#look at the life in his eyes. the mesmerized expression. he has seen this hundreds of times and it is still beautiful to him every time

[lotus-pear]

dazai breathlessly watching his partner in an inhuman, corrupted state and still finding him beautiful has to be another kind of love

[cryopathiic-a]

CONTINUATION of this for @astra-stellaris

The parking lot is quiet. It's a moonless night, ideal for stake out. So they took their chance to track down a lead and the guy apparently goes home early and locks the door. That leaves the two of them in silence, in the car, with Dōma putting out one cigarette after the other — a habit he's picked up shortly after their recent fallout. But now he has finally stopped overseasoning her dinner.

Astra's gloved fingers were still hovering over the radio's buttons when the silence broke.

❝ You had guessed it right. I was more of a prophet growing up. ❞ A drag. It's some heavy brand that's almost a one way ticket to rotting lungs. He flicks his nail over the stem to dust it in the car tray. ❝ I would give readings and omens and stuff like that. ❞ His hand motions in a circle. She would know that there is more, from the somber tone. Even if he was looking ahead, at that guy's living room lights. He'd been in that room for so long doing god knows what. He doesn't care if Astra would rather keep doing her job in silence.

❝ Sometimes it was scripted. Most of the time it wasn't. Not a lot of people know about it but I know it wasn't something normal. I saw other kids that came to me with their parents, and that's how I knew. But I just didn't care after a while. I mean, these people were telling a crying child their life stories and crimes and troubles. I doubt I was the one in need of help back there. ❞ The contemptuous tone would not be lost on her. But he still holds on to his defenses. She should allow him that, at least. Much as he is finally offering that olive branch and giving her something real; not about that time though. He might not be ready to talk about it or view the topic as important; and from their previous talks she would be able to figure out which one of these things was happening.

❝ And then he came along. ❞ Pause. The lighter flicks. He sinks back into his seat and his gaze fixes ahead. His eyes glimmer. ❝ I will never forget that night. I had never seen a man carry himself like that before, just, walking in the room and all the monks stepped aside without him saying anything. And then he spoke to me, only. His voice was like silk. And his face was so beautiful. He had this... ❞ He motions around his own shoulders, the cigarette wedged between two fingers.

❝ Long dark mane and he was so pale like an Inari fox and his eyes had this deep red color, like plums. I was so mesmerized by how beautiful he was that I did not even hear what he was saying. You have to understand, I was raised with the expectation I would at some point connect with something celestial. An actual God. And, you know, obviously I had lost my faith over the years of listening to people's boring sob-stories but then this man... he really looked the part. And then he touched me. ❞ He licks his bottom lip then, and bites it. It's oddly sensual, but not at all sexual. It's clear that he's reminiscing the sensation.

❝ The pain... no— ❞ A finger stops her before she can interrupt him - as she often likes to undermine anything related to Kibutsuji, because she hates him so much. Don't most humans? But Dōma looks pretty set on narrating the entire encounter to her. His hand finds his own throat and runs down its length to rest over his clavicle. ❝ The pain. It was like... like every fiber in my body had been sleeping before that, and I had not known it. And I knew it then, in that moment, they all jolted awake and I— I had all the answers. ❞ He smiles. His eyes are glassy. It's a very bittersweet smile. ❝ Every explanation I needed, it was right there before me.❞

He's speaking of mind control. But he talks about it as if it was an enlightening experience. And what he is expressing may look like ecstasy but it sounds like relief. Then, he sobers up.

❝ And so I became a priest in his name. And for one hundred years I preached to others about this man and I put him at the centerfront of my new religion. I don't regret any of that. All of it, I would have done it again. I mean, I don't know about the others but I was awfully bored with my life before that and that's why I took the deal. But there's just this one thing that bothers me sometimes, when I think about it. ❞ He lights up another cigarette. The tray is already full.

❝ I know; I mean, I realized it quickly, that Muzan-sama is not God. That, I could deal with. He might not be anything supernatural because clearly he is explaining himself with science and all that. But he was still God in my eyes, because of his impossible power. And feats. So, I didn't care that he wasn't a God I had seen in some books but — then... he was defeated. By a child and some swordsmen. A human child. Do you have any idea how embarassing that is for a demon to hear? ❞ He seems genuinely distressed about that. ❝ I founded an entire faith around this guy. And then he goes and loses in such a miserable and pathetic way and—- and where does that leave me, you know? I look like an idiot now. ❞ He huffs. His leg shakes as he blows some smoke and turns to look outside the window with a petulant expression.

[dreamkidddream]

The Obey Me boys with an MC that has chubby cheeks 🥺

They’re so soft and squishy and they don’t mind it when people squish, kiss, or rub their face. You know how you can see the outline of someone’s face when they aren’t looking at you? MC just has this large lump on their’s cuz of how round their cheeks are, it’s adorable. If they pout, that’s a weapon of mass destruction and cuteness.

These are short so hope that’s okay and reader is gender neutral! And these were adorable 😫

The Brothers Reacting to MC with Chubby Cheeks

Lucifer

Okay even he can admit how cute you are

But don’t think about using this against him because it won’t work. His brothers may be weak willed enough to fall to you, but not him. What he says is final, no questions asked, no ifs ands or buts

...

Okay he might be able to make an exception this time, but don’t push your luck

Loves to tease you when it’s just you two. LOVES to touch them without his gloves on, he looks forward to it everyday

Come to his room when he’s working or stressed and sit on his lap, and watch him crumble internally. His hands will be on your cheeks before you know it and paperwork will be forgotten (he started to realize that when you do come in, it’s your way of saying that he needs a break, and he stopped trying to fight you after you pouted right in his face. Hasn’t even pretended to ignore you ever since, already putting his pen down when you open the door)

Just making you smile works for him. Just seeing your non-threatening pout or getting the chance to caress your cheeks is more than enough for him

Mammon

MC, you have to stop looking at him like that, he can’t focus when you do and he has a reputation to keep up!

He can’t even do his tsundere act because as soon as you start to jut your lip out he blushes like crazy and caves in, acting annoyed but he really really likes it

“Fine MC, just stop lookin’ at me like that will ya?!”

He’s lying MC don’t stop because he’s a sucker for it lmao

Will unknowingly squish your cheeks together when A. when he gets super excited about a new way you guys can earn some Grimm, or B. when you save him from his brothers wrath after he messes up

He still blushes like crazy and acts like it was an accident but somehow still finds a way to do it every day, and you pretend that you don’t see the longing look in his eyes when he moves his hands

Please move his hands back to your cheeks, and he’ll be bragging about it for the next hundred years about how you can’t resist the Great Mammon

Pokes at your lumps to get your attention, and his heart races at the giggles you let out

Just let him hold your face after a rough day or when he’s being vulnerable and it makes him feel so much better

You make him feel so much better

Leviathan

HE DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE IT

Are your cheeks really like this?? Like this is real??? It’s not special effects???

The first time you pouted in front of him he froze and just...shut down. You went to put your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, and then he just had a very loud and energetic moment of fanboying over your cheeks

You’re very scared that he’ll either have a heart attack or spontaneously combust (honestly both)

Let him poke them after you said it’s okay for the 1000th time and he’s in heaven (how ironic). It’s just like in anime, but it’s real life and it’s you

Reenact anime scenes or do anime poses with your cheeks puffed out (even better if you’re in cosplay), and you’ll never be leaving his room

Pout while you’re losing the game and he might go easier on you the next round (or he might go harder just to see you pout lmao)

Your cheeks ARE a weapon of mass destruction to him, and it’s not fair when you use it on him! Do you know how fast his heart is already beating because of you, and now you do THIS?!

You don’t even know the power that you hold over him, do you? Your cuteness is too powerful for him to handle he’s not strong enough!!!

But for a normie you are kinda cute though and can be touched, unlike the 2D characters he’s used to...

You actually have your own fan club because of your cheeks that he may or may not have secretly started himself

Satan

Loves to tease you, and doesn’t care if it’s in front of people (ie. his brothers)

The CEO of squishing your cheeks. He LIVES for cupping your cheeks, the little squeaks that you make when he catches you off guard just makes his heart jump

He’s so used to doing this to cats that it’s second nature for him

When he starts to get irritated or when he gets sucked into reading and ignores everything else, plop your face against his and pout/puff your cheeks out and he won’t be able to resist for long

If you rub your cheeks against his he is PUTTY in your hands

Placing chaste kisses on them after a long study session >>>>>>

You’re just too delicate for your own good MC, and if you don’t stop pouting he might lose control. He’s so deep in love with you, it’s hard to maintain his composure sometimes, and your cheeks are not helping his situation

But trust me he’s not complaining

Maybe he should invite for another one on one study session...

Asmodeus

MC you are just so adorable! You and your cheeks are just the cutest thing he has ever seen

Next to him of course

You guys take selfies everyday and it’s almost always cheek to cheek. He can’t help it, you’re too cute and his adoring fans just have to see it. You two are a power couple of cuteness ESPECIALLY when you pout

Your fan club and his fan club ships you guys because of how cute your pictures look together. Asmo’s fan club has set aside their differences with yours because let’s face it: you guys are the power couple

Kisses your cheeks all day, every day. Has no shame about it either. In public or behind closed doors, those cheeks are just begging for him!

Rub, squeeze, kiss, he does it all

GRASPING YOUR CHEEKS TO RUB YOUR NOSES TOGETHER >>>>>>

But in all seriousness, he loves giving you affection. Giving affection to someone who is not only one of the most captivating beings he’s ever met, but someone that he is genuinely in love with makes him feel happiness that he’s never felt before

And he doesn’t want it to end anytime soon

Beelzebub

Is the main one mesmerized by your cheeks (besides from Levi)

Do you have food stuffed in them? Like how squirrels do?

That’s honestly a good idea and wishes that he can do it but he’ll just end up eating it :(

Kept poking and stretching your cheeks out gently to see, didn’t believe you because you were giggling so much

Was surprised (and a little disappointed) when you didn’t have food in them, but your adorableness made up for it (and he likes to hear your laugh)

If he’s looking for you in the school’s hallways, he just has to look for your cheeks poking out and he’s already found you lmao

You actually got nervous one time when he approached you, expression deadly serious, and just stared at you. You began to question him (was that custard you ate his? If so, you need to start running ASAP) when he just placed his hands on them and started smiling

“Your cheeks are really soft MC, it reminds me of Madame Screams mini cupcakes...but they’re even softer.”

No seriously he is amazed by this revelation

He always asks if it’s okay before he touches them, now becomes his favorite part of his day

Likes to share/feed his food to see if they get bigger, (but also just wants to eat with you)

He isn’t into clubs but he’s a proud member of Levi’s secret fan club

Belphegor

He definitely tries to fall asleep on them, found out it was uncomfortable for you and begrudgingly agreed to just have some way of touching them when you guys nap

Actually just found a new way to cuddle: you’re laying on top and he gets to wrap his arms and tail around you. Everyone’s happy!

You and your cheeks are required for his daily naps, and if you want him to get his well-needed rest (and his cuddles that he whines about all day) then you have to nap with him. He doesn’t make the rules MC, he only follows them

Please go nap with him he always feel so relaxed when you’re around and instead of dreaming you by his side you’ll really be there, and he really misses you

Pokes and stretches your cheeks out when he wants to annoy/tease you, but really just wants to tease you

He tries to fight back a blush when you do that sweet laugh that he loves to hear when he does mess with you, fails miserably at it (but he doesn’t stop messing with them and he can’t hide his smile

Has compared them to pillows, and testify that your cheeks >>> regular pillows

If you do try to pout and ignore him, he just squishes and pokes at your lump and awaits for your giggles

He’s another one obsessed with your cheeks (really they all are lmao) but you’ll never hear him say it out loud

Has joined the fan club with Beel

[sondepoch]

Silence Starts to Overflow (Venti x Reader)

Barbatos’s voice, whispering gently in the wind, stirs you from the slumber you were about to give into. How cruel, that you would allow yourself to pass without saying farewell to him.

MASTERLIST

Death isn’t quite the right word for it.

It would be more fitting to say that you’re passing—because passing is something that precedes catching, catching is something that precedes continuing, and continuing is something that precedes life.

Though to say that this state you’re in can precede life is a lie at best.

Where are you?

Barbatos’s voice, whispering gently in the wind, stirs you from the slumber you were about to give into.

How cruel, that you would allow yourself to pass without saying farewell to him.

The final remnants of your strength—the strength you’d been saving for a final, devastating blow against Baal, the strength you never got to use because Rex Lapis ambushed you first with an cataclysmic meteor—fly out from your fingertips in a single beacon of light that pierces the clouds as it broadcasts your position to the world.

Instantly, you feel the wind turn.

A smile crosses your lips at that. Channeling your Lumino into the sky so freely is a risky move, especially given that every archon in the area now knows where you are. You can already sense the familiar pulse of Geo and Electro growing closer as Rex Lapis and Baal doubtlessly venture back to you to finish the job, but, of course, Barbatos is faster.

Geo is slow, after all.

Electro is marginally faster, given the right medium.

Nothing, however, can trump the speed of Anemo.

Nothing but Lumino, though you suppose that will cease to exist with your passing.

“You’re a fool,” Barbatos whispers in that breathy, exhilarated voice of his. “Someone could have seen,” he says. “You’re lucky I was so close.”

Ah. It appears that he hasn’t seen your wounds yet.

Well, that’s not so bad. 

You allow yourself to relax as Barbatos gathers you in his arms at the speed of wind, holding you close against his chest as he rides a breeze of his own making into the sky. 

“There are less than a hundred gods left, now. You and I can keep a low profile these next few days and wait for the numbers to dwindle, and then we can start working together to…”

You say nothing as Barbatos continues.

To die like this, in the arms of your lover, the sound of his laughter in his ear and the element of his soul surrounding you...would be a peaceful death.

A nice death.

As Barbatos eagerly tells you about his fight against Beleth, you press your head deeper into his chest. You take a deep breath of his scent, the scent of cecilias and happiness and youth and freedom, and you begin to let yourself drift away, the strength of Lumino finally fading from your gnosis and from this world, and…

How cruel.

You can’t bring yourself to part from your lover just yet.

Not without a proper goodbye, at least.

“Barbatos,” you whisper, just strong enough to lift your head off his chest. “Barbatos, please.”

It’s at this moment that Barbatos looks, properly looks, down at you, and you can see the adrenaline of his victory sap from his expression, beautiful blue eyes turning from overjoyed to mortified in a single second.

“No,” he mutters when he sees how the light has already begun to fade from your eyes, the natural waves of Lumino that used to radiate off you so naturally now turned dim with your impending death. “No. No, this can’t—no, no. No. Please. No. No.”

Within a second, he has your back lain against a cloud, as if the stoppage of movement can do anything with your elemental energy so far dwindled. 

“Who—who did this—”

You smile gently. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Baal isn’t an especially dangerous woman: you know Barbatos can defeat her; but if she’s managed to obtain an alliance with Rex Lapis, God of War, then the last thing you want is for your lover to attempt to avenge you and get himself killed just like you. Not when Barbatos is already so strong. Not when he already has a chance at becoming one of the Final Seven.

“T-This isn’t a time for—”

“Shh,” you whisper, reaching for his hands. The touch calms him. You channel what little power you have left into his hands, praying that he can feel it. Feel you.

“Tell me,” Barbatos says, tears beginning to build in those mesmerizing eyes. It’s hardly the time to be thinking about it, but this form that he’s chosen is truly beautiful: skin like porcelain, perfect and fine and untouchable, stunning dark blue hair, thick and nearly-black at every inch, and eyes that hold your entire world in them, blue and green and Barbatos. “I—please, they might still be around here. I can defeat them and give you their gnosis, and—”

You force yourself past your limits to lift an arm up to Barbatos’s chin. It takes all your effort to press a single finger against his lips, a wordless seal on the conversation. 

“You’re dying,” he whispers, the tears now spilling forth. “You’re—you’re—”

You press your finger against his lips again, silently asking him to speak not of your death, and the god breaks down next to you, sobbing loudly as he pulls you closer, now holding you in his arms instead of allowing you to remain flat on the ground.

It’s quite uncomfortable, actually.

Yet, you prefer the warmth of your lover’s arms to soft chill of the clouds, prefer the sensation of his salty tears spilling onto your hair, prefer the way you can savor the feeling of him a little bit longer this way.

“S-Sitri should be near here. I-if you can last just a little longer, he’ll be able to heal you and—”

Your heart falls. This must be karma.

“I killed Sitri this morning.”

The devastation in Barbatos’s eyes when you say that is more painful than the spreading darkness in your gut.

“Ph-Phenex might—”

“Sitri killed Phenex. He told me.”

The sound that spills past Barbatos’s lips at that is something between a wail and a whimper, a sob and a scream. It’s nothing like the beautiful music you’re used to hearing from his lips, and it hurts you to know that you’re the cause of this awful noise, this awful pain that will hurt him so much more than it can hurt you.

Though that’s the nature of this war, isn’t it? The very notion of thousands of gods, thousands of elements, all fighting against one another in an attempt to sit on one of the final seven seats in Celestia is something that can only occur with death, with sacrifice.

You and Barbatos were naive for ever thinking that both of you would be able to make it.

“Barbatos,” you say, cupping his cheek gently, admiring the silky softness of his skin because you know this is the last time you’ll be able to do so. “I want you to live.”

“Stop it,” Barbatos says. “Stop—stop talking like you’re going to—to—”

“To die,” you finish for him, and your hand falls from Barbatos’s cheek. You don’t have the strength to hold it up anymore. “But I don’t want you to die.”

“N-no, please, I—” Barbatos sobs, an ugly sound. “I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“I want you to live,” you say, stubborn. “Live for me.”

“I don’t want to,” Barbatos whispers. “Not without you. S-so if you want me to live, please just try to—”

“I can’t.” Your smile is sad as you stare at him. “I can’t, Barbatos, but you can.”

“I don’t—”

“Take my gnosis.”

Your lover physically recoils at that, shock painted on his beautiful features before denial takes over.

“No,” he says, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, no. No. I won’t. I—you’ll only die faster without your—”

“Barbatos,” you say, wishing you had the strength to reach out and grab his hand. “Barbatos, for all purposes, I'm already dead.”

“No!” he shouts, and when he sees how you wince at that, he lowers the volume of his voice. “No, you’re—you’re not dead. You’re alive, you’re here, and you don’t have to—”

“I can’t control it if I die.” You turn your gaze from Barbatos to the sky, vaguely wondering what heavens are above the heavens. “But you can make sure you don't. Take my gnosis.”

“I don’t want it,” Barbatos whispers, and his eyes shimmer with tears he’s trying to hold back. 

“Take it,” you say. “Take it and live. And remember me. And build a world where no one else needs to die like this.”

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Barbatos whispers, but his hand is on your heart, now. “I just want you. Please. Please don’t—”

“Take it.”

The power of Lumino comes to a peak as you allow the source of it to expose itself, raw elemental energy radiating off your body.

“Hurry,” you whisper. “Someone will come.”

“I-I don’t—”

Barbatos lets his hand grip the gnosis, but he can’t seem to bring himself to take it out from you. Doubtless, it’s because he knows that this gnosis is the only thing allowing you to cling to life—but for him to be able to absorb its power, he has to take it from you when you’re still alive. You need him to take it now. If you want to make sure he has the strength to become one of the Final Seven, this push is the only thing you can offer him.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your lips naturally, and the power of saying them—a power that inevitably rises because those three words, that declaration of your heart’s true sentiments, are the reason you’re able to get up every day, a power that gives and gives and gives and is the sole reason for which you live—sends you a final boost of strength.

You thrust your hand onto Barbatos’s and hold it. 

With the gentleness that only the shadow death can bring, you lift his hand, still closed around your gnosis, from your body. 

The second your gnosis is off of you, it binds to Barbatos.

You can see the power travel into his body: the power that manifested as Lumino in you being absorbed into his body as the tips of his braids turn bright at the edges, a beautiful blue as bright as the sky where the edge of Barbatos's hair was once nearly black. You can feel, then, as the gnosis amplifies his power: it happens in a shockwave that jolts your body, a shockwave that shakes you to the core with the original source of your power now gone.

“You…”

Barbatos stares down at you with wide and teary eyes. Where you seem mesmerized by his transformation, it seems that he’s horrified at yours. No doubt, just as the light entered him, it must be equally visible that it’s left you.

A chilling breeze draws towards you. You shiver under it. 

“Cold,” you mutter, and Barbatos instantly pulls his cape off to wrap you in it. Somehow, it does nothing to warm you up. The cold, it seems, originates from within.

“Stay with me,” Barbatos says, cradling you in his arms. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me. You can live through this, I know it, just stay…”

Ah. 

It’s so cold.

The chill that begins from deep inside you spreads, branching towards your fingertips and your toes and up your neck. With it comes a darkness, one that your power has always protected you from. Now, though, Lumino is weak. It stands no chance at being one of the Final Seven elements. You failed it as an archon. 

“...with me. Please. Please don’t go. Stay. Please. Please…”

You want to respond to him. You’ve never heard Barbatos sound so miserable, so broken. You stare up at him, trying to make your lips form the shape to words that will comfort him. 

