#i also want his eyes to have this sharp contrast between white/silver red and black. idk how tho lol. he has this q_q stare rn

[dexaroth]

yayy damien‼ 👍

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | summon

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The Devil and his right-hand demon are forcibly yanked from Hell to encounter a power they've never seen before, a power that everyone thought was only a rumor. In chains and unable to break free, they are asked to give up part of their souls. And they do. For science. But, mostly, to fuck.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; short graphic descriptions of sexual acts; supernatural and horror (and it gets way creepier during the smut, you have been warned); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs; they don't have your best interests at heart and neither do you.

--

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

-

there’s not a word for what i wanna do to you

One second, the Devil, also known as Min Yoongi, was frowning as he gazed up at his right-hand demon Jeon Jungkook, pondering the whereabouts of the missing soul-shards. The next second, the volcanic ground below him exploded, multiple giant red-black rings adorned with symbols and images creating a circle, expanding a larger and larger surface area, crackles of red lighting and tendrils of black smoke shooting everywhere. It consumed everything, bleeding into every nook and cranny of the throne room, saturating the air with summoning intent. It was happening far too quickly for the Devil to stop, the ground splitting and black chains shooting out, surrounded by a deadly ice-silver signature of the kind of magic you don’t bring home to your mother.

“Fuck–!”

That was Jungkook.

“Ah.”

That was the Devil.

The black chains snapped around their bodies and bound them in an instant. Jungkook snarled and fought with all of his power, black wings flaring out that were instantly crushed and shredded by the enchantment, his curved black horns protruding from his head and being forced back by the power. In contrast, the Devil merely sat there. Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop it, not this kind of magic, if it could even be called that, so he didn’t try. He let the chains wrap around him and shackle him. Instead, he furrowed his brow and tried to trace the source, tried to find the purpose. In order to defeat an enemy, you must be informed. Yoongi lived by this philosophy, which was why he was the Devil.

He could not trace it.

That was very disheartening.

But he didn’t need to worry earlier, because the red-black summoning circle was closing in, and he would find out very, very soon who it was. He had nothing to worry about.

Yoongi was the Devil, after all.

-

You inspected your nails.

Matte black, pointed. You had just done them. You liked to look nice for your guests.

“Hm, the Devil works hard, but I work harder,” you chuckled.

-

This was not what the Devil expected.

Yoongi expected a dark cave, a crowd of hooded figures, lots of candles. Maybe a Bible or a Koran. Devil worshippers, Satanists, cultists, or whatever they liked to call themselves. He fully expected to fight, to kill, to maim, and to fucking enjoy it, because he was the Devil and he served no one.

That was the whole fucking point of leaving Heaven in the first place.

He did not expect this.

You.

“Oh? A new development.”

Yoongi had seen many things in his time. He thought he could no longer be surprised.

He was wrong.

You stood over the two figures chained to the ground, peering curiously at them. A plain black dress with a flared skirt and a lace high collar. Long-sleeved with small ruffled cuffs at the end. No socks or shoes, just long, beautifully sinful legs and pretty feet. Pointed, matte black fingernails at the ends of lovely hands. A single nail was on one of your full dark lips, small amused smile dancing on that pouty mouth.

Your nail pressed into your flesh.

Yoongi wanted to shove his dick into that mocking smirk.

Sharp, distinctive eyes. Unforgettable. Yoongi would not forget the eyes of the fool who summoned him anyway, but your eyes… They were different. They held no malice. No innocence either. No, your eyes were the greatest mystery of all.

They were an enigma, revealing nothing to the one who could tell everything.

Yoongi did not like this. He did not like how him, an all-powerful being, one who could poison the minds of all other beings, was being confronted with a human who seemed very not human.

You were holding something on the crook of your arm. He narrowed his eyes. A black plush goat-man with horns and an upside-down red pentagram stitched on his head. It had little leather hooves for feet and hands. Black leathery wings as well. Another common misconception of the Devil. As if he wanted to be an ugly goat for all eternity. Hmph. But there was something about the way you held it that made Yoongi think it wasn’t an homage to him.

No, you held it close to your breast, next to your heart, squeezing the plush goat-man’s little arm lovingly.

It made him ache with longing.

They were in a bedroom, on the floor next to the bed. Black sheets, fluffy blankets with white stars all over them. Black walls with posters all over them, cute animated characters, haunting imagery, various musical artists, sinful and innocent, a vast plethora that told him nothing of true intent. Modern, sleek furniture. A high-end desktop with multiple monitors. A nice flat-screen television. Many soft plushies of adorable and strange characters, stacked on shelves and in corners, both popular and niche.

Who was this person?

With every passing second, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

Jungkook was beside him, disheveled and disoriented, chained down with black. The demon sat up, growling in his chest, trying to exert his power.

“Who do you think–”

“Ah, little Satan, they shouldn’t talk until I allow them, isn’t that right?”

The Devil was not a fool. You were not talking to him. You were talking to the little goat-man in your arms. Yoongi heard a choking sound and he turned his head to see a very large black ball gag ramming itself in between Jungkook’s teeth, snapping closed with a black chain strap behind his pretty head. Jungkook looked livid, trying to bite through it, but Yoongi doubted he could break it.

You smiled at him.

Yes, indeed, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

In some ways.

Seeing Jungkook in a ball gag was a pleasant image.

“I didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I was aiming for him first,” you said to Yoongi, lowering the little goat-man and holding him by a hoof. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip apart the plush or be it. He decided that wasn’t important right now.

“Ah, well, this might be better,” you mused nonchalantly. Jungkook was still fighting his restraints, but neither you nor Yoongi acknowledged it. You crouched down, a delicate flash of inner thigh and black velvet panty in his view. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. You cocked a brow, smirk widening. “Two birds with one stone, no?”

You set the little goat-man in front of him.

Sat down, spreading your legs to squeeze the little goat-man with your inner thighs.

There was no question now.

Yoongi wanted to both be the plush goat-man and rip him to shreds.

“I’ll let you speak to me, Devil. You seem polite.” Conversational, calm. Not condescending, which somehow made it worse. At least if you spoke to him with hostility, he would know how to turn it against you.

“You have magic that doesn’t belong to you, human,” he said softly, a raspy renounce in his voice. He festered it with sweetness and warning at the same time, accenting it with a discerning stare.

You grinned.

Even he, the Devil, was unsettled.

“Nothing belongs to anybody. You only borrow it for a short while and then the powers far beyond even you take it back.”

Yoongi felt his heart drop and race at the same time. As he suspected. This was not the work of his father or some a wayward demon. Magic, power, illusionism, these were all words to describe things that could not be described. Entropy holds no bounds and there is no meaning behind it. It exists only to cause anarchy. For some reason, perhaps simply chaos alone, you, a human, was in possession of something even he could not control or understand.

Shit.

He stared into your eyes and they reflected his expression back to him. He tried to search for it, the desires within the heart, the small tendrils of pain that asked to be soothed, the soul begging to be freed. An ordinary demon could be fended off by a strong-willed human for a while, but Min Yoongi was no ordinary demon.

He was the Devil, even if he was bound by your chains.

You tilted your head at him, hair curling around your cheeks and lashes.

Yoongi could take even the weakest flame of desire and stroke it into a blazing fire. Even the holiest of saints could not fight him. Everyone wanted something, even if it was, disgustingly, in the name of his father. And humans, well, they were the masters of wanting things they couldn't have. Easily manipulated, even by each other. The Devil hardly needed to do anything at all. It was only a matter of whether or not Yoongi cared to do it and, most of the time, he didn't give a single shit.

You tilted your head the other way, smiling.

Yoongi did not find a maze or a barrier preventing him from the soul. He found the soul within seconds. It was there, all right.

The Devil just didn't know what the fuck he was looking at.

Why was your soul just you sitting there in the abyss, looking up at him with the same smile you were giving him right now?

And why did he feel nothing emitting from it?

He pulled back, looking into your eyes again. He did not like this.

You leaned forward and touched his horns.

His eyes widened as your fingertips brushed against the large curved black-red horns against the sides of his head. He hasn't even realized they had protruded. How? His horns were a sign of his power, a symbol he used for fear, for appearance, and for the moments of when he was exercising a great deal of his influence. Your fingertips brushed against the second set, the ones that bloomed upwards into wicked black-red spikes. Both sets? His soul-search had him reflexively procure both?

Shit.

He started into your eyes, seeing himself reflected back. Min Yoongi was the Devil. Emotion was no stranger to him. He harnessed it all, consumed himself in the passions and wonders of emotion. There were ones he felt less, simply because of who he was. For instance, there was not much that made him afraid.

You smiled.

Fear. He could feel it rise within him.

Yoongi grinned back.

Was this what he thought it was? He had heard of such things, rumors and whispers, even amongst the angels themselves. The hidden truth that Heaven and Hell belonged in a specific dimension or realm, Order. That there was another realm, the mirror, the reflection trapped, the unknown.

Disorder.

His kind, the high-above, and those between angels and insects, the humans, none of these belonged in the realm of Disorder. There were rumors that Order was merely a concoction of Disorder and that their realm could collapse any moment, erasing all of existence without a trace. Entropy was waiting for them all.

Yoongi understood now.

This was chaos.

The Devil was a master of desire. And a master of deliberately doing exactly what he shouldn't. He should not be tempted by a glimpse of chaos. His father would warn him to stay away from it.

His father could fuck right off.

Yoongi leaned forward, still bound, his horns disappearing. The chains clanged around him, his power rattling underneath. He wasn't doing it to fight them. He wanted to feel it. To understand what could not be understood, to touch the untouchable, because it was there, there right in front of him and he wanted it, he wanted it, and the Devil feeds off desire, even his own.

He wanted those lips.

You backed up.

The denial only made his desire stronger.

You left the plush goat-man sitting there right in front of him.

-

Jungkook was pissed.

Absolutely furious, jaw and head aching from this ridiculously large ball gag, fuming that he had no idea what was going on and that a single human was doing this bullshit. There was no way you were working alone. There had to be other beings behind this. He couldn't figure it out right now, but he would and he would tear them apart, right after he fucked your pathetic human body and tore you apart.

You must be a fool, thinking you could shackle him, Jeon Jungkook, the right hand of the Devil himself, the epitome of pure sin and free will.

He continued fighting the magic, trying to exert his strength, rattling the black chains, ice-silver lashes beating him back down. He tried to release his wings, but they were ensnared, pain shooting up his back. Jungkook cared not for pain. He had felt pain for millions of years. A few seconds was nothing. He tried to release his horns, but he could not, as if the very air neutralized him.

He was enraged.

Maybe would simply kill you so he could spend an eternity torturing you for your insolence.

Then the Devil's horns appeared.

How did he–?

Then you touched the Devil.

Jungkook wanted to scream.

He did, deep in his chest, muffled rage, jealousy, hate, all at once, and both of you ignored him, your fingers grazing Yoongi's horns, fucking smiling, looking unflinchingly into the Devil's eyes, and Jungkook wanted to erase you from existence, destroy every single shred of your soul for not groveling at the feet of Min Yoongi.

The horns disappeared and your hands hovered around Yoongi's head, fingers splayed out around the black hair like a shining halo.

Ironic.

The Devil leaned forward.

Don't you fucking kiss her, hyung!

But you moved away, backing up, gaze lingering on Yoongi before closing your eyes and reopening them slowly, a gradual shift to Jungkook's face.

He snarled at you through the gag.

He had you now. Eye contact and Jungkook could exert at least part of his power, the soul-search to find your deepest desires, your hidden gems, the calamity within that would call to him. He would find it and manipulate it, bend you to his will, turn you into his puppet. Play with you until you begged to die, only to find yourself in his arms once more, his plaything for all eternity.

All he had to do was find it.

You slid to your hands and knees, crawling to him. He felt it inside his chest, his own desire, watching the curve of your back to ass, his cock twitching at the sight, his mind conjuring images of your pretty body on a leash. Jungkook didn't have preferences when it came to bodies. A body was a body. In his hands, all bodies became prettier. You already had the base and he already had the wrath to want it. You stopped in front of him, the black skirt of your dress flaring out. He could see parts of your bare body.

Legs, knuckles, knees.

A small, amused smile on your lips.

Eyes that Jungkook searched valiantly, looking for malice, for innocence, for desire, for the darkest shadows and the lightest light.

Why couldn't he see anything?

This must be part of your magic. No matter. Jungkook had other ways. He was creative and cunning. You would break under his hand. He wouldn't stop until it was done. He was a demon that saw things through, even to his detriment.

His jaw was suddenly released from its prison, ball gag disappearing, fading into ice-silver smoke. He coughed, snapping his teeth, glaring at you.

"You dumb bitch," he hissed, violent resonance in his voice, oppressive and intense. "Do you think you humans are above us with your tricks and schemes? Kneel before those who invented such things."

You tilted your head.

Yoongi chuckled beside him.

Jungkook's brows furrowed. What–?

Your body trickled down like liquid, laying against the dark wood floor, looking up at him. Jungkook froze, maddening desire rising, infuriated at your face looking up at him, plush dark lips parted, hands on your chest, fingers spread out and molded to your flesh under the plain black dress. Sinking in, making him clench his jaw.

Your smile like a Cheshire Cat, eyes reflecting his rage.

Jungkook wanted to straddle your face and shove his cock into that smirking mouth, bulge your throat and cheeks with his girth.

"Is he always like this?" you asked, still not looking away.

"He pretends to be nice when he wants something out of you," the Devil answered calmly.

"Isn't that you?"

You still didn't look away from Jungkook. Why couldn't he find what he needed from your eyes?

"I'm always nice."

"That means you always want something out of someone."

Yoongi laughed, raspy and deep, the sound echoing in the bedroom, filling it up with his sound. Why couldn't Jungkook find it? His rage began to become infested with something else. Your eyes reflected only him.

Like a mirror.

No matter. The demons had other ways.

"Come here," Jungkook purred.

"I wouldn't do that."

That wasn't you. That was the Devil.

Your body lifted as if it was on a string from the center of your chest, fingers and black fingernails trailing against the dark hardwood, head tipped back, the line of your neck hidden by the high collar of lace, shielded from his hungry gaze. Legs curling up, skirt pooling around your thighs, his rage molding with carnal need, festering with something else.

Fear.

You rose to your knees, in prayer position in front of him, almost as if you were about to reach out and touch faith. Jungkook furrowed his brow, watching your presence near, wanting it, ready to coax or rip your desires from your lips themselves. It didn't matter if he was bound, it didn't matter if his black suit was torn up and ugly, it didn't matter if he was bleeding from his efforts to escape this magic.

You were still a human.

He was a demon and he would taint you.

Closer, your lids lowering, entranced by his spell. Jungkook smirked. Too easy. Humans were so, so easy. He craned his neck, lips parting, the palpable lust of his breath exhaling. So close to those pretty, dark, fuckable lips.

"You're really falling for it, hm?"

Jungkook paused. His eyes shifted to Yoongi. The Devil had turned his body to watch, clad in a tailored black suit. In contrast, Yoongi's was unmaimed, as he hadn't fought his restraints. The Devil had black hair like him, parted slightly, with shadowy dark brown, cat-like eyes that glinted with something sinister. Pale skin, almost luminescent. Exposed neck, elegantly laid black silk tie, unlike Jungkook, who preferred not to wear one. Lips that demanded you to plead for your life.

A body that made Jungkook want to sin for him.

That was the power of the Devil.

His eyes shifted from Yoongi to you, who had stilled in front of him. Hands beneath you and knuckles pressed to the floor like an obedient pet. What was Yoongi talking about? He had you right where he wanted you. And yet, he hesitated.

Then you spoke.

Delicate and calm, with no resonance. Human.

"I thought demons had free will?" you whispered. "That not even the Devil could control a demon."

Or was it?

Jungkook watched your lips form the words.

"If he is powerful enough, that is."

-

Yoongi didn't bother warning Jungkook anymore.

The Chaos knew what it was doing.

Clever girl.

-

Jungkook growled, leaning back a little, letting the passion of emotion course through him, wrath, lust, pride. Fear. All of it. Drawing from it, his power pulsing, singing through his muscles.

"Come here, human."

You had to crawl into his lap, his thighs against your thighs, hardness against softness, bringing your lips to his, sudden and sweet with your legs, knuckles, knees. Jungkook smirked, white teeth and canines flashing, urging you to him.

"What a good little girl,” he breathed softly. “I can be anything you desire. All you need to do is tell me."

Your eyes locked with his.

"A kiss, please."

He groaned at the small plea, finally getting it out of you, finally, and he would make you regret doing this, sow every seed of desire within you and reap it all, turn you into his pet on a leash. All he had to do was kiss you.

Jungkook kissed you.

He pressed his lips to yours, ravenous to consume what you had, eager to claim his offering.

You smiled against his lips, a small, amused smile.

It was instant, his hunger to your plushness, the rush euphoric and wild, immediate lust and power dominating him and now he could taste your tongue and fling open the doors, clawing for the soul within, the moment so close he could taste it, taste your moan sliding into his throat, his favorite treat, intoxicating in the way you sucked in his breath to fill your longs.

Jungkook arrived at the last gate, tearing through the door. Looked down into the abyss, triumphant.

You looked back up at him from below.

A small, amused smile.

A nothingness like he had never felt before.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open and widened, staring into the reflective glass of yours, his chest constricted. He had never felt this. Your lips still on his, tongue flicking, taking his breath, and then he felt a strange kind of compression, like everything was being pressurized, tighter, tighter, suffocating, and he gasped in your mouth, recoiling.

The kiss broke, your eyes still on his, lips shiny with his saliva. Your hand was outstretched, hovering in the air, fingers coated with black tendrils mixed with ice-silver, right above his chest.

Your eyes, void of anything but himself.

“What…” Jungkook breathed, hard cock straining against his slacks. “Are you?”

He didn’t understand. You were only a human. Only a human who had done a very stupid thing, summoning the Devil and his right-hand demon to your bedroom. Just a stupid, foolish human. You tilted your head. Lowered your hand and placed both hands on Jungkook’s thighs. He tensed. You pressed your fingers into his slacks, kneading the firm flesh underneath.

Where was your fear? Your malice? Your innocence?

Where was your desire?

He could only feel his own, rising, rearing its beautiful head, teeth bared and ready to strike as your fingers drummed against the fabric of his pants. You had tried to take something from him in midst of the kiss.

Part of his soul.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” he hissed, forceful and direct.

You stopped moving your fingers. He wanted to scream in dismay.

“Only a small thing.” Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “A token to remember our fateful meeting.”

Now, only now, did Jungkook not like this.

You removed one hand from his leg and Jungkook clenched his jaw, watching it rise, nearing his heaving chest, the black chains spreading apart, links snapping with ice-silver sparks, but he was still bound, still chained, and he did now know why and not knowing infuriated him. You stopped, right above his heart, the heart he forgot was there sometimes.

The true irony of this world was that angels gave up their hearts to serve the one above and demons kept them to serve themselves.

Jungkook felt it again, the compression of his insides, making his breath hitch and his teeth grind, the sensation unbearable. Your expression remained the same, the small, airless smile. Eyes reflecting his terror.

“I could take it just like this.”

Not a threat, only a statement. Only a testament to the power within you, a power that Jungkook was beginning to think wasn’t something he knew or understood. The Devil could take souls. He could reap them, he could tear them, he could wring them dry. But not like this.

“I will give you a choice,” you murmured, hand retreating, releasing him from the uncomfortable pressure. “Because everyone deserves a choice, don’t they?”

The chains were lessening, slowly slipping off Jungkook’s body.

“I’ll let you give it to me willingly.”

Your hand on his pants caressed the fabric.

“If you have the power to take it,” Jungkook snarled. “Why not take it?”

Your other hand found his other thigh, squeezing lightly, sparks of heat flying through his veins. The chains slid off him, clashing into the hardwood floor and turning to ice-silver liquid that faded to nothing.

“I do not want to take.”

You stopped your touches and Jungkook wanted to scream.

“It will feel better for you if you give.”

He raised on eyebrow. “Considerate of you.”

You smiled wider. He stared into your eyes and only saw himself.

“What do you think, Jeon Jungkook, the Devil’s right-hand man?”

He felt the tendons on his neck tense, expression twisting into anger. You shouldn’t know his name. You were a human. You would only know if he told you directly. Someone else was behind this. Someone who wanted to kill him and the Devil, thereby putting Hell itself in imbalance.

“How do you know my name?” he seethed.

“You told me.”

What?

“When you looked into her eyes, you told her your name,” confirmed a deep, cavernous voice.

Jungkook started, whipping his head to the Devil beside him. No longer chained, simply sitting lazily on the ground, one knee raised to rest an elbow on it. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Getting soft, Jungkookie?” the Devil taunted.

How…? Was he so absorbed in his own lust and deceiving you that he did not realize? He looked back at you. Your eyes lowered to his slacks and then back up to his eyes.

“Pants can always come off.”

Jungkook raised a hand, running it through his black hair, jaw set. “You are too greedy, human. Do you even know what you’re doing?” he sneered.

Your hands jerked down a few centimeters closer to his crotch, making Jungkook hiss. Your tongue slid out, feathering against the plush dark mauve of your lips. His cock throbbed with need, demanding to abuse the mouth presented. You leaned forward, putting more of your weight on him, welcome weight that Jungkook wanted all over him. He was a demon, after all. He was no stranger to carnal desire.

“I do,” you murmured softly. “You and me and the Devil makes three.”

Jungkook sharpened his gaze. “You couldn’t handle that, human.”

You said nothing.

You simply removed your heat and turned to the Devil, where Yoongi held the little goat-man plush by a single hoof, dangling it next to his lap, making your crawl into it to reach the doll. It was almost an innocent gesture, the way you took it and tucked it into your lap before looking up at Yoongi’s face, lips parted slightly, nearly curious, childlike awe decorating your features.

Jungkook growled like a hurt animal.

Your eyes shifted to him, looking at him under lowered lashes. Dismissive, vacant gaze.

“Yes or no, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Yes.”

The thin black string between you and him darkened, searing with ice-silver, a contract made. He didn’t even know the terms. He didn’t care. No human could outsmart him. And you, you must have been human once.

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t know if you were human anymore.

-

Yoongi watched your eyes return to him. The little black goat-man plush was tucked between your legs, pressed against your core. Slowly but surely, he was understanding. The original vessel was human, now tainted by someone, something, or simply bad luck. It made you something else entirely. You were a creature from the realm of Order polluted by the realm of Disorder. How long could this last? Would you die eventually from it? When you died, what would be left? Was the soul still there? Would he be able to collect it? Contain it? Study it?

Yoongi didn’t know the answers to these questions.

He wanted to know.

“Your turn,” you whispered to his chin, warm breath against his skin. “What is your answer, my Devil?”

Yoongi chuckled. “A shard of soul is all you ask for?” he purred. “What for?”

You tilted your head. “I want to complete my collection.”

The Devil doubted that. He doubted you wanted anything. Something was driving the entropy in a direction, a purpose given to the original human you long ago, and now you did it because it was the only thing left in the shell, a memory of a purpose, the human determination so strong that it could not be killed or erased, even though this body was now only a container for the power within.

The Devil had spent a lot of his time lately doing nothing. Nothing fun, nothing exciting, nothing worthy of his attention. Yoongi already knew everything there was to know about humans. He cared not for those above. But this.

This was new.

This was different.

This was something he wasn’t supposed to know.

He raised his hand, fingers tracing your jaw, staring into the eyes of Chaos. The Entropy. The Vessel.

You.

“I’ll be part of your collection, little one,” Yoongi purred.

And you will be mine, he vowed as the black string between you and the Devil glowed, ice-silver magic contaminating it with the power of Disorder.

-

part ii the collection. if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

--

masterpost

[txemrn]

The Missionary's Daughter

Ch. 1: "Meant to Live"

Need to catch up? Prologue: "It's Over"

Chapter Song Inspo: "Meant to Live" by Switchfoot

Series Song Inspo: "Changed by You" by Between the Trees

Pairings: Drake Walker x OC (Margot Hughes); Liam Rys x Riley Brooks

Series Warning: 🛑 for mature audiences only (🔞); series contains angst, language, NSFW🍋 material; trigger warning: heavy discussion/depiction of drug and alcohol abuse, suicide, religion, mental health; please be advised and exercise discretion

A/N: When I say that this took a village, it would be the understatement of the century! Huuuuuuuuge thank you to all of my amazing sweet writing sisters that encouraged me and helped me pull this together, but especially to @charlotteg234 for brainstorming and mapping this out with me, @kat-tia801 for doing the same, but then having to deal with me incessantly asking, "Does this sound right?" and @chemist-ana FOR GIFITNG ME MY FREAKING AMAZING MOODBOARD! It's SO beautiful, and it literally puts me in the mood to write about my Druggy Drake and Margot! Thank you so, so much, friend! Most of the characters and some of the plot belong to our friends at Pixelberry.

A palpable crackle ignites the sterile air of the staff locker room. To say she was ‘nervous’ is a painfully severe understatement to the jitters that spark from her fingertips. But, rather than dance chaotically like cut wires on pavement, she is lightning, mesmerizing, lighting up the sky with excitement and power.

***

Dressing for another Monday morning at her weekly volunteer job at the prestigious Cordonia Family OB/GYN, Margot Hughes swiftly shimmies a monogrammed ceil blue scrub top down her curves. Pulling her brilliant strands of autumn harvest into a high bun, she slips on her work clogs while nudging her locker closed with her knee.

Before leaving the changing area, she catches her visage in the mirror, the unflattering fluorescent lights casting more shadows onto her worried features. She can feel the rumble of her rapid heartbeat echoing in her ears; her chest constricts tightly as her breathing becomes shallow. Her eyes begin to sting with fear as the whites burn red, threatening with a glaze of tears.

Today is the day her entire life will change; everything she has ever wanted, everything that she has ever worked for will suddenly determine the course of her future in a single moment. Seeing the all-too-familiar terror in her eyes, Margot flutters her eyelids shut. Her fingers nervously trace along a simple chain around her neck until they finally grasp tightly to a dainty sterling silver charm: a cross.

“Take my anxieties, Lord,” she whispers with prayerful conviction, her sparkling blue eyes gracefully opening to look at her necklace. She exhales deeply. “Your will be done.” Margot stares at her reflection for a few more moments, focusing on her breathing to calm her restless heart. “You are strong, Margot. You've got this,” she affirms herself in a hushed tone, a bright smile breaking across her face. “This is your day--" suddenly overwhelmed with peace, a joyous smile paints across her face. Chuckling to herself, she glances upwards: “I'm counting on You.” Taking a deep cleansing breath, she eagerly exits the stillness of her thoughts, and joins the bustle of the morning's clinic appointments. Today is her day.

***

Halos of blurred auras bleach his vision as Drake cautiously opens one blood-shot eye. His tongue sticks to the roof of his roughly parched mouth as he massages his pained forehead. Clueless of what day it is--much less what he did last night--he is greeted with a sudden glorious sensation: a supple wet mouth on his hardened morning length.

His body relaxes back onto the dampened, disheveled sheets of his bed; he releases a pleasurable exhale as he blindly reaches for the head behind the lips. He strains to focus his view, but can only make out a foggy shape of a nude woman with long, tousled brunette waves.

It’s her. His love.

Drake smiles; delicately tangling his grip in her strands, he admires how even the afternoon sun catches her beauty perfectly. He quietly smacks his lips. He can still smell her on his stubble; he can still taste her on his tongue.

Had she told Liam? Were they celebrating that they could finally be together?

As she takes in the head of his girth, he arches his back, relaxing his body into her hungry touch. Closing his eyes, he offers a guttural groan deep in his chest as she swirls her tongue around his firm thickness.

“God, you’re incredible, Riley--”

---

Pulling out a pen, Margot reaches across the counter to grab a patient’s clipboard--that is until Iris, the front desk manager grips her long, manicured nails to the other side of the particle wood. “Miss Mary-Margaret,” she leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice, “do we know anything yet?” Margot chuckles, shaking her head. “Child, you better come find me the moment you know!”

“Only if you promise to start calling me ‘Margot’” the young blonde jests, opening her client’s chart.

“How about I start calling you what we’ll all be calling you in just a few short years: ‘doctor’?” Rosy pink swirls splash across Margot’s face, warming her cheeks to the touch. She bows her head coyly at the mention of her dream becoming a reality. The thought that she will soon find out if a medical career is in her future makes the twenty-one-year-old’s heart leap with unbridled excitement.

For as long as she can remember, Margot has had a strong desire to serve and help other people. Much of that selfless attitude was instilled into her heart by her own parents. They were called to be Christian missionaries when Margot was only eight years old. After much planning, church fund-raising, and prayer, Roy and Mary Hughes left their comfortable home of Lafayette, Louisiana, and settled in the small Mediterranean country of Cordonia.

Many of their friends and family were shocked that the church would send them to such a beautiful area of the world. Typically missionaries humble themselves to serve the needy, the homeless, the lonely and the sick. They sacrifice the luxuries of home for the sake of loving humanity. They help people in war-torn countries, third-world countries, countries that don’t have electricity or running water. But, this country?

Cordonia itself is a lavish nation, rich in heritage and traditions. And funds. Thanks to the ideal weather conditions, the fruitful soil produces bountiful harvests and exquisite supplies for fine textiles that remain in high demand throughout the world. The Cordonian government, a monarchy, discovered a new opportunity to expand their wealth in the late 19th century: costly tariffs to international investors. Within the first ten years of increasing the taxes on exports, the national treasury was not only in the black, but their funds had exponentially increased every year. Farms were flourishing as the working class became larger, stronger.

But, the treasury began to dwindle quickly due to the extravagant demands of the royals. For the first time in the country's history, commoners were wealthier than some of the nobility. Disdain from the upper class quickly ensued until finally, in the early 20th century under the rule of William I, a new tax law was implemented to all of Cordonia: anyone involved with international exchange would have to pay into the treasury to handle such business.

Unfortunately, there were no limitations to this new tax law, and many farms floundered, property ownership being seized by the government. Families were uprooted; jobs were lost, and worse, assets were sold for even more money, filling the pockets of the greedy leaders. The people that once had a plethora of goods at their fingertips were now starving and unsheltered. And vengeful. The Cordonians were outraged by the gouging, many of them forming violent riots, banding together with outside influencers in hopes of overthrowing the government.

On the cusp of a civil war, King William I decided to rezone the country, providing a place for the displaced working class to claim safety and sanctuary, a place that would offer shelter, education, and more affordable options for goods. To appease the people even more, he named the project ‘the Core,’ paying homage to their greatest export, the Cordonian Ruby. It was also a way for him to forever express his gratitude for such a fruitful nation: they were the core reason the nation was thriving so richly.

Like many government-assisted programs, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show in the infrastructure. And with funding cuts over the years, the Core began to crumble, striking a sharp contrast from the rest of Cordonia. The Core, now often referred to as ‘the slums’, have become a breeding ground for crime, drugs, and prostitution. It is the blemish of Cordonia, its existence often not acknowledged amongst the elite.

But, according to the Hughes, ‘God saw the need’. They were sent to serve in the slums of Cordonia, starting up several free programs, including a nightly soup kitchen, afterschool programs to keep children out of trouble, and trade classes to help adults out of poverty. The people accepted the help and adapted quickly to the missionaries; but even more importantly, they embraced these Americans as their own, many of them forming important and lasting relationships with the Hughes.

But, still there was something missing, something that burdened the missionary’s oldest daughter: healthcare. Having good health and access to a doctor is still treated as a privilege in Cordonia, and time and time again, the curable were disabled or buried. A change needed to take place. And Margot, although unsure of how, knew she would devote her life in making it happen for the Cordonian people.

As she makes a few notes on her clipboard, an olive-complected arm stealthily reaches around Margot, gracefully grazing her sun-kissed skin before gently placing a cup of piping hot black coffee in front of her. Staring at the hand, she instantly knows who it is. And she titters, playfully rolling her eyes. “Tadd! Another coffee?” She grabs the coffee, twirling on the ball of her foot to face the clinic’s young ultrasound technician. "My tab must be over a hundred euros by now!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," he chuckles, rocking on his feet. “Plus, I figured with your new gig at Bríki--” he jovially shrugs his shoulders.

“You figured what?” Margot playfully punches his shoulder. “That I could sneak you free coffee?” She gives a mischievous smile, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Mr. Pavlis would appreciate me offering free drinks, especially since I haven’t even started yet--”

“That’s right!” Tadd eyes widen. “Today’s the day--!”

“As if I didn’t already have enough to be nervous about today,” Margot’s voice becomes shaky, as she clenches her teeth in a forced smile.

“Hey,” Tadd’s voice turns into an endearing whisper. He shifts his head until his piercing jade eyes meet Margot’s baby blues. “You have nothing to worry about. We both know you did well on that American doctor test--"

"The MCAT," Margot stifles a laugh, rolling her eyes into an appreciative grin.

"Whatever," a crooked smile grows across Tadd's handsome features. "And as far as the coffee shop, you're a fast learner. And a hard worker. Plus, if they see what we all see in you--" he sighs, his gaze never breaking free from hers, "-- they're going to love you."

Margot looks down at her feet, hugging her clipboard tightly to her chest. Feeling her palms begin to sweat, she coyly looks back up at her dear friend. "Thanks, Tadd."

