#the timing of this chapter is a bit uncanny but whatever

[mikkomacko]

Straight From a Romance Novel

Pairing: Nico Hischier x female reader

Summary: Nico's trying to get his girls attention but is thrown for a loop when she's more interested in the book she's reading. After prying, he finds out why

Warnings: smut, literally the whole thing is just smut lol, cursing

A/n: Uncanny timing that I finish this as the whole book tok thing is happening but this has nothing to do with hockey romance novels lol...still funny timing though.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

The house in Switzerland is always quieter than their home in Jersey. Without their friends and teammates running around, chatting and laughing over music or something on the tv, the calm house almost feels empty. And for a moment, Nico thinks it might be. The kitchen is empty, any remaining presence of the large dinner you shared only a couple hours before has been wiped clean, revealed only by the humming dishwasher.

He finds the living room empty as well, the tv off and couch cushions missing ruffles and dents in the spot she usually curls up on. Every throw pillow and blanket is perfectly fluffed and placed. He doesn’t even bother checking the sunroom attached to the living room, seeing that the room is dark and the glass door most likely locked.

Usually she sprawls out on the patio furniture there when he goes for his evening run, watching the sun set and painting her nails or crocheting. Sometimes he even comes home to her asleep out there, the open windows blowing the summer breeze in, carrying the sounds of chirping crickets with it.

Nico takes a swig of his water bottle, gripping the hem of his sweaty shirt and lifting it to wipe at his mouth. He decides to just rip off the soiled cloth, pulling it over his head and swiping at his damp chest and neck. Still trying to rid himself of sweat, he drags the fabric down his abdomen and around to his back, moving down the hallway as he does so.

It’s the warm smell of vanilla that leads him to her, it’s aroma drifting into the hall. He smiles, let’s the scent soak into his nose and lungs, stirring up thoughts of her. It’s her favorite, vanilla. It’s in her perfume, her hair products, her lotions and oils, probably even her deodorant.

Through the open door he spots her, nestled into a stack of pillows against the headboard of their shared bed. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid that falls over her shoulder, messy and half undone because she always tugs out pieces to twirl around her finger as she gets ready for bed. Sweater paws hold a book out in front of her, the string of whatever hoodie she snagged from him pinched between her teeth. And sure enough, a vanilla candle burns on the nightstand next to her.

Nico steps into the room, admires the look of concentration on her face as he carelessly kicks his shoes off by the dresser. She doesn’t react to him, instead flips the page and drags her eyes across the first paragraph. He approaches the side of the bed, laying his wet shirt over his shoulder as he cups the back of her head. She hums distractedly, leans a bit towards him but doesn’t dare stop reading. He knows she likes to end chapters before bed so he simply presses a kiss to her temple and right below her ear. Her skin is hot and dewy under his lips, most likely from the sweater she’s wearing and he makes a mental note to get it off of her the moment he crawls into bed.

But for now he disappears into the master bathroom, shrugging off his clothes and dropping them in the hamper. A quick cool shower refreshes him, eases his bones and muscles to the point that he feels like jello when he enters the bedroom again. She’s still in the same spot on the bed, nose in her book but he’s hoping the sight of him crossing their room in nothing but a towel will catch her attention.

Nico digs out a pair of boxers, dropping his towel so he can pull them up his legs. Once the band sits low on his hips he pretends to fix his hair in the dresser mirror, utilizing the chance to peek at her in the reflection. To his utter dismay, she’s still got her eyes on the stupid pages of the book. He’s about to sigh, maybe pout a bit, and open and slam the drawer again so she’ll look at him. Until he notices the look on her face.

What he thought was concentration before is in fact something else. The way she’s tucked her lip into her mouth, teeth turning the flesh ruby red. Wide eyes, intrigued and excited as they flutter over the pages. No not excited, enticed. And her warm skin he’d felt earlier, he decides, isn’t from her sweatshirt. He bets he could see her pulse beating in her neck if he got close enough.

If it weren’t for that stupid book Nico would think that she did in fact watch him get dressed and is trying to hide how flustered it made her. But she’s been warm and distracted like that since he walked in the room. What is she reading?

He turns around, arms crossing over his chest as he just watches her. If she notices his staring she doesn’t care because her fingers just flip the page and her teeth continue to gnaw at her lips. It distracts him for a moment, the way her bottom one has swelled and bled into the skin around her lips. It reminds him of how good her smile always looks after he’s messily kissed her breathless.

It’s the movement of her legs that brings him back to his task. She uncrosses her legs for just a second, stretching them across the bed before swapping her right leg over the left. He catches the way she wiggles, how her bare toes curl just for a beat and his stomach swoops.

She’s reading porn.

There’s no way she’s not. He knows her tells, her mannerisms when she’s turned on. Knows how her eyes light up and grow hungry, all starry and desperate. He’s seen first hand how her skin flushes and grows warm, how he can press his tongue to the pulse in her neck and feel her heart pounding.

Intrigued, Nico moves towards the foot of the bed. He wills his smirk to go away, playing innocent as he knees his way onto the mattress. On instinct she separates her legs for him, allowing him to climb up her body. Nico has a habit of snuggling into her like this when she reads so he barely has to duck down under her book as she lifts it for him. Settling his hips in her parted thighs, Nico rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes with his nose pressed into her neck. Sure enough he can hear the rapid beat of her heart, smell the arousal on her neck.

“Baby,” he murmurs as her elbows come to rest on his back. Nico doesn’t need to look to know she’s still reading, but he feels her hum in response.

“Do you love me?”

She laughs quietly. “I love you Nico.”

He smiles, presses his lips to her neck and teases the tip of his tongue along her warm skin. Her breath shudders, a leg comes up around his waist and nudges him closer. He hisses quietly, the semi he’s been sporting since he realized what she was doing presses comfortably into her thighs.

“Will you read to me?”

She hesitates. He hears her heart beat jump. “No…”

“Please?” He begs, “I want to hear the story.”

She giggles nervously. “I don’t want to.”

Nico nips at her neck again, shifting his hips into her even more. The thin cotton underwear she’s wearing does nothing to hide the heat between her legs.

“Because you’re reading something dirty?”

Almost immediately she shuts the book, jolting as much as she possibly can with his weight on her. Nico grins devilishly as she moves to shove the book under the pillows.

He laughs, pushing himself up to his knees so he can make a grab for the book but she hugs it to her chest instead, squealing at his pawing hands. Nico tries to wiggle his large hands under her elbows and then her biceps, anywhere to gain access to that book but she just laughs and squeezes it tighter. It gets to the point that his grabby hands are just tickling her, making her curl up into herself and putting the book even more out of reach.

“Let me see!” He shouts through giggles, cheeks throbbing from smiling so hard. She laughs again, shaking her head no and somehow managing to wiggle onto her stomach under him. With the book now hidden between her and the mattress, Nico rests all his weight on the back of her thighs, pining her down.

“My arms are falling asleep,” she says breathlessly, looking at him over her right shoulder. Nico scoops her hair out of the way, pushing it over her left shoulder so she can see him better.

“Give me the book and I’ll let you go.”

She scoffs, still refusing. Knowing she’ll have to give in eventually Nico simply drapes himself over her back, ghosting his lips over the back of her neck. Goosebumps rise on her skin and she shivers, wiggling under him with a tiny giggle. Smirking, Nico presses the bulge in his boxers into her butt, letting his small moan run over her neck in a hot breath.

“Nico stop,” she protests quietly, and if he thought she actually meant it he would. But he can hear it in her voice, how turned on she is. She knows he’s going to break her, even if he has to use his mouth and hands to do it. He’s determined to see that book and if he has to rile her up, tease her into giving it to him, he will.

“Stop what?” He murmurs innocently, sitting up and ghosting his hand down her back. His fingers find the hem of her sweatshirt, pushing it up to reveal the dimples at the base of her spine and the curve of her bottom. He presses his thumb into the dip, licking his lips when he hears the pleasured noise she chokes back. Nico grips her side, holds her still so he can press himself into her even more.

She laughs softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Stop putting your dick on me!”

Nico laughs, amused at her whininess and her words. For a moment he lets himself feel the bubble of love in his chest, the way it makes him float, tethered to the ground by nothing but her. He almost abandons all thoughts of seeing that book in favor of seeing her especially when his other hand falls to her waist, gripping her side and rutting his hips forward on instinct.

It’s just enough to tease him, to remind him of what it feels like to have her bent over their bed like this while he makes them feel good. Sometimes this is what he thinks about on long road trips away from her, when he wants to replay the pleasure in his head. He pictures her on their bed. And what about her? Does she read this stuff? Is it the words of someone else that makes her feel good when he’s not home?

“No,” Nico finally says, an edge of whininess in his own tone now. He doesn’t like the thought of her preferring that stupid book over him. “not until you let me see that book.”

She groans in annoyance, turning her head to bury her face in the pillows of the bed. Nico eases up on her, lifts his weight back into his knees so he’s just caging her in. With the space to move again, she flops back over onto her back, his hands following her movements as she goes.

Nico smiles when she looks at him, her cheeks flush and eyes shift over his face. She’s nervous, he realizes and not just in a please-fuck-me way but actual anxiety. He softens, cups her face in his right hand and leans down to press his lips to hers. It’s just a quick, soft peck but the reassurance he was trying to convey must come across as she lets out a breath of relief.

“Just want to know what you like,” Nico explains “I’m not going to tease or laugh. S’like I just want to know what I’m competing with.”

Her hold on the book slackens the tiniest bit. “Compete with?” She questions “Nico you have no competition. Nothing could even compare.”

Pride swells in his chest. Her praise makes his veins buzz, his dick throb in his boxers. He’s tempted to pull himself from the fabric, provide a little relief from how tight his underwear has gotten but now might not be the time.

“Still,” he presses “I’m curious my love.”

She rolls her eyes but a smile tugs at her lips and he knows he’s won her over. Eager, Nico bites at his bottom lip and sits back on his haunches, hands running down her thighs appreciatively.

“Fine,” she relents “but you have to close your eyes.” Nico opens his mouth to object, already prepared to lean foreword and bribe her with kisses. “And only a page!”

“That’s not fair!”

“My book, my rules Hischier. Now close ‘em.”

Huffing, Nico does as told and closes his eyes. Surrounded by darkness, his other senses peak, making him hyper aware of her warm skin and heavy breaths. The rustle of the book as she flips to her previous page is loud in his ears and it makes his stomach knot with anticipation. His mind reels, flashing through different scenarios she could be reading about and each one he pictures behind closed eyelids has his dick growing thicker. He feels a bit pathetic when it only takes her a minute to find her spot in the book and he’s already on the verge of reaching down to rub one out because he’s so excited.

Before he can really think about it she’s clearing her throat softly, her legs adjusting under him just the tiniest bit. He wonders if she’s still nervous about reading to him, not that she should be.

“Kay,” she croaks quietly, “you ready?”

Nico nods, licking over his lips anxiously and digging his fingers into her thick thighs to ground himself. He’s not too sure he likes this whole not being able to see thing, but for her he’ll try anything.

“She had never met someone like him, been with someone like him. She had only known one kind of loving, the hard and fast kinds that felt good in the moment but burned out quickly. It only lingers for as long as the muscles in her thighs burn and by the time the sweat on her skin has dried, she’s left with nothing but that too fast lover next to her.

“Jax is different-“

Nico scrunches his nose at the name of this man, thinking it’s far too close to the name Jack and far too different from his own name.

“With him comes passion. A slow burning candle rather than a fast lit fuse. She likes that he takes his time, drags his mouth over every inch of skin he can get. Just as he does now. Plump, wet lips moving up her thighs, soft in their kiss but rough with intent. Jax nips at her flesh, licks closer and closer to the bundle of nerves he’d just abused with his fingers-“

He can hear in her voice how enthralled she is with this man, or at least with what he’s doing. Her words are breathy and hot, some barely murmurs from her lips. Nico can’t seem to tell if he should be jealous of this fake character or impressed. In just a paragraph Jax has knocked his girl breathless and horny, filled her voice with a lust that has Nico’s cock aching.

She continues reading, retelling Jax’s wet and sloppy head performance on the main character but Nico’s not exactly paying attention anymore. Not to the book at least. Instead he’s listening to her, soaking in the sound of her describing what it feels like on the woman’s side. How it burns in her belly, swirls in her chest, curls her toes. He likes hearing her breath catch when she talks about how it aches, how she’s greedy for the pleasure this man provides.

It’s like she’s physically remembering what that feels like. His girl pauses for a moment, her soft pants filling the air and he suddenly realizes how hard he’s breathing, how sweat is building on his neck and shoulders. He’s holding her thighs for dear life, clutching at her like she might disappear under his fingertips.

“Don’t stop,” he begs quietly, desperate to hear her repeat the moment this girl in the book comes. He needs to know if there’s reminiscing in her tone, if she’s recalling moments she’s felt that good as she reads.

“I don’t want to read anymore,” she replies, and he hears her shut the book. He opens his eyes just in time to see her carelessly toss it to the floor. The room is bright when he looks down at her and black spots swim in his vision from how tightly he’d closed his eyes.

She looks up at him with dark eyes, her lips swollen and bitten red. Her teeth catch the bottom one again, sinking into the flesh and his painfully hard dick throbs so deep it hurts in his gut. As if sensing his pain, her eyes flicker down to his lap. Instinctively, Nico widens his thighs for her, welcoming her closer. Abiding, she lifts a hand from the bedsheets and places it over the one he now has splayed across her belly, squeezing his fingers momentarily. Then she’s trailing her fingers towards him, slow and teasing.

“You like the book?” She questions with a hint of amusement. Nico’s brain swirls, his eyes watching her fingertips dance down her sweater and towards the bulge in his boxers. When he doesn’t answer she slows her movements and he huffs frustratedly before finally coming up with a response.

“Is that what it feels like?” He asks “For you? S’that why you read it?”

His tone isn’t condescending or mean, not a hint of judgment on his tongue. He’s just intrigued, curious. Nico never in a million years thought a porn book could turn him on let alone his girl, especially when they’ve got each other to help out. He wants to know what it is that made her read that book instead of coming to him.

“Kind of,” she responds, her hand now on his thigh. “He reminds me of you.”

Oh

Nico swallows. Hard. His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth and her fingers suddenly weigh heavy on his skin. He tries to think of something to say, knows he has a million things he could say to her but nothing comes to mind. She thinks this guy is like him?

“Some of the things he does.” She continues “How he teases and picks on her but he’s still safe and sweet. And he’s strong but not with her.

"It's you, you're straight from a romance novel."

God she hasn’t even touched him yet and he thinks he’s going to come. With every little compliment his cock thickens more (if that’s even possible) and his skin is buzzing. Like a flip has switched, his mouth waters, his mind slows down just enough for him to meet her gaze. Her pupils blown wide and dark, eyes shiny with need. He smirks.

“Can’t even read a book without thinking of me?” He murmurs “I’m that good huh?”

She simpers, realizing he’s come back to himself. “So good Nico.”

He swipes his hands under her sweater, pushes it up her abdomen and chest until she has to pull her hand back. She sits up just enough for him to pull it over her head, tossing it to floor as he takes in her newly exposed skin. Not that he really needs to. He could draw her body ten shots in and with his eyes closed.

While he’s busy admiring the dip of her collarbones, the way her nipples have hardened in the cool air, she sneaks her hand back down between them. Nico’s just made up his mind to mark her left breast with his teeth when she cups his cock through his underwear.

White flashes in his vision, tingles of pleasure shooting down his legs and he practically falls forward into her from how sensitive he’s grown. Nico crashes his mouth into her smiling one, silencing her amused giggles with his tongue. He nips at her bottom lip, grunting when she methodically squeezes him in her palm.

“You gonna let me make you come like that?” He asks, lips ghosting over hers. She holds his gaze, eyes dreamy and far off like he’s just kissed her silly. “On my tongue? Always taste so good sweetheart.”

It takes a second, but she eventually mumbles a displeased sound. “Just want you to fuck me Nico. Been waiting long enough.”

She catches his lips again, this time taking over as she swipes her tongue at his bottom lip before drawing back and sinking her teeth into it. He hisses, ruts his hips into her hand.

“Could’ve been fucking you a while ago if you’d put down that book,” he informs, pushing himself back up to his knees. "I even put on a little show for you before I got dressed."

Nico wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand back from him and instead bringing it up to his mouth. She whines at his interruption, eyebrows pinching together but he just smiles, pressing lazy kisses to her palm and fingers.

“You know I looked,” she whispers, eyes flickering down his body just once before meeting his gaze again. “I always look.”

Teasing, Nico cocks his head to the side. “Still pretended like you didn’t see me? Ouch babe.”

Something like shyness bleeds into her features, her gaze growing bashful. “Didn’t want to be needy.”

Oh his sweet girl. Doesn’t she know that she’s always needy? It’s one of his favorite things about her. How clingy and pliant she gets when he fucks her, when she’s desperate for his touch.

Nico intertwines their fingers, pushing them onto the pillow by her head as he leans back down to kiss her.

“Never stopped you before…” he murmurs, kissing her chin. Before she can respond he’s getting up, pulling her with him by the hand until they’re both standing at the bottom of the bed. His hands move to her hips, drawing her up to her tip toes and into his chest. She complies, rising to meet his mouth as she holds his face between her palms.

Her skin is soft and warm under his fingertips, begging to be traced and worshipped by him. Nico tugs her in closer, her belly pressing into his cock has his knees shaking and she greedily swallows the moan that escapes him.

Slipping his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, Nico drags his hand around to her ass, pawing at his favorite part of her. Well almost favorite, he still fucking loves her smile more than anything else.

She parts from his mouth, panting out a whimper when he digs his nails into her skin just enough to sting. The sound has him needy for more, aching to hear her again so he tugs down her underwear. He works it down her thighs until the cotton fabric falls to her ankles where she trips trying to kick it away, stumbling just enough that her arms lock around his neck for stability. The moment tugs him forward, his nose bumping into the corner of her eye.

He cups her face, running the pad of his thumb over the outer corner of her eye as she giggles. She’s clearly not in any pain or discomfort from the little bump in, but Nico kisses the area just to be safe before connecting his mouth to hers again. Her arms fall from his neck to his abdomen, fingers tracing over the dips of his stomach for a moment but when he trembles with shivers she moves them to his back. While she’s busy mapping out his spine his fingers find the end of her messy braid. She might not like it but he slips the hair tie off anyway, blindly unbraiding her oiled hair.

“Blegh,” he jokes, pulling his hand back from her hair and scrunching his nose “what is that?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes shoving his hand down. He grabs her waist, smoothing his hand back over her ass. “It’s oil to protect my ends while I sleep.”

“You couldn’t have done that after we have sex?”

“I was ready for bed!” She exclaims around a laugh, shaking her head when he just grins at her. Nico loves this, loves her. And he really loves that he’s lucky enough to fondle her butt and make her smile at the same time. He thinks he could probably die here in this moment and be happy.

She has other ideas.

“Oh fuck!”

One of her hands has snuck into his boxers, pulling the band back enough for his cock to spring up and her to fit her fingers around the width of him. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his sensitive skin jolts him, almost makes his knees buckle as pleasure shoots down his legs.

He never knows how she manages to get ahold of him so quickly and smoothly like that but it drives him wild every time. It’s like she knows to distract him with her beautiful laugh and pretty little eyes just so she can surprise him like that.

“Now that you’ve messed up my hair,” she tantalizes, leaning in close to his face. Her lips ghost over his, breath warm on his face. “Are you gonna finish the job Nico?”

Nico closes the gap, bites at her bottom lip harshly before soothing his tongue over it. He’s rough with it, more than he has been all night but if she’s going yo keep teasing him he’s going to make her pay for it.

Before the kiss can get too distracting he’s pulling back, licking his lips as he uses his hold on her ass and waist to spin her around. Her gasp of surprise has him smirking, nudging her forward onto the bed with a gentle but sturdy hand on the back of her neck.

“Finish the fucking job,” he mutters under his breath, lips quirking into a smile when she giggles into the mattress. “Just how I like it.”

He smoothes his hands over her ass as he says it, presses his slightly clothed cock forward. His toes curl, eyelids fluttering as he ruts into her once just to tease himself a bit more. The little bead of precum that slips out of the bare head of his cock is enough though, and he quickly shoves his underwear down with his left hand.

They get kicked off to the side somewhere, immediately forgotten in favor of the enticing woman bent over in front of him. Nico drops his hand between her spread thighs, two fingers growing straight to her dripping cunt. She mewls, arching her back as he spreads her wetness around. If he were feeling more patient tonight he’d take a moment to make her cum on his fingers but his cock is far too hard and heavy to do that now.

Instead he grips himself with the fingers that had just been teasing her, holding the base of his cock steady as he presses the head of him into her folds. She’s so fucking warm and inviting, her hips tilting to try and get him to push in further but he holds, inhaling deeply to keep himself bursting as soon as he’s fully seated inside her.

“Nico,” she whines, drawing out the last letter “more, please more.” And who is he to deny to his sweet girl, especially after she asked him so nicely. In one swift motion Nico fills her up, thighs and hips flush against her damp skin.

The noise he lets out is almost pathetic, a borderline whimper that squeaks out from the back of his throat the moment his cock is enveloped by her slick walls. But it’s nothing compared to her own sounds, whiny and pleasured gasps that make his stomach twist in pleasure.

Settling himself, Nico inhales deeply and talked a hold of her hips in both hands. He can’t hold back any longer, head titling back as he finally moves. With the knowledge that her book and his teasing had worked her up into a frenzy, Nico decides they’ve both had enough foreplay.

He’s deep and thorough with it, fucking into her until his lower belly is tight against the curve of her ass and then pulling back until just the tip of him teases at her walls.

“Oh fuck,” Nico groans when she rocks back on him, squeezing his cock. It feels good, she feels so fucking good. But he wants to fuck her, not the other way around.

He gathers her hair in his right hand, weaving the strands around his fingers tightly. He makes sure not to pull but keeps his hold strong enough that she’ll stop grinding back on him.

Nico waits for her to still before picking up his pace again, rutting his hips forward before pulling back, dragging his thick cock through her walls. Hitching forward, Nico presses his chest to her back, free hand wrapping around to hold the pudge of her stomach. She goes soft in his embrace, collapsing to the mattress until just his hands are keeping her up.

“Good girl,” he purrs in her ear, chuckling huskily when she clenches down on his cock and he ruts into her again. “My good girl…”

Pressing a wet kiss just below her ear, Nico straightens back up so he can have the leverage he needs to make her cum. And he does just that, holding her ass up and wrapping his fingers around her hair, Nico drives his cock into her until her knees wobble and give out. She squeezes his cock, pulsing with every deep push of his hips and whimpering into their bed sheets.

Nico’s arms burn from holding her up, thighs tight from being tensed for too long and the pull behind his belly button is so strong it’s uncomfortable. Still, he chases his own high, eyes fluttering shut and head tilted back as he abuses her spent pussy.

“Come on Nico,” he hears her encourage, voice begging. It makes his toes curl, the coil in his belly tighten even more. “I want you to come, please come for me.”

White stars burst behind closed eyelids, veins buzzing and burning in the best way possible as Nico releases his load into her. Cock still throbbing, he falls forward into her, squishing her between him and the mattress.

“Fuck me,” Nico mumbles, planting a kiss to her shoulder blade. Unable to stop himself, he ruts into her one more time just to hear how wet she is, feel how full he’s left her. She whimpers, overstimulated and tries to wiggle away but he’s got her pinned. Not that it matters, if he moves anymore he thinks his dick might fall off.

“M’gonna have to read that book of yours,” he declares, pushing himself up now that his muscles feel semi-normal. Gently, he slips out of her, cupping his softening member in his palm. She laughs as he promises to return in a second, moving into the bathroom for a towel. He cleans himself up before going back to her, still perched on the edge of the bed. Nico has to physically stop himself from looking between her thighs where he knows his cum probably dripping from her, afraid he’ll somehow get hard again.

“Would you hurry,” she dramatically complains, her smile present in her tone “my legs are tired.”

Snorting, Nico quickly helps clean her up, wiping the mess between her legs before folding the towel up and wiping at the sweat on her back with the dry area. He dots kisses to her bare skin as he does so, lightly slapping her ass before he discards of the soiled towel.

He digs up their discarded pjs, slipping his boxers back on before helping her into a shirt and her underwear. She’s braiding her hair again when Nico tucks himself into his side of the bed, finding her book by his nightstand.

Smirking he grabs it, humming thoughtfully while she quickly gets ready for bed. “Read me a bedtime story?” He requests, jutting out his bottom lip when she turns to face him.

Laughter bubbles out of her when she sees the book in his hand, rolling her eyes as she ties off her braid and climbs onto the bed.

“That’s enough of that book tonight,” she says, tugging it from his fingers and putting it back on the nightstand. Nico watches her slip under the blankets, rearranging her pillows before slipping low under the sheets.

She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts him.

Nico shuts off the bedside lamp, leaving them in the darkness before he too settles lower on the pillows. Then he wiggles closer to her, tucking himself into her side and throwing a leg over hers. She giggles, lays her hand over his before turning her head to him.

“I love you Nico,” she whispers, eyes glowing in the little bit of light in the room.

“Love you more sweetheart.” He replies, sealing their lips together for a chaste goodnight kiss. They break apart, settling in for sleep as the events of the night catch up with them. Nico’s barely conscious when he makes a mental reminder to find her more dirty books.

[oddheadd]

Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter III

Skinwalker/Wendigo x reader

CW: Gross things like rotting :P

SMUT!! Rough sex, voyerism, non-consentual at the end(?)

I couldn't sleep last night. The screaming kept me awake.

Screaming? It sounded animalistic, the broken voice desperately wheezing and calling for attention. I laid there helplessly, clutching my pillow and worrying about wether I locked my doors or not. I was too scared to check them, so I just kept staring at the curtains, my heart almost popping out of its place as I tried to look away from them.

I couldn't, and at about 5-6 am, when the screaming had stopped, I dozed off. I later woke up at 4 pm, and weirdly enough, I was inspired to write some more. I put my nightly terror into descriptive paragraphs and created a monster.

One with long, grey, skinny limbs and hair thin enough to see it's pure white eyes... Rotten teeth caging the slithering maggots in its hollow mouth.

I take a deep breath and close my laptop. I grab my phone and see that Nathan had texted me last night.

"Do you drink?"

I can't help but smile and instantly start typing.

"after whatever the hell happened last night, I do."

I put my phone away and make myself a quick meal. My phone buzzes.

"And what happned?"

I chuckle at his misspelling.

"I heard someone or something screaming. I couldn't sleep all night :("

He answers quickly;

"Jackals?"

And I answer just as fast.

"Kind of... It had an artificial echo to it? Don't know how to explain."

I purse my lips and put my phone down. Taking a bite out of the poor excuse of a meal.

"You could demonstrate, when I take you to a bar in the town."

Smile grows on my face as I reread his messages. I should go, what's the worst that can happen? So, we text each other the details and it's a date!

I leave the cabin and decide to look around the village this time. Ain't no way I'm going into the forest after last night.

I try my best to remember the way home as I walk past the other cabins. I admire the architecture - simple, but charming nonetheless. Then I spot a girl, no older than nine looking at me through the window. I smile and give her a wave.

She stays still and keeps staring at me. My hand falls back to my side, and so does my smile. I avoid her gaze and keep walking. I take a few pictures and maybe make a few angels in the snow, before I see an old woman, just barely walking. I approach her. - "Hello, want me to walk you home?"

I get a better look at her face. It's wrinkled, as if her skin is melting off her face. Her eyes are marble like, despite being as dark as coals. I can barely make out her lips that stretch into an uncanny line. Her hair as thin as the monster's that I made up.

She looks at me before her face scrunches up, even more, into a scowl. - "...What are you doing here?" - My mood falters.