You can’t seem to move your lips.

You can’t seem to move your eyes, either. 

Numb, you stare up at Barbatos, unblinking and unmoving. Your gaze is fixed on him, a darkness creeping in at the edges.

No, you think. No, stop. I want to look at him longer. 

The darkness doesn’t oblige. It creeps closer and closer, and a desperate fear begins to overtake you. Is this the last time you’ll see your lover? Why? How? How can that be? That can’t be right. You and Barbatos were supposed to win this war. You and Barbatos were supposed to survive this war. You and Barbatos were supposed to rule a nation together and save the world together and build a life together and—

Why is it all going away?

Stripped of the power of light that had always protected you, the darkness you’d always feared crawls closer. 

Stop, you think. Stop it. Don’t take him away. I want to stay. I want to stay with him. I don’t—

Despite the chilling cold that’s wrapped around all your body, you feel a tear fall.

I don’t want to die.

You hear something that sounds like a scream, but it’s so distant. It’s like a howl: monstrous and enraged and furious and terrifying, yet...familiar. Suddenly, you can’t figure out who this wailing reminds you of, but the thought of the person sends a strange sense of warmth to you. 

It’s nice, you think.

You can’t be quite sure what’s happening anymore. All you know is that it’s cold and dark, so horribly cold and dark. 

The howling sound grows louder. Vaguely, you feel something grip you, shake you, cling to you.

Something about you is instinctively soothed by the touch. Amidst all this cold and all this darkness, you think you can find comfort in this sensation. You know you shouldn’t like it—that the feeling of your body being shaken and clung to and howled and wailed at isn’t something you should like—but there’s peace in it. 

It’s a nice feeling.

It’s a nice feeling. 

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: freedom sword come home

Comment & Like

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

So this is a personal one for me to ask and if you're not comfortable with it don't mind it; how would the tmnt boys (seperate) react when the reader confesses that they're autistic after the boys got curious when she had some peculiar, behavior or stims. The reader would be stressed, because she has a crush on the tmnt boy in question and she didn't want them to find her weird or just stop interacting with her. When she's met with confusion instead, because the boys never heard of it, cue this weird conversation where reader tells them to the best of her ability what it is and the boys just keep asking questions. Also some general headcannons with it maybe?

Okay so I'm actually really happy that you asked me this because I feel like ASD isn't portrayed a lot in any type of media. My ADD and ASD have a lot of overlap so I hope I can capture what you're asking of me!

Now let's get into it!

TMNT Headcanons

The boys reacting to an autistic reader

Leonardo

he wasn't really sure what was happening the first time you reacted

one minute you were standing next to him doing dishes and the next you were attempting to claw your skin off like an angry cat

Leo tried not to look annoyed as he watched you rub your hands against your shirt until your flesh started to turn red

you looked like you were crying but he knew you weren't

but your face was starting to turn purple and your cheeks were puffy from the effort of holding your breath

"Y/N? You need to breathe."

You shot a glare at him, scathing eyes meeting his now very concerned expression

your own softened and you clutched your arms to your chest, heaving oxygen into your lungs until your face became a normal shade again

"Are you okay?"

The words were stuck in your throat and you weren't sure if you should nod or shake your head

so you gave him a half-hearted shrug

he frowned back at you but turned to finish the dishes on his own

when he questioned you about it later he couldn't help but be curious

"Well actually it's uh- it's kinda a sensory type of thing? There are certain textures that I can't stand touching do I avoid them but if I come into contact by accident my brain just kinda explodes and I shut down."

"How exactly does that work though?"

"I don't really understand it much but like- you know that feeling you get when you think there's a bug on you and there's not but it really really feels like it?"

He nodded

"Yeah, it feels like that. And anytime I touch something that triggers that reaction it takes FOREVER to get the feeling off my skin. That's why I usually wear gloves when I do dishes. Guess I just forgot to grab 'em today."

He was sympathetic

and god, you were so embarrassed

lucky for you, Leo's not an asshole

"Well thank you for explaining it to me, you really freaked me out earlier. I'll talk to April and see if we can keep a pair or two at the lair just in case you forget again."

Consider your heart melted

you couldn't even find the words to thank him and holy shit was your face red

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah Leo?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me- us that you were autistic?"

Did you rip the band aid off now or make something up? Which would ,technically speaking, be less catastrophic in the long run?

"I uh- I really like you and I really didn't want you or the other's to look at me differently..."

wow, you liked him? miss ma'am you have saved this boy a world of anxiety and damn does he thank you for it

"Thanks for telling me... and y/n? I really like you to."

Awh fuck yeah, best possible execution of band aid-ripping-off ever

Donatello

Donnie wished he could act surprised when you finally told him

he really wanted to, it would've made you feel better for sure

but he sucked at lying and he didn't want to make you feel like he thought you were an idiot

because that was so far from the truth

after going through extensive research on Mikey's behalf when he suspected he had ADHD Donnie had stumbled across many different websites that discussed the symptoms and overlaps between both disorders

to make a long story short, Donnie knew that you had ASD and he was waiting for you to tell him

it would probably come off as rude if he brought it up in conversation right?

he didn't want to risk it

but that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on you and your behaviors

he was a man of science, of course he was going to analyze you

not in a weird way or anything, just as a curious sort of precaution

but the longer you were involved in the turtle's lives the more noticeable your stims and meltdowns got, Donnie did his best to cover for you without making you suspicious of him

eventually he'd come up with something that he hoped would come across as a friendly gesture and wouldn't set you off or scare you away

it was game night at the lair and you, as always, were perched on the arm of the sofa, a large grin plastered on your face

inside your head was exploding but you were masking it pretty well if you do say so yourself

but Donnie was, well... donnie was donnie

so when he noticed you starting to rock a little more visibly he removed his attention from commentating the game and grabbed a pair of headphones from the side table

you were beyond confused when he passed them to you but your face revealed everything

"They're noise cancelling, try them on."

holy shit it was like putting your head underwater, everything was muffled

not in the way normal headphones did, you quite literally couldn't hear anything at all, just a calm amount of nothing

you nearly started crying when you realized that Donnie had figured you out on his own

but you'd never been more relieved about anything in your life

Raphael

he wouldn't admit that he was mesmerized by your presence

you practically radiated calm

his complete opposite

it was his favorite thing about you, because despite your quiet disposition and calming aura you weren't afraid to call him out or rebut any of his insults

this was not something you expected him to appreciate nor was it something you thought would make you catch feelings

but damn if you didn't

he'd been sitting in on yours and Donnie's little experiment for an hour or so now, watching you both exchange quiet whispers and inside jokes that you always seemed to lag on

then you slipped up

not bad, nothing detrimental to the project, just the same mistake that you'd already made ten times over

you might as well have exploded

"Y'N, you just have to move thi-"

"I KNOW DONATELLO. I FUCKING KNOW AND I JUST CAN'T DO THIS BULLSHIT!"

you set everything down gently enough to avoid breaking it before turning and storming out of the lab, waving your hands like they were on fire

Raph and Donnie exchanged a look that sent the larger red turtle following after you

when you calmed yourself down enough to talk you kept your gaze locked on the wall, explaining that you couldn't make eye contact when you were upset

he might not be the smartest brother, but Raph's no dummy, he put those pieces together pretty quickly after you told him that one small detail

he wasn't upset that you didn't tell him and you'd personally never been more relieved

your heart nearly splattered into the stratosphere when you finally gace him your own explanation

"yeah, I like ya too."

you grinned so wide you were sure your face would split open and your entire body rocked side to side with excitement

he thought that was pretty adorable too

And he did stick around to offer a bit of support when you apologized to Donnie for screaming at him

Michaelangelo

to be frank it probably shouldn't have taken so long for Mikey to realize that you were autistic

the similarities between your own personality and his ADHD were so in sight it was near painful

it was his turn to make dinner that night and you'd made sure that you came over early to help him set up, you knew how side-tracked he'd get and you were the poster child for solid routine

what more perfect matchup existed?

trick question, there isn't one

you were on one side of the counter cutting vegetables and he was on the other throwing said vegetables into the mixing pot

the music was at an ungodly level of loud so your only means of communication were screaming over it

"MIKEY."

"WHA?"

"YOU GOT THE-"

"YEAH."

"AND THE-"

"UH HUH."

"COOL, HAVE YOU SEEN THE-"

"TONGS? NO, THE SKEWERS. YEAH, THEY'RE IN THE OTHER DRAWER."

"THANKS."

the two of you went about your previous tasks, thinking nothing of the conversation that had just taken place

at least until you'd begun washing your knife and cutting board

that's when Casey walked in, looking both perturbed and annoyed at the same time

"Alright, which one of you knows telepathy?"

Mikey exchanged a glance with you and you returned it with a raised eyebrow

"The hell you mean brah?"

he looked at the both of you like you were the ones that had grown four extra heads before speaking again

"You literally just had a conversation with like five words and somehow just knew what the other meant? What's up with that?"

you glanced at Mikey again

"Holy shit, did we?"

"I mean, not really. You used your hands."

now all three of you were confused but it quickly became two when Casey shook his head in defeat and left the room

"You know I think he's right."

he blinked first and your staring contest ended

"But you used your hands-"

"I got autism Mikey, one does not simply not use their hands as forms of speech."

"You're-"

"Yep."

was the silence laughing at you? could it do that? it was kinda rude

"Huh, that actually makes sense, that's not mean is it?"

you shook your head no

"You're just me but fast."

Mikey agreed with that, pestered you with a few more questions, and went back about working, as did you, you saw no reason to address it further

but your cheeks burned red

"Yo- Y/N that actually explains why everyone else thinks we're a thing."

you didn't know if you could choke on air or not but you did it anyways

"Are we?"

he gave you his signature grin

"If we are then Raph owes April a hundred bucks."

you returned his smile

"Oh this oughta be good."

I'd like to preface this by apologizing for my near three week absence. Life got crazy and my writer's block hopped on a train, went through a school zone, killed seven pedestrians, and committed tax fraud before tumbling off a cliff never to be seen again.

But on the bright side- I got my SAT scores back and started some scholarship applications. Super happy with that. School's out in a few weeks so I'll be able to write more (hopefully).

Anyways, I hope I got this one down okay. I may have hyper analyzed the request so I might be a little off. But I really enjoyed doing this one and I hope you like it!

-Mars 🌠

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 10

Chosen One. 

Marianne Al Ghul. 

Mari. 

Pixie.

The Lily of the Desert. 

Marinette Dupain. 

Ladybug. 

The Great Guardian.

And now she would eventually become Marianne Wayne. 

She had had multiple names and lived for what felt like a hundred lives, all very different, but all of them with one thing in common. Damian. 

From the moment he was born until her first death, she lived for him. Always there to aid and protect him at all costs. At all costs. She lived for him. The only time she had something for herself, it was taken from her. So she wasn't good with owning things. Her whole life nothing was truly hers. Damian was the League’s. The Miraculous were the Order’s. She was divided between two organizations. Never truly belonging to one or the other. She ached to belong, so it was very important that she proved herself to her father. She knew she was never enough for her mother, she was indeed the second option. Useful enough to not be discarded, but not the heir she most desired.

So now. Standing in front of her Father, having imagined this moment her whole life, she had to admit, she was scared. Would he reject her too? Would she be enough?

“Father… This is Marianne, your daughter.” Damian presents her. She doesn't know how to act so she stays in place, awaiting instructions or directions, but still getting the time to analyze the man in front of her.

He was taller than she imagined, but intimidating with his Batman attire just as she had pictured. He looked at her in a cautious way, as if at any moment she would combust into flames. She kept her eye on him, looking for some sort of sign on how to act. It took some time but eventually, his expression turned to a mesmerized one. 

“You look like my mother…” He whispered, reaching to her with his right hand but never touching her. His face in awe. “How… I-”

He turned his head to Damian as if he could explain more. In his face a lost and anxious expression. She could see that her little brother wanted to comfort their father, but didn't know how. So he stayed at her side, hoping that his presence was enough. Clearly, it wasn’t.

“I need to think'' And with that he turns and walks out of the cave, never even sparing a glance back. The only thing that can be heard are his footsteps, and when those are gone, an awkward silence installs.

Only then does Marianne let go of the air she didn’t even know she was holding. With not even a nod of his head father had dismissed her. He was similar to Mother after all. Only ever interaction with her if needed, just to make sure she was still alive. She could deal with that, she knew what to expect. That actually calms her more than it should. The uncertainty was still there, but at least she knew that deep down he could care for her in the future as her mother did. 

“Daeh Washanuh” She tells her brother when she sees his indignant face. Her father needed time, she understood that, so for now she would let him be. 

She still felt a bit weak, having spent all her energy between fighting her brother and mending her injured body. Damian must have seen said exhaustion because he instantly went to her side, to support her. With her body pressed against his side, and a strong arm crossing her waist holding her she admired how much he had grown. He was taller than her now. Stronger too. Gone was the 10 year old that followed her around. In his place was a slight better version of that person. She gives him a reassuring smile, trying to transmit her gratitude and appreciation without words, the same way she would do before they were separated. She could only hope they still understood each other after years of no contact.

Damian chooses that instant to start introducing the others. The redhead in the wheelchair looks at her with interest, as if trying to solve a puzzle. She doesn't seem to be judging her like the guy in the red leather jacket with a shocked expression is, so she counted that as a win. The dark haired teen that she knocked out a few days ago looks like he’s seen better days, and by the dark spots under his eyes and the large cup of what she assumed to be coffee in his hand, he was an insomniac, like her. The two still wearing their full costumes start to remove their masks, the one in blue has a calm expression, but the other is still very much shocked.

“Habibti... This is Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Barbara Gordon, and Jason-”

“Todd.” She smiles. “Long time no see.” 

How could she ever forget those blue eyes that hunted her dreams. He was a big part of her past, and she would always be able to spot him in a crowd. 

She can almost remember the first time she met him. At only 13 she was tasked with training this overemotional 16-year-old. Let’s just say their relationship wasn’t good at the beginning. He carried too much anger inside of him to allow him to listen to what she was trying to teach him. He was hot-headed and stubborn, and most of the time she just wanted to throw her dagger at him to see him bleed. But after some time they got close. Closer than they should. 

At that time Grandfather had intensified Damian’s training so she wasn’t able to see him much, instead, she found herself around Jason a lot. They confided in each other. She gave pieces of herself to him that she never gave anyone else, only for him to be ripped from her life as punishment. 

Last she heard her mother had dealt with him. She assumed she had killed him. But seeing him in front of her, healthy and very much alive was a relief. She had mourned him for a long time, but the joy she feels in knowing he was alive was immense.

“Pixie!” Jason speaks for the first time, by now he already got up from his seat, and is now standing in front of her. Different from her Father's reaction, he seems to need to touch her, to guarantee that she is real and truly there. Confused about how she knew his older adopted sibling, Damian backs away from his sister, too stunned to properly comprehend what was happening. She now was using Jason as support, feeling the heat of his body next to her’s, just proving that he was really there.

Pixie was a nickname he gave her when they first met after he discovered she could do magic. At the time she did not understand the reference, not having grown up with fairytales, but after he patiently explained to her about fairies she could see where he was coming from. Small and Magic. That was enough to describe her. And secretly she was pleased to have a nickname especially made for her. “I told you we would see each other again…” He says with a smug smirk on his face. Caressing her cheek with his hand. Oh, how she missed that look on his face. 

“Am I the only one that’s freaking out with this scene in front of us?” The spell is broken by the voice of the blue hero. Richard. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. She knew a bit about him, when she was younger a part of her training was inspired by his stunts on the field. “How the hell do you know her, Jaybird? Bruce’s secret love child?” 

He still holds her, more for support than anything else. It’s been a long time since they’ve been together, but their friendship hopefully still remains. She takes him not letting her go, as a sign that she wasn’t the only one affected by this unexpected reunion. When she first arrived at Gotham she knew she would inevitably meet her extended family when she finally sought her brother. And yes, it came to no surprise that Jason Todd was once her father’s ward. But remember that she did believe him to be dead. And if that was truly the case she would carry her secrets to her grave. But apparently, it was time to come clean to her brother. Her relation with Jason was the one thing she ever kept from Damian. And she could see from the look on his face that he was very confused.

She detaches herself from Jason and tries to reach her little brother, but the day's activity finally takes a toll on her body and she trips and almost collapses on the floor if not for the two that come to her rescue. Jason being the one closer to her catches most of her weight, but Damian has both her hands into his own.

“I'm fine…” She tries, but by the look on both their faces, they don’t believe her one bit.

“Dick, why don't we leave the rest of the interrogation for tomorrow? When Bruce can participate.” Barbara speaks for the first time. She pushes herself away from the table and starts making her way out of the cave in her wheelchair. It seems that her words have power, because with only a grunt and a side glance and he leaves as well. Sometime between her father leaving and Jason making himself known Timothy fell asleep, face down on the table in what could only be described as an uncomfortable position.

If she wasn’t so exhausted she would have questioned how easily Damian’s family accepted to wait until tomorrow for answers. If it was her she would want them as soon as possible. No matter what.

“Come, I’ll show you to my room” Damian removes her from Jason’s arms and starts directing her through the same path all the others took out of the cave. Tomorrow she would come back and admire all the technology and weapons the Bat Cave provided, but for now, she was content in being almost carried to a comfy bed. After almost a month of chasing Gabriel Agreste around the globe and mostly sleeping when she could, wherever she could,  just the thought of sleeping in an actual mattress brought her immense joy. “I promise to not ask questions today, but I need an explanation for the display of affection you gave Todd downstairs.” His tone is stern and she knows he meant that. 

"Deal." He nods, accepting my answer.

We walk through a long corridor for quite some time, but eventually, we stop in front of a door. Damian opens it and carries me to the bed. He sits me in his bed and goes to his wardrobe. While he does that she admires the size of his room, which is big, just as it was in the League, but here she can see bits of his personality. Photos on the wall, drawings on the tables. She is happy that he gets to explore his part of himself. When he comes backs he hands a change of clothes to her, and without saying anything he makes his way to what Marianne assumes is an adjacent bathroom. Leaving her room to change alone. He gave her a black long-sleeved shirt and black pajama bottoms that were definitely too small to git him now, and she can only question as to why he has it still.

She removes her attire and changes into the offered clothes, but not before inspecting the place where there was supposed to be a wound. She was healed, as expected, but her dried blood still clings to her abdomen. By now Damian finally comes back, wearing an outfit similar to hers and carrying a damp towel.

“I thought you would want to clean yourself of the blood.” He hands her the towel. She in return gives him a sincere smile, accepting the offered object and immediately removing all traces of blood from her body. 

While she did that, he sat on the other side of the bed, removing some pillows and getting under the covers. Marianne leaves the towel on the floor beside the bed and carefully puts one knife on the bedside table and her dagger under her pillow. Old habits die hard after all.

Damian observes her with a nostalgic look on his face but otherwise remains silent. He turns the light off by the switch near his bed and the bedroom immediately gets dark, the only source of light coming through the closed windows. As she gets under the covers she feels his body getting closer to hers. And she can’t help but smile again, remembering how many times they did this exact same thing during their childhood without their mother knowing. Or at least they thought she didn't know, not knowing she merely allowed them this simple thing.

“Aishtaqt lak ya 'akhi” She repeats the same words she said to him when they were on the rooftop earlier that night.

Her only answer is his hand finding hers and giving it a squeeze.

Final chapter of part one! Do you like the stoy so far? After a lot of messages from you guys I decided to continue with a part 2 of this story. Still haven’t decided how long it would be, probably about 10 more chapters but who nows. Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, its was finals week at my university and you know how it is. 

Let’s hope I get more time to write! Thank you all fot the support do far! You are all amazing!

It curently 3 am so sorry if there’s any mistakes!

Next

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[lmaoeraserhead]

pairing : stripper!Ushijima x reader

wc: 2.5k

a/n : this is based off of a random thought i had a couple of days ago. It’s so past my bed time right now, this is completely unedited and its most likely awful, but please please please enjoy!

warnings: SMUT 18+, pet names, one (1) pussy slap, mean Ushi, sex work??? idk lemme know if i missed anything please

You hear the opening of Old Town Road from the booth you and some of your closest friends rented for the night. Never in a million years had you imagined you’d be spending your night in a sketchy ass club, and you definitely hadn’t expected the country (if you could even call it that) song from the booming speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome our star performer, Ace, to the stage.” The clear voice rings loud enough to push through your hazy thoughts. Despite having tons of fun with your friends (and one too many drinks), you were tired and just about ready to call it a night. 

The lights suddenly took a dive, and you were left in the dark with your vodka cranberry. Excited squeals can be heard from other people around you. The song started slowly, definitely edited, the bass making the ice cubes in your drink dance with the beat. You could feel the vibration deep in your bones, and it sent a pleasant shiver up your spine. 

As slowly as the lights had plunged dark, they sure took their damn time brightening back up. Squinting from your seat, you could hardly see anything on stage through the red haze of the lights and fog machine. You didn’t know why, but the anticipation had your toes curling in your platforms. The achingly slow buildup pushed you forward in your seat and sent your legs moving to get closer to the main stage. You weaved your way through the packed crowd alone, ducking under and around stray limbs that got in your way. 