After a few silent moments of staring at each other, Tadd clears his throat. "So, um--" he starts, "have you heard anything yet? About the test?" Tadd changes the subject. Margot shakes her head as she takes a pull from her coffee. "Well, when you do, um, maybe we could, I mean, I thought we could--"

Suddenly an intercom buzzes overhead. "Thaddeus to exam room four. Thaddeus to exam room four."

Tadd furrows his eyebrows, looking to the ceiling before resting a kind half-smile back on Margot. "Duty calls," he nervously sighs as he bounds down the hallway. Halfway down the corridor, he spins around to face Margot. "Hey, um, come find me! Before you leave at noon!" He finger-guns the air before returning to his pursuit.

Margot awkwardly finger-guns him back before smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Seriously, Margot?" she mutters to herself, turning her attention back to the central desk of the clinic; however, she realizes quickly that the attention is all on her.

"When are you two going to make it official, Miss Mary-Margaret?" Iris chokes in the midst of her belly laughs, nodding with other scrub-adorned coworkers.

Biting her bottom lip feeling her heart flutter, Margot straightens out her demeanor, becoming stoic. "I--I don't know what you're talking about--"

"Margot, isn't it obvious?" Chimes in a jolly intake nurse. "That boy loves you--!"

"Who? Tadd?" Margot feigns innocence. She fixes her attention to the chart as she scribbles down more notes. "It's not like that--I mean, we're not, um--" she sighs. "We're just friends--" An instant roar of laughter abrupts from the reception desk, making it impossible for Margot to hide her toothy-smile paired with her scrunched up nose.

"You say that now, baby girl--"

"That's right," chimes in another giggling co-worker, "friends for now!"

An older plump nurse places a tender hand on Margot’s hand, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Some of the best relationships come from friendships, moró. Give it time. Let the love grow," she winks at Margot.

Margot fidgets with her pen, delicately licking her bottom lip. She then tries to form words with her mouth, but no sound is heard. Her pink cheeks reveal she is flustered. She quickly closes up the chart, pushing loose hairs behind her ear. "Have a good day, ladies."

Hearing the squeals of her coworkers diminishing behind her, Margot quickly escapes into an empty exam room. Closing the door behind her, she leans against it, looking up at the textured ceiling tiles. She can feel the butterflies in her stomach bouncing through to her heart as her legs wiggle with weakness like gelatin.

The idea of 'falling in love' excites Margot, an idea she has dreamed about ever since she saw Baby meet Johnny. But, so far in her young life, she has never experienced it first hand, let alone a romantic hand- hold. Was this love? All she knew for sure was today was not the day to figure it out.

***

As soon as Riley’s name escapes his breathless moans of ecstasy, a searing sharp pain instantly ignites around his hardened girth. And Drake sees red.

"Fuck!" He lets out a guttural roar until no sound comes out of his mouth. He gnashes his teeth, trying to breathe through the agony, but only froths at the corners of his lips. The veins in his neck and his forehead protrude violently as streams of tears roll down his face. Petrified to move, his face turns a deep ruddy color. Before turning violet.

A sudden sensation of relief washes over him as the stabbing sensation fades to throbbing. Drake nervously looks down at his softening cock, relieved to see his member in one piece. "Goddamnit, Brooks," he pants furiously, "you fucking bit me--"

The brunette quickly tosses her curls out of her eyesight right before her fist meets Drake's jaw. "Oh, shit!" The cracking of the joints in his face echoes around the room. Drake starts to gently massage his chin. "You're not Riley--"

She climbs off of his body, standing her naked body in front of him. "No shit, Sherlock!" She slinks her short black spaghetti-strap dress over her dangerous curves before hastily grabbing her clear platform heels and racing out the door. "Fuck you, Drake Walker!"

***

A heartless, cocky laugh pours over the phone speaker. "Shit, Walker. Just--" the baritone voice trails back into a fit of laughter.

"It's not funny, Leo--" Drake warns, accidentally shifting his weight in bed, stirring a soreness to his recent injuries. "Ow!” he sucks air quickly between his gritted teeth, “fuck!" he whimpers to himself, adjusting the cold packs on his genitals.

"But you actually called her a different name, bro. A different name! With her mouth on your salami, your pocket rocket, on your--on your anaconda--" Leo's words fade back into cackles.

"As if you remember every goddamn hook-up’s name--"

"Dude," Leo interrupts, "if she's going to go all hungry, hungry hippo mid-blowie, I'm going to remember her name."

Drake scoffs. "Bullshit--"

"What? I'm serious, bro" Leo's voice becomes sincere. "All of these bitches we meet are looking for one thing--" he pauses dramatically for his wounded friend to finish his sentence; but the silence proves Drake is clueless as to where Leo was going with this. "A connection, Walker!" Leo's voice drips with conviction. "These women don't want to feel like they're disposable, even though--" he chuckles to himself, “let’s be honest: we’re doing them a favor--”

"--’A connection’, Leo" Drake interrupts, urging the conversation back on track.

"Right! ‘A connection," reaffirms Leo, circling back to his point. "Now, okay,” he knowingly titters, “I can’t remember all of these names--”

“Ha! See?” Drake barks.

“--Which is why--” Leo enunciates over Drake, “I use a single pet name. ‘Girl’.”

"'Girl'? That’s your trick? You call them 'girl'?" Drake raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Hear me out,” Leo continues. “If you call them something like ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’, it can be seen as patronizing, that you’re clearly looking to smooth-talk your way into their pants--” Drake rolls his eyes, moving the phone to his other ear “--but now, calling them ‘girl’, I’m showing I want to be a friend, that I just simply want to connect. And then when you’re having your way with her, call her whatever the fuck you want as long as you finish the name with ‘girl’. Good girl. Dirty girl. Naughty girl. Sweet girl. Or in your case, hungry girl--”

Drake clears his throat, stifling a laugh. “--That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard--”

“Hey!” Leo interjects. “Who is wearing a bag of frozen peas on his one-eyed trouser snake?”

“Touché,” Drake sighs. “So, where are you right now?”

“With Jason up at his shop.”

“Who?” Drake lets out yawn, looking at his bedside alarm clock.

“Shit, Walker, you really were fucked up last night," Leo sighs. "Jason. You met him last night.” Leo’s voice lowers into a whisper. “He helped you get fucked up last night.”

“Oh! Right, right,” Drake rubs his head, “that was--wow, that shit was--”

“Good, right?” Leo finishes. “Hey, come join us at his shop. We’ve got coffee, and he’s got some new, um, product he’d love to show you--”

“Oh, Leo, I don’t know--” Drake removes the melting bag of vegetables from his lap. Gently lifting up on the waistband of his boxers, carefully inspecting his bruised parts.

“Does Liam have you working today?”

“No, no, it’s not that--” Drake hesitates.

“Oh!” Leo knowingly exclaims. “Does Riley have you working today?” He begins to chuckle. “You might need to let her know that you’re currently indisposed for --”

“Leo--” Drake warns.

“Then what's the hold up?"

Drake glances over at the mirror affixed to his antique dresser, but he doesn't recognize his own reflection. There's an emptiness in eyes, an inexplicable turmoil overcoming the man he once was. How did everything get so complicated? How did he get to such a place that it's better to be absent in life than to live it?

She was just a friend--at least that's what he convinced himself when Riley Brooks first caught his eye. Beautiful. Extremely witty with a fight he had never seen before. When they first kissed, he swore it was a mistake. Hormones. It had been so long since he had touched the delicate petals of a woman's lips.

But, this wasn't just any woman. It was her. And he soon would find himself wrapped up in her bedsheets, wrapped around her finger, wrapped in an awful web of lies.

And, all of his transgressions were against him, his very best friend, the man he regards as closer than a brother, his closest ally and confidant. Normally, Drake would turn to Liam in a heartbeat with any troubles, but this? How could he? How could he talk to Liam about his own devastation when the truth would devastate Liam?

It's been four days since that fateful night of Liam's coronation, four days since the love of Drake's life walked away from him, forcing his hand into harboring secrets from the crowned prince. It's been four days since Drake heard his own voice in his head, four days since he's been sober enough to even think. Even though he deemed the temporary escape necessary, the sudden twinge of discomfort in his groin makes him realize that taking another hit right now is the absolute last thing he needs.

"I think I better stay put," Drake answers, combing his fingers through his disheveled tresses.

"Suit yourself," Leo jovially retorts. "If you need any oxy for your boo-boo, hit me up--Oh, and Drake?"

“Hrmmm?”

"Her name is Whitney."

"What?"

"Jaws? You know, the bitch who chewed on your Moby Dick?" Drake sighs heavily, regretting that he ever told Leo what had happened. "Her name is Whitney."

Drake furrows his eyebrows. "Now, how do you remember her name--?"

"Oh, bro, you don't forget WAP Whitney--oh shit, you probably haven't gotten a good look at your sheets this morning, have you?"

With a grunt, Drake ends the call. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. He carefully gets up, waddling to grab his clothes before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

In the middle of splashing his face with cold, soapy water, Drake's phone rings. Grabbing a hand towel he carefully saunters back to his room, answering the call without hesitation. "Just let it go, Leo--”

"Drake?"

An icy chill shoots down Drake’s spine, freezing him in his steps. He knows that melodic voice anywhere, a voice that reminds him of early morning sunrises and late night silver moonlit paths. “H-hey, Riley,” he stutters, caught off guard. A brief awkward stillness falls over the conversation. “How are you--?”

“I miss you, Drake,” she interrupts.

Drake’s vision suddenly begins to spin as the air in the room becomes stagnant. Stiffening his bottom lip in anger, his breathing quickens as he reaches out carefully to brace himself against the wall.

“Drake?”

“I’m here,” he chokes out. “What do you want, Brooks?” He can hear the tears in her voice, but he wills himself not to care, he wills himself to not even ask.

“Drake, I think I made a mistake--”

“No,” Drake barks out, “no, you can’t do this to me--”

“Drake, please,” Riley sobs, “I’m on my way to the doctor--”

“The doctor?” Drake’s tone suddenly changes. “Are you okay? Is everything with--um, you know--” he slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand, “--okay?”

“Yes--” she sniffles, “--no. I just, I can’t do this alone, Drake. I can’t do this--”

“Riley--” he roughly says her name to grab her attention, “you made your decision: you chose Liam. You want to raise our baby--my baby with him--”

“Don’t you think I want to have this baby with you? That’s all I can even think about Drake,” she takes a moment to calm down her shaking voice. “I love you, Drake. I want a life with you. I want you to be there when this baby is born, when this baby needs his or her father--when this baby needs you--”

“Riley--” Drake exhales with frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, “--but Liam--”

“I know, Drake. I know--” Riley takes a deep breath, “Can we just talk? In person? Just so we can figure this out? I can come over there--”

“Brooks, I--” Drake stumbles over his words as he runs his fingers over his coarse, overgrown stubble. Of course, he wants her to come over. And to stay. But, has anything changed? Liam just proposed, and she made it clear what her intentions were. But, still, it’s possible she had a change of heart, and this was a second chance he may never get again. He sighs heavily. “Sure. Okay."

After finishing his impromptu conversation with Riley, Drake realizes he needs to make another phone call. He scrolls through his call history, and clicks the green send button.

"Did you change your mind, Evander Holyfield?"

"Funny, Leo," Drake sarcastically responds. "So, yeah, um, what's the address to the shop?"

***

“Does that--does that say what I think it says?” Margot nervously stammers. "I think I saw my score--oh gosh!"

“Here. Let me look--”

Margot quickly covers the computer screen with her hands, "No, Mrs. Iris!” Margot squeals. “I’m not ready--I’m not ready for this!”

“Child, you have been ready for this for months. Now, if you don’t get your hands out of the way--"

"What's with all the commotion?" A few technicians and nurses pile into the room, each giving an endearing rub to Margot’s back. Everyone begins craning their necks to see the computer, covered by Margot's arms. "Is it time? Have they posted the scores?"

"They sure have!" answers Iris before turning to Margot. She tucks several blonde wisps behind Margot’s ear before putting her finger under her chin. "C'mon, baby," she smiles encouragingly, "it's more fun celebrating than worrying."

"I'm--" Margot takes a deep breath, biting back her tears, "--I'm so scared--"

"--and the Lord knew you would be, baby." Iris wrinkles her nose at Margot, her voice becoming stronger. "That's why He called you to be courageous. C'mon."

Margot bites her lip, slowly nodding her head. Feeling the storm brew in her eyes as the weight of the world sits on her chest, she carefully peels back her hands. Her eyes scale the black and white on the screen, but nothing seems to make sense. A burst of silence overwhelms her hearing, time standing perfectly still. Her only company is the beating of her heart.

Take my anxieties...

You have nothing to worry about…

Your will be done…

Be courageous...

Like suddenly breaking through the surface for air, an abrupt roar of cheers fill the room, shaking Margot from her trance. "Our baby girl got a 519!" screams a tearful Iris, pulling Margot from her seat and into a tight embrace. Other coworkers join in, creating a giant group hug.

Margot remains speechless, shocked by her score. She always knew she was an excellent student, studying hard all through school and excelling in her classes. When it came to the MCAT, she was confident she would score better than average, a score of 500. But, to even be noticed by top medical schools, she needed to score in the top 5%, a score 517 or greater.

News swept like wildfire through the clinic, and shortly thereafter, Tadd and some other technicians filed into the breakroom with a decorative chocolate cake and punch in tow. "I knew you could do it!" Tadd cheers victoriously, offering a chaste hug to Margot. "Dr. Hughes," he swipes his hand in the air as if to paint an imaginary portrait. "It has a nice ring to it."

"I still don't understand why you put yourself through all of that," mentions an older phlebotomist. "Cordonia has a medical school right down the road--"

"Because Margot wants to go to one of the best medical schools in the world," interrupts a deeply demanding, yet sincere voice. “To Harvard. Like me.”

"Dr. Ramirez," Margot smiles brightly, jumping up to greet her mentor with a hug.

"That is, you are still looking at my alma mater for medical school--"

"Yes ma'am!" Margot's eyes light up with the thought that her dream of going to Harvard Medical School is becoming her reality. "It would be such an honor to go there, let alone to follow in your footsteps."

Dr. Ramirez pulls Margot in for another tight hug. "My word, Mary-Margaret, 519?" she presses her cheek to Margot's, "I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, Dr. Ramirez," Margot warmly responds, "thank you for taking a chance on me and helping me so much with my studies and research--"

"You know I did that for selfish reasons, right?" The practitioner stifles a smile while Margot squints her eyes with suspicion. "Cordonia needs more female physicians, and more importantly, physicians that will make a difference in its healthcare," she grips tightly to Margot’s hand, "for everyone. I believe you will lead this country in a health care reformation."

"I don't know what to say," Margot clears her throat as she fights back the tears. "I hope I make you proud--"

"You already do." Dr. Ramirez gently touches Margot's cheek lovingly before turning to exit the room.

"Oh!" Margot quickly chases after the obstetrician, “can I talk to you? Privately?” With a nod, Dr. Ramirez leads Margot into a quiet corner. “I know my work-study ends in two weeks--”

“I know. Don’t remind me, Margot--”

“Well, I was wondering,” Margot chews on the side of her mouth, fidgeting with her fingers, “if by any chance I could possibly stay on?”

“Oh, Margot, I wish I could. Unfortunately with budget cuts--”

Margot shakes her head. “No, no, Dr. Ramirez, I meant if I could stay on, shadowing my usual Monday and Thursday mornings, I mean, if that’s alright. Learn more? Keep up my skills?”

“You want to continue volunteering with us?” The doctor gives an inquisitive look. “Don’t you want to get a job to earn money before you move to the states next year?”

“I already got that covered,” Margot assuredly answers. “I just got a job at Bríki, the coffee shop past the square--”

“Oh my gosh,” Dr. Ramirez’s eyes light up. “Does Aleksi still own that place?”

“Mr. Pavlis? Yes! Him and his son run it together, I believe--”

“They have the best coffee,” she energetically smiles, “now I have another reason to stop by.” She kindly places her hand on Margot’s shoulder. “Of course, you can stay on as a volunteer. Whenever you want, however much you want. It is a pleasure to have you around.” With a squeeze of her arm, Dr. Ramirez turns to go to her next appointment, but stops halfway down the hall. “Oh, Margot? My nurse stepped away to make an important phone call. Do you mind escorting my next patient to the exam room?”

Margot dutifully nods with a grin. She twirls around, bounding for the front desk to grab the chart of Dr. Ramirez’s next patient, a new patient. After making a few small notes, Margot opens the door to call her back.

“Brooks? Riley Brooks?”

*****

Tags: (this is my original tag list for this series; if you wanted to be added or removed, please let me know!) @alyssalauren @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovingchoices14 @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @sweatyrysconnoisseur @taniasethi @tessa-liam @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @thegreentwin @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

[flying-nightwing]

Throne of Blood (2/3)

It’s ya local simp back again with the praise/devotion kink sweating out of this series in waterfalls. I set this on three parts, and potentially a bonus chapter *wink wink*. 

This is still marked NSFW for the same reasons as part 1, so minors still DNI

Part 1 in masterlist (Bio + pinned)

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader x Roy Harper

Word count: 4919

Warnings: Same as part 1 babes

“I still don’t believe it”

The sky was clear and the sun was high, reflecting on the crystal white of the snow covering the land. A cold wind blew over the western watchtower, reddening Roy’s cheeks in a similar tint to his coat. He looked down to you and grinned. 

“Say what you may,” He replied, pulling slightly the string of his bow twice. “I’m hitting that target, darling”

“So smug” You sighed, twirling the arrow in your fingers before handing it to him. “Let’s see, my dear. One chance, gotta hit the mark”

He only winked and armed his bow, carefully drawing his bowstring. He paused there and closed his eyes, feeling the force of the wind and calculating his aiming angles. You could see in the distance the Wayne Kingdom’s guarding post and a small dot pacing around. Roy reopened his eyes and angled his bow to the right, then up. As he breathed out, he let the string go. 

First thing you knew, the little dot fell over the ledge of the tower.

“I…” You mumbled, your jaw going just a bit slack. You couldn’t stop staring at the guard post. 

“That’s right!” He laughed, pumping his fist in the air. “I told ya I was gonna make it”

“Well, I know to admit when I’m beaten” You sighed again, looking back at him. His eyes were shining with pride and mischief. “How many golds did I owe you again? 4?”

“Mhh, forget the gold” His cold hand trailed up your neck to rest behind your ear, tangled in your hair. “That baffled expression on your face is more than enough to satisfy my ego” 

“Are you sure?” You teased further, letting him invade your personal space. “Your ego is pret-ty big sometimes”

“You’re right” He breathed out, rubbing your temple he was so close to you, his lips were almost on yours. “Maybe there is something you could do for me after all”

“Name it” You said, smiling. “I owe you one, after all”

He didn't answer, only closed the short distance between you two. His cold, chapped lips met yours in a soft kiss as his other hand snaked around your waist. You could feel his bow digging into your back, but you didn’t care. Your hands went around his neck to pull him even closer to you, letting him shield you from the harsh wind. He was so warm, you wanted to stay against him for hours more. 

“Did we ever do it on the western tower?” He asked as he pulled back to breathe. 

“On the south tower, we did” You nodded, panting. “There was also this one time with Jason on the north balc-- Fuck”

Your eyes shut as he bit the skin of your neck, then sucked on it. “So we never did it on this watchtower” He hummed against you. “Right, because that guard definitely had a field glass. But now he can’t spy on us” 

“My Lord, my Lady”

You shut your eyes, trying so hard not to snap at the boy. You could never have a moment of intimacy in this castle, it seemed. Roy recomposed himself first, straightening his back and facing him. He didn’t even look shameful or bashful at all, instead, he was pretty relaxed. 

“Yes?”

“His Majesty requires your presence in the throne room” He said, his cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment. “It seemed pretty urgent”

You both shared a concerned glance. Without another word, you swerved passed the boy and walked straight to the throne room. You were a bit far, but you believed you set your record on how fast you could cross the entire castle. Your strides were long and purposeful, and your hands were not far from your weapons.

You ended up in the large room sooner than later, your eyes scanning for any imminent danger. Instead, you found a small crowd of seven people in front of the throne’s pedestal. One of the men caught your attention--and everyone else’s probably--by his looks alone. Tall, dark hair, wide blue eyes and one stunning armor. The blue bird on his chest contrasted the black of the armor, sticking out from the silver gray of his guards. His posture was tensed, but not as much as Jason’s on the throne. You and Roy slowly took your place on his side, finally making you be seen by the handsome man. His eyes found Roy first, and they exchanged a long glance. Then, it was your turn. He studied you for a moment before he turned to Jason again. 

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble” He said, holding his hands up. “I’m only here to warn you”

“You could have sent another message if it was that important” Jason sneered. So this was his brother.

“Jason, I’m serious” He rubbed his nose. “Father is done and through with this will he won’t he. He is determined to stop you”

“Let him come” He snorted. “I know his every move, Dick. He can’t touch me”

“He knows that,” He argued, frustrated. “That’s why he issued capture warrants for both of them, effective as we speak”

Jason froze as his brother pointed at you and Roy. His face betrayed no emotion, but you knew a sensitive chord had been hit. You didn’t like how his own father tried to hurt him that way, and it made you angry. How dare he try and hurt your Jason. 

“He’s not gonna kill us” Roy spoke, but even he had a subtle uncertainty in his voice. The mighty King Wayne didn’t kill, but this moral guideline might have wavered if Jason had pushed him far enough. 

“He won’t” Dick replied. “But it doesn’t mean pain won’t be involved”

“If he even tries, I’ll kill him myself” Jason grumbled. “He’s not ready for--”

It happened fast. Your attention was divided in between the two brothers, so much that you failed to do a visual sweep of the room. You missed the two shadows on the higher balcony, or the draw of a bow that was aimed in your direction. It was the quiet sound of the arrow flying through the air that tipped you off, making you turn on the side by instinct to protect yourself. You felt the sharp steel of the tip pierce your shoulder--instead of your heart--and you fell on your knee. Before you could touch the ground, Roy fired and dropped the two shadows from the balcony before they could shoot anyone else. In a blink, Jason was over you and Dick was barking orders to his men to stand down. 

Then came your scream of pain.

“Hey, hey, look at me” Jason called, bringing your attention to him. Your breathing was shallow and you wanted to pass out from the pain. You could feel the arrow tear and burn your flesh at every muscle contraction, and the hot blood slowly and steadily flow down your back. “You’ll be okay. Don’t pass out just yet, stay with me” 

“I’m sorry” You rasped out in between two shallow breaths. You were pretty sure the arrow had been barbed by the pain that was pulsing through your entire upper body. "I didn't see him sooner. That was a rookie mistake"

“No, this is on me, not you” Jason’s beautiful face was twisted with guilt. “I-- I didn’t see him, I should have known-- Fuck”

His hands started trembling around the arrow he was holding steady. His hands were red already and you were getting drowsy; you had no more feeling in your right hand already, your entire arm hanging limp from your body. Black dots veiled your vision that was becoming blurry by the second, only dissipated for an instant when Roy appeared in front of you. 

“Dick and Commander Garret got it” He told Jason before holding your head in his hands, forcing you to focus your attention on him. “You’ll be fine, but we need to move you. It’s gonna hurt. A lot”

“Can’t be worse” You joked, your voice slightly slurred and your smile resembling a grimace more than anything else. His expression turned sorry while he offered you back a pity smile. Oh, it would be a lot worse. 

And he was right. They lifted you easily, both their strength more than enough to support you, and carefully made their way to the side room. You bit your cheek hard enough to draw blood so you wouldn't scream again with every step they took. There, with one swipe of his arm, Jason threw everything off the stone table in the middle of the room, sending flying some probably priceless items on the floor. He didn’t care. They laid you face down, then rushed to stop the blood flow.

“The doctor is on her way” You heard Roy say as you felt fabric pressed around the shaft of the arrow. You tuned in and out of the conversation, unable to keep focus on their voices for more than a few seconds at the time. A nap seemed so good right now.

“How did we not see them--”

“Don’t start blaming yourself again--”

“Well, it’s pretty much my fault if--”

“Jay, we are your guards, we knew--”

“Still! I’m the one who’s supposed to--”

“If you want me to take out this arrow, you’ll need to stop arguing and start helping me--”

“Yes ma’am”

“Sorry ma’am”

Some doctor she was. If only you could see their faces. You felt them working around you, something cold on your skin, followed by the arrow being pulled out of your shoulder. At this point, everything felt the same. Your pain was just everywhere, but now you knew at least the arrow was out. You heard the doctor shoo out Jason and Roy, then you passed out.

---

The tremble in Jason’s hands went away when Roy closed the door of the room behind them. His eyes turned as hard as steel as he faced the throne room, and without looking back, went straight for it. All heads in the room turned at the sound of him coming in again, and he had an idea why they kept staring. Your blood was still on his arms, reddening his skin up to the elbow. His hair was a mess and his eyes read violence. He stopped in front of the still moving body of one of the assassins. Roy’s arrow went through his cheek, but he was still alive. He glanced briefly at the other body, still with two arrows in the throat, then back to the one at his feet. Nobody else dared to move, not Roy, not his brother, not the guards around him watching the scene unfold in front of them. 

Roy had a similar posture. Despite shooting in a reflex, his rage had left him guide his aim in the fire of the action. He had known in that split second that the man who fired the arrow didn’t deserve a quick death, that an arrow to the chest like his friend would be a mercy. Instead, he had gone for the painful shot that would leave him alive for the wolf the devour. Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for Roy to have them both to himself.

Jason bent down and grabbed the man by the back of the neck, dragging him along with him. The man couldn’t talk, only moan in pain as he was forced to follow Jason’s angry pace. Roy wasn’t far behind, eager to see what would happen next. Jason wasn’t a predictable man, especially not when angry. And now, it would be an understatement to say he was furious. 

Jason dragged the man through the room, then out of the castle and across the stone bridge. He stopped only when he was out of the fortified gates, where the towns citizens passing by eyed the scene with horror. A crowd gathered around, and Jason waited until there were enough people around to speak. He must have looked insane like this, bloody and disheveled, unhinged and on the edge. He usually wouldn’t have gone in public like this, but he needed to pass a message. 

“This man has committed a crime against the crown” He began, and silence fell over the crowd. The man writhed in his hand, but he was too weak to escape the iron grip on his neck. “He snuck into the castle and attempted to kill my personal guard and advisor under a mandate issued by a neighboring Kingdom. If anyone has any idea to follow in his footsteps, this is what will happen. No one trying to claim the bounty will end up any better than him. Somebody fetch me a rope. A sturdy one”

It didn’t take time for one of the guards to come back with a thick rope and give it to him. He kicked the man down and held him there with his foot, ignoring his moans of pain as he worked on a noose. He looped it around the man’s neck and pulled him back on his feet. The sound of his sword sliding out of its sheath was deafening, and even more so the footsteps he took to stand in front of the man. 

“Death is too kind for your crime” He muttered. “But it’s what you’ll get today, because I don’t want to see your face ever again. Tell the devil I said hi when he pulls out your guts”

With a quick movement of his sword, he sliced his stomach deep enough for his insides to spill on the pavement. Jason stood there, watching him for a minute before he walked away. He only paused when he was shoulder to shoulder with his guard.

“Hoist him up the gate” He instructed, but there was no place for arguments and the boy knew it. “So he can serve as an example for the rest of them”

Then he kept walking. 

---

“Your progress is impressive”

You looked up from the gourd you were drinking from, your chest still rising quickly after the effort you just made. You had stopped outside a little road town and set camp in the woods. Like always, you’d take an hour or two to train with Jason. You had a lot to learn to even get close to an acceptable gap between your skills and theirs, but they were patient with you. 

“Thanks” You nodded as you closed the gourd again. Night was setting in soon, announcing the end of today’s training session. 

“I think you are ready to choose a weapon of your own” He said as he put back his sword in its sheath. “One’s choice of weapon is personal, and it can be quite telling about its wielder”

“Choose a bow and arrows” Roy called as he came back from the woods, dinner in hand. He had caught four rabbits and a bird. “There’s nothing quite like it”

“See, Roy chose a bow,” Jason explained further. “This tells us that he’s an idiot”

You laughed as Roy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Ha ha” He laughed dryly. “You’d look like a clown if I wasn’t your long shot”

“I’m not gonna choose a bow” You shook your head, chuckling. “I’ll leave the exclusivity to you”

You turned around as they kept bickering, looking over to the small bunch of weapons your party carried. Swords, curved blades, barbed sticks and one sharp looking spear were staring back at you, but nothing caught your eyes. That was until you spotted the two bodies laying a few paces away from your camp, reminding you of the two mercenaries who tried to ambush you earlier to catch the reward for your heads. Tried being the keyword, because the two amateurs had no idea who they went up against. Despite their sharp battle axes, they were taken down in a blink. You wandered toward them and picked up the two weapons beside them, then came back.

“I want these ones”

They both turned to you, surprised by your choice. Jason stepped closer to you, gently pushing up your arm so he could have a good look at one of the axes. The double edge was kept sharp, and it seemed balanced. He looked back at you.

“Those are quite heavy weapons. Warrior type, devastating things” He hummed. “You need quite some strength to wield them precisely and inflict damage. Are you sure?”

“You think I can’t do it?” You raised your eyebrow in challenge. He smiled.

“Oh no, I know you can do it. I even think the axes will suit your style” He chuckled, holding your stare. “All I’m saying is you’ll need to put the work into it”

“I’m ready” You lifted your chin up. “I don’t want to feel powerless ever again”

“With these, you won’t” Roy said as he passed behind you. You could just hear the grin in his voice. “Whoever will stand in your way will have no idea what came for them”

---

Jason already hated meetings, but this one had been particularly long. Not only because he was worried for you, but because he was alone. Roy was with you, making sure nobody got to you while you recovered, which left Jason off to bear the entire meeting without at least his favourite people by his side. But it was crucial for him to be there, because it was when he decided the counter offensive to adopt. His troops had been sent across the border, blocking all the roads to his territory. No army could march in without being met with resistance. He was well aware he was escalating the tensions tenfold by doing that, but his father deserved everything that would come his way. 

The sky was cloudy, but the weather was nice for winter. He stepped outside, spotting the man in black and blue observing the frozen garden with little interest. At the sound of Jason approaching, Dick faced him. 

“Well, you got a grip of yourself quicker than I expected” He hummed, noticing the lack of blood on his hands and his combed hair. He had changed to his black and red armor, leaving behind more formal wear for the time being. “I’m surprised”

“Don’t be” Jason snorted as the two men began slowly walking side by side. “I am aware I have a duty that I must do, no matter what happens”

Dick eyed him without commenting on that matter. “I suppose I am not allowed to leave just yet”

Jason smiled without humor. “That’s right”

“You know I could easily escape on my own”

“And you know if you did I would drag you back here by the neck”

“Obviously” Dick rolled his eyes. “What about my men?”

“Escorted out of my territory with the soldiers who are heading east” He replied.

“Why are you doing this?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Why, to make our dear father sweat a little” He shrugged. “His golden son close enough for me to strike down quickly if he even thinks of pulling that shit again”

Dick remained quiet for a moment, his head down. He was aware his brother was watching him, looking for any sign of guilt or responsibility in that matter. “You know I would have never let those men tag along with me, right?”

“Do I, now?” Jason hummed. “They used your presence here to sneak in. I’m sure you know how this looks like”

“Jason” Dick sighed. “I don’t want to see you fall. I might not agree with some things you do, but there is a reason I came here to warn you”

He didn’t answer.

“Besides, I would have never tried to hurt the woman you love. I wouldn’t have done that to you” He added. “To you and to Roy”

Jason’s head snapped up, his wide eyes setting on Dick. How did he know?

“It’s quite obvious. Both your reactions were one of love, and there is clearly no competition between you two. It wasn’t very subtle” Dick explained. “And no, you did not say that out loud, but your face did. You forget sometimes I know you both better than you want to admit it”

Jason sighed. Of course, Dick would see it instantly. It’s not like he was ashamed of his relationship, on the contrary, his staff already knew it all about it judging by the number of times they barged on them in compromising situations and he did not worry about them knowing. But he knew decorum frowned upon it and a lot of people who already had something against him would only use it to further their case. He wanted to protect his family more than anything. 

“You’re lucky to have them, and they’re lucky to have you” Dick spoke again after a moment. “I hope she’ll be okay”

“I hope she’ll be too, for your sake” Jason turned serious again.

“What does that mean?” He grew wary, straightening his back. Keeping him here was one thing, and he’d quietly stay if it could appease his brother to have him somehow prisoner, but he wasn’t sure he’d accept being threatened. 

“Whether or not it was voluntary, you brought those opportunists here” Jason didn’t back down. “If she doesn’t make it, I will rain hellfire on everything Bruce loves, starting by his most prodigal son”

The two men stared at each other in confrontation, shoulders squared and the tension so tight it could be cut with a knife. And that knife was apparently named Roy.

“I think it won’t be necessary,” Roy said carefully, breaking the heavy silence. “She has been awake for a few hours, the doctor is changing her bandages. You should go see her”

Jason looked in between both men, then nodded at Roy. “I guess you two have things to talk about. I’ll leave you to it”

He walked away without looking back, and instead focused his thoughts on you. His feet guided him to the infirmary while his mind was far away from this reality, spiraling down what ifs and worst case scenarios. He paused in front of the door, then knocked and pushed the door open. 

“Ah, King Jason” The doctor greeted as she washed her hands. “Just on time. I’ll leave you two in a second”

“Is she okay?” He asked.

