#throwing MC around like a rag doll

[harmlessghosty]

Touchstarved love-interests when they first meet a plus-size MC

~ demo spoilers below the cut ~

Kuras carries you out of the Fogfall into Eridia without an issue, bridal style and cautious not to jostle you for fear of making the bleeding much worse. He’s careful placing you onto the operating table, not thinking at all about your weight and how shoddy the equipment in his clinic might be. After all, he’s operated on people as large and larger than Leander, so you’re a drop in the bucket. No judgement at all for your size. In fact, he still finds you fascinating. If you’re entirely out of shape as well, he shows concern for your ability to travel such long distances, but overall, he’s truly just happy to see that you’ve survived. After you leave, he tosses your torn clothing, stopping for a moment to allow himself to think about how wonderful you looked to him.

Leander is immediately smitten. Oh? Someone with curves? With parts that jiggle? How exciting! And you seem just as interested, aren’t you? Why wouldn’t you be, when he’s instantly doting upon you with caresses to your wide hips and nudges to your shoulders in hopes that you might take his hand. To hell with the bandages; he’s interested, but more than that, he’s blinded with a vague sense of lust. After all, his escapades are known throughout Lowtown, though he’s careful to find only the best partners for himself. If he could just get you into that room at the Wet Wick for a moment…but no. He settles for placing his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with curiosity and bewilderment, and charms you with his smile.

Vere watches from a distance at first. His eyes rake up and down your body from his chained-up perch as he wishes he could draw you closer to get a better look. All he can think is that, from behind, you look quite ravishing. He imagines your ass would look nice without that sweater from that awful doctor’s office covering it. Maybe he could have a peek if he manages to flip it up with a sharp breeze? As he teases you for losing your key, he takes long pauses to better observe your shape and keep you guessing, and he struggles to hold back a grin. It’s been some time since he’s seen someone as curvy and fleshy as you in this shit town. He wonders if you might join at the brothel for a rendezvous and implies that you’re always welcome. Though he’s teasing, he does genuinely hope you accept his offer, just so he can see…

Ais is quick to notice your size and smirks to himself. You’re big everywhere too, aren’t you? And he loves it. Look at that—Someone who can match his size and handle his rougher-than-typical approach to attraction. When he shows himself to you, he takes a good, long look up and down your body, practically drooling at the thought of dragging you behind the columns of the Seaspring and seeing what’s under those clothes. Would you move as smoothly as he thinks you might? Maybe you have a cute voice too along with that size. If you didn’t look so mentally weak, little sparrow, then he might throw you into the Seaspring himself to give you a reason to stay. You know he can lift anything with those muscles, not to mention he would love to swing you around like a rag doll, putting you exactly where he wants you.

Mhin doesn’t even think about your size at first. In fact, they’re so focused on their Soulless target that they hardly notice you exist. The moment you start blabbering though, they roll their eyes. You’re frustrating them, getting in the way. Here they are, trying to do their job, and you’re thinking they’re here to save you? Ridiculous. But…Don’t you look interesting in an outfit that they recognize is from Kuras’ clinic. Something that shows off your body in a way they’re not sure whether they like. Are you trying to attract attention to yourself for some kind of gain, or are you just stupid? Don’t you know that, in a place like Eridia, it’s better to blend in? They think to offer you their cloak, but they need it more, after all. Besides, they certainly don’t mind seeing someone with your pretty shape in their line of sight, not that they’d admit it.

[jttwconfessions]

BMW has me in a choke hold- I just wish wukong had me in an actual choke hold- Why is he so hot he's also taller the the MC and just throws him around like a rag doll in all the best🥴🥴

[txemrn]

Pairing: King Liam Rys x MC (Queen Riley Brooks-Rys)

Word Count: ~2400

Music Inspo: "Pearls" by Samantha Gongol

Base in Play: Third Base

Warning: 🔞Mature Audiences Only🔞 NSFW; language; very brief mentions of war

A/N: This is my submission for @springfeverpitch. These events are part of my Pour Two Glasses universe, but you don't have to read PTG to understand this one-shot (it says "duet," but it's only going to be a one-shot). These characters and some plot points belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors. 

~🖤~

Silver shadows from the pale, full moon dance carelessly across the stillness of the inky-dark bedroom. Save for the whisper of the secondhand on a wall clock, the silence is piercing, almost deafening with its loneliness. It's just past 1AM, and after making yet another public appearance solo, Queen Riley Rys has worried herself into an exhausted, lonely slumber. 

The unrest of Central Mali broke out almost two months ago, sending Cordonia as well as other committed allies of the United Nations of the Mediterranean into action to restore peace. King Liam Rys was appointed as a political mediator, and he is currently serving his first classified mission.

It's been nine days since he left. Nine. Nine mornings without his crooning. Nine evenings without his touch. Nine days of not knowing where he is, or if he's alright, or when he's coming back.

Though she had stately matters of her own to tend to, the queen found herself becoming more and more anxious without the other half of her heart near. She was always well-aware that something like this could happen, given her husband’s excellent leadership and peace-keeping skills. She just hoped it wouldn't happen.

With dry streams of mascara settling on the soft contours of her skin, Riley lays across her marriage bed like a broken rag doll: clearly uncomfortable, but clearly desperate for sleep. She's uncovered, her body resting on top of the made-up duvet and topper along with the ornamental throw pillows, unconcerned with the drafty cool air from the night.  

She did manage to grab her husband’s pillow, planting her face cozy amongst the fibers scented like him.  Intoxicated by the remnants of his essence, her body had relaxed into a blissful sleep.

Still adorned in her wine-colored cocktail dress, the weary queen had only managed to remove her heels and shapewear before crashing into bed–and even those items had been thrown chaotically onto the floor. Even her heavily beaded earrings along with their matching pearl necklace remain fastened in place despite the impressions on her delicate skin.

In the stillness of the early morning,  something startles Riley awake. Lifting her head in confusion, she surveys her bedroom, quickly noticing she was still dressed from the fundraiser.  She goes to rub her heavy eyes–and she hears it again. But this time, she recognizes it. Her phone.

Aimlessly reaching around the bed in the blur of the dark, her fingers frantically stumble across her cell. Squinting, she looks at the screen. And then a huge sigh of relief escapes her lungs as she answers.

"Liam?" Her voice roughly croaks. "Baby?"

"Hey, darling," he handsomely chuckles, "have you poured my glass yet?"

Riley squeezes her eyes closed, bowing her head as joyous sobs crawl from her chest. "Are you coming home to me?"

"I am–"

"When?" Riley eagerly interjects, climbing to her knees on the bed. "Please," her breath shudders, "please tell me soon."

"Well, my queen–" suddenly, a deep baritone whisper of an echo floats into the room from the shadows of the hallway.  "--how about… right… now?"

The phone slips through Riley's trembling fingers. Her glistening stormy blue eyes grow wide with indescribable shock as she slowly glances towards the opening bedroom door.

And just like that, he was there, all six-foot-three-inches of his brawny physique, standing in the entrance to their master suite.

"Liam," she whimpers under her breath, "Oh-my-God, Liam!" She stumbles out of bed, dashing into his strong arms.  Crashing into his body, she bounces on her toes, locking her hands behind his neck.

As she jumps, Liam grips firmly under her thighs, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist. His large, wandering hands slip to her ass, his insatiable touch caressing each cheek intimately.

"You're here." Her whimper dissipates into the pulsating air as Liam's mouth instantly melts into her starving pout.  His kiss intensifies, the languid flick of his tongue coaxing her lips apart. Soft mewls of desperation seep from her chest as warm streams spill from her stormy pools.

"I'm sorry," he retreats for air, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry for taking so long to come back to you–"

"Shhh–" Riley hums, sucking gently on his top lip. "You're here now," she heavily breathes as Liam collects her back into a passionate kiss, her mouth swelling against his ravaging bite. 

With an untamed growl spilling from his lips, Liam carries his wife into their bedroom, pinning her docile body to the wall. "Fuck," he exhales roughly, a pained expression on his chiseled face. "I missed you… so much, my queen."  A hand cups the velveteen skin of her cheek, his thumb dragging across her bruised lips. Liam's stone blue eyes eclipse to obsidian as Riley teases the tip of his thumb with her tongue. 

Her doe-shaped eyes entangle with his lust-filled stare; an innocence sparkles in her pools, pleading to be consumed by his carnal heat. "Show me how much, your majesty."

A feral snarl escapes the king as he lowers Riley to her feet. Hastily, he spins her, pressing her to face the wall, her body colliding against the hard surface as he cages her in with his daunting frame. He collects her wrists, locking them above her head with a single hand. His other fist gathers the hem of her dress, exposing the swells of her bare bottom.

With a heady darkness in his timbre, he chuckles, tisking with his tongue. "What do we have here?" He swiftly spanks her ass, a moan belting from her voice. "No panties?" He lets out another titter, his hand massaging the welt growing across her skin. "Have you been missing me, my love? At night?" His palm wanders down her curves, finding her slick, wet center. "Have you been imagining your fingers as me?"

Riley whimpers with greed, feeling her husband's cock grow hard against her lower back. "Liam," she breathes. Unable to move anything else, she presses her backside desperately against his length.

He hisses in pleasure. "Such an eager little queen." He unfastens his belt, and unzips his pants, his considerable size spilling free from its confines.  Barely able to fit his own hand around the girth of his shaft, he pushes himself under Riley. With her pussy drenched with her desire, he slides himself into her slit between her lips, his sensitive head brushing against her clit. "Can you feel…" his breath shudders, biting his lip, "… how much I've missed you now?"  

He slides himself tenderly between her folds as he nuzzles his mouth into her neck, basking in the mewls escaping her throat. Nipping at the delicate flesh on her shoulders, he takes his hardened length in his hand, lining himself up with her slick entrance. "Maybe this will show you how much I’ve–"

Suddenly, Liam's pocket begins to vibrate, the chime of a phone call slicing through the sensual moment.

"Damnit!" He grumbles, silencing the ring as he tosses the phone to a tufted bench. "Now," he tenderly kisses the nape of his wife's neck, caressing her curves fervently. "Where were we?"

His phone alarms again.

But Liam doesn't stop. 

"Baby," Riley grimaces, her husband’s movements becoming harsh, beastly. "Maybe you should–"

"They can fucking wait!" He growls, a piece of his well-groomed, well-styled hair falling into his eyes. "Let's just–" 

There's an abrupt pounding on the door as Liam's phone continues to wail into the darkness of the quarters.

"Liam, it's okay," Riley gently coddles his arm.

"No. This is not okay," he bites, grabbing his phone. "I swear to God, we better be under siege." He glares at his wife, raking back his blond wisps, "and even then, I will take you, ravage you under gunpoint!"

Riley clamps her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter from her husband’s insatiable appetite. She feels unbelievably good, absolutely perfect, indescribably complete having her kinky king reunited with her under one roof. Sure, she can care for herself independently–not to mention, rule an entire country in his absence... but why would she want to if it was her choice?

Liam glares at the unknown number when all of a sudden, the master bedroom door comes crashing in. Riley squeals, pulling the skirt of her dress down as Liam tucks himself painfully back into his pants. 

And he growls.

"Drake!" Liam holds his arms out in a shrug. "What in the actual fu–?"

The king's royal guard snickers, shielding his face with a hand. "Dude, Li, we just dropped you off, like, ten fucking minutes ago–"

"--and you were supposed to be taking inventory of our equipment," he snarls under his breath.

"Well, I was… until someone forgot to get on the call," Drake retorts, crossing his arms. "Maddie has been blowing up my phone, wondering why you haven't joined the UNM conference."

"Conference call?" Riley steps forward, nervously playing with her necklace. "It's the middle of the night–"

"I understand," Drake nods, holding his hands up in defense. "The other allies were notified of Liam's return, and they want to know how everything went."

"Seriously?" Riley raises an eyebrow. "He's been away from his own fucking bed–excuse me–his own bed for nine days. Can they just let Li at least get a good night's sleep?"

Drake gives a pained, sorrowful look at Riley before turning back to his best friend.

"Okay…" Riley's face etches with confusion, "what aren't you guys telling me?"

Liam sighs, dragging his hand down his face. "Drake, tell Maddie I'll take the call from my personal study in five."

The commoner gives a curt nod before excusing himself from the bedroom. Liam saunters closer to his wife before taking her in his arms, resting his lips against her temple.

"William," she ducks out from under his chin, her eyes searching his powder-blue gaze. "Tell me the truth."

He laces his fingers with hers before kissing her knuckles. "Come with me." 

Hand-in-hand, they mosey through the quarters down a long hallway just past the kitchen. Liam and Riley have their own offices in the palace as their point-of-contact throughout the day, but this home study served as an after-hour workbench, a private reprieve for more personal matters while being in the comforts of home and apart from royal security.

Liam guides her into the wood paneled study, surrounded by built-in bookshelves and reference materials. "Baby," he takes her other hand, "I might have to go back."

Riley furrows her eyebrows, a smirk growing on her lips. "Okay," she squeezes his hands, "I know–"

"-- in a few hours," he interjects. 

She freezes, dropping her husband's hands. She starts to smile, but quickly realizes her husband isn't joking.  "No," she whispers before scoffing, her voice becoming angry. "No. Absolutely not."

Liam hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's not the least bit upset with how Riley took the news; he knows exactly how she feels. He's beyond frustrated with the situation himself, and knowing that it's burdening–rather hurting the other half of his heart makes it even worse. 

The past nine days have been a complete nightmare without his wife by his side. Being without her, even for just a moment, is like being robbed of oxygen. He never understood what it meant to be in love; he never understood its all-consuming power, its life-crushing grip, its overwhelming stake it could–and would drive into every fiber of his being… that is until Riley Brooks walked into his life.  And although he is more than competent, more than able, boasting incredible intelligence and wisdom in his skills as a leader, the love he shares with his wife makes everything clearer, better. He never knew he was in the dark before she became his light. He never knew he was thirsty until she became his nourishment. And now that he knows how good life can be, he hates every second away from her.

"That's why they want to hold this briefing," Liam starts, watching Riley pace. "And they agree that if some of the challenges I met during this mission can be solved elsewhere," he sighs heavily, "baby, I'm looking at leaving… in a few hours–"

Riley twirls around, tears gathering in her stormy blues. She stares blankly at her husband. Then, she shakes her head, reality hitting her.  "Do they not realize you have a country and–and responsibilities and a life?" Her words tremble as Liam envelops her in his strong arms.  He fists her dark raven curls, pressing her cheek into his broad chest. 

"Shhh," he lovingly hums, "I know–"

"What about us?" She sniffles. "What about… what about our family?"

"Hey," he hooks his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "We're still us," a crooked smile pulls at his mouth, "and our best years are yet to come, Riley Rys." 

Wrapping her arms around her husband, she rests her head on the firm plains of his chest as he nestles his nose into her curls, breathing her in deeply. "I just really miss you, baby," she barely murmurs.

"I know, love," Liam pushes her hair behind her ear. "But, I'm always going to come back," he lays his palm on his wife's chest, her heartbeat reverberating against his fingertips. "And I'm always right here."

Riley giggles, wiping away her tears. "Pour two glasses?"

Liam presses his lips into hers, a burst of heat blossoming in their touch. "Pour two glasses."

The sudden shrill of the telephone rings from the desk. Liam hugs Riley close, kissing the tip of her nose before reaching for the study phone. 

"Maddie?" He answers, "yeah, I'm here… no, go ahead and put me through… would you like a copy?... I can. Let me send that to…" Liam stumbles over his words as his possessive eyes track his wife, heading towards the exit.  "Hold on, Mads." 

He holds his hand over the receiver as he jogs over to the entryway. As Riley turns the handle to leave, Liam puts his hand on the solid wood, pushing the door closed.

"And… where do you think you're going?"

Riley stares at her husband's hand, the side of her mouth curling into a smirk. She slowly looks up to challenge him, but is instantly captivated by his lust-filled glare. “I was just–”

He holds a finger to her mouth, instantly silencing her as his eyes smolder hauntingly.

“Your king has not dismissed you yet.”

~🖤~

I haven't been feeling great about tags recently, so I am not going to be tagging anyone in this fic. If you are reading this, I appreciate your understanding, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this.