The guitar of Old Town Road picks up, and it strikes you odd how sensual the usually goofy song sounds. Of course, you’re in a strip club and you should have at least expected some unconventional set lists. Your friends call out your name from the dark corner they’re sitting in, but you’re mesmerized by someone you can’t even see yet, so you don’t even turn to acknowledge their calls. 

Taking a big gulp from your drink and stealing one of the few empty chairs left lining the stage, the hair on the back of your neck raises when the spotlight finally focuses on the figure that is in the center of your vision. His routine hasn’t even started, and he already has the whole club enthralled. Ace was his stage name, but you wonder what his real name could be. Although, Ace seemed to fit him well enough. He’s built like an executioner, ready to deliver the last blow. 

He’s huge, well over 6 feet tall. His rippling muscle that’s somehow already sweaty and glistening, bulges with every one of his subtle movements. You can’t see his face, which is tilted down underneath a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, but you can only imagine how attractive he is from his build alone. He’s shirtless, wearing jeans, a huge rodeo buckle, and boots with spurs. 

His left hand comes up to lift the brim of his white wicker hat, slowly revealing his smoldering hooded eyes. He is the center of attention, and he’s enjoying it. The hundreds of chattering mouths fall quiet as the beat picks up, along with his very anticipated dancing. His hips move with practiced ease, back and forth, stretching the taut muscles of his stomach. Your eyes find the thatch of hair below his bellybutton, and follow it’s trail, huffing under your breath with dissapointment when you end up at the heavy-looking belt buckle he’s wearing. 

Your mouth suddenly feels dry, you lick your lips and take a sip of your slightly watered-down drink. Your teeth catch your bottom lip when you look back up from your lukewarm vodka to find warm chocolate eyes level with yours, among other things. Sucking in a deep breath, you watch as his body, now perpendicular to the worn wooden stage, as it grinds to the beat. 

His eyes never leave yours as he dances to what is now becoming one of your favorite songs. His fist meets the ground, simultaneously paired with a thrust of his hips. He turns his head to the side, giving you a glimpse of the strong column of his neck. One particularly smooth move of his has your thighs clenching together. 

Not once in your whole life had you ever thought you’d be jealous of a floor, but the way Ace was practically fucking himself against it had you squirming in your seat. The clank of his belt buckle against the hardwood had you imagining his sweaty body above yours, you could practically feel the strong build of his shoulders underneath your fingernails. You could feel the way he’d thrust into you, leaving you a whimpering mess. 

Ace makes his way uprights again, slowly, teasingly. He smirks at you, and only you. His gaze is heavy and his expression sends a swooping feeling through your stomach. The song finally comes to an end, with Ace kneeling down in front of you. His thick index finger is under your jaw, closing your mouth and tilting your head up. You’re both breathless, for two completely different reasons. He places his hat on your head, bends down, and whispers in your ear, “Find me backstage.”

Before he backs away, he pulls your earlobe in between his teeth and growls lowly. Your wide eyes and stunned expression make a chuckle rumble from his bare chest. You nod slowly, because what else were you supposed to do?

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

“You liked the show, huh?” Before you could respond, you were pulled against Ace’s sweaty chest. Backstage was a mess of show runners, other performers, and wires. But somehow Ace had managed to get his own private dressing room, fully equipped with a couch, closet, and functioning shower. And you had managed to find him with the help of his hat on top of your frizzy hair. 

The alcohol you had consumed earlier helped you melt into his sturdy lap, and lean into him, “I enjoyed it very much, Ace.” You contemplated for a bit, tilting your head, “Interesting song choice, though.” You couldn’t help but squirm on his jean-clad thighs as his hands trailed up and down your sides, catching on the hem of your dress. 

“My name isn’t Ace, little one,” he smiled and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, “It’s Ushijima.” He took his hat off of your head with little ceremony and pushed one of his thumbs past your lips. “And from the state of your sloppy pussy you’re trying so hard to grind on me, I’d say you didn’t mind the song too much,” 

You suck on his thumb like a good little girl and nod frantically. Now that you think about it, you had been subconciously rubbing yourself against the hardening bulge in his pants. “M’can’t help it, i-it hurts so bad.” You slur around his thick digit, and drool drops onto your chin. His performance had turned your silk panties see-through, and you were staring to leave a dark spot on the crotch of Ushijima’s jeans. 

“You’re such a messy little thing, aren’t you.” He pulls his thumb away and smears your spit into your cheek, “I bet you’d do anything to ride my cock, hmmm?” He presses your body even closer to him, his body heat deliciously warm. Being this close to him makes you realize just how enormous he actually is, another thought that leaves your thighs clenching. 

Ushijima’s harsh breaths are mingling with yours, you don’t have space to think, but your body is answering every question he shoots your way, tenfold. He kisses you with the ferocity of a starved man. It’s messy, and when he pulls back, a string of saliva connects you both. His pupils are blown so wide that the hazel of his eyes can hardly be seen. 

You nod your head, “Please.” Looking up through your lashes you see him hesitate for just a moment. “Please! Please Ushijima, fuck me.” You’re whining at this point, you know, but you’re so desperate. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and swipes his sweaty hair from his forehead, “get up, little one. I want you to take off this fucking dress.” He lifts you from his lap with ease and turns you around in front of him. “You’ve been teasing me with this outfit all night. Squeezing those soft thighs together in front of everyone, like a whore.” You whimper, suddenly feeling very exposed, “What? You think I didn’t notice?” He taunts you mercilessly. You’re so wet at this point, you can feel it dripping down the inside of your thighs. 

You lift the hem of your dress over your head and drop it next to you on the floor. You’ve never been extremely shy but the man in front of you makes it nearly impossible not to want to run away from his sharp gaze. The black underwear you had decided to wear for the night were nothing special, and your reluctance to wear a bra had come back to bite you in the ass. You were practically naked in front of Ushijima. 

“Your panties too, little one. I can’t fuck you with those in the way, can I?” A small moan gets caught in the back of your throat as he slips his hands underneath the soft silk covering you. “And here I thought you were gonna be my good little slut.” He tsks and shakes his head disapprovingly. The muscles in his jaw work as he slips a finger through your slippery folds. “You’re… so wet.” He admonishes, still circling your cunt but never where you need him the most. 

“No shit.” You roll your eyes and grip his forearm, trying and failing to get his fingers on your clit. He pulls his hand away and before you realize what’s happening, he slaps you through your underwear. The shock is enough to send you back into his lap, mewling. “F-fuck! What was that for?” You thread your fingers together behind his neck and press your bare chest against his, feeling very impatient. 

Ushijima is finally at his limit, apparently, because he reaches in between your sweat-covered bodies and takes off his belt. You gulp and fumble to help him, but again, you’re stopped by his strong grasp on your wrists. “No,” he’s practically growling, “bad little sluts don’t get to touch as they please. Put your hands back where they were and don’t move.” You do as he says immediately, feeling like you’ve already tested your limits for the night. The button and zipper of his pants come undone with a quiet ‘pop’, and he licks his slightly chapped lips fighting the urge to teach you a lesson right then and there. “You better hold on, little one. I’m gonna have to fuck some manners into you.”

His cock slaps his stomach when he finally gets his pants down and Ushijima breathes a sigh of relief. You choke on the thick air of his dressing room when your eyes finally catch a glimpse of what you had been grinding on earlier. His dick is enormous, very befitting of its owner, but you were regretting your loud-ass mouth right about now. The tip is red and angry, leaking precum against his impressive abs. Ushijima’s hand can barely wrap itself around his impressive member when he strokes himself a few times before hissing out another sigh through his teeth. 

“Don’t worry, baby it’ll fit.” His words did little to reassure you as he lined himself up with your slick entrance. Your position gave you some small amount of control, although you knew Ushijima had his large hands on your waist for a reason. “Take what you can, for now.” His soft eyes met yours for a moment as he rubbed circles into your back, his harsh words gone for a moment. 

You lowered yourself onto his length slowly, using his shoulders as leverage. Ushijima filled you like no one had ever managed before, and when you thought you had seated yourself completely, there always seemed to be another inch. Mouth open and eyes wide, you were babbling incoherently, the delicious stretch of his cock left you drooling and dumb. 

To help you, Ushijima finally gave your neglected bud the attention you had been seeking all night. The small amount of friction he allows sends you spasming around his length. Between moans and whines, Ushijima could hear curses and little cries of ‘thank you, Ushi’, he smiles, thinking it’s completely precious how quickly you managed to fuck yourself stupid. 

“That’s it little one, just like that. That’s a good fucking girl. Take what you need from my cock,” He smirks and brings your face close to his own, gripping your cheeks tight, “Before I ruin every other man for you.” He kisses you on the forehead, almost condescendingly, before grappling your hips again and thrusting up into your messy cunt. 

His thrusts are brutal, his sweet demeanor gone now that he’s chasing his own release, using you as nothing but his own personal fucktoy. His grunts get louder and the muscles in his defined stomach grow taught the closer he gets to his orgasm. Ushijima’s strength is impressive, it has to be with the way you’ve gone limp in his lap, shaking from the over stimulation. 

“P-please cum Ushijima.” You hiccup around the syllables of his name and scratch at his upper-back. You’re jostled with every powerful thrust he gives you, too tired to meet them. All you can do is take the pleasure he gives you. 

Moaning a long string of curses, Ushijima’s movements become more erratic and his cock swells impossibly further, “Where do you want my cum little one?” His teeth catch his bottom lip and he continues to hump into you frantically.

You whimper as you feel the heat in your belly starting to spread, “I-inside! Want you t-to fill me up Ushi.” The pleasure building up inside you finally snaps when you feel Ushijima’s warm cum coat your insides. He keeps thrusting into you shallowly, almost unconsciously, as you both ride out your orgasms. 

After a few beats of heavy breathing and muffled club music, Ushijima clears his throat, “Hey, uh, are you alright?” His hands are rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, which are shaking horribly. 

You lift your head up from his neck and blink dazedly a few times before smiling, “Never been better, big guy.” You truly are dick drunk, “But I could use some help getting to the bathroom.” You brush a few stray hairs from Ushijima’s forehead and laugh when he picks you up bridal style, carrying you like you asked. 

“I can do that, little one.” He smiles back at you, “If you don’t mind can I, uh. Fuck this sounds awful.” He laughs awkwardly, “Can I get your name, maybe?”

You blink back at the man holding you naked against his chest. “It’s Y/n.” You tell him with a small smile.

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

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[meigh-day]

Color Blind (Tsukishima x Reader)

Title: Color Blind

Pairing: Tsukishima x Reader

Warnings: None just tooth rotting fluff

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.4k

———————————————————–

Imagine all your life you see shades of grey. You learn to love the shape of things or how they feel or smell rather than their color. You've been told that, someday, if you fall in love with someone and it's returned, you'd get to see color. Then, they said, you'd understand what all the fuss was about. But you're happy with the way you've learned to love things. Learning to appreciate the texture of a flower petal or the way each one sways in a warm summer breeze. You loved the way your favourite sweater felt against your skin, the way it warmed you when nothing else could, whatever color it was you were sure it had to be your favorite.

And you were right, it was your favorite color because it was the same color of his eyes.

Though you had no idea that you'd meet him running such a mundane errand like groceries but there he was, tall and handsome, illuminated by the cold lights of the frozen food aisle.

You stood awkwardly to the side, watching as he pulled a box from the shelf, then hesitate before putting it back and grabbing another. It was only as he was tossing it into the cart that he saw you, hands fidgeting with the handle of your basket. He glanced at the now closed door behind him and then back at you before speaking. "Sorry, am I in the way?"

You reply with a questioning hum before your brain catches back up and you realize the handsome stranger is staring at you but more than that is talking to you. " Oh! Uh, yea but no rush." "I'm all done here anyway." He gives you a little smirk before pushing his cart along and exiting the aisle. From the corner of your eye you could swear he paused just before the end of the aisle but there could have been a hundred different reasons for that. You were quite certain that you hadn't been the cause, but it would be nice to be wrong.

After that initial encounter you saw him again the following week and the one after that too. In fact when you saw him a fourth time, once again brought together in the frozen food aisle, you couldn't help but laugh. Out loud in fact, the sound of which had him turning towards you. The expression on his face when his gaze landed on you could have been mistaken for excitement but you chalked any enthusiasm to general surprise.

"We really need to stop meeting like this." You laugh out, not bothering to wait for him to move as you reach into the open door. "Hm, I suppose you're right." He murmured just loud enough for you to hear, the words stinging a little more than you expected. You place the item in your basket and turn, offering him up an apologetic smile before stepping away from both him and the cold air of the unit. "Uh, see ya." The words tumble out as you try and shuffle away, already feeling like a huge idiot for saying anything in the first place.

"Hey wait up!" He calls out, closing the distance in a couple of strides. "Do you want to go get coffee or something with me?"

You can't help but gawk up at him as his words process through your mind. "Like, now?" "What?" He laughs. "No, I was thinking maybe tomorrow if you're free." You felt your cheeks heating up but you weren't completely sure if it was because of embarrassment or that fact that you just got asked out on a date by the handsome grocery store stranger.

"I'd like that.... Uh..." You falter and he realizes why. "Tsukishima Kei." He offers you a smile along with his name.

That coffee date led to another which led to a date at the movies and then a dinner date that concluded with a walk in the park and a kiss.

About three weeks later you wake up and notice just how bright your room seemed to be. Maybe it was the dull throb in your head, a result of another late night talking with Tsukishima on a video call. A video call that you had fallen asleep on and had several screenshots taken, one of which may or may not be a certain someone's phone background. Yet, as you looked around the room, you felt your entire body freeze. Your once grey world was teeming with life and color. For several long seconds you just sat on your bed, awestruck by how beautiful it all was. You ran your hand over the familiar texture of your blanket, eyes finally lowering to see the path your fingers took over the fabric, mesmerized by the colors that were woven together in such a beautiful pattern. You weren't sure how much time had passed but all of a sudden you realize someone has been knocking at your door. "Coming!" You call as you hurry across the living room, swinging the door open to a slightly irritated looking Tsukishima. His expression softens when he sees you, cheeks damp with tears. "Are you ok?" He asks gently as he moves towards you, his thumb wiping away at the tears.

"I'm great." You smile up at him. You knew he was good looking before but now, seeing his pretty blonde hair and warm brown eyes, he was just so beautiful. "Wow." You breath out, more tears falling carelessly down your cheeks. "Seriously, what the hell? You're kinda freaking me out." "Sorry..." You mumble, hands reaching out to run through his hair. Kei just stands there, watching you in total confusion. What had he walked in on? You were crying but you looked happy? Not really knowing what else to do, he led you towards the couch and sat you down.

"Hey. Are you listening?" He asks, turning your face to him, forcing you to focus on his eyes. His warm brown eyes that seemed to be streaked with gold. "Focus. Please." You sigh but offer him a smile. "I am." You put your hands over his and give them a small reassuring squeeze. "I'm ok. Honestly. I just think you're really beautiful."

"You- what?!" He sputters, cheeks growing more pink the longer you stare. "What's gotten into you?" He finally mumbles out as he let's go of your face. "I'm sorry. I've just.. Have you... Can you see..." You stop and start a few times before he sighs and pulls you into his chest, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Yea. I can." He says quietly into your hair as he holds you.

He would never admit it to you but when he woke up that morning, Tsukishima cried. He knows he's prickly, more than most but he tries his best. Especially for you. He'd never seen such a pretty smile before you'd offered him yours. It was small and maybe a little awkward but when he left the store that day he kicked himself for just walking away from you. The fact that he did it again two more times had him nearly pulling his hair out from how spineless he was acting. Yet week after week he found himself pacing the frozen food aisle hoping you'd appear and when you did he felt a small sense of calm wash over him every time.

Kei would never tell you how, as he watched you sleep the night before, listening to the sound of your soft even breathing, he whispered that he loved you. Just three short words. They were neither beautiful nor fully expressive of just how far he had fallen for you but he said them because they were true.

He'd never admit that the first thing he sought out when he was met with a world teeming with beautiful colors was you. There was nothing more he desired than to see the color of your eyes and how they sparkled when you looked at him. He wanted to see the color of your hair in the sun and how you seemed to glow in its light. He wanted to see the color of your lips and how they darkened with each fervent kiss. He wanted to see you and how his love for you had only made you somehow more beautiful.

He may never tell you any of that but the evidence of your mutual love was all around you in each and every color that now painted the world you two share.

[death---dealer]

*chanting* ms em give us your first kiss interpretation with the 10th doctor

You know what this would have been fine if i wanted to write fics when i first watched doctor who but no now i gotta do it like 15 years LATER. Reblogs and likes are totally appreciated, as is feedback! Thanks guys. 

Title: Diamonds in the Sky. Pairing: Reader x 10th Doctor. Fandom: Doctor Who. Words: ~ 2.5 K.  Summary: What does a first experience feel like for a man who’s lived so many lives and has seen so many firsts? Rating: K. ( Super fluffy, some angst lol so be ready. )

Tagging: @ok-anon

You could see him through the semi-transparent middle of the TARDIS. Through the churning of the engine, through the time that was bent around you, through the space that was almost smothering. Though the box was bigger on the inside, at times for you, it felt as if you were crammed chest to chest with him, unable to breathe, excitement running through your veins at the idea of what your next adventure with the Doctor would be. Admittedly, you had gotten quite accustomed to the lifestyle. To the sounds coming out of his mouth as he swirled around the console, mumbling incoherence in a fashion that was purely Time Lord. From the way that his trench coat fluttered behind him as he pulled a lever, feeling in his bones the very movements of the TARDIS, the way that his fingers lingered for a second too long out of instinct before he tapped away to do something on the other side of the console, now right before your eyes with his back towards you. The Doctor’s face was easy to imagine. Eyebrows pressed together in complete focus, lips split apart, tongue occasionally coming out in some sort of brilliance as he said something directed in your direction.

“Where do you feel like? Bitter freezing world, mounds of snow and giant snow castles or perhaps a bit more sunny--- A bit more like an actual holiday with the family-- Like---”

“Florida?” You suggested with a laugh, finally tugging yourself out of a strange linear space that you were placed into more and more often whenever you found yourself admiring him. You stood up and glanced upwards at him. The Doctor found himself stopping in his tracks looking at you though the pause in his actions was hardly noticeable to anyone but himself. The way you looked at him at times, like right now, with innocence swirling rampant between the two of you, uncovered emotions not willing to be said, he felt like melting on the spot. He popped his mouth and turned away from you for a second, swallowing what he wanted like he so often did and collected focus.

You saw his shoulders slump forward almost comically, his lips pursing together as your joke sunk into his mind before he twirled around quickly, nearly enough to send you flying back into your seat once again like the TARDIS did when first shifting into flight. The smile was still plastered on your face as he pointed at you, flipping one more shift on the console. She almost purred at being touched by him, not that you could blame the machine. From the way he finessed the TARDIS, it wasn’t an unexpected reaction. You were sure if you were in its place, you’d give an even more exaggerated reaction.

“What’s so wrong with Florida? Y’know, for a human place, it is quite nice. That got that family oriented spot, with the mouse and the duck... What’s it called?”

“Disney World?” You offered, holding one of your hands out metaphorically.

Snapping his fingers, he almost danced towards you, the Converse on his feet clanking against the metallic flooring. Excitedly, he grabbed your shoulder with one hand, the other gripping around your open hand and for a split moment, you thought he was going to pick you up and twirl you. But the simple grazing against your shirt clad arms was enough for you as you tossed your head back in laughter at his happiness. Had your eyes been open as you laughed, you’d have been face to face with the look he gave you. Melting again… Soft brown eyes melting as he stared at the subtle lines on your face as you grinned, grabbing hold of his hands on your body, leaning towards him to keep him near.

“Yes! That’s the place. Disney!” The two of you were so near one another, it was a natural reaction to smile at the feeling of his rapid breath against your face. A smile different than the one plastered on your face before. This one was soft and sweet, reserved specifically for the moments you knew the Doctor wasn’t paying attention to your expression but you longed for him to just so he could know how you were feeling towards him. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be as he let go of you to walk around the TARDIS, opting to lean against the wall, “You do know that man froze himself years ago, his body is kept under lock in key, some weird base on Earth. Weird, humans and wanting to live for years beyond needed.” He paused, looking down at his own hand in thought. “Trust me, living more than what was intended is a bitter sign indeed. No one's meant to live forever, if they were, imagine the turmoil you’d lot’o’humans would put yourselves in. Pokin’ your heads into all sorts of cans. ”

The Doctor clicked his tongue and you were nearly mesmerized watching that action as he slid the appendage across his sharp teeth before turning towards the main console of the TARDIS. That was the end of that side of the conversation, but the longing in his voice put it on hold for now. Another pin in a topic that was skimmed upon every once and a while that left you longing to touch him in reassurance. Just to touch him, not physically but maybe emotionally to calm down the raging storm that seemed to be brewing beneath his skin. There was a reason why the Daleks called him what they did. The Oncoming storm. But what if the storm had been there for years? Just simmering? Lonely, afraid, growing into something uncontainable? There was something there that you feared but it was often forgotten when he’d hold your hand running down a street, when he’d press his pointer finger to your lips to hush you in the excitement of a moment… Your fingers twitched. There it was! The feeling of shifting with him, never quite knowing where you were going to land, and even if you did have a slight idea of where you were going to vacation next, it was short lived as history liked to follow where you tread. The TARDIS made her whirl of sounds, but not the clunk that came along with landing.