“Ask her yourself” She smiled before wiping her hand on a rag and leaving.

You blinked slowly as the voices registered around you. You were feeling tired, but you wanted to stay awake a bit longer to speak to him as well. Roy had spent the majority of the day with you, well past sundown. You turned your head and smiled at him, easing just a bit of concern off his handsome features. 

“Hey” Your voice was weaker than usual, and you had no doubt you looked paler too. According to the doctor, it was possible to make a full recovery if nothing got infected before the wound healed at least a little bit. She’d have to check in inflammation as well, but it looked not so bad so far. 

Jason couldn’t help but smile back as he reached you and sat on the chair left beside the bed. He brushed hair away from your forehead with the back of his hand, relieved he couldn’t feel the heat of a fever coming out of you. “How are you feeling?”

“Just peachy” You chuckled, then flinched at the pain in your shoulder. “Ow”

“Take it easy” He soothed, caressing your uninjured shoulder. His touch was so comforting, you wished he’d never take his hand away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner”

"S'okay" You replied. “I know you must have had a lot to do after this shit show” 

“Still” He sighed. “I should have just--”

“Don’t start blaming yourself” You frowned. “None of this was your fault. I don’t want to see this expression on your face anymore, now”

He snorted. “Roy said the same thing, you know?”

“Well, he was right” You smirked. “You should listen to him sometimes” 

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course you choose this time to gang up on me”

“I dreamed about you” You changed the subject before he could find a new way to blame himself. “Well, I don’t know if it was a dream or a vivid display of a memory. Everything was too hazy to make the distinction”

“What was it about?” He asked, rubbing his thumb in circles on your shoulder. 

“When I chose my axes” You answered. “It’s a good memory. It did make me feel better”

“If I recall correctly, it was also the first night I kissed you” His tone turned teasing. “First night Roy kissed you as well. Beside the fire as the summer began, right after wiping out the guild members on the edge of the Kingdom of Blüdhaven”

“Hmm, I recall we did more than just kiss”

The soft glow of the fire, three naked bodies intertwined as they moved in sync, breathless moans and wandering hands. Jason had to chase that perfect picture away from his mind before it could lead him somewhere inappropriate for the situation, no matter how he wanted to close his eyes again and let the memory play out in full. You did it on purpose, he knew that much, probably to cheer him up or pull his mind further away from the less than pleasant reality. 

“You’re going to kill me one day” He grunted, and you let out a little laugh, careful not to pull your stitches. Your hand found his and you squeezed it lightly, making him look down briefly at your locked fingers. He took a deep breath and sighed longly. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter” He shook his head, but you didn’t back down your stare. Finally, he caved. “The assassins. They’re dead, and the one that did this to you is… Well”

You could only imagine his death was nothing short of horrible and painful. You didn’t know if finding satisfaction in this made you a terrible person, but you took comfort in the fact that he suffered more than you did. You only wished you had been there to see it.

“But my father, I…” He gulped. “He’ll know what happened here. If he strikes, which will be most likely the case, I’ll need to be ready. He won’t take you, not on my watch”

“I won’t let him take me, or Roy for that matter, away from you” You reassured him. “I’ll be out of this bed in no time and back at your side, just watch”

A small smile stretched his lips. “Always the warrior spirit” He leaned down and kissed your head. His lips lingered on your skin and your eyes fluttered close to prolonged contact. “But you’ll need to take it slow to recover. You need not to rush for me”

“I’ll always rush for you, my King” 

You noticed the hitch in his breath and the adoration in his eyes. The crystal shine of tears gave them an innocent glow, one you rarely observed on his face but appreciated every single time you had the chance to. It was easy to forget how young he actually was under all the weight that has been put onto him, he always seemed so much older and stern. You reached your hand for his face despite every single of your muscle screaming against it, and he leaned into your touch, softly closing his eyes. He allowed himself to relax just then, finally convincing himself that you would be okay. You had this gift with him, how you always managed to sneak into his heart and mind and bring him peace. He had been bewitched from the moment he met you, he had known right then and there he was already yours. And the fact that this connection transferred so easily to Roy, that you could make equal space in your heart for both of them only amplified his affection for you. You were their missing piece, and he would do anything--anything for you. 

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered, gently taking your hand on his cheek and kissing it. 

“It’s not luck” You smiled. “You took care of me when I needed you the most, I’m only returning the favor however I can”

“She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?” 

You and Jason looked up at the new voice joined in, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at Roy’s wide grin. He walked closer and gave Jason’s shoulder a little squeeze, sitting on the arm of his chair. Your shoulder hurt but now that you had them by your side, everything seemed better. 

“So, what are we going to do now?” He asked, eying you both. Jason took a deep breath, repeating Roy’s question in his head a few times. He didn’t have much time to think about something concrete, but it wasn't the ideas that were missing.

“Well, this seems to me as a pretty clear declaration of war” He said, slowly trailing his eyes from yours to Roy’s. “We should react accordingly, don’t you think?”

“Hit ‘em hard and fast at the source, won’t matter if they see it coming or not” Roy nodded in approbation. “This is what you were thinking, right?”

A sinister smirk appeared on Jason's lips. It was thrilling and frightening all the same, promising a terrible retribution. “My loves, we’re going to war”

[dimigex]

I Won’t Lie - Kakasaku

It’s finally done!! I started this piece years ago but never finished it. It’s the follow on to my story Distraction, but you don’t have to read that to understand it at all. 

Distraction, I Won’t Lie, Part One, Part Two, Epilogue 

Here’s the first part, the rest is linked above and also available on FF.

"So, have you put the moves on the Hokage yet," Ino questioned, applying black eyeliner with a practiced flip of her hand. Her aqua blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast, seeming larger than they had any right to.

Sakura groaned from the bed, falling back to cover her face. "I never intended to put the moves on him," she mumbled, hoping that Ino wouldn't be able to see the crimson flush of her cheeks. "And, it didn't work anyway. Kakashi doesn't know that I exist."

Ino jerked the pillow away and leveled her best friend with a stare. "He definitely knows that you exist, but you need to remind him that you're a woman now, not a little girl." Her gaze swept over Sakura from head to toe. "Why don't you put on something a little more interesting tonight?"

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Sakura frowned at her outfit. Okay, the leggings that she wore were more comfortable than provocative, and her mother would have approved of her shirt, but that didn't mean there was anything wrong with it. She always dressed like this when they went out. It wasn't her fault that Ino had more outfits than any other girl that Sakura knew, and an uncanny way of making everything look sexy.

"Nothing," Ino answered, with a smile curving her cherry-red lips. "As long as you want to die old and alone."

Sakura threw the remaining pillow at Ino's face, narrowly missing. "Shut up, Ino-pig," she grumbled, reverting to the insult that had become a friendly nickname over the past few years. Sakura tugged at her shirt for a moment, chewing her lip "If I agree, can you make it look like I'm not trying too hard?"

A grin split Ino's face. "Of course. We have to find just the right outfit to show off that body you worked so hard for."

Before Sakura could protest, the blond pulled her off of the bed and toward the closet. Nearly an hour later, Sakura examined her expression in the mirror, shocked at the illusion that Ino had created. Long lashes framed her green eyes, making them stand out against her pale skin. The faint dusting of freckles that Sakura usually hated had taken on a soft glow from the highlighter Ino used. Glossy lips completed the expression, in a shade lighter than Sakura ever thought she could pull off. Ino hadn't stopped there. She'd transformed Sakura's hair as well. The pale tresses piled on top of her head, falling in artful curls around her face.

Ino pulled Sakura from musing about how she looked like an entirely different person by tugging on the dress. The blond dragged the black fabric to the side, baring one shoulder. It draped Sakura's body, accentuating enough to suggest that she had more curves than she really did. Chuckling, Sakura pulled the fabric toward her knees. Ino slapped her hands away. "Stop that, it's supposed to be short."

"I can't wear this," Sakura complained even as she turned to admire herself from the side. It hugged her body in a way that none of her other outfits had.

Shaking her head, Ino walked over to the closet and tossed a pair of heels to Sakura. "You can, and you will. No one will be able to keep their eyes off you, especially not Kakashi."

Color flamed in Sakura's cheek, hidden somewhat by the makeup. "What if he isn't there?"

Ino's devious grin made Sakura nervous. "Then you'll go home with someone else. You look too damn good to go home alone tonight"

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

When Ino and Sakura swept into the pub nearly half an hour late, dozens of heads swiveled in their direction. Ino linked an arm through Sakura's and pulled her into the room before she could back away in a fit of self-consciousness. Her gaze swept over the people gathered for Naruto's birthday, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Kakashi wasn't there yet or not coming at all, everything they'd done had been a waste of time.

Forcing the hopelessness down, Sakura caught sight of an overbearing ball of sunshine cutting through the room. Naruto's grin probably had more to do with the atmosphere than alcohol, but she couldn't be sure. He threw an arm around Sakura's shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. "I was beginning to think nobody from my team was going to show up tonight."

When Naruto released Sakura, his blue eyes slipped lower than her neck. The blush on his whiskered cheeks was obvious even in the dim lighting. "You look nice tonight. I mean, not that you don't always look nice-" Sakura's laughter cut off the awkward exchange, and Naruto managed a nervous smile before rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think Sasuke is going to make it tonight."

"Unfortunately, Sasuke's mission has him delayed outside the village." The proximity of Kakashi's voice made Sakura jump. When she turned, she realized that he stood just inside the doorway behind them. Their gazes locked, and Kakashi's eyes widened, perhaps only just now realizing that she'd been the one standing with Naruto. While pink hair was unusual in the village, a few girls had started imitating Sakura after the war. She hated it, but the element of surprise was nice.

Ino unwound her arm from Sakura's and moved away to speak to someone that Sakura didn't recognize. Completely oblivious of the tension of the moment, Naruto caught Kakashi with his other arm and pulled them both into a hug. Sakura felt the warmth of Kakashi's chest against her side. "I'm glad you two made it, at least."

Kakashi pulled away, chuckling in the back of his throat. "Of course I came, I have to keep an eye on you kids to make sure you don't get into any trouble."

"We aren't kids," Sakura grumbled, challenging Kakashi with a glare through her mascara lengthened lashes. "We're adults now."

"That's right, sensei. We don't have to listen to you anymore." Naruto laughed, giving Kakashi a cheeky grin.

Kakashi frowned, the barest movements of his mask. "I'm still Hokage, though."

"For now." Naruto's banter eased the conversation into playful jabs that allowed Sakura to stay silent. Kakashi hadn't even responded to her comment about being an adult now. Her heart sank lower in her chest.

As the men exchanged barbs, Ino reappeared from wherever she'd been. Grabbing Sakura's hand, she led them to the bar. "It's pointless," Sakura complained, leaning close so that the words would only be loud enough for Ino. "He'll always view me as a kid. I'd be better off chasing Sasuke."

"Absolutely not," Ino hissed, vehemence dripping from her voice as she raised a hand to order drinks. "Sasuke isn't even on the radar for you. Do not put yourself through that again."

Sakura nodded and toyed with the silver teardrop earring that Ino had loaned her. She knew that Sasuke was a bad idea. The boy had never acknowledged her, not really. And now, it was the same with Kakashi. At best Kakashi saw her as the child that he'd mentored years ago. At worst, the annoying girl that she'd been during those early days. She'd never change that.

"Let me tell you my secret, Forehead." Ino shoved a shot glass into Sakura's hand. "It just takes five seconds of insane courage to get whatever you want. That's it. Just five seconds of bravery, then the hard part is over. You either have the thing you want or you don't, but at least you'll know."

"Is that how you landed Sai?" Sakura asked, closing her grip around the glass of liquid courage without questioning what was inside it. The idea that Ino actually liked Sai and wanted to be with him when there were so many men that she could have had was something that Sakura had trouble wrapping her mind around.

Ino laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "Yes, Sai. And, all the others."

Gossip suggested that Ino had worked her way through half of the eligible shinobi in the village. There was a great deal of truth to it. Ino had dated Shikamaru for a couple of weeks before the pair decided that friendship was less troublesome than a relationship. She and Kiba had been fireworks from the beginning, fighting almost constantly. Choji was too gentle, Lee too exhausting, Shino too quiet, and the list went on and on. Somehow, Ino landed on Sai and found that the man matched her surprisingly well. Sakura had already noticed the girl looking for him in the crowd.

"Drink," Ino commanded, nodding toward the alcohol. Sakura steeled her nerves and tipped the glass up. The liquid burned the entire way down, making her gasp for a breath. Ino clapped her on the back. "Good, now let's go and find someone to make him jealous over."

"Ino, no." Sakura pulled away from her best friend with a firm shake of her head. "It doesn't matter. It's just a silly crush."

The look on the blonde's face suggested that she didn't believe Sakura's excuse, but she didn't force it. Sakura let her gaze wander over the people brought together to celebrate Naruto's birthday. He had touched so many lives, and since the war, most people recognized that. Naruto had wanted to do something at Ichiraku, but the stand was too small for all their friends. They'd made arrangements for the celebration to be held here, but white bowls of ramen dotted most of the tables.

Kakashi drew Sakura's eyes like a beacon. He stood in the shadows beside Captain Yamato, heads close together as they spoke. It had surprised Sakura to learn that the men were old friends, especially since Kakashi held so many people at a distance. Sakura and Naruto had grown closer to him, of course, but there didn't seem to be many others. Tsunade and the other jonin perhaps, but the ease between Kakashi and Yamato spoke of actual friendship. Sakura felt a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn't it be that easy for her?

Ino leaned close, the scent of alcohol drifting from her lips. "You know, Yamato isn't bad looking either."

Sakura considered the words. While Yamato didn't hold the aura of mystery that Kakashi did, his easy smile and kind eyes made him attractive in his own way. Even so, no matter how much Sakura watched the pair, her eyes strayed to Kakashi. As she'd expected, he'd worn his uniform to the party. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up against the heat of the room, while his hands were tucked into the pockets of matching pants. Kakashi's mask remained in place, of course, but the headband that used to slant across half of his face was missing. Two charcoal eyes stared out at the room, silver hair falling into them.

"Oh, it's definitely just a little crush," Ino teased, pulling Sakura from her longing gaze. "Why don't you just go and talk to him? Ask him to dance or ask him back to your place. Just do something besides staring at him."

When Sakura started to protest, Ino rolled her eyes. "Come on, I've seen you kick ass so many times, but you're scared to talk to a boy? The worst thing he can do is turn you down. And, if that happens, it's his loss."

It isn't that easy, Sakura started to argue. Only, she knew that it was. She'd been pining after Kakashi for months, treasuring stupid, little moments that probably meant nothing: the way that his arms had curled around her on the training field, how his eyes lit up when he laughed at her joke about Tsunade trying to kill them both with reports, or the startle when her fingers had brushed his wrist. Those things made her wonder if there might be something more, but Kakashi was impossible to read. The sudden intake of breath when Sakura touched him could just have easily been discomfort as desire.

"I think I need another drink," Sakura declared, putting away the miserable thoughts for another day.

It didn't take long for the pleasant warmth of alcohol to loosen the tension that seemed permanently attached to Sakura's shoulders. She relaxed enough to dance a couple of turns with Naruto. He was far more awkward on the dance floor than any shinobi had the right to be. After two dances, Sakura begged off and pushed him toward Hinata. A few months ago, the girl had finally gotten brave enough to let Naruto know that she liked him. The pair was slowly turning into a couple, but the transition was painful to watch. They were both too shy for their own good.

Sakura stumbled back toward the bar, surprised to admit that she was having more fun than she'd thought she would, even if Kakashi ignored her. As she reached for her glass, Ino flashed a pleasant grin that warned Sakura that the girl was coming up with a plan that Sakura wasn't going to like. Without explaining anything, Ino linked their arms and dragged Sakura back into the crowd. Three steps into the walk, once she realized where they were going, Sakura tried to stop the inevitable. But, it was too late. Ino stopped beside Kakashi and Yamato.

The men looked up in surprise, their conversation stopping abruptly. Sakura felt Kakashi's gaze on her face for several heartbeats before it slid toward Ino's. With another signature grin, the blond moved into Yamato's personal space. "You sent my boyfriend on a mission just before the party, and now I have nobody to dance with. It seems only fair that you take his place." Ino held out a hand expectantly.

"Um-I-uh-it was unavoidable," Yamato stammered, a delicate pink blush tinting his cheeks. Sakura almost rolled her eyes. It was pathetic to watch how easily Ino turned him, or any man for that matter, into a stuttering mess simply by batting her eyelashes. She'd thought Yamato was better than that.

To Sakura's surprise, it was Kakashi who spoke next. "I think she has a solid case." Yamato gaped at the man, but Kakashi continued as if he hadn't seen it. "You deprived her of enjoying the evening; you should make up for it. Within reason, of course."

As the implication hit home, the pink on Yamato's cheeks deepened to crimson. Sakura struggled not to laugh at his expression. Ino cleared her throat, moving her hand closer. For a moment, Sakura wondered if Kakashi was going to have to push the man forward. Finally, Yamato dipped his head and took Ino's hand. Sakura couldn't stop her mirth as the pair disappeared onto the dance floor. "He's going to be furious with you later, you know that right?"

"It's good for him. Yamato is too shy." Kakashi leaned his shoulders against the wall, and for a moment Sakura couldn't take her eyes off of the smooth stretch of his body and the way his armor shifted with the movement. Half a second later, she realized that he'd said something. Deciding that it probably wasn't important, she nodded and he continued. "Of course, she doesn't mean anything by it, does she?"

Sakura shook her head, watching as Ino attempted to guide Yamato's hands toward her hips as she moved to the music. He kept moving them back to her waist, embarrassment obvious. Sakura chuckled under her breath. "No, she's quite taken with Sai actually."

"Our Sai?" Kakashi asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Sakura nodded, watching as Yamato finally relaxed into the dance and loosened up a bit. "She and Sai balance each other well, like Naruto and Hinata."

Kakashi followed Sakura's gaze toward the bar where Naruto and Hinata were talking. The blond leaned against the edge, telling some kind of story while the girl gazed up adoringly. Two years ago, she'd been too frightened and embarrassed to speak with him, and Naruto too stupid to realize why. With a little gentle prodding, they'd finally caught on.

Kakashi made a sound that might have been agreement in the back of his throat. "You're all pairing off these days, falling in love and getting married."

"Not all of us," Sakura grumbled. Frustration bled into her voice as she continued. "Some of us accepted the weight of duty instead."

A silver eyebrow arched skyward as Kakashi turned to face Sakura. A look of understanding crossed his features, but Sakura doubted that he realized she was talking about him as well. Undeniably handsome, Kakashi could have his pick of women in the village, but he remained alone. He had thrown himself into the role of hokage, even though he hated it. Sakura had done the same at the hospital, though she enjoyed her work for the most part. The two of them weren't as different as he seemed to think.

A stir went through the room. Naruto pushed away from the bar, his voice cutting through the din of music and conversation. "You made it!'

As much as Sakura wanted to continue admiring Kakashi, her attention drifted toward Naruto. He stood in the doorway, arms thrown around-Sakura's mind temporarily shorted out, taking several seconds to catch up with her eyes. Sasuke stood in the spill of light, Naruto's arms wrapped around his shoulders. Raven dark hair and equally black eyes swept through the crowd, taking in everyone and everything. His gaze slid over Sakura, then returned and lingered.

Despite everything, Sakura blushed under Sasuke's gaze. Beside her, Kakashi shifted away from the wall. A hand pressed almost imperceptibly against Sakura's lower back as Naruto approached, Sasuke trailing behind like a shadow. Sakura half turned toward Kakashi.

Naruto interrupted the pair before Sakura could get her thoughts in order. "Look guys, Sasuke made it back in time."

"So, he did," Kakashi answered for both of them, voice cool but not quite unfriendly. "Welcome back."

Sasuke turned, oozing arrogance as he inclined his head toward Kakashi. Dark eyes roved over Sakura a second time, an almost smile curling his lips. Even so, Sakura read the tension in his shoulders. Despite the years that had passed, Sasuke remained something of a pariah in the village. There were some groups who would never forgive or forget the time that he had spent trying to destroy the Leaf, despite Naruto's efforts to change their opinions. Sakura knew that Kakashi had helped save Sasuke from execution or life in prison, but the Hokage's intervention had ended there.

"Sasuke!" Ino appeared from nowhere, throwing her arms around Sasuke in a hug that the man shrunk away from. "Welcome back."

Sakura flashed her friend a thankful smile at the interruption. "You're looking well," Ino continued, pulling all of Sasuke's attention to herself by keeping her hands on his upper arms. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Maybe later," Sasuke answered, voice sounding strained as he shrugged away from Ino's touch. When she released him, the man turned and smiled. "Hello, Sakura."

Sakura couldn't remember how to draw a breath. A thick strand of black fell across Sasuke's eye, adding an air of mystery to his already captivating appearance. Warmth suffused her face when he moved closer, near enough to reach out and brush her cheek if he'd wanted. "Hi," she answered, toying with a silver bracelet circling one wrist.

Sasuke slid between Sakura and Kakashi, angling his body to face hers. "How have you been?"

"I've been doing well." Sakura's answer barely scratched the surface of everything that had happened in her life since the last time she saw Sasuke. She couldn't seem to remember a single event that she wanted to talk about. Yamato approached the small group and squeezed in beside Kakashi while running an appraising eye over Sasuke. He didn't acknowledge the Uchiha's presence. Instead, he leaned closer to Kakashi and whispered something in his ear.

Pulling her attention away from the exchange, Sakura realized that she'd been asked something. It would be rude not to keep talking to Sasuke, so she smiled. "How about you? How have you been?"

"I stay busy following up on leads," Sasuke answered, revealing nothing about his time outside of the village. Maybe he thought that Sakura wouldn't accept his reasons for leaving her behind, or maybe, he didn't care if she did.

After all, how could Sakura expect Sasuke to understand the hours of work that she poured into the hospital, sometimes losing a patient despite her best efforts? Would he care that she pushed herself in training as hard as she's ever done in case they went back to war? Sakura imagined Sasuke teasing her efforts to create orphanages in Konoha. Would he understand Sakura's version of sacrifice when it didn't align with his?

Sakura's eyes drifted back to her group of friends. Naruto stood beside Ino with a silly grin on his face, undoubtedly because Sakura and Sasuke were talking together. He still believed the two of them could make it work somehow. Yamato and Kakashi watched them both without seeming to do so. Sakura couldn't help but wonder if they deemed Sasuke as a security risk, even after all this time. Her gaze settled on the tension in Kakashi's jaw, wondering why he seemed on edge.

Kakashi understood the passion that drove Sakura to fight for those causes. Or, if not, he humored her. Sakura and Kakashi had worked hand in hand to train additional medical shinobi, create orphanages, and work through various issues at the hospital. She'd assumed that Kakashi wanted to see the same outcome that she did. Would Sasuke want that? Did it matter? He wouldn't be in the village long enough for it to make any difference.

Despite the way that things between them had changed, Sasuke still reduced Sakura to a lovesick teenager. It wasn't that her feelings had stayed the same, but Sakura had spent half of her life chasing after Sasuke. She couldn't shake the memory of nipping at his heels, of being willing to throw everything away if he'd only acknowledge her. As Sasuke spoke, Sakura's mind responded on autopilot, answering with soft laughs and smiles.

After several minutes, Ino caught Sakura's attention and half nodded toward Kakashi. He and Yamato had fallen silent, allowing the conversation to flow around them without interruption. Sakura raised her shoulders in a helpless shrug, silently asking what she was supposed to do about the situation. Ino frowned, then leaned in to speak. "So, Sasuke, did you know that Naruto and Hinata are dating?"

The question cut off the conversation. Surprise flitted across Sasuke's face as he looked over at Naruto. The blond's cheeks flamed crimson and he sputtered over his words "Well, Ino is dating Sai," he managed, red from his hairline to his chin.

Ino grinned, tossing her long hair over one shoulder with an air of dismissal. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Sai happens to be far more interesting than you'd anticipate. Not to mention adventurous."

The suggestive nature of Ino's comment made Naruto choke on his breath. His eyes bulged and Sakura couldn't help but laugh; he was still so innocent. Naruto grabbed Sasuke's arm. "Come on, it's definitely time for a drink."

Without waiting for an answer, Naruto pulled the Uchiha toward the barkeeper and further away from Ino's insinuations. Laughing, the girl watched them go. Then, she turned back to Yamato. "I thought you were going to dance with me? And, you," Ino studied Kakashi, "should dance with Sakura so she isn't left alone over here."

For all the nudging that Kakashi had done when Ino asked Yamato to dance, the man seemed less than enthused about taking his own advice. "It isn't befitting of the Hokage to indulge in-"

"Oh no you don't, senpai," Yamato interrupted, already pulling Kakashi away from the wall. "I did my duty, and now it's time for you to do yours. Off you go."

Yamato's brown eyes shone with an inordinate amount of amusement, and Sakura didn't know whether to be thankful that he was pushing Kakashi toward the dance floor, or embarrassed at being some type of twisted payback. Either way, the indecision lasted only a moment. Ino grabbed Yamato's hand and guided him toward the dancers, leaving Sakura alone with Kakashi on the edge of the room.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face Sakura. Embarrassment raised the temperature of the room several degrees until it felt impossible to draw a breath. "You don't have to dance with me," she murmured, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.

"Ino and Yamato would never let me hear the end of it if we didn't." Kakashi held out one hand, and Sakura slid hers into it. Her pulse pounded in her ears when he leaned closer. "Besides, we only have to dance long enough to get them off our backs."

Sakura didn't trust her voice to speak without breaking, so she nodded and followed Kakashi onto the dance floor. Music blared over the speakers, bass line making her heart pound in tempo. She drew a deep breath and looked into the eyes that had been hidden for so long. Even now, months later, Sakura hadn't gotten used to seeing more of Kakashi's face. She remembered the intensity of his gaze on the training field and the way that she'd wanted to pull him close and lose themselves in the storm.

Just five seconds of insane courage, Ino's voice whispered in the back of Sakura's mind. She could press her body against Kakashi's under the guise of dancing and admit that she wanted more than that. Butterflies the size of elephants trampled over Sakura's chest. If Kakashi rejected her, it would hurt, but she could mask the pain long enough to make it home. Then, she'd be free to deal with fallout. She had done the same thing over Sasuke nearly a year ago. But, if Sakura never took a chance and told Kakashi, she'd never know if there could have been anything between them.

Kakashi spoke, interrupting Sakura's momentum. "You look different tonight."

"Ino begged me to let her try something special for Naruto's party." Sakura chewed her lip, wondering if the words were technically a lie. She wanted to look more enticing as well, more like Ino and less like herself, in hopes that she'd capture Kakashi's attention.

The tempo of the music increased; Sakura allowed her body to follow. She felt the hem of her dress riding up her thigh and tugged it down with one hand. Kakashi followed the movement then snapped his eyes back to her face. He asked something, but the words were lost in the din of the crowd. When Sakura scrunched up her face in confusion, he leaned closer. "For Sasuke?"

For you, Sakura thought, holding the words tight between her lips. The accusation in Kakashi's tone surprised her. "I didn't know he'd be here."

Kakashi inclined his head at the words, expression unreadable. He rested his hands at Sakura's waist without a hint of familiarity or desire. Kakashi moved to the music, half a foot between their bodies. Sakura flashed back to the way his arms had wrapped around her like a glove on the training field. He moved on protective instinct, not to get close to me. The realization left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sakura surrendered to the rhythm of the music, turning to present her back to Kakashi's chest so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. She closed her eyes, willing the ache in her heart to stop. This entire situation was so stupid. Ino was right about everything; Sakura needed to tell Kakashi how she felt so that she could pick up the pieces and move on. She had done it before, and she could do it again.

Fingers curled against Sakura's hips, the thin fabric of her dress hardly masking the feel of Kakashi's touch. Sakura wasn't sure if he pulled her back, or if she moved of her own accord, but she felt the warmth of his breath against her neck. She focused on the sensation, electricity rushing through her body. His damn flak vest separated Sakura from the heat of his chest, but she imagined that she could feel it anyway.

The song ended and the weight of Kakashi's hands fell away as if it had never been. Light pulsed around them as another song started. Sakura turned back to face Kakashi, drawing a shaky breath. "Do you think that dance met their requirements, or should we do another, just to be sure?"

Sakura's name left Kakashi's lips in a strangled sound. Whatever he'd been planning to say was lost when someone bumped hard into his back. He stumbled through the almost nonexistent space between them. Sakura heard an apology, but she couldn't match the voice to a face before her arms were full of Kakashi. She stumbled backward under his weight, tripped over her heels, and then they were falling. Vaguely, some panicked part of Sakura's mind wondered if she was about to give everyone in the room a free peep show.

Kakashi twisted in the air so that Sakura wouldn't be crushed beneath him. His left shoulder absorbed most of the impact half a second before she hit his chest. The air whooshed out of Kakashi's lungs in a soft hiss as their bodies pressed together. Exposure forgotten, Sakura felt his hands grip her, one near her shoulder and the other dangerously low on her back. They were close enough for their noses to brush, Kakashi's eyes wide. The charcoal tone wasn't as dark as Sakura had anticipated, but shot with silver through the iris. She noticed the outline of Kakashi's lips beneath his mask. Kami, it would be so simple to—

"Hokage-sama?" Genma's familiar voice cut across Sakura's thoughts. The man pushed through the crowd to reach Kakashi's side, undoubtedly on guard duty for the night. Sakura raised her head to glare at his poorly conceived timing.

Kakashi released Sakura like he'd been burned, hands coming to the floor instead as he pushed into a sitting position. She half fell into his lap from the sudden change of position. "I'm fine," he answered the unasked question. "I'm hardly old enough to get injured from falling down."

"Especially beneath a beautiful woman," Genma quipped, flashing his senbon-studded grin. Then, his leer slid toward the woman in question and his expression changed to something contemplative as he offered a hand. "Oh, hey, Sakura."

Sakura had no choice but to accept Genma's offered hand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she let the tokujo pull her away from Kakashi. Belatedly, she remembered to adjust the slinky dress lower on her thighs and higher over her chest. Hopefully everything had happened so quickly that she didn't have any reason to be embarrassed. A small crowd gathered around them. Kakashi pushed through them as the music started back up; Sakura followed him to the edge of the room.

"You aren't hurt are you, Hokage-sama," Ino gushed as she hurried to the pair's side. Her brow creased with worry when Kakashi tried to wave her off. Sakura barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her best friend. The ploy was obvious.

"I'm fine," Kakashi grumbled, looking distinctively embarrassed by the attention. "I'm not made of glass."

"Still," Ino pressed, reaching out like she might touch Kakashi's arm. "You hit your shoulder hard when you fell. I saw it."

Sakura could see the wheels turning in Ino's mind. No, please, Ino, don't do this. Sakura's silent plea fell on deaf ears. Kakashi raised his arm to prove that he could, but Ino didn't drop the subject. "You should let Sakura take a look at it, just to make sure. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

And, there it is, Sakura grumbled internally. Annoyance bled through Kakashi's embarrassment as he tried to wave the blonde's concerns away. Sakura interrupted the exchange before it could get out of hand. "Doesn't anyone care about me? I fell too."

"I could take a look at you," Genma offered with a cheeky grin from his position at Kakashi's shoulder. "In fact, it'd be my pleasure."

"No," Sakura and Kakashi answered in the same breath, dragging a knowing laugh from Genma. Kakashi looked almost as surprised as Sakura felt. Cheeks warming at the insinuation, she continued. "I don't need anyone to look at me, I am fine. But, shouldn't you be more worried about me?"

Genma chuckled in the back of his throat. "Because you're such a delicate little flower? I saw the damage you did to the training grounds the other night. I think I'd rather take my chances with Kakashi, to be honest."

"Probably for the best; she's stronger than you think." Sakura's stomach clenched at the unexpected praise from Sasuke. She hadn't noticed that he and Naruto had rejoined them in the chaos.

"Damn right she is," Ino answered, fighting to keep the attention on anything but Sasuke. Her eyes met Sakura's with silent pleading. While Sakura knew what Ino wanted, some things were easier said than done. Sasuke watched them with a smug satisfaction on his face that Sakura couldn't begin to understand as Ino continued. "What will Tsunade say if you leave Hokage-sama injured until tomorrow?"

Kakashi shook his head as Sakura groaned under her breath. She loved Ino, but sometimes the woman went a little overboard with her matchmaking. "Tsunade would say that it's nothing, and no more than I deserve if I can't keep my feet under me. But, if it'll put your mind at ease, I'll get it checked out."

"It would," Ino breathed out, her concern almost palpable. Sakura wondered why the woman didn't become an actress; she certainly had a knack for it. Ino pulled her forward. "There's no time like the present."

Kakashi cast a withering glance at Ino, then faced Sakura. For a moment, the rest of the room disappeared. Even the overwhelming presence of Sasuke shrank to insignificance. The sheepishness that Sakura had noticed earlier had evaporated, replaced by something darker in Kakashi's gaze. Though Sakura couldn't put her finger on it, the expression made chill bumps erupt on her arms. "Would you mind?"

It wasn't the first time that Sakura had healed Kakashi, not by a long shot. But, it was the first time that he'd asked. Sakura's heart did somersaults in her chest. "I don't mind," she breathed, forcing strength into her words. "But, not here. I need somewhere quieter, with better light."

