#of course it made the chapter way longer than I expected too but alas

[zombolouge]

fans of Peepaw and Poppy should be excited for tomorrow's chapter. Just so you know.

[mystical-flute]

Checkered: Chapter 9

Also on AO3 || Buy me a Ko-Fi

"Miss Mutou sure left in a hurry, Master Noah. Did she say what the emergency was?"

Noah turned away from the window, the gates closing after Reika's car was down the long stretch of road that led to the manor, and sighed. "Her grandfather was suddenly rushed to the hospital. She didn't have more information than that."

"That's awful news, sir. I'll inform the Big Five of this right away."

He shook his head and reached for his suit coat. "No, don't. I'll inform them. They were still at KaibaCorp, right?"

"Yes Master Noah, they are still in a meeting if I remember correctly. Allow me to drive you there myself."

Noah nodded. "Thank you Kemo."

It wasn't a long drive to KaibaCorp, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut with every passing second. Something was wrong - the Big Five tended to work late, he knew that, but all of them together? Holding a meeting? That was unusual.

No, he couldn't let himself be nervous. He couldn't show weakness, and he wouldn't.

Walking into KaibaCorp after dark was a strange sensation. Unlike his brother, Noah did not like to keep odd hours, instead preferring to leave with the rest of the nine-to-five employees. It felt like a liminal space - everything was where it should be, but there were no people, and the building itself was on power-conservation mode, and it made everything feel off.

Still, Noah's spine was straight as he entered the elevator (mercifully, the elevator felt correct), and ascended to the meeting rooms, taking the familiar path to the largest one, the Big Five's personal favorite, due to its privacy.

The door was closed, which was both not surprising and surprising at once. It was so late - no one else was in the building. Why did they need the door shut?

Steadying his oddly-shaking hand, Noah moved to knock on the door, only to pause when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He ducked out of the way of Kemo's hands, twisting and falling on his ass, causing Kemo to crash through the door.

"Kemo! What the hell are you doing?!"

"My goodness, Noah, are you alright?"

His blood ran cold at the voice.

Pegasus.

No. They weren't, were they? Not after everything…

Noah jumped to his feet and bolted in the direction of the elevator, hand fumbling in his pocket for his phone to call and warn Mokuba. Fuck - fuck! How could he have been so foolish to believe the Big Five wouldn't try something while Seto was gone?

He was too slow - there was a reason Kemo had been hired, for his speed and his strength in the event that something go horribly wrong, but never did Noah think that it would be him trying to outwit him. Noah tried to scratch and kick at the solidly-built man, but his attacks were doing nothing, and Kemo dragged him back to the meeting room, and he met the cold, calculating eyes of the Big Five, and Pegasus lording over all of them from the screen.

"Hello Noah. I must say I wasn't expecting you to be here today. I thought we had more time. But alas, here we are," Pegasus sighed.

"Time for what?"

"Time to plan a new era, of course, since Kaiba-boy is indisposed now."

Noah snarled and tugged against Kemo's grip, earning a foot to the back of the knee and hitting the carpeted floor with a pained groan. "I won't let you take KaibaCorp after everything we've done to bring it into the future!"

Pegasus simply laughed. "And you have done a marvelous job! Truly stunning work considering where your father had the company prior to his untimely demise. Unfortunately for you, the Big Five just don't believe you and Seto are capable at running the company, and have come to me for help. You and Seto are no longer in charge of KaibaCorp. It will be made public after my tournament." Something flashed beneath the curtain of silver hair Pegasus had, and Noah felt a wave of nausea hit him.

"There are seven of them. The Bracelet, the Puzzle, the Rod, the Scales, the Necklace, the Key, and the Eye," Reika had told him years ago.

Noah peered at the book on the table. "You and Yugi have the Bracelet and Puzzle… what about the others? Who owns them?"

She shrugged. "No one knows, but they're all dangerous. Anyone could have their untold dark magic in their possession."

"You did it! You put Solomon in the hospital, didn't you?! What did you do to him you son of a - "

Noah never finished his sentence as a golden light filled the room, and then everything went black.

-----

It was exhausting, having to participate in this charade. They all knew who Pegasus was gunning for. They knew that there was nothing any of them could do to stop him. What they didn't know was if the room was bugged and Pegasus was listening in. Not that it would matter - he could read four of their minds anyway.

It was a nauseating situation, and none of them had wanted to eat much as they sat in their little private viewing area to watch the duels. None of them wanted Noah to come through with a tray of food. Pegasus had been good about not using Noah for their larger meals, but they really didn't want to see him with snacks.

That hadn't stopped Pegasus from sending them in (mercifully not with Noah) though.

"Is anyone else feeling eerily like the Big Five right now?" Hideo asked. "Look at us, huddled around a screen with expensive snacks and drinks. Watching the ants on the island squirm."

Reika groaned and stared up at the ceiling. "Don't call them ants, Hideo, you sound like Crump."

He rubbed his head and took a seat on one of the couches. "Sorry. I think that old man has done more damage to my psyche than I thought. How are the duels going again? I can't even remember what day it is."

"Yugi's got three, but we haven't been able to catch any of his duels today." She had an awful, sinking feeling that Pegasus was keeping the duels from them on purpose, for some twisted reason.

"Mai Valentine seems to be doing good though. No surprise, since she's big in dueling circuits all around the world," Katsuo said. "She puts on a hell of a show too."

"She should have been on Seto's radar. I don't know why he never set up a duel with her before," Mei said.

Sora sighed and sipped at her water. "Hopefully one day he'll be able to."

That one day couldn't come soon enough.

A knock at the door startled them into silence as Croquet poked his head into the room. "Pardon the interruption, but Master Pegasus would like to see you all in the dining room."

They followed, of course, and found Pegasus looking smug at the head of the table.

"I have something grand to show you all," he said, voice taking on an annoying, sing-song tone as he pressed a button on his remote.

On the screen was Kemo holding Mokuba Kaiba in a choke hold off the ground.

"Pegasus… what did you do?" she asked, horror in her voice.

"I told you, a new era is beginning. That means ensuring that all members of the Kaiba family either submit to me or get out of the way. It's really quite simple, Miss Mutou," Pegasus shrugged. "It's just business, after all."

"Mokuba is a child. He shouldn't be involved in this."

"Mokuba, much like Noah, was too nosy for his own good. He's also too smart for his own good seeing as he managed to get out of the room he was staying in."

Anger radiated off of Hideo, though this time he didn't leap from his chair. "How long has he been here? How did we never see him?!"

Pegasus smiled and sipped at his wine. "He got here the night before you did."

When they would have been too busy preparing for the tournament to realize something had gone horribly wrong. Damn it all. Reika thought they knew how to play the game, but it appeared that they were the ones who were ants scurrying around and in way over their heads.

The camera panned, showing a duel arena, with Yugi (no, the Other Yugi, she realized) on one side and Seto on the other.

"Seto?!"

"Oh, no, I can understand why you would make that mistake, but Seto Kaiba is dead. That is his anger and frustration. What Yugi-boy expelled from him after their duel."

Horror filled the room once again, but it was Katsuo who spoke. "What do you mean he's dead?!"

Pegasus shrugged. "It would be a miracle to survive throwing yourself out of a cliff side window, wouldn't it? Though I suppose if anyone would, it would be Seto Kaiba…"

Reika closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No. There was no way Seto would throw himself out a window. He would never mimic Gozaburo, in anything. He had to be okay. He just had to be.

Seto had gone to the countryside. There was a chance he could outwit Pegasus, if his mind had finally gotten itself back together. Between Seto and Yugi, maybe all hope was not lost. Seto could get KaibaCorp back from The Big Five, and Yugi could defeat Pegasus and restore grandpa's soul. Maybe Noah's too, if he was willing.

That was a silly thought. It was Yugi, of course he would get every soul back to its body.

She just had to believe in them, and everything would work out. This… creature was not Seto Kaiba - she knew it. Seto was a man scorned, he would try to get his glory back, and his company. A little thing like a duel loss would never have driven him to the edge of that.

Loath as she was to admit it, the fact that the Seto-creature was able to command the cards as well as he was was rather impressive. The fact that he was able to summon the Blue-Eyes, of all cards, was a feat in itself.

Still, the fact that Pegasus had given an order to murder Seto instead of kidnapping him was alarming. Did that mean he would kill them instead of using his Eye? She thought soul sucking, but at least that could be revered, at the very least.

"Hm? What the - the Blue-Eyes hologram…"

Reika forced herself to open her eyes and look back at the screen, where the Blue-Eyes was indeed fading in and out from view. Strange… they had never encountered that glitch before in the systems.

Or… was it a glitch at all?

Reika sat up a little straighter as the Duel continued, and the Blue-Eyes melted away into nothingness. Pegasus' face began to twist in annoyance, which had to be a good thing.

"Well," Pegasus scoffed as the Blue-Eyes melted away. "It appears Kaiba-boy is more crafty than I gave him credit for. But I can't have him interfere with a sanctioned duel."

"It's a goon using illegally obtained cards and there is a child hostage. Surely that isn't what you wanted from the game!" Sora protested. "Mister Pegasus, please let Mokuba go!"

"I simply cannot do that, Miss Tanaka."

He could, easily. They all knew it. This was his damn show after all. But no, instead, he was enjoying watching them squirm, and enjoying tormenting a child.

"Yugi beat this deck once. He can do it again."

And he did.

Reika let out a heavy breath when the clown Yugi was dueling was finally vanquished, blasted back into the shadows.

Pegasus' wine glass shattered as the Other Yugi's voice filled the room, promising him a defeat, and Reika forced herself not to smile at the confidence coming from the screen as it faded to black. Maybe that wasn't actually Yugi speaking, but she hoped Yugi himself was picking up on some of the confidence the Other Yugi was giving.

"Croquet…" Pegasus said slowly. "Please escort our guests back to their rooms. We will be providing them with room service."

The infliction in his voice was clear: Pegasus was done trying to pretend that they were really honored guests.

"Please Pegasus, do the right thing," Sora implored again as the Young Five rose from their seats and began heading toward the door. "Let all of us go."

"Your pleas will fall on deaf ears, Miss Tanaka."

Croquet paused at the end of the hall, and the five went back into their rooms. Reika kicked off her heels and sighed, trying to loosen the tension in her shoulders. It seemed to be working, until she heard a very distinctive click from the door.

They were prisoners, just like the Kaiba brothers.

The next day was quiet, and she spent most of it confined to the room and worried about what she was missing by not having access to the duels. Pegasus' men were woefully unhelpful when she asked, and Kemo only gave her a toothy, malicious grin.

It wasn't until afternoon when they were summoned to their viewing room.

"What, no Pegasus today?" Hideo asked, eyes narrowing at Kemo. "What gives, Kemo?"

"Mister Pegasus is busy getting ready for the finals," Kemo said with a shrug. "There's one more big duel that he wants you all to see. It's important, for the good of the company, you know. So much so, that the Big Five will be viewing it as well. Their camera is set up right there."

That couldn't have been good at all, and Reika's stomach rolled as she spotted the camera in the corner. It hadn't been there all weekend, which she was hoping meant they hadn't paid any attention to the tournament until now.

The screen blinked on, showing the castle exterior. On the one side, she saw Yugi and his friends (strange, when had Bakura showed up?), and on the other -

"Yes, the real Seto Kaiba showed up last night, believe it or not, but you know the rules - you need ten star chips to gain access to the castle."

"So he's dueling Yugi because Joey isn't at his level."

Joey had ten star chips as well, at least from what she could see, but as Yugi had been the one to beat Seto last time…

No matter who won, she was going to lose.

Her jaw tightened, and she sagged back against the couch, wondering what sort of deity she'd pissed off in a past life to deserve to have to go through this hell. Her grandfather comatose, the company she'd been a part of her whole life having been co-opted by another, and the man she'd looked to for guidance when she wanted to keep things from her parents was a monster who went along with all of it.

Seto looked exhausted, and his pupils were tiny little dots in his eyes indicating his fury. This was going to be so, so bad.

"Kaiba, please, we don't have to do this. There has to be another way!" Yugi was saying.

"You know the rules of Duelist Kingdom, Yugi. You need ten Star Chips. I have five, you have five, and I'm taking them so I can end this ridiculous charade of Pegasus'!"

"We both have someone we're fighting for! Let's just figure out a way to work together!"

"I can't. I won't! This is something I have to do on my own. Not after the betrayals I've already faced."

The Young Five flinched. Surely Seto didn't actually think they were part of this, right?

"How can The Big Five expect us to be okay with this?" Hideo muttered. "Planning a hostile takeover is one thing, but all of these steps and the ancient magic, and forcing us to watch all of this… it's all too extreme."

"They sold their souls, so they expect the same of us," Katsuo replied. "They don't understand that we aren't them."

Sora sighed and ran a hand along her face. "They don't understand that their era is over."

"Or they do understand and they just don't care," Mei added. "My uncle said he would rather die than give up control of the law department completely."

Reika glanced up at the camera in the room. It didn't appear to have any sort of microphone on it, which was good - the last thing she wanted was for them to overhear the Young Five.

"They don't care about anything but themselves," Reika finally said, glancing at the others. "We're pawns. We always have been. We were just there to try and make KaibaCorp look good… and I think we did too good of a job."

The group fell quiet for a moment, and back and forth the duel went, until Hideo spoke again.

"They never really cared about us, did they? What were they even planning for us before Gozaburo died?"

A chill settled over the room. They had been puppets for so many years, it was hard to imagine having to continue to be one had Gozaburo still been alive. But on the other hand, how many more innocent people would have been swept up in Gozaburo's twisted game? How many people would have died or gone missing because of Gozaburo's power and influence?

Reika stared at the screen, watching carefully. The Other Yugi was in control of Yugi's body, she could tell. He seemed reasonably calm, all things considered, but as each turn went on… Seto seemed to be slipping - not in terms of the duel, he kept making excellent plays but emotionally. Reika seriously questioned how much sleep he'd been getting lately.

"I'm not going to let you win, Yugi!" Seto was snarling. "I will crush anyone who gets in my way!"

And she understood that. She really, really did, because Pegasus needed to free Noah and Mokuba, and give KaibaCorp back to its rightful owner but… Seto had to know her grandfather's life was on the line too. To hear him be so callous about that… it hurt.

"It's like Pegasus is doing everything he can to turn Seto into Gozaburo," Hideo said with a frown. "I would be impressed if I wasn't nauseous."

"No kidding."

"Guys, why is Seto backing up?"

Seto was, indeed backing up, until he stood on the ledge of the tower.

The air in the viewing room seemed to go still.

"Yugi, if you attack me now, the ensuing shock wave might make me lose my balance, and I'll fall to my death."

"Don't tempt me!"

Reika winced, heart in her throat. The Other Yugi was different from the cousin she'd grown up with, and she understood that, but to hear those words coming out of Yugi's mouth was difficult.

"It's over," she muttered. "There's no way Yugi's going to - "

"Celtic Guardian! Attack!"

"What? Yugi!" Katsuo barked. "What the hell is wrong with him?!"

"He's possessed," Reika whispered in horror. "It's not him, he would never - "

"Yugi! This isn't like you! Stop the attack!"

She had never been so relieved to hear Anzu's voice, and she could barely summon the courage to keep her eyes open as Yugi seemed to hesitate, but then finally did call the Celtic Guardian back, ending the duel, and Reika let out a shaking, mirthless laugh as she tried to breathe through her urge to scream or vomit, or both while the screen went to black.

She put her head in her hands and took slow, even breaths. A breakdown right now wouldn't be becoming of a Young Five member, no matter how much she desperately wanted to.

It was hard to tell how much time passed before they were called again, this time to sit in the dueling arena's VIP balcony. On the other side of the room, she saw Bandit Keith Howard, Mai Valentine, and Yugi and his friends (where Yugi had managed to find five other star chips she didn't know, nor care).

They were to watch another duel - one that would settle the matter of KaibaCorp once and for all.

Reika knew, as the Young Five took their seats in the VIP balcony, how this duel was going to end. She didn't flinch as Seto entered the arena and glared up at them. None of them had the energy to try and fight back with their eyes - Reika just hoped that Seto would understand the defeated looks they were giving him were looks from people who didn't want the situation they were in, but were powerless to stop it.

She exchanged a glance with Yugi, who looked as tired as she felt. Clearly, this hadn't been an easy weekend for him either.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the creator of Duel Monsters, Mister Maximilian Pegasus!" Croquet said, his gravely voice echoing through the room.

Pegasus entered with a flourish, beaming at those gathered, while Seto continued to bristle.

"Kaiba-boy! I'm so excited to finally be able to duel you. After so many years, and so many tournaments watching you climb your way to the top," Pegasus said. "This duel will be one for the ages!"

"You're going to be sorry for what you did to my brothers and my company! When I win, I'm cleaning house!"

Visible discomfort rippled through the Young Five.

"You're certainly welcome to try, Kaiba-boy. Let's duel."

Seto didn’t stand a chance, and KaibaCorp's last hope fell in a look of fury and a blinding light.

[casspurrjoybell-23]

The Raven - Chapter 29

*Warning Adult Content*

"I have come bearing good news, Your Majesty," Delilah says, once again allowing herself uninhibited entrance into the king's chambers. "Their bond is definitely becoming stronger," she continues, thoroughly masking her great disdain for the growing connection between the two young men. "Prince Henry and the raven have recently become... intimate with each other."

With a short nod, the king curtly replies...

"Then the time is almost upon us."

After a slight pause, he ponders aloud...

"What of the princess?"

"Rather unfortunately for our plan, the queen has already informed Princess Elaina of her intention to marry her to Prince Henry. The princess has eagerly accepted the proposition. In fact, she, too, seems to be quite taken with the prince," the witch answers truthfully, mentally preparing herself for the imminent display of dissatisfaction that is likely about to erupt from

His Majesty at the news.

She knows he has a hard time containing himself when in regard to the queen's interference with his plans.

Placing his head in his hands, the king lets out a loud, drawn-out sigh, attempting to reign in his mounting anger as it pulses violently in his veins.

"Of course, my meddling wife cannot keep her nose out of it. She always needs to feel as if she is the one in charge, it is a terrible trait for a woman," he says. His Majesty bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at the innocent woman standing before him instead of the troublesome one who simply cannot keep out of his affairs.

Turning his attention back to Delilah, he continues, "A woman should know her place."

A sultry smile graces the witch's face at the wholly unsubtle insinuation of the king, her core warming at the expectant and promising expression etched on his features.

She inquires playfully, wanting to hear him say the words aloud...

"Tell me, Your Majesty. Where is a woman's place?"

The tension between the two quickly dissipates as they lose themselves in each other, their lips locking passionately and their hands grasping and groping, devouring every inch of one another as if they had previously been starved of affection.

Or, more appropriately, in this case, sexual gratification.

Too absorbed in the heat growing between them, they do not realize that they have company in the room, the two are utterly oblivious to the fact that they are not alone.

Standing in the doorway with eyes wide in shock and anger boiling inside her is none other than the queen.

Seeing her husband intimately entangled with another woman makes the rage burn in her belly.

Without a word, the queen storms out of the room, uncaring whether or not she is causing a scene or disrupting the disgusting display happening within the king's bedroom, her mind made up.

She will do things her way from here on out and her cheating rat of a husband can do damage control for his own plan with no one but that harlot to assist him.

Surely, preventing the war from the beginning is a better solution to the problem, anyway, the queen had always believed this to be true.

How could His Majesty think otherwise?

The foolish man, he is likely under some sort of magical spell cast by the witch, some seductive compulsion intended to get him to unknowingly do her bidding.

Alas, he will now have to suffer the consequences on his own, the queen will no longer be there to pick up the pieces after his imminent failure.

Her Majesty marches directly to Princess Elaina's room and barges in, not bothering to knock or otherwise announce her arrival in any way.

Her sudden and rather dramatic appearance startles the unsuspecting princess, her body visibly jumping at the unexpected intrusion into her bedroom.

"Your Majesty," Princess Elaina says in surprise, standing from her seat before the vanity mirror to greet her important visitor. "How can I help you?"

"I am planning a ball for your engagement to my son," the queen announces, her head held high and her tone tight with sizzling and hardly restrained anger. "It will be held in three days' time, so the staff has adequate time to make the preparations."

"Three days?" Elaina asks, equally shocked and thrilled by the news. "But Prince Henry has not even proposed to me yet, it has not been more than a couple of days since my arrival in your kingdom."

While her words ring with a faint protestation, the sheer exuberance in her voice cannot be hidden, especially to the knowing queen.

"My son will propose before the ball," Her Majesty assures, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stares down the princess before her.

"I will make sure of it," she promises, an air of authority possessing her entirely, controlling her movements and words alike.

"Henry does not have a say in the matter unless he wants to lose the throne."

After her final threatening statement, the queen swiftly turns and exits the room.

Excitement over the impending marriage is the only emotion the princess can feel at the moment.

She cannot even bring herself to care that the queen just proclaimed that Prince Henry has no choice but to marry her, that his mother is forcing him to take Princess Elaina as his wife, regardless of what the prince himself wants.

Indeed, he would have made the decision himself after getting to know her, anyway, the princess is sure of this.

Henry is no fool, he would easily see the benefit of their union given enough time to accept the sudden changes in his life.

Princess Elaina is certain that he would make a good and responsible king, and putting his duties to his country over his own wishes is the only way to ensure sustainability within the kingdom.

The princess lets out an ecstatic shriek, the shrillness of her own voice slightly alarming even herself as it assaults her ears.

However, she cannot bring herself to care at the moment, this is a momentous occasion that requires immediate and thorough celebration, and she cannot allow herself to dampen her newfound joy in any way.

Perhaps she could lower her tone a bit, though, covering her ears with her palms, Princess Elaina lets loose another high-pitched and entirely obnoxious squeal before allowing herself to dissolve into a giddy puddle of leftover princess.

[angelasscribbles]

Bad Romance Chapter 14: Repercussions Part 1

Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Multiple

Paring this chapter: Riley x Rashad; Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake, Riley x Maxwell

Rating: R

Word Count: 2,807

A/N: The photo for this chapter is my face claim for Rashad. His name is Manish Dayal and in real life, he plays a doctor on the tv show The Resident.

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes

General blanket warning for series: Smutty, Lemony, Awful, Toxic Relationships with lots of cheating. This is a hot mess express; no one is happy, everyone is in love with the wrong person, every relationship depicted herein is generally and massively fucked up. You’ve been warned.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley and Rashad

Rashad spoke as they walked down the hallway, “Once the amended contract is drawn up, with all the revisions discussed today, I’ll get back to you to review it. Liam’s team will also have to sign off on everything. Once both sides agree as to content and form, we’ll file it, and it will be done.”

“I can’t thank you enough for everything. Not just the legal help, but being there for me, being my friend. And, you know, those other things.” She poked him lightly in the side.

They made their way down the stairs as he laughed, “I’m going to miss you.”

He knew this was goodbye. It hadn’t been lost on him that she had packed up all her things that morning and brought them with her back to the palace. She had been that confident about the outcome.

“We’ll still see each other.” She told him.

“Yes, but it won’t be the same now that you don’t need anything from me.”

They had reached the front foyer and she stopped, pulling him into the empty piano room. She turned to look him in the eyes, “Rashad, I did need something from you, but that’s not why I slept with you. I know people think I sleep around indiscriminately but I don’t. I may be more free spirited than most, but I’m still choosy. To sleep with a man, I have two requirements. One, that I’m attracted to him and you, sir, in case you don’t realize it, are very attractive.”

“Well thank you but-“

“Dare I say smoking hot?” She grinned at him before continuing, “And two, that I like them. And I do like you. A lot.”

“But you’re in love with Liam.” It wasn’t a question. He had suspected it from the beginning, he had known it for certain when she had defended him during the negotiations.

She looked around, as if afraid someone might overhear, then leaned in toward him, “Yes. But don’t you dare tell him that! A girl has to hold onto what little leverage she has left. And a little mystery keeps things interesting.”

“I would never stand in the way of true love. Alas, I never had a real chance with you, did I?”

“Rashad-“

“It’s ok, I think I knew that from the beginning. I never expected it to last. I knew when you asked for the amended contract where things were heading.”

“And still you did you best to make that happen.”

“Of course! I would never compromise my professional ethics! And I certainly would never try to tank your negotiations for my own selfish ends.”

“Because you’re a genuinely good person, Rashad. One of the many things I like and admire about you.”

“You’re going to be a married woman soon. My queen, no less. I will remove myself from the equation, but I want you to know how much I have enjoyed our little interlude. I’ll treasure it, always.” He said, taking her hand and placing it over his heart. He meant it. It wasn’t like he was in love with her, though he thought he could have been, under other circumstances, maybe in another life.

“Me too, Rashad, thank you for everything.” She leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Rashad rubbed the spot on his cheek and smiled at her, “Though we won’t be lovers any longer, I hold nothing but fond affection for you in my heart and I dearly hope we can remain friends.”

“Of course we will! I told you, I like you. And I hope you will remain my personal lawyer if I should need one in the future. Once I’m queen I’ll be able to pay you like you deserve.”

“I don’t care how much money you have, I would never charge you for my services. Besides, you won’t need me, you’ll have access to the entire royal legal team for-“

“Pffft. Those stuck up old fogies? The same ones that pushed that awful contract on me in the first place? I don’t think so. I trust you! I can’t control who the council hires or who Liam uses. But if I personally need advice or legal representation, there is no one else I would turn to. Plus, I don’t forget my friends. So, if you ever need anything from me, anything at all, you let me know. You helped me when I had nothing to offer you in return. Now that I’ll have an entire kingdom at my disposal, don’t think I’ll forget who my true friends are.”

He laughed softly, “You are a force to be reckoned with my lady.”

“I have a considerable amount more force behind me now, thanks to you. And I won’t forget it.” She rubbed his shoulder.

“Very well, ya amar, I am eternally at your service.” He gave a little bow as he took her hand in his and brushed a kiss across the back of it.

“Good. That’s exactly how I like my men.” She laughed pulling him into a hug. “If you miss me too much, you can always call or text you know.”

He smiled down at her, “Noted. Now, I have to get back to my office. I’ve neglected all my other clients for far too long. Goodbye Riley.”

“Goodbye Rashad.” She watched him leave then she pulled out her phone to call Hana and give her the good news.

Liam, Drake and Maxwell

Liam sailed gleefully into the semi-private living room on the first floor, where he knew Drake would be. He frowned when he found Max there as well, but of course Max was there, Riley was back.

That meant two things. One, Max knew ahead of time she would be, which wasn’t that surprising. She really did text him every day. But it also meant she was planning on staying. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have summoned her lap dog.

He decided it didn’t matter. Max was not a threat. He, at least, understood his place in Riley’s life and wasn’t trying to usurp Liam’s position, he wasn’t trying to compete with him or convince her to break their marriage contract. Max mostly tried to keep his relationship with Riley off his radar. Besides, he needed to hear the news too.

Drake looked up suspiciously, “Why are you so happy? I thought you were meeting Riley today about the marriage contract.”

The shit eating grin that broke out across Liam’s face was real. “I did and it went very well. We’ve set a date!”

Drake’s mouth fell open, “What?!? I thought she was going to break the contract not set a- what the hell happened in that meeting?”

“She had me dead to rights, she could have filed this and been done with me, if that’s what she really wanted.” He said as he dropped the papers in Drake’s lap.

Drake flipped through the papers. When he got to the end, his mouth dropped open, “This is all the evidence she needs! What the hell did you do to get her to drop it?”

“Nothing.” Liam gloated.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“I mean…she never had any intention of filing this. All her talk about terminating the contract was bullshit. She was just trying to get a rise out of me. She pushes my buttons on purpose because the makeup sex is always fucking amazing. This is like foreplay to her. If you don’t realize that, then you don’t know her nearly as well as you think you do.”

“So, you expect me to believe that she just dropped the whole thing? After spending all that time chasing these women down and bothering to have this paperwork drawn up?” Drake shook his head, “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe. Ask her yourself. You’ll find out soon enough, we’re getting married in two months.”

“Two months? That’s not enough time to plan a wedding!”

“The only thing I require for the wedding is the bride. I could give a rats ass less if we have centerpieces.”

Drake shook his head again, “This makes no sense! I don’t understand-“

“It’s simple really. She told me that she didn’t actually want to terminate our marriage contract then she proposed an amended contract instead and I agreed. This proves that she loves me. She doesn’t want out of the marriage contract. If she did, she would be.”

“But she knows about all the other women! How does she just forgive you for that?”

“Oh, did I never tell you that she caught one of them right outside my door?”

“Before or after?”

“Before. But she knew what she was there for.”

“That couldn’t have gone well for you.”

Liam gave him a self-satisfied smirk, “Oh, but it did. She ran the woman off then she took her place.”

“Wait…what?”

“I told you, the angrier she is at me, the hotter the sex. She turned me inside out. It was the best blow job of my fucking life.”

“What the fuck?! I get caught with Kiara and she wrecks my shit, breaks everything I own, literally physically assaults me….but you get caught doing the same thing with multiple women and you get rewarded with the best blow job you’ve ever had in your life? What the holy fucking hell?”

Liam shook his head, “The two things aren’t comparable.”

“What do you mean not comparable? What you did was worse, there was more than one…and it was calculated, at least what I did was in the heat of the moment!”

“Heat of the moment was your mistake. And what I did was not even close to what you did.”

“He’s right, Drake,” Max looked at him like he was an idiot, “It was completely different.”

“How?! In what way was-“

Max frowned, “Drake, you were emotionally intimate with another woman, a woman you’d been with before, a woman you’re friends with, a woman she has to see constantly at court-“

“Ok, I’ll grant you that the women Liam had sucking his dick were random, but other than that-“

“Other than that.” Liam laughed, “I never touched them Drake, they were a means to an end and that end was to deal with the frustration she caused! Ultimately, it was all about her.”

“I still don’t see how-“

“Did you kiss Kiara?” Liam asked.

Drake frowned, “Of course, what kind of question-“

“Did you touch her, Drake? Did you make sure she enjoyed herself as much as you did?”

“Of course, I did! I’m not a neanderthal!”

Liam and Max were both shaking their heads.

“What?” Drake looked back and forth between them in confusion.

Max tried to explain, “You showed Kiara that you liked her, what Liam did was impersonal, she doesn’t have to even question if it meant something to him on an emotional level, because clearly it didn’t.”

Liam added, “None of those women were remotely a threat to her position in my life, or in my heart, and she knows that. Kiara though…that’s a different story. And the fact that both Max and I get it, and you don’t, is simply further proof that you’re not the man for her, Drake.”

Drake threw his arms up in exasperation, “But she’s literally fucking all three of us!”

Liam shrugged. “She requires fidelity that she doesn’t give, Max understands that. Don’t you?”

Max nodded his head solemnly, “She may never be completely mine, but I’m completely hers and that’s enough for me.”

“How? How is that enough for you?” Drake demanded.

Max shrugged, “Because I just don’t have the kind of ego you two do. I loved both my parents. If I had another brother, I’d love him too, that wouldn’t take away from Bertrand. I know Riley loves Liam and maybe Drake, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me.”

“I….what? Yeah, it kind of does!” Drake exploded.

“No, it doesn’t and here’s the thing: I’ll still be here, by her side, long after your pride has eliminated you.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, “You’re very confident.”

“I am. I give her something neither of you are capable of.”

“And what’s that?” Liam asked.

“Unconditional support.”

“What do you mean?” Drake inquired.

“I mean….when she’s crying over one of you, whose arms do you think she’s crying in?”

“And you’re ok with that? You don’t care that she’s thinking about another man when she’s with you?” Drake started at him in astonishment.

Max sighed. Clearly Drake was never going to understand where he was coming from, but he tried anyway, “No. I love her! My love is not conditional on who else she does or doesn’t sleep with. I don’t try to dictate anything to her. I don’t want to. If she’s sad, I want to make her feel better. I don’t spend much time worrying about why she’s sad, other than thinking of ways I can help.”

Drake shook his head, “Ok, Max is a lost cause…….but why do you put up with it Liam?”

“Because I opened the door to all of it when I chose Madeleine. And after that, I just kept making mistakes. I hurt her, repeatedly. I just want her back. Whatever she doles out, trust me, I deserve it.”

“But how long is that an excuse? You’re telling me that you’re going to marry her in two months, even after she told you she doesn’t want to marry you and she’s in love with me?”

“First of all, she clearly does want to marry me. She lied to you. Or maybe to herself, I don’t know. You saw those affidavits. If she wanted to break the contract, she could have. You held the proof in your hands. As far as being in love with you? She’s not. It’s another lie. Again, to you, or herself, I don’t know; but if she loves you so much, why has she never stopped sleeping with me? Did she tell you that I fucked her up against the wall the night she told me? And again at the Ambassador’s ball while you were locked in your room? But as to the second part….I have some questions of my own, Drake. How did that even happen? How is that my supposed best friend is sleeping with my fiancée, hmmm? I’d love to hear your explanation for that.”

“Liam, you dumped her! You rejected her, pretty fucking publicly, for another woman!”

“Yes. But you knew that was all for show and unless I’m missing something, you weren’t fucking her after that because she was at Ramsford and you were here. Which means….the engagement tour? Is that where it started? Tell me, was it before or after we announced our engagement, Drake?”

“Why does it even matter? You were too busy with Madeleine to be bothered. I was the one that was there for her when she was clearing her name! I was the one that was there for her the night Tariq attacked her! And I never touched that girl until after you threw her away!”

Liam stepped toward him; fists clenched, “I didn’t-“

“That’s not true.” Max said so softly they almost didn’t hear him.

“What?” Liam looked at Max, blinked then his eyes snapped to Drake’s face.

The blood drained out of Drake’s face as he shook his head, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Max.”

“You think I don’t know what happened on the plane ride over here?” Max asked him.

“I-“ his eyes shot from Max to Liam and he shook his head again, “Max slept with her on that plane!”

“Yeah, I did. But I wasn’t the only one.”

Drake scoffed, “I can’t help it that I had to finish what you couldn’t Beaumont.”

Drake took a step back as Liam advanced on him again, throwing his hand up, palm open, “Listen! I swear, it was a one time thing! Nothing else happened after that! I mean, not during the social season anyway. Not until you ended things with her!”

Liam regarded him for a moment as he struggled to get his anger under control. Finally he drew in a deep breath and in a tight voice said, “I’m giving Kiara that diplomatic post she wanted. She’ll be leaving Cordonia. Maybe you should go with her.” Then he turned and walked out of the room.

“Was that really necessary Max?” Drake barked at him.