[occasionalsnippets]

Mcs a silly goofy Lil guy

They’re like a little rag doll I shake around and throw at things

[god7072therescue]

I am deceased by these dates!! OMG I WANT TO GO TO JUDO CLASS!!! Sounds like the perfect first date to me lol 

Mysme Fluff Week 2020 | Day 1: Firsts

a/n: hope you guys enjoy my first entry for @mmfluffweek!

Jaehee

• For your first date, you asked if you could join her for a judo class

• There's a sense of pride that surges and swells through your chest as you stand beside your girlfriend going through each movement with precise strength and motion

• Sweat glistens off of Jaehee's brow and your heart stutters, she is the embodiment of strength and perseverance

• At the end of the session, the instructor asks if you'd like to spar with a partner

• Of course he pairs you and her together

• As you circle one another, your pulse quickens and you notice a glitter in her eyes despite the reassuring smile she offered

• She was eager to beat the ever living shit out of you

• At least that's what you guessed

• And, who were you but to oblige?

• Jaehee won that match and you supposed that should have been a given

• Best first date ever.

Jumin

• You were very up front with your darling Jumin that you would have loved to avoid an extravagant first date at all costs

• Because Jumin loved to splurge on you

• That was just a given

• And his initial disapproval at the idea disappeared quickly

• Your comfort mattered most to him

• So this is how you found yourselves walking hand-in-hand down the rows of his vinyard

• A picnic basket weighed down his one hand while the other gently clutched yours

• You felt warmth blossom in your face

• Jumin explained the different types of wine that were made from each row and the different grapes that produced different flavors and different mixes

• Every now and then you found yourself laughing even though he hardly said anything funny

• Not that he minded, because in the corner of your eyes you could see that fond upturn tilt of his mouth and pleased narrowed glance

• Something so simple as the touch of his fingers along yours, the sound of his voice in the good summer air, and the sight of his own delight

• It made you so happy.

Yoosung

• It was old fashioned—but maybe that was your personality

• But for your first date, you went to an arcade

• And Yoosung ate up the entire experience with boyish excitement

• He hopped from one game to the next

• And you followed, laughing and shouting what game you should do next

• Dance, Dance Revolution was definitely your most frequent stop

• You both unabashedly fed token after token into the old-style game

• Both of you were absolutely terrible

• Your sloppy footwork and flailing arms matched in tandem to each other and not the music

• But Yoosung's voice raised aboved the song with his radiating laughter

• And that was enough when you disco, d-i-s-c-o.

Zen

• Zen's grasp was warm and you snuggled closer against his side

• Your first date might have been anti-climatic if you only knew Zen the Actor

• But the Hyun Ryu you loved was a softie

• So fried chicken and beer littered your front coffee table while game shows blarred from the TV

• His lips mindlessly wandered the crown of your head

• While your fingers drummed along the plain of his chest

• His throat reverberated with a tuneless song as his eyes and lips smiled

• You drew your feet up underneath you, and focused on everything around you

• You couldn't have asked for a better first date.

For those of you who notice Seven is missing, I'd just like to mention that Seven's good route triggered me multiple times. He's just someone that I cannot write for, I'm sorry😔 but I hope you enjoy the rest of the crew!

[nextinline-if]

I just got an idea after thinking about the prank wars, I can just imagine MC and James doing Thor and Loki’s “Get Help” strategy 😭😭, could u do ros + queen’s reaction to the twins doing this? I can practically feel queen vivian’s exasperation and fondness for her children lol, let’s just say that they were in a desperate situation and it was a golden opportunity to do “get help” (w/ mc taking on thor’s role) Thank you so much dear author!! 💖

omg lol I totally did not have the clip on replay while writing this lmao

"Alright, I know what we have to do," you tell your brother.

James' exhausted face brightens. "Okay, wise Harbinger, how are we going to distract these castle invaders?"

You glance around the corner where your mother and friends are being held hostage. You nod your head and look back at your brother. "Get Help."

"What? Are you talking about that thing stupid thing dad taught us when we were training?" James gives you a skeptical look.

"It's not stupid," you insist. "It's perfect for this."

"We are not doing 'Get Help'."

You smile. "We're doing it."

James rolls his eyes. "Fine, come on then." He puts his arm out.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Don't be silly, brother. I'm the heir. You'll be playing the helpless one."

He frowns. "No way!"

You grab his shirt and pull him forward, he lets out a quiet yelp. "Oh, yes, dear brother."

A moment later, you trudge around the corner, your brother hanging off of your shoulder, his eyes closed. It takes everything in you not to laugh at how dumb he looks. "Get help!" you shout, causing everyone in the room to look your way. "Please, my brother's dying! Get help!"

You ignore the startled looks of your mother and friends and move closer to the invaders who have puzzled looks on their faces.

"Get help," you say, preparing to throw your brother. "Help him!" James' body goes flying through the air, knocking down all four of the intruders, along with their swords.

James lets out a groan as he stands up. You laugh. "A classic."

Your brother gives you the nastiest glare you've ever seen. "It's humiliating."

You smile widely and straighten your back, surveying the scene. "Not for me, it's not."

Vivian: Vivian turns away from everyone, trying to calm her face and her heart. When you came around the corner, she thought James was truly hurt. She closes her eyes for a moment. And then she smiles smugly. My two perfect children, she thinks. She lets out a quiet laugh, thinking that Percival would have enjoyed this.

Constantine: Constantine shakes his head, both from amusement and relief. Everyone's fine. His eyes dart to you, then James, then back to you. He can't help but grin. How the hell did you talk James into being thrown around like a rag doll? He chuckles and claps James on the back. "Nice acting," he tells him with a smirk. James just glares at him.

Felix: Felix bites his lip as he looks you over. Such a badass, he thinks. His eyes dart to James and he can't help but smirk. He's never going to let James live this down. He glances over at F. Well, this was a useful lesson for the future, never know when you might need to throw your sibling to the wolves.

Margaret: Margaret was worried when she heard your voice calling for help. Then she realized it was for James. I mean, sure, James is important but he's not you. Margaret's been in plenty of hostage situations but this one takes the cake for the most interesting. She'll have to ask you later where you learned something so ridiculously genius.

F: Of course, you came up with a plan. You always know what to do. F is never wrong to put faith in you. They smile at you from across the room where you're punching James in the shoulder. F was sure Constantine and Margaret were going to get them out of here, but this was better. No bloodshed.

[obesericewrites]

I went to a camp where people were excercise and we also wrestled my opponent was my i didn't think it will be very hard to defeat her since we have similar weight and physique ( i am 5'2/153cm 47kg/103lbs and she is 5'4/162cm and 50kg/110lbs) we picked our own opponent and we picked each other and we fought 6times and i lost 6 times(talk about embarassing) now my body hurted like a bitch (it used to hurt when i breath) it's been three days my body still hurt but not that much i can breath normally it didn't hurt for a whole day and then it did and i took a day off

How would ro's and dawn(she is so cute 🥺)will react if mc did the same thing

But dawn have my ❤️ i wanna squeeze her so she will pop(i wouldn't do that)

It’s a basic and universal human emotion to both love something adorable and at the same time destroy it for absolutely no reason 😂

Scenario: MC wrestles someone just a bit bigger then them and go for about six rounds and lose, how would the ROs+Dawn react?

M: They love wrestling. M often wrestles with Dawn or wild animals, so, seeing you wrestle catches their attention. When you get thrown around like a rag doll and pinned to the ground with ease, M feels both distress and extremely entertained.

M wouldn’t even try to help, worried it might offend other humans around them and just cheer you on. When you lose and they have to carry you out, they’d be making random noises mixed with words as they go to your shop, “nhmm…stronger legs…ehh..” is all you could understand in your barely conscious state.

M is full parental mode the next day, feeding you and massaging your legs and back. But the entire time they would be talking and giving you advice, they aren’t that self aware. Especially when you’re asleep and their still talking.

S: S is shouting the second you get body slammed. If you think it’s shouts of alarm, you are quickly corrected when you hear their wild crackles of joy when you get thrown around. “C’mon, MC! You can do better than that!!”

S makes things so much worse for you. The amount of trash talk they say to your opponent, along with hyping up the crowd. Your embarrassment is seen by everyone. S is shameless when they carry you away towards your shop, “That was amazing, darling! By the goddesses, you sure put in a fight!!” You chose to fade out of consciousness to ignore them.

No matter how much they tease you, S takes great care of you the next day. Massaging your back and legs, practically babying you as they shower you with gifts and treats. They are an asshole but at least they have standards.

B: They are panicking, they attempt to cheer you on and encourage you; but they are mostly silent due to their worry. They awkwardly float around the fight, grimacing as you get throw around.

The second your done, B drags you away. “By the gods, you fool! You should’ve at least warned me, I had a heart attack watching you get thrown around!” They are scolding you the entire time to your shop, your mind is already mushing around your skull. So most of their words get lost like you consciousness.

The next day, B is around you like a mother hen. You need something to eat? They are their to give you some healthy foods and some soothing tea. Your muscles are sore? They have the hands to smooth out pain with ease.

Dawn: She tries to join, throwing herself onto your opponent and manages to pin them to the ground with ease. When you drag her off and tell her you got this, she watches you get thrown around.

She is babbling the entire time, cheering you on and making very intimidating noises for a ten year old when you lose multiple times. When you lose, she nearly rips your opponents eyes out until you drag her away with her kicking and screaming. She is shameless when you bring her to your shop and heal yourself.

“Cant believe you not let me attack them! I should be let to fight for honor! Humans have such funny rules to these things!” She snaps, poking at your bruises with the tip of her nail. She calms down when you two both get a cup of tea to share.

M is not amused when they get Dawn back rowdy and attempting to body slam them.

[emberwood-if]

When you mentioned that Dani is a intense teacher I feel like that means they would mercilessly throw MC around like a rag doll

LMFAOHFHSHS

Dani would if they think it means it’ll teach MC something ! But Perry would be quick to be like “no, not like that”

[7-deadly-simpin]

I’ve been reading ur post and I just wanna request the brothers reacting to MC being fully able to fight back and win against belpie but didn’t in fear of hurting him? Probably knowing he would be a strong opponent too sorry if it’s too much😅

Yes, give MC the power...! This turned out way more crack centered than I expected 😂 please enjoy the picture I NEEDED to make upon seeing this request:

Demon Brothers React to Badass MC

🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔Ding Ding🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔

Lucifer ->

What in the Devildom?!

I mean, initially mans is upset with the entirety of the situation.

You disrespected his wishes and ended up unleashing his youngest brother who's having a temper tantrum.

In the shock of Belphie grabbing MC, they yeeted poor cow demon boi across the room.

Takes note to ask Diavolo if you're actually human.

Lucifer be looking at MC like 👀

Mutters a "Well helloooo" under his breath

Mammon ->

First impression: "Holy F*ck human..!"

Second impression: Wait...is that why MC chuckled every time I said the Great Mammon would protect them???

*Yelling like hes at a professional UFC match*

"Oi that's my human!"

"Place ya bets for who wins this round!" 💰💰💰

*Brothers all look back at him in equal shock*

"Oh..uh...Oi, that's my brother you're throwing!"

*whispering behind MC* "Kick his butt MC!"

Levi ->

*Levi.exe has stopped functioning properly*

Did..did you really block an attack from a demon WITH YOUR ARM?!

YOU DIDN'T EVEN FLINCH?!?

Has to take a few moments to process how to word again.

"Yo MC, you some kind of anime protagonist???"

You better tell him if you are!!

Instantly falls in love.

Mans got heart eyes and all 😍

Oh wait shit....uhh belph...you good?

Satan ->

Excuseh MOI?? 🙀

*glass shattering meme*

Actually speechless for the first time in centuries.

Stands stupefied while his brothers are all screaming nonsense.

Doesn't even look to see if Belphie is okay, he's sure he is.

His eyes are too busy zeroed in on MC looking like they could take on the world.

This human....oh my

Oh shit, ya boi in love 😻

Amgry blush because this is the exact moment he realizes he might have a type.

Asmo ->

"MC look out! I JUST did your nails darling!"

*dramatic yelling*

MC: "One moment Asmo, kind of in the middle of something."

Gazes on in amazement as MC holds amgry bull literally by the horns.

Not sure whether to be shocked or turned on.

Hint, he's both.

He knows he shouldn't be cheering on a human while his brother gets tossed around like a rag doll.

But you go MC! Kick his ass! 📣👏

Make him pay for messing up your nails! 💅

Reluctantly pays to get Belphies nails done too.

Beel ->

Heard the *ding ding* of what he assumed was a dinner bell.

*rushes over excitedly* 🏃‍♂️💨

Met with the sight of his twin and MC lunging at each other.

Belphie got knocked clean off his feet, you're both fine....?

Filled with enough emotions to make him forget about his hunger for a few seconds.

*Grabs you both, one in each arm and hums happily as he hugs his two favorite people* ♡

Kind of hard to keep fighting when the gigantic softie is hugging you both.

Safe to say, thanks to Beel you ended your fight in a tie.

Belphie ->

Mans is shooketh.

He came at you thinking he was gonna wreck your shit.

You're still standing???

Looking like you took no-

*has been yeeted*

Sitting with his ass in the air, staring at his brothers upside down in complete confusion.

🙃⁉️

Doesnt want to admit hes somewhere between impressed and crushin'.

Hides embarrassment by covering himself with his tail.

*love interest #7 has entered the chat*

[leo-interactive-fiction]

How would the ROs react if they saw one of their family members showing MC their embarrassing childhood photos 

E’s mother lifts the photos out of their reach, stepping around your desperately grasping companion as she tuts, “What else will I have to show for my maternity, if not the ability to completely embarrass my child in front of their crush? Did you know they used to call bath time ‘tubby time’? It was all very cute.”

E is naturally petrified by these developments, “N-No! They don’t need to know about that!”

------

R’s father flips through older photos with a cold detachment before allowing them all to flutter to the ground, “You used to be such a promising child. What an unfortunate deviation you’ve made.”

R stares at a settled picture resting on the ground, their entire family crowding into the frame, “I guess I grew wise.”

------

L’s life is a well-documented timeline, from the many scholarly achievements and accolades they’ve received to their more shameful moments of acting out scenes from books they’ve read and getting startled by crabs at the beach, the latter now in full display in a small scrapbook that came in the mail with a small note attached reading, “Never forget your beginnings --Walter”

L attempts to hide the pages by forcibly closing the book, laughing skittishly, “S-Surely we don’t need to look through every page...”

------

An aged man with greyed stubble and a ragged duster reveals faded pictures of V, their visage covered in crimson stains as they stand among similarly adorned figures surrounding a campfire, charred bones resting in its embers.

You watch as V presses their back against the wall in an attempt to create as much distance as possible, an uneasy panic in their eyes as they begin hyperventilating.

The man stares with an unnatural acuity for his years, talking to you with an unconcerned, gravelly voice, “I reckon you have something of mine. I’ll be having it back now, if I may.”

------

Picture of a much younger and softer-looking P in floaties, trying determinedly to paddle against the water is snuck to you by their twin until their snickering draws the attention of the firebrand.

After they forcibly take the picture and realize what it is, it ignites into fire and proceeds to ash in P’s hand, “I’m real curious to know what the fuck you think you were doing with this.”

------

You get a text message from M, asking if you want to see the cute baby pictures that they randomly found! Curious, you say yes. Moments later, your phone beeps again, but when you open it up you don’t expect to find a more suggestive picture of their adult figure. It’s on your screen for mere seconds before disappearing, replaced with a small “oops” before the actual baby pictures are sent.

When you try to question them about the first picture later, they plead ignorance. “Maybe...you have...a very...vivid...imagination...I do too...”

------

A black-haired woman delicately holds the charred edges of Raven’s faded picture, paling at its contents and looking visibly shaken, “Where did you get this?”

“Is that all you have to say?” Raven paces slowly around the woman like a shark circling prey, hissing out, “It’s been so long since you’ve seen me, hasn’t it? Though I’ve always been there...right underneath the floorboards of that witch hut.”

The woman’s hand tightens around the picture, crumbling it into a ball as their voice fills with a mixture of grief and rage, “I have nothing to say to you! I don’t know you and I don’t want to. Get out of my life!”