Kakashi inclined his head as if the words made perfect sense. Naruto groaned, his voice turning whiny. "You're going to miss my party? This is the first time we've all been together in years."

"We won't be gone long," Kakashi assured the boy. "Just long enough to satisfy Sakura."

Ino choked on her laugh, eyes shining. Sakura's cheeks flamed crimson at the insinuation. Kakashi either didn't notice or didn't want to draw attention to it. He nodded toward the door. "Come on, let's get this over with, shall we?"

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

As she and Kakashi emerged from the pub, Sakura drew a breath of the chilly air. Naruto had been the only one to raise an objection to them leaving the party together, but Sakura felt the heat from a dozen gazes as they crossed the room. When they stepped into the street, Sakura's hand slipped out of Kakashi's, and neither made a move to retake it. He stared at the darkness, the stars above, and the benches by the door as they stood under the hazy light of the neon sign.

"I'm sorry that this took you away from the party," Kakashi began with a sigh. When his gaze turned to Sakura, it swept over her body in a way that suggested that he hadn't missed the tiniest facet of Ino's hard work. "You clearly wanted to be there."

"I can always go back later," Sakura answered, knowing that she wouldn't. She didn't want to face Sasuke or Ino after leaving with Kakashi, regardless of what happened next. Kakashi's shoulders seemed to tense at the response, but Sakura wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not. Undeniable nervousness settled in her gut.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "You don't really need to look at my shoulder. It's fine, but I needed an excuse to get out of there."

"I know," Sakura agreed. She would have realized if Kakashi was hurt, probably before he did. "But, I gave my word, so we should at least check it."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Kakashi moved down the street as he asked the question, forcing Sakura to follow on his heels. He didn't turn back when he continued. "Or, would my apartment be okay? It's closer."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat. She knew where Kakashi's apartment was, of course, but she'd never set foot inside of it. That he'd allow her into his world, even for a moment, stunned her. He continued walking, shoulders tight and hands stuffed into his pockets as he waited for an answer. "Your apartment is fine."

The silence gave Sakura unwanted time to think back over the night's events. She had seen appreciation in more than a few eyes when they noticed the changes that Ino had made, but she couldn't be sure that any of it had registered with Kakashi. He'd said she looked different, not better, not beautiful, just different. That word could mean a million things, or nothing at all. Ino was right though, if Sakura couldn't have Kakashi, she could always go home with someone else. Hell, even Sasuke had noticed and appreciated the extra effort in her appearance. There was only one problem, Sakura didn't want to go home with anyone else.

Sakura nearly walked into Kakashi's back when he stopped in front of her and nodded toward the steps leading up to his apartment. Though she knew it was entirely platonic, Sakura's heart pounded in her throat as she followed him higher. Kakashi unlocked the door, flicked the lights on, and pushed it wider. Sakura slid under his arm and into the room, taking in a million details at once.

Kakashi closed the door behind them and bent to remove his sandals. Sakura admired the smooth stretch of his body for a heartbeat longer than she should have. Tearing her eyes away, she rested one hand on the wall and bent down to unbuckle her heels. It felt good to be out of them, if it was only going to be for a few minutes.

"Does your shoulder hurt at all? They're notoriously fragile as far as joints go." When Kakashi didn't speak, Sakura opened her mouth to repeat the question, then had another idea. Five seconds of insane courage. She took two steps forward and reached for Kakashi's arm, the healing glow surrounding her hands.

When Sakura touched his shoulder, Kakashi startled and jerked away. 'I'm fine," he ground out. "You don't have to—"

"Your heart is pounding," Sakura responded in awe, letting her fingers fall away from his arm. The touch had been brief, but the spike in Kakashi's pulse was obvious.

Kakashi forced a harsh breath through his nose. "You're supposed to be checking my shoulder, not my heart."

Five seconds of insane courage. "Your shoulder," Sakura repeated, trying to think over the blood roaring in her ears. Just five seconds. She reached for the straps of Kakashi's flak vest.

[achliegh]

Golden

(Sorry if this Chapter is lack luster :/ )

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Ladies Love Country Boys

Bonfire Playlist: Spotify, Youtube

Watching Airplanes

Chapter 2:

Cowboy Sweet Ass sent you a Location

New Message from Cowboy Sweet Ass

See you there ;)

Finn was nervous, he wasn’t gonna lie, Logan and Him are leaving tomorrow for Gryff and this is the last night they can see Leo. Who, neither of them will admit this, has kindly wiggled his way into their brains for every minute of everyday. Sometimes to break a long silence between the two of them they will talk about Leo. How they were going to cope when they can’t see him again is unknown and something he didn’t want to think about.

They hadn’t actually seen Leo in the past five days, with their training schedule and Leo helping set up a charity arena for the thing they were supposed to meet him at tonight, it was just late night calls that were still kinda awkward at times. But always had them smiling as they fell asleep.

Walking up the dirt path, where the uber had dropped them off, Logan and Finn weren’t sure they were in the right place until they saw the huge crowd gathered around a tall metal fence with bleachers and an announcers corner that's up on a hydraulic lift, speakers set up so people can hear the quick talking of the men commenting on whatever was happening.

Horses and people on them were everywhere. This causes Logan a lot of stress, as someone who is terrified of horses… This is not ideal. Especially when one is trotting toward them at a scary fast speed.

Finn recognized Clayton immediately, trotting over at a leisurely pace on a cool looking horse he waves. He notices Logan hiding himself completely behind Finn’s back. Finn held his hand out for Logan to take and squeeze if everything got too much for him. Logan wasn’t good in big crowds.

“Well look who it is!” Clayton hops off his living vehicle and patting her neck. “Let me introduce you to my babe, This” He gestures towards the mare, “Is Leroy, she is a Blanket Appaloosa! Have you guys met Peanut yet? He’s chilling with Eloise, Leo’s mom, you better hope he likes you or else… yeah, or else.” Clay flashes them his slightly crooked but stupidly white smile as he absentmindedly pets Leroy’s neck.

Feeling a squeeze of his hand he looks back to see an absolutely terrified Logan, not knowing about his fear of horses Finn is just confused. So, he goes into a ‘ get Logan alone’ mind set.

“We will find you in a minute, we’re gonna explore!” Finn smiles back and Clayton nods as he swings his leg back over Leroy and clicks his tongue so she struts back towards the group of other yeehaws on their own horses, they all had numbers pinned to their backs which was weird but Finn guessed Leo would explain later. Claytons was CR243, and it looked like it was about to fall off. He notices how someone would go in real fast and then come out after a minute or two. The announcer talked too fast for him to catch.

Leading Logan to a more open area he turns to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

“Ummmm, J'ai peur des chevaux….” Logan isn’t looking him in the eyes and has an embarrassed flush to his face. Finn, having no clue what he said, gently grabs his chin to make him look at him, Lo hasn’t run his finger through his hair yet so that means he isn’t nervous around Finn at least. Fixing Logan with a slightly irritated but still worried look, Logan sighs and tries to say something but instead what comes out is a terrified yelp as something takes his hat off his head and pulls some of his hair at the same time, then drops it at his feet.

Whipping around and jumping into Finn’s arms bridal style Logan shrieks as he is met with a blonde horse that almost looks smug. The little splotchy white stripes on its snoot may make it look kinda cute but Logan knows what can happen if you get on a horse's bad side. It happened to Sydney, he didn’t need it to happen to him too.

“Peanut!” A very tall and beautiful older woman walks over to them laughing a little, she has a hearing aid in her left ear and soft blue eyes bright with amusement stare them down. “Sorry Y’all, he likes to find new people to mess with.” She smiles and there is just something so familiar about those deep dimples and sharp cheekbones. She is wearing tight jeans with knee high army green cowboy boots, a white button up with a black cowboy hat contrasting the golden curls falling out from under it. She is wearing a sash with the words ‘Miss Louisiana 1971’ the wrinkles on her face didn’t make her look old and crinkly like people like to think, but more like a gracefully aging woman. She holds her hand out to Finn for him to shake, Logan is still in his arms so it is as much of an invitation to him as Finn. “I’m Eloise, this is my son’s horse.” She looks them up and down after shaking both their hands. “He would like you two.” She smiles one last time, giving them a giant wink and leads Peanut away from them back to the bullpens where they spot Leo sitting on the top of a fence talking to a couple of people.

Finn looks at Logan and sets him down.

“So.. horses?”

“Shut up”

“You go for a cowboy and are afraid of horses!” Finn is bent over laughing and clutching his stomach while Logan crosses his arms and looks around annoyed after he dusted off his hat and put it back on his head.

“What’s so funny?” they look over to see Leo in full get up. Smiling bright, showing off his chipped tooth. His hair was flattened by a black sturdy cowboy hat, his blue button up vibrant under his black vest. The vest had a couple of logos stitched into it for Absolut Vodka, Mt. Dew, and Ariat…. Leo was sponsored? He was also wearing some jeans that fit him just right around his booty that they could see through his assless black chaps that had iridescent tassels on them, with his black boots and belt to match. His silver buckle stood out with the light reflecting off it.

“Wow… you look great.” Logan just melts into Leo’s side when Leo wraps an arm around his shoulders. “But tell Finn to stop being a jerk.” Logan put on his best pout when looking up at the taller man, who looked at him with a look that made his heart feel like it was about to jump out of his chest. It didn’t alarm him though, it was nice to feel like this. But it can’t last forever.

“What's he doing that's so mean.” Leo turns his attention to Finn who is smiling at them like he's watching two kittens cuddle into each other. His eyes bright with happiness, his smiles wide.

“He’s making fun of me because I’m scared of horses.” Logan wraps his arms around Leo’s waist and squishes his cheek into his chest to look as cute as possible, so Leo will be on his side. Which… fails.

“You’re afraid of horses!” Leo hugs Logan as he starts laughing, smacking a kiss on the top of Logan’s annoyed forehead and squeezes him. “You’re so cute.” Suddenly they hear numbers coming over other speakers and Leo perks up. “Oh I’m up soon! I hope y’all are gonna stay and watch because I would love to take you to the bonfire tonight.” He pulls Finn into the embrace and gives them both a quick peck on the lips, smiling when they chase his lips. “There should be an open spot in the bleachers or, you could watch from Peanut.”

“Bleachers!” Logan gets out of Leo’s arms and starts pulling both the boys towards the crowd without horses. Leo helps them find a spot next to some girls who flirt with Leo but he has no fucking clue. He is just focused on getting Finn and Logan a good spot.

“Alright, my number is BR11710, so when you hear that you’ll know I’m up! I think Clay might come and find you, he had a good run earlier wrangling those troublemaking claves, so keep an eye out for him.” He smiles and climbs down the bleachers gracefully until the last small step where his spur gets caught and he has to yank it out of the cevous it got stuck in. Looking back up at Finn and Logan his cheeks were red as he shrugged and sauntered off towards the chutes.

“Hola losers!” Clayton plops down above with and slaps a hand on their shoulders. “Excited to see him ride? Or have you already? Actually I would know because we overshare way too much.” Smiling, Clayton is covered in dirt and his cowboy hat has been traded out for a ball cap and his button up taken off to be just a white tank top. A tall pale girl sat down with Clayton and was scrolling on her phone looking uninterested. Clayton sits up and wraps an arm around her waist. “Oh this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” She looks up and gives them an irritated wave before going back to her phone.

“Ride? What’s he doing?” Finn looks at him confused after sharing a look with Logan about the irritated girlfriend, then they hear the announcers call Leo's number.

“Alrighty ladies and gentlefolk! We have something special for y’all! One of our very own PBR riders is here to ride the roughest toughest bull of the day! Ole Forty Days!” The crowd cheers as a confused Finn and Logan look at Clayton who whoops and hollers for his bestie. Whistling with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth.

“Alright Jimmy lets get in some commentary before the ride starts, Leo Knut is a 19 year old Professional Bull Rider, his Mother is Eloise Knut also known as Miss Rodeo of 1970 and Miss Louisiana of 1971. His father was Wyatt Knut, Air Force Veteran who was also Leo’s biggest role model.”

“Was?” Logan whispers and gives a sad look to Finn who is busy watching Leo, he is on this tank of an animal, large, white, horns the size of his whole forearm. Leo was adjusting the way he is sitting and has an underside grip on the rope around the bull, wrapping it around his palm to make sure there isn’t a tether that can be stepped on and yank him off.

“Ole Forty Days is the only PBR bull here today, worth millions he is undefeated 32-0 in his career this year. Will Leo who is 30-2 this year be able to stay on those eight seconds.”

Leo hits the challenge button and the gate flies open, Ole Forte days is wild! Finn is automatically on his feet as he watches Leo with his hand up in the air, eyes hard from focusing and counting in his head. Forte turns a 45 degree buck and just about tosses Leo but his grip is so tight that he lasts those eight seconds. The announcers went crazy the entire time.

As he dismounts the still bucking bull his wrist gets caught in the rope he was holding earlier because of the way his glove is falling apart. The rodeo clowns distract the bull fast enough for Leo to get himself detached, falling on the ground. The bull tosses Leo onto the ground and just misses stomping on his ankles. Leo hops onto the fence, the adrenaline is pumping through his veins and his eyes are bright as he searches for the boys in the stand watching him with fear etched into their faces. When his eyes met Logan’s the fear turned into relief and Leo felt the adrenaline making his heart beat even faster.

After Forte is corralled back into the pen to have the rope around his hips removed Leo jumps off the fence and takes his hat off bowing to the crowd, and they love it, whistling and whoops are heard. He points to Finn, Logan and Clayton. Clayton is so excited and starts dragging the other two down the bleachers leaving Ashley behind. Leo doesn’t like her at all so it's fine. Leo turns around and walks towards sports medicine and lets them take a look at his wrist. As his adrenaline starts to fade away the tweak in his wrist starts to bother him as the medic wraps it up.

“You just ruined Forte’s career!” Clay hugs him from the side and picks him up all excited, his girlfriend who decided to join looks at them unapprovingly. Finn and Logan basically tackle Leo to the ground once Clay puts him down. One on each side of him, balanced.

“Are you insane! That could have killed you!” Finn is shaking a laughing Leo by his collar as Logan examines the way his wrist is wrapped.

“I know, I technically wrecked at the end but I still got my eight seconds!” He smiles and takes his hand from Logan, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

“You never told us you rode bulls! Leo, a little heads up would have been appreciated!” Logan whacks him on the back of the head after they stand up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” Leo puts an arm around them and kisses their temples. They had an idea. Where to do it was the question.

The rodeo ended not long after Leo’s ride, the charities the winners chose would be given a five thousand dollar check courtesy of the Knut’s. After Leo was done taking down the arena, a large pile of wood was set up with large equipment. Leo pulled a Clayton and took off his chaps, vest, button down, and hat off so he was wearing a white shirt and a ball cap.

Leo made up for scaring Finn and Logan by pulling them into the back seat of his truck. Leo sitting in the middle of the seat with Finn straddling one leg, hunched over and sucking on Leo’s neck. Logan straddled Leo’s other leg and kissed him with a ferocity that made them both groan. Leo rested his hands in Finn’s hair and on Logan’s hip. Pulling away Leo turns his head to face Finn, guiding him from his neck to lips. He feels Logan push his hand underneath his shirt and smirks into his kiss with Finn. Moving his hands to squeeze both of their asses, causing Logan’s breath to hitch and Finn to moan. He is about to suggest something spicy when a knock on the window alerts them that the party has started.

Why does Clay always have to stick to his word? Leo asked him to let them know when it was time to move his truck to have the tailgate facing the fire, and now was that time. Leo’s head thumps back onto the seat as he lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Well, I guess we have a party to attend… I’m gonna get so drunk.” He smiles and gives his boys one last kiss before he ushers them out of the truck so he can get out of the backseat to move it.

Finn wanders over to Clayton who has Ashley under his arm, she is tall and very skinny. Her long brown hair was in a French braid, she was wearing short shorts, boots and a crop top. He has a very sour look on her face as Finn walks over to them. Logan on the other hand, goes to take a piss in the porta potty. Something he is not fond of doing.

Leo moves his truck and gets out to put the tailgate down so people can sit on it, climbing into the bed of the truck he opens the cooler in the back and takes out two budlights, Leo doesn't really care for budlight but they need to be drunk.

“CLAYTON!” He shouts as the three walk over to the truck, chucking the beer at his friend; they both take out their keys, puncturing the cans and shotgunning the beers.

A few hours and a lot of drinks later Leo was singing to Finn, standing between his legs as Finn sat on the tailgate next to Logan who was filming.

“You can train 'em, You can try to teach 'em right from wrong. But it's still gonna turn 'em on!” Finn can’t help but laugh and wrap his arms around Leo’s necklaces he sang, every once in while facing Logan's phone and singing into the camera as he filmed. Taking a drink of his beer he smacks a sloppy kiss on Finn's cheek and skips away to Clayton to dance like idiots as Luke Bryan sang about shaking it for birds and bees.

The two drunken best friends wrap and arm around each other hips with their drinks in the other hand, putting left side to right side they swing back and forth to the beat as they scream out the music.

Later on Leo picks Logan up so his arms are around his neck and his legs are around his waist and spins around while humming to a song about wheels and Finn looks so smitten that clayton takes a picture to show him and laughs as he send it to Leo, who has managed to misplace his phone… for the millionth time.

Setting Logan down he wraps his arms around the shorter man's shoulders and rests his chin on top of his head as he bounces to the beat. Logan leans his forehead to rest on Leo’s chest and uses his hand that isn’t holding his water to loop his finger into one of Leo’s belt loops he wishes he could take a screenshot in his brain.

Hours passed, singing and horrible dancing, more drinking for Clay and Leo until it sounded like a good idea to see who could crush a folding table by jumping off Clayton’s truck. Finn managed to lead them away before they actually tried it by telling them’ Leo could def dance better than Clayton’. Which turned into the worst dance battle ever seen. Two drunk teenagers and country music make for terrible dancing but a lot of laughs. Eventually, the fire dies down, the drinks run out and the boys get tired. Finn wrangles Leo into the back seat of the truck after lifting the tailgate, moving to go to the drivers seat because Logan might be to short to drive and they are to dumb to figure out how to move the seats, Leo latches onto him and pulls him into the backseat with him.

“Hey! How do you expect me to drive back here!” Finn pokes Leo’s nose and Leo catches his finger in his mouth biting him. Finn squawks and pulls his finger away. Looking at Leo offended, laughing a little as Leo is looking at him with this tiny smirk. “That was rude.” Leo narrows his eyes playfully and flips them so Finn is laying on his back with Leo snuggling into his chest.

Logan gets in on the passenger side and looks up to see Finn in the back seat being snuggled by an oddly cat like Leo who is rubbing his face on Finn’s soft t shirt, when his eyes meet Logans he blushes so vibrantly pink and has the shyest smiles as he hides his face in Finn’s chest again. Logan looks at Finn who looks like he's dying from cuteness overload. Logan moves over to the driver's seat and sits all the way on the edge of the seat to be able to touch the petals. Logan doesn’t have a clue where Leo lives… but he does remember how to get back to the hotel.

Trying to get a clingy 6’3” cowboy into a hotel room while he is intoxicated is a lot easier than you would think. He was tired, stripping down the second they walk into the door he lands on the bed in his boxer briefs and spoons Logan and grips Finn’s arm as he falls asleep.

They all slept incredibly well that night, warm, close, and together.

The next morning was the morning The Lions leave to go back to Gryffindor. Leo was up before the other two, showered and dressed when he woke them up with peppering kisses all over their faces.

“Good morning, Honey Bees. Y’all need to get up and get ready to leave, you go home today.” Leo runs his hand through Finn’s hair as he greets them with a sad smile. He doesn’t want them to leave, but he knows that this isn’t some fairytale where two princes will give up their dreams to be with him. That’s not what he wants anyway. The other two finally get up, Finn goes to shower as Logan changes and packs his bag. Glancing at Leo every once in a while, like he wants to say something.

“Leo, what are you still doing here?” Logan drops his bag by the door and turns around to face the taller man, crossing his arms and giving Leo a cold look. Leo is a little taken back by this, Logan has never looked at him like that, and he wasn’t expecting it from how nice yesterday was.

“I was to see you two off… is that okay?” Leo starts to feel uncomfortable under the harsh eyes he found so pretty, he starts picking at the wrap around his wrist, breaking eye contact with Logan as a sinking feeling seeps into his chest. He never expected anything to actually come from this but he ached for it.

He knows where this is going.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen after we leave, but we aren’t going to be fawning over you when we are busy with our own careers. You are just… a guy who we had a fling with. Finn and I aren’t even together so don’t expect anything.” Logan's voice stayed low in volume but echoed in Leo’s ears.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted to see you guys leave, say goodbye, maybe…” Leo didn’t finish his sentence when he looked up at an annoyed and frustrated Logan. “What did I do?” He hears the bathroom door open and Finn walks into the room whistling in fresh clothes as he dries his hair with a towel.

“You don’t mean anything to us Leo'' Finn hears Logan and knows exactly what’s going on, Logan has done this to him many times. This is Logan’s way of cutting off something he wants in a way he knows won't bring the person back, even though he always feels horrible eventually. Finn has been a victim of Logan’s lashing out many times, and he hasn’t left, because he loves Logan. He really really likes Leo, he gives his heart a similar jolt that Logan does. From what they have discussed, Logan felt the same. Logan doesn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling like this though.

Leo looks absolutely shattered after Logan’s words sank in. He looks over to Finn who looks like he’s in his own head, then back to Logan. “I really really like you guys-”

“Stop being a fucking child Leo! This isn’t something we can continue after we leave, we would get torn to shreds by the league! Not everything is about you and we don’t want you! So just go back to your fucking farm and forget us.” Logan grabs his bag and walks out the door slamming it shut, going to be the first one on the bus that just pulled up to take the team to the airport.

Leo stares at where Logan was when red catches his eye, Finn stops and gives Leo a sad smile, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Finn then turns his back to Leo and follows Logan out the door. Leaving Leo alone in the hotel room… He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the hotel keycard, standing up he goes to leave it on the table of the room, he stops just before he sets the key down.

He takes the card and walks out of the room, Climbing into his truck that was horribly parked, he finds his phone on the floor of the passenger side. Picking up his phone, he calls up the only person he knows who would be willing to hang out even if he was sick from last night.

“Clay? Can you meet me somewhere?”

A half hour and some McDonald's hash browns later. Clayton and Leo were sitting on top of Leo’s truck hood watching the airplanes take off, sipping on soda they got with their food. They watched in a comfortable silence as planes brought people in and took people away.

Logan and Finn were on one of those.

[bitchiha]

To Eternal Bliss, I’m so Glad to Know (ModernAU!Hidan x Reader)

The Rats 1k event prompt: Street racer x Hidan

A/N: hey.. aha.. how y'all doing.. hum so i haven't been doing great, I think that is evident through my inactivity on this blog, but that being said i am in a bit of a better place now. i finally have some time to myself and i intend to put that towards my 900 follower event. Enjoy this wonderful piece of modern racer Hidan that strayed into crazy murder himbo I love car man Hidan.

Title inspired by: this song.

MAJOR TWs: smut, harassment (brief, undescriptive), uhm murter, reckless driving, lots of mentions of and contemplations of death. You are a literal accomplice to murter. Reader is confused. But.. It’s not supposed to be gory and dark, I kinda wanted it to just be stupid and reflect a himbo hidan as much as I could. Last like 6 paragraphs aren’t edited.

-

You shouldn’t be in a criminals car, much less in the middle of a police chase and much much less be falling in love with him.

 His silver hair flashes wildly in the occasional flicker of red and blue lights, teeth bared; he was making that face again. That one he had when he first met you, lips curled and canines showing. It looked like he was in pain. It was just because he was actually trying to use his brain, you think. He grips the wheel tightly, the whites of his pale knuckles glowing as he swerves onto one of the busiest city streets you know. 

Barely avoiding a collision with a distinct yellow blur you could barely classify as a taxi, he continued to speed through the lanes, horns blaring and merging into the sound of the wailing sirens quickly approaching. Another sharp turn onto a slightly less busy road had your body slamming against the console, leaning close to Hidan. Your eyes stray from the window and onto his face, unable to hear what he is saying, you make out the movement of his lips:

shit,shit,shiiit 

The tires screeched as he fumbled around with the controls, sending the car into a full 180 and narrowly avoiding a police car sacrificing its auto body in favour of capturing Jashin. That was real close call, just scratching the side of the passenger door, but you wouldn't know; you were still watching your boyfriends features as he speeds off down another dirty alley. 

You were pretty sure that one day you were going to die trapped in Hidans little metal box.. A distant part of you wanted to throw up when you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sure, he was obnoxiously annoying in the most serious of times and incredibly oblivious when you desperately needed him to get a clue. I mean fuck, it felt like despite his adolescent years of elementary and secondary school (which you’re not even sure he attended) his brain only had the capacity to process two things. The first being lewd shit and the second would be the gas pedal... and maybe half a braincell was in there thinking of you, but probably only of you in your panties or something really shallow like that. 

You really shouldn’t love him. 

Barrelling down the alley he randomly slammed the breaks down, the lack of warning sending you flying forward. Bracing yourself to be slammed into the front of car, but just when you thought you were going to break your nose Hidan reversed, sending your body backwards instead. You yelped and he sent you a stupid little apologetic curl of his lip before twisting his body, hand coming to your chair for support as he sped the car backwards through the trash littered street. You didn't understand why he suddenly changed his mind about the direction until a few seconds later when a black and white cop car swerved down the alley in the direction you were back pedalling from. Hidan must have known they were going to try and cut his route off.    

  At the sight of the police vehicle your boyfriend impulsively slammed the breaks, rolling his window down and leaning his head out of it, “Ha, you stupid fucks think you could catch Jashin with some lame shit like that? I could smell that from a mile away!” From your boyfriends childish tone you predicted he was going to blow a raspberry, but the sound of speeding tires approaching quickly stopped him. Sirens blaring, the police car sped its way forward. 

“Oh fuck.” Hidan sped Jashin backwards again. 

  You remembered the first time you met Jashin.

  It was late that night, you were making your long trek home after a disastrous closing shift. You were tired. So fucking tired. You never would have taken that shortcut if you weren’t truly physically drained. As you made your way briskly through that musky trash infested canal, you were stopped by a man who smelled just as intensely as the alley itself. It was so much so that you had thought that perhaps it was the mans smell that was so potent and not the space itself. 

  Defining what the source of that smell was wasn’t important though, not when he was coming straight at you with barred, yellow teeth. You didn't know what to do and to be fair, what the fuck were you supposed to do? He was yelling something, you couldn't hear it over the thrashing of your erratic heartbeat.  Were you going to die? You were so fucking tired. 

Maybe you should run.

  You didn’t though. Didn’t have the energy. So you let the man come face to face with your figure, grabbing at the lapels of your coat and screaming. His breath was unbearable and you thought you were going to pass away just from the smell as opposed to actually being murdered. Although you suppose this could probably qualify for a murder, his breath was most definitely a weapon. But despite his shouts being directly at you, his humid breath spraying across your face as his chest constantly heaved, you couldn't understand what he was saying. 

“Jashin! Jashin is coming!” 

  What the fuck was Jashin? Could you still not hear him? He was probably sick. You were tired. So you continued to let him shake your form. Was he going to kill you or just ask for some money?

  Thats when a beast of sleek red metal swerved down the alley, trampling over peeled open garbage bags and beer bottles, approaching you with each sound of a crinkled can. It was gunning straight towards the man who was backing you up against the wall, he was frothing and screaming at the sight and the next moment the hood of the car slammed into his form. Despite your close proximity to the man, you were left barely unscathed and a little bit disappointed.  

  The scene laid frozen for a good thirty seconds: the man unconscious on the floor, your unsteady breathing and the window of the car rolling down. It inched back to reveal a man about your age - which made him just barely a man - with silver slicked back hair, barred teeth and knitted eyebrows. 

“Shit.” 

  You just stared at him, backpack beginning to slide down your shoulders. He stared back at you, waiting to see what your next move was going to be. You didn’t have one. 

  “...If it makes you feel any better, douchebag deserved it.” The man said a few minutes later, he clearly wasn't expecting the crumpled body on the floor to have tried to seek out help, let alone from a cute girl. He smoothed his hair back. 

   His crappy attempt to seduce you didn't work and nor did his equally crap words of consolation, you were tired. This whole situation was even more tiring. You just wanted to sleep. 

  “I won't tell anyone, if you just drive me home.”

  He clearly wasn't expecting that, you could tell that from the pained look intensifying on his face and his little choked gasp. A few moments later it released like an elastic band snapping and his features set into a smug smirk. A cute girl who wasn’t gonna snitch on him?

  “You’re not going to question the fact that I just hit someone with my car? Is it cause I'm so fucking sex-” 

  You weren’t listening, walking over the heap of a body and around the car into the passenger seat. The contrasting smell of vanilla and cigarettes clouded your senses as you clicked your seatbelt into place - noticing his lack of one in the process.

You hated that your face was burning up as you spoke. “I live a few blocks away.” 

For a while you were sure that this was the first girl Hidan had ever had in his car. It was obvious that he was freaking out, maybe if he didn’t hit people in alleyways and then blamed your silence on the fact that he was so fucking sexy, then maybe he would be able to talk to more.

  He tried to blab to you the whole way to your apartment accidentally making wrong turns to try and extend the length of your stay. He told you about that man in the alley, said something about how he totally fucked him over in some black market shit for auto parts. Said his enemy, - he stressed this word very intensely - Shikamaru probably put him up to it. Nobody messes with Jashin goddamit, I fucking hate that guy. It was a shit justification for murder no doubt, there is never a good reason to hit someone with a car, but you supposed your indifference wasn't any better. 

  You stole a couple glances at him every now and then, when his eyes took a break from darting back and fourth between your thighs, your face and the road. He had a sharp jaw, pretty cheekbones, gelled back hair with small strands escaping every so often - causing him to brush them back when too many tickled his forehead - his lashes were long and his eyes so pretty so in the dim light of the empty city streets. His teeth were straight and sharp canines peeked out whenever he sent you a suggestive smirk.

You also spent an unbelievably long time watching his fingers maneuver the steering wheel, the way his hands flexed with a certain turn. The veins of his forearms travelling underneath his leather jacket pushed up at the elbows, his jeans were all worn out and faded and his shoes looked like they were about to fall apart, it was a big difference in comparison to the well kept state of his handsome car.

  When he finally made it to your complex after running out of roads to take wrong turns down, he looked at you like a lost puppy, rolling the passenger window down to call out to you as you opened the lobby doors. “So I’ll meet you out here tomorrow then? Say, around 9?” 

  You turned to look at him confusedly, inquiring as to why he would be picking you up when you made no reservations to see him again, why would you want to see your accomplice in a murder ever again? But he was already speeding off before you got the chance. 

At least you could finally go to sleep.

The next day he was outside your apartment fifteen past nine, blaring his horn as he maneuvered his upper body to hover out the window of his lovely Jashin. You were nestled on your couch, staring at the blue light of the TV screen in your dark apartment desperately trying to avoid the textbook glowering at you from the coffee table.

‘Cute kitten saved from tree’ was sprawled across the bottom of your television in bold letters as a perky blonde read off the little cue cards in her hand. You’d been watching the news all day, waiting for the red breaking news! To slice across the screen and read out the description of a crippled homeless gambler found dead in an alley, but it never came.

It mad you feel a little angry when you realized his death wasn’t going to be announced and you knew there was no way it hadn’t been discovered yet. Then you sat startled at the realization that you didn’t feel anything towards what happened. That the anger you felt in wanting it to be so desperately displayed on the news was because you hoped you would feel something then.

The sound of Hidans car horn threw you out of your thoughts as you jumped like a frightened cat to the window. Peeling back the curtain you were surprised to see that blood stained blotch on the road with a lavender haired boy peeking out, baring his teeth.

You contemplated staying inside, he didn’t know your apartment number, but you knew that he definitely wouldn’t stop blaring the horn if you didn’t. His hand was undeniably laying flat against the centre of he wheel as he continued to sound out, you heard someone yell for him to fucking shut up. Hidan continued as if he didn’t hear. It kind of flattered you.

You wanted to vomit.

You took the stairs.

It was the beginning of winter when you finally let Hidan fuck you. You were in some parking lot lined with pitch black shops on a Sunday night. Everyone closed early going home to their families, except the two of you of course.

It was odd being with him for this long. One outing turned into another and then another, before you knew it he was picking you up every night at nine -sometimes fifteen minutes passed,- blaring his horn excitedly as he peeked out his car.

He told you it was the perfect place to do donuts, didn’t you want to do donuts? You did. It was the beginning of winter. It was icy. His idea was incredibly fucking stupid. But you agreed because maybe you’d skid on the ice and smash into a store, get crushed by the crumbling debris..

There was little snowflakes hitting the windows of Jashin as you two sat parked in the middle of the deserted lot.

“You ready? Oh you’re gonna love this, babe.”

He grinned as your face heated up at the name, you always got all flustered whenever he said anything like that. It made him feel giddy. His long fingers start Jashin up, moving to clutch the wheel as the car thrums to life.

When he makes the first swerve with his car, he turns his head to watch your body all stiff and frightened. It was funny. He laughed as your face twisted into an even more flustered one - if that was possible. God, you were always such a hard ass at the beginning of the night, but when he dropped you off outside your apartment early into the morning he always made sure to leave you with a little smile on your face. Even now, this early into the night he could see the beginnings of one.