"...I used to come here as a child... My mother passed and I decided to visit for a while." - I explain myself. She raises an eyebrow and grabs my arm for support.

"(Your mother)'s kid. You've... Changed, quite a bit."

I tilt my head. - "Do I know you?"

"You'd always steal from my brother's cherry trees. You used to be an annoying, little rascal."

I chuckle awkwardly. - "I get that a lot. So you live down the road?"

"You've become... A very appetizing person." - She says, avoiding my question. I try not to think about her weird wording.

"...Thank you?" - I say after a long pause.

"I used to be like you. Maybe my skin was healthier." - She scoffs, bits of her saliva falling out of her mouth. - "...Not fair... At all." - she sighs.

I stay quiet as she rambles, a little more comfortable now that we've approached her cabin.

"But whatever it wants, it gets." - She says. She tightens her grip. - "Count yourself lucky, being able to serve it like that."

After that I head straight to my cabin. I can't wait to drink with Nathan tonight.

Now as I stand in the snow, my ass literally freezing off, I start to feel disappointed. He promised he'd pick me up, but now I'm getting worried he got lost and mauled.

Tiny snowflakes start falling, adding onto the already layered snow that's coating the ground. I sigh and check my phone again. My frown intensifies, when I see there's no new messages.

I almost fall off the bench on the porch when I see a figure in the corner of my eye.

"Jesus, Nathan. Do you always have to scare me like that?" - I rest my palm on my chest, dramatically so.

He flashes me the Cheshire grin - "Sorry."

I get off the porch and shove my hands into my pocket, a wave of disappointment washing over me when the pockets are just as cold.

"I thought the huge deer got to you." - I tease.

He narrows his eyes. - "I'm at the top of the food chain, you don't have to worry about stuff like that." - He brags and gives me his hand. I take it with a snort, his hands as cold as mine. - "I don't think we can make it to the Bar, it's too far away. And, it's getting dark."

I pout. He chuckles. - "But I know how to make it up to you~" - He says and takes out a flask from his coat.

I raise an eyebrow. - "Charming."

I then walk back to the front door of the cabin and unlock it, going inside. - "Come on in, I'm freezing." - I complain and look at him.

He follows after me with a smile and looks around. - "It's pretty cozy in here."

I chuckle and sit him down onto the couch. - "I think we have some old wine in the attic. Try not to miss me too much."

"Don't worry, I'm patient." - he smiles softly.

I turn on the flashlight on my phone after a hard struggle against the attic door, coughing my lungs out when the dust flies around in the air. I climb up and start looking around the boxes for the wine.

I smile when I finally find it. There's two blood red bottles with no distinct label on them, so I pick them up. My smile falls as I see a... Doll? It's made out of straws, clearly resembling a human body. I pick it up and inspect further. Is this a hex? I put it back down and get up, chills running down my spine when I notice a big red symbol on the wall. I stare at it for a while before turning around and leaving with the bottles in my hands.

I have a guest right now, I'll deal with it later.

On my way, I grab go into the kitchen to get glasses.

"I only have mugs and teacups, no fancy glasses." - I say before grabbing the cups and sitting next to him. He throws his arm around my shoulder.

"I don't look like the fancy type though, do I?" - He chuckles and I shrug.

I pour us some wine and sip from my cup. - "So, why did you move here again?"

"Nature always called out to me." - He shrugs. - "And you, Y/N? What's your job and why did you come here?"

I purce my lips. - "Well, I'm a writer. I've written some stuff but nothing special, really. I wanted to write a horror book and came here to set the mood, ya know?"

"And how's that working out?" - He tilts his head.

I sigh. - "I'm having the worst writer's block I've ever had. Barely wrote a few pages."

"Let's see then." - He says, and I hesitantly agree. I grab my laptop and open the file, handing it to him.

I stand up and approach the fireplace, tending to it as he reads for a while.

"It's great." - He smiles and I look back at him.

"Is it?"

"A little complaint... You're trying too hard to explain all the details. Reading is all about letting people warp characters and places into whatever their mind makes up."

"...That makes a lot of sense, actually." - I sit back next to him. - "Can you help me?"

He eyes me and nods.

I don't know how much time passes, but we're now sitting on the floor and already have finished the second bottle of wine, now taking turns on taking a swing out of Nathan's flask. I've been taking notes, typing away furiously.

As I let out a deep breath, I look up from my laptop screen and the whole room starts spinning. I grunt and put the gadget away, placing my head in Nathan's lap. He chuckles and strokes my hair. - "Are you alright?"

"...A little tired. And dizzy." - I pout. Nathan just keeps smiling and sits me up again, making me look at him by taking my chin in-between his fingers.

I keep looking into his eyes and his smile never falters, only getting closer to my own lips. I instinctively close my eyes and part my lips a little, almost melting into Nathan's arms when they connect with his.

My heated cheeks heat up even more when he lays me down onto the soft, warm carpet and lets out a deep groan.

Then I can't even comprehend what happened, when I look to my side and see both mine and his clothes on the floor. Then I feel his erected cock, rubbing against me and realize I'm not wearing any underwear neither. I look back at him and pull him into a kiss again, moaning in delight. He then pushes it inside of me, spreading the walls to make more room for himself and and starts gently grinding it deeper out of me.

I lose track of time and what's happening again, and this time feel him mercilessly thrusting his hips against my ass, almost steaming air of heat spreading into the whole room while his rough fingers caress all the right spots. I let out moans and whimpers in-between my breaths, while he muffles his in my collarbone.

"Don't stop... Fuck, Nathan..." - I moan out his name and he looks up at me.

He then runs his fingers through my hair pulls my head back, giving me a view of the rest of the room, before he buries his face into my neck and leaves a trail of sloppy kisses.

I get closer to cumming, feeling myself spasm and squeeze around him, before I notice something in the windows. There are people outside my cabin... They're chanting something while drawing a symbol on the windows...

It's the same symbol as the one in my attic. I huff and try to stop Nathan but he can't even see my expression with his head buried into my neck. I shut my eyes and try my best not to cry... And soon enough, pass out.

[teecupangel]

sooo Desmond is an Irish name, so fae Desmond?? 👀 haven’t been able to get to my laptop to search your blog if you've already done this idea, but I thought I’d throw it out there anyway!

am a big fan of Weird fae, like when you look at them you think they should be human but something about them is so obviously not. uncanny valley with a side of fight-flight-or-freeze instincts kicking in just from being around them.

is this something something that comes from his parents? is it all Isu bullshit? is it something he changes into or is he born with it?? on that vein, what if he was a changeling child? lots of ways of incorporating the Isu and the calculations into that for sure

(am one of the anons who keeps coming back for renaissance baker Desmond, so thank you very much for answering those asks, and also for just being a rad individual in general. am still catching up on Eagle of Alamut, I think I’m around chapter 30, and absolutely LOVE what you've already done with it and where you’re taking it. my sib assures me Altaïr makes his appearance soon, and I'm GREATLY looking forward to it.

thanks again, I hope you're well 🧡) —bread anon

(Thank you! I try my best hahahaha. I am so sorry for being slow on asks and replies TTATT

I hope you’re enjoying the rest of Eagle of Alamut… especially Altaïr’s appearance hehehe)

Desmond Miles always knew he was different.

The other kids call him ‘ugly’ and they don’t like to play with him.

He had cried in his mother’s arms and told her what happened and she just… she looked somber.

She patted his head and held him close, comforted him with soft words and a warm hug.

Never once did she say anything about his face.

He was a little bit older when he realized why they think he was ugly.

There were no mirrors in their home.

Or even in the training building he spent most of his childhood in.

But there was a hand mirror in the infirmary.

Desmond never had a reason to go there. What he lacked in brute strength, he made up by being faster than anyone on the Farm.

He had went to the infirmary to take the first aid kit. One of the other kids had a painful gash on his arm. It wasn’t life-threatening but it needed to be cleaned and disinfected.

Desmond had been ordered to get the first aid.

He supposed it was because he had been the reason the boy had hurt himself, trying to run away from him like he was being chased by demons during a ‘game’ of tag.

They always run like they were scared for their lives when Desmond was ‘it’.

The doctor wasn’t inside so Desmond went towards the cupboard that would have the small boxes of first aids stacked on the bottom shelf.

He stopped when he noticed the hand mirror.

And saw his reflection for the first time.

Desmond Miles was not ugly.

But there was something in his features that made him seemed… strange.

It wasn’t anything that can be physically described about his facial structure.

He looked human but there was something in the human brain that just made it scream ‘danger’.

Desmond couldn’t explain it.

But he could see it.

He didn’t bring the first aid back to training.

He went home.

His mother was cooking something.

“What am I, mama?”

She didn’t seemed surprised by the question. She looked resigned.

She looked like she had been waiting for the day he would ask the very same question.

She led him to the dining room, letting whatever was on the stove continue to simmer in low heat.

“You’re my son, my dear little fairy.”

She didn’t held the same unnatural feel as he felt when he looked at his reflection.

But it didn’t sound like a lie.

Her hands trembled as she caressed his cheeks.

Her smile was genuine as she whispered, “You will always be my baby.”

But he could hear it.

The fear in the voice.

Whatever he was…

He was affecting her too.

Yet she didn’t try to run.

So he hugged her, pressing his face against her stomach.

Her trembling stopped and she held him like she was afraid he was going to disappear from her grasps.

She didn’t fear him if she didn’t see his face.

Whatever he was…

It was the face that scared all of them.

.

Once upon a time, a young woman married a young man by the orders of her father. The man loved her but she did not. No matter what she did, she could not. She tried to be the best wife she could be.

She did not love him but she bore him a son. A weak little thing, more fragile than glass and smaller than any other child in their little commune.

She loved her child more than anything in the world.

But the world did not.

The child died during one cold winter night while her husband had been away.

In her grief, she took the cold body of her dead child and ran towards the forest, as silent as she was taught by her own father.

She came across a circle of mushrooms.

And heard the whispers of the fairy queen when she stood in the circle of it.

The fairy queen will save her child.

But he will become one of them.

“Yes! I agree! Please, save him!” The mother begged on her knees.

The fairy queen did not do it out of the goodness of her heart.

She was one of three rulers of their little fairy kingdom, long destroyed by the wrath of the sun.

She was nothing more than a ghost, traveling to the far future.

The mother gave the corpse to the ghost.

And the ghost gave it new life.

The mother thanked her as she held the warm body of her son.

And the ghost disappeared.

The mushroom circle melted like metal.

And mother and child returned to their home.

.

Centuries ago, Minerva saw a future which the Assassins and Templars waste years fighting each other instead of finding a way to save the world.

She saw a future where Desmond Miles would die to save the world in their stead.

So she made a different choice.

There was no one to stop her.

Tinia had long given up, waiting for the end as he drinks and drinks and drinks.

Juno remains imprisoned in the Grand Temple.

She was the only one left.

She changed the trajectory of the Calculations to one where Desmond Miles died as a weak human baby.

She created a device and had it transported to where his mother would walk into in her grief, her mind weakened to the point of thinking of falling off the cliff nearby with her dead son in her arms.

It was a device she had created using Consus’ research.

Consus’ research cannot bring back the dead.

But with Minerva’s modification…

It could clone the dead.

But she didn’t clone the weak human baby that would die centuries from now.

She created a child made of Desmond Miles’ DNA from that tragic future.

And added her own DNA to reinforce his body and mind.

A new future the Calculations could not predict.

A new future where Desmond Miles is both human and not.

Minerva did not know if this would be a better future.

Still…

She does not regret it.

At the very least, before she died…

She was able to save someone.

[dummie-writes]

the party walkers

self insert .✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* school bus graveyard

words: 2.21k

next part: a rescue mission

note: hot minute, hey guys, this is my first time writing for school bus graveyard! currently, it's probably my favorite webtoon (that being said, all my other favorites are on hiatus, so, yk. that's that.) if you followed me for genshin one shots, I just wanna let you know I'm NOT gonna stop writing them, permanently at least. I haven't been able to fixate on genshin for a bit because the app is too big for my phone and trying to play on my computer kills me inside. hope you enjoy, also things prooobably aren't gonna be perfect, lol, I'm going off memory of the first chapter/s

content: self insert for sbc, uh, go read that first, I don't think I'll end up including anything (at least, not here) that needs extra trigger warnings. long term, it's a tyler x reader, maybe, idk, but regardless I don't plan on starting that for a bit.

i. a demon inside of my skin

you hadn't been in "the room where it happened", so to speak. actually, you didn't know what everyone else was dealing with for about a week after savannah, because you thought you were having batshit crazy nightmares! your hotel room was a good bit further away from everyone else's that first night, and after making a run for it into a room and barricading yourself in, you thought that would be the end of it. everyone did, didn't they?

and then, you went home. warm bed, soft blanket, box fan running in the background while you scrolled through various social media apps. it was nearing midnight, but that wasn't new for you. the early morning hours were your friend, the moon a sibling by your teenage years. not unique, sure, but that was the reality of that situation. a small shiver tickles your spine as you remember the night mare last night brought you, your fingertips ghosting the spot on your knuckle where you had banged it and broken your finger in that dream. it was even sore when you woke up. sometimes, nightmares were like that though. sometimes people woke up gasping for air after drowning in their sleep, or craving cigars after being a smoker in their dreams. sore knuckles weren't that far off.

it was like a flash; one moment, you were watching a college aged blonde talk about the type of oils she used for her long, silky, soft hair, and the next, the sky from out your window was a bleeding carmine. there was a loud silence, no wind, no rain, no box fan or phone.

then, again, you heard it. click, click, click. chatter, chatter, chatter. okay. cool. another nightmare. fun and fantastic.

shooting out of your sheets, your index finger throbbed, sparing a second and glancing at it revealed purple spots upon green bruises splotched along your hand. curling your finger inward hurt, but was possible. making a fist around your blanket, you threw it as hard as possible off of you, hoping to distract whatever was making the noise. it did not have the desired affect, and flew a couple feet before expanding and landing softly on the floor. that didn't matter, you were already on your feet and they were thudding to your door before you were aware of what was going on, scrambling on the carpet of your bedroom as you heard skitter like movements from where your eyes couldn't catch the gray, uncanny human-like figure making its way toward you on all fours. it was fast. way, way too fast. the undignified squeal you released as you yanked open your door turned into a gravelly scream of both terror and agony when you slid through, slamming the door shut before you, a blackened finger along with it. it didn't fall to the floor, but instead was hanging painfully out of your back, right under your shoulder blade. like a when a plank of wood splinters, but has enough fibers to hang off and out of the main piece and bobs back and forth. except you're not a piece of wood, and you have to not scream right now.

you feel nausea drinking its way into your chest, but adrenaline pushes it to a back burner as a need to survive pulses in your brain. grabbing a random shoe, a picture frame from off the wall, and a small ball which were left on the floor earlier, you throw them in another direction and hope it sounds enough like footsteps that when you get into the bathroom, whatever that thing is doesn't try to follow you in there.

the balls of your feet aren't much quieter than your whole foot, but they'll have to do as you nearly slam the bathroom door, stop yourself in the knick of time to edge it closed instead, and lock it. for the first time in your entire life, you internally thank your parents that you didn't get that house with the skylight in the bathroom.

now, you hold your breath. the creaking of the floors beneath your cheap carpet tells you that that thing, that monster, that whatever-it-is, is passing by. your fingers shake as you cover your mouth with one hand, the other cupping your nose as you try desperately to slow and quiet your breathing. unfortunately, the racing of your heart isn't helping, and neither is the recognition of that wound that craved up your back so nicely. again, your stomach turns. you don't have time to deal with that right now, even if you can feel blood dripping down your back and throbbing which matches your heartbeat.

click, click, thump, thump. the shadow from the light outside darkens, two fuzzy shadows before the door. silence. praying.

click, click. click. it slowly, slowly, drags its hideous feet away from the door.

you can't breathe for another minute, and the instant you do, it comes out as a heave. your eyes go wide as you scramble toward the bathtub, making it just in time to spill your guts. after emptying your stomach, you pull away with watery eyes and a raw throat, coughing a couple times. you feel a little bit better, as you usually do after throwing up, but that won't last. also, you need water, and that means looking in the mirror if you don't wanna be loud. but for right now, you just need to lay down for a moment. just breathe. you're so, so light headed. you had only just woken up, and this all felt so real. the pain in your hand and in your back. the scratchy stinging you feel up your esophagus. the exhaustion pawing under your eyes as you start to lean backward;

except, you can't, and when you try that, you only shoot straight up and nearly puke all over again. thankfully, this time, the finger actually falls out of your back.

"𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯."

you can reach the majority of the wound if you really reach. it won't be perfect, but you should be able to get it properly clean and bandaged with the first aid kit your family keeps in the bathroom. you don't really know how to clean a wound this big, though. will you need stitches? the only real way to know is to look at it, even if you aren't really ready to do so.

"𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘪𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭."

the thought came to you before you even moved from your spot on the floor. oh, yeah. that's right. you're asleep.

...

huh. most dreams feel a little more, don't know. dreamy?? if this is a dream, candy is going to start raining from the sky right now.

right now. here.

𝘯𝘰𝘸, you think, looking up at the ceiling half heartedly. alright, if this was a nightmare, it was a really weird horrible one. and also, you'd rather not push your luck at this point. so, mirror it is. ignoring the pit of panic welling in your chest, you push yourself to your feet, and tip toe to the kitchen sink. you stare at the faucet, and then force your eyes upward. your hair is frazzled, and there are white specks along the corners of your mouth. and then, you turn around. your jaw tightens when you see the open wound, your nightshirt torn open and revealing tattered, aggressive flesh beneath it. that thing probably cut you to the bone. hopefully, because there is in fact a bone there, it didn't hit any organs. you can breathe fine, so your lung didn't seem all too punctured. it's just ugly. ugly and painful.

cleaning it is the first step, and you're just thankful that despite the fact that you stupidly, stupidly, stupidly dumped isopropyl alcohol onto it in hopes of doing so (for a second, before the burning, you felt a little uncomfortable. and then it hit, you nearly cracked your tooth from biting down so hard), it's over with.

a week later, you find yourself in class, rubbing sleepiness from your eyes. so, long story short, that wasn't a dream, and something is horribly wrong. you waking up to a long scab running down your shoulder blade told you that much. and things were about to get a lot worse. in the real world, that is.

"sir, please. they do literally nothing. they just sit there all spaced out, rubbing their eyes. it's like they aren't even trying for this project!" brandy, your classmate begs in a hushed tone. as annoying as the brunette could be at times, she wasn't wrong. a pang in your chest as you think of possibly making it so that the other members of your group protect fail because you are too tired to do your part. god, sorry brenda, you're too busy trying to huddle up in a bathroom all night and take care of a wound that isn't healing for some reason, all while praying that the thing that chased you in there and will probably kill you, doesn't murder you. but she's still not wrong. and it isn't like she knows that, because you have something seriously wrong with you. it's not her fault, and she shouldn't have to pay for you being crazy.

"mr. thomas," you quietly call, rubbing your elbow uncomfortably as you stare at the floor. you can see brandy pause from the corner of your eye, and you think there's even a sorry expression on her face. even if she was annoying, she clearly hadn't thought you heard that. and she had a right to be upset.

"I would like to change groups, if, um, possible."

there's a pause, and from your peripheral view, you can see your teacher and classmate motioning at each other, her probably trying to convince him to let you do so. a small thump, and then a sigh. "alright. I'm going to put you with ashlyn's group. "

as a redhead from across the room pops up and looks around, mr. thomas looks through a few pieces of paper, crossing something off with his pen. he didn't say it out loud, and frankly, he didn't have to. that was the group in the class that was also failing, so, you being in it wouldn't have much of an impact anyway. at least you wouldn't sink the whole ship all by yourself. was it smart, as a teacher? no. he probably should have put you with a tutor or something. looking up at mr. thomas as you nod and collect your things from your desk reveals an, in fact, apologetic eyed brandy. she mouths a "thank you", and you nod in return. you would drag your chair to their little group later, first, you should go introduce yourself, and hope they don't kick you out.

the bright blonde of the group catches you with his eyes before anyone else. you can hear him say something, and the rest of them stop talking and turn to look at you as you awkwardly walk over. their eyes are so piercing, it's making you uncomfortable.

"can we help you?" a brunette asks, tilting her head up to look at you. her tone carries no malice, just curiosity. makes you feel a little bit better.

"I'm so sorry to ask this, if you guys don't want me in your project I'll go ask if I can be alone or join another group or something, it's not a big deal. I'm having issues with my part of the project, and it's affecting everyone else's work in my group. so they were wondering if I could join in with you guys."

they all share a really weird look with each other, like they're talking telepathically or something. a tense moment passes, and two members speak up at the same time.

"yeah sure lol."

"fuck no."

"tyler! be nice! besides, we probably need someone who actually knows what's going on in this class!"

"didn't she just say she was having issues with her work? it's not like she's going to add much."

"to be fair, I don't think any of us are doing all too great on the work anyway."

you feel the need to clarify, mainly to get this over with. "I'm not really having trouble with the work. I'm just not doing it. I'm having sleeping issues, again, not a big deal if you don't want me to join."

they all stop, and look at you again. the redheaded one narrows her eyes, letting the braid she was messing with fall to her lap. her and the boy next to the brunette girl who asked you a question - actually, now that you're up close and looking at him, that looks like one of the boys on the baseball team. didn't she call him tyler? like tyler hernandez? huh. you didn't even realize you guys shared this class.

"what kind of nightmares have you been having?" the blonde asks, looking at who you're starting to assume is ashlyn. they have a staring contest of sorts while you start to answer. "oh, just weird ones. like, ones with monsters... and stuff..."

you didn't say anything about nightmares.

he looks at you again, a cat like grin on his face. "I think you should sit down. "

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

next part: a rescue mission

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance link to all chapters link to ao3

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Three

Satoru Gojo

——————————————————————————————————

Satoru hadn’t expected to take an interest in the young girl. He had to admit that her cursed ability would prove useful at Jujutsu High with a bit of honing. Though from what little interaction he had with her he had discerned that Iyashi was mouthy, strong willed, and ultimately had the capacity to be a rather huge pain in the ass.

With all of that he didn’t seem to mind overtly, even as he jumped from building to building to watch her on the streets below. It had been two days since he had propositioned her. He should have known better than to think that she would immediately take the job but he hadn’t counted she would take this long. 

Her skirt flared in the wind slightly as she hustled through the crowd, the sun had begun to sink into the horizon and the cold bit through his bones. He watched her wrap the coat tightly around her torso as she stopped periodically at various stores. 

Iyashi was a creature of habit, each day she would wake and begin her job search. Trekking from business to business and interview to interview. Even Satoru found it exhausting, he could only imagine the mental toll it took as the refusals flooded in. 

He found himself feeling a twinge of remorse at that. He had stopped at every store Iyashi had entered and convinced them through various means to not hire her - ranging from her being his scary ex who would stalk male customers to the honest truth being that she wasn’t available for their position. It depended on what mood he was in when he entered the shop. 

He reasoned if she ever found out about this she would likely attempt to physically fight him. 

That thought brought a smile to his face. 

The dark hugged the ground as Satoru leaned against the building, watching as Iyashi returned to her apartment - notably deflated. He waited for the inevitable as she grabbed the piece of paper from the door. She paused for a moment to read and then ripped it in half. 

She entered the apartment in a fury, he could hear the sounds of boxes being assembled and items being thrown. It took all but twenty minutes before Satoru’s phone rang. 

“Is that a yes?” he could nearly taste the sweetness of his tone. 

A huff could be heard on the other end with a small pause before Iyashi replied, “Listen. The room and board better be nice, Gojo.”

He smiled at her tone, she didn’t sound nearly as angry as he thought she looked moments ago. 

“Only the best for you, Iyashi.” Satoru began to walk towards her door.

“I deserve a nice bonus for you stalking me, too.” She said with a touch of a tease to her tone.

This came as a pleasant surprise, he had only heard her frustration with him. He found his thoughts traveling to what other sounds he could pull from her.

He feigned offense, “I didn’t stalk you. If anything, you followed me. I’m not unfamiliar with fans.”

“Whatever.” A breathy laugh came through the speaker. 

Satoru paused and soaked that in before responding, “Need help with your boxes?”

He reached his hand up and knocked three times on the door, excitement brimming underneath at the prospect of what kind of reaction she would have this time.

He found that he enjoyed riling Iyashi, it was a great deal more fun than he cared to admit out loud. 

She whipped the door open, her stance wide with one hand on her hip. Her brows were furrowed and she bit her lower lip. Satoru lingered on the bite for a second before looking into her eyes, he sported his glasses instead of the blindfold hoping to catch her a bit off guard.

He noticed her falter as she took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before finally saying, “Stalking, Gojo. It’s a crime.”

——————————————————————————————————

Satoru propped his feet up on the desk, leaning back into his chair as his students talked idly in the classroom about what classified a curse.

The echo of angry footsteps approaching the door caused him to turn slowly towards the sound. He had guessed by now that Iyashi had figured out who she was an assistant for. He had been shocked she hadn’t asked in the last three days. 

He found great amusement in her surprise. 

Slamming the door open with a striking thwack, the students startled at their desks.

“Iyashi-senpai? Is that you?” shouted Yuji with excitement, nearly falling from his chair. 

“You bastard!” yelled Iyashi as she stomped forward, using her hands to swipe Satoru’s legs from the desk forcing him to sit upright. 

Satoru smirked slightly before whispering, “Am I in trouble, sensei?” 

Her eyes glinted with amusement for a second before it was replaced with anger. She leaned down and grabbed his chair, pulling it towards her. With her other hand, Iyashi grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him slightly upwards. His face angled up towards her, his eyes boring into hers. 

“Listen up, pretty boy. I’m not your maid. I’m not your slave.” Her breath smelled slightly of mint and nectarines, Satoru had to refrain from inhaling. He watched her soft lips as she continued to chastise him, finally refocusing his attention on her words.

“Do you understand?” She said with a huff, roughly yanking him. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied with a smile.

Iyashi let go of Satoru, he settled back into the chair and watched her walk back to the exit.

“A big bonus, Gojo.” She said over her shoulder before slamming the door.

——————————————————————————————————

Note to reader: this is the second half of chapter two, labeled chapter three.

——————————————————————————————————

chapter four

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 4

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! sheltered! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, stalking/possessive themes, profanity, coercion, chokehold, pet names (kitten), gaslighting, manipulation, manhandling, parental abuse (verbal & physical), physical assault (jus a wee bit gruesome), mentions of blood, size kink, begging, hyperventilation/panic attack, lots of toxic 'couple' arguing, sexual assault, psychotic break, downplaying trauma (kinda)

word count/plot: [8.6k] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: hiii a lot of you have prolly been looking forward to this happening so it here it is (this'll make sense after u read it) but basically shii goes down (when does it not). Anyway there were multiple times where I personally wanted to throw a boulder at Gojo bc he pisses me off LMAO and yet I still write him the way I do (smh). Anyway ik this chapter is short compared to the others so don't b upset :,) hopefully the next chapter (whenever I finish writing it) is longer. enjoyy..

ch. 1 , ch. 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , ch. 3 , chapter 4 , ch. 5 [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 ]

Everyone knew they were together now. It didn’t even take a day for news to hit the school like wildfire. She hated it—every fucking second of it because people looked at her so much more now. Not only boys but girls.

She hated the way girls looked at her. As if she were so fucking lucky whenever Gojo walked beside her in the halls. Then there were the other girls-like half of the cheerleading squad-who eyed her like she was a dead rat walking.

She supposed she couldn’t blame them-they we’re all Karina’s lackeys in a sense. And Karina was delusionally infatuated with Gojo in every sense of the word-and, unfortunately for her, everyone knew it.

Everyone also knew that Karina was a bitch. Ara had expected some sort of reaction from her but-to her surprise (and great relief)-the other girl didn’t even look at her. Even when her girlfriends were around and would purposely give her the stankest looks known to mankind whenever she passed-Karina never spared her glance.