“Where are we going?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds longer than the Doctor intended just to see if the familiar sound of landing was just delayed or---

“We haven’t landed,” He murmured, whether to himself or to you as he reached for the screen to look out. “Still sort of just driftin’.” His brows furrowed once again as he plucked his glasses out of the chest pocket of his pin-stripe suit with some sort of strange elegance that you found almost entrancing. “In space.”

“Well, we are in a spaceship-”

Your comment was put on pause as the doors of the TARDIS swung open, the Doctor freely popping his head out to see where. The screen was helpful but right now, his eyes needed to see what was going on. He was quick- you hadn’t even noticed him running towards the door until you felt the brush of air against your bare arms which yearned you towards the Universe that was just a step outside the door. He plopped himself down, sitting on the edge of his ship with his long legs dangling carelessly out into space. You could see the pout on his face without even looking straight at his face, the tilt of his head sparking curiosity within your own mind as you waltzed towards him and sat down behind him, gazing over his shoulder as your head rested in the crook of his neck. “Tell me Doctor, where’ve we ended up this time?”

That was merely a whisper in his ear as he took his glasses off, pressing part of the frames against his lips. “Seems to be a dead star,” you hummed in response to that, “But at this stage in its life, this type of star…. Becomes so compressed that it essentially becomes a diamond.” He turned towards you, faces centimetres apart now. “No idea why we’ve stopped here.”

“No complaints from me,” You admitted, glancing at the colors. There was mainly blues and purples, swirling in a dust of clouds around a dense object that you had deduced was the diamond the doctor had mentioned. Or at one time in its life, it was a star. You found it easy to imagine, having spent so much time with the man you were travelling with. Your imagination wandered farther than it ever had before. “It’s beautiful.”

“To think that something so miraculous becomes even more amazing after death---” He started speaking and turned his attention to what was happening outside. “Fantastic. Even after all this time, the Universe still finds a way of surprising me in unexpected ways.”

Settling down next to him, you crossed your legs and lightly leaned against him. “Imagine how I feel.”

The Doctor smiled softly at that and chuckled. He liked to do that on his own time- imagining how you must have felt, how your train of thought trailed… But now, unexpectedly, he was thinking about it and he answered truthfully, “I don’t think I can--- it’s been much too long for me to remember how first moments felt, they’re dim in my mind now, many things are forgotten over the hundreds of years and I often don’t feel it until the moment happen again. What I imagine it feeling like for you is…” His hand rested upon yours in your lap as if he were empathetically reaching out to you, something common that you had seen him do a handful of times. “Pure happiness- maybe fear and nerves at times, like now---” He swallowed and smacked his lips dismissively, trying to ignore the fluttering he so viciously felt within his own hearts syncing with yours, “It’s fleeting for me now, I’ve been alive for so long, (Name). Now imagine how I feel.”

You knew how he felt--- you could almost absorb what he was experiencing, his hand now grasping yours a bit tighter than before, like his emotions were sinking so deeply into your fingertips. He was laying bare to you--- a strange sensation. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath in. What you felt was--- Was… “I know.” You whispered to him, “You needn’t worry about being alone anymore, Doctor.”

“It’s inevitable,” He replied back to you, a bitter tone behind his usually chipper voice. “There will come a time, (Name), when you’ll get old and I won’t… Even having you now, I feel so alone because I know what is happening. What will happen. There’s so many things I can stop, but this...” There was a vague gesture between the two of you that he made with his free hand.

Things got quiet between the two of you quickly. The only sound that was apparent was coming from the TARDIS and yet it seemed to deafen you. The sleepless space that was staring at you, the warmth of his hand still clinging to yours desperately. Hold me, it said, forever. It was wishful thinking on the Doctor’s side, this was something he was also consciously aware of. Forever would always happen for him but it was never meant to be between the two of you. Drawing your attention from the scenes of the galaxy in front of you, you let your eyes fall on him beside you. Shadows played on his sunken cheeks, against his face giving the illusion that he was in some sort of strange blue firelight. He was handsome and with his hand still on yours, you knew that what you were feeling was evident in his own mind. That your ambitions in the moment were coinciding with his.

“There is---”

“A first you’d like to have?” He murmured quietly, squeezing your hand before letting it go.

“With you.” To say that the voice you used was reassuring would be an understatement. You were soft spoken in the moment, reaching with the hand he had been holding so tightly to cup the side of his face. Instantaneously, a rush of emotion ran into you. Not all were yours, not all were his. Some were entwined in some strange dance that could only assimilate upon being your thoughts, together, as one.

“With you.” He repeated your statement, letting his hand come up to grasp the side of your face to mimic your own actions. With hooded eyes, the Doctor gazed down at you, letting it flutter between your eyes and your lips. He’d been close to you like this before, in fact, being this near felt good to him, it felt close to ecstasy to know that after what he had done with his own hands, with his own thoughts, that someone would still want him the way that you did right now. “Right now, seems like a good time---”

You were the one to hush him this time around as you closed that small gap between the two of you. It was a barely there sort of touch at first, lips holding in an awkward dance before the Doctor pulled away with hard pressed together lips and an even harder swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing with that action. That’s all it was, just a peck but he was left feeling this sort of churning in his stomach. He wanted to do it again, and looking at you through a flush of eyelashes, he could tell that you wanted the same thing. And so, the gap disappeared once again as he took initiative and allowed his mouth to form against yours properly, your hand reaching to tangle in the hair and the back of his head while he held the side of your face, still swallowing in large sumps the emotions that were tangled in your mind. Everything you were feeling, have felt about him were strewn on the table like a deck of cards at a Poker table. And in return, you received the same thing. It felt like a burning in your throat as if you had just guzzled down an entire shot of whiskey.

“Right then.” The brown haired Time Lord muttered against your lips and continued to caress your face with a gentle graze. “Florida it is…”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.21}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.8k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Tell me again." Cas demanded as she snatched a piece of bacon off Simon's plate, while keeping her piercing gaze fixed on Robin. "Why are you wearing way fancier clothes than normal?"

"I told you that I'm not telling you, and that's not going to change no matter how many times you ask." Robin shrugged, then subtly moved her own bacon over to Simon to compensate for his loss. The boy thanked her with a small smile, but obviously didn't dare to interrupt the girls' conversation with words. So Robin looked back to Cas. "You'll just have to wait and see like everyone else. Showing some patience will do you good."

"I do have a suspicion." Jorien smirked quietly while Cas just pouted, and Robin quirked an eyebrow at her, which however didn't bother the girl at all. "You don't have to glare at me, I didn't plan on telling anyone."

"Good." Robin replied in an equally quiet tone, but she couldn't help the feeling that Jorien knew a lot more than she let on. Even more than she should know, perhaps. Oh well… only time could confirm that.

"I honestly can't believe that Professor Snape is going to do our dancing class!" Cas finally got over herself and continued with her usual morning-ramble that never failed to entertain at least half of the table they were residing at that day. "I mean, I did watch him while he was dancing with Robin last year, but I honestly can't imagine how he's going to cope with people having to touch him. Melissa and I saw how Professor Sprout put her hand on his arm last week while deep in conversation, and he literally flinched away before giving her a death glare. If you ask me, that man has some serious problems."

"Who do you think he's going to force to dance with him?" Gideon asked with a humoured huff, and Robin suddenly found herself glad that she never spoke much during meals. That way at least nobody thought her oddly quiet on the issue.

"Oh gods, I have no idea." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and then sighed. "I'm bloody curious nonetheless. I literally can't imagine him actually dancing today in the first place, and hadn't I seen it before, I promise you I would be entirely convinced that he can't dance at all."

"I'm pretty sure the entire school watched him dancing at last year's ball… Who would've thought that was ever in the realm of possibility." Gideon shrugged, then glanced at Robin. "Say, why did you even agree to dance with our very own dungeon bat? I think you might just be the only one who ever did."

Robin thought for a second about telling them that she had been the one to ask him in the first place, but that wouldn't really fit in with his 'scary professor' image and she wouldn't dare scraping at that. So she settled for a different truth, which came out a bit more harshly than intended. "I will gladly dance with him again any time, if that's what you're wondering about, and I would choose him over any of the imbeciles who think it necessary to insult him to flatter their own meek egos. I haven't ever had a better partner, and it was I who was lucky to have that dance indeed, so until you can keep up with that, you'd better be keeping your noses in your own business."

The group was quiet for a moment, while everyone was obviously feeling scolded by Robin's words, but she didn't bother rectifying her intentions. Should they know that she didn't appreciate it when they spoke badly of Snape, or subjected themselves to pathetic gossip and rumour. The only one who looked rather amused by the entire thing was Jorien, which in return put fuel to Robin's belief that the girl knew more than her peers.

"So, what do you think Lisa is going to wear to the ball, huh? Not that hideous thing she showed us in the magazines, hopefully…" Cas finally broke the silence, changing the topic as easily as if the awkwardness before hadn't happened at all, and when everyone engaged in cheerful chatting again, Robin was honestly glad for the average student's shallow approach to conversation. Sometimes, it truly was a gift that other people didn't overthink quite as much as she did herself.

Breakfast went by quickly from there on, without any more disconcerting questions or topics other than the ordinary kind, and once the meal was officially over, the great hall became increasingly more vacant. When the boys finally went to leave, Robin got up as well, but instead of accompanying them to the exit, she made her way to the head table unseen by those whose eye she was trying to avoid, and then spent the next few minutes discussing the terms of their bullshit bingo with Snape. They intentionally engaged in this topic of conversation rather than discussing something of actual importance, such as the impending dancing instruction, for that would have reminded both of them of the uncomfortable truth that by lunch, the entire school would likely be talking about this. About them, dancing. Last night, neither of them really had thought about the consequences of having to hide just how close they were while being in the center of public display like this, but then again, it didn't change a thing now that they were suddenly hyper aware of all the very real students around them. Students who were taking more and more interest in the two black-clad figures standing where once the head table had been even after everyone else was gone. Robin's face was set in calm neutrality as always, just like Snape wore his usual scowl, but when they looked at each other once more for a brief moment of reassurance, Robin knew that they both had made their decision, and now they would go through with it. Happily, and without a hint of regret whatsoever. She almost would've smiled to herself when she turned back towards the students ahead of them, and mirrored his stance with her arms crossed behind her back while they watched the dunderheads in silence. Public display or not, this would be over soon, and she would enjoy it as good as possible.

When the hall was finally cleared of tables and seats, and it was just the fourth year Slytherins on one side and the Ravenclaws on the other, all it took was for Snape to move a few steps towards the middle of the hall for everyone to fall silent within seconds. The sheer power he held over people with his mere presence still gave Robin chills, but unlike the effect he had on everyone else in the room, those chills were very much pleasant ones for her. The neutrality on her face stayed set in stone nonetheless, and for a while she merely listened to him explaining the common ordeal much like McGonagall had, but with one subtle difference. She had explained dancing as a cultural custom, a form of etiquette much like properly using one's cutlery, with a clear focus on getting the movements right and sustaining a sense of elegance. Snape however had a bit of a different understanding of what it meant to dance, and Robin couldn't help being mesmerized by the deeper meaning behind his not-quite-so shallow explanation; to him, dancing obviously was an art. It was like a dialogue without words, a mutual understanding of giving and taking with equal care and attention. A game of control and surrender, and yet of equality and trust. Foremost, it was all about one's partner, and not about upholding an outside appearance. That perhaps was the only part he worded quite as directly as Robin knew he meant it, but she had no idea how much of this actually got through to the students. Then again, what wasn't there to understand about the delicacy of a swift and smooth waltz? Going by the looks on the students' faces, obviously a lot.

After the unintentional poetry that seemed entirely wasted on most people currently present, Snape went on to explain the actual dance. Six basic steps, no more and no less, but Robin didn't particularly listen to that part for more than the constant flow of his voice. Instead, she sought out Cas and Jorien in the group of Slytherins, and as her eyes traveled over the students, she found herself surprised by just how many of the faces she had seen before. The vast majority of the fourth years was almost familiar to her at this point, and the rest at least somewhat recognizable. She'd never realized that she'd tutored almost all of them before. But what were their names again…? Good gods, her respect for her teachers grew an ineffable amount for memorizing hundreds upon hundreds of names like it was nothing. How did they do that anyway?

Lost in thought and silent question to herself, she missed the rousing of whispers around the room, the glances thrown at her, and was only drawn out of her head when Snape's voice suddenly sounded from right next to her.

"It is time." He said almost under his breath, in a soft tone that would very well betray his indifferent expression if anyone else would have heard but Robin. Then he offered a hand to her in a simple and silent question, which brought the faintest smile to Robin's lips in return. Of course he wouldn't actually ask, at least not with about fifty pairs of eyes fixed on them quite so intently.

"They're all staring at us…" She breathed with a hint of a smile, then placed her hand in his and ignored the surge of electricity that ran up her arm upon the brush of skin against skin. "Well, at least you have their fullest attention now."

"We do." He corrected quietly as he led her back to the middle of the hall, under the careful watch and quiet commentary of their students, before stopping short and drawing her closer to himself. Robin's hands found their destined places without conscious thought while Snape's did the same, and while she wanted to sigh at the gentle warmth of his palm pressing against her back, she also wanted to smile when he almost leaned into her touch in return. It wasn't a visible reaction, obviously, and neither did she give one herself, but rather a common feeling that fell over them like a soothing blanket of safety and belonging. Her thoughts didn't linger however when a soft music started playing out of nowhere as soon as they had found their positions, and with the easy grace that was to be expected of a proper waltz, they started moving through the wide space of the hall.

It really was quite like he had explained, a wordless dialogue spoken entirely with the eyes in a lingering gaze, and a fixed focus solemnly on each other in the shared movements of the dance. Before long Robin couldn't help smiling a little more brightly than her facade of neutrality could cover up for, but she honestly couldn't care less about it. How was she supposed to hide both her feelings for Snape AND the joy of dancing with him? Impossible. Thus, as it seemed, showing a bit of the lesser evil was the best she could do, and if she looked closely enough, he seemed to be fighting a similar war within himself.

It was much too soon when the musical piece floated to an end on its last notes, and they came to a stand in the middle of the room, which oddly enough had remained quite silent throughout the whole endeavour. Robin's chest was heaving ever so slightly –it had been a while since she'd gotten so much exercise– and she had trouble tearing her eyes away from his, even after the broken second it took her to remember the many students gawking at them. Her smile dimmed down the remaining bit back into neutral territory, she focused on calming her breathing, and finally also took a step backwards to an appropriate distance to her partner. The roaring fire inside of her however didn't dim down in the least, and as she held his gaze for a moment longer, she had no doubt he got a clear view of just that in her eyes. It made the corners of her lips quirk up for a fraction of a second, which elicited much the same reaction from him for an even shorter moment, before he finally turned back towards the students in complete professor mode and with the usual grandeur and billowing robes. Instead of smiling at his antics like she wanted to, Robin merely crossed her arms behind her back with his mirrored signature indifference painted on her face and thought about the last five minutes.

All in all, they had done remarkably well; to the students, it had been nothing but a factual demonstration of a dance, that much she could read on their faces now. It was odd, really, and oh so typical that all of Snape's and even her own microexpressions had gone unnoticed by the majority of students at least. If it hadn't, there surely would be more glances and whispers now. Instead, most of the students simply looked either bored or eager to start practicing themselves, and that really was as good an outcome as she could've hoped for. No one suspected a thing. Brilliant!

Snape briefly gave a few more instructions for the following practice session, effectively threatening everyone to stay in line, and while the students then more or less reluctantly paired up to try their luck, he came to stand next to Robin once again.

"Thank you for a perfect dance." His voice took on the same quiet tone as before, and Robin didn't miss the subtle brush of his arm against her shoulder as he moved past her. She had to smile before she could help it, while her poor pathetic heart skipped more than just one beat.

"Anytime." She breathed in return, and after the second it took her to get a grip on herself now again, they both went on to do just as planned; instructing the dunderheads in the art of dancing, and playing their little game of slightly modified bullshit bingo on the side.

It really was quite a blessing that McGonagall had given them the shorter time frame before lunch, for in no time at all it was nearing noon, and the lesson came to an end when the tables had to be put back into place for the meal. Funnily enough, the students' practice had been more than successful, and in comparison to Robin's memories, the young Slytherins and Ravenclaws had done a whole lot better now than the mixed Slytherin and Gryffindor students under McGonagall's tutelage back then. While the students settled down at the tables that were put back into place, Robin told Snape about her observation –not without a sense of pride, admittedly– and he seemed more than pleased with her words as well. Not that he would ever admit that much while in public, but Robin could tell by the not-smirk and the fairly smug expression he gave McGonagall when she showed up for lunch entirely oblivious to the conversation that had taken place seconds before. That, and he had won at their game by far, which also served to brighten his mood enough to actually show. Yes, for a more or less spontaneous dancing lesson on a gloomy Saturday morning, they really had done their very best, and had –against all odds– had quite a bit of fun on the side.

When the other professors started appearing at the head table in a shocking eagerness not for the impending lunch but for the hottest gossip about the recent dancing class, Robin took it as her cue to leave. She did feel sorry to leave Snape for their curiosity to prey on, but there was nothing she could do other than giving him an encouraging smile and say 'laters' in the hopes he would know that he still had their afternoon plans which he could look forward to. If he was remotely as happy about them as she was, that is. But then again, finishing their experimental potion and taking a walk in the snow were rather lovely prospects indeed.

With an almost defeated sigh, Robin finally made for the Ravenclaw table where Jorien and Cas had already taken a seat and were now chatting (or rather bickering) away like always.

"Hey guys… how'd you like the dancing?" She asked as she flopped down on the bench next to Jorien, for the space next to Cas was obviously reserved for the boys who had yet to appear. "Both of you did quite well, actually, if you'd fancy to hear my opinion on it."

The girls fell silent in but a second, and then continued to stare at Robin for a moment in an unspoken agreement that made her uneasy. Had she said something wrong? It was just supposed to be a compliment…

"Are we really doing this?" Cas asked in return, ignoring the previous question entirely.

"Yes we are." Jorien chuckled. "It's Robin, what did you expect?"

"Nothing but this, actually."

"Right?!"

"Guys!" Robin protested with a frown, and alternating glances between both of them. "What's going on? Explain."

"Did you know that you smiled while dancing with Snape?" Cas asked with a smug smile of her own. "Not enough for anyone else to take special notice of, obviously, but we've known you and your subtlety for years now. It was hard to miss that you actually smiled for once."

"And?" Robin raised an eyebrow at her in return, and she had a vague feeling where this conversation was going. Not good.

"You never smile." Cas replied with a huff in amusement. "You smirk, or sneer, but you never smile."

"Of course I smile! Quite often even." She defended herself immediately, but as she ran through her memories of instances where she'd knowingly smiled, she came to realize that the majority if not all of them had been in the sole company of one potions professor. Oh dear.

"You don't, Robin. Hardly ever, and even then it's not like an actual happy smile. Nor is it sincere like this one." Jorien added in a bit more mildly, but no less amused. "It was nice to see what you look like when you truly enjoy yourself."

The heat crept up and along Robin's neck and onto her cheeks in an instant, while the churning of her stomach grew a bit too strong to merely indicate a timely desire for lunch. Bloody hell, she hadn't really thought about how the girls might perceive the situation… they did know her a lot better than any of the other students indeed, and that might very well lead to some unforeseen consequences. It already had, obviously. Damnit.

"Well, and so what? I did enjoy myself a lot while dancing, yes. I already told you during breakfast that he's the best partner I've ever had, so logically I do enjoy dancing with him. Otherwise I'd hardly have volunteered to help him with the lesson." She tried to shrug it off like she often did when she didn't want to talk about an issue. Playing things down, and distracting the opponents by giving small chunks of the truth on other areas. "He's my friend, of course I'd help him with the class. Especially when McGonagall just asked him to do it out of the blue last night."

"Oh, so he's your friend now, huh?" Cas grinned, and Jorien smacked her in the shoulder across the table, much to the blond girl's irritation. "What, I didn't say anything wrong! Before now, Robin always rather made a point of it that they're just working together."

"It's not supposed to become known that we're friends, alright? It might give people the wrong impressions, so keep your voices down, yes?" Robin gave both girls a pointed look, and they reluctantly nodded in agreement. "So, perhaps I did smile while dancing with him. I like him, and I like dancing with him. Is there an issue with that?"

"No!" Cas replied in an instant, with rising eyebrows and an apologetic expression. "Of course not, rather on the contrary!"

Robin gave her a questioning frown in return, but before she could make an attempt to ask just what she meant by that, Jorien jumped in.