He twisted the wheel again and your body flew to the left, smooshing into the console and the surprised laugh that left your mouth had his guts twisting. He wanted to hear it again. Your walls always fell when he did stupid shit like this. You were kinda fucked up now that he thought about it. Always getting all giggly when you should probably be screaming at him to be more careful for fucks sake! But you never did and he loved that about you. Just as fucked as he was.

“Hey babe, babe! This one’ll be good. Watch, watch.” He gripped the wheel again and grinded his sneaker into the gas, the first skid across asphalt was intentional, but when he tried to regain the reigns of his dark red beast it began to thrash out of his control.

Goddamn ice patch.

The car twisted, screeched and burned into the pavement for a good twenty seconds and when he was sure you should be screaming because I mean come on, that was fucking scary, he heard silence.

As the car came to a complete stop and your body was once again flung against the console, he turned to you. He thinks he was gonna ask if you were okay but he couldn’t remember because the next moment you were grabbing tufts of his gelled hair and sucking his face off.

He loved every second of it. The amount of times he’d tried to get his dick wet with you before was astronomical, but you’d always tell him no and he would pout like a dog. But hey, now you’re shoving your tongue down his throat like a dog so he settled on the idea that good things do come to people who wait.

The reason you decided to do it then was blurry. One moment his car was skidding around the parking lot and you were laughing and thinking of the chance of death and the next second it spat onto your tongue and you realized you didn’t want it anymore.

Like that first time you slid into his car, as you kissed him now you tasted contrasting flavours. Mint and cigarettes. For a moment you thought you were going to pull away, but you felt the sudden need to drink all of it. To somehow understand why you felt like you were burning from the inside.

It was his fault really. Hidan made you feel less tired, if that was a good way to put it. You started looking forward to things after you two met and eventually you actually started to feel a bit more deeply for poor crumpled man in the alley. It felt as if you’re body was being thawed out by this silver haired idiot who was groping for the clasp of your bra underneath your shirt.

So you climbed over the console, fumbling with the side of his chair to pull his seat back as you began to strip off your top in haste. You unbuttoned his jeans and slid down to the space between his leg, choking and drooling all over his cock because when you did you felt all these funny emotions bubbling in your body, you felt alive.

He was a loud mouth when you had his dick down your throat, groaning and saying the dumbest, lewdest shit his sex wired brain could think of. You know how many times he’s thought of this? You feel so good, you feel so good. God this is so good, Jashin probably loves it too... We should fuck on the hood of the car next. Long slender fingers guided your head up and down him as he began to twitch thrust his hips upwards, finally spill into your mouth. Douchebag didn’t let your head go and you felt some of his juices dribble down your tongue.

“Swallow it, swallow it while my dicks still in your mouth... Atta girl, you’re so good. So greedy..”

And you swallowed it all, he hoisted you back onto his lap and pushed your skirt up. He was whispering all this perverted stuff in your ear and your mouth fell open against his neck. Words making you flush fiercely and slowly grind your hips against him. You stopped him when he was beginning to shove your panties down your thighs, though.

For the first time you felt small in comparison to him as you met his eyes. He stopped his movement seeming like he was going to say something too, but you cut him off.

“- Hidan... I’ve never done it before.”

He stares at you all wide eyed before laughing and for a second and you think about getting out of his car and walking home because that’s such a douchebag thing to do, but then he surprises you.

“Me too, I was just about to say.. but I mean it can’t be hard right? Well, I am hard,” he laughed and you found yourself huffing a small giggle at his stupid joke, good mood returning as he continued, “I was just gonna go with what I seen in hentais.” That explained his dirty talk.

It was pretty good for your first time though. Ideally not the best place to have sex, you kept hitting your head and he couldn’t quite get his hips thrusting at a good pace with the confined space, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because it was Hidan and you think you just might be in love with him.

That’s why you don’t say anything when a few weeks later you see “Shikamaru Nara, infamous street racer found dead in a back alley crash.” flashing across your tv screen.

You don’t comment, just give a little understanding hum when Hidan calls you and tells you he can’t pick you up tonight babe, or for a few nights, Jashin needs some repairs..

It’s why now, as he speeds through the streets recklessly with your bags in the trunk and the sound of sirens ringing in your ears that you feel tears prick your eyes. You wish you could have told him to be more careful, that he shouldn’t have done what he did without planning it. Something, anything.. it’s too late now. But he’s not to blame.

You think it’s your fault, really.

[delusionalwoman]

Summary: After Draco removes y/n from a case they were meant to work together on...y/n appears at his flat angry. But Draco doesn’t like being spoke down too.

WARNING: some degrading/ dominance / rough.

ENJOY! ♡

——————————————————-

I swear I heard the floo. I glance up from the study only to look back, deciding that I did not in fact hear anything. My brain sinks back into the haze of unresolved cases and my work engulfes me once more.

Hells tap along my floor. And suddenly my brain fires up allowing me just enough time for me to stand as the door flies open.

“You do not get to remove me from this case because you decided I was unfit for it. YOU do not decide what I am unfit for.”

“Y/n? I-“

She stormed further into the room her eyes blazen as she gunned me down, taking in the spread out case and the continuous ticking of my pendulum. She storms further in and begins to shuffle the paper back into its folder, corners crumpling and losing their place.

“Y/N enough!” I shout, pulling myself out the daze and stepping around the desk. “I pulled you from the case for a reason, and you very well know why” I combat holding my breath as she faces me entirely, folder in hand, brown hair covering her eyes.

“You do not get to decide what case is okay for me or not Draco Malfoy. You, of all people will never know what I am capable of. So I suggest that-“

“I know what you're capable of Y/N, I've known you for almost three years, of course I know your strengths and what they are. But this case, about THIS person, is not it. And so I won’t allow you to be on it. For your safety. And for your peace of mind.”

“Me being off this case doesn't do my mind jack shit! It just pushes me into the dark, the shitty fucking pitch black filled with unknown bullshit and unknown end results.”

Y/N stands tall, rightly annoyed at my decision despite my intentions. She walks back out of my office and turns towards me at the door. “You don’t get to decide what's right for me just because youve saw my tits Draco.”

Her comment slaps me, her flippant emotion sending a shockwave through my lungs. Before rage burns them back to functioning and I’m storming after her.

“Sorry Y/N, but your fucking tits aren’t as sentimental as me deciding to take you off this case. You can't do this! It has personal relations to you, so I did what I thought was right. So I’m sorry. But I stand by it. Sexual past or not.”

She whirls back around, her cinnamon perfume hitting my nostrils as she throws her arms up. “You dont get to fucking dictate my job! Jesus Christ, just because you grew up having everything given on a silver spoon doesn't mean you then need to do that for others. Daddy isn't here anymore Draco. Be your own fucking man.”

I’m moving towards her before I can stop. I’m gripping her throat before I can even halt. I’m pushing her against the wall before I can even inhale her fucking cinnamon scent. She's against the study door before she can even spell my name, folder and papers forgotten on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure I was my “own man” last time you were here Y/N. I’m pretty sure you were also moaning while you were here, but that was because my tongue was against your cunt, not because you were having a hissy fit.

Her chest is heaving, the white shirt stark against her breasts as it tucks nicely into her suit pants, the material tight against her ass. She always dresses sharp. Never wearing skirts, only the occasional dress if it was summer or a special occasion. Her suit trousers fixed themselves around her ass while also leaving the mind to wander down murderous paths. On some days she would wear a blazer, the button holding just below the Center mark of her bra. Today she decided on a blazer, the thing itself probably thrown in her own flat before coming here to shout. The red bra showing through: something that would normally be hidden...unless?

“No white bras today Y/N?” I breathe, fanning over her face as she stares back at me, pupils wide and fixed on me under her eyelashes.

“Laundry day.” She replies. Shaking hair out her face before licking her bottom lip “ran out of white bras.” She finished.

I raise my eyebrow, fixing my eyes on her before releasing my hand and trailing it down her neck, my hand soft in contrast to the rings housed on my fingers, the hold leaving goosebumps on her skin before my fingers slide down landing on her top button. I flick it open with ease, her chest inhaling with a small hiss, the red of the bra showing over the white like the sunrise.

“Do you want to go back to shouting at me?” I start, keeping my eyes on hers and my hand ghosting over the second button. “Or do you want to thank the lucky stars that you're also wearing red pants too...because I know you are, my little slut wouldn’t come here without wearing matching underwear.”

She shakes her head.

“I need words Y/N, you know I like to hear that mouth.”

“Yes Draco.”

“- yes what.” I growl back, pinging open two buttons as I press against her slightly, allowing her to feel me enough to send a shiver through her core.

“Yes sir.” She moans out, arching her chest into me and moving her hand so that it rests on my arm.

“Good girl.” I commend, dipping my head down and lacing my tongue over her neck and ears, bobbing, biting and licking as her hand grips my arm and then moves to my own shirt buttons. She unpops three before groaning, moving her other arm from against the door to join her adventure of tackling buttons. Before long she has undone them all, her slender fingers tracing down my chest before banishing the shirt and landing on the waistband of my trousers.

She arches her head back, giving me better access to her neck. I suckle on the pulse point, earning a moan as she shifts her hand to between my trousers, squeezing slightly and then releasing, her hands leaning towards my belt buckle before she lets out a breathy gasp as my lips move back onto her lips, my tongue tracing her lower lip before my teeth nip, the small beading of blood pooling before I move my thumb to collect it and smearing it across her lip. Her hand once resting on my belt is forgotten, curling her hand around the fabric of my opened shirt. I move down her neck, finding her collar bone and nibbling, encasing my hand in her hair and pulling slightly: gauging her reaction. She lets out a whimper and I pull again, this time biting her neck and tracing my hand over the exposed parts of her chest. She gasps at my action, the rings feeling like ice as I trace lightly the outline of her lace bra. She grabs my crotch in reply, gripping it harder than before and I groan the tension growing in her hand.This time I slip slightly, the groan leaking from my lips as I thrust against her feeling the door hit against the wall. “You keep teasing me y/n, and i'll have you over the desk and cumming over the papers that I should hand in to the ministry tomorrow.”

Our breathing begins to share the same air, my lungs taking in her breath as the metal of my belt sound like church bells ringing in the empty room as she unhooks it, feeling the metal hit the side of my leg as she begins on my zip. “We can always rewrite the reports.” Y/n replies.

"Don't play me like that" I growl, biting down on her neck hard leaving a mark. MY mark.

I look at her and her eyes dance with fire, the reply sitting on the tip of her tongue like a snake ready to attack.

"Make me." She replies, and the second the syllables leaves her mouth, I switch positions, throwing her towards the desk. She lands hands on the edge as she turns to face me, my hands on her in seconds. Tearing the shirt open and allowing my hands to follow onto her breasts, magnets being lured to their partner. She moans and leans back slightly, her hair fanning down below her as she pants slightly, her tight buds standing to attention as she wraps a leg around my hip pulling me closer.

“Fuck me Draco” y/n begs, her arms spreading back as she lowers herself onto the desk, her body lying there like a constellation in the stars aligned perfectly the way I want her, creating an image of Aphrodite: My own weakness.

I lower my head, kissing her deeply, giving her one last moment of pliability before I stand, attacking her zipper and removing her pants. Her cunt staring at me through hidden lace,

"Draco please" y/n breathed, her cheeks becoming flushed. "I want you" she pleaded biting her lip and then breathing out fast.

"You can get me when I allow it y/n." I growl, moving my hands down over her stomach, tracing the outline of her breasts that peaked over the edge of her bra before looping my finger around the elastic of her pants.

I pull them down effortlessly, the air hitting y/n. She gasps at the sudden gesture, squirming slightly. I trace my finger over her slit, pressing slightly on her clit before retreating and moving back down her slit.

“Wet for me already y/n” I growl out, voice deep and heavy as I add another finger and part her lips slightly.

She moans out “Draco please.”

And I moan back in need, my fingers dipping into her as her muscles tighten around me, begging me to never leave her tight pussy.

I pump her in a steady motion, watching her squirm as the sound of paper rustle beneath her. Her eyes flutter shut, face a portrait of pleasure.

“Open your eyes y/n. Watch me fuck you with just my fingers.” I command, leaving a slight slap to her inner thigh.

She moans loud, opening her eyes and letting out a shaken breath. “Yes sir” she replies.

I grip her neck carefully not to hurt her, and move her bra above her breasts, sinking my mouth over her nipple and sucking as I continue to pump my fingers.

She moans out, arching her back, her heat pressed again my palm, my cock twitching in response.

I stand upright looking at her. Blood rushed lips and puckered nipples.

In one fluid motion I remove my hand, letting the cold air hit her, watching her eyes widen in anticipation. I push her further up the desk, head hanging over and then I walk around, her hands latching onto my belt on instinct.

“You going to let me throat fuck you y/n?” I cooed, letting her hand open my belt, the metal clinking against each other as she attacked my zip.

“Mhm.” She moaned out, her hair falling down around the desk as she worked quickly.

“Give me words y/n, you know how much I hate mumbling.” I bend shucking my trousers down to my ankles and stepping out of them as she palms my erection, the feeling heavenly as I grip her head using her hair.

“Words y/n. Now.” I say, this time more direct and sharp toned.

“Yes sir.” She says, pulling my boxers down and opening her mouth wide. Begging. Wanting.

I give in, guiding my cock into her mouth, watching as it slides down her throat as the muscles flex against me. She starts quick, sucking and coating her saliva all down my shaft. Licking and kissing, sucking and gagging.

“Good girl y/n” I groan out.

My hand tightens at the base of her head, creating the rhythm as I pump my dick into her mouth, the sounds of her gagging and taking me whole causing the tightness in my stomach to boil. My thrusts are timed, her tongue dancing around my tip as pre-cum leaks onto her tongue and she swallows with fever.

“Such a good little slut for me hm? Taking me like that. Letting me hit your throat.”

I lean forward slightly, feeling my length sink further down my throat making me groan. I trail my hand down her front, sweeping a finger over her slit like before, the wetness travelling down and a small pool of it collecting on a piece of parchment.

I pull her legs forward, giving me a perfect view of her pussy. Letting my breath flood over it, licking my lips I dive down, gripping onto her tights to stop her from moving as I continue to thrust into her mouth.

She moans loudly, my tongue slipping in with purpose as the moan vibrates over my dick sending a shockwave through my system.

I let out a groan. “So good for me y/n. Tasting so good. Being a good girl and lying there for me.” I thrust harder feeling her gag as my tongue swirls and dips over her clit, legs shaking when I hit her favourite spot. I circle back again, this time collecting the juice as I kitten lick and nibble.

She reminds me of the muggle drug Blaise brought to the dorm on fourth year.

The tiny cupped mushroom opening up a door in my brain that allowed me to reach God and shake his hand. Allow me to taste bliss and euphoria simply by sweeping my tongue up her heat, allowing the taste of her to melt into my tongue: the foam of which Aphrodite rose from.

I groan again, circling my tongue around the nerves, feeling her buck slightly and her breathing hitches suddenly as she sucks my cock.

"You taste like mine y/n." I groan twisting my tongue and dipping further in, allowing myself to bask in her taste, the frenzied high sending bolts of electricity down my body.

"Draco please" she gasps out, removing herself from my dick with a pop. "Please, just fuck me." She begs her legs trembling under my tongue.

I grunt and stand, wiping her juice off my lips and signaling for her to get up too, watching as she stands and walks around to me.

I engulf her in forceful kissing, gripping her hair and pulling her in front of me, her breathing erratic as I spin her and force her over the table, my hand running over her pussy as she gasps and backs into my hand.

I skim my hand across her cheeks, the slap echoing around the hall as y/n lets out another gasp.

“You like that?” I ask. Doing it again feeling my cock harden more than I thought possible as she ruts against me.

“Harder Draco.” She begs. Biting her lip as she looks behind to me, her eyes dark as she lies before me begging and ready.

I do it again. Her moaning coming in waves, each slap earning a pink mark on her cheek, before my hand dives into her core, pumping at a fast speed.

“Dont stop. Don't stop. God Draco please.” Y/n begs, bouncing herself off my hand as the pleasure seems to roll off her in waves. “Please let me cum.” She pleads, my hand stopping as her rutting becomes untuned and needy.

“You can cum when I say you can y/n.” I say. Removing my hand and replacing it with my cock, teasing her by running it up and down her center. “I want you to feel me first, feel my hard cock against your tight pussy. Feel how hard I am for you, how much I can't wait to pound you into this desk until you can't speak.”

Y/n moans, her head rolling back slightly as I rub myself over and over again, my dick becoming wet with her as I line it up at my entrance.

“What do we say when we really want something y/n?” I ask, my patience wearing thin as I feel her push against me slowly.

“Please sir.” She begs, gasping as she pushes against me. My cock parting her lips and sliding into her tight cunt.

I hiss as I enter her. She is tight and wet. Her muscles tensing as she feels me fill her whole with my dick. She shudders and her eyes roll at the initial pressure and pleasure.I shift my weight and rock my hips against hers, the desk moving slightly and our breathing becoming pants as I create a steady motion.

"Draco please" she begs again, gripping onto the top of the desk, my hands unclipping her bra before rolling her nipple between my fingers. This emits a loud moan, a whimper of begging leaving her lips: “please don't stop, please- Yes sir. Please-“

I start slow, entering her entirely and then pulling out almost fully letting her feel every single inch of me, my hands latching onto her hips. She ruts against me, her breathing heavy as she plays with her own nipple, my hands digging into her side as I begins to pound harder.

“Fuck me Draco. Fuck me please.” She pleads.

“You want me to fuck you y/n? You want me to show you what a good little slut does?” I hum, rutting into her feeling my cock hit her cervix earning a sharp cry.

“Yes sir, please...show me how to be-be your slut” she purrs.

And I speed up, the dragon in me coiling as y/n gasps and pants, profanities leaking off her lips like honey. Her voice sounded like angels as she moaned and groaned, her hands tightening and then releasing around the desk, one of them crumpling up paper which was near at hand.

I latch my ringed hand onto the back of her throat, my other hand holding and squeezing her ass as I thrust faster, my breathing turning to fast pants as I feel the fire begin to dance and sing, getting closer.

"Fuck, please don't stop" y/n begs, her head leaning forward onto the hard wood as she bites her tongue and lets out a strained moan.

"Say my name" I demand, the heat rising in the room.

She looks at me and locks her lips, deciding there and then to not let me take her fully.

"Say it y/n, say it while I fuck you hard." I groan, tightening my hand on her slightly, moving my other hand from her ass to her clit, rubbing it in circular motions.

She lets out a scream, her legs shaking as she digs her nails into the wood, her eyes rolling.

I had her. She was coming undone under me as I went faster, arching myself and hitting her spot.

"Draco" she wails, her body jerking uncontrollably as she unraveled, her pussy tightening around me as she moaned and gasped.

"Draco, fuck- Oh yes god- Don't sto- Oh Draco"

I growl, feeling myself about to let go, ready to fill her as I continue to ride her over my own high, her mouth slipping out my name making me finally accept the snapping coil of pleasure.

"Such a good little slut so good for me. So fucking dirty-God. So perfect.” I pant, the slapping of our bodies against each other becoming our own pendulum as she tumbles over the edge a second time as she throws her head back and wails, tears threatening to spill over as I pull her hair and release myself into her. The sensations of her clenching around me bring me up higher than I had ever been before.

We ride each other until we float back down, the smell of sex in the air as our breathing regulates and I allow y/n to stand up and face me, a wide dazed smile on her face.

“You know.” I say, leaning forward and placing a kiss on her lips. “I should take you off cases more if this is the result.”

————————————————-

Just a PSA, that this was taken from my Draco fanfic, and modified and lengthened to make this one shot type thing. I hope you liked it!! Aaaah!

Requests are open!

Stay spicy

- H ♡

[classicdaisycalico]

Im here for the most recent ask prompt. I didn't understand if we have to tell you a pair, but I will say #1 and #15 with shadouge

Short fic challenge

Anon I will do ANYTHING to liven up the Shadouge tag so HERE WE GO.

1. "A conversation you wish had happened in canon"

***

With the sheer brawn of Iblis and the devilish cunning of Mephiles, Solaris was the biggest challenge anyone on the side of good had yet to face. Without a doubt, the Emeralds were needed here. Sonic was needed here.

But he was dead...or so it seemed.

Elise mentioned something about sensing his presence in the wind, a sort of wishful justification that somehow the blue hedgehog was only mostly dead. Admittedly, Shadow would have been lying if he hadn't thought the same. That faker had a fighting spirit that could last as long as the ultimate life form himself could exist. Without that kind of motivation, any fight against Solaris would be for naught. Gathering the seven Chaos Emeralds, then, was the only right thing to do.

Somehow everyone had managed to pull through on this feat, and in record time, apparently. Granted, the destruction of time and space itself may have been a factor, but the speed at which the gems had been obtained was astounding, nevertheless. How ironic, Shadow thought to himself, that this process had been slower while the blue blur had been alive. Perhaps a well-timed nod to the idea after Sonic was brought back could give him the motivation to stay focused on the matter a little better.

Still, that would only happen if the revival was a success.

"Think it'll work?"

A voice next to him interrupted his train of thought. He turned and found Rouge standing at his side. "I don't see why not," he said. "The Chaos Emeralds had a hand in giving me life. They should have no issue in giving Sonic his back."

The black hedgehog couldn't help but feel his muzzle heat up when he realized how close the two of them were standing. It hadn't even been the first time the distance between them was this small. It was since that fateful day by the sea that he became more cognizant of the idea.

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the same day he had been told of what was to come for him and Omega, their faithful E-series robot companion, in the future. It was that same member of Team Dark, in fact, who would betray him and seal him into stasis forever, after everyone else in the world turned against him.

Everyone except Rouge, who rescued him from stasis in Eggman's base, who saved his life on several other occasions, who had worked with him to defeat his own biological father and his alien offspring permanently. Through all the light and dark he had suffered, she had been by his side the whole time.

She would make that same point again that very day. The words echoed in his mind, over and over again, like a broken record:

"Shadow...even if you believe everyone in the world will be against you...know that I'll always be by your side. Remember that..."

He wasn't wrong when he said "I will". Until now, no one else in recent memory would stand by someone whose past was so painful, someone whose memory had been tampered with one time too many, someone who was abused to the point of distrusting everyone around him, someone whose path to recovery was like navigating a minefield. Anyone else who said this to him would have him wonder if they meant such a promise.

And yet, he believed her every word. At least, with her, he never had to doubt anything. He never had to second-guess himself. Recovering from his past never scared her away.

Shadow respected that. He respected her, and he trusted her. For him to hold anyone in such a high regard was not something that was given freely.

Still, "respect" and "trust" didn't feel like enough to describe what he felt.

He recalled a conversation long ago with Maria on the ARK, where she once explained to him the concept of love. For a 12-year old girl, her response was surprisingly mature. According to her, she knew someone loved another if they prioritized that person's else's needs before their own in times of trouble.

She was absolutely correct. Between her, Shadow, and Gerald, her definition checked off all the right boxes. Maria was family, after all; of course he and Gerald loved her.

He had also come to learn that Rouge checked off all those boxes, too. Of course, the only context Shadow knew of this kind of love was family. This bat was not family, not in the way he was used to.

But he still loved her.

He looked over at Amy, wringing her hands together while trying to hold back tears as Elise lay the Emeralds in a circle around Sonic. As much as Shadow couldn't seem to believe it, maybe the pink hedgehog was onto something. Perhaps whatever she felt for her blue hero, he felt for the spy next to him. The idea held water very well; there was probably no other way to describe it.

Elise was now lying next to Sonic in the middle of the Emeralds, which began to glow. All the while, the ultimate life form let his fingers brush against those of his ally. As it turned out, these newfound feelings had given way to something else on his mind. "Rouge."

The partner in question turned and faced him. "Yes?"

"He can't fight this alone."

She blinked, feeling his hand grasp hers. "What are you saying?"

"Solaris may well be the biggest threat we've ever seen. Sonic cannot face it alone."

Rouge's eyes widened. "So you're joining him?"

"Silver, too," Shadow replied. "And even among the three of us, our efforts may not be enough."

The Emeralds were floating now, revolving around Sonic's body. Only one scenario involved the gems acting this way. If he was to help the faker, this was the way to do it, but before he could join him, there was one last thing left to do.

He turned to face Rouge. "People may die tonight," he answered. "And if I should be one of them–"

"Shadow, we know that's impossible–"

"If I should be one of them..." he resumed, harshly, before taking a calmer breath to compose himself. "You said you would stay by my side no matter what. Is that right?"

She nodded slowly. "Absolutely."

He took another slow breath, reaching for the limiters on his wrists. "If I should live after this battle...find me."

He removed them, while Rouge could only watch in dismay. "Shadow–"

He urgently placed the limiters in her hands. "Find me," he repeated, and sighed, shaking his head. "If only I told you sooner..."

There was a sternness in her voice now as she heard the serious tone in his. "Tell me what?"

Looking at her, Shadow could see up close just how many small features of her he never paid attention to, like how her snow-white hair curled slightly at the ends. Like how her eyes were a perfect mixture of blue and green. Like how her skin somehow miraculously remained untouched by battle scars no matter how many fights she found herself in.

He chose to set himself up for this. There was no turning back now. Taking one last look at his ally, the hedgehog shut his eyes and pressed his lips to hers.

He could feel her gasp in surprise, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was that she needed to know how he felt about her before it was too late.

Before he knew it, the spy was kissing him back. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, reassured that her feelings were mutual. After all, her promise was as good as binding. Was that not a declaration of love by itself?

On any other occasion, he would have gladly taken his time with this kiss. He could have deepened it, ran his fingers through her hair, lightly stroked her velvety wings, let his hands venture down her back and along her hips and up again, mold the sharp edges of his own figure into the softer curves of hers until there was no space between them at all. Call it the territorial instincts of his Black Arms DNA, perhaps.

Take that, Knuckles.

But there was still a war going on, and he still had a role in it.

They pulled away as slowly as time would allow, their eyes only half open and gazing longingly into the other's. Their foreheads were still touching, along with the tips of their noses. One of his hands still clung to hers, fingers laced together. He could hear her taking slow, steady breaths, stark contrast to the rapid pulse of her heart. Who could blame her? She was caught horrendously off-guard. "What did you want to tell me, Shadow?"

He wanted to tell her. Badly. But all he could do was gently nuzzle the side of her face. "There's no time."

"You can't just–"

Rouge found herself holding Shadow's limiters against her chest, but there was no Shadow standing in front of her. Instead, she looked up and saw him slowly backing away, the ghost of regret clouding his eyes. "What are you doing?"

He shook his head, feeling a part of his heart ache as the distance between them increased. "I'm sorry."

The ultimate life form turned on his heel and ran towards the Chaos Emeralds, now rapidly rotating around Sonic. His only focus now was joining the blue blur and destroying Solaris for good.

He had to survive. Only then, could he find his ally and let her know the three words that echoed through his mind, but never found the right time and place to say out loud:

"I love you."

***

OKAY NOW FOR THE OTHER ONE LET'S DO THIS

***

15. "The scene that will give you, personally, the most joy."

***

The sun was going down, illuminating the sky with brilliant shades of orange and gold fading into red. Dusk would soon be near, which meant nightfall was not far behind.

Being a bat, a night creature, Rouge thrived during this time of day. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't slow down and appreciate the beauty that this sunset had to offer. It almost made her forget the rest of her surroundings, like the tree attached to the thick branch on which she stood.

Upon suddenly seeing Shadow pop up next to her, she yelped in shock. "Don't do that! You scared me half to death!"

"Rouge, I have a question."

There it was, the perfect opportunity to ask her about what was on his mind, about how it was always around Rouge that he found himself trying to keep a cool head a little more than needed. It was her that made his face flush a deeper red than the streaks in his quills. It was her who made his heart beat faster than he could run. It was her that caught every man's eye in a way so tantalizing that he felt a need to tell them all to back off.

Tantalizing...like the many gems she chased after. Her eyes were like turquoise, her lips like amethyst, her black catsuit like onyx, her hair like pearls. Who was she to talk about the mysterious brilliance of a Chaos Emerald when she herself was right there before his eyes? And just like a diamond, her personality was just as multifaceted. On one hand, she appeared cold and cruel, calculating and cunning. On the other, she showed a caring and compassionate side, a side she showed to no one else but him. She was everything a jewel could ever be: hard to find and even harder to obtain, but so beautiful one couldn't help but get drawn in.

In fact, he'd been drawn in for so long, he nearly forgot he had a question to ask. "...When was the last time you ever really got to see the world?"

The bat was slightly taken aback by this question. "I–"

"And not because of some jewel heist, either. I mean...REALLY seeing the world."

She sat down on the tree branch, now much deeper in thought. "I...don't know. Probably...never? Why?"

The hedgehog sat down next to her. "Because it's come to my attention that I never have, either." He smoothed some stray quills back, a tell-tale sign of the nervousness he harbored around her. "To be honest...I was wondering–"

"Of course I'll come with you."

He froze. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Lucky guess. Besides," she added, reaching for his hand. "It's what she would have wanted for you. Besides, with Eggy out of commission for good, you've got nothing but time to do it."

He knew immediately which "she" the spy referred to: Maria, his surrogate sister from long ago, whose wish to see the world had never been realized. He also knew Rouge wasn't wrong about Eggman, either. He was gone. Completely. Nothing could restrain Shadow, limit him, make him doubt himself and his decisions.

He was, for all intents and purposes...free. And Rouge wanted to fly in that freedom with him. She helped him find it, after all.

A smile slowly spread across his face. "Then why wait?"

He grabbed her wrist, ready to venture forth, until he realized what was under her hand was not her wrist. It felt loose. Round. Like a piece of jewelry, no doubt. "Rouge...what is that?"

The ultimate life form could see her pause, her muzzle turning bright pink as she searched for words. "...It was from a long time ago," she answered. "I meant to tell you earlier today, but I forgot."

He tilted his head to the side. "Care to show me?"

She took a deep breath, and slowly slid down part of her glove from her elbow down to her wrist. He gasped as he realized what it was he felt: on her wrist was one of his inhibitor rings. "Is that–"

"Yeah," she answered, sheepishly, trying to avoid his eyes.

"How...?" was all he could ask. "When did you–"

"Since the ARK. When you fell from space back down to Mobius. Sonic found it...he gave it to me when I asked you where you went."

The bat looked back up. "Everyone thought you were dead, but something told me I would find you again...and I did. But you lost your memory, and between all those androids, and the Black Arms, and Gemerl, and even beyond that..."

Her voice trailed off. She almost sounded shameful when she explained it, but Shadow didn't care. He could only stare back at her in wonder. "You wore it this whole time?"

She nodded. "I'd say it's more important than any jewel I've ever found. I value it."

The bat looked up at the hedgehog, the uncertainty in her eyes dissipating. "And I value the hedgehog that came with it just as much, if not more."

He was speechless. Even if she didn't say the exact words he expected her to, her intent was clear: she loved him.

And his feelings were certainly more than mutual. "Rouge...I–"

He was cut off when she reached up to kiss him. This wasn't just a flirty little peck on the cheek, however. This was a real kiss, one that represented all the pent-up passion and emotion finally coming out.

It was here that Shadow realized Rouge was not completely jewel-like. Jewels were hard, but her lips were soft against his. Jewels were angular and severe, nothing like the gentle curve of her waist. Jewels were sharp, unlike the smoothness of her skin and her hair.

No. There was not a single gem on the planet that could replicate this.

They broke apart almost reluctantly, but nothing could stop them from smiling. It was an unusual feeling for Shadow to experience, but it made sense that it was Rouge alone who could make it feel less strange.

He felt the spy nuzzle against his shoulder. "Where to now, ally?"

The hedgehog couldn't help chuckling. He called her "ally" as far back as when they found Emerl. It was the closest thing to a nickname he was comfortable calling her. "You're more familiar with this world than I am. You tell me."

She looked back up at him. "I hear Spagonia is nice this time of year. Might take us a while to get there, though..."

"Are you sure?" He reached from behind his quills and brought out a Chaos Emerald. "Just in time to watch the sunrise."

His hold around her waist secured itself further. "Ready when you are."

She was grinning from ear to ear. "Let's get moving."

He held up the Emerald in the air, effortlessly uttering the words, "Chaos Control!"

Together, in a brilliant flash of light, they disappeared as the sun sank down over the horizon, awaiting a new day in Spagonia, a new day that would usher in a new era in their lives, one full of adventure, freedom, and most importantly, one where they finally found peace.

[illyrian-lover-flower]

My little mischievous partner ~ part 4

To say Elain was not tense, the moment these words left Azriels sinful mouth, would have been a lie. 

Everything in her screamed at her to just sit and wait. Wait for another compliment that would come free, from all the hidden words within the spymaster. 

Sitting there, like a little fawn spotted by the hunter, she did not dare to move a muscle, her breath cought in her lungs as she looked into his eyes. 

His oh so beautiful eyes that most often spoke for him. 

No words necessary.

But somehow she wished he would have spoken out every naughty thought that ran through his mind as he watched her - with burning hazel eyes. 

A desire readable she could have bet, would make her blush up to the tip of her pointed ears. 

A slight blush already high on her cheeks. “What?” was all she whispered as she kept her gaze fixed on her friend, who had somehow ,within this fateful evening, become more than that. 