Max shrugged, “You’re always such a big fan of the truth so….”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck you.” Drake walked out the door as he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Riley: We need to talk. Can you come to my room ASAP?

She responded: On my way.

He put his phone up and hurried back to his room to wait for her.

[noa-ciharu]

FuuKam with ahem, no.33--- i'm testing you how you will make this hot---(?)😎😎 (i know i asked too much but i'm sinful--)

I sinned so much with this one it's unbelievable. TRC setting, nothing much of plot is going on. The plot however...

Also thank you @gabbylyons for helping me chose an outfit for Kamui, it was a tough one because he'd look good in anything. I never called outfit by it's notorious name but if you've been on internet for a while I bet you'll know right off the bat.

Extremely NSFW and kinky so under cut. Look, I planned this to be around 4-5k, somehow it turned 10.5k. It's PWP so all sin and kinks. Maybe I'll put it on ao3 someday, who knows.

33 - "you're not going out dressed like that"

With a yawn Fuuma flipped book pages; hazily skimmed over lines and lines of text. Mind refused to follow. It was what? Only nine in the evening? Absurdity he was already so exhausted but not to say he wasn’t overworking himself during past fortnight. Searching for treasure Yuuko employed him for proved to be no easy feat this time around; candle had to be burnt at both ends.

Leastwise Kamui was by his side, has been for a year or so now; perhaps because of his presence Fuuma felt motivated to work extra hard for few weeks, finish all treasure hunts in least time possible and snatch extra week or two to spend together. Quality time however; they saw each other every day yes, but rarely got chance in last fortnight to actually be together.

Another yawn. Putting finger between current pages he flipped dozen more around; ten more pages till end of chapter, maybe he should push himself a bit more. What was the last thing? Protagonist fainting because someone brought up murder he committed? Way to be subtle. Or maybe he imagined that fatuity? Fuuma leaned back into backrest and groaned; grasped for coffee cup on side-table. He should put book down, call it a day and go to bed; coffee wasn’t doing it for him. Pity however, he wished to spend time with Kamui, even if cuddling and dozing off on couch. He should be done with shower by now? Fuuma didn’t hear water running any longer.

As fate would have it, door creaked the exact moment. Fuuma grabbed book again and tried to concentrate for ten more pages; after that he’d either spend some time with Kamui now that he’s available or go straight to bed. Maybe coax him into joining and have both. Fuuma doubted he had energy for anything more than cuddling or sloppy make-out season.

“I’m going to ground floor to check the mailbox”, Kamui said in passing.

Right, he was expecting a letter from his twin. However, if it hasn’t arrived by late morning chances of letter arriving now were slim. Whatever floats his boat, maybe Kamui wanted to catch a breath of fresh air instead? Fuuma turned page around and mechanically glanced up.

“Alri -”

Words died in throat. Distantly Fuuma discerned bang of book hitting the floor. I have to be dreaming, there’s no other.

Blinking once, then once more Fuuma tried to wash away the jaw-dropping image. Alas, it persisted. Kamui’s back was still turned towards him – naked back. Ends of bow tied around nape slid down bare skin all the way down to small of his back, where dress explicit cut ended. If it was an inch lower, Fuuma had no doubt he’d see crack of his ass. Striking ruby red brought contrast to pale skin and black hair. It looked sinful on Kamui’s slender body. Sight straight out of wet dreams, it made Fuuma’s groin stir considerably.

Damn.

Fuuma sobered up immediately. Mere seconds ago he was considering dozing off but now couldn’t feel more awake. Sleep would certainly be last thing on mind for next couple hours. Fleetingly Fuuma recalled purchasing sexy wool sweater like that many moons ago; a prank, more of a dare. Of course Kamui hissed at him like some offended cat and refused to wear ‘such perversity for him to take pictures to later wank off to’, as he profanely put it. Since then sweeter was collecting dust somewhere in back of drawer; not even within wildest flights of imagination did Fuuma see Kamui wearing it. Voluntary to the boot, no coaxing or dubious consent whatsoever. But now…

Smirk crept up lips, both predatory and triumphant. Gears within mind set into motion. Oh Kamui, you’re not going anywhere like that. Don’t think for a moment I’ll let you.

“You’re not going out dressed like that”, Fuuma commanded in low rough tone as he abruptly stood up. That caught Kamui’s attention; he stopped inches away from door and slowly turned around.

Ah, that image, no words could describe how drop-dead gorgeous Kamui looked. Sleeveless turtleneck sweater clung to him like second skin, only accented curves of his slender body; dress barely covered groin, left Kamui’s bare legs open to unrestrained ogling, something Fuuma planed to do himself. Hell would freeze over before he lets someone else see his lover in outfit that revealing and attention-grabbing.

Still, understatement to say situation felt off. Kamui could be kinky and wanton in bed but never this provocative outside sexual situations. Not to mention libertine, never flaunted himself for others. All Fuuma could see was red, both taunting ruby in front of him and scorching fury within mind’s eye.

Kamui’s voice grounded imaginary rage back to reality.

“I’m not going out”, Kamui responded sharply. Put hands on hips and tried to look self-assured; there was no mistaking slight blush on cheeks.

Sweater rode up thighs; Kamui reached down and readjusted it. Blush intensified, indicator Kamui was, indeed, conscious of how indecent outfit was; as well as implication it carried. Fuuma licked lower lip and took a step forward. Kamui shivered, but then rubbed bare arms and tried to play it of as coldness; adorable but unnecessary, Fuuma knew intimately well what it was all about.

“Just to ground floor”, Kamui murmured under breath and glanced down to carpet, cheeks tiled pink.

I don’t think you will. Fuuma fixated him with predatory look, one that left on place for ambiguity of where his thoughts were. Feast for eyes indeed, especially exposed like that; but not for a second did Fuuma let his stare leave Kamui’s face. Message had to be passed, Kamui had to feel full intensity of that hunter’s fixation, of raw desire in eyes. Pants already felt too tight; deciding to put halt to all coyness and dancing around topic, Fuuma addressed the matter.

“Kamui”, he whispered velvety but didn’t bother masking irritation.

Kamui’s gaze bolted up; their eyes met. His pupils dilated instantly, breath fell short.

“You’re not passing front door in that”, Fuuma repeated roughly, each syllable spelled out accented and slow enough for words to sink in.

Barely audible gasp left Kamui’s lips; few second ticked by before expression shifted from flushed to vexed one; resembled pout more. Almost like he recalled he should act feisty, rather than really feeling that way.

Interesting.

Fuuma felt aroused further at this alleged play-act; they’ll do anything but sleep tonight it seemed. Anger was pushed aside for a second, but not forgotten. Kamui would pay for trying to ruffle him up, one way or another.

“Don’t tell me what to do Fuuma. You don’t control me”, Kamui hissed and tried his best to glare.

Fiery indeed, just the way Fuuma liked. There wasn’t side of Kamui he wasn’t allured to; from coy flirt to rare instance of being docile to wantonly submissive; or boldly aggressive and feisty like now. That side of Kamui evoke a hunter within him; primal instinct to dominate and seduce Kamui into yielding. Is this game we’re going to play? Don’t be surprised if you awaken animal inside of me.

Despite seeing through Kamui’s scheme (more bratty antics fueled by frustration), ire did emerge. Kamui’s rebellious side was one thing, quite another flaunting himself at other. No way Kamui seriously considered going out in outfit that’s basically asking for sex; his kinkier side was reserved for bedroom only, for Fuuma’s eyes only. Bait was laid and he fell right for it; under any other circumstances Fuuma would feel miffed at own predictability, but right now when he’d benefit from it? No way he’d let such salacious opportunity slide.

However that wasn’t to say traces of irritation weren’t present; Kamui chose to play a rather dangerous game.

Fuuma straightened back and aimed to appear as dominating as possible; not to intimidate Kamui, quite the contrary.

“Watch your mouth”, he scolded in guttural tone.

Kamui continued fake-glaring but didn’t protest at all. Surge of triumph swept by at implicit submission. Kamui was leagues ahead of him strength-vise, if he were to seriously retort there would be nothing Fuuma could do but accept. In that manner it was beyond empowering, intoxicating even, to beat someone as strong as Kamui into submission; precisely because it wasn’t fight to begin with, he yielded out of own volition.

Fuuma took a chance to let eyes wander over Kamui’s body once more. Long slim legs, slight curves and hollow of waist – he traced them all before and will so again; very soon. Fuuma felt his erection twitch at sight, only urging on. Pity most of front was covered with red wool; of no account, Kamui’s back was as exposed as one might wish. Fuuma smirked, intelligible desires finally gained shape; gaze bolted up to Kamui’s pretentiously miffed expression.

“Be a good boy and move from that door, I’m not touching you there”, Fuuma commanded.

Not for a second did penetrating stare leave Kamui’s eyes. He visibly shuddered. Oh yes my dear, do submit.

Cheeky smirk crept up lips. In octave lower Fuuma added - “Neighbors won’t hear sounds you make when I’m fucking you. Those are for my ears only”

Flush spread over cheeks, pupils dilated for a heartbeat; yet despite obvious affectedness Kamui tried to remain unaffected; feisty like untamed animal, like he did crave to be tamed. Perhaps that’s precisely why he’s being wayward and purposely instigating sparks of tension. Ah right, it’s been a while since their last time; perhaps even a week, now that he bethought it. Fuuma tended to be one to initiate sexual activities on regular basis; hence thought of Kamui being sexually frustrated never crossed his mind.

Interesting indeed.

In addition, whenever desperate or overall horny, Kamui had inclinations towards aggressiveness and boldness. Fuuma glanced down to Kamui’s groin; slight outline of erection was discernible, if one were to observe with keen eye. Kamui either got aroused by his firmness and dominant side or was hard even before leaving bathroom. Fuuma’s own erection twitched as imagination began to run wild; with ease he silenced those libidinous cravings, or more precisely just postponed them. Flame ignited within veins, in lust and leftovers of rage.

Really, out of all ways to indicate he wanted to be fucked, Kamui chose to evoke protectiveness and possessiveness within him. What was he thinking? Did he really plan to go outside in such revealing outfit and panties in case Fuuma didn’t notice him on time? If he gave a green light (no way of course, but in hypothetical scenario), would Kamui really let other people see him almost naked?

Flame flared up into fire, scorched through very being. Anger partially directed towards Kamui’s boldness to purposely provoke him with something he disliked; all while making him unable to resist. Scarcely ever was he truly irritated but this impudence called for it. Fuuma narrowed eyes and pierced Kamui with a half glare half leer. Don’t think you’ll manage to seduce your way out of this one. Alluring you may be, but I can resist you if situation called it.

And trust me, I will.

Kamui pretended to sigh wearily; murmured something under breath and began pacing towards him. Halted within arm reach and tsked.

“Here, are you hap -”

In a flash Fuuma seized Kamui’s wrists. Startled yelp went over head. Second more and Fuuma managed to hold Kamui’s wrists with one hand; wrapped other around waist and pulled Kamui against himself. I want you, but on my terms only.

“What would you do if neighbor caught you of guard like this?”, Fuuma narrowed eyes and asked firmly.

Pupils dilated, yet no hints of perturbation; raw desire in them. Kamui’s body felt hot against his. Fuuma purposely rubbed thigh over Kamui’s groin; he squeezed eyes shut and grinded teeth, tried to remain unaffected. Yes, he was already hard, no negating that. Grip over wrists tautened, another gasp left lips. Kamui opened eyes and glared, but didn’t try to break free.

“I’d fight back”, Kamui lied through his teeth.

Glare intensified, in response Fuuma smirk broadened; sadistic appetite whetted, he’d make Kamui have a taste of own medicine.

“Like you’re doing now?”, Fuuma offered back in a heartbeat; tone guttural enough to send shivers down Kamui’s spine.

Yearning yes, but perplexed at same time; in all fairness Fuuma was too. Ardency from within burned low, flame of bubbling irritation only fueled by carnal desires. Both primal, both seized too deep, embedded within very soul. Simply fulfilling one of lustful nature wouldn’t do it, not for inner satisfaction, not for serving as lesson to Kamui what buttons shouldn’t be pushed. On other hand denying himself what, in all aspects, belongs to him would be inane; not something he had on agenda, especially not when prurience was residual within blood.

In between and betwixt, perhaps those two desires weren’t that exclusive, intersection in manner of domination did exist. One of forcing not only Kamui’s body into submission, but very soul too. Fuuma wet lower lips. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Predatory smirk reached lips, gaze turned into leer; Fuuma added rough grope over waist into mix. Kamui shivered immediately, tried to squeeze legs shut; presumably to calm erection down. Fuuma had no such inhibitions; purposely rubbed their crotches together. Kamui grunted, flush spread over cheeks; Fuuma gazed down to quivering lips, had to control the impulse to lean in and scoop a kiss. It wouldn’t be a peck, it’d be a full blown make-out season; desirable yes, but no space left for romance now; none for slow pace and whispers of devotion.

Kamui closed eyes and tilted head up; stood on tiptoes and clearly expected to be kissed. Fool. Smirk broadened even further, pure triumph coiled within chest.

Right where I want you, unsuspecting and craving.

He abruptly grabbed Kamui by waist. Palms pushed at chest yet all meekly, lacked the bite; Kamui could do better if he truly wanted to break free.

“Fuuma wait! What’s wi - “

In a flash he swirled Kamui around and shoved face into desk. Paper magazine fell down, there was a loud crash of ceramic cup shattering but Fuuma couldn’t care less about that mess at the moment; due to startlement Kamui impulsively stretched arms in front, shoved decorative fake plants down floor as well; oh well, leastwise nothing remained on surface.

Fuuma let eyes roam over Kamui’s body. Unlike front, back was mostly exposed to hungry stares; luckily only his as Kamui was going nowhere in open-back sweater that barley covered ass. Both carnal cravings and leftovers of ire ignited, yet somehow flames fused into desire for domination; for putting Kamui into place yet satisfying his wanton wishes and enormous sexual appetite. Fuuma leaned over Kamui, recaptured wrists and pinned them above head. Free hand toyed with red bow on nape, tracing fingertip over knot like he was going to untie it. Kamui hissed, yet didn’t try to free himself. So fiery yet submissive; perhaps most tempting part of this all was the fact Kamui allowed himself to be dominated.

Cheeky little liar, you want to be hunted like an animal. But are too bashful to admit it either of us, so you’ve opted for provocation in desperate attempt to get ‘punished’. I’ll give you what you want, but first and foremost satisfy my own cravings.

However, Fuuma had qualms whether Kamui was aware of what laid behind his, presumably, impulsive action. Whichever way, he won’t get of the hook so easily, Fuuma would make sure of it.

Lowering over Kamui, Fuuma hushed into his ear -“What if they pushed you down like this, what would you do?”

All hypothetic scenarios, yet he couldn’t stop them from playing out within psyche. Some faceless stranger grabbing Kamui by elbow and dragging into apartment; pushing Kamui down the table and even worse: being horny as he was, Kamui allowing himself to be touched and pleasured. Overwhelming surge of possessiveness and anger emerged at mere imagination. Perhaps said implicit fury kept libidinousness in check for if Kamui was in outfit that kinky under any other circumstances they’d have been on round two by now.

Turning face to side, Kamui rested cheek over desk. Gazed up and regarded him with coy smile. Playful indeed, Fuuma couldn’t wait to put him in place for acting like a brat. Then Kamui spread legs apart, arched back and rubbed ass over his clothed erection. Wordless reply, yet spoke volumes.

Fuuma had to bite back a groan; won’t allow Kamui satisfaction of seeing him affected. Under regular circumstances he’d lavishly praise Kamui for his sexiness and loosen inhibitions; also express urgency to have a taste. But now? No way, all cards will be in his hand.

Sadistic chuckle left Fuuma’s lips. “Figures”, he mocked into Kamui’s nape, then began sliding kisses down spine.

Kamui moaned and writhed at feathery touch; if something so insignificant made him react then he must have been pent-up all along to be this sensitive. And to think Kamui potentially wanted to go out aroused. Hands slid down Kamui’s arms, traveled over sides to waist; palms slid past wool, rested over bare skin. There Fuuma squeezed; simultaneously flickered tongue down Kamui’s spine. High-pitched moan, he arched back and put erotic body of his on display; tried to allure him into temptation. Grip taunted, pained moan left Kamui’s lips. Fuuma squeezed him tighter, at same time grinded against him. Palms shifted a bit higher, red marks could be discerned from where hands were. A pity they’d be gone in mere minutes, bruises left on Kamui’s body could never last. Nonetheless knowledge of them does. Memories of allowing to be tamed and marked will stay with you, of that I have no doubt.

“What a little slut you are, walking around like someone’s wet dream”, Fuuma hushed while tracing pecks and brief sucks down Kamui’s spine; all the way to small of waist where he reached sweater’s hem.

Hmm, should he speed game up? Own arousal urged so, but Fuuma wanted to see how long he could deny Kamui’s desires while keeping own in check. He toyed with hem for a second, let finger slide underneath, just barely to tease; sharp inhale, all in anticipation. Cheeky grin crept up Fuuma’s lips; oh yes, he could and would control Kamui’s libidinous cravings.

Finger retraced from sweater; frustrated groan could be heard instantly; cute, Fuuma though, but won’t grant Kamui what he wants. Fuuma placed fingertip inch above end of tailbone, then oh so slowly glided it up Kamui’s spine; just to let tension build up. Kamui shivered and sweated, whimpered and implicitly urged for more.

Once more Fuuma gripped Kamui’s waist; this time with intention of controlling freedom of movement. Resting knee on desk’s edge, he half knelt over Kamui; lowered over completely and nibbled on earlobe.

“All those men, they love to look. But they can’t touch”

Oh how Kamui whimpered at his voice, it only made Fuuma harden more. Impulsively he rubbed clothed erection against Kamui’s ass; per expected, he wanted to grind back but was unable to. High-pitched moan broke out, one of utter desperation. Fuuma nibbled on earlobe, flickered tongue over it just to hear Kamui whimper again. Nails scraped over heated skin, only enticed Kamui further; he tried to writhe and obtain friction, but couldn’t.

“Do you know why?”, Fuuma let breath hover over Kamui’s cheek.

Waited a second, then growled into ear - “Because you’re mine”

Desperate groan left Kamui’s lips; he tried to rub erection against desk but all in vain, Fuuma stilled him on first thrust; swiftly slid palm down spine and pushed dress down thighs. Ah, he had sneaking suspicion before, but now Fuuma was certain Kamui had no underwear on, not even panties; fire scorched through veins, Fuuma had to inhale to dampen it down. Beyond alluring sight went down to groin, made his cock twitch repetitively. Far from the first time they had sex, yet eagerness and level of desire never wavered; were just as intense as the first time.

Kamui shivered and moaned, arched back and tried to tempt further. Instead of groaning as he’d usual show appreciation, Fuuma let out a devilish chuckle; slid fingertip inside ass crack, all the way down to testicles. Lustful groan combined with rapid thrust mid air, yes they were a delight but Fuuma didn’t plan on satisfying Kamui’s craving so easily or early; he had to earn them.

“Not even panties?”, Fuuma teased and traced finger up to tailbone; skimmed over entrance in process, only to have Kamui writhe and gasp underneath.

Still, mere thought of someone’s shamelessly ogling his lover made Fuuma see red for a moment; let alone if they, for even a second, assume they could touch. Kamui would have their head before Fuuma could even react however; deeply down knew with absolute certainty Kamui wouldn’t allow to be groped by random perverts; never was anything but faithful. Nonetheless, in hypothetical scenario playing out, there… no, merely thinking about it caused additional irritation fueled by protectiveness and possessiveness to surge. For this odd half-roleplay they’ve settled in, more than suitable.

Fuuma removed knee from desk and stood above Kamui; gripped ass cheeks and kneaded them gently at first. Kamui moaned how good touch felt. Yes my dear, be unsuspecting. Grip tautened, fingernails scraped over skin. Moan broke out, gradually altered into scream as pressure intensified.

“Were you hoping someone would grope you like this?”, Fuuma asked firmly, weakened the grip only to squeeze brutally again.

Instead of answering Kamui groaned and stretched arms above head; tried to ground himself on sense of touch.. Whole back was exposed for Fuuma’s hungry stare; heat got to him, he had to unbutton collar; unzip pants too for they felt excruciatingly tight. Boxers had to stay on however, Fuuma doubted he’d be able to prevent himself from slamming into Kamui otherwise. Miffed he may be, but hurting Kamui for real would be uncalled for; something he neither of them wanted. That much he had to keep himself in rein.

Resting palm above groin, Fuuma propped Kamui’s hips up; wool seemed slightly damp over where erection should be, irrefutably Kamui was far more aroused than this amount of foreplay ought to make him. Perhaps being dominated and degraded had more prominent effect than he could anticipate? No matter, Fuuma was grateful for Kamui’s endless sexual appetite. Without sparing second more, Fuuma shoved two finger inside to second knuckle; immediately found out why Kamui was so impatient.

Cheeky grin crept up lips, all self-pleased. Fuuma pushed digits inside to third knuckle; leaned over Kamui and whispered - “Did you finger yourself in the shower?”

No coherent reply, just series of broken mewls and groans. Kamui curved back and began fucking himself on fingers; for time being Fuuma kept digits still, allowed Kamui to pleasure himself. If he were to claim he wasn’t affected by Kamui’s wanton side, he’d be lying. Fuuma felt pulse go rapid, precome dampening boxers and – enough.

This had to stop. With deep exhale he tried to calm alarming level of arousal down; managing to some degree, Fuuma gave Kamui few strokes through sweater then gripped hips and stilled thrusts. As alluring as it is to watch you, I’d rather take control back.

Fuuma eased fingers out, only to slam them back inside. Scream ripped from Kamui’s throat; he tried to grind back but couldn’t. Insides felt loose, with ease he could spread and twist fingers them around. Kamui did a great job of preparing himself, must have taken a while. Within mind Fuuma could picture Kamui, frustrated and horny, trying to find best position to finger himself in; groaning and thrashing around as satisfaction was never reached; could picture water droplets sliding down heated skin, traveling down chest and waist, then teasing even lower; Kamui’s lustful expression and whimper of his name on lips as he – I said enough.

Fuuma hissed sharply and tried to regulate breathing. Arousal scorched inside veins, skin too hot for comfort; beast got unleashed.

Fingers withdrew; Fuuma spread Kamui’s cheek and kissed hole. Flickered tongue over rim but instead of pushing tip in he glided tongue over ass crack to small of back; then sensually licked up spine all the way to nape. Underneath him Kamui was broken mess of pleads and moans; just the way Fuuma loved. He placed lips over Kamui’s neck; nibbled on it before sucking intensely. Simultaneously shoved three fingers inside. Kamui’s body convulsed underneath his, unsystematic mewls and moans falling from lips one after another.

“Were you fantasizing you’re getting fucked?”, Fuuma teased in between the licks and shallow bites.

Prolonged groan from Kamui, followed by high-pitched whine; insides clenched around fingers, Fuuma had to bite back groan of his own. Damn, how much he wished to fuck Kamui relentlessly, it was inhuman; just a little bit more, he’ll endure.

Pace sped up, Fuuma started thrusting fingers in and out repetitively; on each push Kamui grinded back, tried to maximize friction achieved. Sweat rolled down temple, Fuuma was grateful Kamui was moaning and losing himself so much for no way he’d be able to hear how ragged Fuuma’s own breath became. His cock was throbbing at this point, self-control wearing thinner by each moan.

Experimenting with thrusts, Fuuma slowed pace down and curled two fingers. Kamui finally snapped.

“Yes, yes I did!”, Kamui yelled from top of his lungs.

Ah, that delightful voice, he’s been longing to hear it; always so raspy and wretched when they made love. Pity Kamui’s face was concealed from view, but this position was most suitable one for brisk pace and deep swift thrusts; no way he’d go easy on Kamui after that distasteful teasing, point had to be proven. But it won’t be punishment for you, will it? You crave the attention, the roughness and submission. By the time dawn arrives, you’d get your wishes fulfilled, one way or another.

“You’ve been- ahhh b-busy lately”, Kamui managed to murmur in between the gasps and grunts. “We haven’t do-done it… for a w-while”

Cocky smirk reached lips, some of previous anger subdued. Finally Kamui admitted what was evident from start. Really, has it been a week since they last had sex? Fuuma couldn’t believe he lasted that long, especially without noticing (excusable however, seeing as he’s been dead on feet each day in row for close to fortnight now); neglected own lover in a way. No wonder Kamui has been pent up to point of disregarding dignity and seducing him with bratty behavior and provocative clothing.

Explainable, but not excusable. Kamui could have straddled his lap or simply gazed at him with half-lidded eyes and lustful expression – in a heartbeat Fuuma would provide him what both of them itched for. But no, Kamui decided to be bratty and provoke on purpose.

Thumb skimmed over rim, pads massaged inner walls; Fuuma slid free hand inside sweater, encircled fist over Kamui’s erection and rubbed at tip. Kamui moaned loudly, broken yesyesyes and pleasee falling from lips. Reactions stimulating, moans ballad to ears, but Fuuma won’t be stroking him into orgasm; Kamui should consider himself lucky if he gets to cum tonight. One teasing rub, followed by swift stroke; shivers bolted down Kamui’s spine, insides clenched again. Not to risk it and possibly push Kamui over edge, Fuuma released his erection and got up.

Kamui whimpered immediately; turned head around and hushed coarsely - “I got horny and didn’t know what to do…”

Half lidded golden eyes, flushed cheeks, lips parted, saliva dripping from them – he’d never get over erotic expressions Kamui made during sex. Sight went straight to groin, Fuuma felt himself swell even more. Some of anger reemerged too, mostly directed at the fact Kamui could arouse him so deliberately, so effortlessly. Regularly that wouldn’t be an issue, exact opposite, a delight; but it proved to be an hindrance when wanting to establish dominance and control over situation. In far gone state that he was no way Kamui was aware of effect he left, perhaps simply acted on instinct. Whichever way, foreplay had to reach epilogue, otherwise Fuuma feared he might accidentally cum in underwear from sight alone.

“Meaning you became such slut that fingers can no longer satisfy you?”, he demanded, voice velvety.

Kamui gazed back at him with expression so yearning and tantalizing, Fuuma felt resolve shatter bit by bit. Fuck, he should pull erection out, enter Kamui and take him animalistically all until dawn. Reached for elastic band on boxers and – no, not yet.

Emotional satisfaction was as desirable here as sexual, he craved for Kamui’s soul to yield along with body (especially as he presented latter for Fuuma’s touch and gaze long ago); for those reasons Fuuma forced himself to endure a minute or two more. Cupped himself and pressed erection back in desperate attempt to clam it down. It did little help.

“Answer me”, Fuuma insisted rougher this time around; twisted fist around and spread fingers inside of Kamui.

Eyes squeezed shut, eyelashes fluttered over flushed cheeks; so erotic, no way Kamui wasn’t aware of how sexy he looked during sex. Lips quivered, whimper after whimper falling from them. Fuuma eased digits out, only to slam them back in.

He rubbed against that spot. Golden eyes flew open immediately.

“Yes! Fingers can no longer satisfy me!”, Kamui yelled and frantically nodded.

Fuuma smirked. Oh yes, just like that Kamui. Admit only I can satisfy you. Fingers withdrew; slight grunt, otherwise Kamui didn’t react. Easing boxers down hips Fuuma pulled himself out and – ah the chilly room air against heated skin, only made him throb further. Not to mention how Kamui’s pupils fixated on his erection, then abruptly dilated. He groaned and licked lips – damn it, Kamui’s loosen inhibitions and wantonness only hardened him more.

Enough with it.

Fuuma stepped behind Kamui and brought his ass directly against himself; shoved Kamui’s head back into desk. Sensing how rapid pulse down on himself was, Fuuma didn’t want to risk entering Kamui and climaxing in same moment; little bit of additional teasing for sake of buying himself time to dampen down critical levels of arousal within blood wouldn’t hurt. No need to prepare himself, tip was already drenched with precome. Fuuma positioned himself but instead of entering rubbed head over rim. Kamui groaned and tried to thrust back onto him; predictable. Palm rested over small of back and held Kamui in place.

“And what would you say if someone were to do this?”, Fuuma insisted in firmly. Rubbed head over entrance once more to prove the point; electricity bolted down spine, Fuuma inhaled deeply as to ground himself.

Per expected, Kamui tried to turn head around and tempt into giving in with wanton expression. Fuuma raked fingers through his hair and tautened the grip. Even if most of previous ire evaporated from system, desire to tease persisted.

“Fuuma, fuck me pleaseee”, Kamui begged shamelessly, tried to provoke him.

Enticing yes, but not the appropriate answer. Of course noone beside him would ever be doing this to Kamui, that wasn’t up to dispute. But point here was to frustrate Kamui into complete obedience; as well as get him to admit who he belonged to.

“Wrong answer. Try again”, Fuuma commanded, combed through Kamui’s hair as to confuse him with polar opposite approaches. Shifted hips and grinded shaft over ass crack; both of them grunted at electrifying sensation.

“And this time think with your head instead of ass”, Fuuma added mockingly.

Moan or two, but otherwise Kamui kept silent. State of arousal urged Fuuma on, he’d go insane if he had to wait a second more; with the way he was whimpering and writhing, Kamui wasn’t in any better shape. Just unlike him, Fuuma was the one who called the shots. He rubbed tip over rim and insisted.

“Again my little slut, what would you say?”

Kamui let out a mewl, sounded closer to wail. Adorable how far gone he was, but Fuuma won’t give in; he stroked Kamui’s hair as to encourage him to discard little bit of dignity he had left.

“Only Fuuma can do that”, Kamui murmured barely audibly, voice ragged.

“Good boy”, Fuuma rushed out and stroked Kamui’s hair for a split second. Not wasting a moment more, grabbed Kamui by hips and swiftly entered to the hilt.

“Ahhhh – yes yes, ohmygoshyesss!”

Remotely Fuuma discerned Kamui screamed; yet heard none of it.

World narrowed. Nothing existed other than utter pleasure shooting through veins. Complete victory, he couldn’t focus on anything other than how to get more. Fuuma growled, eased erection out until only head was in; then slammed inside. Pulled out again; pushed at full speed. Again. And again.

On each thrust Kamui groaned and grinded back; Fuuma could feel how insides clenched around his cock on every push, how close actually both of them were. Of no matter, he’d be damned if he stopped now. Fuuma briefly pulled out; taunted grip over Kamui’s hips, levitated ass up air; no need to instruct Kamui, he arched back on his own; tried to make himself as erotic and desirable as possible.

Then Kamui glanced coyly backwards and moaned his name. Last fraction of self-control shattered.

Fuuma thrust back into him; brutally, without care for anything. Thankfully for both, Kamui had fair share of masochistic tendencies, hence relished in rough treatment. At one particular rough thrust Kamui shuddered and screamed; insides clamped down on him rather hard, Fuuma had to pause for few seconds as to delay orgasm.

“Harder pleasee!”, Kamui begged breathlessly and shifted hips repetitively; tried to mimic thrusts as he was held still and obtain pleasure.

“Did I allow you to thrash around?”, Fuuma asked firmly and pulled out.

Of course, need for domination and discipline served as ulterior motive, simply a way to buy himself some time. Kamui mewled and turned head around to glare at him; with flushed face, disheveled hair and bruised lips, he appeared more debauched than intimidating.

“Damn it Fuuma, stop being a tease!”, Kamui hissed at him. Wrong move.

Cute but Fuuma didn’t have disobedience in plan. Fuuma lowered hands from hipbones to ass cheeks; massaged them for a second, all with ulterior motive of deceiving Kamui into false sense of security. Spank echoed through room; only afterwards did Kamui scream.

“Still didn’t learn how to behave?”, Fuuma scolded while gripping cheeks; scraped nails over skin firm enough for stings to emerge. Kamui relished in that ache, Fuuma was intimately acquainted with his masochistic side.

“Do I have to bend you over knee and spank?”

“No…”, soft moan, it set fire within veins.

Fuuma was partially expecting Kamui to ask to be spanked. Won’t some as a surprise, they both knew intimately well how enticing Kamui responded to controlled pain during sex. Oh well, some other time for sure, but now he had other priorities at hand. Fuuma hastily unbuttoned shirt and pushed it down shoulders; leaned over Kamui until no space was left between their bodies; Kamui’s skin was as equally heated and sweaty.

“If so then behave”, Fuuma hushed and kissed Kamui’s shoulder; skin tasted salty under lips. Without a warning slammed inside.

Before Kamui could scream Fuuma shoved two fingers inside his mouth; pushed them in and out in tandem with thrusts. Other hand went under sweater; immediately latched onto nipples. Already erected, Fuuma realized pleasingly; rolled left one in one direction, then another; grasped between thumb and index finger and pulled. Muffled moan passed lips, insides clenched down on him; Fuuma squeezed eyes shut and grunted, forced himself to slower the pace. Fuuma positioned fingers over tongue and thrust them deeper down throat; simultaneously glided thumb over nipple and pressed down. Wheeze followed by desperate gasp, Kamui sank fangs into fingers.

Pain surged; unlike ache when Kamui bites his neck, this one didn’t arouse, simply hurt. Good, otherwise he’d be pushed over edge, no doubt about that. Fuuma kept himself as deep as possible, barely eased out on backward thrusts; on each push made sure head brushed against prostate. Kamui whimpered and writhed, tried to catch up with the pace. Fangs caught over wound again, Fuuma winced; stilled thrusts for a second and pulled fingers out Kamui’s throat.

“Lick them clean”, he commanded coarsely.

Kamui obeyed immediately; flickered tongue up fingertips, licked trails of blood. Fuuma pinched his nipple rather hard, just to hear him moan. Tongue traced up digit, lapped over sensitive skin between middle and index finger; then poked into bite-mark.

Ah, sweet ache shot through body, only served as further stimulation; strange how touch on such mundane places could arouse so. If possible he swelled even more, pulse down on erection going rapid. Fuuma squeezed eyes shut an hissed as – ah to hell with holding back. Without a warning he shoved fingers past Kamui’s lips; bit Kamui’s nape and began fucking him for real.

Thrusts gained speed and ferocity; by no means did Fuuma hold back. On each push insides squeezed around him; so tight, so hot. More. On each pull head rubbed over rim; sensitive spot, Kamui writhed each time. He overpowered Kamui entirely, trapped between desk and his far larger body; the heat between them, it was unbearable, so alluring. More. Fuuma shifted hips, changed angle of thrusts; aimed to rub against that one spot that set Kamui aflame. Must have found it as Kamui’s whole body suddenly shook; thighs trembled, lips squeezed and sucked over fingers. More. Just a bit more. With free hand Fuuma aggressively rubbed and pinched nipples, tried to drive Kamui insane with pleasure; positioned thumb over left one and mercilessly pushed. Kamui mewled, would have screamed if weren’t for fingers inside mouth.