"What Cas means is that it's nice to know that you two are close to each other." She said with a diplomatic expression, then however with a smirk at Robin. "And it certainly explains why the years of trying to get you to date someone were entirely wasted."

"I don't see how that correlates." Robin replied flatly, with a too perfect neutral facade to actually be indifferent, and both younger girls snorted in an instant.

"Oh come on!" Cas was back at grinning widely, but at least she kept her voice down like she'd been asked to. "You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't tell us that you're not totally crushing on him!"

"Ballroom dancing is the most open expression of sexuality the past times had to offer, and you two are honestly the perfect example of it. Quite rude of you though, to lie when we asked you about your crushes on your birthday…" Jorien added in with a smirk and one raised eyebrow that reminded Robin too much of herself. "Because whatever this is between you and him, it's certainly been going on for a lot longer than that."

"I didn't lie." Robin defended herself quietly. She was slowly running out of ideas for how to get out of this situation without anyone taking too much damage in the process. "I never lie. You guys know that."

"I still don't believe you. You're extremely subtle about it, I'll give you that, but you definitely act differently around him than with anybody else I've ever seen you with." Cas stated it as a matter of fact that didn't leave any room for Robin to effectively protest while sticking to the truth. "I don't remotely understand why, and it really is quite weird to think about, but you are definitely attracted to him. Why don't you just admit to what we already know anyway?"

"I do not have a crush, okay?!" Robin's patience was wearing thinner and thinner the more students filed into the room who might overhear the conversation. It was bad enough that her roommates had caught onto matters; she didn't need the rest of the school to know as well. Least of all the person in discussion. "Just leave it be."

"I really don't know why you're being so defensive about it." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "In an odd way it's really kinda cute. You and him, I mean. You're pretty similar to each other. The more I think about it, the more I ship it."

"I don't even want to know what that means, but will you please just shut up about it now?" Robin groaned under her breath and resisted the temptation to rest her face in her hands in despair. That would draw way too much unwanted attention to her now. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"To be honest, I also think you're a good match." Jorien shrugged, but her words were spoken in all honesty no less. "Definitely uncommon, but rather sweet indeed. I've always wondered who on earth might be able to keep up with you, but I guess I've been too blind to see the answer right in front of me."

"I cannot believe you two!" Robin scoffed in sincere discomfort now. Why on earth did they have to torture her like that, after already finding out a secret she'd been hiding perfectly well for over four bloody years?! "You really are being ridiculous, just listen to yourselves. What on earth would he want with me, huh? Remember who you are talking about; it's a miracle that he deems me bearable enough to be my friend in the first place."

"So you do admit to having a crush on him then?"

"Stop. It. Now." Robin hissed at Cas with a glare that made the girl squirm in her seat. "I do not have a crush on anyone, and if you little chits refuse to stop nagging me about it, you will have to find yourselves a new tutor who puts up with your nonsense."

Yes, lashing out at them wasn't really the fairest thing to do, Robin was well aware of that. But she was hurt and annoyed and honestly, they would have forgotten about it by dinnertime already anyway. She just couldn't take any more tinder to the stupid flame of hope that was just roaring back to life now, especially not after last night. She had to trample and suffocate it right in this instant, before she would burn herself and quite possibly drag some collateral right down into the depth of destruction with her. So yes, it was an overreaction to their usual teenage behaviour, but it was a necessary overreaction to keep at least part of her sanity intact.

"I understand." Jorien was the first to speak up for once, and the smile and ease on her face made way for seriousness. "I understand that we were wrong about assuming that you have a crush on him; he's only your best friend, and you don't crush on your best friend. After all, you told us that much on your birthday already, and you don't ever lie."

"Yes! Thank you!" Robin rolled her eyes at her own scoff, but somehow the girl's words only now sunk in when it was too late already.

"Huh… so that's why you never told us who your best friend was. I admit, it all makes an odd amount of sense now that the two pieces become one." Jorien said with a surprised little huff, but Robin only took notice of how her own body became dead weight with a start. Her thoughts were tumbling over each other in panic and confusion and the growing urge to run, while Cas merely frowned at her in confusion. The hall was too warm all of a sudden, and void of air to breathe.

"You tricked me." Robin's lips formed the words without her conscious intention. "If I wasn't quite so furious about it, I would be proud."

"Well, I just put the pieces together." Jorien replied with an almost triumphant half smile. "And it's not like you were ever going to tell us. But I just had to know."

"Of course you did." Robin's voice came out cold and sharp and still somewhat indifferent, for now the pain and anger were gone with a start. She just felt numb, and perhaps a little betrayed. No, actually a lot.

"So… what?" Cas frowned at both of them in confusion. "Who's who now? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sure Jorien will explain it to you. She's got it all figured out now, doesn't she…" Robin replied coldly and tried to get up from the bench at last, to get out of this situation even at the cost of her own lunch, but a surprisingly strong grip held her down. Damn her short legs, really… why on earth did a fifteen year old have to be taller than her?

"Don't go… please, I'm sorry." Jorien said, and at least she sounded sincerely apologetic as she removed her hand from Robin's arms. "I didn't mean to upset you. Really. I just… I had to know if I was right."

Something in Robin deflated at the girl's sad words and pale blue eyes, and she slumped back down in her seat with a sigh. Damn her own empathy… damn the parts of herself she kept seeing in her. She just wanted to be mad in peace, but with Jorien apologising and Cas entirely confused, she found that she could uphold neither the numbness nor the anger.

"Sometimes being right isn't as nice as it seems." Robin finally said, but she didn't look at Jorien even once while doing so. "I'd gladly be wrong sometimes just to spare people the pain of truth."

"I didn't consider that."

"I know. Try to think about the reasons people keep things to themselves the next time you figure out their personal matters." She sighed, and while Jorien nodded, Robin turned to Cas. "And you… perhaps it'll help you to know that I only have and ever had one friend who isn't currently a student here."

"I still don't get it." Cas frowned with a rather helpless expression, and while Robin just sighed in defeat again, Jorien climbed over the still empty table in sheer annoyance, then grabbed her friend by the tie and aggressively whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide. So much for secrets, really… at least she was hissing quietly.

"So…" Cas started, with a weary and yet astonished expression, while Jorien climbed back over the table into her own seat. "You didn't lie after all. You really don't just have a crush on him…"

"I'm not saying a single word more on the matter." Robin shut her straight back down and finally got a grip on her emotions, forcing them all into submission and behind the neutrality. It didn't actually matter that they knew; they had kept quiet about her secrets before, and they would do it again now. They knew better than to mess with her, didn't they?

"You don't have to say anything." Jorien replied with a sigh, as she flopped back down in her seat. "But I think you're wrong if you think that he doesn't feel the same way about you. If he knows it or not."

"Yeah, just take the way he looks at you…" Cas added, while Robin kept on pretending to ignore both of them. "Like you're the answer to the universe's greatest questions nobody but him yet dared to ask."

"Cas! That's an oddly fitting description for the complexity of the issue, I'm thoroughly impressed!" Jorien smiled at her friend with an incredulous frown; obviously Robin wasn't the only one surprised by Cas' sudden string of poetic wisdom.

"Oh, those are Simon's words actually." Cas shrugged easily. "He's said a few times how S-... someone always looks at Robin like that, but I always dismissed it as him trying to be funny. Well, until I saw it for myself today. And he is SO right about it, he'll love that."

"You are not telling Simon about any of this." Robin snapped before she could help it. Damn her fast mouth, honestly, but this was not going anywhere else from here!

"But-..."

"No."

"He's-..."

"No."

"Fine." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then leaned forward onto her arms that she had crossed on the tabletop. "But honestly Robin, you spend every day and night with him, he lets you use his classroom and his lab and he willingly goes on all those weird excursions with you… I doubt that there's anything he wouldn't do for you, now that I think about it."

"You probably have him all wrapped around your finger. You're just too oblivious or too deep in denial to see it." Jorien added with a smirk a mere second later, and Cas nodded in agreement.

"I wish to extend my previous statement: neither of us is losing another word about this from now on!" Robin stated, then motioned towards the entrance. "The boys are finally moving their lazy arses over here, and I officially declare the previous topic to be over and done with for now and the future."

"Fine. For now." Jorien shrugged, then gave Robin another pointed look. "But remember our words, at least: There is literally nothing that man wouldn't do for you, and we all know there is only one reason for that. You don't have to believe us, but at least give the reality around you a chance before burying yourself in all those delusions you hide behind. You aren't the type to let fear control your life, so open your eyes for God's sake!"

Robin glowered at Jorien until Cas kicked her under the table, giving both of them an overly cheerful but obviously feigned smile, which made Robin redirect her scowl indeed. Jorien however just snorted at Cas' expression, then Cas started chuckling as well, and finally Robin couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips either. They were horrible, really, a bunch of bloody dunderheads, but they also were annoyingly supportive sometimes. False hope they were giving her or not, it at least made Robin happy that her friends were trying to help her. And if they were so easily accepting of the subject of her affections, even if he wasn't technically someone they liked much, they really must care about her wellbeing and happiness quite a bit to still push her in that direction. That thought, the fact that they actually cared, was a good enough outcome of the conversation; the rest would do well to stay buried in the shadows where it belonged. Delusions or not.

"Ladies…" Gideon greeted them with a large grin as he sat down on the bench next to Cas, making it quiver even as Simon took a seat on the girl's other side. "Good noon to you all."

"Your good mood is disgusting." Michael grumbled as he took on his usual perch next to Jorien, who greeted him with a mere nod. She still managed to politely maneuver around any and every of his advances without a word, and by now he had mostly given up on it and moved on to try for a casual friendship like he had with everyone else instead. Didn't change the fact that Michael looked positively pissed at Gideon, and glared at him from across the table now. "He's already finished his bloody charms essay and keeps rubbing it in our faces."

"Prideful, are we? How terribly Slytherin of you, especially for a Ravenclaw." Robin smirked at Gideon, and the remainder of the group chuckled in agreement. Yeah, they really were a big bunch of dunderheads. But sometimes, in little moments like this, Robin found that she didn't actually mind being one of them.

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[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Bagginshield Bingo- Soulmate/Ones

First entry for the game! I headcannon Bilbo to be about 14-15 in this in human terms. Remember, if I don’t get any asks, I will choose the next one for tomorrow! I hope you guys enjoy.

Title: The Souls of the Feet

Summary: Hobbits have soulmates and while Bilbo always tried to avoid finding his, it seems that his soulmate found him instead. 

Amongst the scholars and philosophers of Middle Earth, the oldest and, most likely, well worn debate stems from the location of a being’s soul. Depending on which race is being asked, the answer differs greatly. Take the men for example, hardy and hopeful, and they believe that the answer lies in the gut. After all, ‘gut instinct’ must arise from somewhere, and surely food must power both the body and the soul. 

However, if the question is posed to an elf, immortal and elegant, they would argue that the soul must rest in the chest along with the heart and the lungs. All necessary for sustaining life in this world. Loud scoffs would come from the dwarrows, secret and proud, who know that the forging of one's craft is the most soulful experience one can have, and that would be in the large hands Mahal gifted them with.

All are logical arguments and definitely merit consideration. Still, all wrong in the eyes of a hobbit. The poor, simplistic creatures believe the soul resides in their feet. As if their claim was not peculiar enough, they state it as an absolute certainty. The Big Folk just smile and indulge the hobbits with a pat on their head, and it’s this level of cynicism that keeps them from knowing the secret truth of the Shire.

Yavanna, in all her wisdom, granted hobbits the ability of knowing their soul mates. With the feet that touch the earth blessed by the Green Lady, to be touched on the foot ties a string of fate between those two souls. Always feeling, always knowing, exactly where to find their soulmate so long as their feet still walk the earth.

Because of this, the care and attention to their feet was almost sacred. To touch another’s foot with ill intention was seen as downright criminal in the Shire.

Now, accidents happen and it is by the will of Yavanna whether those people pursue a romantic relationship or just remain touched by fate. Bilbo Baggins, a young hobbit of twenty-six, was not about to take the chance. 

He kept mostly to himself and away from the other tweens. More interested in chasing imaginary elves and fairies in the woods as a child, he now took walking holidays across the whole of the Shire spending his free time reading his books and his maps from the treetops. He never saw a problem with his self-instilled isolation. His parents fretted, and his father especially questioned how he was to find his soulmate if he kept to himself? However, Bilbo figured his soulmate would find him when the time was right. 

It was on one such day that Bilbo was lazing in a low branch over the river. Turned facing the trunk, his head was cradled by the leaves and berries. His right foot bent up at the knee, while his left swung freely below. Lost in the inked words of heroes and magic, Bilbo was completely oblivious to his surroundings. So when something brushed against his hanging foot, he sat up nearly dropping his book.

“Excuse me.” A voice called up as the person reached up and grabbed Bilbo’s foot to gain his attention.

Bilbo released a loud shriek as he jumped to his feet backing away. His foot! Someone touched his foot! In such distress, he seemed to have completely forgotten that he was in a tree, and there was really no place for him to go but down. His stomach flew to his throat as he was completely weightless for a small moment. Then he was plunged into the Brandywine.

If there had ever been Stoor blood in his genealogy, it had died out long ago as Bilbo sunk like a rock beneath the current. His lungs and nose burned as he wildly kicked and flailed hoping in vain to reach the surface. His head broke through for only a moment, and he gulped in air while he could.

“HOLD ON!”

Bilbo barely heard the roaring voice before he was plunged back below. His chest ached with desperation, and he was so tempted just to open his mouth and be done with it. Then he collided with something solid. His limbs instinctively wrapped tight in the hope of salvation even as his eyes refused to open.

Honestly, Bilbo wasn’t sure how he got onto the banks. One moment, he was fighting against the rushing waters, and the next he was on his hands and knees. Spluttering, coughing, hacking as water and snot ran down his face. His limbs shook as the fear wore off enough for the exhaustion of his journey to seep in.

“Are you alright?”

There was a warm hand on his back that made Bilbo look up. Blue. He was drowning once more. Numbly words tumbled from his mouth.

“My foot.”

A soft frown touched the being’s face, and Bilbo was able to break away from his eyes long enough to take in the sharp nose, short dark beard, long soft locks to match, and the large hands that were common among Aule’s children. A dwarf? The dwarf looked down at his foot, and Bilbo was now consciously aware of the deep throb resonating through his sole. The dwarf reached down taking his foot in hand, and Bilbo released a gasp.

Sweet Yavanna, he didn’t know that one could feel waves of pure bliss in this way. It was as if the sun had been gone without him even knowing, and he finally was feeling its warmth for the first time. His body went limp, and he turned his head so he could get a good look at his soulmate. His soulmate. He wanted to be annoyed by his method of contact, but he was too mesmerized by the beautiful creature to care about the accidental touching.

He was large. From his broad shoulders to his mannish hands down to his sculpted chest that his wet tunic clung desperately. Wet tunic? Bilbo grinned brightly as he realized it was the dwarf that saved him from the river. His brave, handsome, kind soulmate. If Bilbo weren’t still technically a minor, he would propose right here on the spot.

“Did that hurt?” The dwarf questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Hurt?” Bilbo laughed. “It felt incredible. Here, let me.”

He sat up and reached over for the dwarf’s feet only to stop short at the sight of the dark squared monstrosities hiding his soulmate’s feet. His confusion must have been written on his face because the dwarf spoke up once more.

“You...want me to remove my boots?”

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded, his brow still furrowed.

The dwarf hesitated, but under Bilbo’s putout expression, slowly complied with the request. Bilbo’s jaw dropped aghast to see another layer of wool underneath the dreaded leather beasts. His plight seemed to amuse the dark haired dwarf as he huffed a laugh before removing the woolen socks as well.

Bilbo laughed in incredulous delight. They were so dainty and smooth! He reached out towards one only to hesitate and look up for the dwarf’s permission. His blue eyes tore straight through him as if trying to discern his every possible intention before finally giving a small curious nod.

Bilbo’s touch was revenant, and his heart immediately ached. There was so much pain in his dwarf’s poor soul. The pain of loss brought tears to Bilbo’s eyes. However, there was also a fluttering of hope. It was beautiful and noble and built on limitless dreams of glory and a far off calling of home. Yes, Bilbo’s dwarf was a good one indeed. 

He began to rub the foot exactly as his mother told him in order to soothe the pain. Thorin tensed for a moment before letting go with a sigh. Bilbo smiled, happy to do this one small thing for his sweet soulmate. He didn’t know if it was normal to be this attached, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued to rub until contentment settled into the dwarf’s bones.

“What did you do?” He asked softly when Bilbo finally, reluctantly released him.

“I merely dulled the pain and reminded your soul of better times.” Bilbo answered.

“I didn’t even know I had such aches; long has been my journey.”

“It was the least I could do. I mean...you did save my life.” Bilbo ducked his head shyly.

A large hand reached up and ruffled his curls.

“It was the least I could do, Little One. After all, it was my fault you fell in the first place.”

Bilbo was nearly vibrating with the attention until he caught the dwarf’s pet name.

“Little?! I am practically an adult.” He complained.

The dwarf snorted as he proceeded to cover his feet once more. Something else that caused Bilbo displeasure.

“My nephews would say much the same.”

“You have nephews?” Bilbo jumped eager to know more of his soulmate. “How old are they?”

“Let’s see...the younger one just turned...fifty-two, I believe. Which would make the eldest fifty-seven.”

Bilbo blinked owlishly at the dwarf wondering at the purpose behind this jest, but he did nothing to deny it as he laced his boots back up. As it settled around him, Bilbo came to the realization that the dwarf was being one hundred percent serious. Just how old was his soulmate?!

“And what about you? I would imagine on the frontside of fifty. Forty-seven? Forty-eight?”

“Twenty-six.” Bilbo murmured still reeling from the apparent longevity of dwarves.

The dark haired dwarf’s jaw dropped as his face paled. 

“Twenty...by Mahal! We need to get you back to your parents right away!” 

Bilbo’s face turned crimson as the implication that he was but a young faunt, but then the dwarf took his hand in his, and Bilbo stayed his tongue as he found he enjoyed the sensation. It was incredible to him that dwarves’ hands were so large when their feet were so cute and small. Exactly opposite of a hobbit. It was like Yavanna and Aule planned for them to compliment each other. Bilbo took advantage of the situation and laced their fingers together as he swung the limbs back and forth. The dwarf, Bilbo still had not learned his name, allowed him with an indulgent smile. Wait. Bilbo still did not know his name.

“What’s your name?” He asked immediately seeking the blue orbs for answers.

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain. How about you, Little One?”

Bilbo clearly was not about to lose that nickname anytime soon.

“Bilbo Baggins.” He responded.

“Bilbo.” Thorin repeated fondly.

Bilbo repressed the urge to shiver at how his name sounded in Thorin’s velvety voice. Trying to distract himself from his desire to press closer, Bilbo began to prattle on, telling Thorin all about his home and the Shire in general. He talked about his desires for adventure and his cosy smial. He talked for so long, wanting to share every detail of himself with Thorin that he wasn’t even aware they were home until he walked straight into the gate.

“I suppose this is where I leave you, Little One.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. Leave? Why would Thorin leave?

“I must return to my home now.” Thorin explained in amusement.

Bilbo ducked his head not realizing he had asked his questions aloud.

“Will you come back?” He begged already hating the distance between them.

“I may.” Thorin smirked.

Bilbo’s grin split his face as he leaned up and placed a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Thorin watched completely bewildered.

“Good. Because I have chosen you.”

“Chosen me for what?”

“To be mine.” Bilbo answered honestly.

The dwarf looked confused but still managed to draw a small smile to his face.

“Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.”

“I’ll be waiting! Thorin, son of Thrain!” Bilbo declared waving enthusiastically to the dwarf as he departed down the hill.

Bilbo was able to feel every step he took further and further away from him. It was like a tug on the very soul of his feet. Uncomfortable and strained. It made Bilbo want to run down after the dwarf, and never let him go. However, he could wait. He would become of age soon enough, and then he would chase off into the wilderness after that dwarf. He just didn’t know the wait would be longer than he would ever know. Long enough for him to all but forget about the insistent tug that demanded his attention away from the Shire. However, Bilbo was quickly reminded when for the first time in twenty-five years, the tug eased in its pull indicating his dwarf was finally coming back for him. Now if only he could get this pesky wizard to leave him alone so he could prepare...

[celtics534]

Home

I received a wicked cute prompt and I just couldn’t resist working on it. 

Prompt:  She saw the look in his eyes. It was that of a goodbye. He was going and believed that he was not coming back. They have been one for so long and yet he never took that last step. But she could see it in his eyes. He was going to do it as a final farewell to her. "I lo-" he started but she leapt at him before he could continue, crashing her lips to his, pouring all her feelings and passion into it. "Tell me after you are back." She replied. She has waited all her life for this so she would let his confession to be his first and last time truly show how he felt. He had to live this. He had to live this so they could finally live the life they dreamed of since the very first time they met. Yes, it is a prompt for AU Hinny if you are interested…

I hope you like it anon who sent the prompt!

Background: Muggle AU. Ginny’s in college and Harry is in the army.