------

S’s family descends upon them like a crashing wave, their siblings attaching themselves like restraints to their arms and legs as ma and pa open their arms in celebration. Pa gives a gruff chortle, “To think I’d see the day ya’d bring someone back ‘ere! When’s the ceremony s’posed ta be?”

Ma chimes in, pulling you in with a homely embrace, “Well aren’t ya jus’ a doll? Come, come, I’ll show ya aroun’, an’ get out the pictures!”

“Ah no, Ma, not the pictures,” S dully argues, only to be pulled back by their siblings, the oldest of them smirking deviously.

“Ain’t no fightin’ it now, ya big sissy.”

“Who ya callin’ sissy?” S picks them up, throwing them onto their shoulders and parading them around as the younger ones begin jumping for a turn next.

“Don’t ya mind them,” Ma tells you sweetly, directing you back to the small frames photos of S digging through the scrapyard piles, showing off interesting items they discovered in the unorganized mess.”

------

Pictures of a younger and brighter-eyed F tumble onto the table between you and Fern, a serpentine smile parting his mouth as he casually looks between each photo. “This was your fifth birthday, was it not? I believe you spent the majority of it frolicking in the woods. Our brother always did enjoy those delusions of yours.”

“What are you playing at?” F narrows their eyes as they flick between the table and their sinister brother, “I have high doubt you came simply to reminisce.”

“Would that be so bad? No matter. I’m only offering a little perspective for that servant of yours,” Fern gives you an inspecting look as though sizing up a cut of meat. “There are other pieces at play than a starry-eyed traditionalist unwilling to fall a few trees for the good of our nation. Consider this an opportunity at...better employment.”

F stands suddenly, interrupting the proceedings with a terse finality, “Your appearance was appreciated.”

------

Haha, there’s some fluff and some angst, hope ya enjoy!

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

Chapters 3-5 of The Passed Out Princess

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran See all chapters

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Warnings and notes found in chapter 1-2

Without taking a second to assess the situation, he began his tantrum, entering the room without even a knock out of courtesy.

“Finally getting what you wanted and you’re laying down on the bed as if nothing matters! You should be grateful I even thought to check up on you!”

The door shut behind him with a slam.

“Well then? Up. Get up, toy. I didn’t come all the way out here to watch you sleep!”

Saeran made his way over to the bed, almost in a stomping manner.

Uyu let out a small groan, attempting to pick herself up to look him in the eyes, disobeying one of his direct orders on purpose even now. With some shifts, she made her way to sitting up at the edge of the bed close to him with a slouch in her posture. Moving about to face him signaled her forehead to throb again, causing her to instinctively lift her hand to touch it beneath her bangs, a wince escaping her mouth.

“Is that all you’ve got to show me how much I’m making you suffer? Tch. Pathetic! You suck. Take more lessons from Zen while you’re chatting with him so damn much. Maybe he can at least teach you to cry on command for me. Didn’t you take theater classes before or something?”

The tall man in black towered over her as he spoke, icy eyes glaring at her through marshmallow colored fringe which fell over them in his lean forward. His lips curled into a wicked grin before he broke the awkward silence again.

“Well then...what would you like to refer to this issue as? Tell me. You must have weaved quite the story in preparation for my arrival. Out with it!”

Uyu mustered up some strength to mutter out a little of what he needed to know, embarrassed having to explain herself and call for his help when he appeared to be nothing but cruel to her.

He had shouted at her. He had shoved her a little. He had pinned her against a wall and trapped her like a wolf hunting a small, doe eyed rabbit.

And now, here she was teaching him about one of her medical conditions. Needless to say, she wished it possible to pretend it all wasn’t happening.

“..I have chronic low blood sugar. If...my hunger goes unchecked…..it just drops...my blood sugar I mean... and I get sick….it’s undocumented as there’s not much else doctors can do other than tell me to eat..”

Oh the shame.

“Pfft-”

Saeran cackled, loudly, higher in pitch, his voice reaching a part of his lungs that made it almost wheezy.

“Seriously? I hate how your list of problems is so long a fool might have believed you. You’re so damn weak. Say... I wonder...should today’s playtime be me dangling food in front of your face, then? Come on. Let’s get you to stand first, hmm? Then I’ll fetch you something sucky...like raw carrots...and you’ll hop for me like a pet bunny in desperation. I’ll even be so kind as to help you to your feet. What do you say, princess? Would you like that? A gentlemanly hand extended to you from your master?”

He reached down, pulling her hand away from her forehead and clasping it in his right, intertwining her small fingers with his long and slender ones. She shivered at his touch, him being so much colder than she was, as if his hand had been resting in a freezer while apart from her.

“...No...Saeran I might throw up again-”

“Sure you will~”, he cooed, bringing his face to hers.

“Where is that vomit, by the way? Did you oh so conveniently make it to the toilet so it’s all flushed away and gone? Haha...it’s hard to play with a toy who won’t even stand…so up! I’ll help you now, giving you that sweetness you oh so crave. On the count of three! One...two…”

Uyu shook her head as she attempted to pull back away from him, but her hand was still trapped in his firm grip, growing stronger as she attempted to resist.

“Three!”

Saeran gave her a jerk forward, the pull almost sending her to hit the ground before she caught herself on his arm.

“Wow! She did it! She stands! See that wasn’t so har-”

Dan felt the blood seem to rush out of her brain and downwards in a waterfall motion as that hot and cold chill returned. Her legs teetered as she lost balance, falling before grasping at him, ending up in his arms entirely, Saeran trying to avoid being knocked over himself. She let out a “brrr” noise as she shuttered, so dizzy the room felt as if it were doing somersaults and tumbles as it tossed her limp body around.

“Toy? Toy! What the hell kind of a stunt...”

Saeran pulled her away from him to get a better look at her as her head rolled to the side feebly. He held the woman out by her shoulders in front of him as if she were a little rag doll he wanted to shake back and forth to somehow bring life back into her.

“Start speaking to me! It’s not funny! You can quit the act now…stop doing that…”

His tone grew softer as the sound of a stiffness in the back of his throat made itself known, gulping as if swallowing a ball. He spoke again through gritted teeth.

“Not funny….I’m getting angrier….pull yourself together, toy…”

And with a little jostle from him, her guts felt a sudden whirl before a solid drop as did her head, the color black with spirals seizing her sight as she could no longer sort of keep herself upright. Saeran let go of her shoulders, feeling her whole weight lean in on him, catching her before she could fall.

Dan had finally blacked out cold exactly at noon, leaving Saeran alone, drowning in a sea of his own panic.

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

Saeran held her close to him for a minute out of shock, his captivating eyes wide, stunned and not wanting to witness what he was responsible for. With Uyu completely slumped into him, he maneuvered his arms around her to allow her frail unconscious body to lean backwards. He didn’t want to believe he caused her to actually pass out, supporting her with his left arm and gently caressing her soft cheek with the back of his right hand.

A part of him feared he had caused the unthinkable.

He spoke in a strained whisper.

“Princess…?”

Not to his surprise, he received no reply, not even the slightest sign that she was faking. He huffed gently as his bottom lip began to quiver...his underlying worry that she wasn’t indeed fooling him appeared now true. He pulled her close to his chest again, his heart hammering against her as he cursed under his breath, thoughts racing so fast he felt a headache of his own coming on.

“Shit….”

Saeran went down onto his knees, still cradling her as her head rested in the crook of his neck, scooching her so she was sitting on his lap. His heart hurt...it physically hurt...a crushing squeezing pain that made him want to rip it from his chest entirely. It felt as if a rose bush had wrapped its way around it, winding an elaborate cage of thorns which pierced through like a million needles; the prettiest rose wilted in his hands because he couldn’t give it basic sunlight and water. The rose which bloomed within Ray’s heart...unlike Ray, Saeran wasn’t a nurturing gardener. Screaming at a flower for not growing into what you wished it to become will do nothing. Or...was it that the flower had already blossomed as he tried to force it closed, back into becoming a bud? Either way, he could now feel the dryness of its shriveled petals as his first tear spilled down his hot cheek.

“You don’t seem so tough now…..aren’t you supposed to be able to handle what I throw at you?”

He pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her floral conditioner he once insulted overwhelming his senses.

With heavy shame and panic, the built up water in his tear ducts came trickling down in little glistening, frequent streams upon his pale face. He shook like a leaf in the wind.

“...I did it. I defeated you. Damn you. This was supposed to be better….feel better. I was promised this was what I wanted...but you made it too easy. I hate a lack of challenge...”

He lifted his head before scooping her up bridal style, carrying her to the princess bed to lay her down somewhere comfortable. Upon her back with her hair partially sprawled out behind her, her position resembled that of sleeping beauty, the one who cursed her to sleep as well as the one who could save her life sharing the same body. Saeran’s kiss could not wake her as the one who made her prick her finger on that spinning wheel, and her prince charming was gone, banished away as he could not stand the cruelties of the dark castle’s dungeons. Or at least, that’s how he felt; that he was acting as the Maleficent of this long tale.

He stared at her for a while, breathing rapidly as his chest puffed up and down, bewildered, seething and puzzled as to why this all hurt him so. His savior promised knocking Dan down was the way to go...after all, she corrupted Ray, disobeyed the savior and caused Ray to do the same, made Ray have to be cleansed...she was no good for him; a liar and a manipulator. That’s what his savior told him, and she was never wrong, was she?

He tried to take her state in again as he watched her, drinking up her lifelessness, pushing himself to feel positive about it. It was a good thing. This was a good thing. The savior might even congratulate him for this. He might even receive praise for doing the opposite as Ray had done, feeding her well put together meals despite not even having the time to sleep. Or, would the savior scold him for besting her too early? After all, she was still essential to bringing down the RFA, as useless as he made her seem to be.

“Yes, that’s it,” he thought. He HAS to make sure she’s ok so she can carry out her job. But why did it seem like so much more than that as he felt a soreness seeing her hurt? He put his hands in his hair, tugging at the white messy tufts by the roots as he audibly panted, feeling himself being sent into a frenzy of angry and confused alarm. He gasped and shook as his eyes glazed over and color drained from his complexion, internally feeling a tug a war between his yearnings and what he had been told. A few broken “ahs” and whimpers left his open mouth as Saeran stumbled backwards, bumping his heel on the bedside table with a thunk. His tears would not cease.

It felt as if no matter how he rationalized what had just happened, matching it to his savior’s wishes and words she whispered into his ears, he couldn’t find it within himself to feel successful or triumphant in any manner. He whipped himself around to avoid looking at the passed out princess, his gaze meeting a vase with fresh flowers left by Ray which she slept beside every night. This room was so full of her...so full of him...so full of them and their time spent together. With a loud crash, he knocked it over, the smashed bits aligning the floor as the water lay in a puddle, the flowers undamaged, surrounded by the mess.

He chewed skin off his lip, leaving it pinker and salty in taste. To avoid his savior’s disapproval, for acting so weak and for making Dan so ill, Saeran decided it was best to handle the entirety of the situation on his own. He licked away the bead of red hot blood, brimming from where he bit off skin before collecting himself to a degree to clean up what he had done.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a while, analyzing his features and making certain his emotions were concealed. He needed to hide his trembles and sobs if he were to re-enter the halls, wearing the iron mask of the strongest believer.

—————————————————————————————————-

Locking the door to keep Dan alone and safe, Saeran made his way around until he reached the place’s kitchen, keeping his head low to avoid the need to strike conversations or bark orders. The believers knew by now that his brisk walking and low hanging head meant no one was to disturb him, as he was probably doing something of importance for the savior. Same went for Ray, even. This made his trip rather quick and easy, even with the glances and stares he received in the halls. He paid no attention to the whispers which followed them.

“I’m hungry. Whip up something and make it fast. Doesn’t matter what as long as it’s got all the food groups and doesn’t taste like utter garbage.”

After Saeran commanded the Mint Eye chefs to get to work on a dish specially “for himself”, he pulled out his android phone to do a quick Google search on what might help with Uyu’s condition. From that he was able to piece together that candy and sugar can help provide immediate relief, for just a moment, as it would spike her blood sugars.

“Do we still have any candies around here? I want a few of those.”

“Yes Mr. Saeran sir...there are some mint candies and chocolates in the cabinet by your head…to the right. We got them recent-”

“No need to point it out and ramble. I know my way around the kitchen. Next time, just a simple yes unless I ask you to say more.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mint Eye was rather used to not seeing Saeran or Ray at meal times unless the savior requested him to attend and sit by her side, so to them, him taking his dinner to go was more normal.

He opened the white cupboard door, seeing numerous clear jars they’d set out on display during meal times. He shoved his hand into the chocolates first, taking it out empty then deciding to go for the mints, remembering “the little thing can’t have dairy.” Grabbing a solid handful of the sweet safe for her to eat, he shoved it all into the pockets of his dark suit, then leaning against the wall, eyeing the chefs at work.

As Saeran himself requested a meal, it was going to be elaborate and made by a whole team in an effort to please him, worry that a mistake could send them to be cleansed acting as a great motivator. Two people off to the right made small garlic potatoes while another two prepared a red wine sauce, to go with the steak a different believer was making. This did not include the last pair, which made stir fried vegetables, one cooking and one cutting.

The kitchen was quiet apart from the sounds of the sizzling, chopping, and stirring; Saeran swallowing saliva as his adam’s apple rolled up and then down, feeling the weight of the fear the room felt towards him. Many times, he saw that kitchens were depicted as being so loud and fun, full of life and chatter unlike this one. Saeran commanded authority and respect, yes, but none of these people would even dare say more than a yes sir no sir to him, let alone smile and act friendly. Would they even smile and talk if he wasn’t there? Or, was joy something this place had always lacked, him just now noticing because of the horribly confusing pit in his stomach at the moment? For the most part, he was on his own, the kindness he received from the savior being all he had to look forward to. And it was always enough for him, as the anxiety he provoked just being in the same room as the believers usually filled him with glee. But then...Ray found someone else who’d show him sweetness. A different kind of sweetness. One that would make his face hot to the touch and heart glow, as if he were under the bright blue sky getting a sunburn, sugary treats melting and dancing on his tongue with new flavors he just wasn’t used to. It was nerve racking and yet so energizing at the same time, something to look forward to as he snuck around to see Dan for so long. Saeran at least could say he found her words to be rather interesting, keeping him on his toes the brief time that they properly spoke together. And by brief...he meant three times. That dork passed out after they had only talked to each other three times.

He was used to the feeling of people trying to tear up his body and soul with their nails from the inside out...but not in the way she did. She at least spoke such honeyed words and phrases, sugar coated in such an unlike recipe as did the glaze which covered his savior’s. Even when telling him something harsh, Dan clarified that his best interest was always in her mind. Ray wished for more of this as he asked her to wreck his head outright. A foolish thing really. Or so Saeran was told.

“Umm...Mr. Saeran...your dish is ready.”

He picked up his stare from the floor to the believer now speaking to him as his train of thoughts were broken off. No matter how much of a display he tried to put on, his mind was somewhere else, somewhere it shouldn’t be. Thinking about someone it shouldn’t be.

“Yes, good. I’ll take the plate to my room as I’m very busy with my important work. Bring me some silverware and a napkin. And a water bottle. And cover the food so it stays warm.”

“Yes sir. For eternal paradise.”

“For eternal paradise..”

The kitchen staff said nothing to his face about the redness which surrounded his mint eyes and the tip of his nose, but behind his back was a different story.

Next chapters All chapters

[gureishi]

Hi hello hi.

I’ve got a bunch of wonderful prompts sitting in my inbox but I was feeling anxious af yesterday and today I had to go to a freakin Zoom funeral and my anxiety brain instead spewed out...this.

I was watching a playthrough of the Forgive ending to try and sort out the timeline for the Jihyun request I’m writing (which I should be posting tomorrow~ <3) and then I started thinking about the disturbing little hints that are in there about depressed Saeyoung and alcohol, and then my anxiety said I needed to write about it. So I transposed that thought into another timeline so my boy could have an mc cause god knows otherwise it would get way worse.

I know alcohol is a really sensitive topic when it pertains to the Choi twins because of their trauma relating specifically to alcohol and alcoholism. To be super super clear, drinking can be fine and okay and not harmful for lots of people, but that’s not the type of drinking I’m portraying here. 