Fuuma let out a growl. Triumph surged; pleasure both sexual and of emotional kind. Primal craving fulfilled, Kamui was completely dominated, physically and mentally. Kamui let out a wail, followed by series of muffled whimpers; his whole body sweated and trembled; felt so so good. Shifting head from nape to ear, Fuuma hushed praises into Kamui’s ear; not like those words were processed, Kamui was in far to gone state to focus on anything but carnal pleasure imposed on him. Leaned forwards even more, let breath ghost over Kamui’s cheek; licked tear and placed kiss below eye. Pulled erection entirely, waited few seconds; then entered to the hilt.

“You’ve been a bad boy, you know that?”, Fuuma whispered next to Kamui’s cheek; broken moan in response, it was all Kamui could mutter in the moment. Pity his face was concealed from view, it must be out of wet dreams.

Nails scraped over nipples; Fuuma tries to systematically push and pull them, but lost focus. Arousal was eating him alive as well, lust scorching within blood. Minor miracle he hasn’t climaxed so far, given he didn’t have any release for over a week; still, with how heated and swollen to point of aching his cock was, Fuuma knew he wouldn’t last for too long.

Kamui tried to rub himself over desk but couldn’t; it’ll be beyond arousing to see him cum over himself like an animal, completely untouched. Saliva coaxed fingers, tongue chaotically swirled one direction then another; clearly Kamui had troubles catching up with pace; evidently overwhelmed. I would have granted any depraved wish of yours, all you had to do was ask. However not in bratty way you did.

Heat rushed to groin, pulse down on himself going mile per hour; grunt and groans were impossible to be contained, Fuuma was no longer in control of himself. Yet still, he craved the domination, the utter power over this one special person who tried to turn tables on him; tried to wake up a beast inside of him. A bit deeper, he itched for more.

Strangely enough, he was denying Kamui that depraved desire but somehow ended up fulfilling it. He should pull away and reestablish the power dynamic and – electricity bolted down spine, sweet ache spread through veins.

To hell with teasing. Dominance allured, but sexual gratification and urgency of his desire did just as equally. Just a few more thrusts and he’ll finally obtain the sweetest release. Kamui was close too, Fuuma could feel how he trembled and whimpered; how saliva dripped down lips as he thrust fingers in and out. How insides clenched around him, how amazing it all felt; threatened to bring him over edge at any second. Just a little bit more and -

No.

Not like this.

I want this sense of domination and triumph to last.

At last moment Fuuma gathered enough willpower to control his desire; all because he’d be controlling Kamui’s in process too. Heartbeat later withdrew in all senses; stood up and pressed palm over himself as to calm erection down. Seconds away from orgasm, he could see the pulse down on his cock; great timing indeed. Fuuma rubbed fingers down trousers, tried to clean saliva and remains of blood; leastwise focus himself on anything but how alluring Kamui’s body looked.

Few more seconds passed before Kamui grasped onto lack of sensations. The moment he did -

“Nooo!”, scream echoed around them. Kamui raised on elbows and turned around.

Ah that sight, if it didn’t make him cum immediately then nothing would. From flushed cheeks to debauched appearance, there wasn’t a thing Fuuma didn’t like. Half-lidded golden eyes gazed up at him, prurience and desperation clear as day in them. Saliva slid down chin, lips bruised and parted as he desperately tried to regain breath; wasn’t the only one, Fuuma could barely regulate his panting and pulse. Red sweater still covered most of front but was hoisted up to stomach, revealed exactly how hard and yearning Kamui was.

Damn it, don’t look so tempting.

“Ah, don’t stop… Fuuma p-please”, Kamui managed to whisper in between the panting; levitated arms towards him, irrefutable invitation.

Beg went down to his groin, Fuuma had to clench muscles on stomach to prevent himself from cumming on spot. No, this had to stop. The sooner, the better. Control had to be establish, point to be proven; game was still on after all. And don’t think for a second I’ll let you win.

Wrapping one arm around waist and other under thighs, Fuuma scooped Kamui up. How his body was so light yet held so much power and strength, Fuuma had no clue. Startled yelp passed lips but Kamui didn’t protest for real; even rested palms on his chest and gazed up coyly. So tantalizing, Fuuma could barely resist.

Kamui swallowed and cleaned his throat, clearly wanted to say something. Fuuma placed finger over his lips and whispered huskily - “Shh, let me take you to bed”

In couple of second they made it to the bedroom. Fuuma gently lowered Kamui down sheets; tried to raise himself up but Kamui wrapped arms around shoulders and pulled him in; moaned his name and tried to urge on. Ah, beyond obvious what Kamui wants. Fuuma desperately wished to take him relentlessly again too and he will – but on his and his terms only.

Brief kiss on lips distracted Kamui, lured into false sense of safety with predictability. With ease Fuuma pulled away.

“Be a good boy and wait for me”

With that Fuuma turned away from bed and strolled towards closet. Involuntary shivered for sweat already dried on naked chest; cold night indeed. Still, same couldn’t be said for his lower body; uncomfortable to pace around with unzipped pants and erection out on open, but hell would freeze over before he’d tuck himself back into pants when this hard. Fuuma took a chance to glance down on himself. Damn, he could hardly recall seeing his cock this swollen or angry shade of red; no wonder he was throbbing so much. Of no matter, he’ll obtain release very soon, could endure until then; willpower flared up by primal desire for domination, otherwise he doubted this much resolve would be found. Brutality of orgasm and sexual delight will be salacious, but they alone would provide no inner relish, just one of body.

We can do better than that, don’t we Kamui?

Kneeling down he pushed aside few boxes and – ah there it is. Fuuma hooked finger into bag and drew it closer; hastily rummaged until fingertips glided over something fluffy. Ah yes, exactly what he needed. Fuuma eased on pair of plush red handcuffs; wasting no time searched for other pair and matching set of keys. With divided attention payed attention to lewd sounds filling the room; one of strokes over skin and badly muffled groans. Needn’t turn around and check visually, Fuuma knew for the fact Kamui was touching himself.

Sadistic grin crept up lips, almost predatory. Fuuma was no fool, he knew Kamui’s libidinous nature and poor resistance to temptation rather well. Bait was purposely laid and he fell for it; like a moth to the flame. Every break or rules craved punishment and leftovers of rage he felt before were more than enough to provide necessary ruthlessness and dominance for that.

Gathering all items needed Fuuma raised up; turned around and confirmed his suspicions. With dress shoved up chest, Kamui was pinching nipple with one hand and stroking himself with other; barely audible grunts and moans falling from lips, yet still detectable. Quite a sight, Fuuma felt his own cock twitch in response; it had to reach epilogue soon (such buzzkill if Kamui got to orgasm now, it’ll spoil vast majority of what Fuuma had in store for him). Seeing as Kamui’s eyes were squeezed shut as pleasure washed over features, Fuuma took a chance to sneak up to him.

One step. Then another. In a heartbeat he seized Kamui’s wrist. Golden eyes flew open, startlement and lust equally palpable in them.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?”, Fuuma scolded; even went as far to narrow eyes and frown, all to establish dominance over someone who very much was epitome of headstrongness.

In a flash Fuuma handcuffed wrist to bed frame; pushed key in and sealed the cuffs. Kamui thrashed around instantly. Could break free anytime with that vampire strength of his if he wanted to; pair of toy cuffs meant for bedroom were no match for him. They both knew protest was just for show, nothing more; only ignited fire from within.

“I need to cum so so much!”, Kamui yelled and glared at him. Miffed yes, but retorts lacked the bite.

Kamui bolted free hand down to his cock; grabbed tip and stroked with such ferocity and swiftness Fuuma thought he’d orgasm from first jerk alone. With ease Fuuma captured that wrist too. Needless to say, if Kamui were really putting up a fight he’d be one handcuffed to bed; telltale little minx yearned to be beaten into submission, craved this roughness and discipline; to be punished like an animal. You’ll evoke a hunter within me disobedient like that. I guess that’s what you’ve wanted from the very start, just didn’t have enough dignity to ask directly.

Lowering tone even more, Fuuma scolded once more - “Such a brat, you never listen”

Both wrist ended up cuffed to bed; Kamui tested restrains but quickly concluded they won’t budge; was forced to lay down and accept his fate. Fuuma rested palm on his stomach, skimmed it up and hoisted sweater up chest as far as material allowed. Before Fuuma had chance to intake erotic sight, Kamui rested foot over chest and kicked; all meek for he knew exactly how brutally Kamui could shove him backwards if full strength was used; nothing but kitten play, however teasing had flame on its own.

“Fuck, I was so close! Let me go!”, Kamui protested and thrashed around.

Ah, they were back at square one, weren’t they? Apparently Kamui could be docile only when he had fingers or cock down his ass for otherwise even when aroused there was hardly taming him.

Fuuma gripped his chin and brought them face to face.

“Behave”, he threatened; made sure tone was deep enough to send shivers down Kamui’s spine.

Nonetheless that didn’t put him in place. Kamui glared and hissed back - “Fucking sadist”

Disobedience both irritated and enticed. Temptation to slam inside Kamui and fuck him like an animal was too damn high; being bratty and horny as he was, Kamui would relish in that brutality and briskness. They’ve had fast rough sex countless times before, one more repeat would be desirable but satisfactory only from hormonal perspective. Sight allured too much, Fuuma had to get up from bed.

He paced towards bag; knelt down and searched for toy that could serve as further punishment. Flogger? Nah, they weren’t in doggy style anymore. Butt plug? Kamui would cum in a second if anything entered him now. Vibrator and anal beads were also a no. That elegant red collar with bow would look breathtaking but he’d have to untie Kamui to take turtleneck off him right now. Something leather under fingers, Fuuma fetched it and -

Ah, this one could do. Kamui hated (but loved the resulting sensations; cheeky little liar) anything that served as orgasm denial, especially cock-rings; this time he’ll absolutely lose it. If I monopolize all your desires, I wonder how much would pass before my name is only thing on your mind. I wonder how far up high can you go. Cheeky grin reached lips, anticipation surged. Fuuma got up and returned to bed; sat beside Kamui’s waist and caressed him; fooled.

“You’re basically begging to be punished”, Fuuma whispered velvety and combed through Kamui’s hair; drenched in sweat, even a bit knotty, only logical given what they’ve been doing until now.

Kamui closed eyes and moaned; rapidly thrust hips up air and tried to reach orgasm. Level of his desperation was adorable, only begged to be teased more. Fuuma kept on petting and caressing Kamui, all over non-erogenous zoned; gave Kamui no means of reaching orgasm. The moment Fuuma concluded Kamui relaxed even a tiny bit, he changed the tactic.

Hand bolted down to Kamui’s erection; immediately prolonged moan passed lips. Kamui’s eyes flew open, pupils dilated; silent begs on lips yet no need to express desires verbally, expression and yearning in eyes spoke volumes. Instead of stroking into orgasm, Fuuma wrapped leather over base; only when snap fell in place did Kamui realize what has happened.

“Damn you to hell”, Kamui hissed; glared and squirmed around, all meek effort to break free.

Kamui’s feisty attitude only served as further incitement. There were no more reasons to postpone his urgency anymore; Fuuma got up and swiftly eased trousers and boxers down legs; socks followed shortly afterwards. The way Kamui was sizing him up, shamelessly letting eyes roam over his body – only added more fuel to fire; they’ve had fair share of kinky prolonged foreplay and pauses during sex, this wasn’t anything novel; yet Fuuma could scarcely recall ever being this aroused, this hard and aching.

Kamui fixated gaze down on his cock, blushed and licked lips. Bold indeed; Fuuma leered at him and chuckled. He’d be damned if he waits a second more. Fuuma walked around bed and sat between Kamui’s spreed legs.

Damn the sight, no amount of fantasizing could prepare him for erotic Kamui could look when sexually frustrated and constantly having his desires denied; desperation suited him well, especially when Kamui’s insatiable appetite was added into mix.

He knelt and raised up; purposely loomed over Kamui, served difference in their positions as reminder who called the shots here. Fuuma let eyes roam over Kamui’s body in similar starved fashion Kamui checked him out minute prior; didn’t bother hiding inhibitions, let Kamui feel intensity of predatoriness and carnality in it.

“Watch your mouth. I’m not letting you go until you learn how to behave”

Kamui shuddered at lowness of tone. Yes, show me how affected you really are. Fuuma gripped Kamui’s thighs and lifted legs up; hooked them over shoulders. Kamui gasped, his pupils dilated; surely expected to be penetrated at any moment given position they were in. Cock-ring wouldn’t be enough to prevent Kamui from cumming, Fuuma knew that for the fact; as desirable as fucking Kamui senseless for hours and hours would be, it’ll be equally addicting to be in full control of Kamui’s wants and body. For that reason he’d delay second round of penetrative sex for hour or so.

Fuuma pushed Kamui’s legs together; instead of entering him pushed cock between his thighs. Leaned over Kamui, bent his legs at knees and started thrusting erection in between thighs.

Ah the utter bliss, the ecstasy spreading through veins; victorious smile reached lips, Fuuma closed eyes and smirked. Clearly didn’t feel as amazing as thrusting inside Kamui’s ass or mouth was, but definitely beat jacking off. Still, the novelty and kinkiness act spiced things up, Fuuma knew immediately he’d last for minute top. Especially with the way Kamui was gazing up at him, pleading look drenched in raw desperation; Fuuma couldn’t recall Kamui ever gazing at him with that much prurience.

“Ahh,-ha, you h-have no… clue h-how sexy you lo-look”, Fuuma praised, voice broken in tandem with thrusts; even to his own ears voice sounded way too wretched, way too coarse.

Tip caught between thighs on each pull; he was so sensitive underneath head, each time sparks ignited. On each push Fuuma groaned; squeezed eyes and watched white dots play behind eyelids. Precome formed at slit, some even slid down thighs to Kamui’s erection; temptation to rub their cocks together was high, but Fuuma forced himself to recall original goal.

One particular thrust sent electricity down spine; Fuuma closed eyes and growled. In surge of utter pleasure didn’t notice how rough he was gripping Kamui’s thighs until he started moaning and writhing underneath. Such enticing reaction, Fuuma craved a repeat. He dug fingernails into skin and sped up trusts.

Kamui’s back arched from mattress; eyes flew wide open and saliva slid down lips; gasp after moan falling from them, all ballad to ears; only aroused Fuuma more. Sweat and shivers covered body, all heat rushed to groin; it was all dead game now, only matter of time when he’ll be pushed over edge. Fuuma brought Kamui’s legs as close to himself as possible; picked up pace and stated thrusting towards climax. Kamui’s body shook due to intensity of his thrusts; things squeezed tighter around him, sensation so overwleming it was a wonder how he has’t climaxed from it. Growl ripped from throat; in response Kamui whimpered and mewled.

So enchanting. So breathtaking. So mine.

“You b-belong – ah, to me Kamui, don’t e-ever… forget that”, Fuuma reminded hoarsely.

Kamui didn’t vocalize approval but squeezed eyes shut and nodded frantically. He could do better, but when lust at what little of coherent thoughts were left, Fuuma decided it was good enough.

Room around lost its color, nothing existed except two of them and raw lust within veins. Muscles on lower stomach clenched, telltale he’s alarmingly close to orgasm. Fuuma let eyes wader over Kamui’s body. More. Mostly naked chest, glistering due to sweat; oscillating up and down in rhythm with his thrusts, nipples stood up erected, pleading to be played with; he will very soon. Now he needed more. Just a few more pushes. More. Sweater hoisted up to chest and neck, color matching one of fur on handcuffs; arms restrained above head, only made Kamui appear more submissive and docile. Pulse on himself went rapid, Fuuma could feel cock twitch uncontrollably. Harder, just a bit more. Gaze lowered to Kamui’s lewd expression and -

Wave of pleasure toppled over edge. Fuuma knew once he halted all movements he’d start cumming. He closed eyes and welcomed the sensation. One thrust, then couple of swift and ferocious few more before he stilled. World shattered around him. All Fuuma could see was black.

No amount of fantasizing could prepare him for brutality of that orgasm. In one wave he started releasing long and hard down on Kamui; some of cum caught on thighs and stomach, but most ended over Kamui’s face and chest. Speed must have caught him of guard for he didn’t even close his eyes and mouth. Fuuma held Kamui’s thighs in place while he was pumping even more seed; he couldn’t recall ever climaxing this long, perhaps holding back for a week had some benefits to it. Orgasm so self-shattering whole body went numb; vision blurred at edges, distantly Fuuma heard someone groan but couldn’t tell who. Even if he no more semen was released, Fuuma still felt his cock pulse, was still going through orgasm.

Little death indeed.

World stopped. Nothing existed for couple of seconds beside rapid hammering of his heart. Nothing but sweetest post-coital bliss within veins. Nothing but panting and sweat cooling down on heated skin. Vision returned gradually. Fuuma wiped sweat from forehead and showed bangs backwards; shower will be dire need later on. He felt so satisfied, yet so so numb and detached. Remotely Fuuma concluded he was grinning all along. Maybe he should let post-orgasmic euphoria sedate entirely and -

“Please”, desperation in Kamui’s voice grounded him back to reality.

Fuuma finally properly looked at Kamui. Debauched was first thing that came to mind. Understatement to say Kamui was covered with semen; so thick and sticky, given how mind-blowing and long orgasm felt, no wonder he came bucket. Dress was officially ruined, no amount of washing would save it at this point. Kamui’s release was yet to be granted however; with how swollen and red his erection seemed, Fuuma couldn’t help wondering if leather ring would serve any purpose. Sniffle caught attention, momentarily made him bold gaze from groin to face.

Tears slid down flushed cheeks. Lips quivered and eyes glistered; all due to denied sexual gratification, all frustration.

“Fuuma please”, Kamui pleaded, voice beyond wretched. If it weren’t for refractory period, Fuuma knew without a doubt he’d get hard in a second.

Instead of fulfilling Kamui’s urgent desires, Fuuma got up, paced around bed and leaned over Kamui. Hope flashed over features instantly; fool. Do you really thinking one I got drunk on utter sense of power I’ll hand it over so freely?

Fuuma chuckled; let fingers trace over cuffs. Sinister grin crept up lips; without a warning got up.

He ignored lewd calls of his name; strolled straight to the bathroom. Better do this quick if he didn’t want Kamui’s patience to wear thin and snap; it’d bring such anticlimactic epilogue to their bed play but it’ll be fair, he’d have no rights to protest if his lover called for the halt. Fuuma drenched one corner of towel, then hastily cleaned himself. Washed face for a second and returned to the bedroom.

Thankfully Kamui remained cuffed to the bed; everything was in place. Fuuma sat beside Kamui and rubbed semen from his face; one on chest, waist and thighs could stay however, not like they won’t be taking shower later on.

Whimper after whimper passed lips; needn’t say anything, Fuuma could read him like open book. Especially now, when Kamui was aroused to point of crying and begging. He bent legs backwards and tried to rub erection over own tight; such desperate move it was more amusing; but just as enticing. Fuuma pushed his legs down and regarded Kamui with cheeky grin. Instead of hissing and glaring he teared up. So adorable, how much Fuuma wished to tease him more, it was inhuman.

“You know Kamui”, Fuuma began nonchalantly as he got up from bed.

Strolled towards bag with sex toys; crouched down and rummaged through it once again. Behind him Kamui moaned and pleaded further; he knew intimately well what depravities laid in this beg, of course Kamui put two and two together. Yes my dear, game is just getting started.

“You should have through about consequences of your actions a bit more”

Something silken skimmed over hand. Fuuma caught one end and pulled cloth out. Ah the blindfold; yes this one could do. Even if he preferred observing Kamui’s lewd reactions, sensory deprivation would only heighten the stakes by arbitrariness of touch.

Their bedroom wasn’t too big, meaning Kamui saw what he held in hand. High-pitched whimper confirmed that suspicion. Fuuma grinned sadistically. Post-orgasmic bliss was slowly evaporating from system, very soon he’d be up for round two.

“You should have thought a bit more what game you were starting before provoking me”, Fuuma kept on his monologue while searching for more items. All impact play toys were out of question in this position; yes he could spank Kamui’s thighs but relish laid in playing with his ass too. No matter, some other time.

“You craved to be stripped of all dignity and principles, fucked roughly like a slut that you pretend not to be but at very core are”

Still, sadism from within evoke; he might have decided to not whip Kamui with anything, but Kamui didn’t know that. For those reasons Fuuma eased out nastiest looking tail whip. Far more skill on his side would be needed for properly handling this one with care (as well as aftercare that was needed); maybe one day, but certainly not now. Fuuma purposely lifted toy up; from room’s other corner heard Kamui gasp.

“And we both know it”, Fuuma accented words by experimentally flogging whip mid air; snap echoed through the room.

He partly expected Kamui to seriously retort or beg for him to not use toy as brutal as that one; but that didn’t happen. Fuuma shoved hand into bag and tried to find something he’d really use. Hand brushed against something raw cold, instantly made him hiss. Ah, temperature and sensation play in one, that one would work amazingly with blindfold. Fuuma retrieved metal pinwheel from bag but pushed it on night table behind lamp; concealed from view. Now, they could start once again.

This time completely on Fuuma’s terms. No longer was he aching and aroused of his mind, seduced by Kamui’s coy yet provocative invitations. This time he was in full control over himself whereas Kamui was one whose blood was boiling with lust.Tables have switched in my favor, I’m afraid.

“So don’t pretend otherwise, my dear”, Fuuma whispered in honeyed tone. Gathered tail whip and black blindfold and paced back to bed.

Fuuma sat beside Kamui’s head; whipped tear sliding down cheek with thumb and combed through bangs. Kamui’s eyes fixated nowhere in particular, perhaps he was far to gone to concentrate on anything. Pushing bangs aside, Fuuma leaned in and kissed his forehead; then placed blindfold over face and fastened behind head. Sight straight out of wet dreams, Fuuma felt first stings of arousal emerge. Kamui whimpered and squirmed around a bit, but otherwise remained obedient; nothing else was optional, perhaps Kamui finally grasped he should behave, lay back and look as alluring as possible. Good, Fuuma intook with delight.

Allow me to give you and deny you what you want.

“Now lay back and enjoy your punishment”

[redrobbingabank]

Syndicate Foster AU Chapter One

No one knew much about Philza Minecraft. Ranboo was pretty sure that that was because Philza Minecraft wanted it that way, and what Philza Minecraft wanted, he got. 

Not in a bad way. The man was a good one, an oxymoron in the world of rich people Ranboo saw on the news when he bothered to watch it. He didn’t come up often––that’s what happens when you choose not to be known––but Ranboo had yet to see him wrapped up in any sort of scandal.

The list of unknowns about Philza was long to anyone outside his circle, and for Ranboo, it had just gotten longer. As he sat in the chair outside the social worker’s office, purple backpack hugged close in his lap, he couldn’t get the question out of his mind: Why in the world would some billionaire choose to foster a teenager?

Fostering anyone was enough of a question. Fostering a sixteen year old, only two years away from ageing out, was downright baffling.

Ranboo picked at a hangnail. It didn’t matter how he turned it over in his head. It just didn’t make sense. The whole thing felt far too weird, and not nearly real enough.

He looked past his worn out sneakers to the hallway around him. The linoleum floor was peeling where it met the wall, and the wall’s paint wasn’t faring much better. Everything was the same shade of grey, like snow when it turned into slush. Through the confused haze filling his mind, Ranboo hoped Philza’s house had some sort of color.

The door opening next to him made Ranboo jump. His social worker stepped out first, followed by Philza. Ranboo shot to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Philza smiled at him. “You ready to go, mate?” He was shorter than Ranboo. Ranboo did not like being taller than Philza Minecraft.

He nodded silently. Philza had a manilla folder in his hand. Ranboo’s file, holding everything the system needed him to know about the kid he was fostering. Ranboo had never actually gone through it himself. He’d never had a reason to, but now, knowing someone else had seen it, he was curious. What did it say? Did it list his problems? If it did, was his insomnia one of them?

His social worker smiled at him. “You’re all set, Ranboo,” she said. “I hope you have a good experience.” The last part was quiet, meant for Ranboo alone. There was no reason to plant doubt in Philza’s head about his parenting skills.

Ranboo felt his throat closing up. He’d never been around Ms. Parks much, past the times she handled his movements between houses, but she was still the most constant figure in his life. “Thanks, Ms. Parks,” he said tightly. 

Philza gestured towards the elevator. Time to leave again, to go blindly to a new home with no idea how long it would last. Tightening his grip on the backpack’s strap, Ranboo led the way in and pressed the button for the ground floor. They were quiet on the way down, on the walk through the lobby, out the doors, and to the black limousine waiting out front. Philza gestured for Ranboo to get in first, then sat down across from him.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, nodding at the backpack.

Ranboo, who’d become a little transfixed by the striped green bucket hat Philza hadn’t taken off since… ever, actuall, now that he thought about it, scrambled to answer. “I–��uh––yeah.” He glanced down at the bag self-consciously. Was it not enough? Was he supposed to have more?

Philza didn’t look mad at him. He just smiled and said, “We’ll go get you some more stuff soon, then.” 

Ranboo froze. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, Mr. Minecraft, it’s fine, really. I don’t need anything else––”

Philza held up a hand, and Ranboo fell silent. “First, you can just call me Phil, mate. Second, I want to. We need to get you a uniform for school too, and a laptop, I bet.”

A laptop? A uniform? Ranboo was starting to wish they’d told him what being fostered by Philza Minecraft would involve. “I’m sorry… a school uniform? Why do I need a uniform?” Panic started climbing in his throat. He’d assumed that he’d just be going to the same school he’d attended for the past few years.

Apparently, Phil planned differently. “You’re going to go to Kinoko High School,” he explained. “It’s where Techno and Niki go to school. Speaking of, are you ready to meet them? Do you have any questions?”

Technoblade and Niki Nihachu, Phil’s two adopted children. No one knew where they’d come from. The two were unrelated, but shared the same shockingly pink hair and hatred for the media. Unfortunately for Ranboo, that hatred cut off his mental profile there. Everything else on the internet about the two was speculation and rumors. Actually… 

“Is it true that Niki punched a reporter once?” he asked tentatively.

He’d been worried Phil would get defensive. It wasn’t really his business, after all, what the Minecraft children did. But, much to his surprise, Phil laughed. “It is,” he said. “But the reporter had it coming. She’s really very nice when you get to know her, as long as you’re not a dick.”

Naturally, Ranboo immediately began going through everything he’d ever done to see if he’d committed some terrible atrocity that had slipped through the cracks in his memory. He was tempted to ask what exactly the reporter had done, just to compare it to his life, but decided to leave it alone for the day, and offered a weak chuckle of his own to match Phil’s.

“Techno’s a good kid too, of course,” Phil added. “Just… they’re both a bit quiet. They’ll probably give you plenty of space.”

“Oh.” Ranboo bobbed his head, hoping it would suffice as a reaction. It was actually a relief to hear that he wouldn’t be expected to integrate into the role of sibling immediately. The day was already making him tired, and the feeling only intensified as he looked ahead to his arrival at the house. House? He suddenly realized he didn’t know where Phil lived.

“Where are we driving?” he asked, looking out the window. It was all the same buildings he knew, rising above eye level into the sky. Secretly, he hoped for a house somewhere a little away from the city. A big backyard sounded cool. And a dog. A dog would be nice.

Alas, it wasn’t meant  to be. “Pog Tower,” Phil said. “We’ve got the penthouse at the top.” The route they’d been driving towards the center of the city suddenly made sense.

“Oh,” Ranboo said, and sank a little farther into the seat cushions. Not that he wasn’t grateful. It would be better than the monotones of the group home, at least. Maybe they had a cat, or a fish. It would be great.

His time to convince himself of that dwindled even faster as the limo pulled into the semicircle drive in front of the tower. Big plants lined the sidewalk and stairs, flowy green leaves going all the way to the big revolving glass doors. Ranboo had the sudden feeling that his stomach had dropped into hell and left the rest of him behind.

His legs felt like nerveless attachments as he got out of the car, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. Phil walked around the car and stopped next to him. He glanced at Ranboo. “Ready?”

Considering how much he felt like an ant right now, Ranboo was getting very scared of how much time he was going to spend at the top of this building. What if he fell out a window? How long would it take him to hit the ground and become a grease spot?

“Yeah,” he said, and cringed. His voice had gone up an octave.

Phil gave him a sympathetic look. “Let’s go, then,” he said kindly, and led the way inside.

The lobby was even nicer than the entrance. The floor was all marble tile, spanning what had to be at least half the bottom floor of the tower. A receptionist sat at a kiosk-desk-thing in the center of the room. It had a top made of smooth black glass. Behind her, an elevator with gold-looking doors taller than Ranboo was centered in the wall.

Phil walked past the receptionist with a smile and a nod, which she returned. On his way past, Ranboo tried to mimic the greeting, but it ended up as an awkward ducking of his head. The receptionist smiled anyway. She was paid to do that.

Just that small screw up made the trip to the elevator feel like an eternity. It was an astronomical relief when the doors shut, Phil leaning forward to insert a key into the slot beside the switchboard and press the button that would take them to the top floor. 

“You don’t need to talk to anyone if you don’t want to, when you’re coming in,” he told him when he straightened back up, slipping the key back into his suit pocket. 

“Oh. Cool.” In Ranboo’s head, he sighed loudly. It was probably just him, but he felt like living on the tower was going to take a lot more social interaction than he was used to.

The elevator ascended fast enough to give Ranboo the free-fall sensation of a roller coaster before slowing down and stopping with a pleasant ding!. Ranboo had time to exhale once more before the doors were sliding open, and he was greeted by a living room bigger than the cafeteria at the group home, currently occupied by two teenagers arguing over a binder on the glass coffee table. At the elevator’s chime, they abruptly cut off. The girl slammed the binder shut, and they both turned to face him.

Niki Nihachu and Technoblade looked as similar as they were different. Niki came up to Techno’s shoulder. She had on a black sweater and jeans, pink hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her build was that of a distance runner’s. Ranboo vaguely remembered some old photo posted of her at a track meet.

Technoblade had a pair of thin-framed glasses and grey sweats. His braided hair was long enough that when he’d spun around, it whipped over his shoulder. Dark bags hung under his eyes, though they were sharp and analytical as he looked at Ranboo. The crumpled Monster cans next to him offered an explanation.

No one spoke for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally, Phil waved. “Hey guys, this is Ranboo.” Ranboo felt a piece of his soul shrivel up and die.

Techno and Niki looked at Phil. They looked at Ranboo, then looked at each other. Then, the two lifted their hands and gave him a perfectly synchronized wave. Were they sure they weren’t twins? “Hey, Ranboo,” Niki said.

“Um. Hi. Did you guys practice that?” Ranboo asked nervously, clutching the backpack’s strap tighter. 

“Yeah,” Techno said, grinning. Ranboo felt slightly less scared. “We thought it was funny.”

Ranboo bobbed his head wordlessly. What could he say? If he’d been watching and not scared out of his mind, he’d agree. 

“Guys, maybe avoid the pretending to be psychically connected for a few days,” Phil said.

“This happens often?” Ranboo squeaked.

Niki shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

The pair hadn’t moved from in front of the coffee table, both in positions that prevented Ranboo from looking at the binder they’d been fighting over. He glanced between the two, but their faces betrayed nothing except for calm friendliness.

“Well,” Phil interrupted the silence, stepping to the side, “Your room is upstairs. I can show you where it is, and you can hang out up there or down here until dinner. It’s whatever you want, really.”

Thank god, an opportunity to hide. Ranboo almost led the way to the stairs, but stopped himself. “Sure,” he said. Then to Techno and Niki, “It was nice meeting you.” Was that okay to say to new siblings? It was probably stupid.

Niki grinned. It was a sharp expression on her face. “Nice to meet you too.” She and Techno watched Phil and Ranboo until they were at the top of the stairs, then turned back to the binder and started arguing again in whispers. Ranboo resisted the urge to glance back. 

At the top of the stairs, Phil led him down a short hallway and stopped at the second door on the left. “Since we weren’t sure what you like, we left it mostly plain,” he said. “We can decorate it and stuff soon, though.”

“I’m sure it’s great how it is,” Ranboo said.

“Nah, it’s boring. I want you to like it.” Phil stuck his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, we’ll be around. If you want to hang out or need anything, just come tell one of us. You can do whatever until dinner. I’ll send Techno up when it’s ready.”

“Awesome.” Ranboo gave him one last smile and waited in the center of the room until Phil left, closing the door behind him. He sighed. Dear god, that was exhausting. Maybe he’d actually be able to sleep tonight.

There wasn’t much to do on his own. Ranboo set his bag down on the dresser and tossed the sets of clothing inside without much care how they landed. Then, he launched himself onto the bed and just… kind of laid there.

He wasn’t even sure what to think about. The house? How big it was? How it actually seemed kind of like a home, and not some rich person’s museum-slash-autobiography? Whatever Niki and Techno were arguing about? They definitely didn’t want either Ranboo or Phil to know what it was.

Ranboo closed his eyes. Purple spots floated behind his eyelids. Sometimes, he liked to try to watch the patterns, but it usually ended with feeling like he was free falling through the void.

A knock on the door jolted Ranboo out of sleep. “Yeah? Uh, come in?” he called.

The door creaked open just enough for him to see one of Techno’s eyes. “Dinner,” he said.

“Oh. Awesome.” Had it really been that long? Ranboo wasn’t really hungry; he’d actually rather go back to sleep, or whatever had made the time pass like that, but he stood up anyway. “I’ll be down in a second.”

“Awesome.” Ranboo thought he saw Techno flash him a thumbs up, but then the guy was gone, muffled steps walking down the carpeted hallway to the stairs.

Ranboo stretched his arms over his head and groaned quietly. Dinner. He could do that. He could do that, and then he could go back to sleep and be done with people for the day. Slowly, he shuffled over to the door. Just eat dinner and sleep.

Phil made dinner. Ranboo wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting that, but it was probably related to his general impression of rich people. He cringed a little at how clearly wrong he was, at least about this family. Especially because Phil had made mac and cheese.

It was freaking good mac and cheese too, he thought as he ate, carefully watching the others to make sure he wasn’t eating the wrong way. So far, he was doing well.

