Lie down.” Okay, there was something in his brother’s voice that bore no argument. Gordon opened his eyes and found worry in his brother’s.

Those brown eyes blurred a little.

What?

He dragged his feet up onto the bed, his exercise sweat pants riding up above his bare feet. A shuffle and he had to admit it was a relief to have the back support, top half of the bed up as far as it would go. His head was throbbing. He must remember not to try and stop Virgil’s fist with his face ever again.

As to why his brother had managed to even touch him was a worry in itself. Virgil was good, but he wasn’t that good. Gordon had been dancing around him for years. As his co-pilot, Gordon saw it as part of his duties to help his brother with his hand-to-hand. Of course, between himself and Kayo, they helped all the brothers, even Scott who had his fair share of training in the Air Force. But Gordon had always had a special thought for Virgil. His brother was a wall of muscle, ‘built like a brick shithouse’ was the popular phrase. But muscle didn’t necessarily equate to good self-defence and Virgil was a softy from way back. There had been incidents with the occasional over zealous fan, but also one of Gordon’s nightmares was what would happen if someone with less kind intentions got a hold of any of his brothers.

Virgil was too damned nice for his own good.

So, Gordon took it on to look after him.

But today…why had he let Virgil hit him?

“What happened?” The deep voice of his eldest brother and Gordon realised his eyes had slipped closed again. Opening them was a mistake. The lighting in the room had apparently taken on nuclear fusion in an attempt to compete with the sun.

He groaned and shoved his eyes closed again.

“Gordon?” Virgil’s hand landed on his arm.

“You suck.”

“And you’ve got a concussion. I’m sorry, Gordon.”

What?

“Report, Virgil.” Great, the Commander was out which meant Scott was upset. It was only a bloody nose, for goodness sake.

Virgil’s sigh was a mix of worry and regret. “My fault. I hit him.”

There was silence for a moment. All Gordon could hear was his heartbeat in his sinuses.

“You hit Gordon?” Gordon should be proud at the amount of disbelief in his eldest brother’s voice. Or worried at his lack of confidence in Virgil’s skill.

One or the other.

Maybe both.

God, his head hurt.

“I shouldn’t have let him spar. But he was upset after today and I wanted to help.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I wasn’t much better, Scott!”

Oh, shit, Virgil. “’S not your fault.”

There was a lack of an answer and that worried Gordon more than anything Virgil could have said to him. He threw out a hand and scratched at a shirt. Fingers caught his, but they weren’t Virgil’s. “Sco’, ‘s not his fault!”

“Gordon, rest you have a stage two concussion. You know that is something you don’t mess with.”

Yeah, well, Virgil has a lot of muscle behind his fist.

Gordon let a breath out between his teeth and relaxed into the bed. Virgil was obviously pissed at himself and he would have to talk him around at some point.

Gentle fingers touched his face again. Soft cloth wiped a cool liquid across his skin.

“The bleeding has stopped.” Virgil’s baritone was quiet and worried. “However, there is some swelling….and there will likely be bruising.”

Swelling? Bruis-….aww, hell, he was supposed to be going out with Penny tomorrow night. A charity gala, it was important to her.

Hell.

“I’m so sorry, Gordon.” Little more than breath.

This just sucked.

He knew the results of an impact to that part of a face. He’d had to do it enough himself.

Then something else occurred to him.

“Did you break m’ noze?”

Silence.

“’irg?”

“Not broken. Hairline crack.”

“’uck!”

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

He flung out a hand again and this time managed a handful of cotton t-shirt. He dragged it closer. “’Snot your fault!”

Virgil didn’t answer, but his fingers were pried from that t-shirt and held for just a moment, only to be let go as Virgil moved away suddenly.

Gordon flailed, reaching. A footstep and those hands returned with something cold. Towelling, cold as ice.

Gentle hands gathered his and moved to his face. The cold pack melted into his skin and gave him some blessed relief.

“Hold that there.”

“’Snot your fault.”

Again, there was no answer.