YEESH, I’ll stop rambling. Cw for alcohol abuse; if Saeyoung drinking alcohol is gonna be triggering for you please skip this one. Take care of yourself I love you <3

wanna be ok

The bunker is dark when you get home, and that is your first sign that something is wrong. 

You’re off work a little early, and you fully expected to find the house bright and full of energy. Usually at this time, there would be at least one brother in the living room. There’d be a half-built robot croaking gibberish in a corner or an inexplicable mess from some overly enthusiastic project in the hall.

But when the door slides open (greeting you by name, of course), you’re met with darkness and a startling, eerie quiet. Could they both have fallen asleep…? You check your watch. It’s just after nine.

“Saeyoung…?” You slip off your shoes, calling quietly in case he really is asleep. He hasn’t been sleeping much since his father’s investigation began, waking up at night and pacing the house. Sometimes he does fall asleep at the computer, even these days…

No answer. You peek into the darkened living room. Nothing. No light from his office or the bedroom, either.

You hear a noise and spin, senses on high alert. All your instincts telling you that something is certainly off, you peer warily around the corner.

He’s in the kitchen.

“Babe?”

He’s perched precariously on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. His arms are everywhere, splayed over the scrubbed wood; he’s slumped over, head in the crook of his elbow. His hair is mussed as though he’s been running his hands through it.

None of this surprises you too much—it’s much a difficult few days. But what does startle you is the stale, harsh smell in the air. There’s a bottle on the counter that looks suspiciously like…

Dread settles in your stomach like hot lead.

You call his name again, some foolishly optimistic part of your mind hopeful that this is an off-color prank. But this isn’t the kind of thing he jokes about.

At the sound of his name, he stirs, lifts his head. As he does, he slips to the side, almost falling off the stool—catching himself at the last minute on the island.

He blinks at you blearily, as if he’s trying to get you into focus, and you know in that moment that he’s not messing with you.

“Hiii, babe,” he slurs, his voice thick. He tries to say your name, stumbles over it. Laughs at himself.

“Honey.” You approach him cautiously. Closer up, the smell is unmistakable—it’s whiskey, mingling with his natural spicy-sweet scent in a way that you find particularly unsettling. “What did you do?”

He tries to spin around in the stool to face you and nearly falls again—you have to reach out an arm to grab him. He gazes at you dizzily, his eyes glazed over.

“Wha’ d’you mean?” he mumbles, his words running together. He sways dangerously on the stool and you put a hand on his shoulder, bracing him. Out of the corner of your eye, you peer at the bottle beside him—it’s one you’d gotten as a gift ages ago and put away in a closet. It’s more than half empty.

“Baby, why did you drink that?” You shift, taking his face in both your hands; he’s unstable again without your hand on his shoulder. You turn him, make him look you in the eye—and he tries, he tries, but his gaze slides over your face as though he can’t quite focus on it.

“You’re pretty,” he sings, and he leans forward as if to kiss you—and misses, his head falling onto your shoulder. “Missed,” he says, giggling. His hands reach clumsily for your waist.

It would be almost cute, you think, under other circumstances. If it weren’t Saeyoung, who doesn’t drink alcohol. Who’s promised himself never to drink alcohol—and for good reason.

He presses his lips against your neck, tilting sideways as he does so. Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. You know how to deal with drunk people, under normal circumstances. Just pretend it’s not Saeyoung. Just for now.

“Come with me, baby,” you say, expertly evading his grasp and offering him both your hands. “Let’s go sit somewhere a little more comfy, okay?”

“Don’wanna,” he mumbles, titling to the right. “Comfy here.”

“You’ll be comfier on the couch, I promise.” You keep your voice light. Taking both his hands, you give a gentle tug, and he obliges you, sliding off the stool without any of his usual grace or agility. He sways as he lands on his feet and you brace him with both hands again, waiting till his gaze clears. 

You lead him to the living room and he comes obediently, albeit stumblingly.

“…m’too drunk for this,” he mutters, laughing at himself as he narrowly avoids running face-first into the door frame.

“Too drunk to walk to the living room?” You guide him more carefully now. Most people would be well and truly messed up from the amount that he drank—based on your cursory assessment of the kitchen, anyway. For him—someone who has, to your knowledge, quite literally never consumed alcohol before—it’s astonishing he’s even still conscious.

You steer him to the couch. He hesitates and you turn to him—his face has gone pale, and he claps a hand over his mouth.

“M’gonna…never mind.” He shuts his eyes.

With some difficulty, you get him onto the couch. He slides sideways immediately and you slip a pillow under his head. He smiles a sloppy, lopsided grin.

“…galaxy,” he murmurs, sinking heavily into the pillow. You don’t question it.

Confident that he’s not going anywhere, you make your way back to the kitchen, fill a big glass with water. Now that you’re alone, your hands are shaking.

It’s not the end of the world to get drunk, but it’s certainly less than great to do it alone. It’s worse, though, so much worse, because it’s him—because of the promise he made to himself, because of the memories of his mother’s violence, because of the fear you know he has of those same genes manifesting in him.

You know that the last few days have been difficult, that the trial’s brought up memories he’d long repressed. But you wouldn’t ever have anticipated…this.

What could possibly have happened?

You take in the havoc in the kitchen: in addition to the whiskey bottle, there’s a glass knocked over on its side as well as the usual debris from chips and other junk food. One of the stools is on the ground.

And where, you think suddenly, is Saeran?

You take a deep, steadying breath—care now, you remind yourself. Figure out the rest later.

When you return to the living room with the water, he’s crying. 

His eyes are shut tight and he’s wrapped both arms around the pillow; there are tear tracks on his cheeks and as you approach he lets out a quiet, pitiful sob.

“Sweetheart…” You kneel beside him and he wriggles toward you like a wounded animal. You bring a hand to his face and wipe away the tears and he clumsily throws out one arm and dangles it over your body.

“Drink a little bit of this, please, love.” You tilt the cup toward his mouth and he opens his lips the tiniest bit. You get a little water in him; most of it ends up on the couch.

“…still hates me,” he mutters, pushing aside the cup, nuzzling his face into your chest. You stroke his messy, tangled hair with your free hand, pulling it off his forehead.

“Who does, baby?” 

“Saeran…does.”

You run your fingers over his feverish skin; his cheeks are flushed and his forehead is warm to the touch.

“Saeran doesn’t hate you, honey. I promise he doesn’t.” You try again with the water. It’s a little more successful this time.

“Does. We hadda…fight,” he slurs. “Gotta…find’m.” Defying all logic, he tries to sit up again, using your shoulders for leverage. Even in this state, he’s stubborn as hell.

“Where is he?” you ask, not sure if Saeyoung will even be able to tell you. You help him wriggle into a sitting position, thinking it’s perhaps safer than lying down after all.

“Walk,” he murmurs. He’s trying to look at you again, his eyes wandering over your face. “Babe! Your face’s…blurry.”

You sigh. It’s not out of the ordinary Saeyoung to push Saeran too far, or for Saeran to snap at him and go for a walk to clear his head. You wonder if the confluence of circumstances—the trial, both twins’ tensions running extra high, the memories Saeyoung associates with his family and raised voices and a dark, empty house—led to this turn of events.

One of the cameras near the door flickers to life—someone’s coming into the garage. You sit up stick straight. Saeran was just on a walk—he couldn’t have gone far. Which means…

“Baby, I’m so sorry, but I need you to move again.”

He groans and mutters something you don’t understand, but you have no time to waste. Glad you’ve already got him sitting, you slide your hands under both his arms and pull. He sags like a rag doll, but he doesn’t weigh a lot, and you’re strong—you tug him to a standing position and he sways dangerously in place, his face pale again.

“Can’t,” he moans, and you don’t have time to pity him. You simply can’t risk the consequences—for both brothers—of Saeran finding him like this.

“C’mon, sweetheart, please try to walk. For me.” You kiss him firmly on the cheek and he perks up a little, reaching for you. You take both his hands again and walk backwards, guiding him to the bedroom.

“No more…” he moans, but you get him down the hall and into the room, giving the corners a wider berth this time.

Panting, you deposit him on the bed.

“…spinning,” he mutters, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“I swear I will be right back,” you gasp, and you run from the room before he can respond. You sprint to the kitchen, sweep the whiskey bottle into the cabinet under the sink. You dump the glass and throw it under there too for good measure. You right the stool, leaving the chips bags—that’s normal enough. 

But the smell…

You hastily grab your bag, which you’d dropped on the floor earlier when you’d found him here—pull out the little bottle of perfume you carry, spritz it liberally over the kitchen island. You inhale. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

You throw open the big window over the sink and, bag under your arm, slink back to your bedroom. As the bedroom door is shutting behind you, you hear the security system beeping, the front door sliding open. Just in time.

You spin around. Now where is…?

A soft moan from the en suite bathroom answers your question. You peer through the dark—sure enough, he’s sprawled on the ground, head bent over the toilet. The fact that he’s managed to drag himself there is impressive. You sigh—this was inevitable and is probably for the best.

You sit with him there for a long time: pressing a cool, wet washcloth to his head, plying him with tiny sips of water when you can. He apologizes to you again and again in a raw, miserable voice; you stroke his hair and rub his back and promise him that he’s going to be okay.

Eventually he slumps into your lap and, almost incoherently, whispers the word “bed.” So you hoist him up again, arms around his torso; he tries valiantly to help you, stumbling through the doorway, over the carpeted floor. You guide him onto the bed and he practically melts into it, his breathing immediately slowing, deepening.

You get him as comfortable as you can—wresting his jeans off and casting them aside, tucking the blankets all the way around him. He murmurs groggily as you press a soft kiss to his forehead and then he’s out, chest moving slowly up and down, face peaceful.

You’d never know, you think.

You retrieve his glasses from the bathroom floor, fold them neatly on the bedside table. And then, steeling yourself, you slip through the bedroom door as quietly as you can, tiptoe down the hall. As you’d suspected, Saeran is still in the living room.

“Hey,” he says, lifting his eyes from the book he’s reading. He’s draped over the couch, white hair tousled. He’s turned on a lamp—the dim light illuminates the red roots that are just starting to grow in.

“Hi,” you say. For something to do, you fetch the cup of water you’d left on the floor earlier. Saeran doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“We had a fight,” he offers, unprompted. He drums his fingers on his book—the same nervous habit his brother has. “Did he tell you?”

“Um…sort of.” You put the cup on a side table. Nervously straighten one of the fluffy throw blankets.

“I was mean,” Saeran says bluntly. “I shouldn’t have been.”

You perch on the arm of the couch. Once, he would have flinched away from you; now, he watches you impassively, green eyes unreadable.

“Was it about the trial?” you ask, with some hesitation.

Saeran shrugs. “I guess. He keeps all the TVs in the house on all day. I can’t stand hearing our father’s voice anymore.”

“Right.” You know this—know that the ongoing trial is wearing on them both, know that they’re coping in their own ways.

“Is he…” Saeran looks down and back up at you; his eyes are bright. “Is he mad?”

You take a shaky breath. “No,” you say honestly. “But he feels bad that you fought.”

“Should I talk to him?”

He is still looking at you. You’re surprised—he’s never asked you for advice before.

“Maybe in the morning,” you say, perhaps a little too firmly—but Saeran is unfazed.

“I get it,” he says. “I’m gonna go back to reading now.”

You smile, grateful as always for Saeran’s manner. There’s no risk of overstaying your welcome, because he’ll always tell you when he’s done.

“Good night,” you say. He looks up at you again, gives you a tiny smile.

“Night.”

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

You wake abruptly the next morning. Through the haze of half-dream, half-wakefulness, you hear an intrusive rustling sound—then clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Your eyes shoot open.

“Saeyoung…?” you murmur, the events of the previous night momentarily evading you. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, see a blur of red hair in your peripheral vision.

He’s…cleaning?

“Oh god.” His golden eyes go huge with panic as he sees that you’re awake. He drops the mop (why was it clunking?) and throws himself onto the bed, kneeling beside you. “Hi. Good morning. Um. I am. So, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. I mean, I—uh. Gah. I practiced this. Hang on—”

“Shhh.” You put a finger to his lips, pushing yourself up in bed. He sits back on his heels like a guilty puppy, eyes huge, waiting for a scolding. “So you remember last night, huh?”

His cheeks match his hair. He lowers his gaze.

“I am so, so, so, so…”

“Hush.” You take his face in both hands again, just as you’d done the night before. Tilt it up, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You don’t need to apologize to me. But I would like to know how it happened.”

He hangs his head, one red curl falling into his eyes. You brush it away.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “You know I’ve never done that before. Right?”

“Yes, I know.” You slip out of the blankets and sit cross-legged, facing him. “Do you remember why you did it? Why you went looking for the whiskey that I didn’t even think you knew was in the storage closet?”

“I’d known where it was for a while,” he says softly, shamefully. “I found it one day when I was looking for an old hard drive and I guess I thought, wow, glad I know that’s there in case I ever lose my mind.” 

This surprises you. You didn’t know he’d ever give it any thought at all.

“I wasn’t seriously thinking I was gonna drink it!” he says hurriedly, his cheeks growing—if it were possible—redder. “It was like a…weird, bad joke. Like, haha, what a great way to escape my mind if I ever hate myself that much. I…dunno.”

You make yourself take a deep breath. You hate it when he says things like this. “Okay, fine. So why did you…?”

“I fought with Saeran,” he says, still looking down. He twiddles his hands in his lap, fiddles with the blanket. “It was stupid. We were just tense about the trial. And then he left, and it got dark, and I was alone, and I just couldn’t…stop thinking about her.”

“Your mother.”

“Yeah.”

He taps a pattern on his thigh, too fast, too hard. You take his hand, wrapping up his fingers in yours. He shoots you a grateful glance.

“It’s hard to explain,” he mutters. “It was like I was possessed. It was this feeling, like if I could…get inside her head somehow, I’d understand.”

“Understand what?” You realize you’re squeezing his hand too hard and you make a conscious effort to loosen your grip.

“Why she didn’t love us,” he says simply. You look up; there are tears in his eyes again. Automatically you reach for him, catching a tear on your fingertip. You kiss it away.

“Did you?” you ask quietly. Slowly, he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I ever will.”

“Oh, Saeyoung…” You hold open your arms for him and he bows his head, falling into you. You cradle his head against your chest, kiss the tears from his eyelashes.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“You are a wonderful man, and you deserve the world,” you say firmly. You wrap your arms all the way around his waist and squeeze him tight and he exhales, like he’s letting out breath he’s been holding for a long time.

“I’ll never do it again,” he says, his voice muffled by your shirt. “I promise. I mean it.”

You thoughtfully run your fingers through his curls, de-tangling them, pulling them apart one by one. “Can I ask you something I’ve asked you before?” you say tentatively. He nods; you can feel it. “Would it be okay if I just…got some names? My therapist offered to make a list for you before, you know, and you don’t need to commit to anything, but I just—”

“Yes.” He pulls back enough to peer up at you. There are tear tracks on his cheeks again but his expression is sure. “I’d like that.”

His eagerness takes you by surprise. You smile and kiss the tip of his nose.

“Thank you.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “I’m meant to be the one thanking you. You shouldn’t have had to take care of me last night. You should’ve just left me there.”

“Never.” You take a deep breath and he breathes with you, exhaling against your lips, tickling you. “Now would you please explain to me what the hell you were doing that woke me up this morning?”

He giggles, a little guiltily—still, you’re relieved to hear him laugh. “I felt like crap, both physically and emotionally. I thought I could start apologizing by…”

“Slamming the mop against the wall?”

“I don’t…actually know how to use a mop.”

That makes you laugh, and it feels good, like a release. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you.

“You’re gonna be okay?” you whisper. He nods, gazing at you reverently.

“Because of you,” he says. He strokes your hair with his long, thin fingers—cautiously, gently, like he needs reassurance that you’re still there. “I’m gonna be okay.”