The four of them sat at a big table in the kitchen. Niki and Techno sat next to each other across from Ranboo, who was alone next to an empty chair. When he first saw it, he thought maybe it was Phil’s, but then Phil had taken the seat at the head of the table. Through the entire meal, Ranboo’s gaze was drawn to the chair and the question if someone was missing from their group. 

“So, Ranboo,” Niki said casually, like they’d been friends for a while and this wasn’t the first conversation she’d ever initiated with him. Ranboo looked up and put down his fork to make sure she knew he was listening. “You start school the day after tomorrow, right?”

Ranboo glanced at Phil for confirmation before nodding. “Yeah.” He was actually doing his best not to think about it. Everytime he did, his heart sped up unpleasantly and his knee started bouncing and a lot of thoughts he didn’t have space for crowded his mind. He was eternally grateful for Sunday tomorrow, giving him a bit of a reprieve before he was thrown into it.

“I thought we’d go shopping tomorrow.” Phil joined the conversation with such ease that Ranboo almost stared. “We need to get you your uniform and some supplies. I also thought a new backpack would be nice. But if you want to stick with the one you’ve got, that works, too,” he added quickly.

Ranboo thought of the seam starting to rip on one of the straps. “No, a new bag would be awesome.”

“Great. It’s settled. Techno, Niki, do you two want to come?”

The two shared a glance and nodded. 

“Alright. We’ll go to the mall at ten tomorrow, I think. Does that sound good, Ranboo?” Phil asked. Everyone was suddenly watching him. Ranboo nodded quickly, if only to make them stop.

“Did you get your schedule yet?” Techno asked, looking at his plate instead of Ranboo.

“No.” Was he supposed to have one?

“We’ll get it tomorrow with your other things,” Phil told him.

“Oh. Okay.”

When dinner was finished, Techno and Niki were the first to get up. “We have homework,” were their parting words, and then they were out the door with a surprising lack of sound. The silence held until their doors closed a few moments later.

Phil set down his fork and turned his attention to Ranboo. “I’m gonna head off too, mate. The office called, and they want me to head in for a few hours tonight. Unless you need me to stay?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Ranboo rushed out. Time alone would be good. He always found it easier to breathe when there were less people in the house.

“If you’re sure,” Phil said, standing. “Techno and Niki will help if you need anything, and my numbers are on the coffee table. You should probably put them in your phone anyway.”

Ranboo imagined the battered old model he had upstairs. The corner was bashed in from being dropped a few too many times, and the 5 button was fickle. He cringed a little at the thought of showing it to Phil.

“Will do,” was all he said. Then Phil, too, left, and Ranboo was alone in a kitchen in a new house with no real idea what he should do, except that he wanted to leave Niki and Techno alone.

With that in mind, he went to bed. Or, not exactly. He went to sit in bed with his legs crossed, hunched over his journal as he wrote everything that had happened that day down. It had been a long time since he’d lost a day, but that did nothing to remove the fear that at some point, he would.

A strange bang sometime later made Ranboo jump. He checked the digital clock on his nightstand: 1:15 am.

The noise reminded him of a window being shut, and for a brief moment, panic flashed through him like lightning. What if someone had broken in?

But that was impossible. They were at the top of freaking Pog Tower. Just to reassure himself, Ranboo got up and looked out his own window. The distance from himself to the ground made him close the curtains. Yep, no one would be scaling the building. He was fine. He was safe. 

Ranboo looked at the journal, still open on his bed. The moment when he’d gone from writing to staring blankly at the pages was a mystery. He sighed, closed the journal, and put it back in its place at the bottom of his backpack. He had to go shopping tomorrow… well, technically, today. Sleep would be a really great idea.

Not that saying it would make it happen. 

Nevertheless, Ranboo climbed into bed. This time, he got under the covers and made his eyes stay closed. The suggestions ran through his head: count, tell yourself a story, take deep breaths. None of it ever worked.

Sometimes, Ranboo really wished it did.

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: One more chapter! You guys are a dream, thank you so much for reading ❤️

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, derogatory terms for homosexuality, blood/gore and death/dying

Word Count: 5690

—————————————

Eight: All Die Young

“Um… I think besides everything with Ricky… the night of homecoming was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.”

“With Bradley Lewis’s death.”

“Yeah. I-I mean, it started off as a normal day, a-a great day, actually.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Awaking to a text from Stanley Barber, informing me that he was driving us to school, was a heavenly sight. Almost as heavenly as waking up beside the boy, himself in the near future. Grabbing my phone off its charger, I rolled onto my stomach and texted him back, my feet giddily kicking in the air. It amazed me how he could change my entire demeanor within seconds. I could go from a sniveling baby to a hopping and skipping lovesick fool when it comes to Stan. And I don’t even think he meant to have this much of an effect on me. I wondered if I had the same effect on him? I never really paid much attention to it, just accepted the fact that he would never reciprocate my feelings. Even during that time, I had no idea if we were a couple or just adoring each other. It didn’t matter, though. Stan was finally looking at me the way I wanted him to.

Jacob stared at me with unease as I skipped down the stairs, prancing my way into the kitchen for breakfast. “Mom, (Y/N)’s being weird.” He called out as he opened the front door to leave. Pam hushed him before handing me a plate of food.

“Hush, now, Jacob. Let her be in a good mood for once.”

“For once?” I frowned and sat myself down. Pam smiled over at me and gingerly kissed my forehead as I began eating.

“Yes. For once.”

When I finished eating and readying myself for the day, I received a text message from Stan.

Stan: I’m outside

Me: omw

Pocketing my cell, I called out to my family before stepping outside to see Stan in his car with a grin on his face. “Good morning, lovely!” He called out above his music as I strode up to the vehicle, climbing inside. I gave him my usual greeting before leaning over and kissing his cheek. He chuckled and waited for me to strap myself in before riding down our street. It was clear he was in a good mood, because he let me pick the music for the ride. As Waterloo by ABBA flowed out of the drawn-down car windows, I felt the comforting warmth of his hand latch onto mine. Our combined hands shook to the beat of the music as we happily sang the words to the song. Remember when I said I had only been this happy one other time? This was even better. There were never any consequences to being with Stan, never a dull moment, never a hint of doubt between our bond. I’d never been as close to anyone as I was to him. And now at last, we were even closer in more ways than one.

Stepping onto the school campus, we were no longer strangers. I still walked within my bubble, and I probably always will throughout my life, but from now on there was no need to allow Stan inside. He was planning to be beside me through it all. He wasn’t afraid to be alienated with me any longer, we were to embrace it together. We were going to allow the stares, the whispers, the rumors. Allow them to act as water on a duck’s back. I was proud of him, I was proud of us. Even as I felt the dark brown glare of Ricky Berry trail after the two of us, watching our bashful and lovestruck glances throughout classes, the way we held hands in the halls. I was certain he got the message that I was no longer his, despite the forceful way he claimed me the previous week.

At lunch, I was just about to declare my spot in line when I felt a gentle hold on my arm. Stan, with a warm grin, pulled me away and walked us to an empty table. “Um, Stan, I’d kinda like to eat lunch today.”

“I know, Nugget,” He held up two brown sacks. “I made lunch for the both of us.” The way his grin grew prideful made my heart swell in affection. We sat across from each other as he slid the bag over to me.

“Awe, Stanley, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, though,” He shrugged and watched as I took each item out of the bag and carefully organized them. “So, about homecoming. I was thinking we could make a big deal out of it. If you want to.”

“I totally want to,” I nodded, eyes trained on my task. “What were you planning, beautiful?”

I didn’t miss the bashful blush tinting his cheeks when I snuck a glance up at him. “Uh… Well, I was thinking when I pick you up, we can take, like, a shitload of pictures. Like, just let Aunt Pam go at it. She’ll love it.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“And then after the dance, I wanna take you out to eat.”

“Really? Where to?”

“Nothing too fancy. You don’t like all that. I was driving around yesterday and saw this restaurant that specializes in their pasta,” I suddenly felt the tip of my nose being gently pinched. Looking up, Stan was playfully wiggling my nose with a goofy grin on his face. “I know how much you love pasta.”

“I do,” I laughed and swatted his hand away. “And after that? Are we robbing a bank and driving off into the night?”

“If only,” He wistfully sighed. “But alas, I’m afraid we’ll have to remain trapped within Brownsville until we’re old enough to run away.”

I gave a mischievous smirk. “The entire act of running away is rebellious. Why wait until we’re allowed?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t feel like running away,” We shared a laugh. “But in all seriousness, we go to my house and just chill. We can have a dance contest. Our last was a tie, remember?”

The antsy excitement rushed through my veins the closer the night approached. I was never one for making a scene about school dances, but this time was different. It was my senior year, I had Stan, Ricky was out of the picture. Or at least, he was for the next hour. After lunch, Stan walked me to photography class, the two of us hand-in-hand as we had been for the entire day. Approaching the door, he wished me a good class before leaning in and pecking my lips. Our fingertips lingered as he pulled away and continued to his own class. Feeling my burning cheeks, I turned to go into the room, but an arm blocked my path. “Hey, Zip.”

Inwardly groaning, I looked up at Ricky. His bruises were beginning to fade, the dark ring around his right eye taking its time to heal. I silently hissed at the sight of him. “What.”

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize. Brad talked to me the other day and… made me realize that what I did was really fucked up. Really, babe, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You’re so fucking lucky I haven’t called the police on you, Ricky-”

“Yes, I know,” He sighed, discreetly rolling his eyes. “And I really appreciate it. Gives me a chance to better myself, you know? Help you better yourself. And what better way to make up for what I did than to make homecoming the most magical night for you? Yeah? We still on for tonight?”

My eyes dangerously widened at his hopeful smile, his expression melting under my fiery stare. “Are you kidding me?! Hell no! You think I wanna be anywhere near you?!”

“(Y/N)-”

“Besides, I already have another date.” I shrugged and moved to duck under his arm, but he leaned against the doorframe to decline me access inside. I quickly backed away from him, my fear kicking in at his brash behavior.

“What, Stan The Faggot? You’re really going with that fucking twink when you could be going with me?” He laughed right in my face. I lifted my chin and stepped forward.

“Don’t ever speak about Stanley that way. He’s the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met and is an even better boyfriend than you’ll ever be to anyone-”

“Boyfriend?!” He cackled. “I knew it. How could I not? It was so obvious! You’re fucking crazy.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You don’t see the way he dresses? He’s fucking weird, (Y/N). He’s a goddamn drug dealer. What is he gonna offer you? Huh? Free weed? Babe… Come on, you are so better off with me.”

He lightly shook his head with a smile of disbelief as I took out my phone. “I just remembered. You’re not supposed to be near me, talking to me, or even looking at me. I think Jacob would love to hear about this-”

“Fuck you.” Ricky hissed before stomping away, leaving me in an empty hallway that was filled with the ringing of the tardy bell not too long afterwards. At that point, I was just about sick of guys. I was irritable during gym class, running off my anger and letting it steam off my shoulders. When the coach told us we could stop, I took greedy gulps of air and trudged to a nearby bench to rest. As I plopped down, I noticed Syd and Dina walking together to the opposite side of the field. It was good to know they were to finally talk everything out. Now for her and Stan to make up…

I was thankful for a split second for the shadow that casted over the burning sun raining down on me, but huffed upon seeing who it was. Some guy from my math class stood before me. He was shirtless, displaying his six-pack and chest glistening with sweat. He beamed down at me with a suave smirk. “Hey, Zip.”

“Hey.”

“So… I know you and Ricky are… you know. So, since the dance is tonight-”

“Sorry, I already have a date.”

“Right,” He nodded slowly, beginning to back away. “I should’ve known. No worries.”

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

“And he just walked away?!” Stan laughed on our drive home from school. My hold on his hand tightened as I tried to hold in my own laugh.

“No, he ran away!” I snorted, triggering the increase of his laughter.

“What is that, the fourth guy today?”

“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes as he pulled up to my house. Unbuckling myself, I froze at Stan’s intentuous stare. He reached over and grabbed my hand again, raising it to his lips.

“I expect you to dazzle everyone like you usually do.” He kissed my knuckles.

My breath hitched. “Of course. And I expect you to do better than me, like you usually do. What time should I be ready?”

“I’m picking you up at eight. On the dot.”

“On the dot, got it.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He returned it and tilted his head to try and deepen it, but I pulled away with a giggle. Stan watched in awe as I got out of the car, snatching up my backpack as I did. Waving him off, I turned and headed inside my house.

I had to look perfect. Not just for Stan, but for me. This was a new era of myself, I had shedded my skin and materialized as something beautiful. I had to showcase just how beautiful I’ve become. So, after my shower, I struck up a playlist and dolled myself up. Starting off with my hair, I simply pinned it up with white butterfly hair clips. My makeup was nothing special, other than the baby pink eyeshadow and the small application of glitter over it. To seal up the look, I added cherry lip gloss to give my lips a bit of a pop. I hoped Stan would appreciate it. My face burned at the thought of him tasting the cherry on my mouth. Backing away from my mirror before I exploded, I entered my closet. My dress was something I never thought I would ever wear. It matched my makeup in baby pink. An off-the-shoulder look that hugged my torso and flared out to the floor. I managed to zip it up myself before slipping on a pair of white heels. Turning to my reflection, I let out a breath.

I had never looked any more beautiful, I think. I remember gazing at my parents’ wedding photo as a child and wishing to look as beautiful as my mother one day. I wondered if she was looking down at me, proud of who I had become at that point. Gazing fondly down at the ring on my pinky, I blinked back the stinging of my tears.

Yeah, she’s proud.

An eager three knocks sounded at my door and I hurried to open it. Pam immediately teared up the moment her eyes settled on me, camera ready in her hand. “Oh, my baby… You look so gorgeous! Just like your mom!” She gushed. I could only chuckle as she took multiple pictures of me. Hearing a taunting laugh, I looked down the hall to see Jacob leaning against the wall, silently mocking his mother’s excitement. I kindly showed my middle finger to him, much to Pam’s disappointment. “Oh, come on. Now it’s in the picture! Jake, leave your sister alone!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He feigned innocence and batted his eyelashes at me. I playfully sneered at him before David’s voice sounded from downstairs.

“(Y/N), Stan is here!”

Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. Eight o’clock. On the dot. That punctual bastard. Clutching my phone in my hand, I nervously made my way to the top of the stairs. Everyone was waiting for me at the bottom, including Stan. God, he looked so cute. He was wearing his baby blue suit, some sort of black and tan shirt beneath that oddly went well with the suit. Leave it to Stan to defy the laws of fashion. I could tell he paid extra care to his hair, the way it was styled perfectly for his curls to sit off to the left side of his forehead. I was sure I was grinning like a maniac as I descended the stairs, but Stan’s expression was the reason I was grinning. He looked absolutely astonished and at a loss for words. His jaw was dropped and eyes were bulging as he watched me walk closer to him. When I quietly greeted him, he couldn’t even respond. Great job, (Y/N), you broke him.

“How’d I do?” I whispered and hooked arms with him. At my touch, he snapped out of his haze and beamed at me.

“You certainly did not disappoint, lovely.”

“Awe, and you aren’t looking too bad yourself, beautiful.”

Pam squealed from the sidelines before rushing over to us. “Stanley, doesn’t she look stunning?”

“Absolutely, Aunt Pam.” He grinned at the older woman as she began taking photo after photo of us. We decided to indulge her and pose for each one. All the while, I felt a red hot glare from the side. Glancing its way, I noticed Jacob fuming at the sight of Stan and I hugged up on each other. His Big Brother Mode was going to activate the second Pam was done with us. To my horror, she finished sooner than I thought. As she excitedly showed our photos to David, I watched as Jacob slowly approached us. Just as he opened his mouth to spit some sort of threat towards the poor, unsuspecting Stan, I turned to the front door and flung it open.

“Well, we really have to go! We’re already late, you know.” I chuckled and gently shoved Stan out of the house.

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Pam called out after us. “You two be careful out there! And have fun!”

“And (Y/N)-” Jacob began to add in a warning, but I waved him off, mouthing an ‘I know’ as Stan scrambled to hold the car door open for me. I quietly thanked him and climbed inside. The car ride to the dance was very pleasant. The hum of soft rock music fit the mood of our night as we quietly sang along. Stan found a parking spot rather quickly and leaned back in his seat after turning the car off. Bringing the visor down, I checked myself in the mirror, gently running my fingers over my white gold hoop earrings gifted to me by my dad for my previous birthday. They were pretty expensive and I hardly wore them, so why not? Hearing a click, I turned to see Stan lighting up a joint. After he took a hit, he looked my way and smiled, offering it to me. Without any hesitation, I joined him in a quick session. As I took my third hit, I felt his eyes on me.

“What?” I raised a brow and exhaled the smoke. His eyes shown in adoration.

“What a sight you are…”

“A sight? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’re sitting in my old-school car, looking like a goddess and smoking a joint. You’re so beautiful… Just perfection.”

“Jeez, maybe I should get dolled up to smoke more often.” I joked and handed it back to him. We shared a chuckle before Stan put the smoke out. He gave me a wink before getting out of the car and rounding it to let me out.

Our highs kicked in the moment we stepped into the gymnasium. Our clammy hands found each other as we walked further in. I let him lead me through the sea of dancing bodies and bouncing balloons, the two of us hitting them out of our way as we ended up near the bleachers. When we stopped, we overlooked the scene before us as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Best theater in town, Stan.”

“Best theater in town, (Y/N),” He looked down at me with furrowed brows. “So, why aren’t you on stage?”

“I don’t perform without my co-star.”

“Well, in that case.” He took hold of both my hands and swung us around. At that, we let loose, broadcasting our best secret dance contest moves to anyone willing to watch. I thought it was perfect. The two outcasts, both outcasts for difference reasons, wildly dancing together away from everyone else. And yet, they were the life of the party. It was meant to be. My feet stung from the stomping and jumping I was doing in my heels, but I couldn’t care less.

“I fucking hate this song!” I joyfully shouted, eliciting a laugh from my date.

“Me, too!” From the sound of our laughter, it was clear the two of us were high. Three songs later, in the middle of my rounds of spinning, I felt Stan’s hands on my waist, attempting to stop me. When I did, my surroundings rotated around me and I leaned into him for support. Looking up, I saw Sydney awkwardly smiling at the both of us.

“Oh! Hey, Syd! I love your dress.” I smiled and gestured to her attire. Her smile widened.

“Thanks, (Y/N), y-you look great.”

“Awe, thanks.” I gushed and bashfully waved her off. My attention turned to Stan, who had a look of indifference on his face, but a hint of pain in his eyes. Sydney noticed it, too, and looked back at me.

“Uh… Can I borrow Stan for a second?”

“Go ahead.” I motioned. Stan stared at me for a second before following Syd onto the bleachers. I suddenly felt very out of place, so I decided to keep my hands busy and get myself some punch. Thankfully, I found Dina there, pouring herself a cup. When she noticed me, she quickly set it back down on the table and reached her arms out for a hug. “Dina, you look so good!”

“Are you kidding me?!” We engulfed each other in a tight hug before pulling away. “You look fucking amazing! You always have to show out, huh?”

“I try…” I lowered my voice. As the two of us talked, lonely guys would come up to us and ask to dance, but we would hold hands and politely decline. After the third walked away, Dina turned to me.

“Hey, so… In detention… The thing that Jenny said about Ricky. Was that true…?” The hesitancy in her voice made me deeply inhale as I nodded in confirmation. Instantly, her eyes welled up with tears as her hands covered her mouth. “(Y/N)... I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve been there for you.”

“No, no, Dina!” I quickly took her hands into mine, my heart wrenching. “It’s okay! I’m okay…”

“You’re okay? H-How are you okay?” She frowned and blinked back her tears. A warm smile twitched its way onto my face.

“Stan… he’s been making everything better…” I admitted. Dina’s face lit up before she hugged me all over again.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! I’m so happy for you! God, you fucking deserve it, girl!” She exclaimed as I hugged back, quietly laughing at her excitement. Our hug was cut short, when Dina caught sight of our dates heading toward us. I turned to them and happily watched as they approached us, their hands lazily clasped together. Sydney held out Stan’s hand over to mine and I gladly took over. “Stan!” Dina grinned at him as he allowed me to lean against his side.

“Dina, you look, um… you look like a Christmas tree.” He awkwardly complimented as I rolled my eyes. Dina looked down at herself.

“Thanks, dude.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded before his eye caught something. “Oh, god. Whitaker’s still watching us.” He sighed. We directed our gaze to our principal, who indeed was standing across the gym, arms folded and a piercing gaze on the four of us.

“It’s probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in his entire life.” Sydney crossed her arms, as well, as we all grinned. Stan leaned forward and placed his other hand over ours as he hummed.

“I don’t know, guys. I mean, we’re wanted criminals. Why are we out here in the open? Exposed. First rule of the heist is split the loot and split the fuck up, right?”

“We don’t have any loot, Stan.” I raised a brow in false confusion as Dina smirked at me.

“Yeah, all we did was disrespect this fine institution.”

“And disrespect ourselves.” Sydney finished, Stan humming again before we all shared a soft laugh. Stan’s smile disappeared as a slow song came on. I barely recognized it, but he sure seemed to know it. His free hand reached up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, no. On principle, I just- I can’t,” He groaned and began to free himself from my grasp. “Sorry, this playlist is all over the map. I’ll- I’ll be back.” He squeezed between Syd and I to leave, but I followed right behind. He was nearly at the DJ table, when I managed to stop his striding.

“Stan! Stan, wait!” I laughed and turned him to me. “Come on, I wanna dance to this.”

“(Y/N), I have to enlighten that poor DJ over there.”

“After this song?” I pouted and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I don’t care about the music. I’ll dance to anything with you.”

“That is a lie, but fine,” He sighed before his hands rested on my waist. Our dance started off with timid shuffling, Stan clearly not used to slow dancing. I chuckled and directed his eyes away from his shoes.

“Stan, it’s just swaying, I promise.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look before moving with me to the music. Of course, since it’s Stan, he had to add in a few spins that had us stumbling. We laughed aloud when we almost toppled over, and we earned a few weird stares, but we didn’t give a shit. Just as it seemed we were getting the hang of it, a voice that rang throughout the gym interrupted the song and dance.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr File announced from the stage. “If I may have your attention. Stop talking. Look up here please.”

“Thank god, they stopped the song.” Stan whispered in my ear as we turned to the stage. I playfully and gently hit his chest as our teacher continued.

“It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!”

As the homecoming royalty hopped on stage, we all clapped and cheered for them, Stan and I exchanging looks that said ‘I have no idea who these people are’. “What up, Westinghouse!” Jeff exclaimed into the microphone, his queen by his side, the both of them wearing sashes and crowns. “Yeah! Where my boys at? Whoo! Where do I begin? I wanna thank my mom for meeting my dad-”

His amusing speech was cut off by Bradley Lewis running onstage and clamping his hand over the mic. “Listen up!” He yelled as the feedback screeched. Our smiles dropped as he swayed, clearly drunk. As Mr File tried to take the mic from him, he thrashed about and moved away. “Give me a second! I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here.”

“What the fuck…?” I muttered and watched as he turned to the middle of the crowd.

“Sydney Novak!” His exclamation sent a flinch through Stan and I, and I felt him tense under my hold on his arm. “Hey, Sydney! Raise your hand! Raise your hand! Give a wave so everybody can see you!” When she didn’t comply, he moved on, proceeding to pull out Sydney’s supposed diary and flipping through it, exposing all of her secrets to the whole school. He told about how at Ricky’s party, she had kissed Dina upstairs. As he spoke, he hopped off the stage and pushed past people to stalk closer to his victim, the path to her and Dina made clear. I could see the panic in Sydney’s eyes. My blood boiled at the derogatory term he used for her sexuality, but Stan was just about ready to pop. His jaw was severely clenched and his face was flushed red in anger. I felt him move forward, but kept an arm in front of him. But there was no holding him back after the next thing Brad exposed. “And my god, don’t even get me started on the daddy issues on this one. I mean, it’s fucking worse than Zip’s! And we all know about that!” That comment punched me straight in the gut and Stan ripped his arm from my hold, pushing his way through the crowd. “Everyone in Sydney’s life thinks that she’s a piece of shit. And I mean everyone!” His cackling was interrupted when Stan broke through everyone.

“Hey, man! Leave her alone!” He went to stand in front of his friend, but Brad immediately swung, his fist connecting with Stan’s face and sending him to the ground, unconscious. My breathing stuttered before I wordlessly shoved everyone out of the way, trying to get to his limp form. There were a few people separating us that wouldn’t budge. I growled as Brad continued, shaking his fist from the blow.

“But that is not even the weirdest thing about Sydney… Novak,” He took a few steps forward, and I watched as Sydney wiped a tear from her eye. This whole situation was fucked. “Get this. Sydney claims that she has-”

To this day, I have no fucking clue how it happened, but Brad’s words were cut short when his blood and brains exploded onto everyone near him. Including me. I heard nothing but white noise the second the blood platter smacked into my hair, onto my face, my dress, my shoes. Brad’s headless body fell limp to the ground, the remaining of his brains spilling out from where his head should have been. His head should’ve been there… His head should be there! I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. My eyes were glued to the bloodied corpse on the ground. I was sure everyone was screaming and running around, but I couldn’t do the same. I saw shaking Dina’s form, trembling as she moved, but my focus snapped right back to the fucking corpse. I should’ve moved. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve ran. I should have been crying and gagging and panicking, but I just… I couldn’t. I don’t know what the fuck.

“(Y/N)!” I felt a hand pulling me by the arm, but I was in such a state of shock that I blindly let whoever drag me out of the school- no, the crime scene. I felt the cool air nip at my exposed skin, but I still couldn’t have been bothered to react to anything. It wasn’t until I felt a piece of bloody meat slip down my face and disappear into my dress that I could breathe again. I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt it run down my skin.

“It’s in my dress! It’s touching me!” I cried. The mess of curls in front of me whipped around to face me. Through my teary-eyed vision, I could make out that it was Stan. He was awake, he was fine. But I wasn’t.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?!”

“It’s in my fucking dress!” I gagged as I felt it run down my stomach. “Stan, a piece of his fucking brain-”

He firmly grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me to his car. I hyperventilated as he placed me in the passenger seat. Before closing the door, he reached into my dress from the bottom and slid his hand from my knees, past my thighs and planted his palm on my stomach. He gagged when his hand touched the meat, grabbing hold of it and ripping his hand from my dress, throwing the flesh to the ground. Stumbling a bit, he shut my door and rounded the car to drive. I had to ride with my window down, letting the wind blow against my face to prevent the contents in my stomach from resurfacing into Stan’s car. He drove all around town, calling out for Sydney. He would glance over at me every once and awhile when I would gag or groan, but that was it.

What a sight I was.

Do I look beautiful now, Stan?

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

When Stan decided to give up on the search for Sydney, he sped us to his house. The sirens of police cars and ambulances echoed within my empty mind. But the moment I left the car, I hurled my guts up into Stan’s yard. He caught me before I could fall and rubbed my back until I emptied my stomach. Then when I was done, I did the same for him.

I had no concept of time, I can’t remember how long we were throwing up in his front lawn, but when we were done, he guided me inside the house and down to his room. The second he let go of me to retrieve new clothes, my entire body trembled and shook uncontrollably. “S-Stan… S-S-Stan.” I whimpered out. He returned to me with clothes tucked under one of his arms. He held me by the elbow and guided me to his bathroom, sitting me down on the toilet lid before starting up the shower for me.

“Nugget? Hey, do you want me to-”

“N-No.” I don’t know why I said that. I needed him in that room with me. He was patient enough to look away as I undressed, nearly falling a few times, and stepped into the shower. He left the door slightly ajar, so I was sure he could hear my sobbing as I sat down, letting the water rinse me of Bradley Lewis’s blood and guts.

I returned to Stan in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He stood from his bed and carefully watched the way I moved. The way I slowly blinked and walked two steps at a time toward him. Silently, he lifted his covers for me to lay down. I stared at him emptily for a few beats before complying, my back facing him. I felt his lips on my neck and gladly welcomed the kiss before he whispered into my ear, “I’m gonna shower now, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Go ahead.” I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. As Stan showered, my shaking hands reached up and freed my locks from my hair clips. I tried to keep my crying near-silent as I did so, but I wasn’t too sure how loud I was being. Within time, he had returned and laid down beside me in bed. And from the warmth I felt when his back touched mine, I could tell he was shirtless. It was painfully silent as we both unevenly breathed. I bit my fingers to keep myself from crying again. Everything about me felt unbalanced. I wanted to be beaten even. It’s what I deserved for not taking care of myself.

“Hey.” Stan’s whisper broke my train of thought.

“H-Hey…”

“You asleep?”

“No… You?”

“No.” He muttered as I felt the bed dip when he turned around to spoon me. His leg draped over mine as his arms pulled me closer. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck as he deeply inhaled. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ask the question brewing in my mind,

“Do you have any idea what the fuck happened? B-Brad just… h-he fucking…”

“I know,” He murmured against my skin, his hold tightening as well as his throat. I could tell by the way he choked on his breath. “I… I’ll explain it another day. N-Not tonight.”

As we fell asleep an hour later, I knew he’d never explain it.

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @magicalgothpandamaker

[mearcatsreturns]

/whispers/ So maybe I now have to ask for Ivan and the No Good Terrible Very Bad Day Attempting to Babysit a Grisha Child Who Can Summon Light and Shadow. How could this possibly go wrong.

Once again, this got long, so here's the first chapter of A Day in the Life of Ivan, Or: Ivan’s Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

The worst day of Ivan’s life begins years before the fateful day itself, if that’s possible. He’s grateful not to know the precise day, but he knows who—or what, rather��is to blame.

It’s the damn heterosexuals. They just won’t stop fucking, and they’ve made it everyone else’s problem now.

The heterosexuals in question are, of course, Kirigan and Alina, or as they’re known now, the Tsar and Tsarina.

&&&

About three years before the Worst Day™, Ivan is minding his own business, just trying to find some decent food after returning from a mission to the northern border. It wasn’t a bad trip; Fedyor had been with him and they’d enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time together outside the political games of Os Alta.

Nevertheless, Ivan is eager to eat some food that isn’t dried and to sleep in his own comfortable bed. He’s already debriefed with the Tsar and bathed, so he’s delighted to find it’s time for dinner. It’s to be a small group tonight, just the king and queen, Nikolai, Zoya, Tamar, Nadia, Fedyor and him. He can tolerate them all (except Fedyor, who of course is the light of his life), though Alina remains permanently on thin ice. She makes the Darkling light and happy, and it’s just unnatural.

They settle around the table and fall into comfortable conversation. Tolya is on an assignment and intends to travel to Kerch after this. Tamar and Nadia are beginning to formalize their union and are looking for a house. If their bickering and the obscene looks Zoya and Nikolai are giving each other are any indication, Ivan expects some kind of announcement from them any day. The Tsar intends to invite some dignitaries from Novyi Zem to the palace in a few weeks.

And Tsaritsa Alina is pale and...unwell. She looks queasy, and Ivan feels a moment of alarm. Grisha can’t get sick, not unless they don’t use their powers. Given that Alina is the Sol Koroleva, the renowned Sun Summoner, that seems unlikely. Few things lead to such ill appearances. Maybe some kind of poison? If she or her food are being poisoned, they need to know as soon as possible.

Ivan does his usual first step; he counts the heartbeats, checking their speeds. One, two, three, four, everyone is normal, five, six, seven, eight, nine...ah, the ninth is faint and fast.

Wait. Nine? There are only eight of them here at dinner, and the attendants have long since departed.

It hits Ivan like a lightning bolt, and he gasps aloud in shock and horror. The most reasonable explanation for the extra heartbeat and Alina’s ill looks is—oh, saints protect them all—a baby.

Everyone turns to look at him, as though he is the one who’s done something strange and dangerous.

Ivan gapes at Alina and points a finger accusingly, “You’re pregnant! With a baby!”

Beside him, Fedyor closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a sigh. Tamar and Nadia exchange a knowing, amused look, though they manage not to laugh. Zoya raises one shapely eyebrow.

Nikolai grins. “One generally is pregnant with babies, as opposed to anything else. Except perhaps with genius ideas, in my case and David’s. Alina, moi tsar, congratulations to you both.”

Alina glares at Ivan. What? He’s not the unholy saint about to unleash terror onto the earth from their womb.

Once he glances at Kirigan, though, Ivan stills. The Tsar is ashen and looks as though someone has dropped an iron on his head, or told him that his beloved horse is Grisha too.

“Aleksander, I wasn’t sure. I was waiting until I was to tell you,” Alina says, one hand on her husband’s forearm. “Are...are you all right?”

The Tsar opens his mouth, but no sounds come out.

Tamar and Nadia stand, hand-in-hand. “We, ah, think we’ll take our leave now. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Sol Koroleva, my King,” Tamar says, and she and her fiancée flee.

Zoya clears her throat and gives Nikolai a look that is very different from the hungry one Ivan so despises on faces that aren’t Fedyor’s.

With a nod at her, Nikolai stands and helps her to her feet. “Indeed. Your hospitality is, as always, boundless, though I can’t help but feel we’re trespassing on it every second we linger here. Erm, do let me know when I can get you a gift.”

“Congratulations,” Zoya says, and to Ivan’s disgust, she actually sounds sincere. He watches as she and Nikolia leave, one of the Lantsov pup’s hands at the small of her waist. One would think the heterosexuals would have learned from this evening that touching each other is dangerous, but apparently some of them are just utter fools.

Fedyor elbows him, and Ivan turns to scowl at his beloved. “Wha—”

A point of his head in the direction of the Tsar and Tsaritsa quiets Ivan.

Alina is kneeling beside her husband’s chair, stroking his arm. Aleksander Kirigan, King of Ravka, Shadow Summoner, the Black General, sits still as a statue, eyes wide with shock.

“We’ll head out now too,” Fedyor says.

Ivan nods, grabbing Fedya’s arm and hauling him from the room. Over his shoulder, Ivan yells, “Good luck!”

Fedyor smacks him, whispering furiously as they close the door behind them. “‘Good luck’?! You’re supposed to say ‘congratulations,’ or ‘have a nice evening,’ you utter troll.”

“I’m a troll now? See if I give you a massage when we get back to our rooms,” Ivan grouses. He pulls Fedyor along, pulling him away from where he seemed inclined to linger by the door. Eavesdropping, pah. He can’t believe he’s married to such a busybody.

Who would want to stay to hear whatever nonsense the Darkling and his wife are about to say or do? He’s had enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.