A finger brushed hair from his forehead.

God, Virg.

“Rest, Gordon.”

He wanted to yell at his brother. It was a lucky shot after a sucky day. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.

“Rest.”

A blanket was draped over him and its warmth became something he hadn’t realised he needed.

“Grandma’s on her way back from Auckland.” Scott said it to the room at large.

Oh crap.

“Good.”

Gordon mentally went through what he had in his own fridge in his rooms and came up with very little. Maybe he could coerce Virg to grab him something otherwise he might expire from his grandmother’s ‘curative’ efforts.

“Don’t worry, Gordon. I have a stash. You’re covered.”

Actually, come to think of it, Virgil would probably go out of his way to do anything and everything for him over the next few days.

There was both glee and worry attached to that thought.

“Rest.” A hand returned to his forehead and stroked away what was likely a phantom hair. Virgil always had the urge to touch.

To heal.

Too good for his own good.

Those fingers slipped away again.

Gordon let himself sink a few more millimetres into the mattress.

Scott was still in the room. He could hear his breathing. Virgil was beside his bed.

He was safe.

His head hurt.

It had been an ass of a day.

Too tired to get out of the way of his brother’s fist.

Stupid move.

Stupid.

Virgil murmured something.

Scott whispered in return.

Gordon let himself drift.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Aren’t You Curious?

First part of a mini series I wanted to do for @hurtled-into-chaos-you-fight ! Introducing: Caustic horny for both the Bloodhounds!

Summary: Curious. Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? The Bloodhounds. Or: In which Caustic catches one of the Bloodhounds jerking off in the dropship and can't help but sneak a peek. Not that they mind the attention either...

!!!Minors DNI, this is adult content and it makes me v uncomfortable for you to interact. Plz respect my boundaries!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Bloodhound - Caustic/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound (Rune) has a dick, Sprite’s Bloodhound headcanons and my own mentioned, voyeurism, just Caustic and his good ole right hand, Caustic is also turned on by violence and this is mentioned

Words: 3k

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Curious. 

Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? 

The Bloodhounds. 

Fascinating couple they were. They participated in this blood-sport as one, despite if they had to shed blood of their significant other in the process. Hound was the smaller of five foot or shorter and arguably deadlier of the two. Quieter and willing to snarl in your face in a low tone no matter how big you were in comparison. 

Alexander had been on the other end of that hatchet numerous times, his chin tilted upwards and their red goggled gaze seeming to burn into his soul as they’d hum out. “You think yourself worthy of my ammunition, Doctor? Do not think so highly of yourself.” 

Before the blade would cut in and the medical bay is where he’d awaken in cold sweat and in need of a shower with a slight adjustment to the front of his pants and a grunt in his voice.

~Rest under the cut~

Then there was the other of the Bloodhounds, Rune. Towering over even Alexander, they stood at 7’4” and gave him a chance to feel small in someone else’s presence for once. Rune was a curiosity in themself as well, always sticking near the smaller of the couple and becoming more playful around them and the other legends they liked. Alexander had seen them in battle and also had been an...active participant in their bloodshed. 

They were blood thirsty, always seeking out battle and preferring close combat where they could sink their serrated teeth into you instead of a gun. 

Rune was more vulgar than their quietly taunting spouse, always taking to stalking Alexander back until he hit a wall with a hand removing their respirator just so Alexander could see their full lips tug into a wide grin full of serrated teeth. “Oh, Doctor,” They’d begin with their low voice curling in his ears. 

“How I can taste your heart pounding. From fear or-” They’d reach him by then, twisting fingers into his gear and yanking his clothing so he’d have to lean up to them and feel their snarling breath over his own mask. “-something more pathetic?” 

He’d awake in the med bay the same way, in need of a shower, adjusting the front of his pants, and in need to slow his heart beat from the very same guessed thing of ‘something more pathetic ’. 