Azriel only kept silent, as color raised on his tan cheeks too. He was not used to this - that she could tell. 

It was rare for him to give her compliments about her looks. Every word that somehow said something about her apperance seemed like it had to wrestle free from deep within him.

A complimet about her cooking or her gardening a normal thing. He said it almost as often as he breathed. 

But there laid no word, about her garden or her cooking, on his tongue, no the swirl of words that left his mouth, came from deep within him. Every word sounding like a pure sin, as it escaped, his husky voice, like spilling water:  

“I love your eyes as much as I love the night sky, there is always a hopeful shimmer inside them - like the stars itself, when you infect others with your happiness. I love how your voice leaves a taste, as sweet as honey, on my tongue when I listen to you. I love how the feeling of your skin made mine flame up with desire.”

His breath hitched, before those sinful final words left his mouth, “I just love what you do to me and yet here I am, afraid that you might hate what I do to you.” 

His words were only a mere whisper, but it was enough for Elain soar up high.  Only a few words of him triggering a reaction from her. A reaction as fierce as a storm, as she shoot up to her feet- a determind look burning in her oh so soft eyes, as she turned off the silver water-tap. 

The streaming sound of running water, silenced- the moment she turned it down. She felt Azriels surprised look on her. His hazel eyes burning as he watched her every movement - his own going completly stiff, but all she heared from him, was a silent intake of sharp air. 

She felt his hot gaze - wandering upside down her body, as she ripped those grey clothes off of her. 

Pulling the grey harems pants down, with a scowl on her face, while she fumbled to get the, form fitting grey top with the puffy chiffon sleves, off. In the progress she managed to ripp those anoying sleves down. 

The sound of tearing seams, filling the silent air, as she was already bussy fumbling with the last pieces of clothing, that hid the most luscious parts of her delicate body. 

And before she could even manage to turn and have second doubts, she uncovered herself. 

Standing, only for a brief moment, in all her nude glory infront of the Shadowsinger - who seemed surprised at her bold behaviour. But the surprise fleed from his gaze as soon as it came, a burning fire within him, taking a hungered place in his eyes, as molten ember threatened to burn her with just a look. 

Those burning eyes, that used every second of that brief moment, wandering her entire body up and down.    

Taking in, with a lick of his lips, her sun kissed skin on her arms and shoulders, her slightly curved hips, the rosy sight of her peaked nippls on the soft mounds of her breasts. The color of them alone, as lovely as any rose that bloomed in her garden.

It took all of his restain to not jump out of the water and claim these mounds then and there, but she was faster. 

While Azriel was bussy, keeping every muscle of his body strained, to not pounce at her any moment - she jumped into the water. 

The impact of her body on his, took his breath away - along with some of the hot water around them. A spilling fountain as she had him underneith her.

Oh and how his breath hitched as he was eye to eye, with this flower growing godess. A fire burning in her doe eyes as she peered down on him, her delicate arms braced at either side of his face, on the tube. 

It was pure instinct.

His body reacted on its own as he settled her hips between his legs, a deep rumbling growel escaping both of their lunges as their skin met, their burning eyes never leaving the face of the other.

The burning feeling, of each others naked skin on theirs, making them, both, tremble from desire -igniting an stomach churning fire, deep within them.

A heaven and hell all the same - though they could end hell soon. Let the fire die down, or soar to life, as they would unite. It would only be a push - for each of them, but neither dared to move. 

Stiff as two gods crafted statues, did they lie there in the warm water. Both, completly unable to breath as they, looked at each other. Only the bobing of Elains adams apple, pulled the two out of their trance. 

Air suddenly finding its way back into Azriels lunges as he inhaled sharply, his broad chest rising to meet with hers. 

The silence shazzering around them into a million pieces, as Elains soft voice echoed through the dark room. 

With those sinful soft lips of hers on his, did she not only shatter the silence, but also his slfretrain, as she repeated the words he spoke to her only seconds ago. “I love what you do to me.” 

The oh so mighty shadowsinger, was complete molten wax between her delicate hands, as they reached in the water for his own - dragging them up to her chest.

Where her steady heartbeat thumped under that silky mound of hers. The temptation, to lean in and taste this forbidden fruit of hers, strong - but he knew why Elain had taken his caloused hand.

Knew why she showed him the stark contrast of their skins - his red burned flesh against her pale skin. His rough hand laid across a place of her body where no sunshine touched her. He was the first to touch, the rosy, white spot of skin. 

She showed him, with a ragged breath and molten brown eyes - how much she loved him. He felt it - every fiber of his being thumping with the same rhythm as her heartbeat. 

She loved him. And he - he loved her. 

All her sweet laughs in the garden, the clouds of her skirts - that trailed behind her- as she chased through her garden. 

He would never get tired of her sweet, adorable smile when she kneaded the dough of a bread - flour smeared all over her pale face , while her lips curved into a bright smile, both her hands captured in a bowel infront of her.

She would wave at him, often, when she saw him standing in the threshold to the kitchen - forgeting about her in dough covered hands. 

More than once had a dough already met its end like that. Flying around in the kitchen, after she had tried to caputer the heavy, stiky mass from her fingers. 

And he - Azriel would stand there, chukle at her clumsiness and help her afterwards with a new dough. Spending as much time with her as he could offer.

Oh and how he loved these times, loved their silent conversations in the kitchen.

But he loved this more. 

Her lips singing to his, as they pillowed his own reddened ones. Her own a plush rosy pillow as she pulled away from him, for a heavy breathe, before they both dived in again. 

The moment the two needed to catch air - far too long for the taste of the two of them. 

That dive into her, was something he would never forget. A dive into her love. 

And it cought him, soft as any pillow, did he land in her affection and she in his. 

The memory, of her tongue in his mouth, the feeling of her hands in his black,silky hair and her chest pressed agains his own heated one, sending a soaring warmth through him, as she embraced him.

Their playing tongues having a conversation, both could not hold out loud. 

It all felt like eternity. A heavenly long, eternity as nothing, but their lust filled pants and the splashing of water, filled the silent bathroom. The hue of the fullmoon and his shadows - the only beings that watched them.

Watched them in a flaring dance of light and darkness, as they seemed to dance in the knowledge, of a uniting of night and day. 

But they did not unite that night - though it was enough for the two of them.

Enough, that both of them knew they would still have tomorrow night for this. 

Tomorrow night, in which they could exlpore eachothers bodys, once again anew.

Tonight it was about something else. Something so entirly else, both did not know how to voice it. The heat of their speaking skins, smothing they could write a book with, while it was harder to let this bond - this marked thing between- them speak.

So it was silence that first enveloped them, as they calmed down, preparing for the words that were to come, sitting there for maybe ten, maybe twenty, minutes - washing each other, both body and soul. 

It was calm.

The raging inferno having cooled down along with the, barely remaining, water. But they did not care, as they both sat there.

Azriels back was pressed against the cool rim of the porcelain tube - his wings were drapped around his and Elains naked frame, that sat between his legs, and his arms held her. 

Held her so close that it seemed like they wanted to become one, never letting go of her. 

The sight of her, wet hair - a dark brown now- sticking to her back and his chest made his heart swell. He loved her and Azriel showed her just that as he leaned down and pressed kiss after kiss on her wet crest - each time a murmured ‘I love you’ on his soft lips as he moved down and down and down.

Closer to the nap of her neck. 

He did not realize where his trail of kisses went - all he knew was that the inclination, of Elains head, made him crazy. 

Her scent flared at him as she beared her sensetive flesh to him. 

His nosethrils flared at her flowery scent, his brain was turning blank as he swallowed hard. “Elain...” 

But she only nodded. 

She did not mind it was him, even seemed happy with the imagination that it would be him that claimed her. 

That his sharp teeth, would mark her for eternity. 

His breath fogged against her skin as he slowly careased her skin with his canine teeth, but he did not bit. 

Though the sensation of his teeth, once again on her skin, did not make her feel lighter.

No,he only created a storm of emotions, as his caloused hands he slowly lifted her and her amrs up. His sinful sweet mouth, loving each part of her skin with a trail of kisses. A wet lick even, macking its way across her left shoulder blade moved to her left shoulder blade. 

Elain shivered under the delight he caused her. It had her throwing her head back as a growel escaped her thightly closed lips. 

But it was this quiet, sinful whiper -as his teeth sunk into the flesh around her ripcage - just below her golden, sweet heart - he would never forget. 

The taste of her blood on his tongue, sending him into a delerium he could never return from.

Never would he be able to unwrap from the flowery seer again. 

And never was he more glad about it than now.

****

The next morning, however, was not as sweet as their night. 

His wake up call, a trail of kisses up his jaw line - warmed his heart, as well as her sweet lucious naked body wrapped in his, but that definetly did not count for his two idiot brothers - that layed as shivering bundles on the couch, still fast asleep. 

The spymaster heaved a sigh at the sight, searching for comfort in the ceiling as he looked up at it. A silent plea on his lips ‘Mother help us all.’

“What is it?” whispered Elain as she appeared from behind him. Her silent stepps unheared, on the white staircase, his shadows not even bothering to anounce her arrival to him. 

Which made it all the easier for her to sneak up on him - closing her arms from behind, as good as she could, around his bulky frame - while her face was burried between the stems of his wings. 

A smile, as soft as the first rays of sunshine, graced his features as he layed one of his hands on her delicate one, that rested over his thumping heartbeat. 

“It’s nothing much. I just think we scared the crap out of these two.” 

With a mocking gesture, did he point to the two strongest ,shivering, warriors of the Night court. Elain smiled, too, as she stepped around him, and took in the rare sight - of the two mightyest warriors - shivering like the leafes of a tree in a storm. A smugg smile on her lips “What do you think would Helion give us, if we showed him this picture?” 

Azriel needed to stiffle his laughter at this and pulled her into his side tackeling her with kisses as he did so, his words only murmured against the top of her head “I think he would pull down the sun for you and present it to you on a silver plattern.” 

Elain squealed in a silent delight as she wriggled around in his arms, trying her best to capture, this sinful mouth of his, with her own. Her eyes shining as bright as the sun itself as she locked them with his “I think I don’t need Helion to do this for me.”

And it was pure male pride that made his heart swell, knowing well - what her words indicated.

But it was the sharp exceal of air, from her, that made him made his heart beat stop for a second, looking down on her in worry as she slowly rubbed the sore spot  on her left ribcage- where he bit her. His bulky arms having squeezed her accidently abith too thight.

“How is it doing?” 

She only smiled up at him. “It’s fine - nothing to worry about.” Azriel only nodded, but worry still lined his face. 

While Elains seemed to radiate off love. Love and adoration - only directed at him. 

And he could not help himself, could not help that pull towards her, as he claimed her mouth. She sighed in reliefe as he finally fullfilled her wish. 

A love drunken smile, on both of their plush lips, as they danced with each other. 

Only the loud bang of the door prevented them from further trouble. 

The two love drunken souls parted with a hurried step, while the two frightened souls, under the mountain of blankets, sat up in a hurry. 

Fear lining their features as they, both, weaponized themselfs with a pillow. Sleep touseled hair sticking out from each of the two heads. 

Both, Azriel and Elain, had to bite their tongues to stiffle their laughter at the sight. Their shoulders still shaink visibly from laughter, as Mor lurched into the room, a bottle of wine ,still, in Mors manicured hands. 

“Hello everyone.” was all she slured - before she too, moved to the couch. Fell over the sofa lean and landed snoring, on the two boys - neither of them dared to move as Feyre, too, staggered into the room. Strooding past Azriel and Elain too, as she flung herself on Mor. 

Rhys and Cassian were still shivering bundles, now crushed under these two drunken, mighty females, but they soon found sleep again. Probably better than without them. 

The secure safeness of their family around them. 

And Elain and Azriel stood there. Arms crossed over their chests and with raised eyebrows. A sigh escaping both of them, at the same time, as they took in the sight of the four idiots that were their lovely family. 

Piled up on the couch - two of them snoring happily while two were a frightened mess.

But both could not deny the warmth, each of them felt spreading through their chest, as they looked at them. Elains voice only a mere whisper as she spoke: “Will you help me with the lunch? I don’t asume that we will have breakfest today.” 

Azriel could only nod, the thought, that he knew what they could eat for breakfest, stuck in the back of his head. 

Maybe for dessert today evening.  

He already licked his lips in anticipation, on what was to come, as he trailed behind Elain into the kitchen. 

Their usual - in usion working atmosphere, spreading through the air - like the love they felt for each other, in their chests. 

And as they worked, quietly and trapped in their own world -Azriel did not feel like an intruder anymore. 

Did not feel like a dark being, that did not belong into the radiant suroundings of the bright kitchen - that were fully Elains kingdome. 

He felt at peace. 

And that peace only increased, as after hours of work - Elain walked past him, putting a lingering kiss on his shirt, directly on his left shoulder, just above the marking she had set yesterday - making sure that his was healing as well as hers. 

Never did he feel that complete. 

Even his family could not shake at that pillar, that was his love, for the sweet seer next to him - as they both sat down at the long table. 

Their family slowly started to fill into the room, at the smell of roasted bacon - the toast, the beans and the fried eggs also lined on the table. Each of the groaning members sat down to eat their brunch in silence. 

Elain and Azriel, though they had the most eventful night, seemingly the only fully woken beings. 

Cassian and Rhys groaned, as they most likely remebered the pictures of ‘Armen’ and ‘Varian’ from last night - while the cause of Mors and Feyres groans was a headache. 

Each of them tired out from their night.

“What have you two been doing that you look so horrible?” questioned Mor suddenly, Rhys and Cassian. No one seemed to care that it were the seer and the shadowsinger, that chocked on their food.

Rhys only groaned as he rubbed his tired eyes “Feyre darling?” “Yes.” “We are moving to a new bedroom.” 

Feyres heavy tiredness lifted, just for a moment, her attention fully fixed on her mate “And why is that?” 

Azriel almost felt sorry for his brother, as he watched him cringe, but the empahsis layed on almost.

And it seemed like the seer shared his opinion, as they both, watched his brothers explain, with an ebarressing amount of detail, the whole scenario from yesterday. 

Mor was laying flat on the table, as she hammered with her fist against the dark table top over and over again. Tears of laughter streaming down her face as she held her aching stomach. Feyre just sat wide eyed and with a shaink head on her chair, pale as a white bed sheet. 

A bed sheet she probably saw stained and crumbled, behind her inner eye, as she imagined what Amren and Varian had done.

While Cassian and Rhys looked like they wanted to hide under the table and even far below that. 

Neither of their family members noticed the arrival of the old ancient female, that watched with a raised brow, a cackling Morrigian. A Feyre who seemed to be in trance, an Rhys and Cassian who were the smallest they could ever made themselfs - all the while Azriel and Elain sat perfectly stiff as ever, eating the final rests of their brunch in silence.

“What is going on here?” 

Their radiant friend, of a golden female, turned her attention to Amren and noted with a wide smirk on her red lips “And did you have fun with Varian last night?” 

Amren only growled “I would not know, why this is any of your business!” 

Before the tiny female could bubble over with her temper - Feyre interupted the ancient female, with a mere whisper of her voice  “It is our business, if you decide to have your fun in Rhys and my bedroom.” 

The silver eyes, of the ancient female,brimmed for a short moment with surprise before a lazy smirk was displayed on her young face. 

Like a cat, lazy and with swirling steps, did she approach her prey. A wide devilish smirk on her lips as she moved to Azriel and Elain - the attention of the whole Inner Circle laying on her petite shoulders, as she settled behind both of their chairs. 

Her claw like hands, shooting to the front, clapped around a shoulder of each one. A shiver wrecking both of their spines, as she leaned in to whisper something to them - but only Elain. “So that’s where my lipstick vanished to.” 

Color drained from the seers face. Amrens words were still too quiet for anyone, expect her and Azriel to hear, but as she lazyly trudged to her seat - loading her own plate with a bit of roasted bacon, she was sure to make that Elain left the table roasted. 

“If you would have just told me, what you needed it for, I would have lend it to you.” 

The seer only cleared her throat, pretending to have not heared the lazy words of the ancient female - diracting the attention rather to someone else that was not in the room. 

“Where have you left Nesta at?” Feyre paled at the question “Oh no,...” but Mor only waved her delicate hand at her in a calming way “Don’t worry about it. Rita had dragged her into one of her spare rooms after she threatened the bartender with an empty bottle of whisky.” 

Cassian snorted at the behaviour of his mate, before he dug into his brunch again, clearly pleased with what Nesta had done.

While Feyre only heaved a sigh. She already dreaded that she had forgoten her oldest sister somewhere in Velaris. Mothers knows where this could have been - this city was too huge for a lone drunken female. 

“So what were you saying?” were the cursed words, with which Mor brough the attention back to the black haired female. 

She only shrugged, that devilish smirk still displayed on her lips, as she pointed her fork at both Azriel and Elain. 

“I hadn’t known you two had it in you.” 

And with that - brunch was over. Cassian chocked on his food, while Rhys and Feyre just looked at them - mouth wide open in shock and disbelief and Mor was howling again.

Her melodic lough turning loud and screechy with every passing minute she looked into the faces of her family. 

Amren knew ecactly what an uproar she would create. 

And she did not regret it, as she saw how the - oh so cold- Spymaster showed more emotions than he did over centuries of living. 

Though it were still no words that spoke for him.

It was the wing - he drapped over the sweet flower grower, that tried to hide herself in the blackness as well as she could - that spoke millions of words. The swirling shadows of the spymaster wrapping around her thighter with each passing minute - minutes in which his family was slowly able to regein back their composure. 

Mor still wringing for air though - and even though she had struggles with her breathing, she was able to fix her attention on Azriel the moment he stood up. Six pairs of eyes pearing up at his motionless, blushing face. 

Though he did not stand long alone. 

It was the move of a dragon, who protected his princess, as he pulled the seer up. Cradeling her against his chest like a new born baby, as he slowly walked to the wide exit of the room. 

Elains baffled eyes fixed on his tense features as his family watched him walk, with flared wings. 

The calmness that layed in his words, as he peared over his shoulder, a last time, was stark in contrast to the things that were to come. 

“Now that you know, we would like to have our peace.” 

The room fell silent. Even Amren was baffled as she watched him walk away, the sweet giggle of the seer for a long time the only thing heared. 

It was only after, they had long left, that the room fell in uproar again. Amren the only one that prosted, with her bacon loaded fork, to the doorframe - through which the mighty Shadowsinger walked with his fawn.

_______________________________________________________________

So this was part four, of the originaly planed one-shot, what do you think? 

I hope it was to your liking @tomtenadia​, though I know it has already been quiet some time since the conversation in which the idea bloomed. I also had originaly planed to put in the part with the boodgy man, but I had never seen the movie and just the few googled pictures gave me the creeps. I should have mentioned that I am a little scarey cat 😅

I also want to apologize if the smut wasn’t that smooth - it was my first time writing something like that. Though I must say I did enjoy writing the brunch scene - I hope it made you laugh as much as it made me. 

Have a lovely day/night

________________________________________________________________

Taglist( please contact me if you want to be added or removed):

@heirofthrnightcourt004​

[ask-the-royals]

(I’m putting a “read more” thing so that it’s organized and you don’t scroll for an eternity. Also, trigger warning for blood and violence.)

(Finally got the confidence I needed to post this. I hope y’all enjoy the beginning of this massive arc!)

Since that meeting with Hubert’s father, King Dearil, it had been a couple of days. The tension ran thick among the others, especially the two princes, but nothing had happened as of late that was of importance. Despite that, Hubert had run out of the castle after sneaking past the guards to not alarm them. He had to get to the garden- and fast.

The sky was rich with black and dotted with silver specks of stars. Dark, ominous clouds prevented moonlight to shine through- no ray dared to trickle through the thick blanket of blackness. The atmosphere rang with silence that was deafening, where no birds or bugs dared to utter a sound. The only sound that echoed within Hubert’s ears were his pounding footsteps as he sprinted, his sword sheathed at his side. The ruby-red blade shimmered faintly whenever any light from a streetlight dared to flicker onto the vermillion sword.

Hubert’s cerulean eyes glowed dimly like shining sapphires as he ran, unsurprised when he could’ve sworn he could hear his thundering heart beat against his chest.

“Damn it Dmitri!” Hubert hissed under his breath, worry creasing his facial expression. He was not one for cussing- he commonly voted against it. But at this moment, he didn’t care. He had to get to the garden, because as he found out, that’s where Dmitri was heading.

He also found out that’s where the intruder was last spotted.

Hubert slowed his sprinting, his breaths coming out as exasperated gasps and heavy, forced huffs. His eyes were sharpened like griffin’s eyes, where his pupils were sharpened into dangerous slits. His head whipped around constantly during his panic as he tried to slow his breaths, but that didn’t do much when he saw the crimson blood that was splattered across the cobblestone road.

Hubert emitted a loud, pained whine- the sound pitiful. His cerulean eyes, slitted like the blades of dual daggers, darted around towards the blood splatter. It was almost like there was a struggle, where the victim had either desperately crawled from the pursuer or was able to flee by foot or other means. Ice patches decorated parts of the cobble, reflecting the low light of the street lamps magnificently.

Hubert pushed onward once he got his second wind, following the path of blood that was laid out in front of him. There was a story of victimization held behind each droplet of blood and each trickle of vermillion that seeped into the cracks of the road, where small seedlings imprisoned the blood with their roots in the soil.

Hubert’s feet made no sound as he hurried forth, his movements as swift as a predator tracking prey. Despite his swiftness and agility, it didn’t take long for him to come to a sudden halt when his keen eye saw the black heap that laid in the middle of the road where no one dared tread. Another loud whisper escaped Hubert’s trembling lips as he sprinted forward and dropped to his knees beside the body that laid there, gasping for breath.

Hubert pulled the man onto his lap quickly, propping him up. His eyes met Dmitri’s as the slightly taller man huddled close to Hubert, his breaths coming out in a forced, pained fashion.

Hubert pressed his hand against Dmitri’s side where there was a deep gash made from a blade. Beautifully dangerous blood stained Hubert’s fingertips almost immediately as he applied pressure, then with his other hand he tugged the corvat from around Dmitri’s neck to firmly tie it over the wound. It was such pristine and perfect fabric of sapphire blue, but the blue was no match for the redness that soaked into the fabric.

“You’re.. you’re going to be alright, okay? You’ll be alright, Dmitri...” Hubert forced out, his cerulean eyes flickering in the darkness towards Dmitri’s response that only came out as a whine.

Hubert was so ready to pick Dmitri up and hurry to the medical ward, but his head abruptly perked towards the faint thrumming of a blade meeting cold air. In one swift movement, he unsheathes his blade with his dominant hand and lifted it while twisting his back. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but he easily met the dual katanas of the attacker. With his sheer strength alone, he shoved back against the downwards pressure of the dual weapons, allowing Hubert to hop to his feet in that split second of breathing space.

Hubert was the only thing standing between this black-cloaked individual from getting to the man Hubert loved. He couldn’t waste any time- Dmitri needed help! But this assassin clearly won’t let up easily.

Silently, the prince watched the assassin’s stance- firm and defining. The assassin was skilled, with their hands holding the two blades; two sides of the same weapon. There was a moment of silence that felt like it dragged on for all of eternity, and with light glinting off of the face of the chromium blades, the assassin struck forward.

Hubert pivoted skillfully on his feet with the swiftness of wind, countering the katanas with his singular blade of crimson. They struck back and forth endlessly, their feet sliding along the cobblestone pavement like two partners in dance. This was a dance of death- one wrong move and it could be over, and both of them knew that fact. Both of them attempted to strike whenever there was any kind o fopening but the other would counter flawlessly as if it was purely instinctual procedure.

Hubert’s eyes, glowing a bright gold instead of cerulean, were sharpened predatory like griffin’s keen eyes. He predicted the assassin’s chromium katanas with ease, even as they danced around each other and had to hop in different directs to avoid the teeth of the blade. For a moment, Hubert met the eyes of the masked assassin, where one eye blazed like a brilliant sapphire and held a sharp contrast to Hubert’s golden gaze.

In that split moment, Hubert hesitated towards the intense, feral glare his attacker gave him. That slight hesitation allowed the assassin to strike in a downwards, angled motion, where the blade met the flesh just beneath Hubert’s left eye. Hubert’s yelp of pain split through the silence of the lonely garden as the warmth of sanguine trickled down Hubert’s cheek from the clean cut. He pivoted swiftly on his feet in a quick recovery to avoid the singing blade of the assassin. In a counter strike, he danced to the side to avoid another slice and ignored the pain throbbing beneath his right eye, his sword soon meeting the assassin’s side.

Hubert briefly perked when he heard the inhuman yelp the assassin emitted. The attacker stumbled back and glanced towards their torn cloak along his side and the blood that fell like raindrops onto the cobble. They perked when Hubert lunged forward but Hubert’s blade met the air as blue light engulfed the assassin, lighting up the area briefly and vanished. The remnants of the teleportation dissipated into the air like white and blue smoke until there was nothing there.

Hubert panted and held his blade for a brief moment to make sure the assassin didn’t return. In that moment of silence, Dmitri’s quiet groan of pain snapped him out of his angry trance. His jaw was set and his teeth had been gritted but his head whipped around to face Dmitri, his slightly feral demeanor immediately softening. He hurried to Dmitri’s side and dropped to his knees after sheathing his sword. In one swift movement, he pulled Dmitri into his arms and held him close to his chest when he rose to his feet.

Hubert couldn’t think clearly but he could faintly feel his feet pounding the ground like thunder and his heavy breaths that escaped his lungs. His head screamed at him to slow down, as did his legs, but he pushed forward towards the direction of the castle. He had to save Dmitri- he had to! Once he knew Dmitri was alright, they could catch the assassin who dared to injure Dmitri.

Hubert’s right eye was closed tightly and instinctively as blood from the cut beneath it trickled down his cheek. The blood had a small chance at flying into his eye but the pain was enough to make him want to close it. He wasn’t thinking clearly either, especially as he stumbled and staggered over uneven cobblestone along the path. He was uncaring of the warm blood that soaked his hands from the crimson that soaked through the cloth pressed firmly against the gash. The gash almost seemed to emit some kind of blue and white smoke that trailed from beneath the cloth.

This was bad.

—————————————

.

.

.

Hubert found himself dozing on and off on the chair he was sitting in, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes. He lifted a shaky hand to his eyes and rubbed them slowly, also brushing some of his messy unkempt hair out of his face. He looked worse for wear and completely exhausted- given the fact that the window outside was bright, it was at least late morning. Whether mere hours or days have gone by, it was impossible to tell. A large bandaged patch was pressed against the cut just beneath his left eye, securely held there by medical tape that could easily be removed once it’s healed.

In front of the prince, Dmitri laid limply on the bed, his breathing slow but rhythmic. It at least wasn’t abnormal. Every time Dmitri inhaled, his bandaged chest would rise and slightly shift the blanket that was draped over him, until he exhaled and his chest lowered. His arms were also bandaged with a fresh wrap, expertly covering his limbs. He seemed unresponsive and Hubert was very clearly worried.

Doctors and medics scurried here and there in the private room they were using for Dmitri. One specific man was looking over Dmitri’s bed, checking his pulse regularly and seeming focused on where the wound was located. The man’s hand was pressed where Dmitri’s wound was covered by bandages before he glanced towards the other prince. “You should get rest, your highness.”

“I don’t want to sleep in case Dmitri needs me, Drogo.” Hubert murmured quietly, lifting his head to focus on Drogo. The unfamiliar man was quite fancy, wearing a full-on tuxedo with dress pants clad in black. His light blue hair was brushed to perfection with a fluffy demeanor and his enchanting ruby-red eyes focused upon Hubert, meeting his gaze.

“I respect that.” Drogo murmured and refocused on Dmitri. “He’s stable.”

Neither of them seemed to notice the askers and anons finally materializing into existence, taking the forms of their previous embodiments. Neither of them seemed to notice how the askers and anons both knew exactly what happened, but hasn’t been able to do a thing.

(Drogo is now available for asks.)

[tipsydipsydo]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 3.7k

Alternative Universe: CEO! AU

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut!

Warnings: Sexual Language + a bit Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Themes (Dom! Hoseok x Sub! Reader); Sadism; Masochism; Degradation; Oral (m); Deepthroating; Cum-Eating; Sextoys; Lingerie; Pet-Play (Collar + Leash); Bondage; Spreader-Bar; Exhibtionism/Voyeurism; Teasing + Edging; Begging; Praising; Orgasm Control; rough (!) unprotected vaginal Sex (please stay safe!); very light mentions of alcohol (one sentences)

A/N: Over the weekend I looked through my old writing folders and... I think I've found some little diamonds in there.

Honestly, I'm impressed by myself.

I've rewritten the perspective of this story here and added some little details but in general I translated the original.

I hope you'll enjoy my old work as much as I did it. 😈💜

By the way... I wrote this story with barely 15.

Let me know what do you think about this story~ 👀🙈

Sneak Peak: "Laying open, completely helpless and so vulnerable in front of him. Presented like a meal on a silver tablet. His meal, his prey. Your wolf is starving, licking his lips with an animalistic and devilish smile at the sight of your parted pussy lips. Revealing his most desired things, this swollen and sensitive clit and this pretty tiny pussyhole. Clenching around nothing, literally begging to get filled with his fat cock and stuffed up with his cum until it’s leaking out of his little sweet swan..."

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「© tipsydipsydo」

The following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

Do not repost, plagiarize, translate or use any of my work in general!

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Please respect that. I’ll fight any illegal use of my work!

Thank you.

With a soft, barely audible click you open the door. A cold breeze welcomes you and caresses your body, giving you goosebumps. Slowly you step out of your bedroom and walk down the long corridor with well-considered steps.

The bright light of the full moon falls through the white, wide open double doors and guides your way. Your black heels clicking softly on the expensive parquet floor and the chains on the straps jingle seductively with every step, giving you self-confidence. Let you sound erotic and elegant without Hoseok even having seen you.

You pause within the frame of the double doors. Looking at the tall man, who’s standing at the huge panoramic window and looking down at Seoul. On the 20th floor you have a breathtaking view.

The moon is full and round, bathing everything in a soft, mystical light. The light breaks in Hoseok's dark hair and makes him look almost angelic. Even though you know he's the devil in an angel’s costume. 

He doesn't turn around to you, waiting for you to come to him.

You look at him closely. The tailored suit fits perfectly around his muscular body. His body proportions are in perfect harmony, he’s a breathtaking attractive man. Add this to his height, it makes him look really intimidating. Sublime.

His face has sharp, masculine features. Controlled. He controls everything. He loves to possess power and to demonstrate it all too clearly. He never loses his temper or acts impulsively. When it comes to those sessions between you two, there are no actions leaded by emotions, only controlled and thoughtful activities. He knows behind every single one its meaning, why he does this.

His skin has a sensual and seductive honey-gold tone. In stark contrast, his eyes shine in a cool, almost black brown. You have never seen such a dark eye colour and maybe that’s it what attracts you to him. 

This special, rare thing about him makes him incredibly attractive for you. It's like having a very rare diamond. It's the uniqueness of it that makes you want to own it. But in your case, it's the other way around. He owns you. And that's what makes you feel fulfilled.

Even though others may not see it that way, he gives you so much of himself. With it you not even mean the material things, he gives you so much of his love.

Yes, it’s love. His affection and loving torments, how he cares for you, the way he gives you commands and taking control. That is what fills you the most and it’s also the reason why you can give yourself completely to him. Hoseok takes your control and turns it into his own.

Others would panic if they were deprived of personal control. But if he takes it from you, then he will take care of you, so you can let yourself fall. Giving you more control than before. You trust him, he knows your limits and keeps to them strictly. He has control over everything and leaves nothing to luck or chance. That’s the reason why you trust him so much. He doesn’t act impulsively and rashly, he never crosses the boundaries.  

This control, this power that he has and exercises on others is what fascinates you so much. You love this dominance in him, it gives you a sense of security and safety. He doesn’t make any mistakes, you can completely let yourself go with him. Finally you have found the person who fits you perfectly. He has this special power, dominance and control and what you want is to submit to him completely, to obey him. 

Just the sight of him and this dominant aura around him excites you. You breathe out audibly and can hardly take your eyes off him. You know that you’re not undiscovered. Hoseok knows perfectly well that you are standing here, shamelessly staring at him. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't rebuke you, because he loves your awestruck, admiring gaze.

He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He knows, no, he feels it in every fiber of his body how much you want to submit to him and beg him to give you any kind of relieve or satisfaction. His self-satisfied smile is already visible on his lips.

Your breath hitch, you shallow hard, your décolleté rises and falls quickly. Now you realize how hard your buds already are under the very fine tip of your negligee. The reason for this are these wild fantasies that are haunting you in your pretty head.

How you would love it to be tied to the bed again. Lying completely exposed under him, while he pours champagne over your breasts and letting it run over your stomach onto your until it collects in your navel. How much do you long for him to punish you when you are dying of lust and can't keep still... 

Every warning bite on your nipples sent a wave of sweet pain through your body, causes that a lot more of your juice is flowing out of you. You can remember how you moaned as you writhed under him, completely exposed and helpless to face his punishments. You thought at first, he’d give you finally some relieve when he pushed the vibrator into your clenching hole. But still, he refused to let you cum... 

His face was filled with pure satisfaction, he enjoyed hearing you beg... even dirty words left your otherwise shy mouth, out of pure desperation. That brought an amused smile on his lips. 