Read on: FF.net or AO3

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The hordes of bustling people paid them no mind as they stood there. It was like they were frozen in this spot, trying to hold on to everything they had and would every gain. Every breath ticked like a clock, making them horribly aware of their limited time. 

 Ginny stared at him, trying to memorize every feature. Every laugh line and sun-created freckle. She wanted to remember the shape of his green eyes and how they always seemed to shine brightly around her… for her. 

 It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair! After finally finding each other, he was being taken away from her. But she could never resent him for this, for leaving for something he truly believed in. Harry was a man of honor and bravery, and it was something Ginny admired about him. Yet, it still hurt knowing that after only getting three months together he was leaving.

 They had met in the little cafe off campus where she worked. Waiting tables was just something she did to gain a little money while taking classes at the local university. Harry had walked in, his face flushed from the warm summer sun. Ginny hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. The sharp jawline that went so well with his nose, how his muscles had flexed while he’d bent down to tie his loosened shoelace, and then there had been his eyes. Even to this day, Ginny still was mesmerized by the shade of them. She’d seen plenty of green eyes before, but none the same shade of green as Harry’s. 

Maybe because she had been so distracted by trying to define his eye color was why Ginny had tripped over her own feet and spilled the tea she had been carrying all over the man in question. Thankfully it had been tea of the iced variety (never had she been so thankful for Americans coming to her country), but still it ruined the starch white of his vest. 

 Harry had been easy going about the whole thing, simply dabbing at the stained cloth while Ginny apologized profusely. She had brought as many towels as she could find to help clean him up. “It’s really not bad.” Harry had smiled at her while she began to fuss over the brown spot that just wouldn’t leave. “It’s still a better style than cheetah print.” 

 Even with nervousness boiling belly, Ginny hadn’t been able to resist laughing. “Still, I feel horrible. My shift is over in about five minutes so if you wait I can run to the bank and get you some money for dry cleaning or a new —”

 “Or...” Harry had cut off her rambling with a smile. “How about when you get off you can pay me in the way of your company. I was actually going to be heading to the launderette nearby and I would love to have someone come and wait with me while I wait for my pants to wash.” 

 And that had been the beginning of the end for Ginny. The end of her single life, that is. While sitting in the uncomfortable launderette chairs, she and Harry had chatted like old friends. Like people who had known each other their whole lives. They’d talked about everything and anything. From Harry’s current leave from the SAS to Ginny’s family back in Devon. By the time his clothing was in the dryer, Ginny knew everything she needed to know about Harry James Potter to know she was right to fancy him. His eyes were gorgeous and so was the rest of him. He had a quick wit, kind heart, and a sarcastic sense of humor. All of which Ginny adored just as much as his eyes.  

 She had started to panic slightly when his dryer had stopped. Ginny hadn’t wanted it to end. She’d wanted to stay, chatting with Harry forever. Her mind had begun to buzz with ways to keep their night going, but Harry had simply suggested that they could go get dinner. 

 The dinner had just been a simple walk-in fish and chips place around the block, but it was exactly what Ginny had wanted. They had walked to one of the green spaces near the campus, taking seats on the grass and enjoyed their dinner and company. Ginny couldn’t remember how late they’d stayed out there, but it was long enough for the sky to darken. That had been the first time Harry had kissed her.

 From there, their romance had progressed. Dinners out together, nights snuggling on the sofa while she read her textbooks, staying up late in his bed. And then he’d been told to come back to base. It had been like a record scratching to a stop. 

 That had been two weeks ago. Two weeks of anxiety and worry. For some reason, the fact that he would be called back to active duty never broke through Ginny’s happy little bubble (the bubble that contained just him and her and all their plans). 

  Harry’s fingers came to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face, bring Ginny out of her reverie. “Will you be okay?” 

 Ginny tried to force some levity in her voice. “Of course. It’s not like I actually enjoyed your company, Potter. I just kept you around for the sex.” 

 Harry snorted “Is that so? And here you just wanted me for my sense of humor and charm.” 

 “I mean those were side benefits, but really you’re just a good shag.” 

 A smile curled his lips. “Now, why don’t I —” The cool woman over the loudspeaker made Harry’s cheeky comment falter. 

 “Last call for flight four hundred and twenty to London.”

 To London… then Iran. A hand curled around Ginny’s gut, squeezing tightly. She looked back up at him. There was a look to his eyes, one of fear and determination but also one of… Ginny’s heart started to beat so hard she thought it might crack a rib. He looked like a man who thought he would never get to return. As if he was saying goodbye forever. 

 She’d asked him if he knew where he was going, of course, he’d told her that was classified. But the closer they’d gotten to his flight the more nervous his energy had become. And based on his nerves and the expression on his face now… Ginny could assume it was more dangerous than she’d feared. 

 Her throat seemed to swell, making each breath painful. “Harry?” 

 He merely shook his head and pulled her tightly into his arms. Ginny could feel his body tremble as his pursed lips pressed into her neck. 

 She loved this man. The fact still surprised Ginny. After only a few months Ginny would do anything for this man. Yet, she hadn’t told him. The words I love you had always felt forced and unnecessary to Ginny. She believed in showing someone how much she cared for them, and with Harry showing him was the easiest thing in the world. Yet, at that moment Ginny couldn’t help but think about saying… about hearing those three words. 

 Harry pulled away, his forehead coming to rest on hers. “Ginny, I lo —”

 And just like that Ginny couldn’t bear to hear those words. Not like this. Not when he thought it would be the last time they ever saw each other. Her fingers knotted into his hair as she pulled his face down and connected their lips. 

 She swallowed his surprised nose, letting herself get lost in the feel of him (even if his rucksack and uniform hindered how much she could touch). “Save it for when you come home,” Ginny murmured against his mouth when she pulled away. 

 Harry stared at her, those beautiful green eyes having taken on a dazed looked to them. “Gin?”

 Ginny stood on her tiptoes “Come home to me, Harry.” She whispered the words into his ear before stepping away. Taking a second to compose herself, Ginny straightened his tie. “Tell me when you come back. It will hold until then”

 She could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed, then he nodded. “I’m going to hold you to that.” 

 Ginny smiled warmly at him. “Good.”

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 Ginny tapped her pen on the side of her desk. The library closed in twenty minutes and she still had at least another hour of work on this paper. Why she’d chosen sports medicine as her major was a mystery to her at this moment. She could have done something with a lot fewer bone names to memorize, but of course, she’d never chosen the easy path. 

 Femur fractures are classified depending on: The location of the fracture —

 “Man, that looks like a nasty break.” A deep voice murmured somewhere behind her left ear. Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled around to see… him. Harry. His grin was from ear to ear as he looked at her. 

 Ginny pinched her thigh, trying to wake herself from this glorious dream. Nothing. He was still there. Harry. Her Harry was here, in front of her after being gone for nearly a year. 

 It took a moment for her brain and mouth to reconnect. “Har —”

 Harry cut her off with a hot, heated kiss, before pulling back to meet her eyes. “I love you.” 

 Ginny’s eyes began to sting. She rose quickly out of her chair and hugged him. Hugged him so tightly that she wouldn’t be surprised if she cracked his ribs. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so glad you’ve come home.” 

 “So I’ll take that as you kept your promise.” Harry’s voice was soft and whimsical, but he held her just as tightly as she held him. 

 She couldn’t contain her snort. “Lord help me, I still love you even after all this time.”

 Harry gently pulled away so their eyes met again. God, how she’d missed those eyes. “I knew it wasn’t just for the amazing sex.” 

 Ginny’s beamed at him. “Hmmm, I guess not, but I wouldn’t mind a refresher of what makes you such a splendid shag.”  

 He kissed her again. It was like every kiss was a bottle of Chardonnay, getting her drunker and drunker by the minute. “It will be my pleasure, love.”

[spine-buster]

the storm before the calm (f. andersen) | 1

A/N: The prologue has 150+ notes...I can’t believe what a positive response it got!  Thank you so much for your support, comments, DMs, likes, reblogs, and tags!  It means the world!  Enjoy the first chapter :)

She could be at Early Mercy.

It was all Frederik could think about as he tried to celebrate Bee McTavish’s birthday.  She could be here.  She could be one of these people that keep looking at us, that keep brushing up against Auston and I trying to get our attention.  She could be one of their friends.  She could be in the washroom.  She could be coming, on her way now to Early Mercy, and she might walk through the door and I’ll see her.  It could happen.

That wasn’t to say that Fred wasn’t present and in the moment; having fun with his friends and celebrating Bee and her 24th year of life by buying drink after drink at the bar; but in the back of his mind, constantly, for the last three months – almost four – was the thought that in a random location in Toronto, in a random building, in a random place, he would lock eyes with the girl he’d seen in the middle of the night at Shopper’s Drug Mart and finally find out who she is, why she was crying, and why he was so devastatingly transfixed by her.

Fred had tried to find out who she was since then, almost obsessively so.  He was a man mesmerized and he needed to know.  He had tried to get the name of the band that performed at the function by contacting the heads of the charity, the head of public relations, the human resources manager, the man who answered the 1-800 call desk, even the poor accounts payroll manager whose email was listed on the charity’s website, but nobody would divulge the information.  He wasn’t allowed to know.  They weren’t under the discretion to divulge that information publicly (even though it was a public event).  He contacted the photographer who ended up uploading photos of the night onto his professional website (not one photo of her uploaded – what a load of shit), who expressed he couldn’t remember the name.  He tried remembering the members of his table that he had to schmooze with who could have picked up the name – nothing.  He scoured Instagram – the hashtags, the other girls that were there, the profiles, the tagged photos, the socialites he didn’t socialize with just to see if they had a picture with her or mentioned her by name.  He asked Brendan Shanahan if he knew.  He asked Kyle Dubas if he knew.  He asked every Leaf that was there that night if they caught the name, if they spoke to any of the members, if they took a picture, if it was in the background of another picture, if they remembered any minute detail that would give him a lead.  

Nothing.

His chest has been permanently tightened for almost four months now.  He needed to know.  He needed to find her.

“Serena’s here,” Auston’s voice interrupted Fred’s thoughts as he slammed his empty glass – his fourth of the night, at least – onto the bar beside Fred.  

“Who?”

“Serena – Serena!” he emphasized.  Fred’s face was still blank.  “Serena DaCosta, dude,” Auston said.  “Remember…we were hooking up a while back…”

“Oh.  Right.”

Auston looked at his friend skeptically.  “Dude, come on.”

“What?”

Fred could see the gears shifting in Auston’s head pulling him in two different directions.  Fred wanted to stop him.  Usually when this happened to Auston, it pulled him into conspiracy theory territory.  “Bro…you…you’re not hung up on Bee, are you?”

“NO!” Fred screamed, a look of disgust on his face.  “Jesus fucking Christ, Auston, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?!  You can’t blame me for thinking it!” he tried to defend himself.  “Anytime she’s not in sight you look like someone ran over your dog.”

It’s because I’m looking for somebody.  And I can’t do that when the birthday girl is around.  “You’re a fucking lunatic.  And I know that’s the alcohol talking,” Fred shook his head.

“Then why do you look like someone ran over your dog?!” Auston persisted.  “The city’s hottest girls are in this damn club right now practically lining up to hook up with you and you seem to not give a fuck because of…what?  Hmmm?” Auston waited for an answer dramatically, sticking out his head, raising his eyebrows, and pursing his lips slightly.  “You can’t hate me for wondering.”

“Yes, I can.”

“So what’s the reason, then?”

“There’s no reason,” Fred shook his head again, taking a sip from his drink and hoping Auston would just end it.

But of course, that wasn’t the case.  Auston always had to explore the other side of the gears shifting in his brain – the non-conspiracy theory side.  The side that was – unfortunately – usually right.  “Wait a second…” Auston narrowed his eyes.  “Oh…dude.”

“What?”

“You’re not still hung up on that girl, are you?”

The hairs of Fred’s neck stood on end.  “What girl?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Auston said.  “The girl you’ve been obsessed with the last three months.  From the charity event.  That you haven’t been able to find.”

Fred didn’t mean to hesitate – he really didn’t.  But in his simple hesitation and shaking his head and stuttering out a “N – No,” Auston had him, Auston won, and Auston knew he was right.  

“Brooooooo,” Auston threw his head back in disdain for Fred.  “Let.  It.  GO!”

“Fuck off, Auston.”

“Are you honestly going to be hung up on her for the rest of the year?  For the rest of your life?” Auston kept asking.  “It’s already been three months, Fred.  You couldn’t find her.  You can’t find her.  It’s a lost cause.  You can’t let this dictate your life.  You’ve gotta…you’ve gotta move on.  If it was meant to be you would have found her already, and you haven’t.”

“Thanks, Auston,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, man.  Think about it.  You can’t get hung up on this girl when you don’t even know her name.  There’s so many other things you could be spending your time on, so many other girls you can be paying attention to, that can be paying attention to you, but you can’t even see it!”

Before Auston could continue his lecture, the girl Freddie could only presume to be Serena DaCosta appeared behind Auston.  Her long, wavy blonde hair and plump lips spread into a smile enticed Auston automatically.  “Hey,” Auston smirked.

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy yyyoooouuuuu,” she drawled out flirtingly, giving him an unsolicited and dramatic kiss on the cheek.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a friend’s birthday,” Auston said.

“Anybody I know?” Serena asked.  Fred could see the rest of her group of friends approaching them.  He held his breath.

“No,” he said sharply.  Auston knew better than to mention Bee’s name in front of girls like this, after what happened.  Not that he ever did, though, because Auston was somewhat protective of Bee too and didn’t want these types of girls even knowing about her.  “What are you doing here?”

Serena shrugged her shoulders.  “Just had a feeling that I should be out tonight,” she said, her eyes flashing towards Fred.  “Hey Freddie.”  Fred nodded towards her as he took another sip of his drink.  He didn’t even bother.  When her friends approached them, he clocked out altogether.  Serena got the hint.  “Auston, you remember Jessy and Rachel and Loren?”

“Hey ladies,” Auston winked at them, not remembering them at all.  

“Catch you later,” Fred said quickly into Auston’s ear, attempting to get up from his seat to go and find Bee, Morgan, and Tyler.

Fred saw Auston’s hand come up and hold him down.  “Have you met Loren?”

***

“Are you guys going to take a taxi home?” Bee asked as she clung onto Morgan for dear life.  After dancing the night away at Early Mercy, Fred knew Bee was ready to call it a night.  Auston had tried to convince the manager to keep it open (while Serena hung on his arm, nonetheless), but to no avail.  Special rules couldn’t be made for Auston Matthews.  It was law.  The manager was really sorry.  So everybody decided to call it a night.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks,” Tyler fumbled around with Auston’s phone.  “Our Uber’s just down the street.”  He looked towards Auston, another ping coming from his phone.  “That girl just texted you five times in a row.”

“Of course,” Auston rolled his eyes.

“Am I still sleeping over yours?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not cockblocking am I?”

“Far from it.  If you’re over it gives a legitimate reason for her not to follow us home.”

Tyler’s eyes widened.  “I’ll call the cops if I need to.”

“Freddie?” he heard his name called by Bee’s overly sweet voice.  “Freddie how are you getting home?” she asked as she approached him, clinging onto the material of his shirt.  

“I’m grabbing an Uber with Auston and Tyler,” he said, holding her in place so she wouldn’t fall over.  He loved seeing Bee like this, if only because she was so poised and in control of herself 99% of the time.  He loved seeing her let loose. 

“Are you going home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to be safe?”

Fred giggled at her tone of voice.  “Yes Bee.  I’ll be safe.  I don’t know many people who would jump a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound man.  In an Uber.”

“But you always look so expensive,” she said.  He also loved that Bee had no filter.  “You always dress so nice and wear such expensive things and look put together and I once got told by this lady that people look for people who look rich because --”

“Bee --”

“Because it means they have money and did you know that thieves will actually target people who have sleeve tattoos because it means they have a lot of money if it means they can get all that work done?  So Auston has to be careful too.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh as he saw, in his peripheral vision, their Uber come up along the curb.  Tyler was waving his arms like one of those flag guys on the tarmacs outside of planes.  “I’ll make sure Auston is safe, Bee.”

“Thank you, you big boy.”

“Alright!  Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Tyler yelled from the car.  Fred gave one last ‘Happy Birthday’ and kiss on the cheek to Bee before shoving himself into the backseat (why, oh why didn’t they order an SUV?  His legs were going to cramp so bad), pulling an almost-drunk Auston in with him, and ordering Tyler to take the front seat (it should have been him taking the front seat, because, you know, leg room.  Tyler was 5’9”.  He could fit in the trunk.) so they could get on with it.  

Because they had ordered the Uber from Auston’s phone, the driver was bringing them to Auston’s address.  Fred made sure to tell him right from the get-go that he would need to make two stops.  The driver complied easily.  

“Did you like any of them?” Auston asked as he leaned awkwardly into the middle section of the backseat, looking at Fred with beady eyes.

“Like any of who?” Fred asked.  He overheard Tyler making awkward conversation with the Uber driver from the front seat, telling him his name was Inigo Montoya a la Princess Bride.

“Loren thought you were hot.”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Freddie sighed.  “Auston--”

“Get over her,” Auston said authoritatively.  “She’s not gonna appear out of thin air, Fred.  She’s not just gonna appear in a Starbucks while you’re ordering coffee.  Loren is a real person,” he emphasized.  “With lips, and boobs – nice ones – and--”

“Auston.”

“Will you at least just think about it?” Auston asked.  “I hate seeing you so pissy.  You’re Frederik fucking Andersen dude.  You should be having every God damn girl in this city if you wanted.”

On the one hand, Auston had a point.  Fred hated to admit it, but he did.  Maybe he was too hung up on this.  Maybe he was over-the-top about his search, about his constant thinking about her.  Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, and he was just holding onto a dream that didn’t need holding on to; a dream that needed to stay unfulfilled, undone, incomplete.  Maybe he was trying to force fate – the last thing anybody should do.  

Fred took a deep breath as they felt the car pull up to the curb.  Out the window, Fred could see the façade of Auston’s apartment building.  “I’ll think about it.”

Auston smiled mischievously before winking.  “Atta boy,” he pulled himself up, opening the door to the car.  “Her Instagram is at lorenxoxo.  Thank you kindly, sir,” he directed to the Uber driver, saluting him dramatically.  “Slip into her DMs.”

“Goodnight Auston,” Fred dismissed him.  Fred watched as Tyler and Auston stumbled their way into Auston’s building, getting inside safely.  The car had been quiet from a lack of music, but as he saw Tyler open the door, the opening notes of a guitar riff began to play over the stereo.  

Suddenly, Fred heard the back door opposite his side of the car open, and a body slipped into the backseat beside him, closing the door once they were in.  The first thing he noticed was the abundance of thick, luxurious hair, styled in old Hollywood waves, cascading down the back and side profile, obstructing the view of her face.  Then, he noticed the outfit: a loose, spaghetti strap, silk v-neck top, lazily tucked into tight, seamless black pants, and strappy black heels.  

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” the woman said to the driver.  Her voice was off, somehow, but Fred couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger.  I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, and Fred could hear in her voice that she was crying.

He looked up.

***

Aleida Casillas was crying.  Again.  She felt like she had been crying for months, that her tear ducts were getting their own workout now for how often she used them.  She cried in bed.  She cried in the shower.  She cried in her car.  She cried in her Ubers.  She cried in restaurants.  She cried in restaurant bathrooms.  She cried at her parents’ house.  She cried at her sister’s house.  She cried in her own house.  She cried on her couch.  She cried underneath a blanket.

She cried alone.  

And right now, she needed to get into the privacy of her own home so she could cry there.  But she’d have to cry in the back of an Uber to get there.

As she walked down King Street, she saw an Uber – she knew, thanks to the sticker on the back windshield – pull up and let out two drunken men who scurried into the glass condo building.  She ran towards the car as fast as her heels could carry her before it could drive away.  She opened the backseat door and slipped in, closing it behind her.  

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” Aleida said to the driver.  She could hear the cracks in her own voice and hoped to God the driver didn’t make some sort of comment about it.  She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.  She really didn’t think she could sob any harder at the back of an Uber more so than she had been doing the last few months.  Uber drivers in Toronto probably had her on their radar.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger.  I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, looking down at her feet, her feet in their strappy heels, so she could wipe away her tears before the driver could know she was crying.  She wasn’t really listening to him.  She didn’t really care about what he was saying, truthfully, the other passenger be damned.  Turn it into an UberPool – whatever needed to happen for her to get home.  She’d even pay for the other passenger’s fare.  They could live all the way out in Scarborough.  Mississauga.  Aurora.  Newmarket.  She didn’t care.

“Holy shit.”

She looked up.

***

Fred was going to pass out.  

Her.

It was her.

He was pretty sure that his mouth was gaping open; that he looked like a complete idiot at the other end of the backseat, but his mind couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing fast enough.  The rich, dark brown hair.  The perfectly tanned and contoured skin as smooth and flawless as glass.  The dominant eyebrows that framed her face.  The perfectly cut cheekbones blushed and highlighted.  The lips, full and bow-shaped, painted with a neutral pink instead of the daring red he’d seen so many moons ago.  