Ivan shudders. The two most powerful Grisha on the planet, one a sun summoner and the other a shadow summoner, having a baby? The world is definitely doomed.

&&&

The next day, Ivan receives a summons to go see the Tsar. Dread churns in his stomach, and he rubs his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, especially after he and Fedyor had a tiff about “inappropriate behavior and outbursts.” And now he’s to see his boss, probably about said outburst the previous night.

He accompanies Anton, the young oprichnik to the Tsar’s quarters, and the boy brightens with excitement to be talking to one of the Tsar’s most favored Grisha. “Thank you, Andrei. I’ll make my way from here.” The boy’s face falls, but Ivan dismisses him with a nod. If the oprichniki got any more friendly, they’d start calling him Vanya without his permission. Appalling.

Ivan takes a deep breath, then knocks at the door. He’s long since learned the value of knocking after Alina and the General got together, especially now that they share their quarters. Unfortunately, no healer has yet to find something to wipe certain sights from his brain.

“Come in,” Kirigan’s faint, disembodied voice commands.

Ivan lets himself into the room, waiting while the Tsar steps around the corner from the bedroom he shares with his queen.

“Good morning, Ivan.”

“Good morning, moi soverennyi. I hope you rested well,” Ivan replies, tone funereal. Saints, he prays he’s not about to be sent to Tsibeya permanently. He runs his hand under his collar, annoyed to find he’s actually sweating.

Kirigan’s face gives nothing away. “I did, thank you. The Tsaritsa is with Genya and one of the healers.”

“And she...she is well?” Ivan gulps.

“Yes. She was apparently a bit surprised last night herself, as she’d only just begun to suspect she might be pregnant.”

As much as Ivan hates when the Tsar’s feelings show—it’s usually him making soppy, annoying faces at Alina—he wishes Aleksander would just say what’s on his mind.

“My apologies, sir, I was also surprised. She seemed unwell, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t, say, being poisoned.”

“You thought someone might be poisoning my wife?” Kirigan is incredulous.

“Things have been very calm with Fjerda lately. I don’t trust it.”

The General mutters under his breath, something about not trusting anything.

Ivan waits. Finally, Kirigan breaks the not-so-silent silence. “Well, thank you for your concern. And, ah, the surprising news.”

“You’re most welcome,” he replies gloomily.

“You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Forgive me, moi tsar, but I don’t see a need for excitement at a natural result of your conjugal activities. Sir.”

Oh, saints, is Kirigan frowning at him? Ivan mentally starts packing his belongings when the frown becomes a smile and then a laugh.

Perhaps Aleksander still isn’t quite recovered from the shock of his impending fatherhood.

He’s not paying attention to Ivan anyway. Kirigan makes his way to the table, shuffling the papers there unseeingly. “I didn’t think it was possible, you know.”

“I did not.” And Ivan would like to keep it that way.

Alas, Aleksander seems inclined to continue talking. “In all my long life, longer than you know, I’ve never fathered a child.”

Ivan grimaces. The world is probably grateful, though now it has much to fear. “It would have been challenging to have had a child during the wars, sir.”

Kirigan waves this aside, and unfortunately continues speaking. “Still, for it to happen with Alina...I’m so thrilled, Ivan.”

“And I am...happy for you, General.” Make it stop. Ivan is queasy.

“Of course, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t happen when Alina and I first got together, especially now that I know how possible that was.”

Ivan wants to cover his ears and sing “la la la la la,” but the implications of what his boss is saying finally sink in, and his horror at this whole situation increases exponentially. “Wait. Do you mean to say you weren’t using, ah, preventative measures?”

Kirigan’s face grows sheepish. “Until my conversation with Alina last night after you all departed, I wasn’t aware there was such a thing. In my day, one simply planned around the time of the month or withdrew from—”

“I beg you to stop talking. Moi soverennyi,” Ivan adds as an afterthought.

The Tsar falls silent, and Ivan sighs with relief.

But something bothers him. “Did you not get any sort of talk about how to prevent pregnancy when you were training? Even I did when I was young, before everyone knew I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Like I said, there weren’t those kinds of options when I was young, as far as I know,” Kirigan says with a shrug.

Ivan begins to realize that his boss is, in fact, much older than he thought. That explains the herring and rye, too. He hesitates before venturing to speak. “Do...was Alina—the queen, that is, did she explain the different kinds of birth control, or…?”

“Well, I can’t get her more pregnant, Ivan.”

It’s too horrible to even contemplate, and Ivan shudders.

Kirigan laughs and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to give me The Talk. Alina was so upset I didn’t know that she told me everything last night.”

Ivan’s lips twist in dismay at Aleksander’s rapturous expression that indicates there was a demonstration of some practical applications. Ugh. “Small mercies.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll consider this next a mercy: I want you and Fedyor to stay close through Alina’s pregnancy, especially once word gets out.”

Staying in Os Alta won’t be so bad, but the idea of dancing attendance on Alina, all while some parasite hijacks and distorts her body...well, hopefully he’ll get a good field assignment once this pregnancy is over. “Of course, moi tsar. And when will it end? I mean, ah, when is the blessed event?”

“In seven and a half months or so, perhaps eight. She’s about five or six weeks along, the healer says. And that, well…” Kirigan smiles at what is clearly the memory of this child’s conception.

Ivan fervently wracks his brain, desperate to keep his boss from offering more information that will give him nightmares about heterosexual intercourse. “And is there any way of knowing whether the babe will be a shadow summoner or sun summoner? Or both?”

A stricken look comes over Kirigan’s face. “Both?” He clearly hasn’t considered this possibility yet. “But that…” He doesn’t continue, instead going to fall into his chair and stare into distance.

It’s going to be a long few months.

&&&

It’s roughly eight months after that when Ivan is rudely pulled from sleep by Genya bursting into his and Fedyor’s room like she has the right.

It’s obscenely early in the morning, Ivan is, as is his usual habit, sleeping on his side facing the window. Fedyor, as is his usual custom, sleeps with his arm slung over Ivan’s waist and his head buried between his shoulder blades. It’s very soothing, normally.

Not today, though. The door opens with a bang, and Genya yells, “It’s time! She’s here!”

Ivan, suddenly wide awake, goes to jump out of bed. Instead, he finds that Genya has slowed their heart rates enough that hurrying is impossible. He glares at her. “What the fuck are you doing in our room? Who is here?”

“The baby is here. The tsarevna.”

“It’s a girl?” Fedyor asks with a smile.

Genya grins back. “Yes. She’s adorable.”

Ivan does not smile. “I’m glad she’s arrived. But why are you here in our bedroom at—” he glances at the clock and continues, “4:52 in the morning?”

“Everyone is going to see here. You’re the Tsar’s right-hand man, Ivan, so they’ll be expecting you.”

“Well, Genya, darling, you’ll have to let our hearts do their normal thing if you want us to do that,” Fedyor adds.

She shakes her head and drops her hand. “Of course. Sorry. See you there in fifteen minutes, and please be wearing pants. And shirts.”

Ivan grumbles, but gets out of bed. It’s difficult to want to leave when Fedyor is looking over him like that, but Kirigan probably will be upset if they don’t come to fawn over his spawn in what he deems a reasonable amount of time.

He and Fedyor make their way down the halls of the palace to Aleksander’s and Alina’s private apartment. The door is open, but Ivan nods at the guards and knocks anyway before stepping inside, Fedyor on his heels. He walks back to the bedroom, where he can hear hushed, happy conversations.

Alina is lying on the bed. She looks sweaty and disgusting, but in a radiant and maternal way that the Tsar seems to find beautiful, since he can’t look away from her. Typical, and exactly what got them into this mess.

The mess in question is wrapped in a blanket in her mother’s arms. Ivan glances at the small bundle, which seems to be sleeping. It is certainly very red.

Kirigan sits in a chair beside the bed, as close to it and his wife and new daughter as he can. He’s resting one hand on Alina’s shoulder, while the other trails along his daughter’s tiny head.

“The tsarevna is lovely,” Fedyor says, smiling down at the family.

Ivan thinks that’s a bit of a stretch, but he nods. “She looks like a baby. A healthy one.”

Fedyor elbows him, but Alina just rolls her eyes. “Thank you, I think.”

“She’s beautiful,” Aleksander says firmly, his face still disturbingly dreamy. “We’ve decided to call her Anastasia.”

Nastia. That seems about right.

Just then, the wee girl stirs and starts to wail. As her cries grow louder and Alina shifts to be able to feed her, shadows creep into the room. Then through the darkness, Ivan sees little flashes of light coming from the baby.

Fuck. This tiny child can summon shadows and light.

Nasty little Nastia indeed.

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 5/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Hange took one deep breath, then another. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Started counting to ten in her head, only to stumble at three.

Nothing worked. The anger, the frustration, the little voice at the back of her mind, the one that whispered it's all your fault, you should have acted sooner, you should have been better - none of it disappeared.

And the longer she stood there, in the room with a man, who had a hole in his head, who died because of her, the harder it became to ignore it all.

If only she was smarter, if only she was more dedicated, if only she worked harder and didn't run away on dates like a lovesick teenager, all of it could have been evaded. The man, young man with a loving family - a weeping wife and confused children - could have been saved.

If only.

Another deep breath, and Hange reached her tipping point.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed suddenly, kicking the wall next to her so fiercely, the impact of the kick reverberated through her leg.

A moment ago, everyone else in the room had only been sending her quick, nervous glances. Now all of them were staring right at her with unmasked panic and concern.

Great, just great. Seemed like she had once again proven why she was called Crazy Hange.

"Proceed with your work!" she barked at other policemen.

They swiftly turned around, returning to their tasks. Looking for clues, searching for the smallest piece of evidence.

They wouldn't find anything. Not if they were at work.

"Hange," a heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and Hange jerked, whirling around. Erwin was standing behind her, his thick eyebrows furrowed in a concerned expression.

How did he manage to sneak up on her like that? How long was he standing there and she did not notice, too occupied with her tantrum?

"I'm fine," she waved him off, before Erwin could say anything.

"Are you?" his blue eyes stared deeply into hers, making her almost uncomfortable. But if there was anything Hange learnt after ten years of working under Erwin, it was how to endure his captious gaze.

"Just a little frustrated," Hange admitted, knowing Erwin would see right through her anyway. "If I wasn't—"

"No." Erwin spoke resolutely. "None of it was your fault, Hange."

"But Ackermans—"

"We don't even know if it's them."

"Bullshit," Hange hissed, lowering her voice so the others wouldn't hear them. One tantrum was more than enough for today. "No fingerprints, no sign of forced entry, no broken locks on doors or the safe, if it wasn't for the unlucky witness," her eyes darted to the dead man again, her heart growing heavier. "We would never know someone was there."

"It's just a house," Erwin reminded. "A house of a wealthy politician, but still just a house. It's too small of a fish for the Ackermans."

"And yet it was them," Hange argued. "The footprints on the snow," she pointed to the window. "Forensics says they belong to two men - one short, one tall. It fits the description of Ackermans that we have."

"Still," Erwin set his jaw. "We don't know if it's them."

"You might not know. But I do."

Looking at the doubt and disappointed that were etched on Erwin's face made her anger grow. Hange turned away from him, before the volcano inside her erupted.

There was nothing else to do here, they wouldn't find any clues, she was sure of it. But maybe someone else knew something she didn't.

Hange left the master's study, heading to the living room downstairs. The hallways stood empty and, despite the bright lights that illuminated her path, Hange felt a sense of unease settle over her. The farther she moved from the study, the quieter the house became. And when she left behind the chatter of her colleagues, quiet, agonizing sobs filled the silence.

Hange shuddered, as she walked down the stairs. The house sustained a tragedy, it was filled with so much grief it was hard not to be affected by it.

Contrary to the hallways and rooms upstairs, the living room was dark, and the only source light was coming from a fireplace that stood by the northern wall.

Next to it was an armchair, and there sat a woman - still wearing a gorgeous light green gown, she was holding a small girl in her arms.

The woman was crying just moments before Hange had showed up, her cheeks were still wet with tears and her chest raised and fell in rapid succession. She pulled herself together swiftly and efficiently, though, all signs of mourning were gone from her gaze as soon as she locked eyes with Hange.

"Did you find something useful?" she strictly demanded.

The dominance and supremacy were oozing from that woman. The sharp contrast - the expensive dress and the glistening jewels, ruined make-up on a hard, scowling face, a child in her hands, who seemingly didn't realize what had happened, who couldn't yet comprehend that her father wasn't going back, and quiet, desperate wails coming from another room and belonging, Hange guessed, to another child of the family - all of it made her breath hitch.

She wondered if the mother of the family would mind it if she sits down to the armchair that stood next to her.

Of course, she'll mind. She is the wife of an influential politic.

She was a wife of an influential politic, Hange argued with an imaginary Erwin in her head.

She sighed and fell down in that armchair. She didn't care if the grieving widow next to her minded or not. She was so damn exhausted.

"We are working on it," Hange said, taking off her glasses and cleaning them with a sleeve.

"You should work harder," the widow seethed.

Yeah, Hange thought, tell me something I don't know.

"So you have no lead? No idea who could have killed my husband?"

Hange could have told her the truth. She even wanted to. But then she thought of all possible outcomes and... If press found out that she hanged another crime on Ackermans and if they found out that she had the plan to apprehend them and still let an innocent man die... They would have her for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Not something she was actively striving for.

"We're working on it," she repeated, and before the widow could snarl at her some more, Hange took the line of questioning into her own hands. She came here to interrogate, not the other way around. "Did your husband have enemies?"

The woman snorted. "He was a politician. Of course, he had enemies. But there was no one who hated him enough to kill."

Hange nodded. She expected as much.

"Although, there was this girl..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she came and went, visiting his office in all times of day. She even stopped by our house a few times. He had hired her to look for something, I guess. I don't know if she had ever found it."

"Hm".

If it was another case, the one where she didn't already know who the culprit was, Hange would have found that new bit of information intriguing. Promising, even. Alas…

"The last question, and I'll be on my way," Hange promised. "The only thing robbed is the safe. Do you know what was inside?"

The widow looked down, gently stroking the hair of her daughter. "He never told me."

Disappointing, but if Hange played her cards right, just in a few days, they would be able to find it out for themselves.

God, interrogating those Ackermans... That surely would be a blast. Hange was beyond excited at the prospect.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said, rising to her feet. She fixed her jacket and shirt and gave the woman a curt nod. "If you remember something else or need our help, I left my number at the table in the office. Don't hesitate to call at all times of day. And don't worry," Hange smiled, faintly, tiredly, but smiled. "Your husband will be avenged.”

***

It was his last day in the city. Levi thought he'd be feeling melancholic, nostalgic, plain sad. Instead he felt... nothing. The last night encounter, the glassy eyed, dead man... It had shaken him more than he could have expected.

Maybe, Kenny was right. He was too softhearted.

Maybe, that was the exact reason why he was holding a phone right now, contemplating if he should call her.

He wanted to. Perhaps, he also needed to.

It was his last day in the city, and Levi didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. He didn't want to leave without seeing Hange one last time.

Fuck it, he decided. He was a thief, right? Only natural for him to steal one last moment with Hange.

He opened their last chat.

hey, want to hang out this evening?

He pressed send before the doubt could resurface.

The reply didn't come immediately. He expected just as much. He wanted, hoped that Hange would answer immediately, but that was unrealistic desire. Hange was probably working, and, thanks to him and Kenny, she probably had to deal with even more work than usual.

He didn't expect an immediate answer, so Levi went to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea. He then went to his room and started packing his things.

One hour passed, two, three.

No reply.

There was nothing left for him to do - with his suitcase full and apartment clean, he didn't know how to occupy himself.

Sitting in his room and staring at his phone like a loser seemed too pathetic even for him.

He was beginning to contemplate if he should call Hange instead of texting, when his phone screen finally lighted up. He eagerly opened the message.

I'm busy.

He stared at the text for a few moments, not quite sure what to make out of it.

It seemed so cold, so detached. So unlike Hange.

He deserved it, though, he knew he did. Question was - did Hange know it too?

So that was it then. The end of... Whatever he and Hange had.

An almost all consuming sense of hollowness settled in his chest as he came to this realization.

It didn't go according to the scenario he had envisioned in his head. But that's how it went in the end. Hange was busy and he was leaving. There was nothing he could do about it.

Wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to make him feel any better, so Levi forced himself to move. He hid the phone into his pocket and rose to his feet.

He walked out of his room, searching for Kenny.

He wasn't in his own room, packing his things like Levi had told him to. He wasn't in the living room, lazing on a coach with a bottle of beer and cigarette, either.

Instead he was in a kitchen, sitting behind a dining table with legs propped up on chair. Kenny was talking with someone on a phone, a suspicious smile playing on his lips. That smile wasn't the usual malicious or greedy one, no, that one was uncharacteristically pleased. It seemed like whoever he was talking to, Kenny liked them.

That made Levi pause and narrow his eyes, staring intently at his uncle.

"Thanks for the offer, dear, I'll call you back as soon as me and my nephew polish your plan a bit.”

Levi was barely fast enough to catch his jaw. Dear? Plan? The hell Kenny was talking too?

"Levi!" putting the phone down, Kenny turned to him with that weird smile still plastered on his lips. "It's good you're already here. I have great news! I found another job for us!"

An- another job? Levi couldn't believe what he was hearing. Surely Kenny couldn't be serious.

"We are leaving the city this night," Levi gritted, boring holes into his uncle. "Did you forget about that?"

"Ah, that," Kenny waved his hand and Levi had to stop himself from breaking that hand. "We have to postpone it a bit. Just one job, and we can leave."

Anger was starting to boil inside him. There was so much of it - remnants of last night's incident, frustration brought to him by Hange's text - that Levi had trouble breathing. He balled his hands into fists, resisting the growing urge to lash out at Kenny.

"You promised," he spoke in a voice so low, so tense it was barely audible. "You promised we would leave after the last job."

"And we fucked it up, didn't we?" Kenny retorted, the smile slipping from his lips. His expression darkened, as he met Levi's scowl squarely. "And if we're going to leave like you keep pushing me to, then we need money, Levi. And this job will provide us with enough to last for a few years."

"You said the same thing about last job," Levi reminded, refusing to back down.

"And I was wrong about that," Kenny rolled his eyes. "But this job isn't from Reiss. It's from someone I trust."

Levi arched an eyebrow doubtfully, and Kenny muttered a curse.

"As much as I can trust someone," he admitted with a sigh. "It's a legit job, and it's fairly easy."

"How easy?"

"We already have a plan of the building, a way to the vault and even a way out."

"And what's the catch?" Levi frowned. "If someone has that much info and opportunities, why ask for our help?"

"Ah," Kenny grinned. "Traute is very smart. Very talented too, but, unfortunately, she is not as good at dealing with safes and locked doors as you are."

"Traute? Who the fuck is that?"

"Oh right, you haven't met her. Traute used to be... a partner of mine," the not so subtle implication and the dreamy look in Kenny's eyes made Levi wince. There was nothing in the world he was less interested in than Kenny's partners. "We had so much fun in the past... During the heists and, you know..."

"I don't, and I don't want to," Levi grumbled. "Get to the point, Kenny. When are you planning to rob the place? We can't stay here for too long."

The weird thing was that, despite his insistency and constant urgency, Kenny didn't even ask why they had to leave, and so swiftly. It left Levi with two possible explanations - either, his uncle knew something too, or, he trusted him enough not to question his motives. Levi wasn't sure which one was more outlandish.

"In two days," Kenny answered. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to get on a plane that very same night. If we're extra lucky," he wiggled his eyebrows. "Traute will agree to go with us."

"In that case, I'd better run to another part of the world."

"It will go smoothly," Kenny rose up, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. "Don't you worry. No surprises this time."

Levi wished he could believe him.

***

"No!" Traute raised her hands as soon as the unhinged detective started approaching her. "No hidden cameras, wires or other stuff. It's too risky."

Kenny, that sly bastard would find them either way, no matter where detective Hange decided hide the devices. Setting a trap on him was already dangerous as it was, they did not need additional hazards.

"I can't just let you go there unsupervised," detective Hange glowered, running a hand through her hair in frustration. Traute almost felt bad for her, she could only imagine how much stress the detective was under. The operation and recent murder, all of it fell onto her and she was already on a verge of breakdown. Traute could see it in her red-rimmed eyes and sagged shoulders. "What guarantee do I have that you won't betray us?"

Traute huffed. The answer to that was laughably obvious. "Because I value my freedom much more than a man I used to rob banks with fifteen years ago. I know it's hard for you," it was hard for her too, trusting someone from police to keep their word. However, detective Hange seemed like a sort of person who wouldn't back out on a promise. That sort of people infatuated Traute, but Hange appeared as an honest, trustworthy person. Maybe, in another life, Traute would have respected that. Or, maybe, Hange Zoe would have irritated her even more. But as it was now, Traute had no choice but to rely on her. And she needed Hange to do the same. She laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly. "You have to trust me. It's the only guarantee I can give to you."

"If this fails—" Hange sighed, pushing the hair out of her face. For a second, Traute saw a look of uncertainty on her face, but Hange blinked and it was gone. "This operation can't fail," she declared passionately.

The newfound fire in her eyes was almost inspiring.

Traute found herself smiling at her. "It won't."

"Alright," Hange rubbed her hands together, turning to her desk. "Let's run through the plan one more time. You come to the Ackermans and..."

"I show them the blueprints you gave me."

"Right," Hange nodded, satisfied. "And then what do you say..."

"I say..."

***

"This entrance will be left unguarded," Traute tapped her finger against the small dot on a drawing. "You two can sneak in and then..."

"And how do you know that it will be unguarded?"

Traute huffed, rising her gaze from the blueprints. Although, considering the height of Kenny's nephew, she didn't need to raise it too high. He was as short as he was irritating. Traute now knew why Kenny never introduced them. Kenny was an asshole, who could backstab you seemingly at the smallest whim, but, at least, talking with him was pleasant. The same, unfortunately, couldn't be said for his nephew. It was the fifth time he had interrupted her in the last ten minutes. Calling him annoying was starting to become an understatement.

"Levi, give Traute a break," Kenny cut in. "She knows what she's doing, believe me."

This didn't seem to placate Levi. "I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

Jesus. And she thought Kenny was too suspicious.

"Go on, dear," Kenny urged. "Don't mind my nephew, he still hasn't learnt his manners."

"Then you move to this hallway," Traute continued, ignoring Levi's glare she felt at the back of her head. She couldn't wait until this goddamned mission would be over. She'd be ecstatic to see him behind bars. "It leads right to the vault..."

"And what can we steal from museum's vault? Don't they put everything valuable on display?"

God, another interruption and Traute would throttle the annoying midget.

"They don't always put originals in there," she gritted through her teeth, showing him the glare of her own. "And if you take a painting or two from that vault, it'll be enough to last you for a lifetime."

"That is," Levi didn't back down. "We find a buyer."

"Oi!" Kenny clasped his back. "Don't embarrass me, Levi! Of course, Traute already found a buyer, that's how these things are always done," he turned to Traute then, looking her up and down. "You found someone already, right?"

"Of course," Traute nodded, hiding a smile that threatened to break her face at just the thought of their so called buyer. Would serve the two assholes well, for all the frustration they were causing her right now. "All you need to do is steal the paintings."

"And you? What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"I'm taking care of security cameras and alarms."

"Hm," was all Levi had uttered, and Traute had never thought that just a short sound could make her go nearly insane with anger.

He surely had a talent.

Kenny looked over the blueprints, scratching his beard. "So those paintings..."

***

"So those paintings would actually be there? The vault won't be empty?" Traute asked, staring at Hange in surprise. That seemed like an unnecessary risk. Should anything go awry...

"We have to catch them red-handed, remember? But we won't put originals in here. Just something that could be mistaken for them in the dark."

That part could easily backfire too. Of course, detective Hange had already mentioned the dark room, and that would undoubtedly make identifying the paintings a lot harder, but still... Kenny was insanely good at that kind of stuff. It was natural, of course, considering how many years he had spent in this line of job.

"They could realize it's a forgery," Trautedecided to voice her doubts.

"They could," Hange agreed. "But if something goes wrong and they manage to escape with original paintings..." she dropped her head into her hands, letting out a quiet whine. "Dawk will have my head. All brass would have my head, press would have my head, even Erwin..." she shuddered. "Even he would have my head."

"Alright," Traute nodded, more than a little disturbed by detective's shaking shoulders. "Should we move on?"

"Yes!" Hange exclaimed, way too loudly. She raised her head and the almost manic look in her eyes made Traute even more alarmed. She wanted to ask if maybe they should take a break, detective Hange looked like she really needed it, but she started talking before Trautecould even open her mouth.

"You have the most important job, Caven," Hange said, putting hands on her shoulders and staring straight into her eyes. "We can’t put a police officer in the security control room, that could raise Ackermans’ suspicion, so you’ll be the one monitoring their movement. You need to watch Ackermans closely, and you have to make sure they use the exit we'll be patrolling."

"We? How many 'we' are you talking about?"

"Not much. We can't risk attracting attention, so we can't use a lot of people. The team will consist of me and a couple of other officers."

That was a smart choice. A choice that maybe would lead to success of the whole operation.

Once Kenny told her that cops smelled so bad he could actually feel their stench from miles away. Traute wasn't very keen on finding out if it was a particularly bad attempt at humor or another talent of his.

"Once we catch them and apprehend them, your sentence will be cut in half. And that's it."

***

"That's it?" Levi scrunched his nose. "Sounds—"

"Amazing!" Kenny guffawed, shooting Traute a brilliant smile. "Thank you for this offer, dear. You won't regret it."

Oh. Traute was most certain she would not.

"If you want to know more, you can ask—"

"No need," Kenny assured her. "We've heard everything we needed to."

Good. Because Traute told them everything she knew. Should they ask for more details, she'd have to resort to lying and improvising. And that could not only damage their operation, it could also raise Kenny's suspicion. Traute was good at lying, and Kenny... Kenny was good at seeing through everyone's lies.

She grabbed her purse, eager to get out of here as quickly as possible. "I'll see you..."

"In two days," Kenny promised. "We'll be there, don't worry. We're not stupid enough to let this opportunity slide. Well," he grinned. "Levi here might be a little stupid—"

"Oi!" Levi hissed, looking just like an angry cat.

Traute rolled her eyes, watching the two men bicker. She was more than done with them.

"In two days," she reminded them.

She wasn't sure if they heard her, and, frankly, she didn't care. She knew they would show up. Kenny wasn't a man to pass a good job.

She walked out of the hotel room Kenny had rented, because of course the distrustful jerk couldn't let her see their apartment, and exhaled in relief.

The first part was done.

She took out her phone, typing a short message for detective Hange.

The trap is set ***

His eyes were already hurting, watering because of his intense stare, but Levi persevered, looking over the blueprints once again. There got to be something he missed. Some minor detail, a small, miniscule catch.

There got to be. This theft couldn't possibly be so easy.

Several extremely expensive paintings just lying around in some vault? Without any guards to protect them?

Either the museum stuff was incredible careless and unprofessional, or... Traute was lying to them.

It was the most plausible explanation, and yet... Kenny seemed to believe her. He trusted her, as much, of course, as Kenny could trust someone who wasn't himself.

And if Kenny, the most distrustful bastard in the world, trusted someone, it meant that the person had already proved themselves to him ten times over.

However... However Levi still felt uneasy.

And so he continued staring at the blueprints, searching for something that most probably wasn't even there.

He studied the image so intently, he missed the moment when the screen of his phone that lied next to him lightened up. It lightened up a second time, two minutes later, but Levi paid no attention to it either. It was only when it started ringing, startling him, that he finally looked down at it.

He blinked a few times, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Hange was calling him.

He rushed to take the device in his hands, his finger trembling as he accepted the call.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice shaking so slightly.

"Hi!" Hange replied, sounding a little out of breath. Levi wondered what was she doing and where was she. He heard some noises, cars honking and wind blowing. Was she outside? "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Levi glanced at the clock hanging on a wall beside him. It was almost two in the morning. He didn't even notice.

"No. I haven't gone to bed yet."

"You should," Hange said, and Levi closed his eyes, picturing her slightly frowning face. She probably narrowed her eyes and pushed her glasses up in attempt to look more serious. "It's late. Don't you have work in a morning? Where is it that you're working, by the way? I don't quite remember..."

Because Levi had never told her.

He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "I'm working in accounting."

"Oh right! Is it exciting?"

Levi's lips twitched, as he fought back a smile. "It has its moments."

"Good! It's important to love your work!"

Levi snorted. "You have way too much energy for two am, you know that?"

"Sorry," Hange laughed. "It's been a long day, or a week..." she trailed off. "Perhaps even a month... Sorry for calling so spontaneously, I just... wanted to hear your voice, I guess."

God, what a nuisance. Making his heart skip a beat just with a couple of words. Either Hange possessed some kind of super power or... he was just that pathetic.

He didn't realize it, but he missed the sound of her voice too. And her face, her lively expressions, radiant smiles. Maybe, they could...

"Hey, Levi," Hange brought him back to present. "Can we facetime?"

So now she was a mind reader as well?

“Alright," he said, trying not to sound too eager. Hange didn't need to know just how much he enjoyed her company.

"Great! I'll call you a back in a moment!"

Levi used that moment to check himself in the mirror behind him. His blue hoodie seemed good enough, not too wrinkled and without any stains. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it, and forced himself to relax. It was just a simple phone call, nothing to lose his mind over.

In the next second, his phone started ringing again, and he almost smiled.

Nothing to lose his mind over, he reminded himself as he accepted the call. He raised the phone to his face and went to sit on the bed.

Hange waved at him, grinning goofily. Her face was barely illuminated by a phone screen, but even in the darkness Levi saw purple circles under her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted, and yet... inexplicably relaxed.

"It's good to see your face," Hange said, forcing his heart to skip yet another beat. "Wanna see something cool?" without waiting for reply, she turned the phone around, showing Levi a view of a street below from her balcony window. Hange lived in the middle of a city, a few blocks away from him. The night city was splendid - bright, vibrant, alive. The lights poured from every side and even now, in the middle of the night, the streets down below were full of life.

He was going to miss this.

Although, as much as he appreciated the view of the city he grew in, Hange's face was far more interesting for him right now.

Not knowing how to ask her to turn the camera back without sounding utterly moronic, Levi let out a tch sound, and grunted, "get inside. You're going to catch a cold in weather like this."

"Nah," Hange's face was finally staring back at him. "I've got this to keep me warm," she pointed to a blanket that was sliding down her shoulder, showing her sharp clavicle. "And this!" she lifted a bottle of beer, drinking from it.

Levi rolled his eyes. "It's not very professional to get drunk in the middle of a week, you know."

"I won't get drunk on one beer," Hange argued, wiping her mouth. "Besides... It helps to calm my nerves. I have a big day tomorrow..."

He was going to have a big day, or, rather night tomorrow too.

Fuck it, Levi decided, getting to his feet.

"I'll be back," he told Hange and hurriedly left the room, confused 'heys' following after him.

He returned a moment later, holding a bottle of beer of his own.

"Cheers," he grunted, opening it and taking a swing.

"It's not very professional to get drunk in the middle of a week, you know," Hange mimicked his voice, accompanying it by a horrible parody of his face expression.

"It's your damn influence," he shot back.

As he took another swing, all tension that was building inside his shoulders ever since their last theft disappeared. Perhaps, Hange was right and beer did help. Or, perhaps, it was Hange's bright smile that relaxed him so.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Hange asked.

Hopefully, leaving this city behind, Levi thought, but decided not to voice his thoughts. Instead, he shrugged, mumbling, "dunno yet."

"There is a skating rink, it's right outside the precinct," Hange smiled dreamily, playing with her hair. "I have been staring at it for days now, people are having so much fun! Do you want to go?"

"I—"

"It's okay if you don't!" Hange quickly assured. "We could go to some other place or maybe not go anywhere at all..."

"I don't know how to skate," Levi mumbled, embarrassed all of a sudden. "Never learnt."

"I can teach you!" Hange offered, the sparkle in her eyes burning so brightly, Levi could see it through a phone screen. "We would probably end up with dozens of bruises, but it'll be fun, I swear! And then we could order hot cocoa, warm up at a cozy cafe..."

None of it was going to happen, but it was two in the morning and the beer left a bitter taste in his mouth, making him feel snug and comfortable, so he let himself indulge in that little fantasy Hange had created. He imagined a skating rink, illuminated by soft, pretty colors. He tried to imagine how skates would feel on his legs, how they would make him slightly taller. And he imagined Hange's hand in his, her deep melodic voice explaining him how to move his legs and keep his balance. He could almost hear her laughter and feel the cold sipping through the back of his pants as both of them came tumbling down in a heap of limbs.

"I see you like the idea," Hange gently teased, taking note of the content expression on his face. "Then it's settled!"

"Alright..." Levi murmured, washing the feeling of regret with another gulp of beer.

Maybe, he shouldn't have been so adamant about leaving.

No. Levi instantly stopped himself. They had to leave. Because if they wouldn't, Hange would find out who he really was.

Hange liked him, but not the real him. She liked Levi the accountant. If she knew Levi Ackerman, the famous thief, she'd hate him.

And he didn't wish for that to happen.

"It's getting late," he noted, the clock on his phone showing almost three in the morning. "We should go to bed."

"Yeah," Hange mumbled, yawning. She finished her beer and gave Levi a soft, sleepy smile. "Thanks for talking with me, Levi. I appreciate it. And..." she paused, picking at the wrapping on the bottle. "I just wanna say... I'm glad life threw us together."

"It wasn't life," Levi scoffed. "You fell down on me."

Hange chuckled, scratching her neck in embarrassment. "Maybe, it was fate... Maybe, some deity wanted me to fall for you..."

"That was terrible," Levi grunted, making Hange giggle. "Go to sleep already."

"I'll call you soon, alright?"

"I'll be waiting," Levi promised.

Hange smiled one last time and disconnected.

Levi stared at the now black screen for another moment.

He broke out of his trance with a low curse. He was getting too pathetic for his own good.

He finished the beer and took off his hoodie, heading to the bathroom.

Hange was right. A big day was ahead of him.

***

“Traute is already in the control room,” Kenny informed. “If anything goes wrong, she’ll tell us.”

Levi nodded, hoping than nothing would go wrong this time. For now, it seemed like it truly wouldn’t.

Just as Traute had promised, getting inside was almost laughably easy. No guards, no alarm, the backdoor wasn't even locked.

"Stealing is becoming too easy, eh, Levi?"