The Bloodhounds were a curiosity, separated only in the arena visually by their heights and the differences in patches and charms on them. Hound having a wolf patch, Rune having a raven. Hound having a moon charm on their weaponry, Rune having a sun- a call back to their preferred pet names to one another. 

Otherwise, their uniforms were identical, and even that clever Giant could mimic Hound’s voice to perfection to even fool teammates, enemy squads, or the audio over the feed that people watched from home and in bars. 

These findings were all, of course, written within the confines of Alexander’s notes in a journal. Keeping tallies on both allies and people who could become enemies was merely part of his own protocol. It made working with people easier, and finding yourself in the grips of someone you once called ‘ally’- it made exploiting their weaknesses much easier. 

Of course, this is what he tells himself at night when his mind wanders and he presses his soft thighs together and clears his throat. Glasses perched on the bridge of his freckled nose and his eyes wandering over their pages, feeling a stirring in his stomach. Seems he was not one of the lucky people who were unaffected by the duo. 

Even the brief sketches and outlines filling the pages of his ‘The Bloodhounds’ sections would prove where his interests lied within them. Their hatchets drawn out, their preferred charms and patches. Even notes regarding their most spoken words in the Old Norse and Icelandic tongues that they spoke, carefully translated so he could observe their conversations more closely. 

The more recent page had yet to be fully filled out, however. On to where that pesky smaller bloodhound had gone off to. 

It just seemed one day Hound had just left, leaving Rune behind to carry the mantel of what Alexander was certain was an act of worship of participation and bloodshed. This had been about a month ago, and no matter how much snooping he did, there seemed to be no answer. Perhaps an injury? Duty to take care of back home? 

Either way, the Syndicate didn’t care. As long as a singular Bloodhound remained to cause familiar bloodshed, then there was no need to fear. And Rune certainly performed just as terrifyingly as they had done before. Even without Hound to face nor be at their side. 

But there was a new thing added to their daily mannerism now that Hound was no longer in the compound. 

Phone calls. 

It seemed simple, really, Alexander supposed it made sense to want to hear your long-time partner’s voice every day when you had not been separated in a long time. He couldn’t hear the conversation occurring, the drop ship’s walls being thick enough to provide that much privacy. Even if they were made of glass, most of the legends had taken to using blankets or netting to cover the glass to provide more privacy when they were on their few days of journey to the battle grounds. 

The Bloodhounds had taken to putting up netting on either side, making it hard to see through, but not impossible. Alexander’s desk was pressed to their wall, and most times he would consider himself to be a good roommate by not snooping into their business. 

Or at least, pretending he wasn’t. 

Like now. Where he was very much not snooping and most definitely just writing in his journal. Not at all peeking over occasionally over his glasses as he pretended to reach to the side to grab a different pen or pencil. 

That would just be asinine. 

It’s not that he meant to direct his attention off his journal, it’s just that he kept seeing movement through the netting and it was distracting. Where dark amber hair keeps shifting in one specific spot and the flash of flesh and tattoos keeps catching his eye. Though he can’t make out what they’re saying exactly, the walls only muffing them so much. He is still able to hear the deep sound of their natural voice and the growl to each purr seeming to rattle the very walls around them. 

Alexander slumps a bit in his seat, lifting his eyes and noting he can see perfectly through the hole of the net to see half of Rune’s body. 

Rune’s... 

Very. 

Very. 

Almost naked body. 

With only a mesh shirt lifted up to expose what Alexander could see of their abdomen, his eyes wander down to where he can see everything from abdomen to their knees. Where they’re exposed. A strong hand wrapped around their tattooed and, frankly, large cock. Stroking it in a slow, methodical way. Their hips rolling back unsteadily on the hammock in a way he can only imagine was them fucking themself onto something. 

Suddenly Alexander realizes why the hums of their voice through the wall make more sense as to why they were so well timed. Moans and words- possibly filthy words being spoken to their partner through the phone. A phone that Alexander can see if he subtly tilts his body downwards and looking up towards their body through the mesh of the net. 