Her eyes with their striking hazel irises, were staring directly into his soul.  Again.

She was here.  

In the car.  

Crying again.

“Fred,” his name escaped her lips quietly, the tears immediately stopping.  She was just as shocked as he was, apparently.  Because, really, what were the chances?  To be going home at the same time, to get into the same time…

“It’s you,” he said, not knowing what he was saying.  His brain was still trying to process everything, and it was doing a shit job.  

“It’s me.”

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave the vehic--”

“No no, it’s fine,” Fred said quickly, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror, waving him off.  “Take her to Stewart Street.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Fred said without even looking at him.  Soon, he felt the gear shift into drive and the driver pull away from the curb.

The girl had begun to wipe the tears away from her face delicately, trying to mask her condition.  As if Fred didn’t catch it.  He watched her for a few moments as she stared straight ahead as to not make eye contact with him, not knowing what to say at all.  What could he say?  That he’d been obsessed with her?  That he’d badgered his teammates and strangers about her?  But before he could overthink it, his mind decided to say the one thing that was true.  “I’ve been trying to find you.”

She didn’t bother to look at him, still trying to collect her tears, her emotions.  “You have?  Why?”

He had to be honest.  “Your eyes,” he admitted.  It was at that point that she looked at him again, the hazel irises stabbing him.  “Your eyes are so sad.”

They were both hyperaware of the verb he used.  Are.  Because they definitely were sad then, and they were sad now.  For a moment, however quick it was, there was an acknowledgement on her face; it soon turned to anger – brows furrowed and lips pursed, looking away again.  “That’s none of your business.”

Fred acquiesced.  He knew that.  Maybe that was too forward of him.  “What’s your name, then?  I – I need to know your name.”

She shot him a glance.  Against her better judgement, she answered him.  “Aleida.”

“Aleida what?”

“Aleida.”

“How did you know who I was…am,” he corrected himself.  

Aleida gave him another look.  “Everybody knows who you are, Fred.  Goalie extraordinaire of the Maple Leafs.  Girls in this city would line up outside your bedroom if only you’d let them.”

It was Fred’s turn to give her a look.  That wasn’t true at all.  Well, not to him.  He could still go around some places in the city without getting recognized – especially when he was alone.  He mostly just kept to himself.  When he was with Auston it was a different story, since Auston’s reputation preceded him.  “Why don’t I know who you are?”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough,” she said.

That was a joke.  If she only knew what he had been up to.  If only she knew.  “Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Why do keep asking them?”

“Because I want to know who you are,” Fred hit back, more firmly this time.  Didn’t she get that?  Didn’t she get the reason why the first words out of his mouth were ‘Holy shit’ was because of exactly that?

“Ma’am, we’re here.  Stewart Street,” the driver said from the front seat.  “Wasn’t a log drive.”  He put the car in park and unlocked the doors, the sound dramatically filling the air.

She took once last look at Fred as she opened the door.  “My name is Aleida.  That’s all you will need to know more.”

And then she was gone.

***

Frederik found himself riding the elevator up to the 31st floor of the St. Regis Hotel.  The elevator attendant marveled at his size, trying to hide the fact that he was staring.  The other women in the elevator – four of them – stared too, trying not to giggle to each other.  But Fred could see their eyes.  He could see their eyes dart towards him and then to one another, smirks appearing on their faces, stifled little giggles escaping them as the elevator rushed up.  

When the elevator pinged, and the doors opened, Fred found himself at Louix Louis, the luxurious, gilded bar that had Torontonians salivating at the mouth.  It was the most luxurious of the luxurious.  Lavish.  Opulent.  You name it.  It was everything people loved about indulgence.  Everything people loved about exclusivity; about standing in line and not getting in; about calling for reservations and being denied; about watching people, seeing people, wanting to be seen, waiting to be seen.  

“Hey Fred,” the hostess winked immediately as he approached her podium.  “Auston’s been waiting.”

“Thanks,” he responded shyly as she grabbed a menu from beneath her.

“Follow me, sweetie.”

Fred shook his head and chuckled to himself as she turned her back to him, leading him down the bar and to one of the booths in the back where he could already see Auston waiting.  And of course, like the sky is blue, Auston was wearing a beanie.  He was the only person in Toronto who would wear a beanie in Louix Louis.

“’Bout time,” Auston smiled as Fred shuffled into the opposite side of the booth.  

“Shut up.”

“Serena, Jessy, Rachel, and Loren are on their way,” Auston winked.

“You didn’t,” Fred deadpanned, thinking this was just going to be a quiet night.  He should have known better.  He should have known better to accept an invitation by Auston to go to Louix Louis.  

“Oh, I did,” Auston smiled.  “She’s into you, bro.”

“Who?”

“Loren.”

“Who’s Loren?”

“Oh, fuck off, Fred.”

Fred rolled his eyes.  He couldn’t care less.  He decided to one up Auston; to tell him what he wanted to tell him ever since he agreed to go out with him tonight.  “I found her, by the way.”

“Found who?” Auston sipped at his drink.

“The girl.  Aleida.”

Auston almost spit out his drink.  “What?!”

Fred nodded his head.  “She got into the Uber the night of Bee’s birthday once you and Tyler left.”

“You’re fucking telling me--”

“Aaaaaaustttooooooonnn!” a perky, overzealous voice cut their conversation way too short.  From the opposite end of the bar, where Fred was let in, he saw the same group of girls from Bee’s birthday make their way towards them.  Their designer purses hung on chains against their shoulders as their long hair, perfectly blow-dried at some salon in Yorkville, moved with their scurried movements.  At Louix Louis, you wanted to be seen in the same booth as Auston Matthews.  

“Hey heeeeey,” Auston smiled, scooting over to make room while the four girls entered all on his side.  The girl Fred could only assume was Loren eyed him like a hawk, the waitress approaching the table not long after to get everybody’s drink orders.

Auston exchanged formalities with the ladies as Fred stayed silent, but he could tell that Auston was pressed about the news Fred had just revealed.  For all Auston seemed like he didn’t care about things and was generally aloof, he could be a snoopy bitch.  A really snoopy bitch.  And Fred could tell Auston wanted to talk about it so bad.

Fred thought he would wait.

But he didn’t.  

“Hey girls, can you help me with something?” he preempted quickly.  “Actually, it’s more so helping Fred.”

Fred’s eyes widened.  “N – No--”

“What do you girls know about a girl named Al-ay-da?” he stressed her name – improperly – eyeing Fred quickly.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh my God.”

“Oh my GAWD.”

“Aleida Casillas?!”

“Oh my God, are you joking?” Serena piped up over the other three.  “There is no way Aleida Casillas didn’t bite Fred’s head off if she met him.  That girl is a fucking cannibal.”

“What?  Listen, all I wanna know is the details,” Auston held his hands up innocently.

“What is there to say about Aleida Casillas,” Jessy quipped, and Fred felt like she was going to break out into the Regina George monologue from Mean Girls.  “You know who her mom is, right?” she directed at Auston, but looked between him and Fred.

“No, I obviously don’t.”

“It’s Dr. Casillas – she’s, like, the best plastic surgeon in the city.  The country.”

“Girls who go to her say she does the best work,” Loren contributed.  Fred so desperately wanted to ask if she had gotten anything done for her to say something like that, but he of course decided against it.  “It all looks so natural.”

“And her dad – he’s like, the best cardiologist in the country,” Serena added.  “I’m not exaggerating.  My cousin in med school once watched him perform a quadruple bypass and a ten hour ventricular restoration.  He’s even done heart surgery on a former Prime Minister or whatever.  He’s been honoured for his work all over the world.  It’s insane.”

“Not to mention the family is loaded.  She’s got everything anybody could ever want.  I mean, Aleida thinks she owns the city,” Jessy said.

“Well…she kinda does,” Rachel said something besides oh my God.  “She’s got all the money in the world, she knows everybody worth knowing, but like, she’s friends with them too, and people want her to wear their clothes or whatever, or come to their bars, or attend their charity events.  I mean, it’s mainly because of who her parents are, but still.  She sings, sometimes, I think, but I think mostly she just shows up places--”

“--she’s a model--”

“—she’s a model, and she’s pretty, and people are, like, scared of her, because I heard one time she, like, ruined the career of some up-and-coming influencer – or was it a designer? – but she ruined his career cause that person, like, didn’t dress one of her friends for an event or something and she went ballistic.”

“She’s a cannibal, like I said,” Serena said assertively.  “She’s a huge bitch.  Why would you want to know anything about her?”

Fred was shocked, to say the least.  The person he’d met – if you could even call it that – in the Shopper’s Drug Mart that night, and the person he’d seen in the backseat of the Uber could not have been the same person.  There was no way.  There was no way that crying girl was a ‘cannibal’.  There was no way.  The family stuff could be true, sure – who was he to question that – but the other stuff?  Ruining a career?  Impossible.  It wasn’t that Fred thought they were lying.  But maybe…maybe they had the wrong girl.  How many girls could be named Aleida?  Maybe they were…embellishing.

“Yeah.  Why would you want to know anything about her?” Loren asked, eyeing Fred like a hawk again.

Fred tried not to make it seem like he was physically uncomfortable every time she looked at him, but he was getting physically uncomfortable.  “She just performed at an event we went to,” Fred explained briefly.  

“I wouldn’t even think of like, doing anything,” Serena took charge again.  “She’ll rip your head off.”

Well Fred knew where she stood.

“Enough about Aleida,” Auston held his hands up again, looking past everybody at the waitress that was bringing their drinks to the table.  “What are we up to tonight?” he smirked.

Fred clocked out.  He didn’t care about anything that was being done or said around him – he didn’t care what those girls were saying at all.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t care.  

Casillas.

Her last name was Casillas.

He got up abruptly, asking a passing waiter where the washrooms were.  Auston was too entranced by the girls to care, so Fred had no qualms leaving.  As he made his way towards the washrooms, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  He typed out her name into the Google search bar .  ‘Aleda Casiyas’

‘Do you mean Aleida Casillas?’

Well fine then.  

There she was on his phone screen.  It wasn’t like she had a Wikipedia page or anything, but perhaps even more important, especially in this city, was that she had her own tag on the Toronto Life website.  The Narcity tag was there too, but that wasn’t as important.  He clicked on the Toronto Life link.  

Aleida Casillas, wearing vintage Jean Paul Gaultier, at Soho House, Toronto.

What Aleida Casillas wore to the premier of Guillermo Del Toro’s new film.

Aleida Casillas is the face for emerging Toronto fashion designer Guinevere Jones.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him.  “Loren’s barely turned 18.”

Fred spun around dramatically.  

There she was behind him.  

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes.  Almost.  But if she could sneak into the backseat of his Uber, she could appear at Louix Louis.  She could appear anywhere.  And of course, she looked flawless.  Makeup flawless, hair flawless, all of it.  If she really was a model, he could see why.  “What are you doing here?” Fred asked.

“Who isn’t at Louix Louis on a Friday night?” she countered.  

Fred’s head whipped back and forth between the direction of the booth and Aleida standing in front of him.  He was willing to ditch this entire scene.  “Are you ready to talk?”

“About what?”

“Why you were crying in a Shopper’s Drug Mart at two in the morning four months ago,” Fred deadpanned.  “And why you were crying before you stole an Uber?”

Aleida’s face dropped.  Whatever confidence she had in her power and persuasion over Fred left her and was replaced with something else – that something else, Fred didn’t know yet.  But it wasn’t confidence, and it wasn’t self-assurance, and it sure wasn’t was the cheekiness she’d displayed in any and all interaction she’d had with him (however brief) up until this point.  “You don’t want to get into it,” she said, her voice soft.  And for the first time, emotional.

“I do.”

She looked at him.  “Fred.”

“Can we get out of here?”

Aleida took a deep breath.  She tugged on the hem of his shirt as she started walking away.  

He followed her.

She made an abrupt stop at the booth.  When Auston saw her, he didn’t think anything of it, but when he saw Fred behind her, his eyes went wide.  All the girls stopped talking and looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of them. 

“Ohmigod Aleida, hi,” Serena said first.  

Aleida smiled at her, but it wasn’t politely.  She focused her attention back to Auston.  “I’m taking Fred.”  She didn’t give him an option.

“Th-that’s cool,” he couldn’t say anything else to her.  

Aleida looked back at the girls, specifically Serena.  “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Serena’s jaw almost dropped from embarrassment.  It was clear to Fred that despite calling her a cannibal a mere ten minutes ago, Serena would butter herself up if it meant Aleida would eat her.  “It’s…it’s me!  Serena Da Costa.”

Aleida’s eyes flashed.  “Oh!  Right!  From my mom’s clinic!” she exclaimed, her surprise feigned and her polite tone just as fake.  She pointed at Serena.  “You came in with…” she went through the girls with her pointed finger, stopping on Loren.  “You!  How was your eighteenth birthday in June?  Looks like your parents allowed you to get the boobs you wanted.”

Loren looked absolutely mortified.  “I--”

“And your new lips,” Aleida focused on Serena again.  “Isn’t my mom just so great?”

Now Serena looked absolutely mortified.  But it was Auston who looked ready to crawl into a hole and die since she mentioned the eighteenth birthday party.  “Uh--”

“Anyways, see you guys later.  I’m sure one of you will want a nose job soon,” she winked at the group before walking off.

***

“So why were you crying?”

Fred was on Aleida’s couch now, after having followed her home by foot, walking for half an hour.  Half an hour along King Street West, illuminated lights and flashing storefronts lighting the way.  Eager clubbers spilling onto the streets tried to do their part to distract Fred or block him from following, but he was like a man possessed.  His eyes were like a hawk’s on her.  There was no way he was losing her again in a crowd full of people on King Street.

They passed the Shopper’s Drug Mart.  

It was when they happened upon a row of expansive, luxurious, modern townhomes, coincidentally just a few blocks from his building that Fred began to realize that maybe the things those girls were saying were right, or at least partly true.  But the other thing he realized made him want to scream.  He had searched for her for months and she was practically just a few steps away from him?  He understood the universe worked in mysterious ways, but this was just plain cruel.  That she had been so close to him, physically, and he had no idea.  It tore him up.  

They’d gone inside.  She took off her heels.  She’d opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses before standing at opposites ends of her expansive kitchen island, staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak.  It was Fred who obviously broke first.  It was Fred who couldn’t wait any longer; who wanted to get to the bottom of why her eyes were – are – so sad that night, and in the Uber, and tonight.  Because behind her façade, he could see her sadness.  Behind the snarky comments she made towards those girls with Auston, Aleida Casillas was profoundly sad.  

She took a deep breath.  “My uh…my old piano instructor – from when I was a kid – she passed away earlier that day,” Aleida revealed, her voice low.

“Were you close?”

“I think I loved her more than I loved my parents when I was a kid.”

Fred was shocked to hear such a statement come out of her mouth.  Considering that he just learned who her parents were, it was…different for him to hear such a thing.  “Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “She listened,” she said simply.  “No-one ever listens.  No-one ever…no-one ever listens.  To me.  But she did.  She listened.  More than anyone.  And she saw me."

“She saw you?”

“She saw me for who I was and not what she wanted me to be,” Aleida continued.  “She was the best.”

There was a moment of silence between them.  Fred was unsure of what to say.  He knew he wanted her to open up to him, but he wasn’t expecting…this.  Truthfully, he was expecting something completely different.  A breakup with a boyfriend, or at least a fight.  A disagreement with a friend.  A lost job opportunity or a firing.  But not a death of a childhood piano teacher.  “I just couldn’t get over your eyes – the sadness in your eyes.  And it’s still there.”

“Listen.  I don’t know what those girls told you about me tonight.  And I didn’t mean to make you scared that night when I called you Fred and knew who you were.  I just…you made it obvious that you didn’t see me in there.  Nobody did.  And that was a stark reminder to me of her being gone.  Anyway…there…there’s a lot going on right now, and nobody cares.”

He could tell she knew she was rambling; that she stopped herself from revealing too much.  He persisted.  “Nobody cares?”

“Nobody fucking cares,” she stressed before taking a long sip of wine.

“Well, can you tell me a bit about yourself?” he asked.  Her eyes flashed at him, her brows furrowing.  “So I can get to know you?  So I can care?”

“I’m sure those girls told you enough about me,” she commented.  “Whatever people say I am, I am.  Isn’t that how all this works?”

“No, and you know that,” he said.  “You apparently know all this information about me and about those girls with Auston, but why don’t I know anything about you?  Just be honest.”

“Well what’d those girls say about me?”

He paused before taking a deep breath.  “Cannibal.”

“Cannibal?”

“Serena said you were a cannibal.  Your parents – doctors.  Your family – loaded.  All the money in the world.  That you’re a model.  A bitch.  That you ruined someone’s career because they wouldn’t dress your friend for an event,” he listed off.

Aleida’s eyes narrowed at the last bit.  Her tone was as assertive as the click of her heels on the sidewalk on the way here.  “That designer attempted to sexually assault one of my best friends, so you’re damn right I ruined his career.  And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

So she was misunderstood.  Or at least her life was.  Fred still didn’t know.  “But what’s the truth?”

“Isn’t there a bit of truth in everything?” she asked rhetorically.  

“You tell me.”

Aleida couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.  “Everything they told you about me is true.  Doctor parents.  Loaded.  All the money in the world.  A bitch.  A cannibal.”

“Yet you cry about your piano teacher dying,” he commented.  Her eyes shot daggers at him at his comment.  For a second, he was sure he was going to die right then and there.  “You’re hiding behind this tough exterior and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude but I think you care more than anyone.”

“Don’t you ever use that against me ever again,” she snapped back at him.  “I do fucking care, okay?  Everybody fucking cares, and if they say they don’t they’re liars.  That’s why Serena was practically salivating at the mouth when she saw me and couldn’t handle it when I pretended not to know who she was.  She’ll call me a cannibal but if I’m the shark she’s that fish that attaches itself and sucks the bacteria off my body.”  Her tone was so scathing, Fred had never heard anything like it.  She paused.  “You want to know the truth?  Here’s your truth.  I’m Cuban-Canadian.  My dad is one of the best cardiologists in the entire world and my mother is the best plastic surgeon in the country.  I’ve got an older sister named Alejandra who’s a plastic surgeon too.  I grew up in Rosedale.  I went to private school.  I received the best education.  I have millions and millions of dollars at my disposal whenever I want it and get to spend it however I want it.  People ask me to model their clothes, to go to their events, to say nice things about them.  They want me to sing and play piano and give this air that their event is high-end and exclusive and luxurious just because I’m there – because my presence apparently means something to a lot of people in the city.  And every single one of those people – my dad, mom, sister, her husband, everybody who wants something from me – they look at me, all the time, but they don’t see me.  And for once in my life…for once in my life, I just want to be seen.”

Fred listened.  It was all he could do as she went into her speech.  There were no words of comfort that could be said to her, no grand gestures that could be done to make her feel better.  He barely knew her – really.  He barely knew her.  He only felt a connection to her; to her and her sad eyes, to her tears, to the image of her cathartic crying at two in the morning in a drugstore neither of them had any business of being in at that hour.  

So instead, he stared at her.  He nodded his head in understanding.  Because he did understand, to some extent – how people in their lives look but they never really see.  It was something that bound them together.  In the vast city of Toronto, from the bright lights of King Street West to the luxurious décor of Louix Louis, to the couch they found themselves sitting on sipping on an expensive wine, it connected them.

He took a deep breath.  “So you play piano then?  And you sing?” he asked.  Aleida nodded her head.  He couldn’t read her emotion as she took another sip of wine.  “Can I hear or see you play sometime?”

“No.”

Fred nodded.  It would take a while for her to open up more.  To show him more of herself, to let her guard and her attitude down.  For her to allow him to see her.

But he’d be there for it.

[haelieana]

TL : Leah

PR : Xeven_

Chapter 2

"Oh my, Luen, this is......"

"You have nice skin, so I enjoyed doing your makeup and the dress looks good on you. The Duke will surely fall in love again."

"The rumor has spread to the lady's on society that the Duke adores you. I envy you."

I don't know if I'm in a good mood, or if you want to make me feel good. Whoosh, I smiled. On the other hand, I was in tears because I couldn't control my facial expression.

As they were in a fuss, I couldn't understand how the Duke treated me like gold or jade, or like I was going to fly when the wind blew.

Pr: She means that the Duke saw her to be a person that should be treated delicately since weak things (like paper) get caught easily on the wind.

"God blessed us, the weather is wonderful today."

"God blessed us, the weather is wonderful today."

The scent of flowers was applied to my body. Thanks to the maid's deft make-up and my figure in a smooth silk dress wrapped around my body were distinctly different from usual. One maid turned her head up for the last time.

"Luen, we're going to leave now."

"You're going to be busy all day today, so take a break."

"If you need anything, feel free to call us."

When the girls, who chatted and filled the empty air, went out, the room became quieter. Like my complicated inner self.

I could have made a fuss looking at myself in the mirror, but I got depressed thinking about the future.

Sfx : *knock 2×*

-I know it's an excuse, but I haven't been able to hold back my curiosity.