He leveled Kenny with a long, hard look.

It was a good thing Levi made them wear a mask. There didn't seem to be any security cameras - at least, he couldn't see any that were still functional, it seemed like Traute had held her end of the bargain. But Levi didn't allow himself to relax.

Relax, and they could fuck up again.

However, masks gave him at least some semblance of comfort. They were cheap, ridiculous things bought by Kenny at a carnival during one of his drunken adventures. They did their job, though. If there was a hidden camera somewhere or they happen upon a lonely guard or late working employee, no one would see their faces.

Perhaps, they would be able to avoid another senseless murder then.

They quietly moved through the hallway, and as they did so, it was hard for Levi not to gawk at his surroundings. A painting here, an antique tapestry and extravagant vase there. He was honestly surprised Kenny hadn't started grabbing everything he could. If so much stuff was located there, in a dark-lit hallway, Levi could only imagine what was waiting for them in the vault.

He turned around the corner, coming to a stop in front of the stairway. Everything was just as Caven had planned it. And yet... the worry lingered.

"We don't have all night, brat," Kenny gave him a rough push.

Levi sent him another dark glare, but complied, starting his descent. The vault was there, at the end of the stairway.

Grab the paintings, and he was free. They could leave the city, save themselves.

Leave everything behind.

Levi gulped, swallowing a lump that appeared out of nowhere. Get yourself together, he scolded himself, taking another step down.

Soon the door to the vault was right in front of them. Not wasting another second on doubts and worries, Levi dropped to his knees, taking out his instruments and starting to work on a lock.

"There," just after a few seconds, the lock was dealt with. Levi stood up, pushing the door open. "Let's get this over with."

***

The street seemed so empty. No car passing by, no peculiar pedestrian or even a stray cat, only a bright red light of some bar's signboard that kept flicking on and off. Just like the street they parked at, the bar appeared to be devoid of any life.

Hange scoffed, jerkily moving a lock of hair from her face. She never thought she would say it about one of the most important missions in her life, but she felt bored.

She wanted the action to start already. Wanted to rush in there, catch the damned Ackermans in the act and then revel in the shock and fear in their eyes.

The satisfaction Hange would get out of this surely would be more than enough to overshadow all frustration the thieves had caused her.

"Hange," Mike shook her shoulder. "Caven had just given a signal. The Ackermans are inside the vault."

Finally!

Without wasting any second, Hange opened the door of the police van and jumped out on a street. She heard Erwin's exasperated curse but didn't stop to listen to him, rushing to the entrance of the museum.

Finally, finally, finally.

A whole year of hard work, of everyone doubting her and telling her to just quit, and now she was there, had Ackermans trapped just like she had planned to.

Hange smiled as she felt other footsteps joining hers, the rest of the team already on the move.

No one had believed in her, not even Erwin, but Hange had proved them all wrong. She had done the impossible, caught thieves who were considered untraceable and invisible.

All Hange had to do now was claim her reward.

***

The vault was very different from what Levi had envisioned for himself. He imagined something big, grand, something appropriate for the spectacular art the room was holding.

But in reality, he and Kenny entered a dark, narrow and dusty room. It looked more like a closet than an actual vault.

Kenny didn't waste time surveying his surroundings. He dived in, taking the first thing he happened upon. He unfolded the parch of paper, tilting his head to study it more closely.

"Flashlight, Levi," he demanded, outstretching his hand.

Levi handed it to him, getting to work himself. He wasn't nearly as skilled in art as Kenny was, but seven times out of ten he could distinguish original from forgery just as easily.

"Seems legit," Kenny muttered. "Looks like Traute didn't lie."

Levi paused for a second, turning to stare at his uncle. Here he was, tormenting himself with doubts, and Kenny wasn't so sure about their alliance either?

"You didn't trust her?"

Kenny barked a short laugh. "I wouldn't still be alive, kid, if I trusted people left and right."

"Then why have you agreed to the job?"

"Because," he shrugged. "I wouldn't still be doing it if it wasn't for greed."

Levi scoffed. Of course. What other answer could he expect from Kenny.

"We'll use other exit, by the way," Kenny remarked, shooting a quick glance at Levi. "You studied the blueprints well, right?"

"As best as I could."

He could close his eyes and see it clearly, all entrances and exits, all dead ends and turns. Seemed like feeding Levi's suspicion was a part of Kenny's plan as well. Scheming bastard.

"Then come up with a different route. And quickly," Kenny shoved another folded painting into his backpack. "We're almost done here."

Levi started thinking, turning the imaginary blueprint in his head this and that way. There was only one way to exit the vault. The stairway was inevitable too. But once they reached the hallway, they could take another turn and head to the front entrance. It was a bold move, too bold, perhaps, they didn't know if guards were stationed in other parts of museum or not, but it was the only way.

"Alright," Kenny seized his shoulder. "We're done here. Are you ready?"

Levi nodded and immediately started moving, leading Kenny out.

They left the vault and the stairway was empty. Still, Levi stopped for a second, listening closely. The museum above them seemed silent. Feeling a little more confident, he quickened his pace, taking two steps at a time.

As he reached the top of the stairway, he drew a deep breath, walked into the hallway—

And came face to face with Hange.

*** Hange doubled down, taking one shallow breath after another. Perhaps, Erwin was right in scolding her. She was a little too excited to get there. And now she was completely out of breath.

That won't do, she thought. She didn't want to face Ackermans panting and sweaty.

Hange straightened out, pushed her glasses up and fixed her shirt and coat.

She glanced over her back, giving Mike and Erwin a slight node. They nodded back and Hange took out her gun. The recent murder had proved that Ackermans were always armed and they didn't hesitate to kill. She hoped she wouldn’t need the gun, but just in case…

Hange took another deep breath and prepared to rush in.

However, before she could take a single step forward, two figures appeared right in front of her.

She grinned triumphantly.

Seemed like luck was on her side tonight. Ackermans came straight into her arms.

***

Levi didn't know how long he would have stayed there, staring into Hange's eyes, if it weren't for Kenny's hand that grasped his sleeve and pulled him forward.

"Shit!" Kenny shouted, as they started running.

The rest of Hange's team - Levi didn't know how many there were, there was no time to stop and glance back - followed after them.

Hange was on the front, hot on their heels.

Damn her long legs, Levi cursed.

So Traute had betrayed them, sold them out to police. She was going to pay for that, Levi could clearly see it in the way Kenny gritted his teeth.

"Stop!" Hange shouted. "You're surrounded, there's no point in running!"

"We'll see about that," Kenny muttered and pushed Levi sideways, forcing him to take a sharp turn.

They could have split up, perhaps, it would slow down their pursuers, but Levi knew it was pointless. There were too many of them to create an efficient diversion.

"Do you remember the blueprint?" Kenny breathlessly asked.

Levi nodded, catching his gaze behind the ridiculous mask.

"Good. Then I have an idea. We need to lose at least some of our tail first. Make them stumble."

Levi nodded again, and suddenly took a turn, running to the door. It was another risky move, the door could have been closed, but, thankfully, their luck haven't died out yet. Levi tumbled inside the dark room. If he remembered correctly, there had to be another door at the other side. He located it fairly quickly and headed there. He opened the door, waited for Kenny to get through and pushed it closed, careful not to look behind his back. If he met Hange's eyes again, he wasn't sure he would be able to look away.

He ran into the hallway and took the first door to his left. He kept pushing forward, leaving one room and going into another. Soon the sound of footsteps that followed after them had decreased. However, someone was still pursuing them. Levi prayed it wasn't Hange.

"That will do nicely," Kenny grinned as they appeared in the middle of another long hallway. "Good job, Levi," he threw, coming to a sudden stop.

Levi's heart stopped as he saw Kenny take out his gun. His knees nearly gave out beneath him as he saw Hange appear at the end of the same hallway.

Kenny's hand shot up, aiming the gun right at her head.

Kenny never missed, Levi knew that. He was a witness to his uncle's incredible skills just days ago. The light fading from that man's eyes, his face forever etched in the expression of fear, Levi could never forget that.

He couldn't let Hange suffer the same fate.

He couldn't and— he wouldn't.

It all happened in a span of a heartbeat.

Levi looked up, saw Kenny's finger at the trigger, saw it move and curl and—

And just before he could pull it, just before the shot rang, Levi launched himself at Kenny, pushing the arm with a gun down.

The shot still rang, Hange still screamed. She swayed, falling against the wall—

Kenny never missed, and this time wasn't an exception. But it was as close to exception, as one could get. He hadn't shot her head or her heart. Hange was clutching her shoulder, her already bloodied shoulder, the sight of which made Levi almost ran to her, made his hands tremble with desire to help.

It took all of his willpower to stay put.

Hange was alive, wounded, but still alive. Levi could breathe again.

As Levi was watching Hange, Kenny was watching him. Levi could feel the weight of his gaze, burning into the side of his head. He tore his eyes away from Hange, staring back at his uncle. Kenny's eyes were full of anger and incomprehension. Before he could reach any conclusion, though, they heard approaching footsteps.

"Hurry up," Kenny curled his hand around Levi's forearm, roughly yanking him forward.

Levi stole another glance at Hange, his heart breaking as he saw her slowly pushing herself up, determination pushing her forward despite the injury.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed and left her behind.

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 9/14)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage fic. I feel confident enough in the remainder of my outline to finally put the end chapter number up top, though of course, it’s subject to change because I’m, you know, me. (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3, chapter 6 tumblr | AO3, chapter 7 tumblr | AO3, chapter 8 tumblr | AO3)

Rarely has this Author been so inundated with the same piece of news, and so while most readers likely already know this, it must still be reported for those apparently unaware or living under a rock: the Marquess of Enjolras has made his triumphant return to the city.

But those hoping to catch a glimpse of the new Marchioness will find themselves disappointed: the Marchioness has returned to her family home, having apparently fallen ill while on her honeymoon. Still, there is plenty of time left in the season for her to make an appearance, so all hope is not lost.

And while she has not yet taken her place in the Enjolras manor, this Author has learned that her brother has been invited to stay with the Marquess, a move that gives no credence to the rumors that the two have fallen out ahead of the Marquess’s marriage to Mr. Grantaire’s sister. Indeed, if anything, the pair’s unlikely friendship seems only stronger now, which only proves that the marriage mart truly does make strange bedfellows.

Far more important than their living situation, of course, is the annual de Courfeyrac ball this very evening. With the Marquess back in town, he is certain to attend, and this Author is equally certain that even without his new bride to accompany him, all eyes will surely be on the one bachelor who got away…LADY WHISTELDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 14 MAY 1831

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” Enjolras grumbled, though he reluctantly stopped playing with the cuff of his shirtsleeves. 

Grantaire rolled his eyes as the receiving line at the de Courfeyrac Ball inched forward. “You are so,” he said in an undertone. “And leave your damned cravat alone, it took me near a quarter hour to get it to lay right.”

Enjolras had barely even starting to reach up to adjust his cravat, and his hand fell back to his side as he gave Grantaire a look. “Yes, but only because you were the one who untied it in the first place.”

As Grantaire had indeed been the one who had untied it, in the carriage ride over to the de Courfeyrac manor, mostly to give himself better access to Enjolras’s neck, his self-satisfied grin was somewhat to be expected. “Yes, well, can you really blame me?” he murmured, eyeing Enjolras appreciatively. “I know you hate formal dress, but by God, man, you were made to wear an evening coat.”

Enjolras could not help but preen at that, just a little, even as he warned Grantaire teasingly, “Keep looking at me like that and our cover will be blown sooner than you think.”

Grantaire just laughed lightly. “Please,” he said dismissively. “I’ve been looking at you like this for ten years now with none the wiser.” He paused and considered it. “Or at least, with none willing to comment on it, and I doubt very much that would change now.”

But Enjolras was still focused on the first part of what Grantaire had said. “You’ve really been looking at me like this for a decade?”

Grantaire smirked. “Again, can you blame me?”

Enjolras hesitated, wondering for not the first time what it had been like for Grantaire, to love him as he had for as long as he had, and with Enjolras among those none the wiser. “Does it bother you that I never noticed?”

“I think it would have bothered me more if you had,” Grantaire said, sounding a little surprised by the question. “I wasn’t ready for you to know before.”

“And now?”

Grantaire shrugged, a little helplessly. “Well, that cat’s quite out of the bag regardless, isn’t it?” he asked, before his voice softened, just slightly. “Besides, no matter how prepared I was, it was worth it in the end.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “Keep talking like that and I might be tempted to do something untowards,” he murmured, bending his head toward Grantaire.

“Scandalous,” Grantaire said, with a wicked smirk. “Besides, keep talking like that and I might just let you.”

Enjolras let out a laugh, but his amusement did not last long. As the line barely moved, he could not help but bounce on the balls of his feet, trying to glance over the top of the receiving line. “I wish Courf would just let us go in with having to go through the whole thing,” he muttered.

“Yes, I too wish my friends would allow me to break all social protocol just because I dread having to sit through it,” Grantaire said wryly. “But alas, seeing as how we live in the real world…”

He trailed off as the line started moving again, and finally, with only a few more minutes’ delay, Enjolras and Grantaire were at the front of the receiving line. “Enjolras!” Courfeyrac called, sounding elated, and he grasped Enjolras by both shoulders before leaning in and kissing both his cheeks. “And Grantaire!” To Enjolras’s surprise, he embraced Grantaire in much the same way – and judging by Grantaire’s wide eyes, he was equally surprised.

“Christ, Courfeyrac, have you been borrowing Jehan’s opium?” Grantaire muttered when Courfeyrac finally released him.

Courfeyrac ignored him, just beaming at both of them. “From brothers in arms to brothers in law!” he trilled, clapping his hands together. “What an unexpected twist to this tale. Enjolras, you must find me later and fill me in on the details.”

Enjolras tried to smile, though he was pretty sure it looked more like a wince. “I am certain you would track me down if I didn’t.”

Courfeyrac laughed loudly and waved them through. For as long as he had waited to finally get inside, Enjolras found himself hesitating at the ballroom entrance, dreading what welcome awaited him within in the wake of his ‘scandal’ and marriage.

As if sensing exactly what he was feeling, Grantaire found his hand and covertly squeezed it, his own hand warm and strong in Enjolras’s. “Be easy,” he whispered in Enjolras’s ear, and for the first time all evening, Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

Of course, he tensed once again when they finally entered the ballroom, and the first person Enjolras saw across the way was Combeferre. He reached out blindly for Grantaire’s arm, gripping his elbow harder than he likely needed to. 

This was always going to be the hardest part of their charade, as Enjolras had confided in Grantaire the previous night as they lay together in his bed, neither one tired enough yet to fall asleep. “I don’t know what to tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac,” he had confessed, turning so that he was facing Grantaire.

“What were you planning on telling them before?” Grantaire had asked, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Before what?” Enjolras had asked.

Grantaire had given him a look. “Before, when it was just a straightforward fictional marriage,” he said dryly.

“Oh.” Enjolras flushed slightly. “Frankly, I hadn’t given it much thought. I was certainly going to allude to the arrangement solving certain matters with my mother, and let them draw their own conclusions.”

“And that same answer will no longer suffice?”

Enjolras had drawn Grantaire close to kiss him lightly. “Frankly, I suspect my interactions with you will undermine the credibility of that explanation. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are not stupid, and decidedly more observant than myself.”

Grantaire’s expression softened. “Then we need not interact in front of them,” he had said quietly. “I am overdue in seeing Joly and Bossuet, and it is not as if any of our friends expects me to be at your side all evening. Or at all, frankly.”

While Enjolras had agreed at the time, now, faced with the reality of the situation, he wanted nothing more than Grantaire to stay at his side. But Grantaire was already pulling away, even as the look he gave Enjolras was gentle, and understanding. “They’re your friends,” he reminded Enjolras in an undertone.

“They’re your friends as well,” Enjolras muttered. “And they will likely forgive neither of us for the deception.”

“Forgive? Perhaps not, or at least not immediately. But they will understand.”

“Will they?” Enjolras asked, more rhetorical than anything, and mostly because Grantaire had already abandoned him, making a beeline to where Joly and Bossuet were talking quietly together in the corner.

With no excuse left, Enjolras crossed to where Combeferre waited, feeling more nervous than he frankly expected to be. Combeferre’s expression was completely neutral as he approached, which did not help Enjolras’s nerves. “Hello,” Combeferre said when Enjolras finally reached him. “Long time no see. Anything new with you?”

Enjolras laughed lightly. Combeferre’s dry humor had never before failed to put him at ease, and this was no exception. “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” he said airily before adding, in a more serious tone, “I certainly doubt either you or I were expecting the events of the past few weeks.”

“After the scene your mother made at the Musain?” Combeferre returned with an arched eyebrow. “I expected you married within the fortnight. Grantaire’s sister was a twist I did not see coming.”

Enjolras shrugged, avoiding meeting Combeferre’s eyes. “Yes, well. A twist, but perhaps not as unpleasant a one as some would expect.”

Combeferre nodded slowly, looking at him closely. “Whatever anyone may say, you seem happy,” he remarked.

“Well, I am rid of my mother,” Enjolras said. “Or will be, once I hand over the dowry.”

Combeferre’s expression didn’t change as he took a sip of his drink. “I didn’t say you seemed relieved. I said you seem happy.”

As usual, Combeferre saw right through him, and Enjolras took a moment to compose his answer, opting for as much of the truth as he could give. “I suppose I am happy,” he said. “It’s...freeing, in a way, to know that part of my future is settled.”

“To be free,” Combeferre murmured. “What greater thing is there.”

Enjolras smiled. “Precisely.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “Well, if you are happy, then I am happy,” he assured Enjolras, before adding, in a slightly disapproving tone, “Of course, Grantaire’s going to be a bit insufferable for awhile, I suppose.”

Enjolras felt his heart stop. Had Combeferre figured them out so quickly? “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “Surely you realize – you’ve rather elevated his status.”

“In what way?”

“By marrying his sister, he is now brother-in-law to a marquess,” Combeferre said slowly, and Enjolras felt immediate relief that he had not figured him out. “Which may very well make him the most eligible bachelor here. A fact I’m certain he’s realized, even if you haven’t.”

He nodded towards the corner that Grantaire had headed to, but where previously he’d been in conversation with Joly and Bossuet, now they seemed surrounded by numerous young women. Enjolras’s initial relief was replaced by a pit in his stomach as he watched one such lady laugh, touching Grantaire’s arm in a way that made Enjolras’s vision go red.

Combeferre, as he always seemed to be, was correct. Before, Grantaire had been notorious as a rake whose sole redeeming quality was association with many powerful peers and gentry. But now, while he may still offer no title, he offered societal status that far too many mothers would crave for their daughters.

And even though Grantaire seemed quite convinced of his affection for Enjolras, there was little doubt that this could change things. After all, while Enjolras would get no enjoyment from marriage to any woman in the entire city, Grantaire very well might.

He was so busy watching Grantaire flirt (or at least, not automatically brush the young women off, which was tantamount to the same thing in Enjolras’s mind) that he barely noticed when Combeferre was pulled into a different conversation entirely, leaving him standing alone. It ended up for the best, though, as he then had no need to make an excuse for crossing the ballroom, making a beeline for Grantaire.

But he was intercepted on his way by Éponine Thenárdier, who blocked his path entirely. “Lord Enjolras,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

Enjolras jerked a nod. “Miss Thenárdier,” he muttered, trying in vain to sidestep her, but she moved swiftly to again block his path. 

“You must allow me to congratulate you on your nuptials,” she told him, her tone saccharine. “I wish you nothing but happiness, no matter how surprising the event was.”

Internally, Enjolras rolled his eyes, knowing damn well that she was trying to goad him into sharing details that would almost invariably make their way into Lady Whistledown the moment he spoke them. Externally, he forced a smile that almost certainly looked more like a grimace. “I’m not certain there’s much of a causal link between surprise and happiness, but thank you nonetheless.”

Éponine laughed lightly. “But where is your lovely bride this evening?”

She almost certainly already knew the answer, having undoubtedly read about it like everyone else had in Lady Whistledown, but Enjolras nonetheless gritted his teeth and told her, “I’m afraid she is ill, and staying at her family home in the country until she recovers.”

“Oh, how dreadful,” she said, though Enjolras noted she didn’t sound particularly upset by the news. “And we were all so eager to meet her.”

“I’m sure you were,” Enjolras muttered, before Grantaire appeared without warning at his side.

“Isn’t it a lovely ball?” he asked, so brightly that Enjolras wondered for a moment if he had been hit in the head – or been hitting the whiskey already. “It is as if someone has unhooked the stars and put them on the table in the guise of candles, don’t you think?”

Éponine’s smile slipped, for just a moment. “Indeed,” she murmured politely, but the look she gave Grantaire was icy as she swept away, clearly put out at having her attempted interrogation so rudely interrupted.

Grantaire smirked as he watched her leave, resting his hand on Enjolras’s back, a little too low to be entirely proper. “The trick,” he murmured in Enjolras’s ear, “is to be so banal that absolutely no one wishes to continue the conversation.”

Despite himself and the jealousy he could still feel, Enjolras was unable to stop his smile. “Is that your secret?” he asked in an undertone.

“My secret is usually to get drunk as quickly as possible and then disappear without saying goodbye,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “But as I am in polite company—” He nodded his head graciously at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes affectionately. “—we must make do together.”

And indeed they did. Enjolras was shocked to find that Grantaire’s trick of not providing any details about his fictional wife and instead speaking of the decor, or the weather, or something equally boring was enough to forestall almost all conversation that followed. It helped, he realized, as he and Grantaire made the rounds together, that far fewer young women and their mothers attempted to monopolize his time or beg him for a dance, almost certainly because they had set their sights on more available targets, and the ones that did want to make conversation were after gossip, like Éponine, and easily thwarted.

But neither was what really made the evening bearable; instead, it was Grantaire who proved the difference in the evening.. Grantaire, always quick with a quip or scathing observation under his breath, who stayed by his side despite the invitations to dance that he received. Grantaire, who knew without Enjolras needing to say a word when they needed to stop for refreshments or be pulled away from the conversation. Grantaire, who was as easy a companion as Enjolras had ever had.

And Grantaire who was, according to Combeferre at least, now the most eligible bachelor in the place.

As much as Grantaire was turning this most dreaded part of his social obligations into, perhaps not the most anticipated, but at least something that could be enjoyed rather than merely endured, Enjolras could not shake what Combeferre had said, or the pit that formed in his stomach when he thought about it.

“Is everything alright?” Grantaire asked an hour or so later, his brow furrowed as he looked at Enjolras.

“Fine,” Enjolras said quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just a bit warm in here, do you not think?”

Grantaire studied him closely for a moment. “Perhaps we should step out onto the balcony,” he suggested. “Get some air.”

“That sounds like a good—”

“There you are!” Courfeyrac exclaimed with his usual exuberance as he joined them, oblivious to how close Enjolras had been to escaping. “As promised, since you did not come find me later as requested, I have instead hunted you down. And Grantaire is still at your side, how lovely.”

“Not for long,” Grantaire said, ignoring the pleading look Enjolras shot him. “I’m due for a refill. Anything for either of you?”

He did not wait for a reply, leaving Enjolras alone with Courfeyrac, whose smile had sharpened. “Come now, you can afford to look a little less panicked,” he said innocently, looping his arm through Enjolras’s. “After all, people will think you don’t wish to speak to one of your oldest friends.”

“Speak with, or be interrogated by?” Enjolras muttered.

Courfeyrac’s grin widened. “Potato, po-tah-to.” He patted Enjolras’s arm reassuringly. “But truly, more the former than the latter. Too many prying ears, and I’d rather learn the details of your scandal where they can’t be transmitted to the inimitable Lady Whistledown.”

Enjolras snorted. “Yes, that would be a shame,” he said dryly.

But something in his tone made Courfeyrac pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “I was hardly anticipating you being the model of wedded bliss, but you seem far too downtrodden for someone who must no longer put up with the marriage mart. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said, by instinct alone, and when Courfeyrac just looked at him, he sighed and relented. “Just something Combeferre said.”

He was expecting Courfeyrac to demand details, details that Enjolras would not be able to share without revealing the truth, but to his surprise, Courfeyrac just rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, ignore him,” he said. “He’s just jealous.”

Enjolras frowned. “Jealous?” he repeated. “Of what?”.

Courfeyrac looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “He thinks he’s been replaced, you fool,” he said impatiently, and when Enjolras still looked confused, added, “As your best friend. By Grantaire.”

The statement was so absurd that Enjolras barked a laugh before realizing Courfeyrac was entirely serious. “Really?” he asked derisively. “Forgive me, I did not realize we were still in the nursery.”

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Perhaps not, but you cannot deny that he used to be your partner in crime when it came to your schemes.” He gave Enjolras an appraising look. “And whatever else you may say, you and I, I think, can acknowledge that this is a scheme of some variety, though of which, I could not say.”

Enjolras felt stricken at the realization of how Combeferre had interpreted his involvement with Grantaire, which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. “I never thought—”

Courfeyrac patted his arm. “Of course you didn’t.”

Enjolras sighed and tugged his arm out of Courfeyrac’s grip. “Still, I should go apologize.”

“You should do no such thing,” Courfeyrac said firmly, turning to face him head on. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but even if you had, actions speak louder than words. Spend some time planning with him before the next Les Amis gathering, and all will be forgiven.”

“But not forgotten.”

Courfeyrac just looked amused. “My dear fellow, none of us, I think, will be able to forget the moment when you and Grantaire finally stopped trying to kill each other using just your words.” His expression softened. “And believe me, no matter what Combeferre may say, we’re all quite grateful that you have.” His eyebrows raised. “Speaking of Grantaire, I believe he wants a word.”

He nodded over Enjolras’s shoulder, and Enjolras turned to find Grantaire, holding two glasses of champagne and gesturing with his head toward the door that led out to the balcony. Enjolras nodded his understanding, and turned back to Courfeyrac, who had already disappeared into the crowd.

Enjolras crossed to the balcony door as quickly as possible to avoid being waylaid once more, and this time, he was successful. Never had he been so relieved to find himself alone and out of doors, even if the night was unseasonably cold. Grantaire laughed lightly from where he was leaning against the balcony railing. “You look like you need this more than I do,” he said, offering Enjolras one of the glasses of champagne.

Enjolras took it gratefully and drained it in one long gulp. “I did need that,” he told Grantaire, setting the empty glass down on the flat top of the wide marble balustrade. “I suppose I did not fully appreciate how complicated this all was going to be on my return.”

Grantaire eyed him carefully, his expression unreadable. “Curious,” he said lightly. “You normally think through every detail before you take any action.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Desperation apparently made me less thorough,” he said. “And, of course, there were unanticipated complications along the way that I did not account for.”

Grantaire let out a light, humorless laugh. “Am I to assume that I am one of those complications?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, not seeing any point in sugarcoating the truth. “Though a mostly welcome complication.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Who would have thought the word ‘mostly’ could feel like a dagger being driven into me,” he murmured, though he also hastened to add, “I jest, I jest.”

Enjolras traced a finger along the line of the balustrade. “I did not intend to hurt you by saying it,” he said heavily. “Only I think we need to be honest with one another.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a long moment. “I have been entirely honest with you,” he said carefully. “So if there is anyone with something to hide…”

He trailed off, looking at Enjolras expectantly. “Not to hide,” Enjolras hedged. “But one of the complications I did not anticipate has revealed itself this evening, and that is related to your social standing.”

Grantaire blinked. “My— what?”

“Combeferre pointed out that by me marrying your sister, your status has risen to one of the most eligible bachelors,” Enjolras explained. “And that knowledge complicates things.”

“How so?” Grantaire asked, his brow furrowed. 

Enjolras shrugged, avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “You have...options now, I suppose,” he muttered. “Real options, for a real marriage.” He hesitated before adding, “Options that I would not discourage you from exploring.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, turning to stare out at the sprawling grounds that surrounded the manner. After a long moment, he asked softly, “Am I being thrown over, then?”

“What?” Enjolras asked, confused.

“Is this your rather inelegant attempt to be rid of me?” Grantaire asked, his voice brittle. “Trying to soften the blow by intimating that I now have ‘options’?”

Enjolras stared blankly at him. “Of course not,” he spluttered. “That’s not at all what—”

“Then tell me,” Grantaire interrupted, “when I told you, multiple times now, that I love you, did you think I was speaking falsely?”

Enjolras scowled. “Not at all, but you did not know all the facts then!”

“And what facts could possibly matter in this regard?”

“The fact that you have a real chance to make a marriage match that would improve your standing and your family’s standing!” Enjolras snapped, though he wasn’t quite sure why he was angry, and especially at Grantaire. “You could secure a future for your lineage that any man would be envious of. It’s why most men put themselves through these torturous affairs.” 

Grantaire just shook his head. “Most men, but not you, and certainly not me,” he said quietly.

Something in his tone caused Enjolras to deflate, but it also allowed him to realize why he was so angry, or more accurately, at whom he was so angry: himself. He had dragged Grantaire down this path, and this was perhaps the last real opportunity that either had to part ways before irreparable damage was done. “Think of what you are saying,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I cannot offer you anything, not my name, not my title, not even the promise of the future if we are discovered. You deserve so much more than that.”

Grantaire shook his head again, but slower this time, and with a crooked sort of smile. “You can offer me the only thing I have ever wanted: you,” he said simply. “There is no one on Earth who can offer me more than that.” Enjolras shook his head, ready to interrupt, but Grantaire did not let him. “Do not seek to dismiss my words, when I mean every one of them. There is no happiness that I would find now with any other, not now that I know what true happiness is. Not now when I know what true love is.”

The breath caught in Enjolras’s throat, and for a moment, he could not speak. If he had been waiting for the perfect moment to finally tell Grantaire that he loved him, he knew he would never find one better than this. The music from the waltz taking place inside the ballroom swelled, and Enjolras leaned in toward Grantaire, reaching out to lightly cover Grantaire’s hand resting on the railing with his own. “Grantaire,” he started, his voice soft, “I—”

But before he could get the two most important words out, the doors to the balcony banged open, and Enjolras and Grantaire instinctively moved apart as two giggling couples spilled out of the ballroom.

The moment was thoroughly ruined, which perhaps explained the face Grantaire made as he turned back to Enjolras. “Shall we consider this our sign to adjourn for the evening?”

“Yes please,” Enjolras said with a sigh of relief.

His relief was short-lived, however, as a current of tension resonated between them as they made their way back through the ballroom and then waited out front until his carriage pulled around. As soon as they were inside and en route back to his place, Enjolras cleared his throat. “Shall we continue our conversation?”

Grantaire sighed. “I did not realize there was more to say.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “There is always more to say.”

“That should really be your family motto,” Grantaire muttered. “Plus semper est dicere.”

“I don’t think that’s an accurate translation,” Enjolras said mildly. “Though at least it’d probably be more appropriate than my actual family motto, Nox finiet.”

“Perhaps I’ll have Marius figure out the correct translation, then, and we can have it engraved on our stationary.”

Ordinarily, Enjolras probably would have laughed, but now, Grantaire’s attempt at glib just fell flat. “Grantaire—”

Grantaire ignored him. “After all, my family is too new amongst the gentry to have a motto of our own. Of course, if I ever got to pick a family motto, I’d probably choose Fidelitas usque ad mortem.”

His words were pointed, and Enjolras swallowed, hard. “Faithful until death.”

Grantaire met his gaze steadily. “And I aim to be.”

“I do not doubt that you will be,” Enjolras said quietly. “I only wish that you would consider what your loyalty will cost you.”

Grantaire reached out and took his hand. “Even if it costs me everything in this life and the next, it will be more than worth it.” He raised Enjolras’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “If you will have me, at least.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand, but before he could respond, the carriage jolted to a stop, and he glanced outside. “We’re home already?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

Grantaire just chuckled lightly. “One day we’ll figure out our timing,” he said before stepping out of the carriage and turning to help Enjolras down.

But Enjolras was not so willing to surrender the moment this time. As soon as his driver had left, he grabbed Grantaire’s hand, pulling him away from the lamplight at the door. “Before we go in, there’s something that I wished to say.”

“Something so secret you dare not speak it in earshot of your servants?” Grantaire asked, amused.

“Be serious,” Enjolras said with a frown.

Grantaire just smiled at him, his eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “I am wild.”

“Grantaire…”

“Fine, fine,” Grantaire said, chuckling. “What is it you wished to say?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Only that our time together has meant more to me than I ever thought it could. Not just our time up north, when it was just the two of us. But our time tonight as well. “

“Even when we were quarreling?” Grantaire asked.

“Especially when we were quarreling,” Enjolras said firmly. “Because our quarrel came from us wanting the best for each other.” He took both of Grantaire’s hands in his. “I do not know what the future holds, but I know that I want you in it, options be damned. Besides, with you at my side, I’m beginning to think anything is possible.”

Grantaire was quiet for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed Enjolras gently. “I may not share your belief in possibility, but I too have valued our time together,” he said softly. “It is everything I always dreamt it would be, and so much more.”

Enjolras laughed breathily. “You dismiss my belief in possibility, only to speak of dreams?”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Possibility speaks to hope,” he said with a shrug. “I never hoped my dreams would come true, though I am gladder than words can say that they have. That they are.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hands. “And who knows, you may make a believer out of me yet.”

This was Enjolras’s moment, and he took a deep breath, ready to finally say those three words he knew Grantaire wanted to hear more than anything else. “Grantaire, I—”

“Lord Enjolras?”

Enjolras could not stop the groan that escaped from his lips as he let go of Grantaire’s hands at the sound of his butler’s voice. “What is it, Porter?” he asked tiredly, taking a step towards the now-open door.

Porter cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon for the interruption,” he said, “but we’ve received word from the Marchioness.” Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged startled glances, and Porter corrected himself. “Beg pardon, the Dowager Marchioness. Your mother.”

Enjolras felt the blood drain from his face. “Christ,” he muttered. “What does she want?”

“She is planning on visiting tomorrow morning,” Porter said, glancing at Grantaire before looking back at Enjolras. “And I thought you would want to know immediately so that, ah, arrangements can be made.”

Not for the first time, Enjolras wondered how much Porter had surmised of what was going on between himself and Grantaire, and decided quickly that he cared less than making sure his mother knew absolutely nothing. “You were correct, Porter, thank you,” he said, and Porter nodded before closing the door again. 

Enjolras sighed and looked back at Grantaire, but before he could say anything, Grantaire cleared his throat. “I should spend the night at mine tonight,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “The last thing you need is to start your conversation with your mother with an explanation for our unusual living arrangement.”