And Ara wanted to know why.

Ara didn’t know much about her and Gojo’s relationship, other than it had been more of a friends with benefits thing. But from what Millie told her eons ago-she faintly remembered it being an on and off thing that lasted a while.

She technically could ask Millie for more details, but she knew it would get back to Gojo and the last thing she wanted was him knowing that she was snooping around in his past. It would bother her for two reasons. One, it was sure to bring him an uncanny amount of joy that she was even curious and secondly, she wasn’t doing it because she was ‘jealous’ or whatever he would think.

She was doing it to see how he treated her. Shoko had said that Gojo didn’t date before her but she had no idea how he’d treated girls in the past-if it was anything like how he treated her then maybe.. maybe they could help each other. 

She knew it was a big reach—a risk even. It meant disregarding the rumors of Karina being obsessed with him, but Ara took rumors with a grain of salt anyway. Besides, if there was anything she knew about Gojo, she knew he could manipulate anything. He could manipulate a rock if he wanted to.

Ara just needed the chance to speak to her alone-to encourage some honesty-and the perfect opportunity presented itself just now.

She closed her gym locker and swung her bag over her shoulder. She turned around-intending to head out the locker room only to freeze when she heard another locker door shut close not too far away.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw it was Karina-none of her other friends with her. Ara slowly scanned the rest of the locker room, it seemed they were the last ones here.

Ara slowly approached her, gripping the strap of her tote bag nervously.

She cleared her throat, “Hi.”

Karina glanced towards her, immediately double-taking when she saw her.

Karina was undoubtedly pretty-it was obvious in every aspect of her. Her posture, her voice, her style. They all wore uniforms but bags were all up to the student's discretion-and she always had the latest designer purse on her shoulder and a fresh face of makeup on every morning.

The girl had recently dyed her hair dark. Ara could only speculate why because her loosely waved, light blonde hair was rather iconic but-after an up-close view, Ara decided she liked the black hair better.

Karina’s brown eyes widened, “H-hi.”

Ara immediately felt a bit better-at not having gotten completely ignored-but quickly gathered herself, “Ah, um-I know this is a bit out of the blue but I.. could you tell me how Gojo was like when he was with you?”

She saw something flash through her eyes, “Did he talk about me?”

“No.”

Katrina blinked, “Did he cheat?”

Ara’s brows furrowed, “No..”

Karina stared at her for a long moment, “You're just asking.. just to ask?”

Ara shifted slightly-trying to get a read on the girl but her poker face was pretty good, “I just-I wanted to know if he..” she had no idea how to phrase herself discreetly, “-he treated you well.”

“Treated me well?” Karina repeated.

Ara suddenly regretted speaking to her. The girl was good at deflecting her questions. She couldn’t pinpoint if she was deferring her questions because she wanted her to bring up his psychotic behavior first or if it was because he hadn’t done anything to her.

She decided her next question would clarify-

“If he let you date him, would you still date him?” 

Karina flushed, her mouth partially opening and closing multiple times-as if unsure how to answer.

Suddenly the locker room door swung open and both girls glanced over. It was her friends-and they looked just as astonished to see them interacting.

The other girls quickly crowded them, indiscreetly trying to communicate with Karina with their eyes.

Karina fumbled with her words, “Um-how about we talk about this at my spot tonight? Just come to my party.”

She saw one of her cheer friends turn to look at Karina in shock.

Ara hesitated, “Um..”

Karina snapped her fingers, “Your friends with Millie right? She’s invited, just come with her. See you!”

She watched as Karina waved her fingers, dismissing her. Ara paused, before deciding to play into whatever front she was putting up-if it even was a front.

Ara slowly stepped back, “Sure..”

She readjusted her bag over shoulder before heading out the locker room—feeling all the girls' eyes on her back like lasers.

Ara walked out of her last class of the day. The second she stepped out the door, she flinched when she saw Gojo waiting outside with his arms crossed.

She continued walking and he easily stepped into stride with her.

“Araa,” his tone whiny, “You should at least greet me with a kiss or hug.”

“You had both this morning.”

He smirked, “True,”

He threw his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to nuzzle his face into her cheek, “But that was this morning.”

He kissed her cheek, “You got anythin’ to tell me?”

She tensed slightly, “Like?”

She felt him grin against her cheek, “Like you talked to Karina, and she invited you to her party.”

Fuckin’ hell—she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for one second?

“Why’d you talk to her?” She could hear the undercurrent of amusement in his tone.

“Is there something wrong with me talking to her?” she quickly deflected.

He shrugged, “Not really. You jus forgot to tell her your not goin’-she’s tellin’ everyone you're comin’ to her party.”

“I’m not?”

She felt him glance down at her, “Of course you're not.”

She didn’t dare meet his eyes, “I kinda wanted to go with Millie.”

He dropped his arm from around her shoulder, ‘tsk’-ing her, “That’s not how it works, sweets.”

She finally glanced up at him. They stood outside the school’s main entrance, which was a little ways away from where the buses were parked.

“We go to parties together or no one goes.” He tilted his head, “I have practice late tonight, remember?”

She hadn’t forgotten. She hadn’t forgotten about his little rule regarding parties either-not after he stated it in front of all his friends at Shoko’s party that one night. She never planned to drink again after that.

He ruffled her hair, “I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

She swallowed—trying to keep her voice as innocent as possible, “I really can’t go with my friend?”

His blue eyes widened imperceptibly. She couldn’t tell if he was shocked by her pushback or by her even expressing a morsel of interest in a party-she hoped it was the latter.

He scanned her face expressionlessly, “That’s correct.” There was no humor in his tone.

She hated the feeling that settled in her gut. It was the same thing she felt whenever she asked her father for things and he’d say no. Except it wouldn’t always ever just be a ‘no’-it would be worse, depending on his mood.

It didn’t matter how simple or burden free the request was. If it wasn’t related to school, he didn’t want to hear it. So she stopped asking. She barely asked him for things-unless it was necessity or school related.

And this, this was no different. She was asking for permission and something about that left an incredibly bitter taste in her mouth.

So much so, she couldn’t keep the lighthearted tone she intended, “It’s just a party.” she bit out.

His crystalline eyes sharpened imperceptibly, “I’m aware.” his tone was oddly light, before taking a step towards her.

She immediately stepped back-her growing fear twisting into anger as she spit, “Can’t you trust Millie to stalk me in your place?”

He took another step towards her, this time his tone crisp, “You’re not going.”

Her response died on her tongue when she saw the buses beginning to depart behind him. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him she had to go, his hand clasped around her throat-forcing her eyes to him.

“Did you hear me?” his tone completely deadpan. He tilted his head, “You’re not going.”

She gasped, staring between his bright eyes before grasping his wrist at her throat, “I-I have to go, the buses are-“

His fingers twitched around her throat-he leaned closer to her, “You’re not going.”

He stared intently into her wide eyes, “Do you understand?”

She swallowed before nodding.

He slowly looked her up and down, “I want to hear you say it.”

Her voice came out shaky, “I-I won’t go…Toru.”

He loved that stupid nickname ever since she said it when she was drunk. She hoped it’d make him let her go, she truly couldn’t miss the bus. 

He was quiet for what felt like a long moment before a slight chuckle escaped him.

He released her neck, “I’ll see you at home, kitten.”

She touched her neck the second he let go. Merely nodding in response before running towards her bus.

She stared at the clothes she laid out on her bed. It was a simple brown zip up hoodie and boyfriend jeans. It wasn’t your typical party attire but she could care less about that. She was only going for information, not for a good time.

She already told Millie that she wasn’t going only so Gojo didn’t find out—since she apparently reported everything little thing to him for no fucking reason. But it didn’t matter, because Millie already sent her Karina’s address earlier.

She’d call a taxi service, that way she could use her spare cash. She couldn’t call an uber because her Dad would see it on her bank statement. God knows how he would react to that.

She glanced at the digital clock on her desk. 8:39 pm.

Gojo didn’t get back from basketball practice till 10 pm. An hour was all she needed. Just in and out of Karina’s place.

Her Dad already thought she was asleep. She’d also stuffed extra clothes underneath her blanket in a human-ish shape to make it look as if she were sleeping there in case he checked.

Everything should be fine. Her hands unclenched and clenched into a fist repeatedly. Everything’s fine.

She couldn’t help but feel nervy. The last time she snuck out by herself was in middle school and her Dad had given her a black eye.

She prayed this was worth it. She couldn’t help but question it-Karina didn’t look like Gojo did anything to her, but how does anyone look like they’ve been assaulted?

She herself had never seen Gojo and Karina talk before so she could only hope that the rumors surrounding Karina being infatuated with him were false. Possibly fabricated by Gojo to keep himself in the clear. Maybe he had something on her to blackmail her with in case she tried to snitch.

She raked a hand through her hair, unease swirling in her gut. She needed to calm down. If her thoughts didn’t slow down she was bound to hyperventilate.

She exhaled shakily. Just wash your face, change and call the driving service.

She opened her eyes and went to the attached bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and immediately felt better. She patted her face with a towel while walking back into her room.

The towel immediately slipped from her fingers onto the floor.

Gojo stood in her room, his back to her. His hand hovered over her clothes on the bed before shoving them all to the floor. She flinched.

He turned around-revealing the front of his built stature in the black compression t-shirt he wore. His platinum hair was stringy-damp, as if he’d just showered.

The second his diamond blue eyes met hers, fear charged every atom in the air. She stopped breathing.

“Why’d you take these clothes out, Ara?”

She stared at his expressionless face, unable to come up with a single word. The silence felt so loud.

Suddenly, he was laughing-his laugh was nowhere near kind. The room felt colder. She wished he would stop.

He rubbed his chin, “I couldn’t stop thinking of it, y’know. The face you made when I said you couldn’t go-“

He chuckled once more, “I kept thinking about it all practice, but she wouldn’t lie to me—you’d never lie to me, right Ara?”

She was speechless.

He shook his head, smiling sardonically to himself, “I thought I was goin’ crazy. I told Coach I had to leave for a family emergency—family emergency.”

He was full-on laughing now, maniacally.

She covered her mouth with her hand, “Stop, Gojo, stop-“

“I should stop?” he snapped, completely deadpan, “You fuckin’ lied to me.”

He took a step towards her and her hand immediately flew up between them.

“Don’t come near me.” she instinctively demanded.

His eyes lit up, “What’re you gonna do, stop me?”

Her heart rate went up when he took another step towards her. She immediately scurried back.

“It’s just a party.”

“I don’t care.” He didn’t stop moving towards her.

Her fear-stricken mind came up with something-to gaslight him, “Why are you being like this? Is it because of Karina?”

That made him stop-confusion flickering within his eyes.

She immediately continued, “You still care about her don’t you? That’s why you don’t want us to meet.” She slowly moved around the room, keeping her back to the wall as she subtly headed towards her nightstand.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Karina.” he spit out.

The first drawer of her nightstand had a flashlight, maybe she could use it to hit him.

“Y-you’re lying.”

Suddenly she froze, realizing she was cornered. She couldn’t make it to her nightstand without crossing him.

No. no. no.

He stepped towards her, only an arms length away.

He tilted his head, “I’m not a liar. You are. You lied to me.”

She froze, holding eye contact with him for a moment before darting past him to her bed. She scurried atop it, her fingers clasping around the nightstand drawer handle only for her leg to suddenly get dragged.

She was dragged further onto the bed and flipped over. Just as a scream ripped from her throat, a firm hand cupped her mouth. He was over her, an untamed glint to his azure eyes.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, “You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.” she cried quietly into his hand.

His hand over her mouth tightened. His eyes blazing, “I am. For you-I am.”

He pressed his forehead against her temple, forcing her face aside into the bed. His voice ragged, “You make me like this.”

Suddenly the doorknob rattled and he disappeared from atop her.

Her eyes widened as she shot up on the bed. The door swung open a second after Gojo stood behind it-the door keeping him hidden.

Her father stood in the doorway. She didn’t have to look at him too long to know he was mad.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Her hands trembled as she fisted the bedsheets. Her voice wavered, “Baba?”

He walked further into the room, holding up a partly crumpled piece of paper-due to how tightly he was holding it.

“Why the hell did I get an email with this picture?”

He threw the paper at her-making her flinch. She picked up the paper from the bed with shaky hands. The paper was a printout of an email. The email account it was sent from looked like a spam one-with more numbers than letters-but it showcased a big picture of an assignment she got an ‘89’ on.

It was the lowest score she’d ever received in her life and it happened on an assignment she did last week. She thought she had gotten away with it-

“EIGHTY NINE?!!!” her father yelled.

She flinched, immediately crying, “I’m sorry, Baba. I’m sorry. It won’t happen aga-“

“Again? Why would it happen again?!” his voice suddenly rose, “I DIDN'T RAISE YOU TO BE A DUMB LIL BITCH LIKE YOUR MOTHER!!!!”

Suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and pulled his hand back to slap her. She felt the heat of his palm a hair’s breadth away from her cheek.

She squeezed her eyes shut, readying herself for impact only for her father’s hand in her hair to disappear. A loud crash ensued.

She gasped, eyes flashing open to see her Father on the floor. His eyes wide in shock as Gojo stepped over him.

Before her Father could even speak, Gojo sat over him and his hands didn’t stop. Blood splattered across the floor.

“GOJO!!” she screamed, as deafening sounds of brutality ensued. She stumbled up to her feet-her body felt like it was made of jelly with how unbalanced she was.

His hands moved so fast she couldn’t even see them, they were simply a blur of red over her Father’s face. The gruesome sound of bone cracking echoed within the room.

She couldn’t hear her own voice as she screamed, “GOJO, STOP!!!!! STOP-STOP!!!!!!!”

He didn’t stop.

She jumped onto his back-sobbing. Her arms slid around his shoulders, trying to hold him back but he was so strong. Her frail arms did nothing. Instead her small body shook with each lethal blow he unleashed on her Father's beaten body.

“SATORU!! STOP! STOPPPP, GOJO-STOP!” she cried in his ear, gripping his shoulders tight as she screamed- “IF YOU LOVE ME, YOU’LL STOP!!!”

Suddenly, his body went still—eerily still. She felt the muscles in his body tense in her hold. All the forcefulness running rampant within him coming to a complete halt.

She felt him lean into her slightly, his breaths shallow as he looked down. He looked down at her shaky arms around him. He reached up slightly to touch her-his fingers barely skimming her forearm when she wrenched herself away.

His hand was wet.

She stared at her forearm in horror. There was a streak of blood. Her Father’s blood.

She shoved Gojo, too panicked to care. “Get off him! Get off-“

He complied, standing up smoothly with his hands cradled to his chest. They were covered in blood.

She gaped the second she saw her Father. His face was covered with shiny, deep-red blood, the white of his half-open eyes the only other color. His forehead and cheeks swollen with welts. His nose was indistinguishable-a complete bloodied mush that continuously poured more and more red. His jaw hung open at an awkward angle.

She screamed, scrambling off her Father’s body while covering her mouth.

“WHAT DID YOU DO-Wh-what did you.. do..” she broke down-sobbing-before crawling to her Father’s side.

She didn’t care about the blood getting all over her as she hyperventilated. She pushed wildly at her Father’s limp chest—“BABA!! Baba-“ she sobbed, “Baba, wake up. WAKE UP!!”

“He’s not dead.”

She froze. Gojo’s eerily calm voice was the equivalent of dumping a bucket of ice-water over her.

She immediately stood up, facing him. Her gaze didn’t waver as she slowly walked up to him. He was emotionless, his bright blue eyes never leaving her.

She shoved him, he didn’t budge.

“Why did you do that.” she asked, completely deadpan.

He didn’t answer.

She shoved his chest again, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT!”

This time she didn’t stop-her small fists hitting his chest erratically while he stood completely still. Her hits had no coordination, no impact on him. She sobbed through gritted teeth.

“Enough.”

He grabbed her elbows, his fingers digging deep enough to hurt. She flinched, only to yelp and fall to her knees when she saw his hands.

They were drenched in blood-upto his elbows. They dripped at his sides as she hunched over before him, breathing unevenly.

“I’ll handle this.” his voice was faint to her ears.

He dialed a number.

Ara stared outside the wide glass windows. She could see so much of Los Angeles from here. The world looked so big. People looked like tiny dots moving below.

Her gaze flickered to the window's reflection, noticing the nurse leave.

She turned around and faced the vast executive suite. She didn’t even know hospitals had luxe suites. This room was on one of the top floors of the building as well—which made the window-side view all the more daunting.

She walked over to her father’s bedside. His face was covered in bandages as he lay eerily still. He would survive, that was all that mattered-and he’d never have to worry about a single thing.

Gojo made sure of that.

The alibi was that a robber came through her bedroom window and she’d yelled for her Father-who immediately went to her room to deal with the intruder but got beat instead. And Gojo happened to be the young billionaire scion driving by who’d overheard her screams and ran in to help. The robber-conveniently-being gone by the time he got there.

And-of course-Gojo being the kind soul he was, immediately got her father transferred to the most renowned hospital in California. She was pretty sure Kim Kardashian gave birth to one of her children here.

The alibi was well fleshed out but she couldn’t help but question if her father would remember something. Gojo-kindly-reminded her that even if he did remember, it wouldn't make a difference because by the time he woke up the case would be closed. Two uninjured witness statements would be considered more viable than his injury muddled recollection of the incident anyway, if he were to report it—according to Gojo.

She hadn’t even been concerned about her Dad reporting any discrepancy in his memory anyway, but the fact that Gojo brought that up first only made her more aware of how well versed Gojo was in law enforcement proceedings. She didn’t even want to know how or why—All she knew was that his efficiency with this matter revealed how he wasn’t a novice to these kinds of things.

She didn’t want to think about what else he’d gotten swept under the rug.

She stared at her Dad’s limp hand—merely grateful he was alive. The doctors had realigned his jaw and saved as much of his nose as they could. The welts and bruising along his face would go away with time.

There was a chance her Dad’s mobility could get affected by the brain injury that had incurred. The surgery had gone well so the chance of permanent damage was low but if he hadn't gotten the high quality care at the speed he had, his chances would've been very different.

Her Mom still hadn’t answered any of her calls. She supposed that was expected.

She reached out, her fingers shaky as she contemplated holding her father’s hand for a moment.

But image after image of those same hands hurting her flitted through her mind. The impact that single part of his body had on her mental health, confidence and life… It made her want to cry.

She withdrew her hand, blinking rigorously before walking out into the hallway that led into a wide ceiling, hotel-like common room. It was so silent-the only sound being the hum of her father’s patient monitor. Gojo had booked out the entire floor.

She walked towards a set of double doors and pushed them open. Gojo sat in the modernly furnished room, hunched against the couch as he faced the TV-despite it being off. He had enough decency to let her be alone with her Father it seemed.

His blue eyes flickered towards her when she entered. He leaned forward in his seat-posture still slumped as he raked a hand through his platinum hair. They’d been at the hospital all night and this was the first she’d spoken to him since her Father’s operation a few hours ago.

She didn’t even know what to think when she looked at him.

He looked up at her, something in his turquoise eyes seemed to waver, “I’m sorry.”

She froze in her stance, “..What?”

He spoke a bit fast, “I-I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know your Dad was like that-Millie told me he was strict about your grades so I jus thought he’d ground you or some shit-”

She blinked, an undercurrent of agitation in her voice, “What are you talking about?”

“—You never told me. If you told me he was like that..“ he drifted off before shaking his head subtly.

Her brows furrowed, “You would’ve what? What, huh?”

He was silent, his countenance somewhat conflicted.

“Killed him?” she mocked.

His bright eyes met her in an instant, “If you let me, yes.”

She stared at him-completely stupefied. He hadn’t hesitated for a second.

She scowled, “How can you even say that? That’s my father-my father!”

He stood up-a crazed quality to his eyes as he spoke, “You didn’t see your face, Ara. You looked so..“ his eyes drifted off elsewhere, as if envisioning it, “..so scared. And he was jus being so fuckin’ rude to you-I couldn’t jus—I had to—“

She stared at him in complete disbelief-unable to keep the anger from her tone, “You didn’t have to do anything!”

He stepped towards her, “I did it for you. I told you-all of your problems are mine.”

Tears swam in her eyes, “No they aren’t, Gojo! They aren’t.”

“They are,” he insisted.

She stepped back-voice shaky, “I would never want you to kill my father.”

“You’ve thought about it though, haven’t you? Even in passing-you’ve had to, at least once-“

“No,” she whispered.

“How much easier life would be if he was just dead.”

“NO!” her shaky hands were fists at her sides.

He laughed dryly, plopping back down onto the couch, “It’s okay, Ara. It’s okay to think those things...”

He lay his head back on the couch's headrest, “I already told you, there’s no line I won’t cross. Jus say the word and he won’t be an issue again.”

Her eyes widened in horror.

He lifted his head to peek at her before sighing, ”Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that. You want him gone. Admit it.”

“I don’t.” she gritted out.

“I know you.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Suddenly he was out of his seat, walking towards her. He was so fast she barely had time to move backwards. Her back hit the wall and she gasped–fear rendering her frozen when she realized she was cornered.

His hand slipped around her throat as he spoke-his voice barely above a whisper, “I do know you, Ara. I’m the only one who knows you.”

She felt tears touch her eyes. Her throat tightened underneath his fingers, swallowing down the low sob that threatened to spill past her lips. 

His thumb caressed her racing pulse before slowly lowering his hand. His fingertips skimmed over her collarbones as he rested his palm atop her chest. His hand felt cold against her skin.

His voice was soft, “Why are you protecting him?”

She closed her eyes, inadvertently holding her breath. His palm pressed further into her chest–making her erratic heartbeat pump faster.

“And don’t say cuz he’s your Dad,” he spat, “He still hurt you.”

She flinched.

She felt his hair tickle her forehead. He was closer now. The air felt more weighted.

“Do you love him?” he asked, ever so quietly.

The question felt like a punch to her gut. Did she love him? She didn’t know. She never thought about it before. All she knew was one thing…

Her eyes fluttered open, finally looking at him. He was so close—too close.

“I-I don’t want him to die.” she choked out.

His sky-blue eyes slowly ran down her face, taking in her every feature. His eyes latched onto the tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye.

He cupped her face, “Relax, kitten. I’m not gonna kill him.”

She was trembling so bad, she didn’t know how to stop. He stroked the sides of her face lovingly.

“I know I almost did but I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped.”

She bit her lower lip, trying to contain the urge to cry. He drew her close, pulling her into a hug–trying to quell her trembling.

His hands ran through her hair comfortingly, “I still don’t regret hitting him.”

She was too caught up in her emotions to fully register his words.

He continued stroking her back, “Only thing I regret is sending the email.”

She froze.

He drew her closer against his chest, “I only meant to stall you. I figured you might try—“

She tried to shove herself out of his grasp, “YOU sent that email?!”

His grip around her didn’t budge, “Ara-"

She miraculously managed to slip out of his grasp. 

She shoved him back-simultaneously staggering backwards as she did so, “What the FUCK is wrong with you?”

His eyes never left hers, “I didn’t know your Dad-“

“You think that makes it any better?!” she shouted in disbelief-too angry to think. Her Dad would’ve been completely uninvolved and unharmed if he hadn’t sent that stupid email. “Why do you always have to take things so far?”

His brows furrowed-tone crisp, “Because you don’t listen to me.”

“So?” she spat, “So?”

At his silence, she continued-her voice gradually rising, “Am I not allowed to disagree with you? Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? Am I not a human being?!”

His eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t stop—all of her frustration was pouring out now.

“I’m tired. I’m sick and goddamn tired of people trying to tell me what I can and can’t do and I’m sick of getting hurt everytime. Everyone I know hurts me. Everyone!”

“I don’t hurt you.”

She stared at him before a soft, delirious, laugh slipped past her lips, “Are you kidding?”

He stared at her, expressionless.

“You don’t think you hurt me?” she questioned.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Not in the way your Dad has.”

Her eyes widened, “No, but you do worse! Your always with me-you try to control me a-and y-you touch me-“

His blue eyes flashed with something indescribable, yet his tone remained calm, “You like it when I touch you.”

“No!” she yelled, “No, I don’t. I cry every time we fuck, Gojo-how is that normal?”

The corner of his lip tugged upward, “That’s cuz you're still not used to my size.”

She stared at him in shock-filled contempt, “You're insane.”

He waved his hand in the air, “Normal. Insane. You keep throwing these words around—who gives a shit?”

“I GIVE A SHIT,” she yelled, “I GIVE A SHIT BECAUSE ITS AFFECTING ME!”

Suddenly he was right in front of her-his hands grabbing her throat—forcing her to look up at him.

“Well-maybe-if you wanted something normal so damn bad you should’ve answered me the first time I talked to you. I would’ve given you flowers, dates—the whole charade. I can still do the same, but it’s not the same now—is it?”

She was too angry to be scared. She stared up at him with so much anger as she spit back, “I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to. Don’t you get it?!”

She grabbed his hands at her throat, “I never wanted you.”

She watched his intricate eyes widen and she swore she saw her life flash before her eyes. But instead his eyes softened—his white lashes fluttering open and close before the crease between his brow deepened.

His fingers around her throat tightened, “You need me.” he whispered, and something about his whisper scared her more than her Father’s yelling ever did.

She fought to keep her voice even, “W-we never should’ve started, Satoru.”

He was frozen, as if stricken. Something in his light blue eyes seemed to fade as his expression darkened, “I don’t believe that.”

She ignored the chill that went down her spine at his words. She grabbed his wrists, attempting to pry his hands off her.

“Believe it.” she spat-channeling all her anger to keep the blaring alarms of fear and crawling paranoia at bay. Her voice was tight with venom as she spoke, “We’re over.”

Suddenly his eyes sharpened-any conflict or barely restrained anger slipping off of his face in an instant. His gaze was so sharp-so magnetic-she felt like he was harming her despite not feeling a thing.

His fingers around her throat were loose and his posture was lax-he was merely standing over her, looking down to face her. Nothing was technically off, but she knew what she felt.

She knew what strength he had stored within every part of his tall frame. How each limb of his body didn’t lack the uncanny amount of solidity he had. She felt it every time she was with him, whenever she spoke a bit too honestly—whenever she dodged his touch—how easily the mood could shift because of her shortcomings. How easily the invisible lines could be crossed.

It was like a mouse in a trap—squealing wildly against its restraints, beady eyes staring helplessly at its captor.

Except her captor didn’t want to kill her.

He tilted his head, “We’re over?”

She was so still, she wasn't sure if she was even breathing. His eyes dropped to his hand at her throat. She wondered if he could feel her flighty pulse.

She fought to keep her voice even, “We’re over.”

Suddenly his lips were on her-kissing her so hard that any breath she’d been holding came rushing back at full speed. She gasped, unable to refuse his lips-his tongue-as he held her by the throat. His hold unrelenting.

Her hands pulled at his wrists to no avail—until his grip loosened. She shoved herself away from him, moving so fast that she fell to the floor—a couple feet away from him.

He watched her breathe shakily before him, on her knees—just the way he liked.

He took a step toward her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. She didn’t bother looking up at him.

“You need me, Ara-you need me.”

She felt him go on one knee before her and quickly turned her face aside. She couldn’t look at him.

He gently moved her hair out of her face as she trembled.

“I’ll wait for you.” he murmured.

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger before standing up. He left the room without looking back.

He didn’t come back to the hospital after that. It was radio silence. Not one text. Not one call. Not one single word.

She almost didn’t believe it. It felt too good to be true. It nearly felt like everything went back to the way it was before her rank was announced–except for his lingering stares.

She always felt it-that odd nagging sensation-before letting her eyes follow it. He would confirm her instincts everytime her eyes landed on his unnaturally blue ones. It didn’t matter if he was just passing by on the other side of the hall or if he was gazing past Geto’s locker to watch her walk into homeroom—she always knew when he was looking at her.