[omgjasminesimone]

Cheer

Logan x MC

Follow up to this AU

Word Count: ~3,000

Logan rips the bandage with his teeth, tenderly looping it around Ellie’s knee multiple times. He makes sure it’s tight enough to provide ample support, but not so tight it’s cutting off her circulation. “There, how does that feel?” He asks, placing a gentle kiss to Ellie’s knee before looking up at her from where he’s kneeling on the gym floor.

Ellie tests it out, bending her knee a little. “That feels good, thank  you Logan.” She’s about to turn to head back to practice when Logan grips her hand.

“Hey, take it easy out there, alright? You don’t have to go full out every practice.” Logan suggests.

Ellie smiles, looping her arms around his neck. “Aww, are you worried about me?”

Logan’s hands go to her waist, hugging her to him. “Obviously. It’s pretty nerve wracking to watch my girlfriend get thrown around like a rag doll.”

Ellie smirks, absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well, us real athletes have to do some pretty dangerous stuff. Not all sports are as easy as basketball.” She teases.

Logan frowns and pulls away from her a little, but he’s not doing a very good job of looking believably upset. “Well damn, way to make me feel bad about myself. And so soon after Canyon Crest not making it to the State Championships too. You can be so cruel. Good thing you’re so pretty.” He teases right back.

Ellie would have continued with their flirty banter, but the star crossed couple is interrupted. “Logan! If you keep distracting one of my most important flyers, I’m banning you from coming to practice. We’re trying to win a national title here!” Ellie’s cheer coach yells.

“Yes ma’am! Sorry about that, won’t happen again!” Logan yells back apologetically, getting to his feet. “You got me in trouble.” He quietly, and playfully, complains to Ellie.

She smiles at him. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Logan grins, pulling her to him for a quick kiss. “I’m holding you to that troublemaker.”

“Ellie!” Her coach yells again.

“Coming!” She quickly replies, scurrying back over to the squad to keep working on the pyramid.

...

A week later in Orlando, Ellie is still distracted at a Logan free practice session. “Come on, stick it!” The coach yells as Ellie is tossed up onto the bases’ hands. Ellie wobbles, tightening her core to try to save it, but ultimately crumbles down to the ground.

“Oh my god, I told you not to replace Gia with Ellie.” Ingrid complains. “She’s about to cost us Nationals!”

Ellie never expected to make mat for the biggest cheerleading event of the year, and she certainly wasn’t expecting to be made a flyer, one of the most challenging and revered roles. But when Gia broke her leg after over flipping on a basket toss, it just made sense to give the spot to Ellie. Ellie is tiny and easy to lift, she works hard, and her technical skills are unbelievable for someone who’s been cheering less than a year.

But now, with only 2 days before the competition, the pressure is starting to get to her. Ellie doesn’t want to let anyone down. The squad has been working for months, for this two and a half minute performance that has to be perfect.

“Where is your head at Ellie?! You never drop this much. I took a big chance on you, because I believed in you. And right now, I’m starting to question my judgement.” Their coach critiques. Ellie fights back tears, nodding to show she’s listening. The coach turns her attention to the group. “Take 5. I want better attitudes from everyone when you come back in here.”

Ellie practically runs out of the gym, heading straight for her phone in the locker room. She sniffles as she dials Logan’s number from memory, leaning against the locker.

“Hey troublemaker, how’s Orlando?” He asks, sounding happy to hear from her.

“Logan.” Ellie replies, voice already breaking.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Logan immediately switches to comfort mode.

Ellie starts to cry as she explains that she’s not hitting any of her stunts. That she’s barely throwing her full. That she doesn’t think she can do it.

“Ellie.” Logan interjects when she finally lets him get a word in. “Everyone knows that you can do it besides you. You have to believe in yourself. That’s all it is babe.” He sighs. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

More tears well in her eyes as she tries to take in his sweet words. “I miss you.” She mumbles, rubbing at her eyes to try to keep her tears at bay.

“I miss you too. And I love you. You can definitely do this Ellie, so go back to practice and kill it.”

“I love you too, and I’ll try.” Ellie promises.

Practice goes a lot better after her Logan pep talk. Ellie is always amazed at how effectively he can instill confidence in her, even from over 2,000 miles away.

She’s feeling a lot better by the time she heads back to the room she’s sharing with Riya. And Ellie’s mood brightens considerably when she opens the door, and finds Logan sitting on the bed.

“Surprise trouble- humph.” He’s cut off when she tackles him onto the bed, kissing him soundly.

It’s several long moments before she can tear herself away. “What are you doing here?!” She questions.

Logan smiles, his hands coming up to rest just under her cheerleading skirt, squeezing her thighs. “Like I’d miss your big competition.”

“But what about school?” The cheerleaders all have permission to miss a couple of days for the competition. She doubts Logan has any such agreement over at Canyon Crest.

“Troublemaker, we’ve got like 3 more weeks until we graduate. I doubt they’re going to rescind my Langston offer for missing a couple of classes where we’re most likely just watching movies.”

“You never know though. You worked so hard to get your grades up to qualify for that Langston basketball scholarship. I’d hate to see all that go to waste.” Ellie insists.

Before Ellie, Logan didn’t really care about school. He probably would have dropped out if not for basketball. But now, he just wants to be wherever she is. So when he found out Langston was her plan, it became his plan too.

He needed straight As in all his Fall semester classes to raise his GPA enough to meet the Langston athlete minimum. It was hard work, but Logan was motivated. He might not have been serious about school, but he’s sure as hell serious about Ellie Wheeler. It also helped that his beautiful girlfriend is a great tutor.

He’s really looking forward to being at Langston together starting in the Fall. It will be nice to have Ellie cheering for his team, for once.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll get the assignments from a friend, okay?” He offers.

“Okay.” Ellie readily agrees, resting her head on his chest. She yawns, settling in for a nap. “Wait, are you trying to stay in here? What about Riya?”

Logan gently massages her back, lulling her to sleep. “She’s planning to stay in the room me and Darius are technically splitting.” He reveals.

“Perfect.” Ellie mumbles, almost asleep now. She doubts the Mar Vista Prep athletics program would sanction opposite gender room sharing, so they’ll have to be sneaky. Luckily, the couple has gotten pretty good at sneaking around due to Ellie’s dad forbidding her from dating Logan in the first place. Detective Wheeler has a strict ‘no athletes’ rule Ellie has chosen to ignore.

...

“....are you running through the routine in your head again?” Logan asks, playfully splashing her with salty Atlantic Ocean water.

“Am I that obvious?” Ellie returns, attempting to splash him back, but he weaves. Damn those quick basketball reflexes.

“Yep. I can practically hear you running the counts.” Logan quips, pulling her to him for a kiss.

With only one day left before the competition, their coach has instructed the cheerleaders to take the day off. It’s not worth risking injury when the routine is probably as good as it’s going to get at this point.

They do have a final early morning practice before the competition tomorrow though. And Ellie is determined to have a better showing than at their last practice.

“I’m just a little nervous, so I feel like I can’t relax. Sorry, this probably isn’t the Orlando vacation you wanted.” Ellie apologizes.

“I came to see you. I wanted to cheer on my favorite cheerleader. And to keep you from psyching yourself out because I know how you get.” He concludes with a small smile.

Ellie pouts up at him as he absentmindedly plays with the ties of her bikini bottom. “I’m trying not to get in my head.” Ellie knows how she gets too.

“Would it make you feel better to get some more practice in? I can be your base.” Logan proposes.

Ellie quirks a brow. “You?”

“What? I’ve seen how cheerleading works. I know how to do it.” Logan insists. He turns her around, placing his hands on her hips. He pulls her back a few steps into slightly deeper water, she assumes to break her fall when he no doubt drops her. “Let’s do that one where you go from the ground into Ingrid’s and Riya’s hands.”

“A hand toss cupie.” Ellie corrects.

“Yeah, that. Ready?” Logan replies.

“Ready as I’m gonna be.”

Ellie is expecting a countdown, but Logan throws her high in the air without one. She instinctively tightens up and Logan manages to grip her heel above his head, but that provides basically zero support so she crashes back into the water.

Ellie surfaces, sputtering a little. “Sorry troublemaker. But that wasn’t bad for a first try, huh?”

“Yeah, not bad. I’m actually kind of impressed. You put way too much power in that throw though. It’s supposed to be more of a gentle toss.”

“Noted. I’ll try to tone down my athletic prowess. But if you think about it, this is good practice for college cheer. Those male Langston cheerleaders will probably toss little old you like.....10 feet. Hey, you think I have what it takes to make the Langston cheer squad if the whole basketball thing doesn’t work out?” Logan teases, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he walks them deeper into the ocean.

“Honestly? I think I have a better chance of making the basketball team.” Ellie retorts with a smirk.

Logan laughs, gently running his thumb in circles on her thigh. “Teach a girl to shoot free throws and suddenly she thinks she runs the world. You’re gonna have to learn to dribble before you make the team babe. Also, your defense could use some work, tiny.”

“Hmm...maybe it would be easier to get you on the cheer squad then.” Ellie continues to play along.

“That’s the spirit! Want to try the cupie again?”

“No, I think I want to make out with my super athletic boyfriend instead.” Ellie buries her hands into the long wet strands of his dark hair.

Logan grins, leaning in close. “That can definitely be arranged.” He murmurs just before capturing her lips.

...

Ellie shakes Logan awake, causing him to groan and try to roll away from her. “Logan, you’ve gotta get up. Riya is coming to do my hair and makeup.” Ellie informs her sleepy boyfriend.

“You want me to leave?” He murmurs, stretching his arms out and yawning.

“No, but you have to put clothes on.” Ellie replies. She’s already dressed in her cheerleading uniform, ready for that early morning practice.

“I can do that.” Logan agrees, reaching down to the floor for his duffel bag. He pulls out some clean clothes, throwing them on.

Ellie quirks a brow when he pulls a Mar Vista Prep t-shirt over his broad shoulders. “Wouldn’t you never be able to live it down if you were photographed in that?”

“I definitely wouldn’t be able to show my face at graduation, but I love you more than I hate Mar Vista.” Logan quips, pulling her back into bed to get his kisses in before he has to worry about ruining her cheer makeup.

Riya arrives much too soon for Logan’s liking, using her key card to enter the room. “Alright, break it up you two. We can’t afford for Ellie to be sore before our big performance.” She insinuates with a grin.

...

Ellie stretches her quads as Mar Vista waits in the wings as Riverview High performs their routine. Ellie is unbelievably nervous. She can’t help but wish she started cheer earlier. Maybe she’d be feeling more confident if this wasn’t her first ever High School Nationals. 

She shakes out her arms, and tries to simultaneously shake out her nerves. Things went fairly well during practice, but now, staring out at the large crowd and watching other teams complete their routines flawlessly has Ellie a little bit in her head. 

She searches the crowd for Logan. Before she left for practice, he promised her he would be in the front row cheering her on. It takes her a few moments to spot him, standing with Darius in the front row on the left side. He laughs at something Darius says, and Ellie feels herself automatically calm down a little at the familiar sight of his bright smile. 

“Okay, Mar Vista, bring it in!” Ingrid yells, bringing Ellie’s attention back to the task at hand. All the cheerleaders put their hands into the circle. “Let’s bring it home, Mar Vista on three. One, two, three!”

“Mar Vista!” The squad choruses, lifting their arms. 

Ellie lets out a deep, calming breath. She’s got this. 

“And now coming out of Los Angeles, California, Mar Vista Prep!” The announcer introduces. The team walks out to polite applause from the audience, and fervent applause from the Mar Vista alternates, family members in attendance, and Logan and Darius. 

Ellie gets into her starting position, taking another deep breath before pasting on her cheer smile. She automatically looks to Logan, who smiles and winks at her. ‘You’ve got this.’ He mouths at her. Ellie’s smile becomes a little more authentic. 

Their routine starts with the cheer chants, the easiest required element for the competition. They shout loudly, and in sync, using their poms and signs as they cheer on the Mar Vista Bulldogs as if they’re at a game. 

The fast paced dynamic cheer music comes on as they transition to the dance and tumbling section. Ellie takes off across the stage, performing a round off into two back hand springs for momentum before throwing her full. She can feel her rotation is perfect in the air, and she lets out a quick sigh of relief when she lands on her feet and snaps upright, going right into the synchronized jump section. 

Ellie can see out of the corner of her eye that everyone’s toe touches and pikes look great. So far, so good. But now, it’s the part everyone is most worried about. The stunts and their big finale pyramid. 

Ellie cheer jogs over to her stunt group, placing her hands on Ingrid’s and Riya’s shoulders as they bend to brace her feet when she jumps. She crouches as they rotate so she’s facing the audience, and then back flips when they toss her in the air. 

She’s caught, and placed back to the floor. They immediately go into their next stunt, Ellie launching back into the air for a scorpion. Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie sees another stunt group’s bases having to take a couple of small steps to keep their stunt in the air, but she’s relieved to see them recover. 

Ellie spins, falling back into Riya’s and Ingrid’s arms. The squad tightens their formation for the final pyramid, and Ellie is placed back on the ground. Ingrid and Riya launch her back into the air for her next trick, and when she’s caught and lifted back up, Ingrid’s grip is absolutely terrible, but Ellie refuses to go down, over correcting in time for another cheerleader to fly overhead and for Ellie to catch her left foot like she’s supposed to. 

She releases her teammate’s foot, crouching as Riya and Ingrid carry her further back. “One, two, and up!” Riya counts out, and the bases launch Ellie over the middle of the pyramid. Ellie makes sure to smile brightly into the audience before she flips and is caught by another stunt group. 

Ellie winces when the catch is a little off, probably bruising her rib. But there’s no time to worry about that now. There’s just one more stunt standing between her and a perfect Nationals routine. 

She’s placed back down so she can jog back to Riya and Ingrid. “Whoo, let’s go Mar Vista!” Ingrid encourages. Everyone knows that if they can pull off this last move, the championship is all their’s due to their increased skill difficulty level.

 Ellie launches up into a bow and arrow, drops back into her bases’ hands as they scurry to the pyramid, gets into pyramid position, lifting her foot from Riya’s strong grip to perch on another airborne teammates thigh, and finally another flyer lands on her outstretched leg, Ellie gripping her firmly so she doesn’t fall. 

“Bulldogs!” They shout when the pyramid is complete. Ellie is finally able to breathe. Ellie looks out at Logan, who’s whooping and whistling loudly. And in that moment, everything is perfect. 

...

Mar Vista knew they won the moment that pyramid hit, but it’s still nice to hear it officially and be awarded a huge golden trophy, as well as individual gold medals. 

Ellie hops off the stage into Logan’s waiting arms, giggling when he spins her around. “You’re incredible.” Logan praises, capturing her lips and completely ruining the lipstick Riya had applied so painstakingly. 

“How does it feel to be dating a National Champion?” Ellie quips when they finally break apart for air. 

“Hmm...kind of indescribable troublemaker. Maybe next year you’ll get to find out.” He kisses her again, burying a hand into her hair so when he pulls away her bow is all askew. “So, what do you want to do next, champion?” He asks. 

Ellie smiles. “I’m going to Disney World!” 

...

A/N: Things I regret, attempting to write out that cheer routine, and then being too stubborn to cut it after all the googling I had to do. A mess. haha. 

taglist:  @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @drakexnadira @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @maxwellsquidsuit @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @choicesgremlin @lovehugsandcandy @desireepow-1986 @blades-of-light-and-shadow @justdani14 @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris​ @mskaneko​ @anxious-arliah @zaffrenotes​ @iam-ankita​ @ohsnapitzlovehacker​ @n-whas

[kathrynalicemc]

Kiri stood outside, watching the young masters at play. They laughed and looked like they were having such fun with the other children. She wanted to play, but Mistress forbid it. She was to serve and nothing more.

"Kiri, why aren't you playing? A child should have a smile on their face, not a scowl. That's for the grown ups to do." Kiri turned, her face lighting up instantly at the deep baritone of Lord Samuel Willson III. His kindly yet hard face grinning while his spectacles teetered on the bridge of his nose. He frowned and took out his wand casting a quick Repifarge on Kiri's dress. "Go on, lass. Have fun."

Kiri beamed as she went to play with the other children...

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

Kiri sat on the chair, crying as Lord Samuel tended to her cuts and scrapes. Lenwin stood nearby, worried for his daughter. "Do you know who did this sir?"