“I know that you’re almost certainly right, but I wish to God you weren’t,” Enjolras said, reaching out to draw Grantaire close. “I need you on my side against her.”

Grantaire just laughed and tilted his head up to kiss Enjolras, a quick, fleeting kiss. “You will be fine,” he said with far more confidence than Enjolras felt. “I promise that I will be back tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, but before or after my mother leaves?” Enjolras muttered mutinously.

Grantaire laughed again and pressed one more kiss to Enjolras’s lips. “I love you,” he murmured before stepping away. “And I will see you in the morning.”

Enjolras watched him go, dreading the next morning and wishing more than anything that he had not waited until Grantaire was out of earshot to finally reply, “I love you, too.”

[radiorenjun]

I Don't Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Warnings: mental breakdowns, heartbreak, rejection, major angst, arguments, flashbacks, physical injuries, fighting, underaged drinking, panic attacks, mentions of death, slight mentions of druGS?, terribly written i dont rlly like this chapt.

• Wordcount : 6.1 k

• Masterlist here!

• Chapters: XIII, XIV

Life had many pros and cons, but people always preferred to see the bright side of it. As they say one of the best feelings in the world was the feeling you get when you found your soulmate, your other half. You had heard a countless amount of stories about it in your youth. Mainly from your grandmother. But sadly, you were one of the unfortunate souls who couldn’t experience the feeling for too long.

 Your sixteenth birthday was supposed to be filled with joy and excitement. But the moment you saw the ink starting to form on your wrist as soon as you blew your candles caused your heart to weigh down in your chest. At that moment, you remembered the feeling of shock and slight disappointment when you realised you had the same soulmate tattoo as Jaemin.

You remembered standing still in the middle of the room, surrounded by your friends and family who eagerly surrounded you to see your new soulmate tattoo as you entered a midlife crisis on the spot. How your mind turned messy with thoughts as your anxiety got the best of you.

‘My tattoo is the same as Jaemin’s. Jaemin is my soulmate?’

‘Oh god, but he doesn’t want to have a soulmate chosen for him. He wants to find his own love and experience the feeling of slowly falling for someone, I can’t possibly take that wish away from him, right?’

‘I’m his best friend, for pete’s sakes! He’s never going to treat me or look at me the same way again.’

‘This is really ironic. Grandma, you really got what you wanted, huh?’ 

The whole situation was almost laughable to you. Oh how your grandmother would probably be doing somersaults in her place if she was here to witness this miracle. But alas, that moment you just wanted to turn into stone on the spot. You wanted time to stop. You knew very well that there was a possibility that you won’t be experiencing that life changing feeling your grandmother always rambles about. 

Though, you had some hope that maybe. Just maybe, Jaemin would be okay with having you as his soulmate. Maybe he would be happy to find out that his childhood best friend, the person who knows him better than his own family, was his soulmate. Maybe life would give you some mercy and decided that Jaemin would change his mind and you would end up living happily ever after.

‘Come on, he would definitely be glad to find out that someone close to him was his soulmate, right?’ 

‘I know him like the back of my hand, surely he would be ecstatic to see that we have the same soulmate tattoo!’

‘I’m sure of it!’

‘Grandma said that there’s nothing better than the feeling of finding your soulmate’

‘He’s your best friend, he wouldn’t be disappointed to see that you ended up as his soulmate, right?’

‘You’ll still get that feeling of happiness you’ve been longing to feel for so long, right y/n?’

Of course, you were only getting your hopes up.

When you turned to Jaemin, who was peeking over your shoulder at your wrist to see your tattoo, the look on his face was enough to push your hopes down to the floor. You honestly couldn’t decipher what he was feeling. But it definitely wasn’t anything along the lines of happiness.

‘What’s that look for, Jaem?’

‘Surprised? Definitely. Disappointment? Pretty clear. Sadness? Yep, it was there alright. Misery? Despair? Probably.’

You couldn’t show anyone your sadness though, you had to keep a bright smile until the day was over if you didn’t want to worry anyone. When Jaemin’s eyes met yours, he, too, was surprised to see your calm reaction. The sad smile you gave him was enough to silence him for the rest of the party. 

It was quite painful when the rest of your friends and family decided to bombard you with questions of who you might think your soulmate could be. Not wanting to make things more awkward, you just tried your best to answer those questions without showing how upset you were with a simple shrug with Jaemin avoiding your eyes for the rest of the day.

At that moment you didn’t know how much pain you’d be in all because of your stupid soulmate mark.

One of the most hurtful things you’ve ever experienced was watching your friends and relatives find their own soulmates with the look of pure happiness stretched across their faces as you stand there with Jaemin by your side with a smile masking your faces and misery glossing over your eyes.

The one that always stuck to you was that time during Christmas. 

It had been a few months since you found out you and Jaemin were soulmates and not much has changed other than your obnoxious flirting and affection towards him. Jaemin had grown less and less affectionate as time passed by. He was no longer attacking you with surprise hugs or giving you cuddles during your movie nights.

You could feel your friendship tearing apart with every step you take, it was hopeless, you didn’t know what to do. You wanted to stop before you ruin your relationship completely, you wanted to stop making things so awkward between you, you wanted everything to stop hurting. You wanted to stop feeling hurt all the time. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t. You feared that once you stop, you’ll give up completely and you were scared that maybe if you stopped, you won’t have the courage to talk to Jaemin anymore. You were scared once you stopped you wouldn’t have the energy left to bare with the pain talking to him brought you. You were scared you’d give everything up.

And you were scared if it did happen, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself anymore.

They say the moments you spend with your soulmate should be one of the best moments of your life. Was the pain you felt all this time really worth it? Isn’t this kind of toxic? 

Your friend, Yiren, from another town had come to visit you over the holidays to spend some quality time with you. Your parents allowed her to spend the night at yours for Christmas while her parents finished their business in some other town. At that time, you and your other friends decided to hang out at the mall, asking her to tag along so they could meet her.

Yiren was an out-going person, just like you, therefore she got along very well with most of your friends. But when Chanhee finally arrived at the garden you were supposed to meet up at, you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink when you witnessed such an endearing moment between your two friends.

“Hey guys! I’m so sorry I’m late, my brother needed help closing up the shop!” Chanhee exclaimed, waving as he ran towards you. “You loser, just be grateful you have amazing friends who were willing to buy tickets 3 hours early,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder who let out a loud laugh. 

“Whatever you say, Hwang Hyunjin.” Chanhee stuck his tongue out teasingly at the boy. “Oh! Chanhee! I got my friend from Busan to tag along with us, I just want her to have more friends here, you don’t mind right?” you asked, slumping down on your seat. “That’s cool, where is she? Actually, where are the other girls?” Chanhee nodded, cocking his head to the side to find the other girls.

“The others went to buy some drinks for us. Don’t worry I made sure to make them order something for you,” Jaemin responded, scrolling through his phone casually. “Why didn’t you join them?” Chanhee asked, turning to you. You let out a wide, nervous smile, letting out small awkward laughs. “She wanted to stick beside me,” Jaemin huffed, trying his best not to roll his eyes out of annoyance.

“Whipped, I see,” he chuckled, watching you cross your arms against your chest before giving him a teasing glare. “You’ll understand once you actually find your soulmate, Chan. I can’t expect you to understand,” you joked in a rather arrogant tone, putting a hand under your chin as you grinned cheekily at your friend.

“It’s not that he doesn’t understands, Y/n. It’s just the fact that you’re really questionable,” Jaemin mumbled under his breath, earning a glare from you. “You two really are a questionable couple,” Hyunjin commented with a laugh. “I swear, my life wouldn’t be this entertaining if it weren’t for the two of you pushing and pulling each other like some kind of weird magnet,” he added with a loud snicker.

You winced internally at his words.

“We’re here!” Nayeon exclaimed in an excited tone, hopping up to you all with plastic bags filled with drinks. “Sorry, the line was so fucking long,” Yiren chuckled, pulling out the drinks from the bag to hand them out. “Nah, it’s fine. We’re not the ones paying after all,” you teased, waving it off.

“Bitch,” Yiren spat at you jokingly, earning a small laugh from your friends. You gingerly grabbed your drink and a straw, stabbing it into the drink before sipping. “Oh! Yiren! Meet Chanhee, he just got here because of business or something,” you squeaked, gesturing to the boy whose head shot up from his drink at the mention of his name.

“What? Me?” Chanhee rambled, stabbing his straw through the lid of his drink. 

“Oh, nice to meet you! I’m Yiren, I’m Y/n’s friend from Busan,” she smiled, outstretching her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you too, I’m Chanhee,” he nodded, shaking her hand before his eyes glanced down to her wrist. His eyes widened, letting out a loud gasp which alerted all of you. 

“What? What happened?” Mina exclaimed, turning her head to the couple who were staring at each other with equally flabbergasted expressions. “It’s you! Holy crap, it’s actually you!” she exclaimed, using her free hand to cup her mouth. Chanhee slowly stood up, feeling tears gathering in his eyes.

Everyone was shocked. You let out dramatic gasps, recognizing the loving expressions the two of them had on their faces. No one dared to speak as they let the knowledge sink in, feeling the atmosphere tense up for a brief moment as you watched your two friends stare admiringly and longingly at each other.

“You’re real! What the fuck, you’re real and you’re here!” Chanhee managed to choke out, admiring the tattoo on Yiren’s left wrist that mirrored his own. “Hi soulmate,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around her soulmate who wrapped her in a tight embrace. 

Your friends let out loud cheers and squeals at how dramatic their meet-up was, coming forward to congratulate them nonetheless. You couldn’t hold in your excitement for your friend but you couldn’t help but clench your fist tightly by your side, a heavy feeling in your chest piling up once again.

You couldn’t help but feel envious of how happy they looked. The tears in their eyes as they embraced each other so passionately, the bright aura surrounding them. You’ve seen your friends and families do PDA with their own partners but you had never witnessed what finding your soulmate truly looked like. That is, not until now.

Reading strangers’ experiences when meeting their soulmate online was one thing but seeing it first hand in person was a beautiful sight to see. You couldn’t help but turn to Jaemin in your seat, giving him a longing look as you ignored the loud exclaims and cheers of your friend group.

Jaemin’s expression was empty, void of emotion. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what he was feeling. Frankly, you didn’t want to know. They say you can see your future with your soulmate if your love was powerful enough. ‘Bull crap, all I see in his eyes is irritation towards me’ you thought with a roll of your eyes.

Jaemin’s eyes met yours, his brow raising at you as if to say ‘what?’

Your eyes widened slightly, taking aback by his sudden gaze, feeling hurt at the fact that he wasn’t fazed at all at the beautiful sight bestowed upon him. The reunion of two soulmates was always something special, it was a priceless moment that they can only share between them.

You felt your enthusiasm waver when you realised you were hoping something that wasn’t going to come. You were clinging on to Jaemin once again in hopes that he would give you the happiness you craved so much from hearing your grandmother’s stories. 

When you finally focused back on Jaemin’s now concerned gaze since he noticed you had spaced out and had begun snapping his fingers in front of your face to snap you out of your deep thoughts.

You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him, ignoring the jolting pain blooming in your wrist and in your chest as you stood up from your seat to join in celebration with your friends. The thought of never experiencing the same happiness they’re going to have once they find their soulmates lingering in the back of your mind.

But fortunately for you, keeping a smile stretched across your lips is what you do best.  

“Hey, I’m here,” Renjun called out, walking into your door without knocking. Your parents were away for the day and your sad hours were hitting you hard that you called Renjun to help comfort you and accompany you. Renjun knew the door was always unlocked for him to enter immediately without knocking whenever you were sad.

“Thanks for coming,” you smiled weakly, nuzzling closer to your bed sheets as Renjun sat on the bed next to you, dumping a plastic bag filled with snacks right in front of you. “You better pay me back sooner or later,” he joked, pulling out two cartons of milk and handing one to you. “When I don’t feel like shit that is,” you chuckled softly, sticking the straw in the carton as you tossed him the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked, adjusting his position on your pillow as he pressed through the options on your TV screen. “The Office? That drama you’ve been wanting to watch? Or-”

“I’m good with anything, Jun. I just- I’m just glad I’m not alone, right now,” you inhaled deeply, sniffling back your tears as you shook your milk carton. Renjun paused, realising you were on the brink of crying again. He clicked his tongue, his eyes darting from the TV screen to your shaking form trying to maintain calm, debating whether to leave you be or make you talk your feelings out.

“You want to talk about it?”

Renjun obviously decided to choose the latter.

You shrugged, looking down at your milk carton so hopelessly, a hurt expression flossing over your features. “I was just having those dreams again,” you gazed up to keep your tears in. You’ve been having these dreams that you were in a completely alternate universe, that you were happy again, that you were in Jaemin’s arms.

That he was looking at you the way you’ve been looking at him for the past two years.

“Were you reading those soulmate moments again before you went to bed?” he asked with a soft chuckle. You huffed, crossing your arms before sitting up straight against the headboard. “Come on! Let me dream! I might not be able to experience the happiness soulmates share when they’re with each other because I decided to ghost mine completely, but at least I can imagine!” you whined.

“It’s the only thing I can do now that I don’t have any hopes of experiencing romance or love and what not,” you mumbled almost inaudibly, sipping on your milk once again. Renjun bit his lip, knowing full well where this was going if he said the wrong thing. “Well, I-”

“It’s not fair, Renjun.”

“Huh?”

He turned to you, watching you stare at the screen which was playing a trailer of The Umbrella Academy with an expression filled with despair. “I’m stupid for getting this worked up for a boy but he’s my soulmate, I have the right to be upset right? He’s my soulmate, I want to experience the same thing others are experiencing, too. It’s not fair,” you whimpered, crossing your arms tightly against your chest.

“Why does he get to be the selfish one? I’m here getting hurt all the time for his own happiness and he’s probably out there living his best life!” you exclaimed exasperatedly, sniffling back your tears. “It’s not fair, I want to be happy too.” You whimpered, furiously wiping away your tears,

“How did we come to this? I’m human too! I want to be selfish too for once. I want to be able to play with my soulmate’s hair, give them little smooches, have cuddles and movie sessions. I want to go on dates with my soulmate too! And take those aesthetic pictures you see on Pinterest too!”

“Y/n, I-”

“He wanted to find love and experience the feeling of falling in love with someone who wasn’t chosen for him, right? Does that mean I have to watch him fall in love with someone else in front of my own eyes? Oh God, I’m so fucking stupid!” you planted your elbows on your thighs, leaning forward to rub your eyes against your palms to avoid looking into Renjun’s sympathetic ones.

“Two years. Two damn years, that’s how long I spent parading myself around like an idiot hoping that he would like me back when all I did, really, was drive him further and further away! I just thought, maybe it wasn’t those immediate soulmate bonds, you know Jun? The ones that take time and effort. But it’s been two damn years. Once again, I’m just fooling myself with something that wasn’t there! I just want it to stop hurting!”

“Y/n stop, your wrist is glowing again-”

“I was so stupid, Renjun. So, so fucking stupid. All this time I knew that I was making the both of us uncomfortable, yet I still kept on going and I still kept on pestering him even if he told me to stop. Maybe I’m the selfish one?” you felt your bottom lip quiver as your scattered mind grew messier with every passing second.

“Why did I trick myself into thinking that maybe one day he would feel the same feelings I’m feeling? I’ve always known he won’t ever love me back. So why did I create false hope? Was that selfish of me to want someone to love and someone to love me back?”

“No, y/n, you’re not selfish.”

“Renjun. My own soulmate doesn’t love me. My own fucking soulmate doesn’t love me. I’m going to be alone forever. I hate being alone. I hate it so much. I hate this so damn much,” your whole body shook harshly with every sob you let out but Renjun couldn’t help but respond with a soft, “you won’t be alone, y/n.”

“The worst part is I told myself for so long that I’ll be okay if it happens. I’ll be fine with watching him happy without me. But the more I think about it, the more selfish I felt. I don’t want to see him fall in love with someone else and be happy with someone else, Jun. I’m so stupid, Why did I ever thought I’d be okay with it when I’m clearly not okay now!”

“Y/n, no, you’re not stupid. Don’t you dare say something like that about yourself.” Renjun pulled you away from the ball you were curling into, making you lean against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your back tightly, stroking your head and rubbing your back as he tried to calm down your soft cries.

“You’re not stupid, y/n. You’re really not,” he said in the softest tone he could muster. 

“Renjun. I have a soulmate who doesn’t even fucking want me. If my own soulmate doesn’t want me then who else will? You all always see how he looks at me right? He hates me, he doesn’t even like me. Not one bit.” At this point, you were trying to focus on your breathing, wiping your nose and tears away with the fabric of your shirt.

Your grip on your bedsheets tightened when your heart ached even more. Your heart was screaming and pleading in your chest, crying out for something it can’t have. And all you can do to comfort it was to cry it all out.

Renjun sat there, rubbing your back and stroking your head as he whispered soft hushes, trying to reassure you your worth as you mumbled incoherent sobs, single syllables and broken words against his shoulder. You were hurting so much that you didn’t know if you should stop crying or let it all out to satisfy the pain in your chest.

But sure enough, Renjun held you there until you couldn’t cry anymore. 

“Hey, I told you, you don’t have to give me chocolates anymore. My mom’s going to kill me if I have another sore throat,” you chuckled, pulling up the thin chocolate bar from your locker. Your friend, Nayeon, turned to you with furrowed brows, eyes filled with confusion. “Excuse you, I didn’t give you any chocolates this week,” she responded, pulling out her textbook.

You let out a small ‘huh?’ at her, trying to see if she was lying. Nayeon always gave you half of her lifetime supply of chocolates that she always receives from her soulmate because she wanted to go on a diet and she didn’t want to waste the delicious treats. “He found out I was on a diet and stopped giving me chocolates for the time being. Also, it’s my cheat day today!” she exclaimed, pulling out a chocolate bar similar to yours from her pocket.

“So no chocolates for you,” she waved the chocolate bar in your face jokingly, causing you to chuckle. “Well okay, Nayeon. But if you didn’t give me the chocolate, then who did?” you asked, furrowing your brows at the treat in your hand. “Dumbass, there’s a note behind it,” Nayeon reached over and flipped the candy over, revealing a small yellow sticky note attached to it.

‘I hope you have a great day!

- you know who’

The handwriting gave it away. It was way too obvious, you’ve seen that handwriting more than you could count. There was no doubt in your mind that this was indeed Jaemin’s handwriting. You chuckled when your mind recalled the time Jaemin kept giving you chocolate bars from his mother’s private stock whenever you were upset back when you were still kids. But how could he still remember your favorite chocolate brand? It was quite sweet but unexpected at the same time.

“’I hope you have a great day’, that’s so bland. Sounds like something moms would write on a piece of paper in their kid’s lunch boxes,” your friend commented with a small snicker, pointing at the note attached to the chocolate bar. “This sounds like some weird stalker-ish movie prompt,” she added with a teasing tone, nudging your shoulder. You forced out a small laugh to hide your discomfort.

“Do you really have to say it like that, though? I’d say this might just be someone’s weird prank?” you raised your brow, trying not to give away the fact that you know full well who this chocolate bar is from. “Come on, aren’t you suppose to be the prankster in this situation, y/n?” she giggled, waving her hand off to say she was joking.

“Nonetheless-Ooh! An admirer! Sadly, you’re too whipped for Jaemin to give this fellow a chance,” Nayeon gushed, snatching the chocolate bar out of your palms to inspect the note even further. “It even says ‘you know who’. I’m fully convinced that a Potterhead wrote this, I mean, it’s cute. But do they really have to include ‘you know who’? This isn’t Harry Potter, they ain’t Voldemort,” Nayeon rambled, causing you to giggle in response.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, suppressing the heavy feeling inside of your chest. Nayeon giggled, smacking your shoulder gently as she handed you the chocolate bar back. “I’m just kidding you! So, do you know this supposed admirer?” she asked with a small hum, oblivious to the sadness that had glossed over your pupils.

“Yeah, definitely.” You replied shortly, kissing your lips as you nodded. Her head shot up at you, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh! So are you going to do anything about it? I mean, you found your soulmate already as far as I know but are you going to do anything?” she asked, cocking her head to the side a bit in wonder. You sighed, putting the chocolate in the pocket of your backpack before shaking your head with a small smile. 

“No, I’m not,” you replied, walking alongside her to your next class. “I don’t really want to think about it too much, I mean, it’s just a bar of chocolate, right?”

‘The ones I used to receive from him back when we were still in middle school that is,’ you thought with a heavy heart. You clenched your fists by your side, mustering up the energy you have in your system to put on your usual bright smile. “Anyways, what were you saying about Mr Seong earlier?” 

When you said you didn’t want to think about it too much, obviously you were lying and you thought about it way too much all throughout math class till lunch. As you were doing the assignment your teacher gave you, you couldn’t help but remember the kiss you two shared at the party. Your chest fluttered at the seemingly distant memory

You paused, putting your pen down next to your notebook, propping your elbows on the table before rubbing your face in distress, the tips of your fingers coming up to rub your temples with a heavy sigh. ‘God, I need a damn vacation after all this,’ you thought, putting your arms down as you continued on with your work.

‘The tables really have turned, huh?’

You glanced at the small sticky note attached to the chocolate bar which was now hidden in your pencil case. You let out a silent chuckle, flipping your pen in between your fingers as you stare down at your paper. ‘It hurts,’ you thought, taking a small glimpse at your left wrist. The white bandage that wrapped around your wrist peeking out under the fabric of your sweater.

‘It hurt,’ you bit your lip, darting your eyes back at your paper filled with equations. As you started to continue with your work, your mind wandered to the weekend after the party. 

 You remembered waking up early in the comforts of your own bed sheets, still in the clothes you wore the night before. Your headache causes you to groan against your pillows when you felt like vomiting your stomach out. Apparently, Renjun had magically snuck you in your own home in the middle of the night by using the spare key you had in your pocket. 

How he managed to sneak into your house and get into your room and out without waking your parents was a whole mystery to you. But you couldn’t care less when the events of the previous night overwhelmed your thoughts, resulting in you having a mini mental breakdown in your bathroom when you decided to take a shower.

You and Jaemin kissed! You and Jaemin fucking kissed!

What the actual fuck?!

At the time, you couldn’t help but touch your own lips with the tips of your fingers, giggling softly at the fond memory, feeling butterflies swarm your stomach. Collapsing on the mattress of your bed, snuggling against the pillows as you couldn’t hide the giddy feeling spilling from inside of you. But your little giggle session didn’t last long when your mind finally remembered the full events.

You had a mental breakdown- no, you had a whole panic attack in front of your own soulmate. Jaemin just did what any other male protagonist in a cliche romance movie would do, which was kiss their love interest. You are his soulmate after all. They say one of the most comforting things in the world will always be the first kiss you ever shared with your soulmate. 

They say a lot of things, if you think about it.

What if Jaemin knew that and kissed you just to make you feel better? What if he did it out of pure sympathy? Jaemin was someone who would do anything to make someone’s pain go away, even if he had to share the pain to take it away. You sighed at the thought, remembering how he snapped at you at the dinner party. Or did he just kiss you because you appeared too pathetic in front of him?

‘I forgot, he’d gladly do anything for the people he loved. I’ll never be in that category. Not anymore,’ you thought to yourself bitterly as you hugged your pillow to your chest. 

But then again, why did he kiss you? He was the one who initiated the kiss, right?

Right?

‘Stop trying to give yourself hope, unless you want to get hurt again you might as well go back to being a simp’

You snapped out of your thoughts with a click of your tongue, chuckling to yourself. ‘God dammit, y/n, you’re out of the soulmate game now. The universe really said ‘you’re never going to be happy with your soulmate, ever!’ in the most dramatical way possible. You have fallen out of God’s favor a long long time ago.’

You shook your head in disappointment before adverting your eyes back down to finish your paper.

‘You were dreaming too far.’

“Alright class. For those who haven’t finished their work, you can do them at home and give them to my next week,” your teacher announced as he puts his papers in between the pages of his book. The class groaned, the sounds of chairs grinding against the tile floor pierced your hearing as people started packing up their things. 

You rubbed your eyes in distress, putting your paper in between the pages of your textbook, shoving it straight in your bag carelessly and walking out of the classroom with a heavy sigh. Gripping the saddle of your bag with one hand and the chocolate bar in your other as you make your way to the cafeteria. 

As you entered the crowded place, you spotted a few of your friends sitting at a table nearby at the corner of your eye. Sending them a smile and a small wave you turned your head to scan the room in an attempt to find the table Jaemin was sitting at.

You quickly walked to his table, feeling your heartbeat quicken in your chest with every step you take. Jeno was the first one who caught you walking towards their table as Jaemin had his back turned to you. Raising his brow in confusion as you waved at him with a sheepish smile. 

“Jaemin, is that-”

When Jaemin turned around, his eyes widened to see you standing right in front of him that he almost choked on his cookie. “Hey, uh-” you spoke, taking a breath to calm your nerves before placing the chocolate bar right beside him. “I don’t want to be rude or anything but I just want to return this,” you smiled, trying to ignore the eyes of his teammates boring holes into your figure.

“I’ll see you guys around, I guess,” you shrugged, turning around and whipping your phone out to advert your mind as you exited the cafeteria. You knew Jaemin was going to chase after you when you heard the sound of his friends calling his name which caused you to walk faster to the exit, jogging when you finally got out of the cafeteria.

“Y/n!” Jaemin called out, running after you. 

You sighed, stopping in your step before turning to him with an exhausted expression. “What is it, Jaemin?” you asked, exhaustion lacing your tone. You haven’t spoken to him since that night at the party and you’ve been avoiding him like the plague since then. And frankly, you really don’t want to talk to him about it.

“This is yours,” Jaemin said, his breathing hitched as he outstretched his hand towards you to hand you back the chocolate. “No, Jaemin. I really don’t want to,” you shook your head, a frown stretched across your lips. “It’s a present, is it not? You have to accept it,” Jaemin raised his brow at you, attempting to take your hand but you quickly jerked it back to your side.

Jaemin couldn’t help but wince at the small action. “Y/n, you said it yourself once, right? ‘You can’t reject a gift from someone else, that’s rude and unappreciative’” He quoted, causing your eyes to widen slightly. “Jaemin, you know very well I only said that to make you accept my gifts,” you frowned, wincing at how hypocritical you sounded.

But still, he did not just use the same tactic you used back when you were still bugging him. Not when he whined and complained so much to his friends whenever you weren’t around afterwards.

“I still have the right to refuse your gift, Jaemin,” you frowned, slipping your hand in your pockets. He sighed exasperatedly, “fine, can we at least talk? About that night at the party? Please?” he pleaded, sending you his irresistible puppy eyes in an attempt to get you to say yes.

You bit your lip, feeling your heartbeat increase at the action, butterflies swarming your stomach as you feel yourself turn into mush under his eyes. But alas, your mind couldn’t help but have flashbacks to the party. The heavy feeling in your chest that made it hard to breathe. The burning in your wrist that made you want to chop your own arm off. 

Everything that happened between you two was nothing but a mess.

In your eyes, there was nothing else to talk about. It is best if you two go your separate ways, right?

“There’s literally nothing to talk about, Jaemin,” you deadpanned, gripping the saddle of your bag tightly to keep your emotions intact when you feel a lump starting to build up in your throat. “I don’t understand why you want to talk about this so much,” you sighed, shaking your head as you ran a hand through your hair.

“If you have nothing to say, it’s fine. Then just let me talk,” Jaemin sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress. “Just hear me out, okay?” he said in an almost pleading tone, his lips forming a pout as his puppy eyes bore into yours. You took this chance to examine his features.

As creepy as it sounds, you missed seeing his face. He looks tired. So tired. Dark bags under his eyes, his pink lips forming a small pout as he waited for your response. You furrowed your brows, biting the inside of your cheek for letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding back.

“I really don’t have time for this. I just came to give you back your chocolate, “ you lied through your teeth. If you didn’t have time, then why did you decide to give him back the chocolate when you have been avoiding him? Maybe deep down, you just want to see him again? Maybe you just wanted an excuse to talk to him?

You didn’t know yourself. Why were you talking to him knowing full well it’s just going to bring you pain again? 

You gave him a small, weak smile. “I need to go Jaemin. The bell’s about to ring soon and I need to get my notes from Renjun before Chemistry,” you sighed, biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything else that would make the atmosphere more tense than it already was. 

“I’ll see you around.”

You missed him, but you also want it to stop hurting. 

A/N: this was a really shitty chapter. But i felt guilty for not posting so here’s like a short ass chapter I wrote in like the four hours of free time I had in the past two days. So forgive me this is rlly bad lmfao. BUT HEY FINALLY A CHAPTER WITH Y/NS POV! yeah back to Jaemin’s pov when the next chapter comes out. My exams should be ending soon so I might or might not post somewhere next week idfk man

ANYWAYS

T A G L I S T : @candiednickles​ @itlittlefangirl​ @cherrym4rk​ @gotoartistprofile @d-nghyck​ @kingjvngins​ @aconeptun​ @chaeshii @lixseu​ @morks-watermelon​ @12am-musings​ @cherrystay​ @lowkeyviv​ @btm-taeyong​ @gothmingguk​ @luvlyjaemin​ @cowward​ @smileyyuta​ @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @comically-sleep-deprived​ @wtfhaechan​ @xcherrybbyx​ @wishing–butterfly​ @wordsgodeep​ @seeing-dreams​ @sweetmoonlight9​ @chwenchew​ @stuckwithhyuck​ @yunoelea​ @angelrenjunie​ @dae-chan​ @jenseoull​ @marklexleaf​ 

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH58

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 58: Purgatory Reunion (X)

Mrs?

This familiar address reminded Qi Leren of someone—Mrs Kathleen. One of the powerful figures in the Village of Dusk’s Slaughter Secret Society branch, Qi Leren had used the identity of "Red" to go undercover there, and had infiltrated the Slaughter Secret Society through her. She and her subordinate, Ashley, had left a deep impression on him, especially after he learned that they had escaped pursuit of the Trials Court.

The Nightmare World was so big, Qi Leren hadn't expected to meet her in the Underground Ant City.

Not good, Qi Leren thought. Mrs Kathleen must have a grudge against his "betrayal" and "utilization" in those days. Now she had sent someone to invite him fair and square. She wasn’t surprised that he had come here.

If she was not strong enough, she could pretend that she hadn’t seen him. That she had invited him meant she needed him for something.

Qi Leren has a guilty conscience and couldn't help thinking about a strategic retreat...

His hand was gently shook, and Qi Leren jolted. It suddenly occurred to him that this time he wasn’t alone.

He still had Ning Zhou!

When a man fights for too long, he thinks of solving any problems by himself, because when in danger, he can't pin his hopes on others. The only person he can rely on is himself.

This was a kind of maturity, but it was not a kind of helplessness. If someone can be a little prince and a little princess in a castle all their life, who would want to face the ups and downs of the outside world alone? After all, the wind was cold enough to bite at one’s skin, and the rain was violent enough to break through their armor.

Qi Leren raised his head and looked at Ning Zhou. Ning Zhou's eyes behind the mask also looked at him. It was a firm and indomitable look. He suddenly felt at ease. Maybe he would encounter difficulties and dangers, but as long as Ning Zhou was by his side, he would have endless courage.

Relieved, Qi Leren turned back and smiled at the manager who had invited them: "What are you waiting for? Lead the way."

　　&&&

They went up the stairs through a hidden door in the underground casino. The decor on the second floor was no longer a decaying and old gambling house, but a clean and tidy reception room. The white marble floor was gleaming, but the sofa where someone should sit was empty.

The manager pulled open the curtain of the reception room. Behind the curtain, there was a translucent curtain of light that rippled like a water’s surface, making the figure behind the curtain blurred, but it was still faintly visible that it was a woman's appearance, which was the long-lost Mrs Kathleen.

"That group of desperate gamblers are all rotten to the core, aren't they?" The woman behind the scenes laughed and made no secret of her contempt for this group of gamblers.

"It's a perfect match for a fugitive with her head hidden," Qi Leren also laughed.

This was really mean. When Qi Leren switched to his "Red" persona, his speech was much more vicious than usual, and most of the time it can be called malicious provocation.

"...Long time no see, Mr. 'Red', you still have the same style, still so... sharp-toothed and clever-tongued."

"But you’ve become secretive." Qi Leren smiled mockingly, took Ning Zhou, and sat down on the sofa in an ostentatious manner. He looked at Mrs Kathleen behind the curtain with his fingers still writing in Ning Zhou’s palm behind his back: Barrier, with a question mark added.

He wanted to know whether Ning Zhou could break this barrier enchantment.

"Necessary caution can save people's lives at critical moments, such as when the Trials Court encircled the Slaughter Secret Society branch." Mrs Kathleen's tone was light, but she was careful, full of the malicious intent of wanting to kill someone quickly.

Ning Zhou's reply was simpler than Qi Leren's. He only drew a check mark in his hand.

The light touch made Qi Leren's hand shiver, and he almost lost control of his tone.

"So you hide yourself behind an 'absolutely safe' barrier, and then tell your poor men to prepare to catch both of us?" Qi Leren laid out her plan bluntly.

Mrs Kathleen chuckled and took a sip of black tea before slowly saying, "A safety barrier is very important. For example, this one in front of you is enough to stop all attacks below a half-field."

Mrs Kathleen was full of confidence in the security of this enchantment, and also full of confidence in beating these two people. It had only been a month or two since the Slaughter Secret Society’s Village of Dusk branch collapsed. At that time, she had witnessed "Red’s" strength and that of the exorcist who cooperated with him.

Absolutely less than half-field level, otherwise the Slaughter Secret Society branch would have been completely annihilated.

These days, Mrs Kathleen, who had been pampered for many years, was resentful. She used to live a secret but comfortable life in the Village of Dusk. Her subordinates flattered her, supported her, and pinned their hopes for survival on the seeds of slaughter she gave them, but all this was ruined by this person.

She had to flee with the only surviving subordinate, Ashley, to the strange Underground Ant City. If she hadn't happened to meet a past lover in the lower city, and the lover happened to have a certain degree of power, she would be in a worse situation now.

However, how could a cautious life be compared to the reckless life she had previously had? Ashley, her only subordinate, was still missing.

Mrs Kathleen frowned. She could sense her subordinate, and was sure that he was still alive. But another horrible and evil force had cut off her control over her subordinate. She could only vaguely feel that Ashley was still in the Underground Ant City, but she didn't know what had happened to him...