Hoseok loves to demonstrate his power and influence, it amuses himself how quickly you've fallen for the devil. No wonder he keeps calling you "my defiled angel." But you are so aroused by his arrogance, his self-confidence and cockyness. There's nothing you can do about it. You've gone right into his trap. The big bad wolf has captured the innocent Swan. The dying swan. Blood, the dark red blood stains the snow-white, pure feathers, while the black wolf's canines around her throat. 

"Turn the music on.” It’s the first thing that Hoseok say to you this night. His voice is deep and commanding, you obey his commands all too willingly. 

You step quietly to the stereo and turn it on. His chosen CD must be already in the music player. Now the sounds of slow piano play and the dark, erotic voice of a woman fill the plain, unadorned room.  White walls with light wooden beams, white leather couch and some fake fur blankets lie over the armrests of the furniture, which however look very real. A huge plasma TV dominates the room, together with some large boxes. On the right wall there is a huge bookshelf. Only filled with works in their original languages. Hoseok knows them all perfectly. 

Your ears focus on the slow but stimulating song that comes quietly out of the speakers. Toxic. Involuntarily you have to think immediately of this korean man, who still looks unperturbed at the huge metropolis to his feet. 

Too much time has passed, you made him wait, which he absolutely hates! You swallow nervously, at the sound of his voice you should have noticed it immediately! He sounded a little annoyed and waiting. Others would not have heard it, but you have already learned to hear that little difference. The emphasis of the words alone! God, how stupid and inattentive you are! Hoseok hates it when his counterpart doesn't concentrate completely on him and his wishes. Then he becomes very unpleasant and just his cold gaze punish you more than any spanks. 

With a weak stomach and chewing nervously on your lower lip, you start moving and slowly walk towards him. The translucent chiffon hugs your naked thighs tenderly and the cool air on your uncovered womanhood shoots a stimulating tingle through your body. Under this almost completely transparent black negligee you’re wearing nothing.

Your face is adorned with a filigree venetian mask. It is made of black metal and the transparency of it gives you just little anonymity. At the ends it is adorned with dark green diamond particulas and and on the bridge of your nose sparkles an emerald diamond. At his request you wear this outfit.

Your breasts sways gently with every step, the lace fabric rubs against your hard nipples and let the hot ball in your abdomen grow bigger. The small lust balls swings a little in yourself, let hot shivers of lust running down your spine. The light swinging of the balls in your sextoy heats your desire up with every step, so that your arousal is already running down the insides of your thighs. Let the beguiling smell of femininity exude.

You have to bite your lower lip in order not to whimper out loudly and your hands turns into fists, you wish, you could touch yourself for some relief. You’re so unbelievable desperate, even you would call yourself pathetic. But without his own instructions, Hoseok wouldn't find this funny at all and would punish you without any mercy for your indiscipline.

"How can I serve you, Master?" you ask quietly, your head lowered submissively, after stopping a few meters behind your dom. At first, Hoseok doesn't react until he slowly turns around after two minutes. "Why did you wait so long, Y/N? Why were you late?" he asks in a calm, demure tone. 

"I...I...", you start stuttering, looking for an excuse that doesn't sound as pathetic as the actual reason. That you were dreaming away and forgot the time. But Hoseok knows you and sees through your intentions immediately. 

He steps towards you, threatening you and overtowering your small frame. His aura is suddenly freezing cold and even if you can't see his face, you know that you would only find cold anger and displeasure in it.  How his jaw would be clench and his nostrils would be flaring as if he had actually problems to control himself. But his gaze is the most humiliating. 

Cold, icy dark brown, almost black eyes. Showing only resentment and disappointment. 

"Are you thinking about lying to me right now, Y/N?", he asks with a harsh and growling voice that has nothing in common with anything melodic anymore. You should have known never, really never lie to Mr. Jung Hoseok. 

"Answer me!", he groan angrily and impatiently, assessing you like a hungry predator. As soon as you admit you wanted to lie to him, he will pounce on you and tear you apart. But that's what makes you hot, you like to play with fire, you like to test your limits with him, love the thrill and excitement of being punished again. 

You’re so uncomfortable right in the moment, your gaze searches over shiny parquet floor, not daring to look up. You don't even know if you are allowed to. But this dangerous aura of Hoseok's dominance lets a little moan escape your throat. Lust takes over your body, taking every fiber of your whole being.

Finally you dare to look up carefully, but you doesn’t look him in the eye.  "I-I'm sorry, M-Master..." you mumble inaudibly. A sigh comes from your husband, who shakes his head. The moonlight shimmers in his hair, reminding you a bit of the velvety fur of a black panther. 

"...And I thought I reached you better. Why are you always so dreamy and inattentive? Is it that what you want? Do you long for punishments, my little swan?," he cooed as he approached you and grabbed your hair, pulling it not really gently back so you would look at him. His black eyes searching yours, looking inside you. He can read your mind you like an open book. 

He sees all your desires, your desires for him. The desire to submit to him and to let the dirtiest things be done to you. It makes you hot, it makes you horny. Pure desire, lust and despair pulsates through your body. Sexual need, the longing for sex, naughty play sessions, punishment and redemption dominates your mind and body.  A greedy fire of passive passion blazes hot inside you.

His gaze, which consumes everything of you, frees you with his eyes from the little bit of cloth, which you still carry on your body. Exposes and humiliates you. But you love to e under control of this dominant Korean man, following his will. The confirmation can be seen on your body, your arousal can almost be smelled. 

You want to swallow, but your body trembles with excitement like aspen leaves and a thin layer of sweat lies on your skin. The tight-fitting choker collar with its many details and chains reminds you at this moment more of a dog collar... It turns out for a good reason.

A pant leaves your full lips and you look at him with eyes, veiled in lust.  "Please punish me, Master! I-I want, I need to be punished for my stupidity! M-Make anything you want with me!" it bursts out of you, your voice trembles in lust. He begins to smile arrogantly and amusedly, releases your hair from his merciless grip and instead gently caresses your neck.  

"Good girl...", he says tenderly, praises you for having realized that you deserve an appropriate punishment for your misconduct. Suddenly he pushes your hair on your left shoulder, to get to the clasp of the chocker. Then something very cold hits your warm neck, causing you to flinch. You look up confused and discover a black leather leash, that is attached to your choker. Hoseok encourages you with an uninterpretable smile and tug on the leash.

"Come, my little.", he commands and you follow him well-behaved. A wild tingling sensation takes over your body and you are so curious to know what he has planned for you.  A lustful moaning escapes your mouth when you see where he is leading you.

To your pleasure room.

He opens the room quietly and you enjoy the smell that is still hanging in the air.  Suede, lacquer and a little bit more of the sparkling sweetness of your past play sessions. The light is dimmed, gives the whole thing an erotic-sensual touch. Your relationship is a little different.

Of course, he punishes you with tender slaps and spanks, tortures you until you die of sweet pain that’s paired up with irrepressible lust, but with you everything is based more on the balance of power. 

You enjoy being submissive, being given orders and being dominated. He loves to demonstrate his power to control you.  It doesn't have to have anything to do with physical pain, it's simply about the principle of power play. It excites you to be led and humiliated by him. To see his proud and superior, but also lustful smile.

Your master goes to the restored, antique-looking wing chair with the mahogany wooden feet. He sits down in it and straightens up in the armchair almost threateningly.  "On your knees," he says in a commanding tone, that is otherwise only found in the military and make an elegant gesture to you, to get down on your knees. 

Your heart makes a jump, his commanding voice only makes your pussy lips and clitoris swell even more. What would you give to have him eating you out. What... what would he do it if you’re literally offering yourself to him? But you do what you are ordered to, kneeling down to his feet and waiting for that what comes next.

"And now... lick them off", the order comes from above and he holds out his shiny polished brown suede shoe. You falter... You have to lick his shoes...? Unsure you look up to him with an questioning look. A nod of encouragement is returns to you. You swallow before carefully taking his left foot in your hands and holding it to your lips. 

This really makes you a bit uncomfortable and that's exactly why there is such a treacherous pull in your abdomen. Only more of your juice is flowing down your thigh. A little bit awkwardly you start to lick over the leather, getting over the time more and more eager and you end up enjoying it even in a precarious way.  The bitter taste of material is new for you, but with shy looks you squint at Hoseok, who obviously enjoys the sight. Lust seizes your body anew and you surrender completely to your humiliating punishment.

He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up a little. Between his legs, to his crotch. You look at him excitedly and this animal lust in his dark eyes says more than every word. 

Eagerly you open his trousers and pull down the waistband of his black shorts. His rock-hard cock jumps towards you and almost unrestrainedly you give yourself to his unspoken command. Licking all over this gorgeous shaft, massaging his balls and inhaling this musky scent of his groins. Pulling the foreskin back from his tip to give sweet kitten licks on his exposed crown. 

Hoseok's lustful look lies heavy on you, until he puts a hand on the back of your head and decides for himself what you do or don't do. He fucks your mouth in a controlled manner, guides your head and you enjoy the salty taste of his presumably on your nimble tongue. A muffled groan rises up Hoseok's throat before his cum runs down your throat. Willingly you swallow everything, licking lasciviously over your lips and give him a seductive look. You love that smug look on his face. 

"Such a good little swan you are for me...," he rewards you, gets up an lead you to the finally giant king-size bed, which is covered in black silk. 

He ties your leath tightly to the metal crossbars on the headboard so that you can hardly move. Exactly this fact causes a wave of electrifying lust flickers through you and you whimper willingly as you have to pull your knees up to your chest, as he ties your wrists with red rope to your ankles and attaches a spreader bar between your knees.  

He smiles smugly at you, your whole body is almost completely consumed by the pleasure you feel in being so exposed to him. His hand tenderly caresses your sweaty thigh and his fingertips play with your swollen clitoris. Then he clears his throat.  

"My little swan... You have mastered your punishment so well, now you may have the right to choose a reward... what would it be?" he asked tenderly and his dark lustblown pupils look into yours.  You tremble under his haunting gaze, your body soon burns from the inside out, such heat rages within you. The wish is already on your tongue, but your shame is still too big to say it out loud. 

"What do you wish, my beautiful swan?," Hoseok encouraged you with his dark, erotic voice and a... kinda diabolical smile. 

"Fuck me, Master! P-Please! I-I want you to stretch my tiny pussy open with your hard cock, I want you to be merciless, ruin me like you desire and fill me up with your thick cum!", you almost scream out with dark red cheeks. In that moment, he had pulled the lustballs out of you, with only one single tug.

You breath quickly, panting almost like a dog bitch in heat. Laying open, completely helpless and so vulnerable in front of him. Presented like a meal on a silver tablet. His meal, his prey. Your wolf is starving, licking his lips with an aminalistic and devilish smile at the sight of your parted pussy lips. Revealing his most desired things, this swollen and sensitive clit and this pretty tiny pussyhole. Clenching around nothing, literally begging to get filled with his fat cock and stuffed up with his cum until it’s leaking out of his little sweet swan.

Without any warning Hoseok sinks mercilessly and deeply into you, didn’t let you adjust to his long and girthy length. The rhythm is hard and fast. It’s exactly what you were begging for. Lust has taken over your mind and there was no room for shame. Hoseok pants heavily and bury himself deeper and deeper into you, reaching your cervix what let you cry out in pain and pleasure. You hardly know how to handle your lust, it feels like as if everything is already too much but still not enough to pleasure the greedy desire in your body. He fucks you so good, you’re overflowing with juices.

Your pussy makes lewd squelching sounds, these noise turns you on beyond belief and let your desperate cunt literally dripping onto the sheets. The smell of primal, animalistic and uninhibited sex is hanging heavily in the air.  Hoseok's white dress shirt gets sweat stains and this sight, this feeling of his pure lust makes you float.

You’re getting closer and closer in no time. The fact of getting brutally used only for Hoseok’s own pleasure let your own lust increase, building it higher and higher into the sky. The thought alone to know, that he’ll take you this night definitely to the point of pure exhaustion gets you high. Yes, maybe you are a nymphomaniac, but at this moment you want nothing more than to get fucked and breeded by Hoseok like the cockslut you truly are.

Your body burns, is ablaze with light and finally... finally that moment comes when all that pent-up lust bursts out of you. Your body trembles and you scream, whimpering out the lust of your orgasm. The world explodes before your inner eye in the most beautiful colors.

Only a few minutes later, Hoseok is already sitting in front of you again, smiling devilishly and watching his cum slowly dripping out of you. 

The night has just begun.

Yes, you are the fallen angel who has fallen to the devil. 

You are the white swan who fell victim to the black wolf.

[bts-storys]

Vampire Boy

Author: bts-storys

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

Rating: 15+

Genre: Strangers to lovers/ Nightclub AU /Oneshot

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,511

Summary: You spot a stranger at a nightclub who instantly catches your attention.

A/N: Hey there, this is my first post and I will probably change my writing perspective in the next fic. Hope you like it nonetheless.

He stood there, right in front of the club.

His black hair as dark as the night, but shining in every color because of the dancing lights. As soon as she looked at him, she knew she was a goner. His tall figure casually leaned against the wall as if there wasn't -10 degrees outside. He was wearing only black. Black pants, a black shirt under a black vest and black leather shoes. His silver earring was blinking in her direction like an invitation. She was freezing in the entrance line waiting to get in, getting more impatient by the second. He turned around, leaving to climb down the stairs to get inside again. She knew she should have been more observant as the people in front of her grew fewer, but she could only stare in the darkness behind him. 

 Finally, it was her turn to get in, her friends being impatient as well but for different reasons. When they got down the stairs, meeting the hot air, people were standing everywhere. Dancing, drinking, talking, having a night to remember. The chances of seeing who she had secretly named 'Vampire boy' were getting tiny. After putting away their jackets, she and her friends headed towards the bar, when her breath hitched. There he was. 

Talking to one of his friends while waiting for his drink. It was even more thrilling to look at him from nearby. His lips were in a deep tone of red while his eyes were as dark as his hair and his skin as white as hers. She couldn't look away, even if she had wanted to, when he turned his head looking her straight in the eye. A small smirk appeared on his lips like he knew exactly that she had been staring the whole time. Embarrassment flooded through her body making her look away, blushing. One of her friends suggested to get some drinks and everyone agreed. 

 She was standing behind them, waiting to get what she ordered, when she felt someone bump against her, making her loose balance. The floor was getting dangerously close until a pair of hands grabbed her waist, keeping her from falling. Her back was pressed against someone's chest and while taking a surprised gasp she instantly knew whose it was. He smelled like midnight and cherries and it made her head spin even more. 

 "Are you okay?", a deep voice asked right next to her ear. 

She turned around and his hands left her waist, keeping her left arm instead, as to make sure she wouldn't lose her balance again. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you." she said breathlessly, her face right in front of his. 

"Maybe you could come with me. We have a lounge upstairs. It's less dangerous than getting run over down here." 

He was being nice and kind of funny, but she could hear in his voice that this was so much more than a simple invitation. She was truly paralyzed by the way he looked at her until she saw the question in his face. 

Turning around, her friends were already looking at her, throwing smiles and thumbs ups. The next moment he took her hand, guiding her through the people and up the stairs. His movements were soft but strong, he never once had to stop his steps and the way his hand wrapped around hers felt just safe. 

 Upstairs she found herself in front of a big chilling area with sofas and tables. The music from the dancing area was still loud and present, because there was no window in between, but there weren't as many people. She could tell he was heading to a side table further away where some of his friends and another girl were already waiting. All of them had dark, black hair and the girl looked really beautiful with her painted eyes and tinted lips. 

She knew she wouldn't fit in. 

Her eyes had too much contrast and her hair was too bright, something even her black dress and black tights couldn't change. But when he positioned her between himself and the other girl, someone handed her a drink and she forgot the thoughts she had before. The liquid had a reddish brown color and tasted bitter at first but then some kind of sweetness was pushing through. 

It was just the kind of taste she imagined his lips to be and when she looked at him, he was already staring at hers. She put a strain of loose hair behind her ear, shyly looking away because of the intensity of the moment. She felt his hand under her chin turning it back his way. 

 "Don't look away." 

 Even though he was almost whispering she could understand every word clearly. 

 "What's your name beautiful?" 

"I'm not gonna tell you. But I'll go with ‘beautiful’ instead, vampire boy”, she said with a smile spread across her face. 

At first, he seemed a little taken aback from her reaction but then he was smiling too, playing along with her little game. 

"Give me your phone." 

She gave it to him and he was typing for a long time while she was taking another sip from her drink. She felt a small hand on her shoulder and turned around just to see the girl next to her smiling welcomingly. 

"Do you want another one of that?", the girl asked pointing to the almost empty drink. 

Agreeing she let her pour in some more liquid from one of the bottles on the table. 

"This is one of my favorite drinks, do you like it?", the girl asked while pouring in something else. 

"Yes!", she said. "It tastes really good, almost like there wasn't any alcohol in it." 

"Those are the worst ones", the girl said with a little wink, handing her the finished drink. 

"Cheers!" 

After taking a sip she felt his hand on her leg. He was handing her the phone back, capturing her eyes with his again. Her chest felt tight and for one moment she forgot how to breathe. His features were sharp but soft, just where they should be and his eyes were looking at her seriously but also playfully. 

"Do you wanna dance?" 

She nodded as soon as the words left his lips, standing up just as quickly. Leading the way, she took him away from the sitting area to the front, where they had a fantastic view over the whole club. She couldn't make out her friends down there but they would surely be dancing right now. She could feel his breath on her neck and in her hair as she started moving slowly to the beat. Then his hands were on her hips, going with her dancing and bringing her closer to him at the same time. 

He was now looking at her from above and that's what made her feel like the queen of the whole club. Dancing on her own stage with only him as her viewer. It felt like there was nobody else in the room, only them and the music. When she felt his lips on her ear she took a sharp inhale. 

"You look so beautiful." 

Growing more confident she leaned back, still moving, but letting her hands find their way down his neck. He let out a low growl. 

"You okay, vampire boy?", she asked teasingly. 

"Why 'vampire boy'?". His breath was brushing down her neck again and she felt her belly get hot. 

"Can't you tell? Because you look like you're gonna be the death of me." 

Now he was smiling into her hair. "Come on beautiful, let's go back. I wanna introduce you to my friends." 

"I'll catch up on you in a few minutes", she said, heading for the bathroom.

Even though the club was boiling hot, her body felt cold without him. Looking into the mirror she exhaled briefly. Her cheeks were a little pink but her hair was still in place and her eyeshadow wasn't smeared. 

"Excuse me, may I use that too?", she asked the girl next to her who was redoing her lipstick. Without a word the girl gave it to her. It was a deep red color making her lips stand out of her pale face even more. 

On her way back, she headed up the stairs again, just to get stopped by a tall boy. "Hey do you want a drink? What's your name?", he said conversationally while trying to guide her to the bar with his hand on her back. 

"Hands off." 

A deep voice suddenly spoke up behind them, forcing the boy to turn around. Vampire boy grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the bar into his embrace. 

"I said hands off." 

The boy first looked like he wanted to resist but then just shrugged. "No problem man, didn't want to take something from you", he said leaving without a second glance. 

Vampire boy took her back to his lounge again but didn't let her sit down. Instead he placed her on his lap as to make sure no one would touch her again. His hands rested casually on her thighs, while hers began sweating because of his soft touch. Her body stiffened trying not to show any kind of reaction but he noticed anyway. 

"You okay, beautiful?", he used her own words against her. 

She could just nod, which made him laugh. The vibration of his laughter went through her body and she had to control herself even more. 

"Let me introduce my friends to you.", he said right next to her ear. "The boy on the left side is called Jimin. He looks cute and doesn't speak much, but he always gets what he wants. Be careful around him." 

The boy he was talking about had pink lips and his cheeks looked a little chubbier than the rest of his face. He looked younger than everyone else but maybe she was just thinking that because of his appearance. 

"The boy next to him is his older brother Namjoon. Their parents are both lawyers. The girl is called Nadja. She's his girlfriend and the only girl he ever talks to so don't blame yourself if he won't answer to any of your questions." 

All of them wore expensive clothes and watches but she could tell the brothers looked just a little richer than everyone else. Except for vampire boy. 

 Just when she looked at the older brother his gaze was wandering through the room, not even stopping at the sight of her. She gulped one time, looking away as fast as possible. Vampire boy was explaining to her who everyone else was, but she found it hard to focus, as he had started to rub circles with his thumb on her right thigh. After some time Nadja and the brothers went off for some dancing which she hardly noticed because she had to focus on breathing regularly. 

"Are you listening beautiful?", his low voice pulled her out of her trance, his thumb stopping its movements. 

"Hm?" 

"I said everyone's gone, there's enough space for you to sit next to me", he repeated himself with a smile. 

There had been enough place before but she didn't say something. Smirking she turned her head. 

"What if I want to keep sitting right here?" 

Instead of moving next to him she turned around on his lap, straddling him. Suddenly his face was only inches away from hers and she felt her heart beating faster in her chest. He was so beautiful and she didn't know where to look at. His gaze was on her lips the whole time, but when she tried to push herself further away, he looked into her eyes, holding her in place with his hands on her hips. 

"Don't. Stay." 

His fingers brushed over her cheek, fiddling with a strain of her hair, running down the side of her neck. She leaned into his touch, her body warming up again. Her hands were resting on his chest and she could feel his muscles underneath the material. Her fingers played with the edges of his vest while his were stroking down the sides of her body. When they came to the one sensitive spot right below her breasts a small sigh escaped her lips. She could smell his perfume, wanted to drown in it, but most importantly she wanted to know if his lips were as soft as they looked like. 

Her hands were now touching the skin right above his collar. His chest was raising fast and he looked even more dark than before, while she was almost glowing under his touch. The tingling in her belly felt like a thousand stars rushing through her veins. His hot breath smelled like Alcohol and mixed with his heavy perfume, it made her head spin. The tension between them was almost touchable. 

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore his lips crushed with hers. They felt soft and smooth even though the kiss itself was nothing near it. His hands were all over her, brushing, stroking, gripping, while she pulled some strands of his hair, scratching his neck with her nails. He grabbed her hips pulling them even closer, grinding against her. He bit down on her bottom lip giving his tongue access to her mouth. The kiss grew sloppier turning into a heated make-out session. His low growls mixed with her faint moans, letting both of them forget everything around. 

He tasted even better than she had imagined. His lips were sweet but at the same time his breath was sharp and addicting. The lack of oxygen made her feel dizzy but she couldn't get enough until he pulled away slowly. Both of them were breathing heavily like they just came back from a run. Her cheeks were flushed and his eyes had a dark glimmer in them. 

"Let's go for another dance, beautiful", he whispered, pulling her up with him.

 On the way downstairs, her legs were trembling and only his hand kept her from falling down. Dancing with him was even more overwhelming than before. With their bodies pressed against each other he made sure no one would touch her except for him. Every part of him was electrifying and she could never get enough of it. 

When her friends came searching for her after what felt like an eternity, he pulled her into a long, deep kiss before turning around without glancing back.

 On the train back she couldn't focus on what her friends would tell her. Their words were only hushed noises in the background, all she could think about was him. Her phone buzzed pushing her out of her dreams back to reality. 

On the display it said "Vampire boy" which made her heartbeat increase within one second. The message included only an address of another club and the words 

Friday night. 11 o'clock. Be there. 

A smile sneaked onto her lips. There was no need for an answer. 

She would be there and he knew.

© Bts-Storys, 2021. Do not copy or repost without permission.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it!

[herald-divine-hell]

Warming Treats in Cold Days

A/N: Is it winter time? No? Not yet? Well, I don’t give a damn. Have some wintry fluff with Amayian and Leliana as a married couple!

-

When Leliana peaked out from a pulled scarlet curtain, the fabric heavy but recently pressed and swipe of any shrouds of dust, she watched as stars fell, flashing silvery-white beneath the cool strands of pale sunlight, from a blanket of silvery and gray clouds. In the far distant, she could just make out the wavered small dot of the early morning sun, a disc of pearly white. Snow clamped over leafless branches, wooden arms twined in a tapestry of darken browns and glimmering whites. Darkness pooled, with slivers of gray streaked with flashes of white. Mounds of snow piled, and the once bluish-green lake near the gardens, used often for swimming, was a solid smooth ground of ice, splashes of blue and black within the white surface. For a few moments, she watched the colors trembled and twirled, as if the water underneath the lake danced freely within its frosty constrains.

Shivering, Leliana let the curtain fall back into place, pale light cut out aburpt. But there was enough of the amber glow of torches burning in iron-wrought sconces to keep herself from tripping or getting lost. Tugging at the heavy velvet blue bathrobe, regretting not throwing on a blouse before heading out her bedchambers, Leliana began her strode toward the kitchens. At least her feet were warm, stepping on the carpets of blue and red. Before she had walked off, she let her toes flex and wiggle against the soft surface, like she was stepping on a warm summer cloud. Leliana wished that it was summer. The winters in Ostwick was unbearable, somehow even worse than the ones in Ferelden.

The castle was quiet, the only soft whisper of the winter winds pattering against glass window panels, intersected in crosses of iron, and the low chippers from the torches. Leliana was glad that the children did not wake up yet, though she knew partly the reason why they slept so late into the night was because they spent it scavenging the castle for the secret pathways and rooms their father had hinted about. They had only found one, an ancient armory filled with swords, battleaxes, pikes, spears, and arrows. Amayian and her had only just been able to put Jacqueline off learning the spear - she already had her sword-training to do. Yet the girl had as much patience as her father. Leliana was the pinnacle of patience...when it mattered.

Shaking her head, Leliana could not keep the soft chuckle from bubbling at her chest. Jac has heard far too many stories of us. Especially Leliana. Amayian did not waste a moment in story time to praise Leliana’s abilities, fictional or real. The man was as stubborn as a Ferelden.

Pushing the stone doors, laced with hammered silver twined in vines and rearing stallions, Leliana found her husband in a pleasing sight.

A low hum came from the man, who’s neck was bent down, looking at something hidden from Leliana’s view. Though, what she saw was something she would never complain about, either. Scars littered the broad, muscular back, white lines that slash here and others there, some curving around over his side. Some new scratches also accompanied the old battle scars, and Leliana could not keep the small curl of her lips from rising to her face even if she had wanted to. Battles happen on fields or by sea; others in the bedroom. Or in Amayian and Leliana’s case, any surface they could get their hands on. A shiver crawled up her spine in memories, and warmth sparked within her limbs, knitted at her heard, before slowing seeping down between her thighs. There will be chances like that for later.

But besides the lovely sight of her husband, a sweet scent lingered in the air, alongside warmth that caused already blossomed goosebumps to riddle further down her arms and back. The scent caused her smile to grow, lapsing, if not for a moment, the desire into the back of her mind. She trod gently up to her husband, his great size dwarfing her even more so without the help of her shoes.

Arms wrapped around a wide waist, the roughness of scars and the tautness of skins contrasting well with the warmth rolling off him, like some beating fire within a furnace. Amayian never seemed to be touched by the changing of seasons, be it warmth or cold. His body always adapted, but for Leliana, she preferred when he was warm. Her body felt always safe with his unending warmness, and his strong arms around her. She felt small compared to him when she did the same, but she tightened her muscles and nuzzled her face into his back, taking in his earthy scent, touched with something warm, alive; a fire within the liveliness of woods.

A chuckle came from her husband. “Good morning to you, as well, ma cherie.” She could hear the smile upon his lips.

When she glanced up, one eyelid lifting lazily open, she saw Amayian glance over her shoulder, down at her. Golden eyes burned with a touch of scarlet, like flaming morning sunlight capture in pools. A soft rustle and clatter came from beyond her vision, and Amayian turned as easily as a flow of air, smooth and swift. Heavy, muscular arms wrapped around her, a large hand tipping her head back, before soft lips met hers in a gentle molding and graze. A sigh left her lips before she could stop herself, but Amayian’s were gone as swiftly as fall. Leliana could not keep the pout from her lips.

Amayian’s lips were just a shadow of a smile, a mere twerk of the corner of his lips. There was a hunger within Leliana to kiss those lips again, especially the small scar that cut his upper lip. “Tease,” murmured Leliana, softly, but her fingers began to trace the curves and lines of his muscles, and the gentle bumps of his scars over his back. ��Good morning.”

His smile grew, and Leliana’s heart ached, beating with affections she once had to keep so hidden and locked away. Now it flourished like a flower in spring, petals flaring out in a need-filled embrace. One of her hands lifted away from his back, raked through the chest hair and over the long jagged scar crossing from his right shoulder down to his left side of his hips - she stopped for a moment to lay a kiss at it - before cupping a chiseled jaw, the scruff of a beard tickling her palm as her thumb roamed gently over the edge of a cheekbone. His dark black hair came in waves, curling at the tips, a little passed his shoulders. Peppers of gray touched his temples. Save for the darkness bagged underneath his eyes, he seemed younger in a way, despite the graying hair. He always looked younger when he smiled, far less severe.

A few moments passed, brown-touched blue eyes meeting scarlet-splashed golden eyes, the calling of flame and wind edged away into near silence. The world bleed away. There was only them, safe and happy and alive.

Leliana stepped on her tip-toes, hands resting on his broad shoulders, and kissed the center where the scar lashed over the skin above his heart. “What are you doing?”

Another chuckle, though this one was touched with shyness. That only caused Leliana to raise her eyebrow. Amayian turned away from her, stepping to the side, and Leliana’s other rested eyebrow lifted alongside the other. Surprise filled her.

Before her were eight silver cups with steam weaving thinly overhead, beneath twirls of some white cream that thinned at a point at the end. “Hot chocolate?” And beside that were platters of sweets, some Orlesian in origins, others in Ferelden or Ostwickan; a few were crusted in white glaze, others dripped with chocolate and crowned with strawberries. Leliana glanced at her husband, smiling. “This is what you’ve been up to the entire morning?”

Amayian nodded, his smile never wavering. It never seem to waver when it came to Leliana or the children. Leliana’s heart was touched with that, the desire before slipping away into something softer, sweeter. He is far too good for me. Regardless of how many times Amayian denied it, Leliana knew it to be true. Stop it. No need to be a downer, not now. He is yours. Be thankful for that. And she was, more thankful than she was had been in her life. Sometimes, however, it felt as if she was unworthy of any affection Amayian gave her. Enough this, you foolish girl.

Once more, she stepped on her toes to press a kiss on his chin. She was too short to give him one on his cheek. Amayian laughed at that, and bent down, pressing a light kiss to her lips that made her breathless, her mind numb, emptying of all thoughts besides the feel of Amayian against her; of only Amayian. “Go ahead, have some hot chocolate. It’s an old family recipe,” said her husband - her husband. How long would it take for her to stop being so giddy at that? - in a low murmur, like the deep echoes of a cavern beneath a mountain.

Leliana pressed against him, his warmth ebbing away the cold, as she reached a hand to grasp the handle of the tea cup. It was silver wrought, with lines of gold twined in elaborate loops which encircled around the sides and rim. Leliana lifted it to her lips, felt the ticklish of the white cream against her upper lip, and than the sudden rush of warmth dancing with the coolness of the cream. Her body shivered. It was just sweet enough to get her addicted, truth be told. When she pulled away, inhaling a sharp of breath that seemed cool in comparison to the drink, Leliana said, “Delicious.”

Amayian’s lifted his own cup, a smirk twerked at his lips. “You now have a mustache, my dear.”

Leliana blinked, raising a finger to upper lift, and a smear of something went over it. She glanced at the white fluffy cream, and giggled. “I suppose I do.” She licked it and smiled. “That too is delicious. Did you make all of this yourself?”

Amayian said nothing, eyes trained on the licked finger, a hint of blush on his cheeks. Leliana smirked at the realization of what she had just done, but Amayian quickly regained his ground with a cough into his hand, and a slow drink of his own drink. “Yes. It took me a while, though you tried it once, you had tried it one thousand times in my family.” He sipped at his coffee again, a white glaze splattered over his own black mustache. He dabbed at it with a napkin. “Let’s get this settled for the kids. I have one last surprise.”

Leliana’s eyebrow rose again, and watched as the platters that contained the cups of hot chocolate and sweets lifted into the air, trailing behind Amayian, as he wrapped his arm around Leliana’s waist and began walking to the living room.

They enjoyed the quiet as they made their way toward the room. When the doors opened without any physical effort, Leliana was alarmed by the transformation.

The once neat room, with high-backed wooden chairs, with cushions of soft velvet, long walls trailed with books in bookshelves, and a marble hearth blazed with fire had been turned into a winter wonderland. Snow fell light and gentle onto blankets of white, some where mounds rose in a gentle lift. Trees of fire twined with branches of scarlet and gold and violet and azure. Ribbons of light danced high into the air, in the currents of winds, some shivering out into a constellation, be it man or dragon or griffin, before returning into those streaming stars. Their couch had been moved, facing away from the fire, toward this great snow-filled play of lights and flame.

Amayian walked toward the coach, the snow never once seeping into itself in the shape of a footprint, and she did her best not to disturb it as well. As they placed the platters and plates onto a table made of ice, with curve legs, and with flaming tendrils playing about underneath in a dance of shadow and light, Amayian drew her close, and onto the couch. Leliana let herself grow limp against her husband, cuddling close as she rose her feet onto the coach, resting it to the side of her body. She still held her cup of hot chocolate in her hand, as did Amayian. Neither of them said anything for a while, taking in the display wrought by her husband. “It’s beautiful.”