The phone is tucked against their shoulder and ear, and he can only imagine their blissed expression. Alexander can only just see how their sharp teeth bite into their full lower lip briefly, a light part of them in a soundless gasp and smirk of their lips before forming words he cannot hear but can imagine. 

Privacy, Alexander chides himself as he sits up straight. 

He tries to focus back on his journal instead, recapping the events that happened within Olympus’ grounds. He’d had the pleasure of being in a duo match with Bloodhound- or rather, Rune, who sat in the room just in front of him. He learned an interesting weakness of heights that day. However, he also had learned that in order to get the Giant down from a high location they had accidentally landed during drop- proved to be quite difficult.  

It took coaxing and a promise that he stuck to for once, gripping their hand and helping them down. Alexander’s cheeks flush when he recaps the way their hand had clapped his shoulder with a low laugh in their chest of, “Thank you, Doctor. I shall spare your humiliation the next time we cross weapons. Unless, of course, you find it to be more rewarding that I do humiliate you?” 

He grunts to himself, rolling his neck to try and make the thoughts vanish of just how those damned Bloodhounds had humiliated him in the ring time and time again. He always got vengeance, of course, but that didn’t stop the swelling in his pants at the images of the both of them flashing behind his eyelids. 

Hound was crueler, especially if they had a score to settle. But Rune’s sheer size always made Alexander feel small, even when he was just backed into a corner by them. Either way, they both had him feeling more than a little something stirring within him. 

Alexander grunts again, a hand squeezing between his legs to try and soothe the ache that had started. Normally he had a tough time getting hard, but it appears today would not be one of those days. A mild hindrance, but nothing that would provide too elephantine of an issue. 

Just perhaps...mild discomfort, he thinks as he adjusts in his chair with a clear of his throat and a tug around the collar of his button up. 

He rests his cheek on his fist, elbow on the desk and feeling depraved as his other gives another squeeze to his cock through his trousers. He was like any other human, he had needs, just needs he never felt the desire to act upon often. Plenty of people here ready to catch you off guard. 

Alexander doesn’t mean for his thoughts to trail off, daydreaming felt so platitudinous. Overdone, undesired, and unneeded. Especially for a man of science, such as himself, who relied on realistic limitations. 

But...perhaps he could indulge. 

Just this once. 

His mind was both his biggest help and biggest weapon. He’d seen the Bloodhounds without their helmets before on the times they’d rarely join a party and he would follow. Hound preferred sporting a lower mask, a respirator of demonic likeness he had assumed in the case of colder climates, but for the most part he could see them. And what a sight they were. 

Worthy to the godly and royal pet names that their spouse referred to them as. 

Rune, on the other hand, liked the attention, Alexander assumed. Judging by their more beguiling and eye-catching attire. Mesh shirts, long dark gowns with sparkling sleeves, or too tight of pants with a left open button up. They certainly liked when people would look over too often, flushed to their chests and drinking a little too heavily in the hopes of liquid courage. 

Of course, that liquid courage would quickly be shot down if Hound didn’t like your approach, sometimes a snarl ricocheting off the walls of Witt’s bar and sending a pleasant shiver down Alexander’s spine. And fear through others. 

Rune’s taunting voice lingers in his mind as his mind begins to swirl up arousing ideas. 

He pictures them standing, taunting him and daring to lean down into his face to get close and taunt him, their breath spilling over his lips. He imagines smashing his lips to theirs, drinking in their taunting laugh as he’d spin them around in the bar’s bathroom. The hurry to yank down their pants and to see that perky, muscular ass he’s sure is covered in tattoos much like the rest of their body. 

Would they growl or moan if he dragged his tongue along their cock? Would they curl their fingers in his hair or would they grip the sink behind them and allow him to taste them? So many questions for a simple fantasy, one that his mind helpfully supplies as he fishes his cock out of his trousers to start stroking in real time. 