At first, it would leave her startled but gradually she chose not to think about it-as long as he stayed away from her, nothing mattered. Even if the whole school thought he mattered—

Everyone noticed it the first day. He didn’t enter the school with her or meet her in between classes to shower her with kisses or obnoxious hugs. By the time last period came around, half of the school had asked her if they had broken up. All she would respond with was, “Stay out of my business.”

She hated every second of dealing with that. Especially when all she could think about was her Dad. If she wasn’t at school, she was at the hospital. She took the bus back and forth until a meek, suit-clad boy near her age approached her and told her that he was assigned as her personal driver. She told him she had no idea what he was talking about. He went on to explain that his service was pre-paid for and handed her his business card. His name is Ijichi Kiyotaka.

There was an emblem on the back of the business card that she later googled—apparently it was the Gojo family symbol. She didn’t think those still existed.

At first she stubbornly took the bus until Ijichi ran up to her at the bus stop when it was raining. He begged her to use him since he was bored out of his mind-his only job was to be at her convenience, even if that meant following her by car in order to be more accessible to her. She was startled at first before deciding to humor his desperate confession due to the bad weather. She never intended to use it again until she realized the private car took less than half of the time the bus did.

She wondered why Gojo felt courteous enough to leave such a thing for her to use—maybe he felt bad or maybe he knew she’d need it since he wouldn’t be around to drive her everywhere. Or maybe this was his way of keeping tabs on her-not that he needed to since her phone glitched every time she tried to turn off ‘location sharing’ with him. Of course, the bastard tampered with her phone.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised. But what had left her shell shocked was when the nurse first took off her father’s bandages. His entire face looked different. His nose reconstructed, subtle dents along his now bald head—it seemed the doctors could only salvage so much.

He didn’t move for a few weeks. The nurse and her took turns propping him up and feeding him meals. It always made her uneasy whenever it was her turn to feed him. Her father had never looked this vulnerable in her life.

Around the third week, he started to talk again. At first it was one word responses, then a string of words and then-after a couple days-full sentences came back to him.

But he was different-different from before. He was.. lighter-as if some type of weight had been lifted. He didn’t remember anything about the incident, and wasn’t the least bit angry when she recounted the details of the ‘alibi’ to him.

He was even kind to the nurses. Offering them smiles when they told him it was a miracle that his speech and mobility were returning at the rate they were. She’d never seen him smile in her whole life.

After several weeks of physical therapy, her father was back on his feet. They went back home after two months at the hospital.

It felt so weird to be back home. She hadn’t been home since the incident. Her father still remained oddly nice. He was still somewhat bed bound due to not being clear to work yet.

She wasn’t used to seeing him home this often, but it wasn’t as much of a nightmare as she thought it would be. In fact, he seemed to look forward to greeting her whenever she came back from school. 

His newfound kindness was so absurd to her she couldn’t believe it. It felt like a front. She almost wondered if her dad had gotten swapped out—especially after he took her hand once and thanked her.

She couldn’t help but stare at him after he said that. The only thing she could say was ‘for what’ and his response was a quiet ‘everything’.

She cried so hard in her room that night.

Two nights later, the peace ended.

The sound of something shattering echoed throughout the house.

Ara awoke with a jolt, her eyes instinctively going to the window before flitting to her bedroom door. It had come from further down the hallway.

She stepped out of her room to see her Father’s office room door left ajar. She slowly walked up to his door before shakily grasping the doorknob.

“Baba?” she asked before opening the door completely.

Her father was on his knees beside his desk. A broken mirror at his feet. His fingers were bloody.

He stood up, his hands out in front of himself, “What did you do to me, Ara?”

She stared at her father, shell-shocked.

His voice was hoarse as he ran his hands over his face, “This isn’t my face. THIS ISN'T MY FACE!”

He began to grab things off his desk and throw them across the room. She ducked.

“THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISNT MY FUCKING FACE!”

She was crying while holding her arms over her head.

Suddenly her father’s voice came from above her. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look up.

“DO YOU SEE MY FACE? DO YOU SEE IT, ARA?”

She stared at him through tear stained eyes—trembling, “Y-yes.” she whispered.

“DOES IT LOOK LIKE YOUR BABA? HMM?”

She flinched. The slight scars along the sides of his face hadn’t completely healed and the indentations were there to stay. His nose was different but it was the best the doctors could do. He’d already seen his face unbandaged before so she couldn’t imagine why he was acting like this now.

He snarled, his grip around her hair tightening, “And don’t fuckin’ lie..”

She inhaled shakily. Anxiety made her throat tight. There was no right answer.

She lightly grabbed the wrist of his hand at her hair, “Baba, please, let go-“

Suddenly something flashed in eyes and he yanked her hair-making her yelp, “Who was that white haired boy? Hmm, WHO?”

Her eyes widened.

He yanked her hair once more, making her cry out, “I know he was in your room first. He was there before me.”

His grip on her hair was hurting her, “B-baba! Please-“

He shook her, “Did you send him to attack me? You hate me that much? HMM?”

She was kicked to the floor. She cried out when her shoulder collided into the hardwood.

“You HATE YOUR BABA THAT MUCH!” he bellowed.

She cried, curling into a ball as she knew-she knew-what was coming. It seemed her father hadn’t changed after all.

She closed her eyes the instant the kicking ensued.

He swung the door open and shoved her out. Her legs were too weak to stay upright as she stumbled, before falling to her knees on the porch. She sobbed.

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE!”

He kicked her, forcing her off the porch. She caught herself a second before her head connected with the asphalt.

She weakly stood up, “Baba, please-don’t do this-“

He bounded in her direction and she immediately scrambled backwards.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN!” He yelled while pointing at her.

She watched him retreat to the house and slam the door through tear stained eyes. The windy night air only made her eyes more watery.

She crumpled to her knees, crying into her hands. Why? Why? Why?

She was so tired. So tired.

Of course his kindness only lasted so long.

She grabbed the duffel bag from underneath her bed. She limped to her closet before stuffing as many clothes as she could within.

She winced when she heard things getting thrown downstairs. It seems he was still in the midst of his episode. Her heart thumped wildly in her ears-the only thought going through her head was to move fast.

She quickly went to her bathroom, grabbing a few necessities before her hand accidentally knocked into her toothbrush stand. It hit the floor with a loud crash.

She gasped. Oh no.

Suddenly all the ruckus going on downstairs went completely quiet. Shit.

She was frozen in shock until she heard the sound of someone bounding up the steps. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she tossed her half full duffel bag over her shoulder and ran towards the window-ignoring all the pain within her body as she scrambled out the way she came.

Just as she slipped out she heard her father burst into her room, yelling insults of every kind.

“YOU STUPID BITCH! YA THOUGHT YOU COULD COME BACK, HUH? HOW FUCKIN’ DARE YOU!!”

She flinched as she sped walked across the lawn-unable to run due to the pain her father’s cold hands and brutal kicks had inflicted.

She heard her father’s voice clearer now. He must’ve spotted her out of the window.

“YOU USELESS LIL SLUT-JUS LIKE YOUR GODDAMN MOTHER!! IF I SEE YOU AGAIN I’M THROWING YOU IN A MENTAL ASYLUM, YA HEAR ME?!!! DON’T EVER COME BACK! DON'T EVER COME BACK!!!”

She grit her teeth, forcing herself to not look back as his yelling grew more irrational. She moved as fast she could, half walking-half limping further down the street. She didn’t look back.

The night was dark. The only light keeping her company were the streetlights along the road but it wasn’t enough. It was still too dark for comfort. No stars, no clouds-her eyes couldn’t get used to it.

She nearly dropped her phone when a car zoomed by.

“Can yo-ou hear me?” Millie’s voice crackled through the phone. Her phone service was acting up.

“Yes, yes. I can.” Ara cleared her throat-trying to dispel the croakiness of her voice, “Millie, please. I-I’m begging you. Just sneak me in this once-please.”

“Ara, you know I would but I’m already grounded. If my parents find out I snuck you in they would actually kill me. Like legit-they’d freak out.”

Ara squeezed her eyes shut-trying not to cry, “Millie, please, I-“ her voice cracked as she whispered, “I have nowhere else to go.”

She hated begging so much, and yet it’s all she seemed to do.

Millie was quiet for a second, “Are you sure you can’t like-sneak into your basement or something? Hopefully your dad will have cooled off by morning.”

That would’ve been a great idea if her basement wasn’t only accessible from the garage. Her Dad had multiple cameras and motion detectors installed around the garage. I don’t know what he’ll do if he sees me..

Ara tried to keep her voice steady, “He said he didn’t want to see me again.”

“Yeah, but parents say crap all the time. I’m sure he didn’t mean it-“

“He did.” she deadpanned. Her Father never said those words before, nor had he ever physically kicked her out. She’d seen the violence in his eyes, the spitefulness in his words—it was different. He was ready to hurt her if she came back.

“You really think so?”

Her father’s ferocious expression flashed within her mind and she flinched, resisting the urge to sob. Would anyone ever believe her?

Her voice was faint, “Yeah.”

“Shit-“ Millie was suddenly cut off when a womanly voice came from her end.

“Millie! Who the heck are you calling this late? Gimme that-“

Suddenly the phone line was cut, leaving the dull beeping sound behind.

He paced beside the main entrance. The sound of his dress shoes clacking against the spotless floor echoed throughout the foyer.

Suddenly a feminine voice arose from behind him.

“Sir, your Uncle requests to speak with you.”

He snapped his head around to see a maid outstretching the phone to him with both hands.

The corner of his lip twitched in annoyance, “Just end it. I already told him I left and won’t be back for the rest of the night.”

The maid knew better than to question it-even if colorful words of dismay arose from the other end of the phone. In all honesty, he hadn’t told his Uncle that he wouldn’t be back but was it really that much of a concern? The soirée was boring as shit anyway. Too many old people.

The second he got Ijichi’s call nothing else mattered anyway.

He peered out the bullet proof glass doors when he saw headlights flash past. It was hard to see clearly due to the downpour but he immediately recognized the all black Rolls Royce that pulled up to the entryway.

A subtle grin tugged at the corner of his lip as he sauntered backward a couple steps. He leaned against the stone and marble centerpiece of the dual staircase foyer. The excitement simmering in his veins was unmatched.

Just as he crossed his arms, the double doors were pushed open—revealing her.

Any thoughts about posing left him the second his eyes landed on her. He’d never felt so awake—so drawn to someone.

He was up and off his perch within seconds. He walked up to her, pacing his long legs to move steadily despite everything in his body telling him otherwise. He wanted to rush to her.

He stopped right in front of her. She still hadn’t stepped inside yet.

She was completely drenched-from head to toe. Her clothes stuck to her skin. Droplets of water slipped down the waist length tendrils of her hair. The edges of her pretty lips were raw and reddened-she always had such a bad habit of gnawing at them, didn’t she? Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as she stared up at him.

She looked so.. lost.

He exhaled silently. His fingers twitched at his sides-the heedy urge to touch her returning at a thousandfold.

Why’d she have to look so pretty when she cries?

He couldn’t tell if the droplets of water caught between her lashes were rain or tears but it didn’t matter. She was here.

She came to him.

She needed him.

He peered down at her before tilting his head, “Hi kitten.” His voice ever so soft.

He saw her eyes widen before her bottom lip quivered. She fell into him and he instantly caught her trembling frame. He drew her close to his chest, hugging her tightly as she sobbed against him. Her tiny hands fisted his dress-shirt, clutching onto him-she didn’t want him to let go.

The rush that coursed through him was incomprehensible. It went straight to his head as he smoothed down her wet hair. His arm around her waist tightened impossibly. He never wanted to let her go.

Her touch was terribly sweet—overwhelmingly so. It’d been the most agonizing two months of his life without her.

Wherever her delicate body met his, warmth surged underneath his skin—like a craving being satiated. It felt so right. Her with him like this. It was perfect. She was perfect.

And she was his.

They both knew it now. The second she stepped onto his doorstep she must’ve known.

She could cry all she wanted in his arms now, if that soothed her. It’d be the last time she cried over anything meaningless anyway. All of her tears would be his alone from now on. He’d never let anything hurt her again.

Precious things ought to be cared for, after all.

a/n: hi thanks for reading this crazy ish bc honestly idk how anyone does LMAO but i want to apologize if the way some things were worded/the grammar is off bc i feel like i've been off my writing game. i haven't been reading a lot in my personal life and that usually helps me format things better :,) i need to get back to reading asap. anyway, if anyone is curious here's the house inspo for gojo's place -> https://imagelocations.com/mansion-31

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[twstowo]

Chapter 1-2 [Sorceress!Yuu x OB!Characters]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: Wanting to help the collared people you follow Che'nya's plan and infiltrate the castle to befriend Riddle.

♡︎ Warning: None just Riddle being cute

「 ✦ PREVIOUS ✦ 」 「 ✦ NEXT ✦ 」

The plan was simple: get inside the castle, befriend Riddle, and try to change his mind about the collared people. But nothing really seemed simple to you, especially when you were expected to befriend a tyrant.

So, there you sat, perched on a chair, patiently waiting as the trio rummaged through outfits to find the perfect disguise for your role as the new palace architect. Che’nya, with a mischievous grin, mentioned the disappearance of the actual architect, leaving you with a nagging feeling that the details were best left unexplored. You couldn’t help but wonder how Riddle wouldn’t immediately recognize someone he had recently collared. Ace, unperturbed, dropped a blond wig onto your head, bearing an uncanny resemblance to your own hair, just a different hue—an inquiry you dared not voice. Deuce, on the other hand, overwhelmed you with volumes of the Queendom’s architectural styles. Days stretched into a week, your nose buried in dusty tomes, absorbing everything to brace yourself for whatever Riddle might demand. Amidst your studious immersion, you longed for the day this charade would come to an end.

Grim slept next to your books, he looked so peacefull as you reached for his head giving him some pats, brushing his fur with your fingers. At least someone was having a good time.

"What do you mean I, the great Grim, can't go with my Human?" Grim's voice reverberated in protest as he pointed an accusatory finger at Che’nya. The four of you sat sipping tea before the planned departure, and Che’nya had insisted that Grim couldn't accompany you. The rationale given was that Grim might cause disruptions that would compromise the entire plan. Initially, you had reservations about separating from your feline companion, having never ventured anywhere without him. However, Che’nya’s reasoning began to resonate.

"I also believe it’s for the best, Grim," you said, trying to pacify your betrayed friend. "Your help is crucial here." But Grim's disappointment was evident as he refused to meet your eyes.

"Fine. Go without me. But if you need help, don’t even think about calling for me!" With that proclamation, Grim stormed off, leaving you alone with Che’nya.

"How are you feeling? Tomorrow is the big day," he said, flashing a broad smile that did little to ease your nerves. You'd spent a lot of time contemplating what could go wrong—whether Riddle might recognize you, discover that he had collared you, or find your true intentions.

"Nervous, but I think I can handle it," you replied, attempting to project confidence.

"That's what I want to hear, nya!" He rose from his seat, offering a gentle smile that seemed to reassure you that everything would turn out okay. And you trusted him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

In front of you loomed the gates of the castle, towering above you like monumental giants. As nervous thoughts raced through your mind, you couldn't help but chuckle, recalling these particular gate styles from one of the books you had studied. Oddly, this recollection gave you a surge of confidence. When the guards ushered you inside, you encountered Riddle once more, this time greeted with a warmer reception. Surprisingly, he seemed pleased to see you. Perhaps your initial encounter had simply been an anomaly, or perhaps he saw you in a new light now.

Riddle took your hand and bestowed a quick kiss upon it/gave you a quick handshake in welcome. "I've heard quite a bit about you, an architect of considerable renown," he praised, elevating your spirits even though these praises weren't intended for you. "But, pardon my frankness, I had envisioned you differently." His comment made you widen your eyes, and you felt a sudden shiver run down your body.

"I hear that often," you replied smoothly, trying to maintain composure. "Before we discuss the building plans, I'd love a tour of the palace, just to gather some initial inspiration. If that's possible." You glanced around the entrance, taking in the surrounding rose-filled bushes.

"Please allow me to escort you around." Riddle's company led you through various rooms and halls within the castle, each adorned in shades of reds and whites. The floors boasted a chessboard pattern in black and white, a pristine and luxurious atmosphere entirely distinct from the dusty tower you once called home. After an extensive tour, Riddle guided you outside, revealing the verdant gardens and a sprawling rose labyrinth, meticulously tended by the royal gardeners. Finally, your journey concluded at a collapsed building.

"Several months ago, the collared peasants rebelled against my mother's regime and destroyed this beautifully crafted building," Riddle spoke, a hint of disdain evident in his voice as he referred to the collared people.

"Rest assured, there's nothing beyond my ability to build. I'll create something that will please the Queen's desires and more," you assured him with a smile, earning visible satisfaction from Riddle.

"Very well." Some guards approached, and Riddle turned to leave. "I entrust the rest to your capable hands," he stated before departing.

With a sigh of relief, you released the breath you'd been holding. Everything was proceeding perfectly, just as you'd hoped. Gazing at the ruined building, you found the guards and workers awaiting your instructions. "I need some paper and a pencil."

Swiftly, you sketched structures inspired by the palace's designs, blending in elements from other styles that harmonized well. After several hours immersed in the drawings, you raised your head to find all eyes on your sketches. A twinge of embarrassment hit knowing they'd witnessed the entire process. However, the awe and admiration in their expressions reassured you that your work was appreciated. Rising from your seat, you began directing everyone around, bracing yourself for the tasks ahead. This month would be demanding, but you were prepared.

Lying on the bed, you relished the comfort of the room Riddle had assigned you. It was quite spacious, and it struck you that Riddle seemed particularly fond of this architect. It dawned on you that you knew so little about this person—if Riddle asked you something, you’d be completely at a loss. Determined to remedy this, you resolved to locate the palace library the next day and educate yourself about the architect.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You wandered through the palace walls, groggy from the night before, in search of the library. After a long walk, you finally found it and stepped inside. The sheer size of the place left you in awe. The bookshelves stretched like the halls themselves, laden with books of various sizes and hues. Everything was meticulously organized and devoid of any dust. There was so much to read, and yet so little time. For now, your focus was on learning about the architect. You hurriedly looked through the books about this strange figure. Fortunately, their face was never shown, signifying their desire for privacy. Most of the works were stunning, intricate creations, teeming with details you'd never encountered in the books Deuce had provided. You made mental notes about these, realizing that diverging too much from what Riddle envisioned could raise suspicions.

As you returned the books to their places, one peculiar volume caught your eye. It bore your last name, prompting a moment of confusion until you plucked it from the shelf. Inside, you discovered a book chronicling your parents' journey. It vividly portrayed snowy landscapes and recounted how they had earned their place as landowners, working their way into prosperity to establish something in their name. Memories from your childhood flooded back—moments with your mother, interactions with villagers, and the constant presence of a childhood friend who was always by your side. Everything seemed blissful, which made you wonder why they had locked you away in the tower. Questions swirled in your mind, but a strange, unsettling feeling urged you to cease your inquiry, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

Reluctantly, you returned the book to its spot, unwilling to dwell further. With a heavy heart, you moved toward the exit, your head bowed in contemplation. However, just before leaving, you noticed someone else in the library—a surprise visitor. To your astonishment, it was none other than Riddle.

You pondered whether engaging in conversation with Riddle was a wise choice. He appeared consumed by work and potentially quick to collar anyone deviating from his desires. However, before you could depart, your eyes met, and you found yourself captivated by his stunning blue gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted you warmly, rising to meet you, and you were jolted out of your daydreaming.

“Forgive me, I just—”

“No need for apologies. In fact, I would love your company if you permit,” his tone unexpectedly tender. Was this the same person who had erupted when Grim landed on his head?

“Of course. How may I assist?”

“I’d like to hear your thoughts on my designs.” He gestured toward his table, displaying the most intricately detailed building plans you’d ever seen on paper. Your reaction was instinctual, you had to stifle your amazement. If he saw the design you'd given to the construction team, he might have certainly collared you.

“This looks—” You paused, realizing you were playing the role of a distinguished architect whom Riddle admired. You couldn’t merely fawn over his work. “Pleasant.” Despite the underwhelming choice of words, Riddle’s eyes widened with pride.

“I’ve been studying your designs extensively, attempting to draft the building myself. But my efforts could never compare to the real artist.” He regarded you as if you were his shining star, leaving you to wonder if he realized you weren’t the actual architect.

“I’m glad you appreciate my designs. It’s always nice to find a fan.” You offered a smile, and he reciprocated, clearly pleased with your words. Yet, even as he smiled, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, indicative of fatigue. “Have you been overworking yourself?” You posed the question, realizing afterward that it might not have been the most appropriate thing to ask.

“Well, I have my duties as the future king of the Queendom of Roses. I can’t simply set them aside,” he responded, a glimmer of happiness shining through as he realized your concern for him. On your end, you grappled with the situation. Your intention was to grow closer to Riddle to facilitate removing the collars from everyone, so you needed a way to break down his barriers.

“How about baking some strawberry tarts?” you suggested, sporting a cheerful smile. He looked at you with a quizzical expression, seemingly ready to dismiss your idea. “If you need to leave midway, I can finish what we started and bring you the tarts when you’re free. So, no need to worry about a thing.” You offered solutions, trying to convince him, though he seemed puzzled by your eagerness to spend time with him.

“If you insist, I could permit it,” he agreed, adjusting his tie in a nervous gesture. “But everything must be done precisely! And the kitchen must be perfectly cleaned afterward,” he stated, almost as an order. You nodded in agreement.

“Follow me, Riddle!” you exclaimed, taking his arm and guiding him to the kitchen, causing him to widen his eyes at your bold actions.

In the midst of baking the tarts, Riddle meticulously followed the culinary book's instructions, determined to use precise measurements. Any deviation seemed to stress him, and he'd restart if things didn't align perfectly. As he focused intently on each step, you couldn't help but feel frustrated by his strict approach.

“Riddle!” you called out, finally voicing your exhaustion with his rigidity. Startled, he dropped the spoon he was holding, his face flushing with a mix of emotions, perhaps anger or embarrassment, you couldn't discern. But you persisted, “This is why your designs aren’t perfect! Things like this aren’t meant to be perfect, they’re meant for the fun of it!” He seemed to freeze, absorbing your words. “When I come up with new designs, I don’t aim for perfection, I draw what I find fun at the moment,” you elaborated. His mouth opened and closed, as if struggling with your point. He rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

“So… I need to have fun? Stop trying to make my designs perfect?” he murmured, almost to himself, but you caught every word. You nodded, handing him the dropped spoon. He hesitated but then swiftly scooped flour, bypassing the measurements this time. You saw him gulp, battling his instinctual need for precision, yet he bravely added the flour to the batter.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it!” You clapped your hands, prompting a deeper blush from Riddle, who let out a sigh but continued to bake. You sensed that he had relaxed, gradually enjoying the process of making tarts with you. Despite his attempts to maintain a pristine kitchen and occasionally strive for perfect measurements, you noticed a significant change in his behavior, and that was what mattered most.

As you grabbed a large bag of flour, you lost your balance and tripped over your own feet, sending the flour cascading onto the floor and covering you both in its powdery embrace. Panic surged through you, as you slowly glanced at Riddle who also had been covered in flour from head to toe, you anticipated Riddle's reaction to the mess, believing that now even Che’nya could not save you from this one, but unexpectedly, he burst into a hearty laughter. You froze, stunned by his unanticipated response. Instead of anger, his laughter filled the room, and he even walked over, extending his hand to help you up from the flour-covered floor.

“I haven’t laughed like this in such a long time,” he chuckled, his cheeks tinted pink from the flour. His laughter was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile back. However, amidst the chaos and his laughter, you noticed something about him that felt strangely captivating, even covered in flour he seemed to have this angelic look to him, wait, what did you mean with angelic? Did he always look this nice? You shook off the thought, dismissing it as a trick of the moment.

“Sorry, I will clean all of this!” You hurriedly searched for a broom, but Riddle placed a hand on your shoulder, a warm and friendly gesture.

“I used to visit a friend of mine when I was young,” he reminisced, an unfamiliar softness in his tone. “One day, he tried to teach me how to bake. That day, I dropped a full bag of flour. I never heard the end of it from my mom, but it was such a nice moment…” His words trailed off, and both of you stood there, flour-covered but sharing a moment of connection. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment before he withdrew it, seemingly realizing the gesture's duration. “Sorry…” His demeanor shifted slightly as he began to look for a broom. “We should clean all of this,” he suggested, and you nodded in agreement, grateful for the lighter atmosphere between you both.

The rest of your free time was spent enjoying the tarts and tea, chatting about various topics. It became evident that Riddle was gradually opening up to you. Even if it was initially part of the plan, you couldn't deny that you enjoyed his company.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

After a long day, you finally returned to your room, feeling exhausted. The building constructions were progressing smoothly, even better than expected. As you made your way towards the closet to change into your pajamas, a strange knock caught your attention. It seemed odd for someone to visit at such a late hour, but you decided to investigate. Upon opening the door, no one was in sight. You shrugged it off, thinking it might have been your imagination until the same knock echoed again. This time, you scanned the room, even checking the windows, but found no one, until your gaze shifted to the mirror in your room.

“This is the first time we get to talk properly,” the strange woman in the mirror addressed you, her lips moving in sync with her words, yet she remained motionless, fixated on you. You felt frozen, a chill creeping over you—did ghosts exist? Were you so fatigued and sleep-deprived that you began to see apparitions? “I was expecting this reaction, but relax, I am not here to harm you. Quite the contrary, I want to help you.” Her voice, despite standing next to the mirror, sounded distant and echoed faintly.

“Who are you?” You approached the enigmatic figure cautiously.

“I am you from another universe. I believe your friend Che’nya has already explained most of it.” The revelation stunned you. She had been the one to free you from the collar. Hearing Che’nya's tale of being cursed to live inside a mirror, unable to experience the outside world, evoked a pang of empathy. Having been locked in a tower yourself for so long, devoid of interaction and exposure to the outside world, you could empathize with her isolation.

“How do I set you free?” Your directness caught her off guard, her head bowed to conceal her sorrow. It felt surreal—her facial features mirrored yours, almost like watching your reflection cry.

“Only someone with an immense amount of magical power can release me,” she replied, raising her head to fix her gaze on you.

“But is there anyone out there with that kind of power?” You questioned the possibility. While many powerful wizards existed, like Riddle, you doubted they could intervene in such a situation.

“You,” she responded, and your eyes widened in surprise before adopting a more skeptical expression. “I can grant any wish, but with each wish comes a curse that consumes the wisher, slowly eroding their sanity and driving them mad. Strangely, it also bestows a certain strength upon them.”

Your astonishment grew; the thought of losing your mind over a wish you were still uncertain about was daunting. Sensing your concern, she offered crucial reassurance. “Given that we are the same person, this curse will affect you differently. Your sanity will deplete at a slower rate.”

“Why does it affect me differently, and what happens if I completely lose my mind? What then?” You felt the weight of the seriousness setting in, wondering if helping her was worth such a dire situation.

“This is our curse. It works like poison—the more exposure you have, the less impact it will have over time.” She paused, extending her hand toward the mirror’s surface. “If you do succumb, I’ve discovered a way to undo the curse during my confinement here.”

“And what’s that?” You inquired, intrigued.

“A true love’s kiss.” The two of you stood facing each other in an awkward silence. What did she mean by a true love's kiss? You hadn't found someone who made your heart skip a beat, and as you began to voice these thoughts, the image of Riddle laughing, covered in flour, flashed into your mind, reddening your face.

“W-what? S-so, that means you’d just kiss all those guys you cursed?” You blurted out, still rattled by thoughts of Riddle. As soon as the words left your mouth, both of you seemed to stutter, embarrassed like two high school girls gossiping about their crushes.