"Unfortunately, old friend... It was my own flesh and blood. I have reprimanded them and my daughter scolded for raising my grandchildren to be so horrid." Samuel said before turning his head to cough into a rag.

"S-s-sorry, L-Lord wilson... I-i-I just wanted to play" Kiri sobbed through hiccupped tears. Sameul and Lenwin both hugged Kiri. "Lass, never apologize for who ya are. If I judged someone by who their parents were instead of who they were, I'd have never met yer father."

Lenwin nodded. "Don't worry sweetheart. No matter what, Papa'll be here for you."

"B-but it's true isn't it? I'm a half elf freak? That my-my own mommy didn't want me..." Kiri cried, tears slowly drying up as Samuel patched the last of her leg.

Lenwin held his daughter as Samuel put the medicines away. "Sweet heart, no no no. Your mother did want you. She was so happy when you were finally born that she couldn't wait to hold you. She cried all day and night about how beautiful her baby girl was."

Samuel smiled, leaving the father and his daughter alone. He knew, finally, his choice.

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

Kiri sat on her bed, playing with the half torn doll that was thrown in the garbage. Why someone would throw away such a pretty dolly, she didn't know. But now, Mrs. Felt was her best friend. Her ears perked up when a knock was heard from her door. "Come in!"

Lord Samuel and Fenwin entered the room, the lord dressed in his usual black attire with his hair noticeably whiter. He smiled and sat with Kiri on her bed. Lenwin smiled and sat in a chair nearby. "Mr. Willson has something he's very excited to tell you, Sweet heart."

Lord Samuel smiled. He coughed into a rag, clearing his throat. "Apologies. Kiri, you are aware of magic, yes?"

Kiri nodded. "Mrs. Willson says not to do magic unless i'm told."

Samuel smiled and placed a hand on Kiri's shoulder. "Well, what if I told you that you could learn how to use magic?"

Kiri's face lit up, her smile and cheer so happy you thought she was about to burst. "I get to learn magic, i get to learn magic!" she sang in her young sing song voice.

Lenwin smiled, patting his hands down. "Now now, Kiri, settle down."

Kiri sat down, though it was clearly evident how much she was restraining her pent up excitement.

Lord Samuel smiled. "I have another surprise for you. A special gift from me."

"My own wand."

Lenwin gasped while Kiri looked at Mr. Samuel mystified.

"Sir, what will your family think?" Lenwin asked.

"They will think nothing of it. I have told them that I shall burn my 'wand' when I..."

Lenwin knew what the master was going to say next. He understood.

Kiri held the Golden Oak wand in her hands. She brushed her fingers down the carven spirals down to the sliver of silver in the pommel. "It's so pretty..."

Samuel smiled. "It has been passed down from generation to generation, from my great grandfather to my Grand father, and my father before me. It is a family treasure, meant only for the purest of heart. Your mother... She would be proud to see you with this wand."

Kiri held the wand as small pink and blue sparks sparked around her, causing her to laugh with joy.

"The wand has always chosen it's bearers wisely, Kiri. No matter who wields it, through gift or force, it will only obey you and you alone." Lord Samuel said with a gentle smile before turning his head and coughing once more. His handkerchief spotted with blood, quickly stowed into his pocket.

Once the two were well away from the room, Samuel looked to the house-elf.

"I will see to the preparations for Kiri's education at Hogwarts, Lenwin. As well as a transfer for you. Take care of my grand daughter. Teach her the truths of being a wizard and a good person. Truths that I have failed in teaching."

Lenwin smiled. "You shouldn't say that sir. Mirai wouldn't take kindly to her Da spouting lies."

Samuel smiled as the two stood before the marble statue of a beautiful young woman, smiling down upon them.

"She always did find the best in us."

*I DID NOT WRITE THIS!*

(BIG thank you to @ravenclaw-craftsgirl for writing this short story about my Mc Kiri and for giving me some family backstory for her! More info coming soon in her profile uwu)

[katiekoff]

Strangers Or More (Muriel x fem!MC)

The thing is finally here, thanks to my betas.

@collective-laugh here it is :)

What do we have here? Here we have Muriel, we have my apprentice named Lynn, we have pre-canon, we have a hint of romantic attachment, and we have mine explanation about Muriel’s fears of touchings.

Link to the AO3 here.

Enjoy!

Words count: 7 663 || SFW

Summary: They’ve met already - long ago, before the plague came. He knew her - long ago, before she died and got burnt. She looks at him - right now, and right now they are strangers to each other. But… Are they strangers or more?

“Don’t touch me!”

She froze.

“Okay, I won’t,” - her pale hands soared up, palms out. He didn’t see it, but he knew – a thin scar snaked there, above the right elbow. And another one, more wide, more uneven, on the right shoulder, descending to the shoulder blade.

He shook his head and tried to reach the deer, but pain, piercing his side, made him moan.

“Let me help!”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

Looking into her surprised, bewildered and stubborn eyes the color of young spring grass, he understood: she wouldn’t leave. Lucio was stubborn, but this girl could easily compete with him.

Muriel hated Coliseum. He hated Lucio. He hated his clothes, in black and red, which “should bolster his ferocity,” according to Lucio. Muriel hated to kill, and he hated his rivals too – just because he had to kill them.

But, most of all he hated himself.

For his inability to resist Lucio.

For putting Asra in danger.

For the rage that blinded him during the fight.

For the red mist that blanketed his eyes, when he became, according to the same Lucio, “a real gladiator.”

Because of it, he didn’t always remember how he left the Coliseum.

And later one more item was added to this list: for almost killing a young doctor, whom Lucio had sent to deal with his wounds.

Lucio cared for him, oh yes, as one did for a sword or axe. He sent his doctor to him to heal and bandage his wounds, if Muriel had been getting hell - not that this happened often, it was rare that an opponent managed to wound him. Oh yes, Lucio also cared about Muriel’s weapons – he never tired of reminding that his axe, his butcher’s axe, should be sharpened and perfectly balanced. And one day, when they forgot or maybe didn’t have time to sharpen it – all weaponry workers disappeared. Muriel preferred not to think about what had happened to them, to people who dared to make Lucio angry.

He became used to Lucio’s talkative fat doctor: to his bouncing gait, to his sweaty wet hands, to his bleating voice – he was so scared and always babbling nonsense while he put the uneven stitches in Muriel’s wounds with shaking hands. One day Lucio probably decided that palace doctor shouldn’t fiddle with the gladiator – or, maybe, it was the doctor who persuaded Lucio to find someone else for this risky work.

And it was risky. And almost turned out to be the last job for the new doctor – for the young girl with green eyes the color of the young spring grass.

For sure, Lucio didn’t tell her about rage that seized him, - oh, was it worth mentioning such a trifle? For sure, Lucio didn’t tell her that she should approach him slowly and cautiously. What did the Count say to her, actually, how did he make her to go to the dusty arena, that smelled of sweat and blood, with the dead bodies, lying there, which had not even been removed yet?

Muriel didn’t know that. He also didn’t know that the small figure, approaching him so fast, is a doctor, not the late rival. Moaning through his teeth, he got up heavily – this time, after all, he was injured badly – and somehow indifferently thought that Lucio was gone mad, sending a woman against him.

Muriel didn’t see her face, didn’t notice how she was dressed – the red mist still blanketed his eyes and the hate still boiled in his blood – he only felt magic that began concentrating around her. His body reacted itself: forgetting the wounds, he rushed to her with a swift jerk and grabbed her by the throat – it seems, he could break her neck with just one finger – and then he threw her back like a rag doll, just like Asra occasionally did several years ago (for ages ago, it seems). And only then, just before the throw, he met her gaze – he met her surprised and bewildered eyes. 

She fell on a pile of debris, raising dust and sand in the air, and when Muriel – already surprised himself – found her with his gaze, she lay on her stomach, awkwardly bending her arm under her, and blood flowed down her back. And although rage left him at the sight of a thin stream of blood flowing down her hand into the sand, he didn’t remember how he got to his hut and what the angry Lucio shouted after him.

***

“I know who you are.”

Again, this surprise in her eyes, these bewilderedly frowning brows. He almost didn’t listen to her explaining about her amnesia, about three years that she only remembered. Why?

“I know that, too.”

He felt her curious look on himself while she washed the blood from his body, and he tried to sit firmly, though all he wanted was to push her away, to order her not to touch him, to drive her out the door so that she could forget about his existence. Her touch made him tremble and clench his fists, forcing himself to sit calmly.

“I’ll heal you now, ok?”

After that time, Lucio didn’t call him for quite some time – Muriel managed to recover from his wounds and found out (not without the help of Asra, of course) that the girl had survived, and everything was fine with her. He even began to hope that after this Lucio would forget about him, but that was too naive.

Staying on the arena and looking into wolf’s sad yellow eyes, Muriel somehow remembered another’s eyes – surprised and bewildered, that he dreamed sometimes after the last fight. He expected the animal to attack, and understood that it would be not so easy to deal with it: wolf was huge, nearly the human height. Lucio eagerly shouted something about cowardice from his seat, shouted that Muriel should kill the beast, and the crowd was noisy, and the wolf … just sat in its open cage and looked at him. And it was only when he came closer that Muriel saw that it was starving, its fur was dirty and there was wound on its paw – and then he couldn’t stand it.

He didn’t hear, what Lucio shouted to him, he didn’t hear, what the crowd chanted while he cut a path through the Coliseum – for himself, for them. The blood pounded in his ears, and all was blurry before his eyes – it was a sure sign of approaching rage, and this time the rage was directed at him, at Lucio. Muriel knew that this wouldn’t lead to anything good – if he killed Lucio, the city, perhaps, would breathe freely, but then what? He might be executed on the spot, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But what if they came for Asra? And he continued to chop the thick wood gates – with all his rage, all his hatred, all his despair; continued to chop it with his perfectly balanced and sharpened butcher axe.

When he found himself at the doors of his hut, the wolf was still with him. There was no one behind them, and Muriel breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately felt the panic. What would happen now? Lucio wouldn’t leave him alone, he’d find him, he’d make him fight again, more violently this time. And what… what if he will hurt Asra? The wolf licked his hand – exhausted, weak, barely holding on its feet – and Muriel decided that he would do anything to not return the arena. Before letting the wolf in the hut, he thought that it would be perfect if all the people just forgot about him for good.

***

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“What sort of things?”

“What’s your favorite animal?”

Her questions cornered him. They were such a childish, simple, and she looked at him with amusement and curiosity, and he just didn’t know what to say.

“Stop asking weird questions.”

That very evening the hut door opened – Muriel expected for Asra, but instead of him he saw… that girl. She looked at him with warily but without fear, and it was he who was petrified, frozen to the floor, where he sat near the fireplace.

“Lucio sent me,” she said. “He’s not angry with you. Well… not anymore. He said you must be prepared for the next fight.”

A small bottle of golden liquid appeared from the spacious bag, and when she came closer and put the bottle on the table, he smelled a faint raspberry scent.

 “Lucio said you needed something to recover your strength. And I barely found your home.”

“I don’t need anything,” he said. The girl raised an eyebrow a little and looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

“I won’t leave until you drink it,” she said. – “The best way is to add it to the tea. I spent all evening parsing the recipe, so do it. Drink it.”

 She put her bag on the table, pulled out a chair and sat with her arms crossed on her chest. Muriel understood that she would not leave until she reached her goal. He sighed and got up awkwardly, rubbing his neck. Sat up on the bed. Sighed. Gathered his thoughts.

“I don’t need this.”

Instead of answering she pushed the bottle towards him.

“How are you going to fight? Lucio said you were weak.”

Was it just him or… there was disgust in her voice? He looked up at her and saw that she was looking at an axe thrown in a corner, - with disgust, almost with hatred.

“I’m not going to fight. I’m not going to kill,” he said.

“Aha. You didn’t kill anyone, did you? Never. Not once.”

Muriel scowls.

“I won’t kill anymore. You can say that to Lucio.”

Saying this was more difficult than he expected, and he felt the panic overtake him again.

“Oh? Where does such a humanity come from?” her mocking voice distracted him. Muriel looked at girl incomprehensibly. She was weird – she was not scared of him, she looked right in his eyes with this unreadable face. And though he felt a wave of hostility and contempt emanating from her, but there was not any bit of fear – and this after what he did to her.

“I have never wanted to kill. You can ask Lucio why I did this.”

The last words burst through his teeth along with the anger that began to boil in him. All of this was too recently, too close; just a few hours before, he’d gritted his teeth in rage – and now it was returning.

“I’m asking you.”

“Go away.”

“No. Drink it.”

Muriel clenched his fists so that he thought he would pierce his palms through. Well, if she didn’t want to leave, then it would be him who left. It was dangerous to stay near her; he was afraid that he would not be able to control himself, that he would fall apart again, that he would hurt her — again. But when he stood up and rushed to the door, she was already there.

Scowling, crossing her hands on her chest, lifting her head belligerently - she stood there, and in her eyes he saw that she wouldn’t budge.

***

“He killed the Heart of The Forest.”

“The Heart of The Forest?”

“Dead deer, there in the forest. It is supposed to be the guardian of the forest. Keep it safe. And now it’s dead, and I couldn’t save it.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s dead. I had to save it. That sounds like my fault.”

When she repeated that it wasn’t his fault, he looked up on her, surprised by the anger in her voice. She looked at him – angrily and indignantly.

“That’s Lucio’s fault,” she said, and he realized that she wasn’t angry with him, but with Lucio.

“Get out of my way.”

The girl kept silent. She stood stock-still in front of the damned door, kept silent and looked at him with her sharp, piercing eyes. Muriel took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh?” she said. “And when you tried to kill me, you also didn’t want to hurt me? Just … kill me, painlessly, right?”

Muriel staggered back from her, feeling shame, fear, guilt … but not the fury that seemed to recede before the rest of her feelings. How could he explain to her so that she understood?

He sat on the bed and covered his face with his hands, gathering his thoughts.

“I-I didn’t want to… I didn’t know who you are, I didn’t see…”

“You did a great job being the blind.”

“No… No, wait. I… I really didn’t want to hurt you. I mean I did want, but…”

He stopped midsentence being absolutely confused. She kept silent too, never leaving her place at the door, and Muriel felt her gaze burning a hole in him.

And he could not stand it. He told her. Everything. About this rage and fury, and how he hated the Coliseum and Lucio, and why he continues fighting, and why he continues killing. And that he won’t return there again.

When he looked up at her, discouraged by the silence, she sat at the table, her chin in her hands, looking at the fire in the fireplace. He saw the scar – fresh, reddish, coming down from under the short sleeve to the elbow, and he hated himself once again.

“You are the killer. You killed before the Coliseum.”

What?

He raised his eyes on her, opened his mouth about to say something, and shut it immediately. She looked at him with such a piercing gaze as if she could see right through him – and Muriel realized that there was something more behind that weird question, something bothered her, made her feel pain.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are from the South, aren’t you?”

“How do you know?” before that Muriel didn’t think that he could be so surprised. But it seems this girl decided to prove to him that he was wrong.

“You killed family there. With your axe. Will you deny it?”

He shook his head.

“It’s ridiculous. I don’t know why do you…”

“Don’t you lie to me!”

He didn’t expect such a burst of anger from her. He didn’t expect her rush to him. Didn’t expect her spit out these words in his face. Didn’t expect her to grab him by the shoulders and shake him – well, try to shake him. And maybe that’s why he grabbed her hands more tighter than he should, without calculating his strength. She hissed, recoiling from him and struggling to break free of his grip, and Muriel – scared, confused – could only watch the bruises pouring on the pale skin of her wrists.

“You killed my parents! You told about it by yourself, you told how you killed them, and I know everything!”

Her voice broke and she fell into a chair, rubbing her wrists and with her head bowed.

“I have never killed anyone,” he said slowly, trying to break through her anger and despair. “Never. Before I met Lucio. I was born in the South, but I left it as a child. Do you hear me?”

She looked up at him with disbelief.

“A child?”

***

“No.”

He looked at her with some kind of awe and the time seemed to freeze. Here, she did the step and stood before him – a year has passed. Here, she stubbornly bent her head a little and moved her fingers, calling the magic – two years have passed. Here, the ruffians burst out laughing and said something that he didn’t hear – three years have passed.