He came in like he was waiting for me to be left alone. When I said ‘come’ in a weak voice, the door opened. I wasn't willing to get close to a man I wish I had just watched from afar.

"I’m blessed by the most beautiful bride in the world."

Yes, today was my wedding day. I want to flee to save my life, and I'm also about to be dragged to the wedding hall by the Duke of Piar.

'Oh my life, what can I do?'

In addition, I am now in a situation where I can live for a few years. Just in case he leads a rebellion.

Flop

Something fell off with a small noise. When I turned my head looking out of the window, there was a bouquet of flowers that were white at his feet. I rolled my eyes and walked to the Duke. It was a hideous white color.

"It's the same as usual, but you're even more beautiful today. It was because of you that the daffodils in the garden bowed their heads."

It was dazzling to wear a tailcoat with dizzyingly long, well-drawn legs. As the smile fell on his normally blunt impression, it became as soft as cotton candy that would melt when touched. Looking at the groom who is more handsome than anyone else in the world, I recalled the moment when he asked to marry me.

What the hell happened then.

**********

"You don't have to call the doctors to check....."

I trembled and managed to bring it up. There might still be a chance to escape. Even if it was not a hundred percent, I wanted to see if there was a little possibility.

Even now, I tried to call a doctor to prove that I was a false pregnancy. His attitude was unusual, I need to be kicked out of the dukes faster.

"Hmm? What are you talking about?"

Just as I was out of the Duke's arms, his sweet voice came as if honey were dripping.

"Confirmation. I don't give you that much faith."

"No, I didn't mean it"

"I can't doubt the fruits of our love, my Luen."

It was frustrating for me to see such a cold-headed, calculating man who made a name for himself like a clumsy insipid.

"There's no way you're lying to me."

Seeing him smiling with a harmless face with the theme of the dark duke made my stomach ache. Why would the bad guy feel guilty about me?

He leads the soldiers to the palace without hesitation and faces Yeoju.

-Don't do this. What's wrong with you all of a sudden?

-I'll take you.....

In the end, he wishes for the queen's happiness and chooses to give up on herself. She can't even tell him how she felt. The Duke was captured alive as it was.

'I'm sorry but I want to live.'

I had to stay away from the duke to do that. If I'll Stay with the duke, I'll die with him.

While I was mesmerized for a moment and got my act together, he began to make a formidable statement.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I was going to tell you after a little more preparation."

After letting me go, the Duke stepped back a few steps and seriously looked up at one knee.

Don't tell me.....?

"Luen."

His eyes were somehow moist. It was somehow strange to see water added to the face that exuded sexiness.

But I can't. No! No matter how handsome you are, this isn't right.

"I've been dreaming of this moment since the day I first saw you."

The Duke took a small box out of his arms, perhaps carrying it all the time to carry it. Inside the softly opened box, was a brilliant shining ring.

My heart sank. That sparkle is never for me.

Why are you here if it's me? What are they thinking about doing this to me, not the original Yeoju?

I wondered if the ridiculous situation would continue.

"Luen."

As close as I stepped back, the Duke came. And as soon as my name came out between his lips, all thoughts disappeared. I couldn't even wriggle as if my limbs were tied to what I couldn't see.

I felt strange for some reason. His eyes were so sweet that I felt possessed. I had to get my act together, but I was constantly persuaded by what he said.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you please accept my proposal?"

He held out the ring to me. I saw it closely and it was a ring that I knew. A large diamond shone even more through delicate work. In the original novel, the ring was prepared by the Duke of Piar to present with a desperate confession to Yeoju.

"Ha, haha"

I mean, smiling with a weird face.

There was nothing I could do. Every minute and second went too slowly and the confrontation continued.

'Shall I die now, or live a little longer?'

That is the problem.

I tried my best, but there was no answer. I was brought to this world without knowing the subject, so I thought I would adjust to it, but I can't walk on the flowery path, but I can't believe it's a Death Flag. I felt sorry for my situation, so I shed tears without realizing it.

"Luen."

The Duke came darting up and watched me. The maids say it's necrophilia.

I don't know why you keep hugging me when you give me away.

"Are you that thrilled? Don't shed tears."

"........."

"When you cry, I want to cry even more. So smile."

Soon, an eerie word and a ring were pushed in front of me at the same time. I tried to ignore it, but the pressure was getting stronger little by little. Somehow, it felt like a prey standing in front of a snake flicking its tongue just before it hit its prey.

'Let's move on from this moment on.'

Reluctantly, I reached out slowly and accepted the ring. The Duke quickly faced me in a gentle manner. He grinned as hard as he could, saying I was more beautiful than flowers.

'Things finer than flowers are peacocks.'

The game was over because he was caught up in it.

********

"Father, Shall we start?"

I didn't expect the Duke of Piar to make a sick face. He blinked slowly, perhaps because he felt my stare.

"It's something I've been dreaming about. Please excuse me."

Now there was no energy to refute or think what the hell was wrong with him. I gently placed my hand on the Duke's arm. We'll head to the ceremony. If you hold a ceremony in front of many people, you won't be able to skip it. But it wasn't without a way.

I tried to sigh, but suddenly I felt so quiet that I couldn't even hear the sound of breathing. As I looked up, the Duke of Piar's expression was unusual.

'Did you notice the idea of getting divorced and running away?'

I read other people's thoughts so well that I thought I might be a mind reader, I quickly noticed. His hands flinched to come up suddenly and closed his eyes.

".... My bride"

There was a strangely hot heat in his voice. Likewise, the heat from his hand to me. I was standing breathless because of the sudden act of sweeping my hair behind my ears.

"Wha, what."

A long, straight finger touched my ear. His fingertips kept hovering around my ears and it tickled. I couldn't help but open my body slightly and heard a small laugh above my head. It was clearly a different breath from a while ago.

My heart went up and thumped. What if this tension reaches him? I almost drooled and fell over.

"Are you nervous?"

Without hesitation, he came in nodding his head again. My nose was on his chest, which filled my vision. I also wanted to feel his trembling. He took a breath as I clung to him.

Having been holding me for a long time, he kissed me on the top of the head and said.

"Thank you so much for coming to me. I want to raise our children better than anyone else."

Oh, that's not it! But the protest only lingered in me.

Compelled again to look at my stomach, I picked up a word and spat it out.

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

"Even heaven rejoices in our union. Shall we go now?"

I was relieved by the duke who accepted my words without much doubt. I put my hand on his arm again.

"Ah!"

He grabbed my careless hand.

"It's against etiquette, but I want to go hand in hand. Will you allow me?"

His hand, one bigger than mine, wraps around mine. The end of my glove didn't come out in the air as if it wasn't to be seen in the world. My heart trembled strangely.

"Yes, it's okay."

I followed him with heavy steps to keep pace. It was also a sign that my relationship with him began in earnest.

*********

"The virtues of the couple cannot be overemphasized......"

Does everyone talk longer when they stand there? A yawn threatened to come out during the sagging officiant's speech, but I held it in. The high heels made my ankle sore and my head felt heavy because of the jeweled veil, but I couldn't show.

"I, Christian Noah, have a good day ahead of me. Lu........"

The person who keeps saying the same thing in front of me is the emperor, the lord of the original work and the ruler of the empire. The position is the end goal of the duke’s rebellion.

'That's the way it works!'

Suddenly, I rolled my eyes hard at the brilliant idea. It was a novel and ingenious idea, I think, as if lightning had flared up.

In the original book, Yeoju was a maid of the Imperial Palace. A princess of the fallen Kingdom of Lauren, she sneaked into the palace for revenge. And soon she got acquainted with the Duke of Piar.

Watching her but also wanting to protect her, somehow, the Duke fell in love with her. Eventually, Yeoju falls in love with the emperor.

'Yeoju must be somewhere.'

At this point, Yeoju would be trying to approach the emperor with a sword for revenge. Of course, he would have come here to officiate with Emperor Napsin.

A little earlier than the original, Yeoju. I had to let her meet the Duke of Piar.

'Then he'll fall in love on his own. That's the flow of the original.'

I was planning to live as a duchess and cheer for the love of the duke and the female lead. After that, it was pleasant to think of the day when I left after finishing my false marriage. It became more refreshing as the emperor's officiant seemed to be coming to an end.

"Lastly, let me ask you if there is anyone who opposes the marriage of these two people God has allowed."

Even I, the person involved, don't approve of marriage, but who allowed it?

'I'm against this marriage.'

I was sarcastic inside.

"I'm against this marriage!"

A roaring voice rang out.

[biribirichan1]

We’ll find a way

A million memories flood through Ichigo as he witnesses Rukia, radiant in her royal regalia - ascending the steps to the high priest waiting to crown her as the first reigning queen of their nation. Queen Rukia. His heart felt like it would burst from pride - she had worked so hard to overturn the rules that said that only male heirs could be in line for the thrown. Even as a child, that’s what she’d aspired to. “Just you watch Ichigo, I’ll be Queen one day,” - with her arms held out to the sky, and her eyes sparkling with the ferocity that he loved so dearly.

Ichigo clutched his heart. “Don’t think about her eyes, you fool. You’ll never make it through this.” He knew that his heart was not just bursting, it was also slowly breaking, because he knew today marked the day when they had to part their ways. He’d known for so long that this day would come, had steeled his heart for it - so why did it still hurt so bad? It’s not like he hadn’t been warned. By his dad, by his friends, by anyone who knew. But call it fate, call it being soul mates, there was no keeping them apart. Ichigo had tried. Really he had. The first time he and Rukia had been caught kissing, his dad had given him the scolding of a life time. “We in the Shiba clan exist solely to guard the Kuchiki royalty, not to fall in love with them!” Isshin had roared. “She’s a princess, Ichigo! One day, she’ll be married into other royalty. You’re just looking to get your heart broken, son.”

After that, he had managed to avoid Rukia for a week. A mere week - until the red string of fate crashed them together. He smiled wryly thinking that rather than it being the string of fate, it was Rukia who had crashed him to the wall and kissed him senseless.

“Rukia, we’ll end up like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I don’t care,” she shot back, defiance in every fiber of her being. “Now, shut up and kiss me back.” And Ichigo had shut up and kissed her. He had never been able to say no to her anyways.

As the days turned to months, and the months turned to years, and Rukia successfully avoided all her suitors, Ichigo had started to get optimistic - perhaps, just perhaps, by some stroke of fate, they could be together.

That illusion didn’t last very long. Rukia’s determination and her magnetic personality really got people’s attention in court. Combined with her success on the battlefield, she had become immensely popular. Ichigo had long known it in his heart, but Rukia was born to be a Queen to her people. So it was no surprise to Ichigo, when without his own heir, her ailing older brother, King Byakuya, made Rukia his successor, defying hundreds of years of tradition. When Rukia told him, he had been so happy. He had picked her up and spun her around in the garden they were in and kept saying, “I always knew.” Rukia however, in response had burst into tears - one the few times in his life that he had actually seen her cry.

“Rukia, love, what’s wrong? You’ll be the first Queen of the land. You’re making history. You should be so proud!”

Rukia didn’t say a word. She had just wept, and held him close. Ichigo found out the reason for her tears from his father. “She has to choose her husband within a year of her coronation.”

As Ichigo had ranted and raged, his father laid a hand on his shoulder and told him, “His Highness broke all the rules to make Rukia the next queen. It’s just not possible for one person to alter so much at once.”

And so the race towards coronation began. King Byakuya had wanted to hand off the crown before he passed away to ensure a smooth transition. Their country was at a delicate stage with war brewing on the south borders, so it was essential to keep the morale high. It seemed to Ichigo that all the old advisors planned to incorporate the hunt for Rukia’s husband as part of the morale boosting activities.

“Should we really be having such lavish parties with His Highness in such a state and a brewing war?” Ichigo had complained to Rukia one night.

Rukia just flashed him her enigmatic smile, and said “Looks like someone is jealous.”

“Can you blame me. That pompous ass had his hands all over you while danci-” his words were cut off by a passionate kiss from Rukia. “Ichigo, you know I have eyes only for you, right?”

Night after that, all of Ichigo’s protests were drowned by her kisses and assurances of “Trust me” and “I love you” and “We’ll find a way.” Ichigo knew he was just fooling himself, but how could he say no to her, when all he knew was just to be with her? To love her? To never let her go? So he let himself be fooled and allowed himself to love her as long as he possibly could. And so the days kept going much like before, until it was finally the night before the coronation, and he knew he couldn’t continue this farce any longer. The advisors had finally picked a suitable man in his eyes. Ichigo had scrutinized Prince Renji for days, and couldn’t really find any major faults with him. He knew Rukia would be happy eventually, if she allowed herself to be. After all, she was getting to live out her life long ambition. He was just getting ready to go to her garden, where they usually met, and bid her farewell on his own terms. It was already getting harder and harder for them to meet in secret after she was named King Byakuya’s successor. He knew it would be almost impossible to meet alone after she was crowned Queen.

As he got ready to go, he heard a knock at his door, before a crying Rukia stumbled in and into his arms. “Rukia, what are you doing here?”

“Ichigo, Ichigo”. She kept crying his name and holding him like there was no tomorrow.

“Rukia, what are you doing - we can’t keep doing this! Your coronation is tomorrow -” Suddenly Ichigo felt his heart shatter. Rukia’s tears, her desperation, all clicked into place with such a painful clarity. It’s tomorrow, his heart thundered. It’s tomorrow. All this time, he had been thinking that he would bid her farewell today without really understanding what that meant. His heart had numbed him to his true circumstances. To his reality. But finally with Rukia in his arms, his heart had awakened.

He stopped fighting her, and poured his heart and all his love into her, hoping, wishing it would stay with her for her entire lifetime. Even if he was no longer there. Because today was all he had with her. There was no tomorrow. After tomorrow, all he would have would be his inner demons with her smiles, and the memories of the time they spent loving each other. 

Later as they held each other, Ichigo had tried to say how much he loved her. Had tried to say goodbye. Each time, Rukia had chased his farewells away with her kisses. She didn’t want them. So he resigned himself to just holding her and loving her until the first rays of dawn spilled across the bed they shared.

Rukia was the first to get up. As she pulled on her clothes, and got ready to leave, her mask was back on. She looked at him and asked, “Ichigo, you had once said that you’d leave the Shiba clan as soon as I got crowned. Is that still what you plan to do?”

Ichigo looked at her. “Rukia - I.” He hung his head. “You know I’ll always love you, and cheer for you and pray for your success. But I don’t think I could see you be married to someone else day in and day out. I just couldn’t. It’d kill me, Rukia.”

“I see. Very well then.” And before Ichigo could even say anything, she was gone. Gone from his arms, from his room, and out of his life forever. “Goodbye, Rukia.”

The tears wouldn’t stop anymore. Ichigo looked at his beautiful Rukia, radiant with the crown over her head. “Long live the Queen,” the jubilant crowd shouted. “Long live Queen Rukia!”

Rukia beamed at the crowd in front of her, and raised a hand for silence. “Today we have made history,” she roared. “To anyone who thinks that a woman is any less than a man, take note. The heavens have spoken and the people have spoken. I, Rukia, am proud to take up the crown today, and serve as your very first Queen.”

The roar was deafening. Ichigo looked around to see some of female spectators clapping with tears in their eyes, some waving their handkerchiefs, and some cheering with their fists raised. Rukia’s special squad of female warriors, Division 13, had their swords and spears high up in the air and kept chanting Rukia’s name again and again and again. He couldn’t have been prouder. He knew that Rukia had the whole country mesmerized by her charisma, just as she had him in her spell for all these years. “Look at how far you’ve come, love.” Ichigo breathed.

Rukia raised her arms again for silence. “As you all know, we are passing through a turbulent time. War is brewing on the southern border, and the lack of rains has our farmers in a dire crisis. It is exactly because the times are so pressing that I will need all your support and dedication. Together we will push this country to peace and prosperity once again!” More cheering erupted.

Rukia paused for a bit, and then started again, but in a slightly somber voice. “Though I will warn all of you - the road to prosperity is not easy and requires many sacrifices, changing of old mindsets and new ways of thinking. There are many places in which centuries old tradition have safeguarded our peace and happiness, but there are also places where it has held us back. Kings before me have promised to uphold tradition and honour in their coronation speech, but as you can see I’m a little different.” Rukia gestured to her dress.

The crowd roared with laughter, and Ichigo amused himself by seeing the sour expressions on the members of the royal advisory panel. Trust Rukia to use humour in her coronation speech and piss off those old farts. No one other that that daredevil could have the guts to pull that off.

Rukia continued, “So today, as your Queen, instead of promising to uphold tradition, what I promise to uphold are my people’s happiness and this country’s prosperity. Help me make that a reality everyone. Work with me!”

The crowd went crazy. Never before had a royalty asked to work with the common public. Never had they put the happiness of the people before the country’s traditions. “Rukia, you were born to a Queen. You’ll be amazing.” As he started walking away from the crowd, and out of Rukia’s life, he just wished he could have cheered for her success from right beside her than being just another spectator in the crowd. “Be happy, my love.”

...

“What do you mean, my application to quit got rejected?” Ichigo yelled at his father, who also happened to be his superior as the head of the Shiba clan).

“Here, you can see it for yourself. It has Queen Rukia’s seal and everything.” Isshin grinned.

“Dad - this is not funny. Who does that? I’ve never heard of a royal guard’s application being rejected! This is so ridiculously petty - even by her standards.”

“Ichigo - my boy. Calm down.” Isshin dropped his voice, “You’re one lucky bastard. Haven’t you heard? Rukia got into a lot of trouble after her coronation.”

Panic flooded his heart. “What do you mean, dad?”

“What I mean, you silly son, is who do you think all that breaking tradition in her coronation speech was aimed at? Shortly after she was crowned Queen, she broke off the engagement with Prince Renji too.”

“She WHAT?!” Ichigo sat down on the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. “Dad, I’m so confused. I let her go. I said goodbye. Why is she jeopardizing herself for me?” Ichigo knew how twisted court politics was, and felt nothing but fear for Rukia.

Isshin sighed, “Did Her Highness ever say goodbye to you, Ichigo? She told me she intended to fight for you with everything she had, son.”

“But the advisors, the generals - she’ll lose support in court. Dad, you know how it is...” Ichigo trailed off.

“Well, be thankful that your girlfriend has got quite the super powers. The generals can’t win the war without her, the advisors can’t win against her popularity. She’s been playing her cards magnificently.”

Patting his son on the back, Isshin continued, “Ichigo, stop sulking and go meet up with her. But before you do, do think of how you’ll handle her rage at submitting your resignation. You know how she hates it when people don’t believe in her.”

Ichigo balked. His dad was right. There would be hell to pay.

...

“Ah Ichigo, I thought you quit.” Rukia said impassively.

“Your highness, this is the matter I requested a private audience for - to speak about my application.”

Rukia turned to the two clerks handing off papers for her to sign, and said, “I’ll finish this in a few minutes. Can you give us some privacy?”

“Of course, your Majesty.” The two men turned to leave, closing the door beside them as they exited.

A deathly silence filled the room, until Ichigo could take it no more.

“Rukiaaa,” he pleaded.

In response, he got a heavily embroidered cushion in his face. “You fooool. You were actually going to leave, weren’t you? Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“You were crying the night before the coronation. I thought you had given up hope too. How would I know you had other plans?”

He got another cushion thrown at him. “Of course, I was crying! I was scared! Do you know how hard its been - fighting for you - for us?” Rukia trailed off, furiously wiping away the tears that had sprung up in the corner of her eyes.

Ichigo couldn’t take it any more. In one swift motion, he closed the gap between them and took her in his arms, breathing her in. “Rukia, I really am sorry. I should have believed you. Forgive me.”

He heard a muffled no from his chest.

“Rukiaaa, you know how crazily in love with you I am right? I won’t lose faith again. I’ll fight for you - for us, for our love.”

Silence.

Ok, Ichigo thought, she’d need a little more coaxing. “How about to make up when you get off the next day, you and I can have a little picnic in your garden. I’ll get all your favourite snacks.” He inched a little closer. “I’ll even smuggle in some of the juices boxes from the Southern border that you love so much.”

“Ichigo, we’re might be going to war with them!”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t have the best tasting juice in the continent.”

“Humph, fine.”

Ichigo laughed. Even with the crown on her head, Rukia’s pout made her look so much like the child she truly was. He leaned down to kiss her, and thanked the gods, or fate or whatever supernatural beings there were for allowing him to still be with Rukia. He didn’t know if they truly could ever get married, or be together like a normal couple, but he realized in that moment that he didn’t need normal. As long as he was the one in her heart, he was content to simply be by her side and love and cherish her with all his soul.

“I love you, Rukia.”

---

Happy Ichiruki month everyone! This story turned out to be super long because I combined 5 days worth of prompts! Written for Ichiruki AU Week Prompt Day 17: Coronation, Day 18: Tradition, Day 19: All my Demons have your Smile, Day 20: Romeo and Juliet, Day 21: Supernatural. I’m not sure if the characters were too OOC, but I tried to keep Rukia’s feisty nature alive as the heir to the throne, and Ichigo’s angst vibe from when he lost his powers and couldn’t see Rukia. Let me know what you thought! Hope you enjoyed