It took a while for both of you to calm down and realize the gravity of the situation. Sighing, you took a few steps back and settled onto the bed, facing the sorceress. Emerging from a tower, only to be thrust into this chaos, you wondered if things were spiraling further out of control with each passing moment.

"Can't I just wish for you to be free?" you asked her, as this seemed to make the most sense.

"The power of the wish is connected with the magical power of the wisher." She looked at you with a sad expression. "And for now, you don't possess enough magical power. The only way for you to get stronger is to wish for smaller things for now." You nodded, annoyed with the revelation. Of course, things couldn't be as easy as you wanted them to be. How foolish of you. As you thought about any wish, with nothing coming to mind, you watched as she slowly started vanishing from the mirror. Some sort of magical dust slowly made your reflection show in the mirror as it used to. As you heard a strange voice in the back of your mind, "If you ever feel like asking for a wish, repeat these words.”

“Wish and want in sacred verse, Grant my heart's desire, universe.”

That was an incantation. You rushed to grab some paper before forgetting it, but as you started jotting it down, you realized it had ingrained itself in your mind. It seemed intentional, as if you couldn’t erase it even if you wanted to. You relaxed, lying back on the bed, letting your tired eyes close. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

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[corviiids]

For the director's cut fanfic thing: ⭐⭐⭐ (these are THREE stars valid for whatever. I'm giving you blank checks)

thank you again <3

blank check 2/3 goes back to as you like it again! but this time i want to talk about my shadow designs for the akechi bossfights we've encountered in the preceding chapters >:3 there are five - the Puppet, the Singer, the Bard, the Dancer, and the Magician.

but this got really ABSURDLY long this time so ill stick to mostly the Puppet, and just do a brief ("brief") overview of the others for now.......

(for context: this is my palace au and akechi's keywords are akechi goro, the world, theatre.)

the Puppet (photos of giant puppets below if that freaks you out!)

the first Wing the thieves encounter is the puppet show, and the boss shadow is a giant marionette:

For one thing, it’s huge—maybe three or four times the size of a human being. It’s also gleaming, carefully polished and buffed, reflecting light more viciously in the areas where it seems the wood might be chipped or worn. The polish throws the lines of joints and pieces into sharp relief, giving the puppet the general impression of something whole that had been cut up and pieced slowly together with hinges and nails. Behind it, mostly concealed by its limp bulk, is a door. As they might have gleaned from the chatter of the audience, the show does not yet seem to have begun. As such, the puppet on stage is limp on its strings. Most disturbingly, it’s draped backward, not forward, snapped unnaturally at the spine and giving it the extremely uncanny look of a corpse on uneven ceiling hooks. They can just make out the side of the thing’s eyes from where they’re standing. Gravity has not been kind to them: the puppet’s eyelids are dropped open, bulging eyes left wide and staring up as far back as the build will let them. They haven’t rolled all the way into the wooden skull, presumably because they can’t. Instead, the unseeing yellow eyes remain fixed on the back corner of the stage. The puppet is entirely still. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Makoto says faintly.

i think the Puppet is my favourite of the five because he's so disturbing. i imagine he looks a bit like the giant marionettes by the french street theatre show royal de luxe:

but i really love these guys, so i think it's uncharitable to say akechi's shadow looks exactly like them. i know giant puppets are always a little freaky but i genuinely love the royal de luxe puppets and i think the workmanship on these does genuinely do a ton of work to dispel that uncanny vibe.

puppet akechi on the other hand is absolutely drenched in uncanny valley, so i guess imagine these puppets but much scarier. the main thing is those places where different pieces of wood are joined, in the joints / on the limbs / etc, because that's very key to puppet akechi's look in my mind, hence "something whole that had been cut up and pieced slowly together with hinges and nails". the Puppet is a marionette, but the way he's been constructed and set up on stage almost calls to mind the imagery of a corpse that's been reconstructed to perform. the way he moves is really unnatural:

Ren is beginning to think they might be able to get past and slip through that door without a fight when the whole creature rears up, back strings going taut, and lashes wildly out at him with a horrible clack of its arms—he leaps back and crashes directly into Haru, who catches and dips him like a princess before twirling him frantically into Ryuji and the puppet gouges a deep gash in the stage floor.    As they watch it screeches, howls an unnatural shriek, eyes suddenly wide and bulging larger. They ‘blink’ a few times, eyelids flipping, then the puppet Akechi goes limp on its strings again, though decidedly more upright than before, like whoever’s pulling the strings is now on guard. Its eyes stay open this time, bright gold and piercing.

very much not like something exercising its own agency, but like a body on strings being operated by someone who did not care to practice in the artistry of operating a puppet to make it look like a live thing - the puppet is literally just a tool to be flailed about.

this also shows in the way the puppet sits when it's at rest. guys do you know how god damn hard it is to find normal pictures of puppets? when you google marionette it just comes up with a bunch of fnaf shit. anyway check this guy out

at rest, they usually just kind of dangle innocently, or might slouch forward if given too much slack, right? it was important to me that puppet akechi look very wrong at rest, as if he's not "at rest" so much as he's just been left to hang. hence: "it’s draped backward, not forward, snapped unnaturally at the spine and giving it the extremely uncanny look of a corpse on uneven ceiling hooks." i'm basically imagining meat hooks, like, in a slaughterhouse or something you know? like he's just dangling from those.

that imagery was inspired by persona 5 dancing, actually - akechi's finishing pose in his dance is this:

this is just such an unnatural pose. when i saw it for the first time, i just couldn't get the image out of my head of a string puppet who'd been hung up and left to dangle without any regard for how it might look or feel (lol). not to mention that blank look in his eyes. i think a lot of the Puppet was born from this dance because the dance itself is so dynamic and silly but then the lead-up to the end suddenly gets very jerky and puppet-like. i really like his dance!

the Puppet's battle mechanic is that the applause will continue as long as the Puppet is either acting or getting hurt (kind of like the mettaton fight in undertale actually?). if the applause stops, then the Puppet will be inflicted with Despair - in p5 the Despair effect means you lose SP for each turn and then instantly die on the third turn. makoto ends up healing the Puppet and yusuke mercy-kills it before it can commit suicide:

Fox silently raises his gun. The Thieves collectively flinch as the Puppet dissipates. The applause starts back up. “If we’d left things silent,” Yusuke says, “it would have only happened again.”

because this is the first shadow bossfight the thieves encounter in the Theatre, i needed it to have some broader implications (vs some of the later shadows who have more specific interactions). so obviously the analogue for akechi is that the performance needs to continue and he needs to continue receiving acknowledgement from the public / from shido / etc because if he's not useful and entertaining and noticeable and such, then he's nothing - his life doesn't mean anything. obviously, if he doesnt perform for shido (perform in the sense of working, but also in the sense of showmanship) he'll probably be killed. but also, akechi really externalises his sense of self to an insane degree. the conceit of the palace is essentially that his entire internal world is the show, it's just this shallow performance, the backstage is empty. if he stops existing in the cognition of the masses, he essentially "stops existing".

i think a lot about third semester akechi in royal and how completely he's faded from public awareness. he doesn't care because he's a dead man walking and has locked into nihilism at that point. but if you look at what akechi says in the engine room:

his voice when he says this says a lot to me. akechi's envisioning the world as it will look when he has to return and face the consequences of the world discovering what's behind the curtain and realising his credibility was all a show. to be honest, i think this also plays a role in his decision to sacrifice himself in this scene. i don't think he wanted to die, but i think he did realise that the post-thieves, post-truth world wasn't a place that held anything for him anymore, and his desire to return to that reality was dramatically weakened, so it was an easier decision for him to choose to make that sacrifice than it otherwise might have been.

um, i had a point. okay, so, i was saying that once the applause stops, the Puppet begins to despair. the Puppet also is the most direct representation of akechi as someone who is being used. all the shadow bosses correlate to some aspect of akechi's need to perform and to the varying reasons why they all have that sense of desperation:

“Kinda feels like they’re just defendin’ themselves, you know,” [Ryuji] says. “Or somethin’. Look too much like him. It’s weird they can’t talk, cos it’s like fighting a dumb animal. Don’t they all seem real scared to you?” None of Akechi’s Shadows have delivered grand speeches about conquering the world. Even Futaba’s Shadow had given them a fairly strong indication of what was going on with her, that overwhelming guilt which had given birth to a resolve to lock herself up in her mind and die. Akechi’s Shadows have lashed out, tried to destroy them, sure. But it feels different in a way that’s growing more and more impossible to ignore. Desperate to fend them off, more than anything, like each one is the final bastion standing for a world that could crumble at any moment.

that's why once you figure out how to stop each shadow's "show" from going on, they instantly die:

ripping the Singer's mask off causes him to cease to exist (see below)

silencing the Bard, who relies on the power of his words to manipulate others, removes his power and reveals that he's pretty easy to take down

the Dancer's feet are always bleeding because he can't stop moving. he's hard to catch, but the moment he stops dancing, he's revealed to have extremely low defence and can be taken out very easily

but the Puppet is literally being manipulated by a puppetmaster. because he no longer has any use when the applause stops, he no longer has a reason to exist. i also just thought this would be a fun effect to start on because it's so drastic as an introduction to akc's psyche and really gives the thieves a sense of what they're working with by throwing them directly into the deep end.

ok let's leave the puppet behind for now. im gonna be more brief with the others i promise (maybe)

the Singer

LET'S TALK about. beneath the mask. a song about ren. but it's also a song about goro.

I'm a shape-shifter at Poe's masquerade Hiding both face and mind All free for you to draw

the fic goes over some of my meta about this:

[Yusuke] I have done some research. [Makoto] Oh? [Yusuke] I believe when the Opera Shadow sang of “Poe’s Masquerade”, he was referring to a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, entitled “The Masque of the Red Death”.

eternally grateful for the scene during the pyramid arc where yusuke loredumps about egyptian mythology so i have precedent to do this

yusuke summarises the story in this chapter (chapter 4), but basically: the story is about rich people abandoning the common folk to a plague, until a personification of the plague wearing a red mask enters the castle. when his mask is removed, it's revealed there is nothing underneath. everyone in the castle then succumbs to the plague.

the superficial connections to akechi are pretty obvious - red mask, plague doctor. etc. but this song is really, really telling for both ren and goro. i briefly went over this in my last dvd commentary post about the palace fic, but this relates to my meta around both of them as mask wearers. the line "all free for you to draw" is a big one - ren is "all free for you," the player, "to draw" - he becomes who you need him to be, and because you need to max out your confidants, he becomes (via you) who his friends need him to be.

goro is similar on a different scale because he moulds his personality to what the public expects him to be. he takes it one step further, because it's less utility for him and more foundational - as i said, to an extent the performance is the substance of his personality, which is the core of the distortion. so both ren and goro are wearing the mask, malleable in character, their actual personality being somewhat questionable, but that emptiness is only true for goro. ren's definitely got something underneath it, but goro feels like he doesn't.

brief cw for suicidal ideation, but i also generally take it as a given that goro doesn't really expect to live past 18 after defeating shido. not that he's actively suicidal, but i think literally or figuratively he knows after shido's downfall, his own life will pretty much be over, and that's part of what drives the emptiness. the show really only needs to go on until that point, and after that there's no need to build a real thing underneath to return to. he's very much living for that goal.

anyway: so the Singer starts out singing the Phantom of the Opera - the Shadow is very much modelled after the phantom - but swaps to beneath the mask and begins to connect with ren. the Singer wears a red mask. i really like this mask! i envision it as looking like someone pouring blood over his face and then the blood freezing in place, so it just looks very molten and liquid but fixed over half his face.

ren defeats the Singer by ripping his mask off:

[Ren] Please don’t take off my mask, revealing dark [Ann] OMG!! [Ann] THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED WHEN WE TOOK OFF HIS MASK!! [Ann] HE REVEALED DARK!!!! [Ann] HE DISAPPEARED!!!!!!!!!!

(i love the thieves because i dont have to be subtle about my symbolism i can just make them say it)

anyway, just like the figure in the Masque of the Red Death, ripping off the Singer's mask reveals "dark" underneath - he ceases to exist.

Just a cage of bones There's nothing inside

the Bard and the Dancer

when i was first plotting this fic, i was actually designing the palace not as a written environment but as though it would be a playable place. so a lot of it is informed by me picturing what this palace would be like to play through and explore, building it out as a video game environment in my mind's eye and then trying to describe it from that point. i took the same approach to the bossfights, so they're all designed around central gameplay mechanics which are largely based on status effects and how the player would strategise around them. (to that end, a lot of the design stuff in my doc never made it into the fic...)

the conceit of the bard was a shadow who can manifest abstract concepts into being by manipulating reality with his words. so the status effects he uses are brainwash and sleep, mostly. his monologues are modified versions of shakespeare's works.

part of the reason why i started writing this fic was specifically to challenge myself in aras of writing im not very confident in: so longform planning, progression of plot, environment description, and action scenes being major ones. writing all the boss fights was and continues to be a real challenge. the chapter that the bard shows up in (chapter 5) ended up taking ages and ages in part because i kept putting off writing this fight. now that it's done, though, the bard fight is actually maybe my favourite fight scene i've written lol. it always turns out that way!!! the reason i like it is because i realised the physical action wasn't the fun part of writing a fight like this. since it was focused on status effects, it meant i got to crawl into ren's headspace when he got brainwashed, which i really really enjoyed doing because i got to drag out some trauma that joker has lovingly repressed.

   to set my fellows, phantoms in the wings    in deadly hate the one against the other…    This isn’t the Casino. This is somewhere else entirely. The Casino, and everything that came with it, that was months ago. How did he forget? The cottonwool that had crept so slowly into his blood dissipates in a mad rush that leaves him dizzy with disbelief. His hands, now that he can feel them again, are trembling. The knife between his fingers, trembling. The cool floor beneath him, the air in his lungs. How close had he come to never feeling that again?    Had he really just been feeling safe about that plan? Had he really felt everything was going to be okay? If anything had gone wrong—anything at all—he’d have been gone. He’d have been dead. How had they made it so he felt okay with that?    A trick? A ruse?    How blasé they’d all been, when it was his life they were gambling with like a worthless set of poker chips! And they’re here—all around him. Safe? He’s never been in more danger.    “Joker!”    Surrounded. He’s surrounded by the ones who left him for dead.

the Dancer doesn't get as much attention in text because i didn't want to slow down the pacing of the story every few minutes to do another huge scene tgat doesn't really serve a purpose, just like the exploration of the Globe Wing didn't. all that mattered was that he was shown to be adaptable, agile, and resilient - the Dancer needs to be in top condition at all times and ready to dodge any threat. the imagery that came through to me the strongest was the idea that his feet are always bleeding, so he leaves bloodstains all over the floor.

the Magician

this was another scene i adored writing. i think environment-wise, the House of Cards is my favourite Wing in the palace because it's the most unique structure. it's not a styled theatre like the others, it's more on-theme to the Magician, like he's set up his own performance environment. so it's just a huge house of cards made of crumbling playing cards which is really difficult to navigate and which joker kind of blends into.

the premise for the Magician was someone who needs to perform miracles and present impossible illusions as reality with a flair for drama. the Magician fools the Thieves over and over and over again, because they are good-hearted people who want to save him.

did you ever see that unused mementos request in royal where akechi tells the thieves about a target to save someone, and doesn't tell them that the someone in question is dodgy themself, and watches to see how quickly the Thieves immediately trust them?

i don't think i based this fight off this request because im pretty sure i had it planned out before i ever saw this, but i was really pleased to see it because it's very much the same idea. even in the engine room, akechi calls the thieves idiots for inviting him back into the team. of course, this isn't a good or healthy worldview lol and it's something he has to unlearn because he literally trusts no one and that's not an extreme anyone should be endorsing, but he also has a point in that the thieves are willing to throw their faith into things way too easily and don't look critically at people or situations. so the magician fools them, victimises them, tricks them into considering him a victim, fools them again, traumatises them, but they all continue to feel empathy for him and try to save him when he's in trouble. akc's cynicism vs the thieves' faith is a big theme of this one i think and the question is like, when to doubt vs when to trust even when you have evidence to the opposition. i think the right position is somewhere between thesis and antithesis (which iirc is not actually the wording hegel used when describing dialectics? lol... i might be wrong. i never studied hegel so my knowledge is pretty superficial. but i think this was a translation thing anyway because allegedly goro doesnt refer directly to hegel in jp? someone can confirm or deny idk)

anyway those are the bossfights we've had so far!!! just the VIP Box to go now......................... :3

[anyalovesu]

tolerate it.

xiii. all is well if it ends well with you.

—"all is well if it ends well with you."

necessary notes:

contains 🔞 content if ur not into that or u r a minor, do noT READ

the 🔞 is pw authenticated but the password just somewhere around this series hehe ( i did this to save face bc im that is the first time i wrote straight up smut and i'm seriously slowly getting delirious if it's good or what ) ( skl: embarrassingly i had a friend who has the experience that clearly i don't, read it and give me feedback if shit i wrote actually happens (basically validating the shit that i wrote) and it's safe to say that was the most awkward phase of our friendship 🥲🤡 )

ur feedback will be appreciated ( you can send it here ) tell me what i can improve or which parts did u enjoy or whatever u want to tell me ( pls be nice ) and i will read it and respond if u ever send me ur thoughts hehe

this is the last chapter of this series but i might be writing more about this in the epilogue or in the side stories hehe if ur interested in that, i will link the bsides on the main post !!

most of all, thank you, to anyone who read this. for a good amount of time i was convinced that i would be the only one reading this over and over until im delusional that someone is reading this other than me but it turned out that someone is actually reading whatever this is that i write 🥲🥲 sooo thank u sm, i will always appreciate u guys 🤍

anyways...

“Cielo, oh my god, you need to stop crying, papagalitan na tayo ng coordinator! They’re looking for me na!” Bianca whined, handing Cielo another tissue as Cielo asked her to accompany her before they went to the venue. “It’s not like she’s not gonna be your sister anymore!”

“Hindi mo nga kasi naiintindihan!” Cielo whined, breath hitching as he kept on crying. 

“I’m gonna get kuya. I’m so sorry I don’t know how to comfort you anymore, Cielo!” Bianca was in a verge of tears as well, being all stressed out and needing to excuse herself from the situation because she didn’t want to ruin the hard work that the make-up artists did on her. 

That being said, as Bianca was running towards the men’s dressing room when she came across Leon, who was all ready to go. “Oh bakit ka andito? Hindi pa kayo nakakaalis nila Ynes?”

“Cielo is still crying, kuya! I don’t know what to do anymore!” Bianca was clearly in distress. Her and Cielo have been friends for a long time too, and getting overwhelmed when a friend needed her really made her feel gutted.

“Pumunta ka na sa sasakyan. I’ll handle this, okay?” Bianca nodded before making her way to the front of the resort where the vans were waiting for them, meeting the rest of the girls.

Leon headed to where Bianca seemingly came from to find Cielo in the courtyard garden of the exclusive resort that they rented in Batangas. He was sitting on one of the benches, sniffing with the pack of tissue that Bianca had left him before she went to get someone to help.

“Hi,” he smiled, sitting next to him. Cielo was surprised to see Leon next to him that he jumped a bit when he heard his sister's soon-to-be husband. “Still worried about your Ate Ellie, no?”

Cielo nodded in honesty. Leon would not help but notice how adorable he was, realizing how much he is like his sister. So emotional and sensitive. Even the way they talk is so similar he finds it uncanny sometimes. It really shows how involved Eli was in his life. She did raise him after all, more than their own parents did, which only made Eli even more beautiful in his eyes despite not being able to see her since yesterday. At such a young age, Elijah raised this emotionally intelligent and sensitive young boy, which turned out to be one of the warmest people he ever met in his life. 

“Please don’t take my ate away,” he sniffled, pulling yet another tissue from the pack to wipe his tears and blow his nose. “I don’t wanna be left alone.”

“Ellie is still going to be Ellie, Cielo,” Leon chuckled, putting a comforting arm around the younger. “Wala akong inaagaw. She’s still gonna be there for you the moment you ask her to. Kailan ba humindi ang ate mo sa’yo, ha?”

Even before Eli moved out for college, she was there for him. Natrouble that school? Eli would be there. Naiwan ang baon sa bahay? It’s alright, Eli will just buy him new food or give him money. Nakalimutan magsabi na kailangan ng illustration board or ng cartolina kinabukasan, don’t fret, Ate Eli would be there before the time period when you need it with anything you might need. Eli always showed love by being there and doing things for other people. Everyone pretty much knew that. So it’s a surprise that Cielo is worried that she’s not going to be there as much for him when she gets married when it’s always been him who’s always at the top of her priority list.

“When you have children, she’s not going love me as much,” he sobbed, body shaking as he finally says what his main worry was.

Leon sighed. “I doubt we’re gonna have children until you’re ready, Cielo.”

“Hindi naman kasi para sa akin ang desisyon na ‘yon, kuya,” he argued.

“Yes, it’s for us to make. But knowing your ate, she’s not gonna do it until kaya mo na ng wala s’ya.”

“I’m always going to need, Ate.”

“Maybe just until you need your Ate Ellie less,” he smiled at him. “We’re young, Cielo, and at the peaks of our careers. Trust me when I say na hindi pa kami rin ready rin na magkaroon ng anak. So if waiting for you will be our sign to actually be ready, then you’re doing us a favor.”

“Are you really going to wait for me?”

Leon nodded and before he knew it, Cielo’s arms were around him already. “Thank you, Kuya.”

—

“You may now say your vows,” the officiant then steps aside before Leon takes the mic and opens his card that is eloquently decorated, a design that Elijah remembers she drew herself during the week that they were asked not to go to work because of the incident.

“Ellie,” he starts with a heavy sigh, before shaking his hands to relieve himself of his nerves. “Don’t worry, hindi naman ako kinakabahan dahil hindi ako sure. Kinakabahan lang ako baka kasi magkamali ako and I don’t want to mess it up.”

The crowd laughed at his remark before he glanced at her parents before glancing back at her. “It’s been approximately 23 years since I’ve had the privilege of meeting you. You have been my best friend ever since I could remember having one. And I must say 13-year-old Leon would go full on cardiac arrest if he found out that this would happen. That 10 years later, I would be standing in front of our loved ones, reciting my vows to you. That being said, I promise to always scour the internet and everyone and their mom just so I would know how to cook whatever you are craving the way you want it to. I promise to wait, everytime, especially when you’re still afraid to tell the truth. I promise to sit with you until you’ve already recovered from your emotions. I promise to always drive back 2 hours, give or take, whenever you forget something at home. I can promise so many more things but I’m afraid, for once, to say it. Hindi dahil hindi ko kayang gawin. Natatakot ako na baka hindi ko masabi lahat. Dahil d’yan, I must repeat a promise that I have already made before just to remind you that if you want me to, I will, dahil ikaw ang palaging masusunod. Ellie, I promise to never let you work for anything ever again unless you really want to. I know you come from a long line of families who worked hard for what they have right now, but Ellie, I promise to never let you work to be loved ever again. I promise to never let you try at all to be someone that people would love, dahil hindi na’tin sila kabati kapag hindi ka nila gusto. I promise to never leave your side ever again or ever meet death face to face again unless you tell me that you are ready for it. And although I don’t have to promise it, I promise to love you, always, in your highs and lows, and occasionally in the in betweens. I promise to be there, or here, or anywhere you want us to be dahil sa totoo lang, masaya na ako na magkasama tayo. Iyo ako, Ellie, palagi.”

“Hala,” Ellie sniffed as Ynes ran in front with a box of tissues to hand Ellie. “OMG ka, thank you, babes.”

“How do I start this, wait lang naiiyak talaga ako.”

“I can wait, baby,” he chuckled, reaching for her hand and squeezing it before she let out a heavy breath, gathering herself. “Okay na?”

Eli nodded before finally letting his hand go and opening her card. “I still wonder up until now how we always end up in the same route, to that house by the beach in Batangas, and somehow things would be alright when we go back. If I had known that pattern I wouldn’t have spent four longing years without you, because those years burrowed the pain so deeply inside me that it felt normal. And you waltzing back in my life like it was fucking nothing made me so mad because it felt like you were uprooting that pain again that I so badly didn’t want to feel ever again. But now that it’s uprooted and thrown way past me, I realized why it had to be done. I was never going to heal if the one causing the pain was still in me and really, thank you, because even if you don’t try, even if you just sit there yapping about how annoying I am for always insisting to do things for you, for always working for things I can just ask for, for making myself think that I am less than how you see me, you heal me, Leon. Every bruise and wound, somehow feels so much better when you’re the one who makes it feel better.”

“When we were young, Myla told us that it was possible that love was born at the same time that humanity emerged and it never stopped existing from then. It was as if humans were made to love. I was too young to realize it back then, but now that I’m old enough to admit it, Leon, I have known love ever since the day we first met. I had a clear vision of what love was like with you. I remember this memory with you in a preppy preschool daycare and me being the push over little kid that I am did what every little kid there asked me to and while now that I’ve thought of this, nothing was wrong with conformity, you took my hand back then and told the kids to do it themselves. Then it was you stepping in front of me when I was being bullied in Elementary school, then it was you always picking me in group activities because people would just ask me to do it on my own when we were in High School. You’ve protected me from things that could hurt me because as you said, there’s already too much pain in me for some lazy lowlife to add more into it. You’ve always made space for me to grow. I used to think it was unfair why you chose to let me go during college but now that I’ve reframed it, I realized that I needed that growing space. And even though it hurt you too and you were a little bitch to not admit it right away, thank you so much for giving me that space to grow. So I promise to protect you too, in the most deranged ways that you could think of. I promise to send anyone who tries to hurt you bankrupt. I promise to hold you when you’re full of emotions too. I promise to kiss you good night and good morning or whenever you ask for it. I promise to actually play the games that you put on my computer. I promise na hindi na ako magiiwan ng gamit sa bahay para wala ka nang babalikan. I promise na hindi ko na tutulugan ang mga pinapanood mo. I promise to take care of you, even when you object. I promise to get better, everyday, for you and for the life we’ll live from now on. Because in the same way that humans were made to love, when love emerged at the same time as humanity, it must not be a coincidence that I knew love from the very first day I met you. I was made for loving you, Leon and all is well if it ends well with you. Kaya pinapangako ko, na magduda man, magtaka man, maligaw o mawala man, ang bawat daan ko, Leon, ay palaging pabalik sa’yo.”

continue here (bianca and eli's conversation)

Bianca engulfed her sister-in-law in a warm embrace as soon as she opened the door. Soon after that, sniffles followed as her hold only got tighter.

The two sat there and talked about everything. Even going as far as talking about her recent split up with Liz Sim that broke Elijah half as much as it broke Bianca. It turned out that after Eli sent their company in the States bankrupt, Liz blasted her about how cruel and evil her family was—especially Elijah. And as cold as Bianca’s demeanor may be, she did not know how to take all the words said to Ellie not after everything she learned about what Liz’s family did to her Ate Ellie.

“It’s gonna be alright, bunso,” Ellie smiled at her kissing the side of her head as she cried, make-up now half ruined from all the crying she’s done. “Right now, let’s just enjoy the night, alright? We’re gonna meet people out there that’s going to treat us so much better than they did.”

“Right, hindi na’tin sila kabati,” Bianca sniffed, reaching for her handbag to retouch her makeup. 

Ellie chuckles at her. It really can’t be denied that Bianca really was raised on Leon and Tobi’s back, because behind all that cold demeanor is a childish heart that is sensitive and will break at the mere sight of their loved ones getting hurt. Leon mentioned before that he was afraid that maybe Bianca was growing up to be hard and cold, unlike how he sees Cielo, who was the complete opposite. Right now, Ellie really can’t understand why he thinks that way, because all three of them are just softies hiding behind cold facial expressions. 

“Let me help you with that,” Ellie smiled, picking up the makeup from the younger’s bag to help her do her retouches.