“Wh-What are you doing?”

She didn’t turn to him, warily watching the ruffians.

“I’m protecting us.”

She believed him. Muriel didn’t understand why she believed him, but she did, and now she sat at the table, clutching a cup of hot tea as if her life depended on it. He sat opposite, looking at her hands – a moment ago she removed bruises left from his fingers in one motion. He hurt her. Again.

“My name is Lynn.”

He flinched in surprise when she broke the silence.

“Muriel. This is Inanna.”

“So, you ran away with her?”

Muriel nodded and stroked wolf’s head. His eyes found the bottle with the potion, still standing on the table.

“If I give her that potion, will she recover faster?” he asked, opening the cork gently.

“Do you still think that it’s a medicine?” Lynn grunted, taking the bottle from him carefully.

Muriel tensed when her fingers touched his hand: after all he has done to her, he was afraid that her only touching could make him hurt her again.

“Is this a poison?”

“I don’t know how he managed to convince me,” she said. “Rather, I know, but…”

Lynn sighed and felt to silence. Stroking Inanna’s head, Muriel patiently waited while she found the right words.

“He sounded so earnest,” she said finally. “I’ve never encountered him before, and then… Some man has appeared, Brand or Brond, I don’t remember. He was fat and nervous. He said the Count wanted me at the palace. How did he even find about me?”

“That… man. The small one? With the bouncing gait?”

She nodded.

“He is Lucio’s doctor. He… used to bandage me. Sutured my wounds, sometimes,” Muriel said grudgingly.

“Sorry, but he did a shit job,” she said looking at his scars.

“He was scared,” Muriel shrugged.

Lynn snorted, and Muriel was sure he knew what she was thinking: you nearly killed him too?

“Anyways, Lucio offered me a job. He said, everyone knows that I healed well and so on… He said, the job isn’t hard, I just need to heal his favorite gladiator from time to time, because his doctor is tired.”

“So… You are a healer.”

“The damned good one,” she answered. Without boasting, just stating a fact. “If it was me who healed you, these scars wouldn’t be an option. …Well… After you… After that time when you… Anyways, I woke up in the palace, there was my friend who healed me, and Lucio. He said, it was an accident and if I still didn’t change my mind, his offering remained valid.”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t change my mind. He promised me a good money, and I wanted to deal with my house, and… So, he sent for me a carriage today, after lunch. He portrayed the sympathy so talentedly, he staged a whole performance – said that it was my friend who told him about me, and that I was from the South, and that my parents were killed, and that he was so, so, so sorry. He said that it was you who killed them, and that you were killer before becoming gladiator. And that you were from the South too, and that you told him how you killed the family near the Tarske, there was such a forest, you know? I was pissed off, and he apologized for not checking, and now it’s probably painful for me, and “ooooh, I feel for you soooo much, but he is a beast, he will never chaaaange, I can only keep him in check on the arena, oooooh, you pooor little thiiing”… And… Here we are,” she nodded at the bottle.

“He was right in one thing,” Muriel said. “I’m dangerous.”

It seemed to him that Lynn didn’t hear him – biting her lip, she looked at him with an anxious and thoughtful expression.

“I wonder when Lucio will decide to check how I did the deed?” she asked. “I could not find you. Or change my mind. Or you could… neutralize me.”

“You mean… kill you.”

“To kill me,” she agreed after the pause.

A few more minutes of silence. Muriel practically saw her thoughts jump feverishly. Oddly enough, but he didn’t care – if Lucio killed him… well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“If I were an impatient narcissistic bastard, I would like to check how my favorite toy is doing as early as possible,” her voice made him jump.

“Then go away.”

“You will go with me. We should hide you until we find a way.”

“No. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m already in danger,” she grinned sadly. “If he doesn’t find your dead body, he will realize that you didn’t drink anything.”

Oh great. Wonderful. As if he lacked any concern for Asra. Meanwhile, Lynn walked around the cabin, absentmindedly examining the modest furnishing.

“Let’s do it. He won’t looking for you at my place. Let him decide that you are gone, and meanwhile I… I will ask Asra for help, he is a good magician, and maybe we’ll come up with something.”

“Do you know Asra?” his throat became dry from surprise. Just… how? How is this possible?

“He is a friend of mine I mentioned before,” she said. “Do you know him, too?”

“He is a friend of mine I mentioned before,” Muriel grinned sadly.

*** 

“You can stay.”

He knew he should leave her room. Now. Immediately. He knew it and almost turned to the door. But…

“This room doesn’t look very secure.”

He watched her cast a spell on the window, and then approached it unexpectedly for himself – to touch, to feel this light, weightless magic of hers. And then she touched his hand, and began to talk about how they would deal with this mess – together, and he almost believed her. Almost forgot, who he was.

He failed in talking her out. The stubborn, unbearable girl whirled through his hut, scattering the furs, breaking the cup and throwing carvings into her bag, giving the impression of a hasty gathering. And then she grabbed his hand and tugged him to the night forest, like he was a child, who she decided to defend.

“I can handle myself.”

“I can run away.”

“I’m nothing but a problem.”

“Asra can help me.”

Nothing.

It seemed, Lynn just didn’t hear him: she still tugged him stubbornly, and though he could break free – she was much weaker than him, after all – he followed her obediently. And when they barely stumbled upon the guards armed to the teeth, who were pushing through the thicket with a noise, she hissed barely audibly: “I told you.”

They reached her house through the dark and empty streets, and it turned out to be small, with a magical goods store on the ground floor. She tugged him inward, and he, not having calculated, first hit his head on the lintel, and then, turning awkwardly, dropped some bottles from the showcase.

“I should leave.”

“Don’t you tired of it?”, she asked, lowering the dense curtains and setting a fire in the fireplace with one movement of her hand. “You should go to sleep, it was… pretty busy today.”

“Inanna…”

“She will be fine. You said outsiders won’t find the cave. I’ll buy some meat for her tomorrow and bring it to her.”

Lynn rubbed her face tiredly.

“It will be ok. I still need to return to the palace and tell Lucio that I didn’t find you. Hopefully I will be able to find Asra there. What does he do there?”

“I don’t know.”

Lynn shrugged and pushed him to the narrow staircase leading to the upper floor. And when he entered the room, he saw a bed. One bed. The big double bed, but the one damned bed.

“Well, sorry?”, she spread her hands, seeing the expression on his face. “I didn’t think that I would have to hide escaped gladiators.”

“I… I will go. This was a stupid idea.”

Just how can she move so fast? She was just standing by the bed, and already - instantly! - appeared at the door.

“You need to stay here for a couple of days. A few days. Not for a month, not for a year, not for life. Do you understand?”

He stood opposite of her and looked at her – she was so stubborn… like a donkey. Lifted chin, clenched hands – why did she even decide to protect him? As if he meant something. As if he were a worthy person to protect.

“Why?”

*** 

“Muriel! Muriel, wake up, it’s ok!”

Through his dream he felt her little palm on his shoulder, he heard her flurried whisper, and the next moment he jumped, huddled in the corner, trying to get away from her as far as possible.

“What are you doing? I could have hurt you!”

“But you didn’t. I’m not scared of you, Muriel.”

She understood what was his question was about. She shrugged, took his hand – flinched herself when he twitched – and sat on the bed, pulling him along. So that he couldn’t run away, he guessed.

“Who do you think would have killed my parents?”

Muriel twitched his head bewilderedly – somehow her question was unexpected.

“How would Lucio know who killed my parents?”

“Do you think it’s him?” Muriel asked.

“Tell me he wouldn’t.”

Muriel snorted. Lucio burned the cities, he destroyed everything in his path, and there was nothing he couldn’t do.

“I was here,” she said and Muriel frowned uncomprehending. “Here, in Vesuvia. My parents sent me here, to my aunt, because… I don’t know, they said something about the weather, and that it was not going to be for long, I don’t remember exactly. I was five, I think. And then my aunt got a letter and said that they were gone. I don’t know whether Lucio killed them and why he did this, if he did, but how, goddammit, did he know about it?”

“He fought on the South,” Muriel said. “I would be expecting him to have slaughtered all the villages”.

“I don’t know what happened to the others,” Lynn said. “And I don’t know what to think about it. But yet I think that I don’t want to give you to such a person.“

“You don’t have to. I can hide in the forest.”

“He will be looking for you right there.”

She stood up off the bed and pulled on her hand – he realized just then that he still held her warm little palm in his, rough and calloused. He opened his fingers, and Lynn went to the head of the bed, starting to make the bed.

“If I put on an act correctly, he will believe that I hate you and that I am very, very sorry that you weren’t at home.”

“It’s dangerous. It’s foolish to take a risk because of me”.

She sighed and turned to him, resting her hands on her hips. Even in the dark he noticed her eyes flashed.

“Can’t you finally understand? Even if you run away, I will have to return to the palace. I will have to put on an act before Lucio, otherwise he will find out that I found you – and let you go. But if you run away and he finds you, he won’t leave you alone. I don’t think he would kill you after all that happened, he would just…”

“He will just make me kill everyone.”

“Well, I don’t know how about everyone, but you get the point,” she grunted. “I assume the decision is done. Now, go to bed.”

He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. Weariness piled on him too abruptly, and he even thought that she casted a spell on him – maybe she did, who could know? When he laid down and moved as far as possible, barely trying to breath, he felt his cheeks and ears burning. And it seemed Lynn saw it – she snorted, climbing under the blanket, and then turned her back to him and fell silent on the other end of the bed.

He often had this nightmare – the Coliseum, bloodied Asra, the triumphant Lucio and he, Muriel, standing over his still living friend with an axe in his hands. Sometimes there were changes: sometimes Lucio made him brutalize Asra, torturing him, killing him slowly and cruelly, and Muriel, being in the power of that nightmare, couldn’t help but obey.

“You were a bad servant,” Lucio said to him. “You will repay your escape. You will chop off Asra’s arms and legs by yourself. And then maybe his head, if I like.”

Muriel hated him. He stood so close that he could try to reach out, and here he was, a man who embodied in himself the most disgusting things in the world.

“Muriel.”

He shut his eyes and shook his head. Don’t listen to Lucio. He couldn’t kill Asra, he had already made so many mistakes…

“Muriel.”

“I won’t!”

“Muriel!”

Lucio grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him, and then Muriel could – to grab his hands, to squeeze them tight, to push him away… And then he realized that he woke up. And that the hands he squeezing belonged to a disheveled, sleepy, worried Lynn.

He let her go abruptly – perhaps too abruptly, so that she almost fell out of bed - jumped up, tangled in a blanket, and turned to face the door. “Run, leave, disappear for good”, pounded in his head. Again. Again! He hurt her again, he is dangerous for her – and for everyone else, he really is a beast, he must be alone, forever. He must run, anywhere, far from people, far from her, far from…

Warm fingers squeezed his wrist and he twitched, jumped to the window, and she almost fell off the bed again, leaning on her free hand in time, but she didn’t open her fingers clenched around his hand.

“Let me go.”

He stopped himself, scared of his own voice – it sounded like something between a roar, a moan and a wheeze.

“No.”

She got off the bed and stood next to him, still not letting go of his hand. She raised her head, and he felt shame and self-hatred again – she was so small, just above his elbow, and he had hurt her several times in just one day.

She looked at him – seriously, sternly and understandingly. There was no fear in her eyes, and he could not understand why.

“Stop it,” she said. “It isn’t your fault that you have nightmares. It isn’t your fault that you are angry. I am a healer, Muriel, and a couple of bruises isn’t something that is worth worrying about right now.”

“I did hurt you. I will hurt you again. That’s all I can do.”

“You are on edge. You aren’t used to dealing with people. When you become more calm, everything will be better, you’ll see.”

“No,” he said and finally pulled his hand out of her tenacious fingers. “This is who I am. I can only kill, I can only hurt, that’s all I can do. This is me. Let me go.”

“You will stay here. You will wait for Asra. And then we’ll decide how to help you. Together.”

“I don’t need any help! I need to stay alone!”

Muriel managed to think that it was a good thing that she closed the windows because his voice - almost a scream - would probably have been heard on the street. And then he looked at Lynn and realized that now she was really angry. He saw it in her narrowed eyes, in her clenched teeth, by the way she grabbed her blanket.

“Fine!”, she said through set teeth. “You will stay alone. Here. But if you think that I will let you leave this house, you are mistaken. I have never seen a person who needs help more than you do.”

She left the room, slamming the door before he could answer.

***

“We shouldn’t be here.”

He felt Lucio in this cave. And so did she. A moment before she squared her shoulders and stepped into the darkness, he saw the very flash of obstinacy in her eyes.

“We can’t leave. Just stay behind me, alright?”

“He’ll crush you.”

“No. We can’t let him win. If we have a chance to stop him, we have to take it.”

Her voice sounded so confident, so calm – too confident and calm. She was afraid. And he – he was afraid as well. He could give up, wait for her outside, or even grab her and never let go. But he stepped into the darkness after her and reached for her warm palm.

“I won’t let you go in there alone.”

Of course, Lucio believed her. Of course, she found Asra. Muriel was not even surprised: during the time that they spent together, he managed to understand that the basis of her character is absolute, sheer stubbornness and obstinacy. And if she decided that Lucio must believe her, he would have believed her, even if she had danced in front of him in a fancy dress. And sure she could have searched the whole palace to find Asra.

And now they were sitting in a small room behind the store, drinking tea and kept silent. Asra kept thinking, tousling his fluffy curls, Lynn thoughtfully twisted a cup of fragrant tea, and Muriel just tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, to move as far as possible – it seemed to him that even the slightest touch at her snow-white skin would leave crimson bruises on it.

“I’ve got it!”, Asra lifted his head and waved his hand victoriously. “I’ve got it!”

Lynn looked at him silently, raising her eyebrows, and Muriel held his breath. Really?

“I can cast a spell on Muriel,” Asra said looking at Lynn. “I told you about it, do you remember? Forget-me-spell it is.”

She nodded slowly and squinted.

“Will it help? Will it make him forget?” Muriel couldn’t restrain himself.

“Yes.”

“Not really,” said Lynn simultaneously with Asra. “You know it won’t stay for long. You will need to cast it all over again.”

“There is no other way. Yet,” Asra said and shrugged. “It’s quite a simple spell and I decided to leave the palace anyways. I think Lucio will do without my services, since he can do without Muriel. I will live with Muriel until we find another spell or something.”

“It could work,” she agreed.

“Then I can go,” said Muriel, awkwardly rising from the round table. “As Asra cast this spell on me, I can go home.”

“I’ve always thought that this place is cozy,” Asra grinned and rose after Muriel. “And you are in such a hurry to go home, as if this is not the cutest store in Vesuvia, but the Coliseum.”

 “I need to be alone,” said Muriel, shivering at the mention of the Coliseum.

“You should make an influence on him,” Lynn said tiredly to Asra. Muriel saw that he smiled at her and then bent down to kiss her on the tip of her nose. So are they… not just friends?

“You already realized how stubborn he is, didn’t you?”, he answered. “Almost as stubborn as you are.”

Asra put his hands on Muriel’s back and he felt the magic enveloping him like a cold mountain stream.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Asra nodded. “We can go if you didn’t change your mind.”

Muriel felt that Asra wants to stay and couldn’t blame him – there was really cozy here. Calm. He remembered he heard tinkling this morning – he didn’t have time to get to the kitchen when Lynn came out to meet him: she was tired, under her eyes there were shadows, and there was a teapot with fragrant tea in her hands. She smiled at him, and he remembered just then why she looked so tired – it was he who didn’t let her sleep well. It was he who pulled her into this mess. It was he who hurt her.

“I didn’t,” he muttered, and, already leaving her house, turned his head and said barely audibly: “Thank you.”

Staying on the street he heard her giggling.

“Anytime.”

***

“I don’t care. I’ll be a coward, if it means Lynn doesn’t die.”

“Muriel…”

He shook his head, trying to escape her understanding, sympathetic gaze.

“We’ll keep each other safe.”

Stubborn… like a donkey. He really wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t forget his past. Every time she took his hand, he remembered dark bruises on her wrists. Every time she pushed back her hair or lifted her hands, he saw a thin scar running down to the elbow, and he remembered her lying in the dust and sand with the bloodied back.