“You are,” said Amayian, and when Leliana looked up, she saw that his gaze had never been on the display, but on Leliana. She could feel color rising to her cheeks, but so did the smile on her lips which grew. 

“You’re a fool of a man, you know that?” She had not remembered when a sudden shirt appeared over him. No doubt he had twined snow into one, magically. Amayian had been discovering new ways to use magic with his cousin. Their striking progress at times worried her. But not know. She did missed the sight of him without one, however. In any case, she will see it later.

“You do make me foolish when you smile.”

“That was terrible.” She could not keep herself from giggling, however, before snuggling up closer to her husband, who’s chest vibrated with mirth.

Amayian kissed the top of her head, his arm around her. Warmth surrounded Leliana like armor. “You know I was never good at this.”

“You’ve gotten better over the yours.” She patted his chest. “Though, that was not your greatest performance.” And you always had your own charm about you. It was one of the many reasons why she fell in love with the man.

Amayian hummed, and than turned back to stare at his own creation. “Do you think the children will like it? I don’t want them getting sick, so it will not be good for them to go outside. And-”

Leliana rushed up, kissing the man into silence. “Amayian,” said Leliana firmly, but with fondness that she could not keep away from her voice. “They’ll love it.”

Amayian’s smile was sheepish when she pulled away, that shyness mingling with the concern of a father. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath, eyelids fluttering close for the briefest of moments. “You’re right.”

Leliana hummed as she kissed his cheek, before nuzzling her face into his chest, watching as a ribbon of orange flame twirl into a flying raven, bursting into amber leaves that were carried by the unfeeling winds. Amayian’s breath came steady, soft, content. “At least take the few moments before your handwork is destroy, ma amour.“ Leliana leaned forward and sneaked a star-shaped chocolates-coated pastry into her hand and mouth. “I will, at least.”

Amayian laughed, and Leliana swore it was the lovilest sound she could ever hear. He never laughed when he was younger, not even as Inquisitor. It touched more to see him so calm, especially around her; as she was around him. 

Maybe she did not deserve him - by the Maker, she really did not - but he was as stubborn as a Ferelden stallion, and he was sooner allow himself be corrupted by the Taint than leave her. Truly, she did not deserve him, his smiles, his laughter, his love. But if she held it in a delicate hold, than she will cherish it. It was a promise she made so long ago to the portrait of his mother, and its a promise she will continue to hold until the sun died out and the moon was swallowed into shadow and the oceans dried and turned to mud. He was her flame, and she was his.

[asoftervirge]

Of “Love” & Murder (7/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Logan Oxford: Esteemed Novelist

RATING: PG PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: mentions of Anxiety, Logan being A Nerd, Philosophy Jargon, mentions of a previous Murder, mentions of Poisoning CHAPTER SUMMARY:  Logan tell Patton how he met Virgil.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And we’re introduced to Logan! :D This chapter is shorter than the Roman introduction, but it should still bring excitement for people to want to learn how xe died. That’s a weird sentence. lol And yes, xe not he. Logan has had a number of changes with this update and I’m very pleased with them, so I hope everyone else is too. Also, this chapter is PG, so that’s good! Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

Patton squeaked and stood up straighter. For some reason, this person gave off a cold and aloof aura. Much different from the warmth and passion that radiated from Roman.

“You— You must be the second of Virgil’s husbands?”

“Spouses,” the second ghost immediately corrected. His lips curled into a slight scowl. It was pretty intimidating to say the least, especially with how tall he seemed to be. “While I do not completely mind being considered his…’husband,’ I would prefer to be called his spouse. Also my pronouns call be he/him, but I would prefer xe/xyr.”

“O-Oh!” Patton blushed, feeling bad he accidentally misgendered another person. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean—”

“Since this is our first encounter and it was merely an accident, I’ll let it slide.” xe told the confectioner while marching toward him, maintaining a good distance. “However, should we encounter each other again multiple times after this, and you still continue to misuse my pronouns, I can guarantee I will not be so friendly.”

Patton gulped. “Got it.”

Xe held out a hand for him. “Logan Oxford. Esteemed novelist and self-admitted astrophile.”

The confectioner didn’t know what half of those words meant. “U-Uhm,” he shakes Logan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. Oxford.”

“Logan, please. No need for formalities.”

He nodded. Now that he thinks about it, Patton has heard the name Logan Oxford before. His cousin Emile brought xem up a couple of times when he talked about therapy (while still keeping patient confidentiality, obviously). He mentioned how xyr essays were really good, but they seemed a little too…stuffy, for his personal tastes (like most scientists/doctors/philosophers/etc).

Now meeting xem for the first time, he can understand why Emile said that.

While Roman had on very bold, fancy colors: reds and whites and golds, Logan was a stark contrast to that. Similar to his own palette but not quite. Xe had on a dark blue dress coat with a white button-up underneath it, along with black suit pants and dark brown dress shoes. A little bit of gold was on his buttons and cuff links, but other than that, the colors xe wore were predominantly dark.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of differences between he and Logan. The novelist had dark eyes while he had baby blue. Logan had straight, gelled black hair while he had strawberry blonde curls. A medium build with a good amount of muscle as opposed to a soft curvy build with a bit of chub. A sharp face as opposed to a rounded one. Square glasses as opposed to rounded lenses.

Regardless, xe were a very clean-looking individual. Perhaps even handsome in xyr own right, much like Virgil was.

“I suppose you’re wanting to warn me about Virgil too?” he asks.

“Is that not why you’re here?” Logan responds. “Or were you just wanting to put your nose into the affairs of a relatively wealthy man?”

Patton pouted. He didn’t have to be rude about it!

“But yes,” the novelist says immediately after. “I am here to also warn you about the dangers of Mr. Virgil Nyx of 613 Rue Morgue.”

“Well take your time. I’m not here to rush you.”

“I appreciate your concerns, but my past before Mr. Nyx is easy to discuss,” Logan tells him.

The confectioner nods, listening to him attentively.

“Growing up as a child, my father was a firm believer of knowledge,” Xe began. “He always believed that it was an incomparably valuable, multipurpose tool, instrumental in identifying and solving any of the world’s problems.” Dark blue eyes casted themselves over to the books. “One of the things he used to tell me was, “If you are ever worried about getting hurt, then seek knowledge. It is our greatest weapon, and our greatest defense.” And so, with that, my ever-growing thirst began.”

Xe went on, “I scoured for any form of knowledge, be that books or even educative television, wherever I could find it, I absorbed it entirely. I read every book from both my father and Ye Ye, every book from the libraries— primary school, the public one, university— etcetera. All of it was not enough for me. I eventually received my Master’s in Philosophy and a Doctorate in Physics, wishing to expand my love of all things intellect and share it with the world.” He turns back to Patton. “Before my graduation, I had published a few theses that were eventually used at other prestigious universities; and afterward, I had written a book or two, which resulted in my rise to celebrity.”

Patton nodded. Then he asked, “Had you known about Virgil before you met him?”

“I was aware of him, yes.” the novelist’s lips thinned into a firm line. “I had heard about the…supposed suicide of Roman Scarlet, famed Broadway actor and beloved performer of the Storytime lounge. I had also heard of his brother’s desire to take Virgil to court without any proof of murderous intent, I believe he was even in contact with a lawyer despite this.”

The confectioner looked at xem in surprise. “Even when he didn’t have evidence, his brother had contact with a lawyer about wanting to see if Virgil could be charged with murder?”

“Indeed.” Logan nodded. “At first, I read it off as some silly story for revenge, not exactly understanding how that was actually the truth.”

Patton nodded. “So…Did you meet him at a book signing or…?”

Logan didn’t say anything of the longest time. When xe did, it was very vague-sounding. “When I met Virgil…well, let’s just say it was…a strange sense of irony.”

…

If he could, Virgil would have openly spat about how much he did not want to be here. When he became as wealthy as he is, he swore up and down that he would never return to this place, return to the old life he lived before he knew what it was like to have money.

And yet, here he was, walking into a familiar-looking bookstore. The name re-entering his mind like he hadn’t shoved it out oh so many years ago.

Catching his eye was the small clump of beings standing outside its old, paint-chipped door; maybe the line won’t be as long as he thought. However, he quickly (and unfortunately) realized that the clump of people outside stood at the end of a line that snaked through the entire store.

Everyone and their mother apparently wanted to meet Logan Oxford today of all days.

He should’ve expected this, and yet, he didn’t. Idiot.

Actual anxiety slowly began to seize his being as he continued to approach. Everyone seemed to have a book clutched in their hands. Most were the newest release that came just before the holidays, while some seemed to be personally chosen titles by the older audience, and then there were even books of essays that were held and gossiped about by students (or who Virgil assumed to be university students).

By the time the line actually started moving, Virgil felt sweat starting to coat his palms. He let out a noise of annoyance and shoved them into his pockets.

He was not going to let his stupid anxiety ruin this chance for him. He wasn’t!

Walking in, the little jingle of the bell above sounded like the heavy dong of a church one.

Virgil forced himself to look around. This cozy little hellhole remained the same even after almost a decade. (He even forced himself to wonder if the old owner was still here. Probably not. Maybe retired. Or dead.)

The lighting was still bad, but it gave the small interior of the store its warm glow; the carpeting was still old fashioned and had that untraceable smell to it; the chairs scattered about the store were all patchy and worn-down; the wooden tables had scratch marks and random-ass messages that people carved in with pencil; and there were still crazy knickknacks and antiques hanging from the walls or seen from the shelves.

For the widower, this place was a walk-in nightmare, like walking into someone’s grandmother’s house. But for the many customers who come and go daily, it was a little spot of comfort.

Silver-grey eyes eventually found the prize he was looking for.

Logan Oxford sat at a small table with a pen in xyr hand. The writer smiled very thinly up at an admirer as xe handed back their book from across the table.

A thousand little details flooded Virgil’s mind all at once. A full mouth that could be expressive if it wasn’t so clearly behind a reserved wall. A face that was as sharp as Roman’s but it was much more angular. Rich, dark eyes that almost seemed black: dark and mysterious, they looked like they were pulled from the night sky. Slicked back hair that would still be considered neat without all that damn hair gel.

Xe were more than attractive than the widower realized. Perfect for being his next target.

Just before it was his turn, he saw a stand full of Logan’s books, all new and old alike. Making sure no one was looking, he snagged a copy before making his way towards the novelist.

The novelist took the book without even saying anything, not even so much as a polite hello. Xe flipped it open to the first page and started to scribble on the first page with blue ink.

Virgil looked down at the book he grabbed and an idea sparked in his mind. He cleared his throat, but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Mx. Oxford?” he pretended to sound eager. “I know you’ve probably heard this before, but your philosophy essays are so fascinating.”

“You are correct, I have heard it before.” xe said. Dark eyes flashed up at him, a brow quirked and his expression monotone. “Do you have a particular question you’d like to ask me?”

He nodded. “Actually, I do…Do you believe that your field of study has been hindered by the teachings of Aristotle, or are you one of those science-y people who just nod and continuously say he’s right without any substantial proof?”

At that, Logan’s head shot up. “…beg pardon?” Xe were a little stunned by the question being asked of him.

“Do you agree with Aristotle’s teachings, yes or no?” Virgil asked again, a tiny bit amused as he made the novelist react in such a way.

Xe cleared xyr throat, trying to regain some composure. “W-Well,” he stammered. “In the case of Aristotle…the man was usually wrong. A lot. Most of his descriptions of the natural world are some variety of incorrect,” xe tell him. “Looking past his blatant sexism, his understanding of motion and forces is wrong, is astronomy is wrong, a good portion of his biology is busted, and science has in fact suffered for it. For almost 2,000 years to be specific.”

The widower hummed. (Truth be told, he hated philosophy. It was basically a bunch of old guys trying to preach certain ethics and ideologies that would eventually become outdated and criticized.) Nevertheless, he wanted to know what Logan thought about it.

“However,” Logan continued, a glimmer of something sparkling in his eyes. “It wasn’t until the 1800s when the atom was officially declared A Thing, that people began to believe his contemporary, Democritus, as opposed to himself.” Xe snort. “Not to mention, according to Cicero, his prose was apparently a flowing river of gold…when it actually was not. And it was because of him that we not only lost science but also a catastrophic amount of classical literature.”

“So in actuality, his works are basically glorified lecture-notes from his students?” Virgil smirks faintly. “I guess you know now why we should’ve listened to Gorgias instead.”

“Gorgias?” Xe ask, looking at him incredulously. “The man was, excuse my Greek, a pathological pain the ass. He didn’t care for objective truth and stated that everything was a matter of opinion, which was always bendable.”

“Exactly!” Virgil smirks more. “Everything is a construct, therefore we tried and failed. So now all we need to do is to hide under the covers until the sun goes away.” With that, the widower takes his autographed book and begins to leave the store.

“Falsehood!” A screech came from behind him, making him jump. He turns around to see the novelist get up and stride over to him, a sharp look in his eyes. The widower immediately stood straighter. Damn…that glare reminds him of a certain someone that he does not wish to remember right now. “Just because Gorgias was able to obliterate Stephanos of Thebes with straw-man arguments and casual fallacies, does not mean you can, Diogenes the Cynic.”

Virgil blinked. “…Diogenes the Cynic?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Logan says. ��A philosopher who believed that all Sophists were liars, the Philosophers were too pretentious, therefore taking immense pleasure in poking fun at their logic.”

The widower pondered thoughtfully. “…yep. That sounds like us just now.” A glint of wicked humor shone in his eyes as Logan just looked done with him. “But in all seriousness, Mx. Oxford. You have to realize that philosophy can be a bit asinine, right?”

Logan stayed silent for a moment before breathing out. “I suppose so,” xe states. “All of the big, complex ideas simply come from those who are fallible and prone to…ridiculousness. For every Plato’s Republic, there is a Diogenes urinating at a banquet table.”

“There you go,” Virgil laughs. “I hope you really didn’t get offended by what I said. I like presenting counterarguments just to see how people react.”

“No harm done. Although I must admit, while I don’t particularly enjoy socializing with others all that much,” Hard same. “I would like to talk to you more. Maybe about science-based media— or whatever it is you’re a fan of?”

Virgil nodded, smirking internally. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I would like to challenge your claims on what you call cognitive distortions. As someone who has generalized anxiety, I wanna know what your psychology thinks about my over-reactionary mind.”

Logan hummed in interest. “Oh? I look forward to it then, Mr…?”

“Nyx. Virgil Nyx.”

“Mr. Nyx.” Named after the Roman Goddess of the Night, the novelist mused. Xe liked it. Xe scribbled something onto the back of a bookmark, handing it to Virgil. “Again, thank you very much for coming and I hope to communicate with you again soon.”

“See ya.”

With a finger salute, Virgil left the bookstore with a sigh of relief. He was quite glad that his anxiety didn’t make him look the a fool and that he was out of that atrocious place. He opened the book and saw the fancy penmanship of the novelist.

On the bookmark, was his phone number.

He smirked. Maybe he did succeed after all…

…

Patton listed as Logan finished telling him about xyr first meeting with Virgil. He had to admit, it was rather nice to not listen to any…graphic details about things he didn’t want to know, even if Roman told him in a vague manner.

“So how did you stay close with Virgil?” he asked, remembering the questions he presented Roman. “You gave him your number; did you call each other on the phone? Or did you both kept meeting at the bookstore.”

Logan shook xyrs head. “No. However, I would invite him out for some coffee if I was in the area. And every time we did so, we would always have little discussions that would turn into…not-so-little discussions after a period of time…”

Patton raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

The novelist scowled. “We did not argue, if that is what you’re thinking! We…debated, that’s much more civil.” The confectioner giggled but allowed him to continue. “And, while I’m not a traditionally…emotional person…it was quite nice to have someone debate on certain subjects with me, even if they tended to hiss at me from time to time.”

Despite this slowly becoming a sad tale, Patton giggled again. He won’t lie, Virgil did act like a cat every once in a while. It was actually kinda cute (you know…despite the fact he murdered three people…).

“I would also take him to any conferences or panels that I would be invited to attend or speak at,” xe told him. “He would act as my plus one, if you will. I must admit, even if I could manage them on my own, it was…almost beneficial for me to have him around during those events.” Xe chuckled. “I say this despite the fact that he detested such things, as they tended to prompt his anxiety and cause him to rudely hiss whenever someone— and I quote— “reached his limits with stupid questions.” Not only that, he was not primarily invested in the actual subjects of said discussions and was more interested in the catering they served.”

That caused Patton to actually laugh. That also seems like something that Virgil would do, though he doesn’t blame him at all. In fact, if he were in his shoes, he would be a bit more curious in the food too.

Logan couldn’t help xyr lips from twitching upwards. “I shall confess, there were times where I myself have agreed with his sentiments.”

Unfortunately, the smiles and laughter had to end at some point.

“But what happened afterward?” Patton eventually asked. “What caused everything to go downhill?”

The little twitch of a smile instantly when back to a frown. The confectioner sees xem turn to grab a book that was suddenly on the table (when did that get there anyhow?). It was a very beautiful looking book: dark indigo in color with a title that he couldn’t quite make out, but he could see Logan’s name at the very top. Xe opened the book, flipping it to the very last pages before handing it to Patton.

‘ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS’ Baby blue eyes skimmed through the short paragraphs of text. Logan gave simple but kind words as xe thanked the people who helped xem achieve such a feat, such as his parents and former professors.

Then he followed to where the novelist had pointed a finger at.

“Lastly, I would like to give acknowledgments to my husband, Virgil Nyx.

While we have not known each other long, and have newly become married, but having your support throughout this journey was momentous for someone like me to complete this project. Your harsh and honest (almost too honest) criticisms of my work were what kept me going to make and achieve better than my means. And while I am not an emotional person, nor do I express my emotions often, I quiet enjoyed having your company while I wrote and rewrote my rough and final drafts… And I must thank you for bring me my favorite green teas and jellied biscuits whenever I hadn’t eaten or drank anything for hours on end.

This is the most I have genuinely praised someone so highly (and also a first), but it cannot be helped. I truly hope you see the appreciation and respect I fester for you.”

Patton couldn’t help but tear up. To Logan, they may appear simple, but they were also so beautiful.

“As you’ve read, by the time I had written my last book, Virgil had become my spouse.” Logan says. “We were married in a simple ceremony. Something that was vastly different from Roman’s grandiose nuptials.”

Patton giggled. It was amusing with how Logan was poking fun at Roman from beyond the grave. (In an almost magical way, he could almost hear an indignant noise in his ear).

“But,” Logan’s face grew sad, almost angry. “That did not last long, unfortunately. I had quickly fallen for Virgil’s rouses like the one before me. And, like him, I was met with an unfortunate end.” A deep, almost tired sigh. “To think, someone like him could have been two steps ahead of me in a metaphorical game of chess…I must say, it was truly a checkmate on his end.”

“Him murdering you, you mean?” Patton asked, fearing the answer Logan will give him. Silence. A very familiar silence.

Then, Logan nodded. “Yes. Although, poisoning is the correct terminology this time around.”

[aspidenchantress]

 When Witches Let Themselves Burn 

Summary : Cassian Kaialani had a peculiar way of expressing his desire for a meaningful life, and in return, what seemed to be the universally accepted definition of “a meaningful life” was peculiar to him. When Lord Rhysand Sayyadi makes him an offer he can not refuse, he finds himself in the position of playing a very dangerous game of deceit against an opponent that, he will later find out, is above any that he had faced before. With war knocking on Prythian’s door, the masks are harder to take off, and every action can be the cause of a following disaster. Who is Nesta Archeron? And is her cause worth losing not only an enormous amount of money, but also the promise of a tomorrow?

  CHAPTER 1   

  Cassian Kaialani had a peculiar way of expressing his desire for a meaningful life, and in return, what seemed to be the universally accepted definition of “ a meaningful life” was peculiar to him.

  Twisting one of the rings on his left hand, he leaned against the remains of a burn-out building that faced the Sidra River. Night had fallen fast upon the land. No more than a hour ago the sky was painted with hues of red, embodying the kind of pictures that the rich folks would have on their walls. 

  Yet, despite the harsh bite of the wind that he could feel through his tattered cloak and the unforgiving bitterness of the autumn air, Velaris appeared to be in a constant state of movement. He expected that by having to wait in what had been described to him as the “poor district” of the North Capital, he wouldn’t have to put much effort into remaining unnoticed. However, as a sickly woman carrying two hyperactive children passed through the muddy alleyway, he once again had to bow his head and hide his features with his greasy long locks and the stolen feathered bycocket on his head. Muttering and swaying his body in a drunken manner for good measure, he looked like nothing more than a piss-poor bastard.

   Which, he supposed he was, but that wasn’t the point. After all, even some of the wealthiest men in his natal land could pass as stone broke in the City of Starlight.

  The city was a vast, intricate, labyrinth of nosey streets and alleys, the overall ambiance of it being both alien and welcoming to his senses. Somewhere, up high, the stars already twinkled, and the moon shone, and Cassian watched as his breath formed tiny clouds in the crisp air, asking himself for what seemed to be the hundredth time what the hell he was doing. 

  Before he got to chance to start drowning in his incertitude and hopelessness, the clamorous approach of a carriage startled him out of his contemplation. Cassian watched as, in the distance, the people wandering the streets moved to make space for the nobility, gawking at the shiny embroidered clothing covering the horses, and at silver details on the midnight-blue carriage itself.

  A jewel in the dirt.

  Cassian clenched his fists, nails digging into his palm, trying to calm his features into playful boredom. Royalty never ceased to make him want to tear the world apart with his bare bastard hands. However, considering the business he had chosen to take part in, spitting in these people’s faces would not benefit him, nor his cause. 

  The carriage came to a stop in front of him, the old man on the high seat of it keeping a white-knuckled grip on the reins. His grey horseshoe mustache was doing little to hide the way his lips were set in a hard line. Cassian’s interest peaked at the tension in the air. Straightening his spine, he gave the driver a crooked grin, and watched as his top hat almost fell off due to the sharp movement of his head as he looked away from him. Shrugging to himself he focused his attention of the carriage door instead.

  A few seconds passed, in which he could hear muffled voices coming from inside, and then the door  was opened with the grace only one man in Prythian could muster.

  Rhysand Sayyadi lazily stepped out, his high leather boots elegantly avoiding a puddle. Cassian supposed that even the dirt took pity into touching shoes that could feed some unfortunate soul for over a month. 

  He met the challenge in Rhysand’s eyes with one of his own, quirking one eyebrow at the look of feline amusement that overtook his features. Pulling up the collar of his purple coat, Rhysand merely took a step aside, gesturing for Cassian to get inside. After taking a few looks left and right, he did.

  He involuntarily cringed at the velvet-wrapped inside of the coach, though no sooner had the expression settled on his face, when it suddenly shifted into something else. His lips parted slightly at the sight of the woman in front of him. Her hair was a thousand shades of gold that made a completely new mosaic as she flipped it behind her shoulder. Her face was smooth, devoid of any marks of childhood illnesses, creating quite an interesting contrast with the faint scars on her neck and the fire in her brown eyes. Her red mouth shifted into a devious smirk.

  “Now I must admit Rhysand”, she drawled, voice sweet as honey, eyes never leaving Cassian’s , ”that this far from what I expected a high-north Illyrian bandit to look like.” She raised a hand covered in red leather gloves to her chin, tapping lightly.

   Beside him, Rhysand chuckled quietly, leaning towards the low-set table between the seats, and taking an already lit cigar. Turning his head to face the half open window, he inhaled a smoke, eyes firmly set on the night sky.

  “You’ll soon find out, dear cousin, that Cassian here is one of the best men that could help us deal with the mess you so kindly dragged us into.”

  The colour drained from Morrigan’s face, her playful demeanor changing into a grim look. Cassian’s eyes darted between them, maybe a little too eager to see where this conversation was going. There seemed to be a bitter dispute between the two cousins, and hell knew how much of an addict he was for spicy gossip. Not to say royal gossip -it paid well in the taverns, especially in those from the rather underdeveloped cities.   

  An uncomfortable silence followed, Rhysand continuing to look out the window, and Morrigan having spaced out, biting at her lip. 

  In all truth, they looked nothing alike. There was a certain darkness that surrounded Rhysand, which was amplified by his features: short black hair and skin a few shades lighter than his own. Were it not for his violet eyes, Cassian would have immeadetly assumed he was Illyrian too. Morrigan, on the other hand, was sunshine made flesh. The only thing that they appeared to have in common was the taste for the extravagance, Rhysand with his silver embroidered tunic and coat, and Morrigan with her overall red costume, accompanied by a cartwheel hat on top of her head. 

  “Yeah, well,” Cassian began after realising no one was going to fill the silence anytime soon, “ how about you tell me what you want me to do, give me the money, and then part ways with me?”

  The attention suddenly shifted on him, both of them looking at him with raised eyebrows.

  Cassian shrugged. “I have better things to do.”

  Morrigan took a look at his attire and snorted. “I bet.”

  He was about to bite back, when Rhysand interfered.

  “Are you aware of Prythian’s current political situation, Cassian?”

  “No, and I don’t care.” he answered outright. “I am a homeless bastard. Whether you snobs get along or not doesn’t affect my state of being. I get treated like horseshit anyways.”

  Morrigan pursed her lips but made no move to contradict him.

  “Fair point.” Rhysand said. ”Too bad it is a lie.”

  Cassian slowly turned his head towards him and grinned. 

  It was a lie. While his previous statement might have been true, Cassian made it a priority to gather as much information as possible about anything that moved in Prythian and beyond. He was a strategist, it was only logical that he had an obsession of knowing his territory.

  “Then this is about the Vanserras’ downfall.”

   Five months before, a strange movement found its roots all over Prythian. Many people of high social importance had either disappeared or been killed, the only clue left behind being a strange symbol formed out of intricate lines, usually drawn with the victim’s blood. The entire territory entered a state of constant terror, and after the third identical murder, the question changing from Who did this? to When will they strike next? .

  If the information he had received was correct, than there already had been numerous meetings between the seven most important political figures of Prythian regarding this subject. Each one of them making the ties between the seven Territories to be more tense than they had previously been.

  However, it wasn’t until two months ago that everything had truly gone to hell. The murders had continued, but one of them stood out specifically.

  Beron Vanserra.

  Leader of the Autumn Court, had been found dead in his own room, the feared symbol that put Prythian in imbalance adorning the wall above his bed. Not only had the entire nation entered in a crisis, but Lavinia, the Lady herself, had left the territory not even a week after the disastrous event. She found shelter in the Day Court.

  The eldest son, Eris, took the throne, but due to lack of experience, and a stick stuck up his ass, he found himself not being able to calm the raging people. 

   Soon enough, a riot started.

   The economy crumbled to the ground, and the entire Court became a complete war zone. Cassian was lucky to be far up North when everything caught fire.

  Morrigan smacked her lips. “Close. We already have a man for that.”

  “Oh?” He turned towards Rhysand. “But I thought I was . . . what was it? The best man that could take care of your mess?”

  “One of the best. “ was his answer. “ And besides, Saenna Julia is no place for a . . . gentleman such as yourself, Cassian, dear. They would behead you the moment you walked through the gates.” He ended by giving him a side-long glance, daring him to contradict him. Cassian only inclined his head. It’s true. Capitals are no place for him period.

   Rhysand returned the cigar to the table. “That’s why I sent Azriel there.” 

   Cassian choked on air, which caused Morrigan to make an indignant noise followed by a soft curse.

  “Azriel? As in Azriel Takuma? That son of a bitch is working for you?” he growled. He felt his blood freeze in his veins at the thought of that bastard. 

  “Indeed”, Rhysand purred. “But past times are long since buried underneath the ash. Isn’t that what you highwaymen like to live by?”

  He gritted his teeth, scratching his overgrown beard. He and Azriel did not exactly part ways in the most friendly way. Two years before, after an entire summer of working together, managing to rob countless people, and partying like the world was ending, the bastard betrayed him.

After one particular night of heavy drinking, Cassian woke up in the barn they had sneaked in, only to find himself alone. And not only in regard of human companionship, but also robbed of half his belongings. The crime-centered part of his brain made the judgement that at least it wasn’t all of his goods. It did nothing to calm the wave of rage that overtook him, though. Especially after seeing the note that Azriel had left. “I had to do it to you before you did it to me. More prosperity in the future, old man.” 

  And yes, while he was planning on betraying the kid, well . . .  he wouldn’t have done it that soon. He had fun. But all of that was forgotten as he started to throw around everything he could put his hand on in that barn. Throwing pieces of wood, some empty bottles from the night before, and perhaps he would have ended up demolishing the entire place, were it not for the fact that he had just gotten his face off of Wanted posters, and wanted it to remain that way for at least a little longer.

  Two weeks after, his face was already all over Prythian.

  “I like Azriel way better.”, Morrigan muttered, waking him up from his reverie.

  Cassian frowned. “You just met me.”

  She gave him a saccharine smile. “He shaves.”

  Cassian responded in kind. “You’d be surprised by the wonders of a bearded man”, he smirked, adding a wink for good measure.

  “Nothing above basic hygiene.”

  “I’m sorry, princess,”, he snorted, “next time I’ll make sure to stop by that fancy little salon in the middle of the mountains.”

  Rhysand clicked his tongue. “ Enough.”

  “How did you even get him to agree to working with you?” Cassian snapped, unable to help himself.

  “I have a fat wallet.”

  “Which I assume he had tried to steal and that’s how the two of you met.”

   Rhysand chuckled.

  “Indeed. Oddly enough, I frequently find myself in the position of getting robbed by stray dogs that would later end up serving to my purposes. Azriel is a shadow, knows how to blend in.” And how to blend out, Cassian thought. “His skills are going to help me a great deal, and so are yours.”

  “If I’m not going to Saenna Julia, then where?” 

  It was Morrigan who responded, a poisonous smile adorning her face. “ The Archeron Estate.”

  Well, that I did not expect, thought Cassian.

  He looked at Rhysand, to see if she was jocking, but found no trace of amusement in his eyes.

  The Archeron Estate was situated in the Neutral Zone, in the south of Prythian, practically on the other end of the continent, sharing border with the Spring Court. It was a wealthy family indeed, one known especially for the trades they did all over Prythian, and beyond. Gaius Archeron was known as The Prince of Merchants, however the man had died the previous spring due to an ugly infection on his leg. Thus, leaving the Estate, as well as the business, in the hands of his three daughters. 

   “And what reason may you have for wanting me near the Archerons?” Cassian asked intently.

  “How about you take a wild guess?” Rhysand challenged. “Take all the information you have gathered from greasy taverns and muddy alleys and tell me why I should have a pair of eyes watching them.”

  Cassian considered.

  “For starters, there has been a total of zero murders in the Neutral Zone.”

  Rhysand nodded.

  “Their old mad died and yet there seems to be little to no change in their trade pattern. If anything, it seems to have flourished.”

  “Indeed”, Rhysand drawled. “Not only had their trades remained just as good as before Gaius’ death and the Red Murders, but they have added a new partner to their list, too.”

  “Oh?”

  He took a deep breath. “The Archerons are trading with Hybern.”

  Well, if this night wasn’t getting more and more interesting.

  “Well, that’s . . .” Cassian started. “Do you thing Hybern is behind the murders?”

  “Could be.” responded Morrigan, taking off her gloves and revealing that her left hand had the little finger missing. “But we know that among basic goods and services, there had been some rather intriguing chemicals sent back and forth between them. Makes you wonder what use they could be to some twenty-something years old girls.”

  Those little minxes.

  “So I am to be a spy, then, ay?” 

  “Yes”, Rhysand answered. “I need you to be my eyes, and my ears. In one week’s time you will be sent to their Estate, where you will work under the pretense of being a man looking for some money, and willing to be a servant for three pretentious little girls. Half of their domestics workers had left due to either the desire of being with their family during such unfortunate times, or the bitterness and utter coldness of the eldest sister. Therefore, you are going to make yourself as incospicuous as possible, while also gathering as much information as possible, which you will then offer to me. You will get more details about your mission in the week that is to come.”

  “That if I accept.”

  Rhysand blinked. “What?”

  “That if I accept to work with you.” Cassian repeated, a shit-eating grin starting to grow on his face.

  “What’s there not to accept?”

  “Well I don’t know, lordling.” Cassian said studying his dirty nails. “How much are you going to offer?”

  Before Rhysand even got the chance to open his mouth, Morrigan ventured : “One hundred thousand.”

  It was Cassian’s turn to blink. 

  “One hundred thousand zakes?”

  Morrigan bit her lip and said through gritted teeth “Yes.”

  Cassian put his hands behind his head and smiled lazily, despite Morrigan’s warning glare.

  “Two hundred.”

  “Cassian . . .”

 “Two fifty.”

  “Stop it, you bastard,” she hissed.

  “I could do this all day long, princess,” he winked.

  “You’ll get three hundred.” Rhysand interrupted, pining Morrigan with a glare that could freeze hell itself. Cassian made a mental note to look into whatever the two cousins had going on between them.

  “Fine by me”, he answered. “One more question, though.”

  Rhysand raised an eyebrow.

  “Where are we heading right now?’

  The rich folks turned their head towards the window, almost melancholically. 

  “The House of Wind”, said Morrigan. And then giving him an once over. “We’ll first have to make some radical changes regarding your appearance.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because there is no way in hell Nesta Archeron is going to let a vagrant step over her threshold.”

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