As soon as they were back, even with Leon still not being able to read Bianca’s messages earlier, he already knew Bianca had just finished crying. After all, he can feel his sister’s mood even from a mile away. It’s not hard to do for him anyway, especially when he had to study her facial expressions even as a baby just to know what she could possibly need even if they had nannies to do that for them.

“Girl talk, kuya,” Bianca told him right away before he could even ask. “Wag mo na muna tanungin kung anong pinagusapan namin, bukas mo na alamin.”

“Alright, well, can I have my wife back?” He chuckled at her. Bianca made a face and let go of Ellie’s hand, handing it over to her brother.

“All yours,” just then Alonzo Park arrives and asks for a dance with her youngest daughter leaving the newlyweds with each other.

“Hindi n’yo talaga sasabihin sa akin?” he asked, even trying to make puppy dog eyes to convince his wife to tell him, but Ellie already promised she would let Leon find out for himself so she really wasn’t going to say anything. So she shrugged her head.

“Did you have your things good to go na for Balesin?” Ellie asked them, starting to worry that they’d be late for everything as they’d be heading straight to their honeymoon destination straight after the party.

“Baby, Balesin is owned by Amina Myoi, what are you worrying about?” Leon laughed.

“Oh my god, Leon, don’t tell me hindi mo pa inaayos?”

Leon laughed at her wife even more before planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Naayos ko na po. Okay na, pinakaba lang kita.”

“I’m just saying na ayoko lang na makaabala tayo sa iba natin na kasama,” Ellie rolled her eyes at him. “Especially when your cousins offered pa to be the ones to bring us there! I don’t want them to think-”

“Anong sabi na’tin tungkol sa iisipin ng iba?” Leon cuts her off with a cheeky grin on his face, knowing all too well that it was discussed in front of everyone in their vows earlier.

“Yeah, whatever, it’s me you have to worry about. I don’t like being late, alam mo ‘yon,” Elijah replied to him.

—

“Baby,” Ellie calls out sternly as Leon plants yet another kiss on her neck while they were waiting in the private lounge of the airport waiting for their boarding time. “Keep your hands to yourself muna, please.”

While most of the people in the lounge were just their friends, they had some family members joining them too which meant that their little siblings could see Leon as bright as day, well, literally unable to keep his hands to himself. “Kahit ba quickie lang sa cr, baby?”

“I’m gonna have to keep you waiting, Leon. I’m sorry,” she chuckled at her husband, visibly in distress from how long he already has been holding himself back. He has already been planning how to ruin her the moment they left the wedding reception and it’s taking too much time waiting in this godforsaken lounge with so many people. 

For a good moment he regrets agreeing that they should come in the getaway destination after considering that they could literally have an entire villa to themselves and fuck the living daylights out of each other without being disrupted. His patience was running thin but he knew he had to be on his best behavior if he wanted to keep Ellie’s mood to its crisp condition right now if he wanted to get what he’s been fantasizing about for 4 hours already.

“Leon, calm the fuck down,” Ellie curses as soon as Leon pushes her down the white duvet, not seeming to give a flying fuck if they were on the bed with their outside clothes on. 

“I’m not sure if I can do that, baby,” he smirked as he hungrily pressed his lips against her, hands stealthily picking on the buttons of her light blue shirt.

“I’m all yours, love,” she chuckled, holding his face on both sides, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were dilated, blasted with both pure adoration at the woman lying under him, for the first time while they’re at their intimate activities. “Take your time, please?”

Leon then pauses, looks Ellie straight in the eye trying to see if there was hesitation lingering in her expression. There wasn’t, which was confusing to Leon, but he didn’t want to do anything that would make Eli uncomfortable. A blush creeped into her face when she realized that she might have to explain herself. 

“Are you okay, baby? P’wede naman bukas na kapag okay ka na?”

Oh god. Ellie just wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole when Leon blurted that out.

How the fuck is it possible to explain that she was fully aware how fucking big he was and she had been questioning every saint she knew of if she was capable to taking that big of a body part inside her? 

Elijah shrugged, eyes glossing in embarrassment as she tried to hide her face. 

“Baby, we can do it some other time, it’s okay-”

“No,” Eli retorts immediately, pushing herself up to a sitting position as she gathers up courage to actually say it.

“Are you sure? Saka nalang, baby–”

“Leon,” she calls, holding his face once again, forcing him to focus on her, leaning in to kiss him once again. “I want to do it, baby.” She mumbles quietly, as she turns to kiss his neck before nestling her face perfectly between the space connecting his neck and shoulder blades.

“What’s holding you back, Ellie?” he finally asks his wife, trying to pull her away from his neck but the younger remains unmoving. “Hmm?”

“I haven’t done it with anyone for quite some time,” she hummed. “And you’re malaki, Leon. I don’t want it to hurt.”

“You think it’s going to hurt?” he chuckles, finally managing to pull her away to kiss her once more making Ellie hummed against the kiss. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t take that as a compliment—the fact that she thinks he is big and the fact that she’s still willing to do it despite the impediment of it possibly hurting her.  “You want me to make it hurt less?”

“Please?” She looked at him, eyes round and glossy which really is just the most enticing thing Leon has ever seen her do.

“Okay,” Leon smiled at her fondly before carefully laying her down once again, kissing her slowly, lips moving in sync as his hands travel down to her jeans, fiddling on the silver button before finally pulling down the cold zipper.

continue here: honeymoon avenue (password authenticated; clue: color of ellie's engagement ring, 3 words, english, 15 letters, no spaces)

continue here (keeping up with the yangs chaos)

continue here (housemates' gc)

continue here (leon and eli's convo)

“Oh, bakit umiiyak ka nanaman?” Leon asked as soon as he entered the room after brushing his teeth in the bathroom. They had just come back from dinner and Elijah was, at most, tipsy from the Sangria that was served earlier.  “Bakit ka umiiyak?”

Ellie looks at him with a look that assures him that she’s not hurt. She’s just overwhelmed with emotions that feel too big for her own heart to process. Considering the amount of Sangria she had consumed with the girls earlier, her emotions were just flowing out of her. “Si iyakin talaga,” he chuckled before crawling on the bed, over the fresh bed sheets that were changed when they were in dinner.

“I’m just really happy,” she mumbled before climbing on Leon’s lap to hug him properly for comfort while Leon does what he does best, giving her deep compression by squeezing her. “I can’t believe everything turned out okay. I really hoped it was going to be okay.”

Everything was all so overwhelming but she knew she was safe. At last. All the pain, all the wandering around aimlessly in life—everything seemed to be falling back into place, here with the love of her life, holding her like nothing can take her away. 

And she really hoped it would be like that.

Because then, she knows that this was the agony was for and it was all worth it.

All that matters is that it ended up here where she is celebrated for her mere existence and for the love that she gives—it doesn’t even matter how much there is to share, the mere fact that there is love is already celebrated.

She’s finally where she truly belongs. Back to where all the turns and roundabouts lead her to. 

“I love you,” he hums, against her shoulder as he calms her down from her emotions.

Home.

“I love you, Leon.” she mumbled.

Back to Leon.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ characters ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ previous ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ main post ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch2

“Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read chapter one here. this part won’t make sense, otherwise! :$ 

[ao3 version of the fic]

reader’s pronouns are unspecified but masa-intended. 

warnings: canon-typical violence & gore, spoilers to the first few episodes

You wake to find yourself resting on the plush sofa in the living room. You’re in virtually the same position as before, except there’s a woolen blanket tossed over you. It takes you several seconds to process everything and, once you do, you freeze. Your unintentional adventure onto the middle of the road, Hannibal’s rather convenient appearance, your trip back to Hannibal’s home. And…  

Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. You take a deep breath in, not very fond of the way your heart is racing. You were entirely vulnerable last night; he could’ve killed you with ease. That begs the question: Why didn’t he? Why didn’t Hannibal take the opportunity to take you out? Surely, the FBI being close on his trail must be aggravating. Then again, the Ripper has always acted as if he’s several steps ahead of everyone else (and, unfortunately, he often is). You ponder the thought for a moment longer, before quickly distracting yourself. You don’t want to think about it for a while—it’s too disturbing to contemplate so early in the morning.

Once you feel slightly better—you’re not sure if you’ll ever grow truly comfortable with the events of the past night—you get to your feet and pace around the room. Honestly, you’re not entirely familiar with the layout of Hannibal’s home. Plus, you hadn’t exactly had the chance to look around last night. There’s a door off to the side that must lead to the kitchen. You hesitate for a few seconds, before shaking your head, clasping the doorknob, and twisting it open. The door falls open to reveal a beautiful kitchen. You’re then struck with the uncanny resemblance to a theater. Perhaps that was the idea. Cooking is a performance to Hannibal, after all.

“What did you put in that tea?” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. Hannibal stands with his back to you, but he quickly turns upon hearing you enter. He’s wearing a suit already. You feel immensely underdressed, in your filthy pajamas from the previous night. You resolutely pretend not to look as uncomfortable as you feel.

“Good morning to you, too,” Hannibal responds, an amused expression on your face. His sleeves are rolled up as he continues to prepare whatever he’s making. You can’t shake the belief that he must be absolutely furious with you. Hannibal values his privacy, his space, and you’re intruding on it. You’re not quite sure why he hasn’t killed you yet.

“I’m serious,” you frown. The thought hadn’t graced your mind until now, but you can’t seem to rid yourself of it. How did you fall asleep so quickly last night? You were extremely fatigued, of course. However, you suspect Hannibal had something to do with it, too. “What was in the tea?”

“Chamomile,” Hannibal answers with a helpless expression. You’re not convinced, not even when he’s smiling like that. He walks out to the dining room and you follow behind him. “Breakfast?” You warily glance down at the plate on the table, only to find an innocent enough egg scramble. It’s reminiscent of what you ate that one morning in the motel, except without the suspicious meat. You have to consciously push away the thought—the likelihood that the meat was from one of the Ripper’s recent victims. The egg scramble today doesn’t have meat—at least, not that you can see. You inhale slowly and sit down at the place he’s set for you.

“No suitable candidates for meat?” You can’t help but snipe. It takes your mind a few minutes to recognize the fact that you have no power in this situation and, thus, you shouldn’t be pushing the limits. You chance a glance up at Hannibal, fully prepared to see an irritated expression. Instead, all you see is amusement and intrigue. You’re not sure which expression is more dangerous.

“The harvest wasn’t quite bountiful,” Hannibal responds. How on earth hadn’t you made the connection to the Chesapeake Ripper sooner? Hannibal is constantly making those kinds of comments—allusions that just barely scrape the surface of his true actions. Before, you merely thought him to be an eccentric European. Now, you can’t help but think that his eccentricities mask his brutalities–his actions as a killer.

“You garden?” You say, instead of throwing out the accusation you know to be true. If Hannibal wants to play this game, then so be it. You take a bite of the egg scramble, unsurprised that it turns out to be quite good. Hannibal is an excellent cook—at least, when he isn’t putting people on the menu.

“Occasionally,” Hannibal remarks loftily. He finishes chewing and levels you with a strange look. “Nothing measures up to the quality of homegrown herbs.” You let out a breath through your nose, hiding a full laugh. Of course, Hannibal is pretentious about his herbs. That makes complete sense. You wisely keep quiet and take another bite of your food, making sure to compliment Hannibal on his cooking skills. He really is quite good.

“I was hoping you could drive me back to the institute,” you say, once the two of you have finished breakfast. You feel guilty about asking so much of Hannibal but, then again, he insisted that you come with him to his residence. “I don’t have my car, so…”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods, making your doubts diminish. You exhale slowly. You aren’t sure why you worked yourself up so much over that simple question. The clatter of plates draws you out of that spiraling thought process and you watch as Hannibal moves to stack his dishes.

“Here, let me,” you say before he can object. You quickly take his dishes and walk them over to the sink. Thankfully, there aren’t too many dishes—just yours and his. You find a strange-looking brush and internally hope it’s a sponge, before drowning it in soap and attacking the plates. Silence settles in the space as you busy yourself with the dishes. Hannibal walks over to you and leans against the counter a few feet from the sink. He levels you with an inquisitive gaze.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, once the staring begins to stress you out. You steadily focus on the running water, the dirty plates, anything but Hannibal’s keen eyes. Droplets of water fall down your skin as you steadily wash the last remaining dish, shelving it to put away later.

“I’d like to accompany you on your next assignment.” That completely throws you off. You don’t hesitate to ask for an explanation, which Hannibal doesn’t exactly provide. Instead, he paces around for a moment before leveling you with a weighted gaze. “Only if you’re amenable, of course.”

“Okay,” you decide to say, instead of arguing like you want to. Hannibal doesn’t typically budge when his mind is made up. Ironically, it appears as if Hannibal expected you to argue, because he raises his eyebrows for a second. You decide to ignore that. “Before we go… Do you have any clothes I could wear?”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods. You want to feel self conscious, but it’s a bit too late for that. You’ve been wearing your dirty pajamas since the night before, so the psychiatrist has already seen them. Hannibal leaves the room with the promise of bringing you sufficient attire. You just hope that the clothes aren’t extravagant.

Hannibal returns moments later with a neatly folded pile of clothing in his hands. He offers you the clothes and you take them. You hardly get the chance to unfold them before you’re freezing to stare up at your psychiatrist. “Um, Hannibal?”

“Yes?” Hannibal asks casually, calm and composed as always. Silence descends in the air, creating a thick tension that you’re scared to break through.  

“I didn’t mean you had to give me nice clothes,” you manage to say, looking at the dress shirt and pants he’s provided you.

“Nonsense,” Hannibal shakes his head. There’s clearly something he’s refraining from telling you, because his lips part for a moment as if to speak. The psychiatrist then shakes his head. You shrug silently, glancing around the space. There’s a hallway off to the side and you take a step in that direction.

“I’ll change and then… we can go?” Hannibal nods and you duck into the nearest room, closing the door behind you. Upon closer examination, you realize that it’s a linen closet. However, it’s not like a typical linen closet—a bureau or dresser; instead, it’s an entire room. You exhale slowly and put on the clothes he’s given you. You're surprised to find that they fit perfectly. Why or how he has clothing in your precise measurements, you're not quite sure. You take a moment to fix up your appearance before stepping back out into the hallway.

Hannibal turns around when he evidently hears you exit the linen closet. There’s a satisfied expression on his face. You hastily button the sleeves and straighten out your shirt—well, the shirt he gave you. Before you can adjust the fabric more, Hannibal leans closer and smoothing out your collar. You send him a grateful smile that you hope will hide your anxiety at his proximity. Thankfully, he’s backing away before long and the two of you are free to walk out to his driveway. Hannibal pauses for a moment and you just narrowly avoid running into him.

“Shit, sorry,” you murmur, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. The man walks to the passenger side first and opens the car door for you. You move to sit and Hannibal looks down at you from where he’s standing.

“Apologizing again?” There’s an abstruse smile on his face as he speaks. You roll your eyes.

“I wasn’t aware this was a therapy session,” you reply with a wan smile. Hannibal shakes his head in amusement, walking back to the driver’s side and getting in. Luckily, the ensuing car ride is smooth and painless. Before long, the two of you are at the crime scene that Jack summoned you to. You exit the car and take the lead, leaving Hannibal to follow behind you. Jack is standing off to the side with a concentrated expression on his face. You greet him and he snaps out of his reverie. It seems like your boss is about to say something to you when his gaze suddenly falls to the space next to you.

“Ah, Doctor Lecter,” Jack smiles thinly. “What a pleasant surprise.” The look on Jack’s face suggests that it isn’t, in fact, a pleasant surprise. You can’t say you’re terribly surprised at that development.

“Hello, Jack,” Hannibal responds amicably. You can’t quite elucidate the expression on his face. “I must insist that you call me Hannibal.” The man smiles charmingly, a gesture that would work on most people. Unfortunately for him, Jack Crawford isn’t most people. You resist a laugh at the annoyance that just barely shows through on your boss’s face.

“Hannibal, then; what brings you here?” Jack looks at Hannibal warily. Just before the psychiatrist can respond, you decide to interject.

“I brought him,” you blurt out before your brain can catch up. Jack blinks at you in confusion. You chance a glance at Hannibal and raise your eyebrows at him, trying to telepathically communicate that he should go along with it. The man nods ever so slightly. “I figured we could use the help.” Jack assesses you for a second.

“Don’t distract my best agent,” Jack then warns Hannibal. You immediately grimace, knowing that the statement is entirely unnecessary. The likelihood of Hannibal distracting anyone working is slim to none. Also, wait... Jack considers you his best agent? That’s certainly unexpected.

Thankfully, Hannibal doesn’t seem to be too bothered by Jack’s remark. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he expected a warning along those lines. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hannibal remarks smoothly. You decide to walk down the path towards the house, Hannibal in tow. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his unanswered questions lingering in the air. You take a deep breath.

“Jack gets antsy at crime scenes,” you explain, trying to contextualize why you lied about being the one to bring Hannibal along, when, in all reality, it was Hannibal’s idea. You shove your hands in your pockets, feeling the need to find something to channel your restless energy into. “I’m used to being on the receiving end of his rather short fuse.”

“Interesting,” Hannibal muses, falling into step next to you, “I wouldn’t have gathered that from our interaction. He seems to think rather highly of you.” You chuckle wryly under your breath.

“Lord knows why,” you mutter, continuing to walk towards the house. You don’t intend for your comment to be perceived, but Hannibal seems to hear it regardless. You fidget and ignore the discomfort tugging at your core.

“As a friend, I must point out that you’re quite skilled in the field,” Hannibal remarks, to your utter surprise. It takes all of your energy to maintain a neutral expression. Despite your efforts, your eyes widen. “Jack likely appreciates your work etiquette and talent.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” you frown, letting your gaze fall to the cobbled path below your feet. You kick at one of the upended rocks and it goes skittering along in front of you. Hannibal is your psychiatrist—he’s supposed to say things like that. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, though.” Hannibal’s expression suggests that this won’t be the last time you have this conversation. You resist a shudder at that, imagining sitting in Hannibal’s office and being forced to pick apart your self-deprecation. 

You finally enter the house and begin to wind through the halls, listening for voices. Eventually, you manage to find the scene of the crime: the master bedroom. The victim’s corpse lies against the mattress. Their blood seeps through the white sheets and spreads out around them, creating a puddled effect. Perhaps the most noticeable thing, however, is the gruesome way in which the victim’s chest is torn open, leaving the organs on display for all to see. You don’t realize that you’re blocking the doorway until Hannibal places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Following his movement, you step aside to let him in. There’s no trace of emotion anywhere on Hannibal’s face as he takes in the corpse of the victim.

“Hey!” Beverly greets you, breaking you out of your thoughts. The agent gets to her feet and grabs her clipboard. You greet Beverly in response. She smiles at you, then looks at Hannibal for a moment. Her gaze is scrutinizing and suspicious. “What’s he doing here?”

“Dr. Lecter, psychiatrist and former surgeon,” Hannibal introduces himself, before you can answer. “Please call me Hannibal.” Beverly raises an eyebrow at his outstretched hand but shakes it, albeit begrudgingly. You decide to interrupt before she can ask the question you’re expecting.

“He has clearance,” you say. Your comment goes mostly unnoticed, as Beverly and Hannibal appear to size each other up. Your two most terrifying acquaintances are now meeting. You begin to regret everything that’s led you to this moment.

“Former surgeon,” Beverly repeats, staring at Hannibal in disbelief. You look at your friend, begging her not to say what you think she’s about to say. Unfortunately, Beverly doesn’t seem to care about your distress. She swivels to focus her attention on Hannibal. “What, did you kill someone?”

“Bev,” you groan, wanting to bury your head in your hands. Beverly has never been quite good at filtering her thoughts—always saying whatever’s on her mind. Normally, that’s just one of the many things you love about her. Right now, however, you wish Beverly had a better filter.

“No, I did not,” Hannibal responds, his eyes glittering. There’s nothing but politeness in his frame, but you can sense an aura of irritation emanating from him. You resist the urge to laugh. You felt remarkably similar upon first meeting Beverly, because her blunt honesty can easily come across as rude.

“Well, since you have clearance, Lecter… I guess you can stay,” Beverly says to Hannibal. You chuckle under your breath at the way Beverly refuses to call him by his first name. The thinly concealed annoyance on Hannibal’s face is equally amusing. Beverly then turns to you. “Anyway. Time to do your thing?” Beverly asks. You nod and she walks over to Price and Zeller, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Let’s give him some space.” She sends you an understanding smile, which you return with an exasperated eye roll. Beverly then raises an eyebrow at Hannibal, evidently expecting him to leave with them. Your friend turns to you and squints between the two of you, before shrugging and taking her leave.

“I prefer to do this alone,” you murmur, after the weight of Hannibal’s gaze grows to be too much. The air between you feels charged and tense. You clench your fists at your sides and listen for his footsteps as he exits the room. You wait a few moments and turn around, only to find that the man hasn’t moved.

“I will not be a bother,” Hannibal says. You resist the compelling urge to argue. It’s not that big of a deal, really. It’ll make you uncomfortable, but you can still slip into the killer’s mind with someone else in the room. Besides, Hannibal is your psychiatrist, after all. Nothing he sees will disturb him.

“Fine,” you sigh. It’s not like Hannibal will witness much, anyway—other than you staring off into space. Resolved to your fate, you pinch the bridge of your nose. The pendulum swings before your eyes once more. You close your eyes and, when you open them again, the bedroom is empty.

The victim sits on the mattress, looking down at their phone. You approach them with a knife in hand. You’re not fond of guns—they create too much of a mess. You’re eerily silent, enough so that the victim doesn’t expect your appearance [they never do]. An unsettling prickling feeling runs down your skin, creating goosebumps and sending a shiver down your spine. For a second, you’re struck with the uncanny belief that the victim sees you for who you are. The sensation is gone a moment later, as you realize they still haven’t noticed your presence. Heart thudding loudly in your chest, you reach out and stab them in the back of the neck. The victim flails and you turn them around, shoving them into the mattress before stabbing them once more in the chest. They’re dead within a few seconds. The prickling feeling along your skin hasn’t gone away, even with their death. Weirdly enough, the victim almost looks at peace—if not for the wounds to the back of their neck and their chest. You plunge your trembling hands into their chest and pull. Their blood taints your skin a murky red. The victim is open and vulnerable; their organs are on display for all to see.

Something still isn’t right, though. Anger bubbling up in your chest, you rip their eyeballs out of their sockets. Blood seeps out of their eyes and you streak it downwards across their face—an uncanny resemblance to tears. You put your knife away and survey your masterpiece one last time. This is your design. You glance down at your hands, expecting to see them stained with crimson. They’re clean and unmarred. That’s strange.

“What do you see?” Hannibal asks. You can’t suppress a flinch as you’re roughly brought back to the present. You blink several times and shake your head to clear your thoughts. “See?” Your eyes take in the strange painting the killer has made: the blood streaked across the victim’s skin, the pathway to the heart being ripped right open. It doesn’t take long for you to come up with an answer.

“This killer is at a crossroads,” you frown. You can feel the emotion rolling off of this corpse and each mutilation feels symbolic of something. Even without slipping into the killer’s skin, you could see the anger, irritation, and discomfort. “He feels… vulnerable, perceived in ways he hasn’t been perceived before.”

“How do you reckon so?” Hannibal asks, a strange note of something intangible in his voice. You can’t quite tell, but his voice almost seems sharper. You push the thought aside; you have more things to worry about—namely, the murder scene in front of your very eyes.

“The chest is carved open, yet the heart is left entirely intact,” you tap your chin in contemplation as you look down at the corpse. “It’s unusual for the organs to remain, but that omission was a conscious decision. Furthermore, the eyes are gouged out. He could have left them as is, but he took an extra step and smeared the blood down the cheeks to resemble tears. It speaks of grief. Possibly, also, acceptance? I’m not really sure. This feels… weirdly intimate.”

“Intimate,” Hannibal repeats, evidently intrigued. You take a shuddering breath as the man takes a step further into the room and, subsequently, closer to you. “Few can see past the initial brutality of such an act.” He looks down at the victim’s body, entirely unperturbed. His eyes are fixed on the body like a moth drawn to a flame.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” you start, walking around to the side of the bed to look down at the victim. “This feels like a reckoning. The killer is coming to terms with who he is, while simultaneously reaching for something more. It’s a strange juxtaposition: contentment and yearning.”

“Incredible,” Hannibal whispers, his eyes wide with an unrecognizable emotion. The sight grows to be too much and you rip your eyes away. The room’s air feels heated and stifling all of a sudden. You feel at your temple, recognizing the beginning of a headache.

“I suppose it is, in a gruesome way,” you frown, taking a look at the victim one last time. There is a sort of absurd beauty in the way they are laid to rest. Their heart is no longer caged by ribs and skin—it is free to roam. There’s even a restful expression on their face. “I can certainly feel the emotion embedded in the details.”

“I was referring to you,” Hannibal murmurs, drawing you from your thoughts. You look over at him, only to be met with a gaze so intense that it nearly makes your knees buckle. You take a half-step backwards habitually, nearly knocking into the bedside table. The look on his face is nothing short of dangerous. Thankfully, you’re saved from responding by Beverly’s sudden entrance into the room.

“Find anything?” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You relay your findings to Beverly, Price, and Zeller, who all look significantly intrigued and disturbed at the same time. Price and Zeller then go over some of the forensic evidence they found. Eventually, the four of you decide to let Price and Zeller brief Jack on the new findings. Hannibal walks outside—evidently to get some fresh air—which leaves you and Beverly alone in the room.

“Hey, Bev, do you have aspirin?” You ask, feeling a familiar pulsing ache in your temple. You find that slipping into the mind of the killer often makes your head spin. It almost feels as if someone is hammering into your skull. You grasp the side table to steady yourself.

“Yeah,” Beverly nods, digging around in her satchel. You breathe a sigh of relief. “You gotta remember to bring some with you, dude.”

“I know,” you sigh heavily. Beverly then pulls out a capsule of aspirin. You smile gratefully and grab two pills, before handing it back to her. It takes you a moment to remember that you don’t have water. Thankfully, Beverly procures a water bottle for you–not without a remark about you being forgetful–and you take the pills.

“Anyway, what’s Lecter’s deal?” You frown at Beverly’s back. She’s bent over the victim’s body, evidently looking for traces of evidence left behind. You already have a bad feeling that she won’t be able to find anything. “He’s a little weird.”

“I’m a little weird, too,” you argue, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. Beverly’s gaze finally falls away from the victim and she stops bending down, instead looking at you for a moment. For a few seconds, the two of you are left staring at each other.  

“No, you’re very weird,” Beverly then counters, a mischievous smile on her face. You slap her shoulder playfully, which prompts her to let out a dramatic hiss of pain. “Whatever. As long as he doesn’t get in the way, I don’t really care.”

“That’s the Bev I know and love,” you grin. You take a peek out into the hallway, only to find that Hannibal is nowhere to be found. Shit, you realize. He was your ride. You bite your lip and turn to Beverly, who still looks rather proud of herself. “Hey, on an unrelated note… can you drive me home?”

“Wow, trying to flatter me into giving you a ride?” Beverly laughs. You realize your blunder and you quickly stammer out an apology, but your effort only makes Bev laugh harder. It takes a few moments for her to evidently catch her breath.  “I’m just messing with you; I should be able to drive you.”

“Awesome, thanks,” you reply breathlessly. “I’ll just need to speak to Jack and then I’ll be done.” Beverly nods and returns to her work. You’re sure that you could scream at her and she wouldn’t notice—that’s just how concentrated she gets at crime scenes. You decide to stick around for a while longer to conduct your own investigation. Together, the two of you spend an immeasurable amount of time performing tests and examining the corpse. You’re not even aware of time passing until Beverly’s phone goes off and she informs you that it’s getting late. This time, you walk out to meet Jack and deliver the news. You find your boss standing out in the front lawn, ordering some officers around. The poor guys, you shake your head in sympathy. Jack must sense your approach, because he turns around and levels you with an expectant gaze.