“I don’t know how to protect anyone! I just know how to kill!”

He didn’t know why Asra didn’t tell him about Lynn. He brushed aside him, told him that there was nothing to tell of, they were just friends and nothing more – but Muriel noticed that Asra began to visit the city more and more; he became more thoughtful, looking at the fire in the fireplace, and his face became quite soft, dreamy, and his eyes glowed a special way somehow.

Lynn herself came to his hut, too, and he didn’t understand why. When Asra was there, they sat at the table drinking tea and talking – precisely, it was Asra and Lynn who talked, and Muriel just moved to the far corner and withdrew into himself. When Asra was out, and she came, Muriel didn’t want to let her in (what if he hurt her again?), so he left his hut, feeding the chickens, chopping wood, and she sat nearby, occasionally breaking the awkward silence with questions or meaningless phrases.

“You shouldn’t come here,” he said to her one day.

“Why?”

He was silent. What could he say? Because he was afraid of hurting her? Because he still feels that rage sometimes? Because she makes him angry talking to him like he is an ordinary, decent person? Because Asra seems to forget about the rest of the world while speaking to her? Because this makes him feel angry too? Because this makes him feel jealous?

“I don’t need your help anymore. There’s nothing for you to do here.”

She was bewildered, he saw it in her eyes – green like a young spring grass. Bewildered, surprised, offended eyes – just stop, stop, stop looking at me like that!

“I thought we were… friends.”

“No.”

Minute silence.

“I don’t need any friends. And you are…. Not welcome here.”

He barely forced out the last words. And then he just watched as she walked away, and he hated and despised himself even more than usual.

And then the Devil dreamed to him and offered him a bargain.

***

Once he saw her in the city. Lynn examined a booth with the dried herbs, and he – once again – checked whether the Devil had kept his word. Asra told him that there wasn’t any other option, that the Arcana always kept their words, but… Muriel didn’t know if he could believe it. The seal still worked, though, and it seemed all of the city forgot about him, not only Lucio. And Muriel was glad with it, he was glad, really, until he saw her fingering bunches of herbs.

He froze looking at her hands, and she, feeling his gaze, turned to him. Smiled politely. Lifted her eyebrows a little. And asked:

“Can I help you?”

Muriel shook his head and turned into the nearest backstreet. She must forget about him immediately, and that’s… good. That must be good, isn’t it?

*** 

When Asra decided to show her Nopal, Muriel wasn’t surprised. He felt that Asra loved her, and loved much more than he could and wanted to admit. It seemed to him that she was taking away his only friend – that she avenged for his last words, unconsciously, not knowing that. And though Asra spread his arms, laughed frigidly and told that she seemed to see him almost a brother, Muriel was angry anyways.

Asra returned upset, although he tried to hide it. He habitually threw his bag on the bed, habitually zoomed the chair from the far corner, then he sat down, stretched out his legs and leaned back.

“Didn’t she like Nopal?”

Asra shook his head and snorted.

“She said there was too much desert there and that she missed the forest. Also it was too hot there and… Yeah, she didn’t like Nopal.”

Muriel grunted and said nothing. He wouldn’t like it either – he didn’t like the summer in Vesuvia, and it was much hotter in the Nopal.

“Why don’t we come up with something that would help people remember you?”, Asra offered, and Muriel flinched in surprise.

“Why?”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“I-I… No. Not at all.”

“Then why do we constantly find ourselves near her store when we go to the city?” Asra asked and Muriel noticed mischievous flash in his eyes.

“It’s you who longing to the store,” Muriel said and got up from the table. “That’s enough, it’s late, let’s sleep.”

But then, making himself more comfortably on the floor, he barely audibly added:

“Besides, you said it is impossible to break the contract with the Arkana.”

Asra said nothing, but Muriel heard him laughing – it was very-very quiet laughing.

It took Asra quite a while to find something that would help people, as he said, remember Muriel. They didn’t understand why he didn’t forget him himself, - maybe because of their friendship, or maybe because myrrh, which helped to remember, was always in Muriel’s hut and in Asra’s bag. Myrrh. So simple, so elementary – and for so long he could not connect it with Muriel.

Muriel shrugged, grumbled, said that he wasn’t interested if it works, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he was… afraid. That it would work, that Lynn would remember him – and all he had done, and all he had said, and that he would see contempt in her glare. Or it won’t be any contempt – and then he will hurt her again, because there is no other option. He will hurt her again. So… maybe she doesn’t need to remember. Maybe it will be better this way.

It must be better this way.

He said that to Asra every day, but he kept up. And when Muriel almost agreed to experience myrrh, the plague came.

***

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either. Do you remember me saying that already?”

In his hut, while healing his wounds, yes. Ages ago.

“It’s not about me. It’s never… I don’t matter.”

“Don’t say so. Of course you do.”

Warm palm. Sad eyes the color of the young spring grass. Silent, barely audible whisper.

“I trust you, Muriel.”

Blood on the sand. Bruises on the wrists. “You are not welcome here.”

“I don’t trust myself. I know how it ends – you, bloody at my feet, just like everyone else! Like… Like…”

Like the last time.

He must leave. Before it’s too late, before he ruins everything again, before he believes that he could live a normal life, that she really could feel something for him. He tried to pull his hand out of her fingers and met her gaze.

Frightened eyes the color of young spring grass. Warm palm.

Soft lips.

And the world around him has stopped.

Asra tried to find a way to revive her, to get her back, and Muriel thought that he’s only torturing himself and him as well. He almost hated her for what had become of his once merry friend – he almost stopped to eat and sleep, he returned to the palace and Muriel didn’t meet him for a long time. And then Asra burst into his hut and, panting, blurted out that he knew what to do. He tried to dissuade him – by God, he did all he could. He tried to explain that it wouldn’t be her – Muriel didn’t believe that one could return from the dead and still remain the same. She didn’t have a body, all that was left of her was only bones and ashes, and how, good heavens, may this become the same Lynn as she was before the plague?

“Anything is possible,” Asra said to him. “If you are willing to pay the price.”

Muriel couldn’t imagine what would happen to Asra after the bargain. What would happen to Lynn. He expected the worst, and when Asra burst into his hut after the bargain was deed, he thought that his worst fears had come true.

“She doesn’t remember. Anything. She doesn’t remember anything at all, Muriel, she doesn’t even know how to talk!”

***

“It was always easier to run away.”

“It was always easier to give up.”

“To live alone.”

“No one asked anything.”

“No one expected anything.”

“It was peaceful.”

“Then you showed up and I realized…”

“There could be more. Maybe.”

“May be.”

Asra moved to her house. Sometimes Muriel saw them on the streets – her pale face, blond hair, bewildered and surprised green eyes. She had the same face, the same figure, the same eyes, but something had changed in her – subtly, elusively. She learned to walk again, learned to talk again, learned to live for real, and Muriel thought that if they would remember him, if he could become decent man, if not for this load that pressed on his shoulders, then he, probably, would do the same – would learn how to walk, and talk, and live.

She re-acquainted with Vesuvia, studied magic and didn’t even imagined that somewhere in the forest, in his hut, which now so often seems empty, lived he, Muriel, forgotten by the whole world. And he got used to thinking that it would be better. That’s good. Let her live her life, let her laughing at the Asra’s jokes… let her falling in love with him.

And then she ended up in the forest, in front of him, and stubbornness, confusion and surprise were mixed in her wide eyes. He tried to drive her away, tried not to react to her, but…

“You need help. And I can help you.”

And he needed help.

And he needed her.

Very

Much.

[otonymous]

The Absence of Fear (SLBP Saizo - NSFW)

Description: Saizo comforts like no other can. Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Trigger warning: near death experience. Word Count: 1770 words (~9 mins of smut/fluff) Author’s Notes: (Currently reading through Saizo’s MS and catching some major feels) + (Saizo’s birthday month) = one smutty story.  Happy reading! AO3: Read here

Tagging: @quincette: because of the gold that is your SLBP masterpost (especially “Green-Eyed” and “Personal Injuries”)!

Also tagging other lovely readers: @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons, @artemira-sengoku, @dear-mrs-otome, @pseudofaux, @fieryanmitsu, @otomediary, @suzi-q-uinn, @kitty-kat-ty, @saizoswifey, @belxsar, @anyakane, @friedchikyorice, @whalebubblez, @selenecrawford, @akiza-hades-rose, @rubyleeray, @heavenzfiend, @duerme07, @classy-mc, @dani677

All characters & SLBP owned by Voltage Inc.

The water burns as it rushes up your nose like fire catching quick, filling your airways to choke all cries for help as it takes your breath away.  The river, its waters still carrying the tenacious chill of winter even as the trees on its banks began to bud green, carried your body like a rag doll in swiftly moving currents meandering out to sea.  And yet, you were unafraid.

“CAW!”

The piercing cry of a large crow, black as night, echoes throughout the expanse of valley as it tears through blue sky, a sentient signal for its angel of death.

No, today would not be your day to die.  

Just as the sunlight starts to dim during your descent through the watery depths, a flash of silver bursts into the river like a falling star, the impact lifting your spirits as well as your suspended body.  And when you feel his arms yank you back up to the land of the living, you know he will be cross to find that you can muster up the strength to smile even at a time like this.

But it was easy to smile, because child of darkness though he was, Saizo was the brightest light in your life; the angel of death your ever faithful guardian.

“Are we so clumsy that we can’t even do the wash without falling into the river, little lady?”

His tone was calm and collected as always, but by now you had learned to recognize the things that betrayed the Lord Assassin.  Practically imperceptible, but there nonetheless, like the way one ear twitched when he was tense, or how his desire for you manifested in crimson irises so dilated his eyes became dark with need.  The way his hands clenched tight around your shivering body as they did now, his fear of losing you palpable with every touch.  

And you were right, he was cross.  But Saizo had waited to deliver his admonishment, his hands busy first patting your back as you coughed the water from your airways, then rubbing back and forth across your cheeks to return them to their former ruddiness.

“Lord Yukimura will be so upset when he finds out all his fundoshi are now floating off to sea.”

A smirk crosses his lips at your offhand remark as he makes to stand, carrying you in both arms to head back towards the spot where your foot slipped on a mossy rock, the basketful of dirty laundry a mere speck in the distance to remind you of how far downstream the river took you.  In spite of the water dripping from both your clothes, you are warmed by the heat coming off your lover’s body, never getting a chance to feel the chill that would otherwise come with such a close brush with death.

“Saizo, it’s ok, I can walk.  You can put me down now.”

“Not a chance.  Take a look at your ankle.”

Sure enough, it isn’t until your eyes drift past the wet hem of your kimono that you see the protrusion above your foot, angry and red.  Your body had all but forgotten about pain in an attempt to save your life, and now that the emergency had passed, your renewed attention brought it into razor-sharp focus.

You feel Saizo’s grip tighten to hold you closer as you wince and you steal a glance at him.  He was always careful; the placid expressions on his face not giving anything away.  So too was he careful with you, often noticing what was wrong even before you yourself realized it.  The thought filled you with a mixture of joy and gratitude.

“Saizo?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“That’ll be ten skewers of dango, little lady.”

“I think I can manage that.”

Smiling, you bury your head against his solid chest, listening for the steady beat of his stalwart heart as your body swayed to the rhythm of his steps.

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

“Hush.  I need to look you over for other injuries.”

Saizo cuts off your protests upon your return to your bedchamber, his hands making quick work of your wet robes, throwing them off before gently laying you onto your futon, all the while taking especial care with your bandaged ankle.

And even though he’s had you so many times before, the intensity of his gaze on your body, totally bared in broad daylight, makes you avert your eyes in embarrassment, desperately trying to focus on something other than the increasingly shallow rise and fall of your chest.  

When you feel the slow drag of his fingers traversing from your feet up, up…up, his featherlight touch makes you shiver as the fine hairs of your skin stand on end, anxiously anticipating the trajectory of his caress.

You look at your lover kneeling at your feet, half expecting a mischievous smile on his lips.  The lines drawn across his face however, are solemn, and the devastation upon his brows tells you that to Saizo, this is no farce, no intent to tease.  You can only guess at how he is silently berating himself for his perceived failure in protecting you: every scrape and scratch a slash from a katana, the sprained ankle a fatal blow.

And you knew at times like this, words would only fall on deaf ears.

So you reach towards him to pull his face to yours, ignoring his frown at being interrupted from the task at hand.  Bringing your lips together, you part the seam of his mouth to allow him to feel the warmth of your breath, tongue and taste proving to him in no uncertain terms that you were indeed alive and well.  

The calloused pad of Saizo’s thumb rubs against your kiss-swollen lips, grazing the teeth that loved to settle into the pink scars of his broad shoulders to muffle the sounds of your frequent mid-day indiscretions.  And when it finally plunges into your mouth to languidly stroke your tongue, you greedily suck to bring him close enough to see your desire mirrored in his eyes.

You did not know at what point your hands had torn away his damp kimono, so desperate in seeking the sensation of his naked skin upon your own that you were operating solely on instinct.  But if you were capable of rational thought when you were intimate with Saizo, it might have scared you to think that a man could have such an effect on you.  And if you were privy to his thoughts, would you have been afraid to learn that he similarly unravelled like loosened thread in your mere presence, self-control fraying at the edges?

Soft strands of pale moonlight tickle the edge of your nose as Saizo trails kisses along the lines of your neck and jaw, the press of his body lying behind yours all at once comforting and maddening.  

Sighs tumble from your lips when you feel his arms encircle you, his chest hot against your back as his hands continue their work of exploring the beautiful landscape of your figure: traversing the sloping hills of your breasts to the dip in the valley of your navel, headed due south until they finally reach the drenched cleft between your legs.

Your head falls back against his throat when you feel the smooth slide of his touch along your folds, your cheeks set to combust when he offers his hand, shiny with the slick of your arousal, as visual proof of your excitement.  Then, before you can utter a single note of protest, his fingers disappear into his mouth, tongue tracing his lips to diligently catch every drop.

“Care to know how sweet you taste, little Miss?”  

Saizo says when he catches you staring, his hand tilting your chin to face him from behind as his lips capture yours, strokes of his tongue sensually pushing remnants of your flavour into your mouth.

Still locked in a kiss, his head begins pushing insistently against your entrance, Saizo hooking his elbow beneath the knee of your uninjured leg to spread you widely for him as he slowly slides his heat in to the hilt.  Your lover takes a moment, as he always does, to allow you to adjust to his size, waiting for your clenching muscles to relax and settle around his cock before he starts to thrust in earnest, his mouth hungrily swallowing your moans to ensure a total lack of interruption.  

You hear a slight hiss when his hand reaches down, seeking to feel the slippery friction at the junction of where your bodies met.  And when his fingers gather the moisture there to glide around your clit in tight circles, you arch against him, blindly reaching behind you to grip his hair and pull.  

The look of ecstasy on your features further prods the beast inside the shinobi, so he allows you to pull his face further into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he marks up your tender skin in an attempt to maintain control.  No, Saizo was determined to see to your pleasure before he chased his.

His breath hitches when you finally unravel around him, the tension unfurling in spasming waves that conspire to pull him deeper and deeper within you, seeking to hold him permanently as they temporarily interrupt the rhythm of his pelvis slapping against your backside.

When the tremors finally subside, you feel the softness of his lips press upon each closed eyelid before he readjusts his grip on your leg, the intensity of his thrusts now tinged with aggression as his breath becomes increasingly irregular.

Mind still half-dazed, you reach down to gently stroke the base of his cock, fingertips exploring the delicate skin even as he relentlessly pumps to fill you over and over again.  Then, pressing your lips close to his ear, you whisper,

“I love you.”

A strangled cry catches in his throat as he throws his arms around you, the heat of his breath on the back of your neck as comforting as the heat of his release coming fast and deep inside.

Saizo makes no move to withdraw, prolonging your connection as you both languidly descend from the cloud you were adrift on.  He buries his face into your hair, breathing deeply, and on the exhalation you hear his quiet response,

“Me too.”

And as his lips seek yours again, you are filled with wonder at how those two little words had the power to chase the darkness away, Saizo’s love giving you all the courage you needed to live a life marked by the absence of fear.

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