"I'm not interested in your enchantment. If you wanted to kill me you could have already tried, instead of hiding your head in a turtle shell. Tell me, what do you want with me?" Qi Leren asked lazily.

"What about you? What did you come here for?" Mrs Kathleen asked.

"I'm looking for someone." Qi Leren has no intention of hiding.

"Looking for a gambler? I don’t believe it." Mrs Kathleen chuckled. "I’m guessing you're looking for the Court’s missing informant, the guy who came here the other day to inquire about the gambler."

Sure enough! The Court’s informant who came to investigate the Illusionist’s disappearance fell into Mrs Kathleen’s hands.

"Oh, what about him?" Qi Leren asked.

"Don't worry, you can see him soon," Mrs Kathleen said softly, fiddling with the feather fan in her hand.

Qi Leren's heart sank. It was likely that the informant's situation wasn’t good. However, it was also possible that Mrs Kathleen was using him, the informant of the court, and she couldn’t kill him until she drained the information from him.

"But I'm curious, the Illusionist unexpectedly also came to the Underground Ant City, also came to the casino; what is he doing here? Are you still chasing me?" asked Mrs Kathleen.

Qi Leren narrowed his eyes. It seemed that the informant who came to find the gambler to verify the Illusionist’s whereabouts had confessed this matter, so Mrs. Kathleen was wary, and she had found a barrier enchantment from who knows where to protect her own safety. She also arranged manpower in the underground casino. As a result, there was no new information about why the Illusionist had gone missing after leaving for the Dragon Ant Queen’s palace. Instead, Ning Zhou and Qi Leren had just gotten tied up in Mrs Kathleen’s issues.

Alas, this was really a pitfall of miscommunication.

"Think of it as him going shopping," Qi Leren said lightly.

Mrs Kathleen choked a bit, then laughed angrily: "What about you, what are you doing in the Underground Ant City?"

Of course, Qi Leren couldn't speak about the facts, but he couldn’t casually say something that wouldn’t make sense...

Beside him, Ning Zhou suddenly moved. This move made Qi Leren's mind flash. He leaned over Ning Zhou's neck in confusion and smiled at Mrs. Kathleen behind the curtain: "We came for our honeymoon!"

Mrs Kathleen: "..."

Ning Zhou: "???"

Mrs. Kathleen, who felt teased and humiliated, finally couldn't sit still. She stood up from her chair and snapped, "Since you don't want to say anything, go to hell and say it!"

With her furious voice, the door of the sitting room was violently kicked open, and a group of thugs rushed in, most of whom were strong lower demons. They surrounded the two people on the sofa, but did not rush to start attacking.

"Actually, it won’t take so many people to deal with you two." Mrs Kathleen smiled haughtily and clapped her hands. The barrier between her and them changed its shape, and began to expand from a curtain of light. In just a few seconds, it turned into a sheet of light, trapping them inside.

"This enchantment can protect people, and of course it can trap people. This is a half-field item. Although I can't use cards like you foreigners, items are still useful. I have to say that there are some interesting things..."

Mrs Kathleen's arrogant words hadn't been finished yet before Ning Zhou, who was gaining speed, had already waved out his sword—

The low-key and restrained Sword of Judgment swept away the light curtain. Before it, the light curtain, which was strong enough to resist all attacks below a half-field, was just like ordinary glass, and instantly fell apart.

The broken pieces of the light curtain were falling, and Mrs Kathleen's stunned expression behind the barrier seemed to freeze at this moment. Her horror and disbelief twisted into a clown-like expression on her face.

"Do it, do it!" She suddenly came to her senses, screaming and shouting.

The lower demon around them howled and rushed forward, but before running even a few steps, they were frightened into kneeling on the ground by a terrible force—the powerful oppressive feeling was like an iron tower on the top of each demon's head, which was more dignified than terror and more horrible than majesty.

Every demon's mind couldn't help but see a similar image: an ancient dragon as big as a mountain, raising itself high and staring at the demons at its feet that were each smaller than one of its scales...

This was no longer a simple gap in ability, but a crushing hierarchy between different creatures.

Mrs Kathleen fell to her knees with a gasp, and supported herself against the ground with both hands awkwardly. The oppressive feeling that went straight to her soul made her unable to conceive thoughts of resistance. The cruel and bloody power divide between demons determined that a powerful devil wanted to kill a weak demon, and it would barely need to work to do it.

Unless the pressure was released, it would be enough for a lower demon to collapse and die.

Terrified sweat dripped down her forehead. At this moment, Mrs Kathleen's heart was desperate and fearful.

This was the full force of destruction, which is terrible to behold... She had experienced the cruel war more than 20 years ago, that is, at that time, she had betrayed her human identity and thrown herself into the Devil's camp, changing from a poor human girl in a border town to a Devil’s follower, and finally she herself became a demon.

She had even seen the Destroyer with her own eyes. Handsome and silent, he wore a uniform and walked through the cheering army of demons, as if everything he ruled over was nothing but trivial things in the world. He didn't deliberately release his force, but his whole body was full of destructive power, which made her unable to forget. Even though the appearance of the Lord of Destruction in her memory had already blurred, the sensation of his force still lingered.

In the more than 20 years since the fall of the Destroyer, she had never been amazed by any power. Even though she had joined the Slaughter Secret Society, she always maintained a calm and mocking attitude towards the crazy believers in the Secret Society. She despised the crazy believers, and from the bottom of her heart, she didn't think there was anything remarkable about these three new Devils.

However,ever since the fall of the old Devil King, the Underworld was leaderless. Although they had gained power, they were not truly "Devil Kings".

After all, none of them had started the ceremony.

Without this ceremony, whether it was Power, Fraud, or Slaughter, it was just a pseudo-Devil King with an empty title. In the past 20 years, there was only one Devil who was truly recognized as a Devil King in the demon world.

But the Destroyer had fallen. Who was this person who also used the force of destruction, and was infinitely close to the field level?

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[cassiecasyl]

sometimes you just don’t know the answer (wait for me)

Anyone remember this fic? Well, I’ve finally finished it!!!! 

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3 

or read the whole fic on ao3!!!! 

chapter 4: what died didn’t stay dead 

Are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark? 

  -  Lost Stars by Keira Knightley  

It’s an old tale, and that’s not how it ends. 

Long, shadowy fingers wrapped around Castiel’s wrists, pulling him back, slowly and deliberately leading him to be devoured by the Empty. Dean could almost hear the universe’s malicious laugh. He’d be stripped of his love once more. 

No. Ancient, familiar rage boiled his blood and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the shadows. It was bleeding love, protective and fierce. There was no fear, because everything was already on the line —  Dean had nothing left to lose. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, at nothing and everything in particular. They couldn’t lose now. Not with him standing in the light as Cas succumbed back to the dark — it wasn’t fair. 

Dean did what he couldn’t back then, what shock and fear and disbelief — and perhaps, above it all, cruel, cruel, capricious Gods — prevented; he reached forward, and where he touched, he brought light with him, breaking into tiny rainbows against the universe’s shards. He disentangled Cas’s hand and grabbed them himself, holding on and never letting go. 

The fabric of stars was in their hands, being overwritten as they stood there. “You’re not leaving,” Dean promised, and Cas looked up at his sun that lit up the world. Finally, Dean pulled him close, holding him in the here and now, just tightly enough to make sure that no dust escaped his vessel. “Not on my watch,” he whispered defiantly, his voice breaking, and Cas almost chuckled. 

I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. 

Dean breathed in his angel’s smell — home with a whiff of honey. How the sweet substance always clinged onto the vessel was a mystery, but Dean wouldn’t want it any other way. Cas nuzzled his face into the side of his neck in retaliation and Dean relaxed for the first time in years. They were safe. They made it. Cas was solid and alive and real and here. Nothing could ever bring them apart. 

Golden light drowned out the retreating darkness behind Cas, and the angel looked up in admiration, that childlike adoration in his eyes that had Dean absolutely smitten. Fuck, he thought, I’m in love. Laughter bubbled up his throat, carefree like the amber sky, the beginning of a new morning. 

Maybe, in this moment, they found a new destination that would always lead them back to each other's arms, or maybe it had been there all along. Their journey was the same as yours, the same as anyone’s, yet so uniquely different — they’ve defied the universe, won a challenge set up to fail. At last, they knew the way, knew where to place their feet — where they’ve always been going. Home. Turned from promise to reality, alive between their arms. Home. The long way round. 

Dean loosened their hug to look the angel into his eyes — the drowning blue a sky he was falling into, or maybe, flying. He gulped, suddenly nervous like a schoolboy standing before their crush. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, fighting against the instinct of wanting to escape these piercing, knowing eyes, because his words held so much weight. “I—,” he started and stopped. This was stupid. He’d said it before. He just let Cas out of hell through a deal that required true love. Why couldn’t he just say it? 

“I know,” Castiel intervened, always wanting to comfort him. Bless the angel. 

“No,” Dean shook his head, “I need to say it. Because you deserve to hear it.” Cas’s eyes were impossibly patient, giving him all the time in the world. He was the calm ocean against his forest fire, waiting for him like he’d done for years — Dean couldn’t let him wait any longer. 

“I love you,” he said, whispering the promise into the sky so it may let it be known to the whole world; Dean Winchester loves Castiel. It was a simple fact of life, and he was found. 

“I know,” Cas repeated his answer, smiling. The happiness in his eyes made it all worth it. 

“Can’t believe you just Han Solo-ed me,” Dean joked, and Cas bellowed out a laugh. 

“I love you,” Cas said, lost and found in the moment. His heart could’ve contently jumped out of his chest right now and Dean found himself thankful Fred Jones wasn’t around. 

His soul had been broken and shattered countless times, but now, every last particle constructed a wondrous mosaic with the ragged pieces of Cas’s grace, cosmic consequences pulling them together rather than apart. One could’ve called it celestial, heavenly, divine even; but it was fundamentally human, terrene.  

As sunlight found them, they found each other. They were stars in the daylight, no longer dancing around each other but colliding into one. Dean almost expected an explosion as their lips met — it would’ve been fitting. But, alas, there were no fireworks, no big announcment. It was the softest touch he had ever experienced, true like nothing else. It was the sunlight warming up their bodies, the sunlight Dean flew right into. It was something he’d never thought possible — love. 

They were two stars finally found, lighting up the dark, walking away from the night sky, from a graveyard. Walking home. Their light burned on, growing to a calming, graceful blue as it filled their own sky. It was filled with a love that had done everything — it had defied the universe, defied doubts and fear — and had survived. But then again, what isn’t alive can never truly die. They’d pulled it into life, away from the realm of uncertainties, of will they, won’t they. 

Cas was here, alive and well, and they kissed under a rainbow. It was a fairytale, and for a moment, Dean blinked, trying to wake himself up. This could all be a dream. He could wake up any moment and still be in their bunker, sunken to the ground in sorrow. Dean drew in a shaky breath, hoping with all his might that this was real. 

“I’m here,” the angel said in his heavenly voice, cupping his cheeks. Dean grabbed onto his hand, holding on for dear life. “We’re real.” 

Behind them, the sun disappeared behind clouds, revealing the familiar surroundings of the map room. Home. Dean looked back at Cas and smiled. With the angel at his side, it truly was home. They made it. Dean laughed in realization, and drew Cas close again, reuniting their lips. They made it. 

“I really didn’t need to see that,” Sam, ever the cockblock, interrupted. As Castiel turned away, Dean pulled him back for a quick peck, just for the hell of it. He was allowed to do that. Holy hell, he was allowed to do that. No cage in hell would ever be able to contain his grin, not ever again. 

“It’s good to see you back,” Sam greeted them before Dean could think of a good retort to his earlier line. He welcomed Cas with a hug, and then embraced his brother too. The last time Dean didn’t mind everything being so lovey-dovey must’ve been when they were kids. Or maybe in the Empty. Not that he’d admit that. He briefly squeezed Cas’s hand, just to remind himself that he was still there. The angel looked at him, smiling softly, and laid his head on his shoulder, nuzzling closer. 

“Castiel!” Jack stormed into the room and into his father’s arms, uncaring about Dean right next to them, who huffed in complaint. “You did it.” The kid was all smiles and laughter — one of those moments that showed his age. Dean smiled. His family was all there. For the first time in decades, he felt happy. 

“Of course we did it,” Dean said, his cheeks starting to hurt with how much he was smiling. He never noticed how he could see them at the edge of his vision when he smiled wholeheartedly — something he knew was promised to happen a lot more now. “Who do you take us for?” 

“The most epic love story ever written,” Jack answered and Dean blushed. Suddenly, everything was too warm and too much all at once. Realization was still sickering in, overwhelming the man. He retreated slightly, away from Castiel, even though the angel felt like safety, love, everything he’s missed for years and didn’t even realize he needed. 

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, looking down. 

“It’s okay,” Cas assured him. As Dean glanced up at him, the angel’s face was lit up in admiration for his adoptive son. He had never seen something more beautiful, more serene than the love in his angel’s eyes. He was glowing with love, and Dean was basking in his light. He was the stars blinking hope into the night, the moon guiding the hunter home, the sun over a long lost planet. Otherwordly, yet wholly home. 

Dean would never believe his luck. A part of him would never believe this story, scoff if told to him, memories already bathed in doubt. He couldn’t trust his own mind, could he? Soothing grace touched his mind, assuring him once more. I heard you. I’m here. We’re what’s real. I love you. 

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Sam said, still chuckling. Dean’s head snapped up at his brother, being ripped so suddenly from Cas’s sweet nothings that hummed on quieter now. “I’ve known for years. It’s hardely something one can miss. Pretty much everybody knows.” 

Dean opened his mouth. That’s what I’m worried about, he would’ve replied once before, and some shadows still wanted him to, but he found that he didn’t care. Something had changed, and that something was the angel at his side loving him unashamedly. Castiel, who was never afraid to love.  

You changed me, Dean. 

Yeah, you did too, bud. 

Instead, he nodded at Sam in appreciation and wrapped an arm around his angel. They’d walked through hell and worse, and showed the universe their love, and the universe had bowed to it. There was nothing left to hide, and nothing they couldn’t beat together. 

“Damn right we did it,” Dean whispered, making Cas laugh. Because if anyone could’ve done this, it was them. 

[boebluewrites555]

I sing of sand and sea.

Xena/Gabrielle mermaid AU.

A/N and here’s another one, hope you like it so far and let me know what you think please I love to hear your thoughts! As always all rights to the characters and Xena Warrior princess belong to the amazing creators of the show.

Chapter two - I sing of the Sand

Gabrielle had always felt like there was something missing to her life. Of course, she loved her family very much indeed, but being promised away to the most eligible bachelor in town, didn’t exactly excite her. Not to mention that her family expected nothing more of her than doing her daily household tasks as a woman.

If she where being honest with herself, Gabrielle would admit to being rather fed up with it all. But it wasn’t just that. She truly felt that there was more to her than what her parents wanted to become. There was more out there for her to discover, and if she didn’t allow herself to seek out the adventure she so desperately craved, she knew that she would regret it for the rest of her miserable life.

So one day, she made up her mind and fully committed to it.

Feeling the foreboding sense of guilt at running away creeping up on her and turning her insides to jelly, Gabrielle gingerly tried to step as lightly as she could in order to not wake up her sister.

But alas, it was to no avail. Lila was always a very light sleeper and Gabrielle could never get anything past her.

She had woken her, and in an instant, Lila had sat up and begun to fire questions her way.

Gabrielle gave her a sheepish look and could feel heat crawl up her face in the embarrassment of being caught out.

Eventually, once Lila had finished her rapid question interrogation of her sister, Gabrielle had sighed and sat down next to her as she tried to think of the best way to explain.

“I’m sorry Lila, I just can’t stay here any longer.” At the look of hurt in Lila’s eyes, Gabrielle rushed to explain further.

“You know I love you, momma and papa very much Lila, but I just don’t feel that what comes next for me in my life, involves what you think it does.” Gabrielle sighed as she wiped away a trail of tears that had begun to make their way down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to Mary perducus Lila and I really don’t want to become a house wife. Maybe that’s what you want and if it is, that’s wonderful and I fully support. But I just don’t identify with that myself. I need to find out what comes next for me and I don’t think I’ll be able to do that here. But I promise I’ll make sure to visit as much as possible.”

Lila nodded as the two sisters hugged.

“I can’t pretend to understand why you feel the need to go Gabrielle, but you know I’ll always love and support you no matter what. Just promise me you’ll be safe ok?” Gabrielle smiled and nodded.

“Thank you Lila, that means a lot to me. And of course I promise.” She replied.

And with that, Gabrielle got back up, grabbed hold of her bag once again and waved at her sister, feeling her stomach clench and her palms beginning to sweat.

This was it. She was actually going to do this.

But where exactly should she go first? Gabrielle had no idea, but she couldn’t help but to be drawn towards dining a nice beach somewhere. After all, she had never seen one before due to it being too far for her family to travel on foot, and they certainly couldn’t afford to purchase horses.

So that’s where she set off too, deciding that if she headed one way for a long enough period of time, that hopefully she would find a beach. And if that didn’t work, she’d be sure to ask for directions on the way.

[blueluneacy]

Confessions

AAAAAAAAND WE DID IT BOYS! Yes, I am posting this late. no, I do not care. it’s the TA!Jotaro/reader first place fic!

Word Count: 4k

Also on AO3!

Warnings: not sfw, slight manhandling, bratty ass reader, slight dubcon if you squint, cumming inside

Maybe this wasn't the best outfit to wear to lecture. It really did fit rather tightly around your ass, and god, if you lifted your arms, half of your torso showed. It really didn’t leave anything to the imagination, but who cared? I mean, maybe, but also, you didn’t care much. I mean, what was the worst that could happen, right? Your TA stares at you the entire class? Newsflash, he does that anyway. It was so obvious that Jotaro Kujo had a thing for you, and it honestly boosted your self confidence at least tenfold. He was attractive, strong, and smart. Anyone attracted to men would want to be with a guy like that, but he kept to himself mostly. If you weren’t more perceptive, or maybe if he wasn’t so weird about it all, then you probably wouldn’t have noticed in the first place. But the way his eyes seemed to keep on you for a moment too long, the way he lingered by your desk for just a moment longer than everyone else, the way he almost seemed to freeze up when he heard your voice, it was all too obvious. 

But then, why didn’t Kujo admit it? You were constantly dropping hints at this point that you were interested, often loudly talking about how you were single and looking for a partner while you knew Jotaro was in earshot, but he wouldn’t bite. Not that you were interested in him or anything… Well, that’s a lie. You totally were interested in him, but Jotaro was interested  in you first, so he had to be the one to admit that he liked you. Those were the rules. Totally.

But, alas, you didn’t have much time to really consider the pros and cons of your outfit. You only had Kujo’s discussion today, thank god. It should be a crime to have class on Friday anyway, not to mention that it was at ten in the morning. It should be illegal to have a class this early. Yes, you were at this point nocturnal, but you were also in college. You don’t exist before noon. So naturally, you were up getting ready for your class way later than when you told yourself at three AM last night, and you kind of had to get a move on.  You already had forfeited a real breakfast, stuffing bagels into your backpack and eating them during your discussion would have to do. 

So you headed off on the uneventful walk to your class. Thank god it wasn’t on the other side of campus, otherwise you probably wouldn’t have come for most of the semester. It was always such a hassle to get all the way over there, you didn’t want to deal with it. You couldn’t remember if you actually checked where this class was when you signed up for it, so you couldn’t be certain if this was some sort of foresight on your sight, or just plain luck. Either way, you got to the classroom pretty quickly, sitting down exactly 2 minutes before class was supposed to actually start. You snagged a seat towards the back so you could eat your bagels in peace, but still seem like you were totally paying attention. Jotaro’s eyes on you didn’t go unnoticed, but you couldn’t care to comment on them now, too invested in the idea of food as you pulled out your notebook to take notes on whatever was going to be rambled on about. Jotaro stayed on topic with your chapter, but he seemed to have preferences in what he was talking about. You could tell that what he enjoyed talking about and what he didn’t, because it just showed in the way his tone changed based on the topic. But today… Well, you weren’t paying so much attention to what Jotaro was saying, as the tone of his voice. His voice seemed lower than usual, with a strange gravelly quality to it. Was he sick? I mean, his eyes were on you, they tended to be, but they seemed so much more glued onto you than they were before. You took a bite of your bagel, not even remembering the outfit you decided to wear today and the possible effect that it might have on the man you were certain was at least mildly attracted to you. Nah, you were too busy with that damn bagel. 

So, you let yourself get lost in the cantor of Jotaro’s voice as he talked about this or that regarding this biology course. Truly, you could care less. He was just spitting out everything that the professor had to say during lecture, so why bother? You had your notes and you were fairly sure you understood everything that was discussed. And if you found when you finally reviewed your notes that you had no idea what was going on, then you could go to the million review sessions that were available to you before the text. It would really be fine, absolutely no worries. And thank god, discussions were only fifty minutes. You told yourself that you were going to go back to your dorm and study after this, but you knew deep in your heart that you were going to scroll through social media for an hour, get an early lunch, and then go back to sleeping until like five, where you would rouse yourself and prepare to forget the entirety of your evening. Well… At least, that was the plan, anyway.

And that was that. Class ended without a hitch, and you slowly started to pack up your stuff. It seemed so tiring to have all these people try to cram information into your head so quickly, but alas. College was needed for basically every job industry these days, there was no way really out of it. That didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain on an almost daily basis though. You were thinking about whether or not bacon was going to be left when Jotaro’s voice cut through your thoughts, forcefully and without shame.

“(Y/n). A word after everyone clears out.” You would smirk at that, but the tone of Jotaro’s voice wasn’t what you expected. It seemed frustrated, almost angry. Oh fuck, what had you done wrong now? What possibly could you have done to get yourself in trouble, the whole time you were just sitting in the back and… Wait, was eating in class allowed? Oh no. Oh god, were you really going to get called out for fucking eating a bagel? Life was truly cruel. 

You swallowed as you watched everyone trail out of the room, silently pleading that someone stay, keep you from this nightmare that was confrontation. God, when you said you wanted Jotaro to talk to you, you didn’t mean like this! But everyone left, the door was closed behind Jotaro, and you lugged yourself over to the front of the room to sit across from his teacher’s desk. You didn't even notice how Jotaro locked the door.

“I assume you know why you’re here.” His voice seemed so careful, measured as he sat down, and for once, his piercing eyes made you shrink into your seat. But no, you couldn’t just give in and give up now! You had to be strong! Or, at least act like you were strong.

“Yeah, and I’m not sorry, it was just a bagel, dude. If you have to get your power fantasy from yelling at me for fulfilling a basic need, then maybe see a therapist.” You crossed your arms, vaguely noticing how it pulled your top just a little lower. Jotaro snorted and shook his head, actually amused at how confident you were. About the completely wrong thing, but hey. You really had the spirit.

“You really think I would give a damn about a some stupid bread? You know, I thought you were maybe playing hard to get, but maybe you’re just dense.” He replied, leaving you just a bit shocked. You were so trapped in the euphoria of bread that you forgot you were wearing clothes specifically meant to drive Jotaro wild. “You think I wouldn’t notice your little stunt. I ought to tear off that little outfit and fuck you over this counter like you deserve.” There was a certain growl in Jotaro’s voice that left your knees weak, and you struggled to keep up with the sudden change of demeanor. Maybe you didn’t know Jotaro as well as you liked to think you did, not able to read him as well as previously interpreted. Still, you did your best to pull yourself together, hoping to strike back with some semblance of wit. Even if Jotaro was expressing some sort of feelings for you, you weren’t just going to show all your cards now. Best to keep bluffing and see how the match turns out.

“If that’s what I deserve, I’m not sure I have many objections. But are you actually going to do it, or are you just going to continue to sit there and talk?” You let a smile crawl across your face as Jotaro’s expression got darker, and in what seemed to be instant, he was on the other side of the desk, his lips crashing against yours. You gasped against the kiss, allowing Jotaro to push him tongue into your mouth as his hands reached your hips, grabbing onto them tight. He remained there for a good moment, pulling away when you were finally gasping to put air back in your lungs. He just growled as he used the moment to help pull your top off, throwing it to the side as his eyes took in your form.

“Such a dirty thing, dressing up like that. You like the attention, don’t you? You should only be seen like that by me.” He leaned in to run a hand through your hair as you eagerly moved to unbutton Jotaro’s shirt, ready to get this moving as much as he was. “You’re fucking mine, no one else should be allowed to see you like that.” He replied. You just laughed and hummed as Jotaro shrugged off his coat, ready to bite back just a bit.

“Oh, I’m yours now? I don’t recall that ever being something we agreed upon. Maybe I’m missing something? Like the part where you confessed your feelings to me?” You teased, Jotaro’s freed arm wrapping around you to bring you just a bit closer. It was like if he didn’t hang onto you, you might flutter away, like sand slipping through his fingers, never to return.

“I’ll make you mine then, fuck. You don’t know what you do to me, how many nights I’ve been awake without you there. I love you, you should’ve figured that out by now.” Jotaro grumbled a bit, almost childishly. You paused for a moment, before laughing a bit, shaking your head. God, maybe the reason Jotaro was so quiet was that he never could get out his words in a cool way. When he started talking in a way that wasn’t explicitly planned out, it was almost like he was just saying the first words that came into his brain. Well, maybe he was. Who can say. 

“I know. I was just waiting for you to come out and say it. I couldn’t tell if you were shy or just denying your feelings, so I figured I would give you time in case it was the latter.” Well, that was a total lie. You just wanted a cute confession where Jotaro was all blushing and shit, but that was all out the window now anyway, so who cared?

“Liar. You just were being a sadist.” He chuckled a bit, leaving you just to roll your eyes as you slowly moved down to your knees. Well, fuck it. The two of you were horny, and if you were keeping your shirt off, you were at least going to get a little action here. 

“Maybe I am. Wouldn’t you like to know?” You replied, moving to unbuckle Jotaro’s belt. Belts? It was confusing. Either way, you got the damn thing unbuckled and moved to Jotaro’s zipper, noticing the massive bulge that was clearly straining against Jotaro’s trousers. Jotaro was a big guy, so it would make sense that it would translate to that, but still. Gulp.

“You seem nervous all of a sudden. Why’s that?” You just rolled your eyes at Jotaro’s smirk, slightly tempted to tease him further just for looking that smug at you. But no, not today. Another time, maybe, but not today. You reached and yanked down his pants and underwear without much fanfare. He let a low growl out of his throat from the action, but you were more focused on the size of Jotaro in general. What was your plan for all of this again? You weren’t sure, but mama didn’t raise no quitter. You just leaned in and wrapped your hand around the base of Jotaro’s shaft, looking up at him coyly.

“I’m not nervous at all. Don’t you worry about a thing.” You told Jotaro before leaning forward, hollowing out your cheeks and wrapping your lips around Jotaro’s cock. He immediately let out a groan and let a hand rest on top of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair but not gripping down, allowing you to adjust and set your own pace. You saw Jotaro’s blissful expression and felt just a bit of pride well up in you, knowing that you were the one who caused him that. You slowly moved your head, only being able to reach about halfway before you hit the back of your throat, your body threatening to choke on him, but you make up for it by using your hand on what your lips couldn’t reach. 

You moved at a slow, worshipful pace, taking in the expression on Jotaro’s face as well as slowly working on getting your throat to relax so you could take Jotaro deeper. You could tell he was holding himself back from making any sounds, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard you swore that he was going to make himself bleed. You couldn't help but rub your own legs together, unable to sate that aching heat that was pooling in your gut, leaving you to let out a small moan. The vibrations only seemed to spur Jotaro on, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips slightly. You gasped, pulling away from a moment to take a breath, before smirking up at Jotaro.

“You couldn’t help yourself, huh? I bet you would like it if I let you-” You couldn’t get your words out before Jotaro’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you forward and back down onto his cock. You gagged as he pushed all the way back into your throat, but he just groaned, rubbing your head slightly as if to comfort you. You moaned just a little, willing your throat to loosen just a bit, letting your own fingers dig into your pants as you whimpered at the heat inside of you.

“You talk too much. Just let me… That’s it, that’s better…” Jotaro’s voice was low, akin to something almost guttural as he began to move in your mouth, holding you tight enough to keep you still, but not so tight that you couldn’t move if you truly wanted to. You did your best to stay put, at least. It was actually sort of hot to be manhandled like this, not that you would ever admit that to him. You just moaned and did your best to breathe through your nose as Jotaro had his way with you, relishing in the way his hips would stutter just a little whenever you took the initiative to use your tongue or moan on you. You felt your drool start to drip down your chin as Jotaro’s hips stuttered a bit more, and you could tell that he was close to cumming. But it seemed that right before he actually did, he quickly pulled himself out of your mouth, leaving you to sputter and gasp for a moment. But that moment didn’t last long, Jotaro easily moving forward to push you to the ground, immediately moving to pull off your pants and underwear. You squeaked as your back hit the ground, Jotaro moving in to press his lips against your neck as he pressed up against your entrance.

“Fuck, I bet you would be so tight for me.... Please, let me, I want you so badly…” Jotaro groaned, and if you were any more lost in your own lust, you might actually say yes. But, your own rationality was enough to tell you that Jotaro was far too big, and you were not in the slightest prepared.

“J-Jotaro, please… You know you’re too big, I’m not ready yet… Soon, I just got to be prepared a bit…” You replied, and although Jotaro pouted just a bit, he obliged. You moved to use your own fingers, but Jotaro quickly swatted you away, pushing one of his own inside of you. You immediately let out a soft whimper. God, Jotaro’s hands were way bigger than yours, but still, you weren’t expecting something like this. You felt your toes curl as Jotaro poked and prodded inside of you, adding another finger to help scissor you open.

“G-God, Jotaro… Feels so good, fuck…” You whined, moving to drape your arms over Jotaro’s shoulders and try to pull him closer. It was nice to feel just his skin against yours. He felt so much warmer than you, like his heat was trying to swallow you up, bring you closer to him. Whatever it was, it was working. As Jotaro slowly worked you open, you felt your knees go a bit weak, Jotaro’s lips and occasional teeth on your neck enough to make you moan. Pray to god there isn’t meant to be a class here anytime soon.

You let out a displeased grumble as Jotaro pulled his fingers out of you, your body clamping around him in an attempt to keep him inside of you. Although you were still probably shittily prepared, it was enough for you to throw out all reason as Jotaro moved back to rut against you, a low growl coming from his throat enough to make you quiver.

“Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you.” His voice was in your ear as he threatened to nip at it, unable to control his mouth from bruising you wherever he got access. Still, you weren’t opposed to the idea of begging. If it meant getting what you wanted, you might do anything.

“F-Fuck, please, Jotaro! Need you, need you so bad! I love you, please, I love you so much, want you to fuck me, please!” You barely registered the words coming out of your mouth, but Jotaro’s eyes widened and left him almost sputtering as he pushed inside of you, groaning as your nails dug into his shoulders. He pushed in slowly, staying still as he could while you adjusted to him. There was certainly a sting from the stretch, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t handle. You took a deep breath and tried to regain any semblance of self you had, only for Jotaro to start moving again, and you lost your composure all over again. 

Jotaro let his nails dig into your hips hard enough to draw blood, gripping you tightly as he began to thrust into you at a brutal pace, leaving you to moan as you tried to pull Jotaro ever closer.

“Tell me that you love me. Tell me again, please. Tell me, god, tell me over and over…” Jotaro groaned, and god, you were more than happy to oblige. Who even cares if you spilled the beans first in a technical sense? Maybe you said the words first, but Jotaro was more than happy to show his affection. Hey, you weren’t about to complain about it. 

“Fuck, love you, Jotaro. Love you so much, loved you since I first saw you, fuuuck, there, feels so good, I love you, please!” You whined out, Jotaro just growling and moving faster. You tried to move, to grind your hips against Jotaro the best you could, but Jotaro just held you in place, refusing to let you move. He was content in fucking you until you could barely move at his own pace, which just so happened to be as fast as humanly possible.

“I love you too, (Y/n). You’re mine, all mine, I love you so much, don’t ever leave me. Please, say you’re mine, I’m yours!” Jotaro growled, pressing his forehead against yours in an attempt to gain just a bit more contact with you.

“All yours, Jotaro, all yours! God, I’m gonna cum, please!” You whined out, feeling your body start to tighten and flutter on Jotaro’s cock, the coil in your belly threatening to snap at any moment you would let it. Jotaro just groaned, your words spurring him on to move faster, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he felt himself coming to a close.

“Fuck, cum with me, please, fuck, gonna cum inside you, fill you up, all mine, god-!” He groaned, snapping his hips forward one last time before you felt a warm heat start to fill you up, enough to push you over the edge and leave you clawing down Jotaro’s back, your eyes rolling into your skull. 

The two of you sat like that for a while, bodies pressed against each other as the two of you caught your breath, basking in each other’s presence. After a few minutes, Jotaro finally pulled out and let his lips catch against yours, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. You heartily pressed back into it, letting yourself melt into it as the two of you shared this tender moment.But, as soon as it began, it seemed to end, with Jotaro pulling himself up and starting to redress himself. You pouted, looking up at him.

“I guess you’re not the cuddling type.” You were half teasing, crossing your arms just a little to show you were just the slightest bit upset. Jotaro just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a fan of cuddling on dirty classroom floors, no. You should have higher standards for yourself.” He replied, leaving you only to laugh.

“You didn’t mind the floor when we were-” You teased, but Jotaro only rolled his eyes and cut you off.

“Shut up. I swear, I don’t know how I’m going to survive you as a partner.” Jotaro replied as he pulled his belt on. The comment made you pause. Partners?

“W-What do you mean by that? Are you saying we’re dating now?” You asked, feeling your cheeks start to heat up just the slightest bit.

“What else? Seriously, you don’t know how to read the room at all.” Jotaro sighed, holding his hand out to you. You paused for a moment before taking it gingerly, only to be yanked up and pulled into Jotaro’s arms. You gasped, feeling yourself pressed up against Jotaro as he held you in his arms.

“Hey. I love you, you know.” You whispered, unable to keep the words from dribbling out of your mouth. It was quick, quiet, as if you didn’t want Jotaro to hear. As if it was some big secret, or that you were afraid that his strong arms would let you go if he heard those words. But he held onto you still, keeping you close to his chest as his hand brushed through your hair. It was almost tender, in a way that made your already jelly knees weaken.

“Don’t worry. I love you too.” Jotaro replied, leaning in to press a kiss against your lips. You let your arms wrap around him, praying that this was no dream. 

But this was real, thank god, and you never felt more at home than you did right now.