“Bev and I performed some tests,” you start, already dreading this conversation. You’ve learned that Jack has begun to expect far too much from you. You can always glean details from the killers, sure, but your method is far from perfect. There are always holes in the logic you acquire. “Ultimately, we’re looking for a middle-aged man. He works some sort of day job… maybe a businessman? He has a wife and a daughter.”

“That’s not enough,” Jack interjects predictably.

“It’s going to have to be,” you respond, staring back at him. Unfortunately, that’s all you found. Jack will have to make do with that information. More accurately, your team will have to make do with that information. You’re certain it won’t be long before you find the killer, though; Beverly, Price, and Zeller are all talented forensic experts. Jack seems to come to that same conclusion, although he clearly isn’t happy about it. Your boss asks you a few more questions—most of which you’re unable to answer—until he frees you from duty.

Finally, you can get back home. It’s been a long day. You take a few steps towards the front door of the home to get Beverly when you feel eyes digging into your back. You turn around instinctually, only to find Hannibal staring at you from his car. You return his gaze for a second, before realizing that he seems to be summoning you closer. After walking over, you lean into the open window on the passenger side and grin awkwardly. Hannibal’s gaze shifts from you to the empty passenger seat of his car and you begin to connect the dots.

“Bev’s going to give me a ride…” You smile, resisting the urge to itch the back of your neck amidst the awkward tension.

“I’ll drive you home,” Hannibal remarks, apropos of your statement. His voice is entirely assertive and you find yourself agreeing with him habitually. You manage to grab Beverly’s attention and point at Hannibal’s car. She raises her eyebrows suggestively and, in a fit of exasperation, you send her a vulgar hand gesture. Beverly quickly returns the gesture before waving. You roll your eyes and get into the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car. Before long, you’re on the open road.

The ride is mostly silent. Most of the time, you’d feel pressured to fill that silence with something. With Hannibal, however, the silence is comfortable. That recognition is startling and it nearly forces your next words out of your mouth.“Thanks for, well, everything.”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods, his eyes fixated on the road. In the darkness, they hold a dangerous metallic gleam. Your gaze falls down to his hands grasping the steering wheel. Just how many lives have those hands taken? How many times have they been stained with blood and marked with violence? The thought makes your stomach turn a little. You decide to focus your attention elsewhere.

Before long, Hannibal is pulling into your driveway. You immediately unbuckle your seat and move to grasp the door handle, but the man places a hand on your shoulder. Confused, you remain seated and watch as he walks around the car. Hannibal then opens the car door for you.

“Thanks, Hannibal,” you murmur, pushing yourself up and out of the car. Somehow, this leads to you standing quite close to the man, only separated by the car door. Your fingers twitch as you grasp the door. Hannibal’s gaze doesn’t falter in intensity and you suddenly need an escape.“See you later.” The moment is broken and you push the door closed. Hannibal nods and makes his way back to the driver’s seat. You stand in the driveway and watch as the sleek car pulls away, driving off until it entirely disappears from your view.

chapter 3

I feel like there is a lot of unmasked potential regarding Beverly and Hannibal… I think they’d get along rly well. They’re definitely gifted at getting on each others’ nerves, too,,, lmao.

anyway, thx for reading! <333

tagging: @embalmed-roses @blood-070 and @yourlocalratwriter  

[rottngdeer]

Bloodsuckers — 4

Pairings || Hannibal Lecter x Vampire!Female!Reader x Will Graham

Part 4/?

Part 3

Content/Warnings || Implied blood consumption, implied murder, gaslighting, manipulation

Authors Note || sorry this is so late, i have not had a good year so far and i’ve been dealing with a lot. working on more chapters tho, not sure how long i want this to be, but i’m happy people seem to like it so far :)

Will stayed for a while after your birthday party. Everyone else except Jack had left, but him and Hannibal were in another room together talking about… whatever. Will was just focused on you. He wanted to know why you are spending so much time with Hannibal; he did suspect that the two of you were sleeping together, but he couldn’t be sure. You and Hannibal were sat at the dinner table which was now cleared of any food, but a bottle of wine remained. Will had a glass while you had a glass of— something. He noticed that Hannibal was bringing your drinks to you from the kitchen rather than pouring you a glass from the wine that was present. Something special or expensive? But why hide it?

You looked at Will from over your glass as you took a sip of your drink. You set the glass down, “I can tell you have a question.”

Will shifted in his seat. It took him a few seconds but he finally asked, “Are you and Hannibal… sleeping together?”

“No.”

“You seem close.”

“Not like that.”

Will quirked an eyebrow, obviously still skeptical.

“We’ve… kissed. But it’s more of a business partnership, Will. It’s just a complicated one.”

Will looked down at his glass, “Business,” He repeated. “About the Ripper cases?”

“Yes,”

“So Jack knows?”

You narrowed your eyes a bit, “Why the sudden interest in my relationship with Hannibal?”

“I just… would want to be kept in the loop if you and Hannibal find out anything by yourselves.”

“You will be.”

A silence followed before you said, “You seemed relieved. That Hannibal and I aren’t sleeping together.”

“I don’t trust him. Or like him all that much… that’s what the sudden interest is.”

You smiled a little, “I know you don’t trust him. It’s easy to tell.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Y/N,” Will said as he stood up, finishing his wine and in a final gulp and setting the glass down on the table. “Can I drive you home?”

“I’m going to stay a bit longer, but thank you.”

Will just nodded before heading out, bumping into Hannibal and Jack at the front door. Hannibal was opening the door for Jack, who nodded at Will before exiting. Will brushed past Hannibal without saying anything and headed out the front door behind Jack. “It’s good to see you outside of work, Will,” He heard Hannibal say. He didn’t reply, only glanced at the house in hopes to see you through a window; but he didn’t. He was determined to figure out more about you though— there was almost something uncanny about you. The strange drinks, the relationship with Hannibal, the lack of eating; there had to be more to you than you were letting on.

Hannibal shut the door as he heard you approaching. He turned to face you, giving you an innocent smile, “Did you enjoy your party?”

“Yes, thank you,” You let out a small sigh, “Will is on to you, Hannibal. We need to tread lightly.”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?”

“Hardly.”

Hannibal slowly stepped closer to you, “You should start to. I’ll make sure that Will doesn’t discover or leak anything about either of us or our arrangement.” He stopped when he was directly in front of you, looking down at you as he cupped the side of your face with one of his hands. “I promise,” He added. You resisted the urge to lean into his hand.

Your eyes met his, “I don’t think you give Will enough credit for how smart he is.”

“I don’t think you give me enough credit either. This… relationship won’t work well if you don’t start to trust me.”

“I wouldn’t call it a relationship.”

“I’d like it if it was.”

“No, Hannibal. You want to add even more complications to this?” You pushed his hand off of your face, “We already work together in public and in private, adding anything else to this will only make things worse. I shouldn’t have even kissed you earlier.” You stepped back a few steps to create distance between the two of you.

Hannibal took a step forward, “When was the last time you had someone who keeps your secret? Who allows you to feed off of them? Who kills to help you feed off of others?” He continued to step forward and you continued to step back until your back hit a wall and you had nowhere else to go. “Aren’t I all you have right now? The only person who knows of this? The only one who can help you feed safely without being caught? The only person who won’t turn you into the police or to the government? They’d run test after test on you until you were weak and useless. Or dead,” Hannibal looked down at you, his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you think it’s wise to say no to me?”

You slowly shook your head in response.

“Then I suggest you don’t say no to me again. If you leave Will to me, and you trust me… then you will remain safe.”

You just nodded, defeated. You didn’t want to argue with him, especially when everyone had gone and you had seen what Hannibal is capable of. Hannibal exhaled calmly how that you weren’t arguing with him.

“I don’t believe Jack will mind when I tell him we’re dating. Any suspicion of us doing anything will simply be covered by date nights and dinner parties together. If anyone asks either of us where we’ve been, we use the other. Simple, really.”

You glared up at him, “I hate you, you know that?”

“You’ll love me soon enough.”

[natrogersfics]

Secret Love Song - Chapter 1: Immediate Attention

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

The sun is already sitting low on the horizon, painting her office in interpolating hues of orange and violet, by the time Natasha dials in for her final meeting of the day. The blueprint for Red Guardian’s upcoming project in Chicago is projected on the screen before her, but as Carol Danvers, their Head of Development, walks her though it, she finds herself only half listening as the exhaustion of the week begins to settle in.

Her week had begun with a five-alarm fire that came in the form of an emergency board meeting. The success of the Red Room in Las Vegas and the recent revamping of their Monaco property had sent their stock price soaring for the first time in years, and it’s a trend she knew the board was highly keen to see continue. She had walked into that conference room completely prepared to fight whatever unrealistic target number they were about to throw her way, only to discover that their task for her would be much more difficult than she'd imagined. The moment Eleanor had strewn a copy of the morning’s front page of the New York Star on the conference table, chronicling in bold font every sordid detail of her brother’s latest alcohol-fueled night out, it became clear to her that her entire week had gone to hell.

Why the board thought she had any control over John’s actions, she hadn’t a clue. If anything, she knows that whatever pleas she had made to him to exercise discretion would not only fall on deaf ears, but also just incentivize him to make his next outing more scandalous than the last. But while her brother’s belligerence sat atop of her list of problems this week, it certainly wasn’t the only item – such is the case when the entire future of the company laid squarely on her shoulders.

“The building permits are expected to be issued by the Fall,” Carol says. “From there, so long as the materials…”

As Carol continues to delve into the project’s next steps, the sound of her door creaking open causes her to shift her eyes away from the screen to see Steve stepping inside her office. Instantly, a zing of excitement rushes through her, and if not for the years of experience she has with sitting through mundane meetings, she might have just leapt out of her seat. It’s the first time she’s seen him since contract negotiations began with another client of his, and she reckons that his absence is another reason why her days have only seemed to drag on. But as he stands by the threshold of the room now, looking ever delectable in dark jeans and that leather jacket of his, she notes the uncanny way the tension that’s been billowing between her shoulder blades has seemingly evaporated.

“Carol,” she says, prompting her colleague to pause. “Do you mind if we pick this back up tomorrow? Something just came up that requires my immediate attention.”

“Of course,” Carol says. “I’ll have a copy of the blueprint along with some notes in your inbox shortly.”

She nods into the camera. “Thanks, Carol.”

The second Carol ends the call, she looks toward Steve to find him smirking. “Immediate attention, huh?”

“Practically mission critical,” she says as she stands from her seat. With lengthened strides, she closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. The familiar scent of his cologne surrounds her then, and she hurriedly rises on the tips of her toes so her lips can finally meet his.

Much to her delight, Steve does not waste time, matching her urgency and deepening their kiss. He bends down, and when he lifts her to him as though she weighs nothing, walking them towards the couch, she can’t help but let out a gasp. She’s lost count of the number of times he’s used his considerable strength to pull her close or hold her down so he could wring out every bit of pleasure from her, but even so, she doesn’t think the little thrill that rushes through her veins every time he does will ever cease.

“Hi,” he says when they finally settle down against the cushions, her knees on either side of his as she straddles his lap.

“Hi,” she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper as her lips curl up to mirror the lopsided smile on his. His eyes are so brightly blue and oceanic as he stares up at her that she can’t help but momentarily lose herself in them, every predicament on her plate this week seemingly fading into the background.

It’s when she brings a hand up to cup his face, her thumb running across the stubble on his jawline that he lets out a sigh. “I missed you,” he says, and she bites her lip at his admission, feeling not unlike some schoolgirl with a crush with the way his words elicit butterflies in her stomach. “I hate being away from you.”

“Luckily, there’s a solution for that,” she says even as the flutters in her belly intensify. He arches a brow up at her in question, and she gestures for him to come closer. “You could stop leaving me.”

He throws his head back as he chuckles. “Yeah, I’m sure my other client can definitely fend for himself.”

“So long as he keeps his snarky comments to himself,” she says, and they both share a laugh. “And for what it’s worth, I hated that you were away from me, too.”

“Yeah?”

She hums in confirmation. “I was terribly bored.”

“Bored, huh,” he says, his lips twitching in amusement when she nods. “Well, we can’t have that.” His hands find her waist, and he pulls her closer until their noses are practically touching. “Surely, you’ll let me make it up to you.”

She cards her fingers through his hair. “I could be convinced.”

That’s all the invitation he needs to capture her lips in his again, and the mere taste of him – minty fresh and so uniquely him – causes her to sigh. The kiss is nothing short of consuming, and as the pent-up longing for him that she’s been trying to keep at bay all week suddenly roars back to life, she allows her eyes to fall shut, savoring each warm press of his mouth against her skin as his lips trail down her jaw and then lower still.

His fingers begin working on the buttons of her blouse, only to pause once he makes it halfway through. He pulls away, and she nearly whines at the loss of contact.

“What’s wrong?” she manages to breath out, her eyes shooting open. He doesn’t respond, and when she follows his gaze, she finds him staring at the stack of necklaces that was concealed underneath her button-up. “Oh,” she says, her teeth bothering her lower lip once more. “You forgot it on the nightstand.”

He reaches for the rectangle of his dog tag that’s hanging low against her sternum. “You’ve been wearing this?”

“I haven’t taken it off since you left,” she confesses, finding it difficult to read the expression that paints his face. “I liked having a piece of you while you were away.” It sounded absurd, but something about having this token of his helped her power through the week, giving her that little boost of bravado to deal with the onslaught of problems even when her will was running low. “I know it’s personal…” She shakes her head as she reaches behind her. “I should’ve asked-”

His hand catches hers before it can reach the chain, and when she meets his eyes, she finds that they’ve darkened around the edges. “No, you shouldn’t have,” he says. “Keep it.”

She couldn’t stop the smile from forming on her lips if she tried. “Really?”

His response is to pull her in for another dizzying kiss. “It looks better on you,” he says, and this time, the desire that’s burning hotly in his eyes is impossible to miss. “It belongs on you.”

Read the rest of the So It Goes... 'verse here

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 26

Do you ever write a chapter and just...hate it?

That was this chapter and I've been working and reworking it over and over again and this morning it finally clicked what I was missing and so I hope you enjoy this chapter more than I do, because I have beef with this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

“So,” I began, trying my best not to fidget, “How do you find Berdusk?” 

The Lady Allara seemed to be a timid creature, we had been walking along the grounds for at least an hour and conversation was dreadfully, painfully slow. Some might be surprised to know that her conversation skills were inferior to that of orcs. 

“Oh, it’s quite nice.” She replied, blinking her wide eyes at me. She had an uncanny gaze that never strayed from my face. I could never tell if she was pleased when she looked at me, or simply frightened out of her mind, either way her wide, globulous eyes and her open mouth smile never was not on me.

There truly was no time to be amused by anything, but I couldn’t help but think that Drun would find her just as unsettling as I, and there was some warm comfort in that. Despite the distance and not knowing his condition, I still felt him near me. He was in my every waking thought and motivated every breath I took. He would return to me, that I was determined, and in the meantime I forced myself to believe that all was well and that what I was doing was enough.

I looked behind me and bit back the sigh I wanted to release when I locked eyes with the guards who followed us close behind. 

Earlier that day, Commander Gideon had only just left before those same guards  had returned with the servants to prepare me for the day. Since then, they had not left my sight, even within the privacy of my own room. It took much wailing and gnashing of teeth to convince them to let me bathe without one of them watching me. The absolute perverts.

“Do you miss Triel?” I asked Allara. “You’ve been gone almost a fortnight, is that correct?”

She shrugged, “I’m content to go where father takes me.”

Odd answer. I looked over at her again. Her expression was vacant of most any emotion. She didn’t look anywhere but me, in fact I don’t think she had looked out at the gardens once.

“My mother started this garden, you know.” I changed the subject. “She brought seeds from her homeland, isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, quite.” She neither blinked nor looked away from me, not even once. 

I swallowed thickly. “My lady, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly.” She said, “And you?”

I narrowed my eyes while I looked back at the guards, “The same, I suppose.” I said vacantly. They wouldn’t give away anything. Even if they knew, they’re helmets concealed too much of their face to even help.

“How about some tea?” I asked. I needed to distract myself from her and a drink and something sweet to eat from the kitchen seemed like a good idea.

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She said, “That sounds perfectly splendid.”

“Do you like tea?”

“Oh yes.” She bowed her head.

“Hmmm.” I nodded softly. I clasped my hands behind my back as I led her and the two guards behind us back into the interior of the Great Hall. I glanced back one last time to the gardens, appreciating the work that had been done to keep my mother’s plants alive. Someday, Drun would see it, I vowed.

The kitchens were pleasantly warm and quite busy when we entered. The head cook glanced up and nodded sagely when I walked in. They were used to my brothers and I coming in after our studies to enjoy a sweet treat with some tea. It was a safe space amongst so few of them and the cook was always kind even though I had never seen them speak a word in all my time knowing them.

They moved quickly to set two seats for myself and Allara to rest and then placed a setting for each of us to receive tea. A kettle was already beginning to boil.

“My lord, what a surprise!” I turned and gasped when I saw in the corner the large shadowy shape of a Dragonborn. How had I not seen them there? Doxxah was carrying a tray of baked goods, steam still rising from them.

“Doxxah! Wonderful to see you.” I said. I gestured for Lady Allara to take a seat, which she obliged with no objection. I stepped away, closer to my old friend.

“Likewise my lord, though a bit unexpected.” Doxxah gave a knowing stare. “Would you care to help me?”

I glanced at my fiance, who sat contentedly on her chair, her feet swinging slightly back and forth. From my distance it even seemed she had more of a natural smile on her face as she held her cup of tea. I turned back to Doxxah and nodded, “I would be honoured to help.”

 “How is the Lady Allara?” Doxxah’s voice was soft, not carrying above the sounds of the kitchen in use. We both glanced over at her, but the girl did not seem to notice the conversation being about her.

“Odd.” I said. “But not unkind.”

They nodded in acknowledgement. “And how is your paramour?”

“I do not know.” I answered. I glanced at the guards standing at the door. “I am…a bit stuck.”

They nodded. “Take heart, my lord, things will work out.” They placed a clawed hand upon my shoulder and winked. “You have many who are eager to see you happy.”

I bowed my head, “I know that, I am grateful.”

“There’s a but in there.” They said.

“But what if even after everything, my happiness can never be mine?”

“Hmmm, an honest question.” They reached for the last tray they had that had rows of steaming cinnamon rolls. I reached and pulled them from the tray and onto the serving plates on the table next to us. “Truly I am not the right person for this question, for I am ever the optimist. If you are not happy, my lord, then that is not your ending. Do not settle until then.”

“But what if he’s gone?” I breathed. I wasn’t certain if they could even hear me. To utter my greatest fear aloud, that Drunrag might be dead without my knowing, haunted me. I was suddenly shivering where I stood.

“Oh my young lord.” Doxxah lifted a plate with a roll on it and placed it into my hand. “Do not dwell on what we do not know. Take heart and in the meantime, warm your stomach with what is good. I have to be going, but I am always nearby.” They bared their teeth in a friendly, but also quite ferocious grin directed at the guards. They lifted their stack of trays and waved to the cook who was already working on a different dish before they made their way out of the kitchen.

I sighed. I supposed Doxxah was right. I had no way of knowing and thinking about it so obsessively made no difference. I needed to follow through on my plan. 

If I’m not happy, then it’s not the end. Not yet.

Lady Allara didn’t react as if I had even stepped away when I sidled into the seat next to her and placed a plate with her own cinnamon roll in front of her. “For you.” I said. 

Her eyes locked onto me, a sudden passing expression of fear on her gaze. “You are very kind.” She said, her voice was lower than normal, more mellow and somber. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“Sorry?” I asked. “Whatever for?”

She looked down into the bottom of her cup. “Our parents aren’t very honest people, are they?”

I drew my hands back from the table and onto my lap. “Allara, is there something you know that I don’t?”

Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t meet my eyes. 

“Whatever you can do, don’t play their game.” She finally met my gaze. There was hate and rage in those eyes, her demure appearance shed away to reveal a creature filled with spite and revenge.  “My father and your father…they each hold each other in a chokehold of secrets. There would be no reason for a wedding if those secrets were conveniently revealed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How might one go about that?” 

The doors suddenly burst open and I jumped, I spun in my seat and looked down at my uneaten pastry.

“There you are!” The Duke of Triel exclaimed, my father just at his heels. “We thought you two would be in the garden. We had to search all over to find you.” His voice was jovial, but when I spared a stare I caught a sharpness in his stare as he closed the distance between himself and his daughter.

“I should have known you’d show her your favourite haunts, son.” My father smirked, but it was not a kind one. “But at this hour? It is only an hour before suppertime.”

“My daughter tends to have an upset stomach if she’s consumed too many sweets before a meal. She’s probably got some shaking in her. Ah yes, there it is. Come my love.” The Duke of Triel spoke quickly as he ushered towards the young woman and pulled her away from her seat. I watched as her eyes met mine. There was nothing vacant or uncanny in them. They were alert and locked onto me and then, the duke’s hands were on her and she was dragged away and soon out of my sight.

Did they truly think I was an idiot to not see what was happening here? I looked over to my father, glaring.

“Any particular reason you’re so displeased with me today, son?” He asked dryly, “Or is it the same as usual?”

“What are you doing to her?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” My father asked. All innocence in his tone. 

I rose to my feet. “You’re both up to something, and we’re being used as your pawns. I won’t accept such dishonesty, especially from you. It’s time we stop following in the steps of our forefathers. Look where it got you. Where it got our whole family. If I am to take your place as Duke, I will set the precedent now that this will not continue.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure what you’re seeing that’s making you so upset, son. I expect a bit more congenial attitude at supper. And you better be dressed.” Was my father’s only response before he turned and walked out.

I slumped back into my chair and looked down at my tea and cinnamon roll, both still warm. I took a bite and felt the hot buttery bread soften and melt in my mouth, cinnamon pervading any other flavor. I suddenly felt hot tears on my face. 

“Drun.” I said under my breath, burying my face into my hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing without you.”

I should have hurried back to my quarters to dress for supper, but I held back for as long as I could. I savored each bite of the pastry, and then slowly sucking the icing and cinnamon off of my fingers. I imagined another world where Drunrag was sitting next to me, sitting on his hands as he expectantly watched me try something Doxxah taught him how to bake. I showered him with praises and let him lick the sugar on my lips before kissing me deeply. 

My stomach twisted at the sight of it all. If only it could be so blissful. More tears spilled over.

“Brother.” 

I raised my head and Selhar had taken Allara’s empty seat. His eyes were wide with concern. 

“I’m fine.” I said, “Just thinking too much.” I sat up straight and wiped my hands clean. “Will you be at supper?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just for you and Allara and the Duke. Father insisted on privacy.” He dropped his bottom lip. “Whose pastry is this?” He suddenly asked, a touch of his young childhood whine snuck into his voice as he looked down at the roll before him.

“Yours, if you want it.” I sniffed and wiped my nose. “Lady Allara was meant to eat it, but she had somewhere else to be.”

“But I think this might be yours.” He said, sliding out a small slip of paper from beneath the plate. In small, loopy script was written, “Altan.”

Selhar kept an eye on me as I unfolded the slip, but his mouth was already full of the warm roll. 

Altan,

I don’t know if I will ever have the presence of mind to give this to you, but you must know the truth from my side. You and I are victims of dishonorable men who happen to be our fathers. Neither of us want this marriage, I’m aware. So let us help one another. 

My father, the Duke of Triel, is the father of at least five illegitimate children. There may be more. I have in here included the names of those I was able to track down. Since my father discovered my knowledge of them, he has kept me drugged so that I will not reveal his secret. But you may be able to do something with this information.

Lastly, even when I am under the influence of the herbs my father forces on me, I am still aware of many things. I’ve heard our fathers speak about the underground guild known as the Red Hunters. I have always understood them to be a neutral force that is swayed by whatever is the stronger power. At this time, the Red Hunters and your father’s partnership is built upon a common enemy: the orcs that reside in the Fields of the Dead. The Red Hunters are promised a share of those lands after the orcs have been cleansed and your father intends to use the rest to expand the Trade routes that exist beyond Triel and Berdusk. Perhaps a bargain can be struck if you can offer something greater.

Should we both remain in the chains our fathers built for us, please know that I will not hold any ill will towards you.

Yours, 

Allara

I passed the note to Selhar and rose to my feet. “See if you can get this to who it needs to. I have to go.” I reached for his head and tussled it lightly. I didn’t dare say anything else with the present company, but I met his stare and we each shared a nervous smile. “And take a sweet to Robin. He’d like that.”

Things would be alright, I thought to myself, I still had my brothers to look after. Drunrag haunted my every thought, but I had to be realistic. My brothers were just as important and I would not abandon them.

The dining hall was vacant of any guests except for myself, Allara, The Duke of Triel and my own father, the Duke of Berdusk. It was a small, intimate dinner arrangement that only took up one end of a very elongated table. I wished that Selhar and Robin could be there, if only to distract me from the uncomfortable stare I would get from the three other guests.

Allara’s expression had returned to its vacant, empty stare and she answered everything with the same politeness and poise that I was familiar with. I searched for some sign of that trembling, human girl beneath, but whatever the Duke had done to her had suppressed her completely. I eyed the Duke cautiously as he sat across and to the right of me.

In a rare act of humbleness, my father had left the head of the table vacant to sit next to me on my right and across from the Duke of Triel. It certainly gave the appearance of two happy families preparing for a joyous wedding amongst friends.

It was just so far from that when we all knew that Allara and I were being used as toys in a game that we never were explained the rules to. And one of us wasn’t even given the presence of mind to fight back.

The food in front of me was decadent and elaborate, I envisioned the cook when I had seen them earlier that day, bustling from one end of the kitchen to the other. It was a wonder they managed to make it all on their own. But the passing thought that I kept coming to was fear that maybe if I took a bite, I too, would end up just like Allara, caught in a web that put me exactly where my father wanted me to be. Compliant, pleasant, obedient to his every desire.

“Something the matter?” My father asked under his breath. 

I looked over to him, blinking.

“You haven’t taken a single bite.”

Certainly words like that ease one’s worries when they believe they’re about to be poisoned. I felt my stomach as it twisted and I took a spoonful up to my lips and prayed silently to the gods that I would somehow be spared. Oh gods, spare me.

I waited for the inevitable to happen as I slowly chewed and swallowed the warm food. My father didn’t glance over in my direction as I held my breath and waited.

Nothing happened, thank gods.

“So, Altan.” The Duke Triel asked. “Your father and I took some time to discuss wedding dates. We believe sooner is better than later. What with kidnappings and other dangers about, we believe it’s best to heighten security and quicken the pace.”

“Is this something that can be negotiated?” I asked.

I felt a harsh boot jam into my foot below the table. I didn’t flinch or look away from the Duke of Triel.

“Well…is there a reason you would like to wait?” He asked.

“Oh yes, you see. I don’t think marrying so quickly is a competent choice on either of your parts. If such dangers are causing risk to myself and my betrothed, then such dangers also exist for our people. Until we can assure competent security and my kidnapper is brought before me, the wedding will not happen.”

“Son.” My father’s voice was tightlipped and forced. “This is not the time nor place.”

“Is it not?” I asked. “I was under the impression that you expected me to become the next Duke, what with all of those council meetings I was forced to attend. Should I not be thinking about the greater good for our people, and yours?” I nodded to the Triels. “I doubt a single council member would disagree that safety is our upmost priority, not secrecy. The people will want to celebrate this wedding, and I will have that for them, especially after so many years they’ve spent grieving the loss of our Duchess. But if you had wished me to be submissive as before, perhaps you should have expressed your intentions differently.”

Neither Duke spoke, which let me continue, “And seeing how between myself and Alarra, I seem to be the only cognizant one present in a conversation, I suppose the decision is left up to me, isn’t it my betrothed?” I asked sweetly. 