The fantasy continues, sinking his fingers into their ass and hearing them practically purr for him. Able to feel them clench around his lubricated fingers and imagining just how tight they’d be. The older dog laughing breathily down at him, taunting him and using that voice to their advantage. Asking when he became such a whore. And if they knew he had such a mouth on him, they would have used him long ago rather than making quick work of him in the ring. Other ways of humiliating the doctor. 

Alexander’s breath catches, the hand on his cheek sliding to cover his mouth instead as his brows furrow and his hand jerks himself off with a harsher squeeze. His hand sliding down to squeeze at his heavy balls and gliding his fingers back up to grip himself roughly. 

He imagines them gasping as he’d whip them around and fuck them from behind. Their breathy, low laughter rumbling in his chest as he’d fuck them from behind. A hand grabbing their jaw and tipping their head to the side as they’d smirk at him and croon between growls, “Enjoy your last show, Doctor? ” Only to be broken up by the sound of their low groan when he’d thrust into them to the hilt and press on their hips to drag them back with a snarl. 

He’d want to bruise them, mark them as best as he could. Whether to prove a point or maybe to rile up their spouse that he knew would tear him apart if given the opportunity. 

Their earthy scent would plague his nose as he’d bury himself to the hilt inside of them, biting into their shoulder when he came into them and hearing them pant and huff in his ear in turn. Just like the dog their title claimed they were. Being bred by him. 

He imagines how they’d cling to his arms, digging their nails into his pale flesh and making him grunt from the pain as he tells them to take it  as they howl. Releasing their own cum all over the sink. 

Alexander’s eyes are blurry as he flutters them back open, his heart pounding and his hand covered in cum. His cock gives dull throbs in time with his heart beat, met with a shaky exhale as he reaches on his desk to grab a tissue to clean up the mess. Feeling a bit filthier than he had before, but feeling less pent up. 

When his heart finally settles down, Alexander clears his throat, using a wet wipe to clean off his hands and remove any further evidence. He grabs his pen to go back to his journaling, even with his flushed face as he tries to not recap on what just happened. Flashes behind his eyes when he closes them briefly to try and take a breath and steady himself. 

A knock on the glass in front of him makes him jump, looking upwards to see the net pulled back and Rune standing there with only pants hanging low around their hips and a smirk on their lips. Their head is tilted, their eyes calculating as if Alexander were looking at an inconsequential little experiment running a maze and unable to get out. 

Locked in the eyes of a predator. 

Their smirk transforms into a cockier look when they seem to take in Alexander’s flushed and disheveled look, only making him furrow his brow and try to play it off as if nothing was amiss. He gives them a questioning look, but watches as their lips spread into a predatory grin of sharp shark-like teeth and their red gaze flickering down towards his lap. 

Alexander follows the gaze to where his cock is still out of his trousers. Burning red to his ears as he rushes to tuck himself away and hearing the muffled laugh of Rune from behind the glass from them being so close to it. Alexander refuses to look up from their journal, his head bowed and feeling humiliated. 

He could weep at the fact his dick gives another harsh jerk at the debauched feeling. 

When he finally braves himself enough to look up, Rune gives him a wink before they let the netting fall back down. Walking back to their resting area of the hammock and leaving Alexander to sit there in his aroused shame, and only feeling more aroused by the second at being caught. 

When he finally decides to rest for the night, Alexander can’t help but wonder what is to become of him from the smaller of the Bloodhounds. If they even snarled at a drunken bystander trying to flirt with their spouse, what would they do when the knowledge that Rune was being watched would surely reach them? 

There was no way they didn’t tell each other everything. 

Alexander groans aloud when his cock twitches again at the thought of a knife to his throat and harsh words snarled to him from the smaller of the couple. How they’d probably step on his cock in the middle of the ring, call him filthy and disgusting for indulging in something so sinful as voyeurism- 

He runs a hand over his face, reaching over and turning off his lamp and feeling just as filthy as earlier as he reaches under the sheets with new fantasies arising in his mind. 

This time entailing both the Bloodhounds. Plenty of snarling, plenty of hungry hands squeezing him and depriving him of air. 

Curious indeed.