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She responded with her saccharine tongue. “I am happy to be by your side.”

I grinned. “See?”

“She has not been well, my lord.” Her father replied.

“That’s apparent.” I sniffed with contempt. “I promise the both of you, that whatever secrets you have hidden so deep beneath your fine coats and thick necks, I will expose the both of you, unless you promise me my kidnapper returned to me alive.”

“An empty threat son.” My father said, “End the theatrics now.”

I turned sharply to face him. “Is it? You don’t know what I know. Two can play this game father, and you were such a good teacher.” I said, my grin widening. I rose to my feet. “But the game will end and when it does, I hope your names are sent straight to the nine hells.”

I didn’t wait to be excused, nor did I look back to see their faces.  Half of the battle was convincing them that I was worth being feared, intimidated by and carrying the confidence to not care what they thought. 

I stepped out into the hall and let out a deep breath. I predicted that things would likely get worse before they got better, but I was determined to see this through.

I was followed back to my chambers with an extra guard in tow. I glanced back at them and winked before stepping into my room and hearing one of them following in behind me. 

I was surprised to find Robin asleep on my bed. His face had sticky bits of frosting on his cheek. He looked peaceful. I let out a sigh. There would be no rest for me, not yet.

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[otome-obsessions]

One Day and One Night - [Victor x Kate]

Prologue (🌞) | Chapter 1 (🌞) | Chapter 1.5 (🌞) | Chapter 2 (🌞) | Chapter 2.5 (🌞) | Chapter 3 (🌞) | Chapter 4 (🌚) | Chapter 5 (🌞)

Chapter 2 - Kate

WC: 1830

As the first hint of sunlight peeks through my bedroom window, I do my best to rub the sleep from my eyes. Today is finally the day, and I want to get a headstart on Victor. Knowing him, he’d have his own parade of surprises for me, but I’ll beat him to the punch this time!

I head to the castle kitchen, apron in hand. 

(There’s no better way to start the day than with a delightfully delicious breakfast! It may have taken a while, but I’ve finally gotten Victor’s scone recipe memorized, so I’ll-)

The opposite door of the kitchen opens right after I walk into the room. I lock eyes with Victor, and there’s a moment where we just stare at each other in surprise.

Victor: “Pfft. Ahaha! They say great minds think alike, but I’d say this is a bit uncanny.”

I can’t help but laugh along with him. I mean, he even has his own matching apron in his hand. We couldn’t have been more in sync if we’d tried.

I mask the end of my laughter with a short cough and give Victor a stern look.

Kate: “This is no laughing matter. I don’t know who leaked the details of Operation: Succulent, Sensational Scones, but once I find the mole, he’ll have hell to pay!”

Victor: “Hmm, is that what you call it? No matter how you cut it, it’s obvious that your operation was reverse engineered from Project: Bawdy, Buttery Breakfast, Little Robin’s Favorite Treat! I cannot forgive such overt plagiarism!”

Victor makes his way over to me, gently takes the apron from my hand, and drapes it over my neck. He’s close enough to make my voice ever-so-slightly thinner when I speak.

Kate: “Plagiarism? I would never!”

Victor: “Well, we’ll simply have to get to the bottom of who copied whom.”

He ties the strings of my apron, his hands lingering on my waist both too long and not nearly long enough. After taking a few steps back, he flicks his apron into the air. When it lands to the ground I see him clothed in a different apron with his hair neatly tied in a ponytail.

(A new magic trick? How did he even manage that?)

He strikes a regal pose in his adorable new outfit, and I gave him the polite applause I knew he was waiting for. 

Victor: “Thank you, thank you! Your honest praise is the only payment I need. Now we must settle this case of domestic espionage through battle! May the most delectable dessert win!”

We spend the next couple of hours baking, making a mess, and finding any excuse to enjoy just being together. Little tastes of the batter on his spoon. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Feeding each other like we did all those months ago. 

Eventually, we both become nearly full to bursting, having gorged ourselves on a mix of scones, tarts, and whatever pastries we could slap together with the leftover ingredients. As we relax at the kitchen counter, I toy with a strand of Victor’s hair.

Kate: “So, what’s next, Vic? The day’s barely begun.”

Victor: “Already so eager to leave?”

Kate: “Well, if we’re together anywhere is fine. I just didn’t expect you to waste your chance at ‘anything.’”

His eyes simmer with something darky and heady, cutting through the happy malaise left behind by our meal. I feel a pleasant shiver run up my spine as he smiles at me.

Victor: “A fair point. I’d hate to disappoint my stunning songbird, after all. Hmmm.”

Victor rests his head on his hand, eyes shut and seemingly deep in thought. He looks so cute being so at ease. I’m caught between wanting to pinch his cheeks or just take in the view.

Victor: “Right then! It’s decided.”

With a clap Victor stands to his full height and takes my hand. He pulls me toward the entrance of the kitchen while I’m left wondering what, exactly, was decided.

Kate: “Wait, where are we going?”

Victor: “You’ll just have to see when we get there.”

As it turns out, it wasn’t much of a journey. Not in regards to distance, at least. 

We spend the rest of our day walking through the castle halls and visiting our favorite locations in Crown’s massive home. Everytime we come up to something I had grown familiar with, Victor teaches me something new.

He taught me a simple song on the ballroom piano. He helped me sit and glide down the entry stairs. He showed me a hidden collection of rare books in the library. And so much more. Just when I thought I was really coming to feel that Crown Castle was a home, Victor managed to find a way to make it even more bright and exciting. 

The day passes by quickly, and before I know it, it’s time for supper. We make our way outside to have a picnic in the garden. Though hanging low in the sky, the sun is still bright when we lay out our cozy blanket and Victor unveils an absolute feast. 

(Seriously, how did he even manage this? We’ve been together all day!)

I’m unsure where to start, but luckily Victor makes the decision for me by bringing a lovely little sandwich to my mouth. We start happily munching away and chatting as the sun sinks lower on the horizon. Eventually, a thought occurs to me.

(There’s just no way he could have done this all on his own. Maybe he’d had the maids prepare something while we were roaming around the castle.)

Kate: “Say, Vic. Where have all the maids been today? I haven’t seen anyone around.”

Victor: “They’ve all been given time off until sunrise. We typically keep a skeleton crew, but I wanted to be truly alone with you today.”

Kate: “Wha- Then how and when did you have time to make all this?!”

Victor: “I can’t have you knowing all my secrets. A man’s only as attractive as he is mysterious, right?”

(Ah, this again. This is the part where I say ‘You’re attractive no matter what!’ isn’t it?)

It took some time for me to notice, but Victor had a bad habit of trying to win compliments from me in roundabout ways. It’s cute, but sometimes his methods leave me feeling a bit sad or insecure. I think it’s best if we’re more straightforward with each other, especially after multiple months of dating.

Kate: “Vic, if you want me to compliment you, there’s no need to fish for it..Just ask me very nicely and I’ll tell you how handsome you are anytime.”

Victor: “Egads! To believe that my dishonest scheme was so easily unveiled. You’ve come to know me rather well, Kate. In that case…”

He reaches across the blanket, past the food that’s lined up between us, and cups my cheek. Then he crosses the distance between us until our noses are almost touching while his thumb lightly caresses my skin. I’m absolutely ensnared by his eyes at that moment. That oppressive, dangerous aura isn’t present, but there’s still a clear greed and hunger in his gaze.

Victor: “Compliment me. Please.”

It doesn’t sound like a request in the slightest, and I can’t really say he’s being nice about it. Even so…

Kate: “You’re beautiful…”

My voice is breathy, and my words are much simpler than what I’d intended to say. I’m just enchanted because when he looks at me like that, I don’t necessarily mind if he’s being greedy…

Victor: “Hmmm, beautiful. I’ve been called that before, but the word feels new when it passes through your lips.”

I inhale a quiet gasp as his thumb glances over my lower lip. The air between us suddenly feels charged, electric, and my eyes can’t help but be drawn to his smile. We’ve shared so few moments of physical touch, but surely he would finally close the distance today?

Victor: “Thank you, little robin.”

Pulling his hand away from my face, he retreats, yet I still feel the warmth of his palm and the heat of his gaze. What is this feeling of restlessness? Of something being incomplete? I don’t even have the chance to really ponder my disappointment before a drop of water marks my cheek.

We both look up to see the clouds have gathered and darkened while we ate. 

(Sigh. Lovely London weather.)

Just as we finish packing away our remaining food, the rain really starts to come down. Victor takes off his jacket and covers me with it as we dash inside to escape the sudden downpour. 

When we make it inside, Victor is soaked through his vest while only my shoes and socks got wet. 

Kate: “Thank you, Victor. What an awful turn of events.”

Victor: “Was it? I found it quite thrilling to dash through the rain with you.”

Is thrilling the right word for it? I didn’t think of our frantic scramble that way, but…

Victor begins to wring out his hair now that we are covered, and my eyes follow the curve of his neck and the droplets of rain slide down his skin.

(He really is drenched… Thrilling, huh?)

Before I can give myself time to second guess my desire, I fold Victor’s coat, place it on the ground, and reach for his vest. His hands go still as he observes me quietly, and I’m suddenly taken by the need to make an excuse.

Kate: “You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay in this…”

I look up to him as a way of asking permission, my hands lightly gripping the buttons of his vest. His hair cascades through his loose fingers as he stares back, that caged energy starting to peek through and send my hairs on end again.

Victor slowly covers my hands with his own, before leaning in to give me a sultry whisper.

Victor: “Kate, look out the window.”

I follow his instruction and see hues of orange, yellow, and purple painting the rain clouds in a quickly dimming light. Twilight has finally come.

Victor: “So, tell me, beloved, what will it be? Does our day end here?”

The day flashes through my mind, blending with the other memories we had made together. The joy, excitement, contentment. The danger. The love. All of it flows through me as I glance at Victor’s coat. He is always shielding me from danger, both inside these walls and beyond. When we dance with darkness, he never allows it to come too close to me. He’s so incredibly special to me, and above all, I trust him. 

My fingers tighten their grip on his vest before I spread them out along his chest, relishing in the contrast between the wet cloth and firm heat underneath. I meet those impossibly blue, gemstone eyes, and I’ve never wanted to dive into something so recklessly as I do now.

Kate: “I’m yours, Vic.”

Previous Chapter (🌞) | Next Chapter (🌞)

[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

A little bit to come of what I’m working on:

Doom was a pink, grinning thing—one which dropped itself upon the floor with all of Augustine’s clothing. Erik found himself numbering the stitches along the hem of her chemise, counting every button on the emerald silk which laid lifeless beneath her round toes. Anything to keep him from looking up at the woman in front of him, from contending with whatever reality his foolish hope and flattery had just bought him.

For how long did Mama look at her feet whenever you stood before her? Behrouz at his fingernails, the pulse of your neck? He could blame no one but himself for this humiliation.

“Well, monsieur?”

There might as well have been wires embedded under his rotten skin, the way his head jerked up at her unremarkable voice; what he saw standing before him left him speechless. For she had resumed her contrapasto stance from earlier, but now every inch of her skin was bare, save for what was covered by the hair snaking down her shoulders. A punch to the gut would have been less disarming.

“Well.” Stupid. Erik slumped backwards onto the stool by his easel, the charcoal between his worried thumb and forefinger now making little piles on the floorboards. He tried and failed to stare at nothing but the little mole beneath her left eye, just catching the embarrassed blush blooming on her cheeks.

But Augustine proved a stalwart and uncanny thing. When the silence began to border on painful, she cleared her throat and spoke—glorious, boring words which had abandoned him entirely.

“You have a beautiful piano. I saw it as I was passing through the corridor downstairs. Are you a musician as well?”

What could he possibly say? Yes—I am the greatest pianist to have walked this earth, save one. No—music died in me months, years ago, and I am merely awaiting the right funeral pyre on which to throw myself.

Both answers seemed inadequate, tangential, when compared to a woman mantled in nothing but lamplight, every curve of her long body etching itself into his memory. Her breasts were heavy, tipped in dusk, and to see them rise and fall in time with the nearly imperceptible sway of her thighs was enough to render his piano little more than a box of bolts and string.

So he said this, stooping his hideous head: “I play. A little.”

Read the first chapter here.

[survivalist-anon]

Log 7: Spand off, Spand up and DMSO

It was a Mexican standoff.

It was two vs ten, Fjord had been pinned down.

And I was in the middle of it.

"STEN! By bringing that mortal here you've violated our agreement! You and your squad are now obligated by the law of the Codex Astartes to be commissioned in the nearest Imperial Base for security purposes. Surrender now and the human will not be harmed in the process of interrogation!", his voice echoed throughout the pine forest, I could hear birds cawing and flapping in the distance from the sheer volume.

"You forget Aldercon! The purpose of your chapter being here is to defend the mortals on this world! Not subjugate them to Marshall Law!", Sten responed.

Aldercon's face gone red with fury, "YOU DO NOT USE THE EARTH'S LAWS ON ME, STEN! We go by our own conducts!"

Call it curiosity or call it a self destructive itch, I decided to peak over Sten's shoulder. I could see the man's eyes focus from Sten to me, if glaring at someone could shoot bullets, he was shooting rockets.

Something in me boiled over in desperation, I had enough stress for one lifetime."Please! Don't shoot! We just to apologize for last night!".

Sten sharply turned his head towards me, "You have nothing to apologize for, we had reacted on the assumption you were in danger, but it's their transgression and theirs alone."

"if I've learned anything in life is actions speak louder than words, but words can make for a great magic trick called "defusing the situation", just apologize please, this was all just a big misunderstanding anyway!", I couldn't help but raise my voice a bit, I felt terrible doing it too. "Please, I'm....not use to any of this."

I could tell Sten was contemplating my request, at this point it was up to him if he wanted to go through with it. He let out a heavy sigh, "yes....I shall do as you requested.", as he nodded his agreement to me, he turned to Aldercon, "Chaplain Aldercon! We shall only cooperate on a set of conditions! No harm or interrogation shall be bestowed on my human, my pack WILL NOT join your fortress of fools! But, we will admit fault....in our actions, subsequently pay for them if needed!".

I held my sigh of release for just a few moments longer, I look to the chaplain, absolutely no change. It was like he was made of stone, than one of his soldiers methodically goes up to his side whispers in his ear.

By this point whatever was being said, he must have agreed to it.

He adjusts himself to a parade rest, "Alright. Come down slowly!", he commanded.

Sten motioned for Toke to start climbing down the wall, as they did I turned to see that some of the Marines had gone from 'high alert and ready to shoot", to relaxed and somewhat curious. Some of them lowered their guns, even as far as holstering them back. The look on their faces weren't just of harden soldiers, but also of beings who weren't used to visitors to their fort.

As for their leader, his death stare didn't change one bit. He was honed in us.

I didn't know what to make of it. I could even see some had gotten out of a farm house nearby, likely hearing the commotion that had grabbed their attention.

With a turn of his head, all of the soldiers simultaneously went into parade rest nearly in sync.

There was no hesitation in their motions, they weren't even moving. It's was uncanny yet breath taking.

I than remembered my encounter with the gentleman at the hardware store and began to panic. "Ugh, Sten."

He turned his head a little and whispered, "something concerns you?"

I began to blush in embarrassment. How the hell was I going to tell this guy I was put under some pheromone "love spell"....I had to try. "Ugh....that night... wasn't really the first time I was ugh....I don't what to call it? It was like being drunk a-"

"YOU!", a familiar angry voice bombarded the scene.

It was the hardware store guy. Oh no.

"You're that civilian woman who attempted to retrieve your overly aroused companion. The same one from that supply store.....You should be ashamed of yourself for lack of self control! Do have any idea the level of unnerving distraction your pheromones were doing, I could have made detrimental miscount of inventory!", with the wholehearted earnest of someone who has witnessed a lude and lascivious crime, he had just accused me of being the one distracting him?

"...ugh....I.... wasn't the only woman in the st-wait a damn minute you didn't even look at a single person in that story except Mrs Bellcaller, you should be ashamed too...or... something....", I completely fumbled my words, how was anyone supposed to respond to what sounded like the most outlandish accusation?

All the men were looking at me, than the accuser. Toke, Sten and Fjord were also a little confused.

Fjord, still pinned to the ground, "ugh....lass were ya naked or something, yah smell just fine?"

I shot him a look, "Fjord!"

I could see his cheeky grin, he was just playing around.

Aldercon now targeted the tone deaf marine,"..... Bilhard what in the name of the Emperor and all of Terra are you talking about, the tool run, did you not take the suppressor pills? Also GIVE ME FIVE THOUSAND FOR EMBARRASSING ME AGAIN! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

The one named Bilhard immediately dropped down doing pushups, now glaring at me with resentment.

At this point I was shaking not from his glare but from his boss's shouting.

He walked up to me, looked me up and down. Sten was growling at him. "Stay away from her...".

"Oh quit it Sten!", he grunted. "Madame, please pardon the poor behavior of my troops, complacency has been a terrible emerging issue at my facility. My men, as you can see....are not behaved enough to be interacting with the public at this moment.", he then takes a closer look at me, "lift your head up miss."

I do as he says, I lift enough for my neck be a little visible, I flinch as soon as he laid a single finger on me jaw, it was cold from the plated armor. I could feel him lift my jaw higher. I wasn't too sure what he was looking at.

"..... state your name. Occupation and current residency.", commanded what I could imagine was these guy's drill Sargent.

Sten moved to face him while still speaking to me, "you do need to answer him, he....does not answer to your family either, Chaplain Aldercon, you understand I can not disclose the location of my chosen mortals. Or have you forgotten that not everyone needs to be under your watchful eye?"

Aldercon looked at him, looked back at me. He still expected an answer.

"I ....can only give you...uhm....two of those three things....I...um....tell you my name and job...but...if you want a third thing I can tell something else.", I know it was pointless, but it was worth a try.

He looked at me, chuckled a little too, "Negotiating information........fine....my third 'thing'....as per your.....request.....what happened last night?".

The silence was deafening, "um...my name is Lorencia Lakatos Drake...I work at the wildlife rehabilitation center and reserve....and...well..me and my coworkers were out for a drink after work, well....he-", I look at Bilhard still doing pushups, " -and his friends were sitting there. They weren't doing anything I swear, they probably were there for the same reasons too....and...well...Shelly, she's well couldn't resist their charm and ugh....I have to ask....what did he mean by 'pheromones'?....", hopefully this question wasn't going to do anything drastic.

I could see the cogs in his head turning, "hmm....one second madame.". He turns to look for someone, "Sha'kal! I need a word with you!".

I see a huge, extremely dark colored man, jogging as fast as he could to the chaplain. This wasn't just melanin either, it was a deep color, but what surprised me was his eyes. They were a near solid crimson color, like burning embers. I could see that Aldercon and the man were talking to each other and he than looked at me. He came lightly jogging to me and Sten.

"Oh good morning Sten, how have you been!?", he greeted Sten. "Causing mischief as always I presume?"

I could feel Sten wasn't as defensive with this guy. He became relaxed in fact.

"Ah Sha'kal, old friend how have you been? I see you have your work cut out for yourself.", he was probably referring to his chaplain.

"Oh not to worry, things are doing wonders here. You know, you and the others are more than welcome to join too. We could use your talents here.", Sha'kal seemed like a rather friendly guy. More so then the rest so far. "Oh, who is this, hello miss. What is your name? My name is Sha'kal, son of Vulkan, I am very pleased to meet you". He reached out his hand, he didn't show a full palm like one would normally do for a hand shake, he showed his thumb and index finger. Even half closed his hand was enormous, the palm alone could cover my whole face.

I could see his features closer now, he has the facial features of someone from the Polynesian islands. Bright and friendly eyes for someone who's eyes looked like hot metal. He had a strange little metal stud on his right brow, I wasn't sure what was that all about. His smile and friendly demeanor could melt any stone cold heart, in fact he admitted this warm, safe energy. I couldn't explain it, but it's something very rare that you find in people. "My name is Lorencia Drake, but you can call me Lorey. It's a pleasure to meet you too.", I smiled back and shook his finger and thumb.

In spite of the size of his hands, he was wonderfully gentle.

He than examines my hair, face, eyes and teeth for some reason. I was caught off guard but I guess I was getting checked from the neck up.

"ah yes, hmm, let's judging by the health of your external dermis layer you're relatively good in regards to potential skin abrasion, I do see possible signs of melanoma development somewhere in your temporal region in that case I would like you to refer to your local dermatologist and judging by the formation of wrinkles, elasticity of your skin I would like to guess.....25?-", he cheerfully waited.

"ugh...29 actually", I answer back still flabbergasted at what he could tell just by looking at my head.

"oh so close, and remember please wear sunscreen when working outside, I recommend a cream with a moderate level of Zinc and a dash of collagen and iron in your diet. You are keeping very well up with your hygiene levels for someone who works with animals I presume but I will say you're not flossing as much as one should, cut down on any sugary snacks. You may need to get a bit more sleep, I assume it is due to stress, insomnia, drinking or maybe even an irritant in your home or workplace? And lastly based on your ocular reaction to the current brightness of the sun, you are mostly use to wearing sunglasses correct, an outdoorsmen of sorts?"

I giggled and nodded in agreement. This guy was VERY good.

"ah excellent! Sten, she's a healthy girl."

Sten had become a little less tense with Sha'kal

Aldercon was shaking his head, "Sha'kal.", he had waited for him to examine for one more thing.

Sha'kal looked back, motioning with his had for Aldercon to give him some time. "Oh um, please do pardon me for asking, but my I take one small sample of your hair, blood and saliva? It's well...a command from you know", he takes out a small glass petri dish and a syringe, I could tell he was a little bit embarrassed about asking.

Toke walked up to Sten and me wondering was this man asking for blood and spit, "aye don't yah think it's a little silly to be asking anyone for all that on someone's back?", he had pointed out my death grip on Sten's pack.

"oh wow, I'm sorry.", Sten just nodded his head and lowered himself for me to jump off.

Aldercon was watching from a distance the whole thing along with a few other Marines.

"Why does he want you to take blood samples from me?", as I ask I see that Sha'kal offers the petri dish, I do as needed of me for the task. "Is...this about the-"

Sha'kal eyes open a little, "Oh actually yes, you see once a month, most of us go through something close to well....oh it's a little silly to say out loud but it happens occasionally-" as he explains this he takes the syringe and sticks it in perfectly without even looking at my arm, "It is a little embarrassing and it gets us into such situations, moodiness, boisterous outbursts, the works. I've been making a suppressor for it for some time and I can't seem to get it right. I had been close a few times before but it's changes every cycle I suppose. Other than that, the effects you must have felt are completely normal for those...well...not fully exposed to us. It's just our bodies reacting to the nutrients on this planet likely enough."

"...so...it's-", I slowly answered back, not fully comprehending the whole situation.

Taking the syringe out of my arm, Sha'kal hums responsivly. "-mmmhmm, completely normal. In fact it happened quite a lot back home. We were just not aware of it as we are here, than again there has been a lot of things...many of us were not aware of.". He cleans up the area with a little wipe and a bandaid.

I wasn't sure what to make of his explanation, I was still worried if, well, something was going to happen. "It's just, well....I felt sick after being near one of them actually, in fact it started to smell like....I don't know like something from an auto shop?"

Sten interjected, "yes, it was unusual....the poor girl was reeking of one of your fists."

A loud, exclaimed grunt had rolled out of Bilhard's mouth as he had just finished his pushups. "Ah that, Urtus had purchased this terrible ointment from a man in town. He stated it would mask any odor.".

Sha'kal was curious as to what this mystery ointment, "hmmm....where is Urtus?"

~~~~~~~

After a long, cold shower, Urtus was applying more of the ointment on his chest in the locker room near the showers. "Tis not the most fragrant thing in the world, but it does smell interesting."

Cahrilo wasn't too keen on the ointment, "it smells like that plant the cantina uses for one of the special menus....what was it called? Garlic?"

Urtus frowned a little at the statement, "Garlic? Ha! It barely smells of the thing, it has even gotten rid of that aching on my neck."

As the two marines were conversing, the facility intercom pings for them, it was Aldercon;

"Urtus, please head to the medical bay immediately. Please bring your recently purchased topical ointment, ON THE DOUBLE."

End of the intercom.

"oh....hmm...I wonder why? Perhaps Sha'kal would like to apply it use?".

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

After a few minutes, Urtus had quickly headed for the medical bay. He opens the door to find not only Sha'kal and Aldercon in the room, but Sten, Bilhard, and I.

Fjord and Toke were waiting in another room to keep them entertained as wait for Sten's and Aldercon meeting to commence.

He looks around and sees me, sitting on an oversized examination table, swinging my legs. The whole place was definitely built for men their size.

"......uh....um....hello miss......ugh good to see that you are ... unharmed?.... Aldercon I thought you stated that mortals were not allowed in the facility....also please believe me and the savage next to her I had not done anything.", of course he was nervous.

"Where is it?", Aldercon curtly asked.

The look on his face when the ointment was mentioned obviously didn't help the situation. He took out a surprisingly large container, it was roughly the size of a mayonnaise lid in diameter and just about as big as a container of that cheaper brand margarine at the store.

Aldercon takes a closer look at the container, "hmm...'Medical Grade DMSO'?. ....what the hell is DMSO?", what was odd was that he asked me as if I knew. The acronym wasn't too unfamiliar to me however, "I remember a long while ago my mother got into a serious fight with my aunt about the stuff but I can't remember why."

Sha'kal took the container, opened it. The smell of garlic was faint but noticable. "Oh my, why on Nocturne would you use this?", asked as he looked at the ingredients label. "This ointment contains small amounts Dimethyl sulfoxide? With a chemical makeup like that it should have practically suffocating Miss Drake here."

All the years of biology class and the literal three chemistry courses had came right back like a Vietnam flashback. "Oh shit that's right, that stuff is used as a paint thinner and car lube."

Urtus was stunned, never in his life would he have expected to be sold paint thinner as some form of solid cologne, "Good throne! Are you serious about that? Why would this be even used for such things?".

A gave a weak shrug, "I have read about these near death home remedies before, sometimes people sell toxic materials to people for profit and sometimes people are desperate and make their own cures out things they shouldn't sometimes."

Aldercon looks at the container, "....from now on. There will be extensive screening on unknown substances."

Sha'kal in the meantime was checking his files on the substances, "ah, it says here the reason why humans began to use it on themselves for medicinal reasons is because it can be used as a pain killer."

It was just then Urtus just realized why his neck pain was gone, "oh....then why is it toxic?".

Sha'kal let out an exacerbated sigh, "likely it's toxic to mortals. We are capable of handling such chemicals naturally through our implants and augmentations Urtus. It's as simple as that."

"Oh goodness, I beg for your forgiveness miss. I shall stop using this right away. I was hoping it would tame a certain condition of mine when the suppressor was not fully in effect....on that thought, how is the other mortal?"

I was glad to see that pretty the entirety of this nonsense was a misunderstanding. "Oh Shelly? She's good ...she even wants to see your friend she liked so much. Oh and it's ok, mistakes happen. Most important thing is that I'm here today to hear your side of the story", I really couldn't stay mad at the guy. He knew who I was talking about, he was even more pleased to see I hadn't taken what had happened in bad faith either.

"Ah, Cahrilo will surely be pleased he has gained an admirer. I hope he enjoys his women well matured. Hahaha.", he looks at Aldercon, hoping he's free to go.

Rolling his eyes and satisfyed with solving the mystery at what had caused the big hole in the transport truck. "You are free to go.".

Urtus nodded, "good day everyone.", he left the room a little more relieved that moment.

Aldercon than looks to Sten, "Are you satisfied?"

Sten had been silently sitting next to me, watching the whole thing. "Yes....as the girl states....the most important thing is that she is alive today....now ..... about our agreement?"

End of Log 7

@kit-williams @barn-anon