#truly nothing will make me irritated faster than someone touching my hair

[lillybean730]

i like to visualize myself as having stat bars to help me figure out how i feel

there is an entire bar dedicated to "how much i can tolerate someone touching my hair"

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

You can't tell me that Sevika's strap game isn't god-tier. LOOK AT HER AND TELL ME TO MY FACE THAT SHE DOESN'T HAVE THE BEST STRAP GAME IN THE WHOLE OF ZAUN. GO ON, I'LL WAIT.

HBFHBHEBIB my second username of choice was sevikasstickystrapon

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, subspace, overstimulation, sevikas sticky strap

Literally any pace would have you falling apart. She's all about the motion of the ocean and she will take all night discovering what gets you to make those pretty sounds for her

You're so responsive for her that she might think she's your first

If she's not, you'd tell her that no one's made you feel like that before/made you come that many times in one night

This would honestly piss her off and she'd want the names and addresses of your previous lovers bc it is SO EASY FOR HER to please you

Which means they weren't trying so they need death :)

"I was wringing you dry last night, the fuck?" You'd be a blushing mess at her words, her protectiveness, and the memories

You'd defensively ask her if she had ever made someone come like that

"Have you never made someone come before?" You stuttered out defensively, cheeks alight with embarrassment. A low chuckle meets your ears, smug at your naivety of her reputation. "Honey, I have. But never that many times in one night. You came every time I stuck my strap in you."

She'll be fucking you so good and you can't help but claw at her back, ignoring her no touching command and leaving red welts in your wake

"Hands." She growls. Your bliss is interrupted by her stern tone, nails retract and arms cautiously wrap around her neck. She stills and barks the command again but you don't want to let go of her. "No, please I just want to hold you." To her dismay, this softens some part of her and she kisses you, irritated. She'll start fucking you harder and you'll be clawing her up again, but she'll put up with it this time

Sevika is an absolute menace when it comes to over stimulation. If you work yourself too hard during the day, she's gonna make you relax. You'll just have to lay there and take what she gives you

She loves the face you make when you're fucked stupid, all of the worry and stress of the day gone

So she'll want to see it again and again and again

I hc that you're her first true relationship. With her job she never really had time for anything serious. The brothel was there for a stress reliever when she needed it (and she needed it a lot)

So you're the first thing that's truly hers. There's no sharing you with anyone, she has someone to call her own and she's gonna show you her appreciation

Also take a little half-assed drabble:

Moans filled the room. You were bent over the table, stuffed absolutely full by Sevika's strap. She didn’t even have to move the large toy in your cunt, wet dripping down your thighs, squeezed together as if that would stop her from breaching your entrance. You tried to move as little as possible, every movement overwhelming as the toy filled and pressed against the entirety of your walls. Whimpers fell endlessly from your lips, thighs slick and slipping together. When your eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they were rolled to the back of your head. Gentle pets against your hair comforted you as you moaned, overstimulated from every sensation. 

“Good, baby?” 

Your nod was sluggish and cut short when she pulled out slightly. The noises that fell out of your mouth were not under your own volition as the strap slid back inside you. Somehow her slow humping was more overwhelming, each drag rubbing against that one spot and bringing you to the edge faster than any harsh thrust would.

When you fall over your scream is guttural, sobs ripping from your throat when she continues those measured thrusts.

“‘Vika‘Vika‘Vika-”

“It’s alright, just lay there and enjoy it. Take what I give you.”

Your head was fuzzy, comprehending nothing but the feelings she drew from you and her gentle commands. Dutifully, you laid there spread for her, letting her use you and unravel every shred of coherence until there was nothing but her. 

“How am I supposed to stop when you keep making those pretty noises for me?”

Lips brushed your ear, breath casting over your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. You were wailing, sobs and moans falling from your mouth, intensifying when a hand lifted your thigh to give her more access.

“That’s right, open up for me.” 

Thrust.

“That’s-”

Thrust.

“-it.”

It felt like you couldn’t stop coming. Her hands massaged your tense muscles until you were boneless, every touch feeling like a kiss. Ink smudged beneath you from your tears, whatever document she was working on before was absolutely ruined. Like you.

You whimpered as she pulled out, shushing you before her warmth left you completely. Metal clanked against porcelain, something falling to the ground followed by a muffled “-shit.” You could only focus on your heartbeat pounding in your chest, the pulsing throb between your thighs.

Time didn’t exist. You had no idea if she’d been gone for five seconds or five minutes. Warm, calloused hands rested on your thighs and you pliantly spread them, slightly pushing your hips up and presenting yourself to her.

“That’s good, baby. But we’re done with that.” Words dripping with amusement weren’t enough to snap you out of your haze. A rag lightly cleaned between your thighs, mesmerizing her with your glistening arousal. Sevika smiled softly when you pushed back as the cloth wiped over your entrance, thighs parting again. 

“Eager to please, huh?” 

The rich oak wood slid against your cheek as your head bobbled in a nod, halted by hands now cradling your cheeks. “We’re through, sweet thing. Come back to me.”  

Sevika watched as your bleary eyes slowly crept into focus, a sleepy smile settling on your face.

“Hi.”

Your quiet voice was met with her chuckles. 

“Hey, babygirl. You good?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

The sight of you utterly spent brought a satisfied smile to Sevika’s face. She loved being able to give you the pleasure you deserved, that it was her that was able to take away all of your worries until you were floating in the clouds. Sevika wasn’t used to having someone to call her own. She had favorites at the brothel, sure, but they were never entirely hers. Now here you are, someone she could never tire of, who she always looked forward coming home to, who she could ply with riches, status, and sex until you were sick of it. 

She never thought it would be possible to feel this way about another person and now she made sure to give her thanks to you in her own way, making sure your needs were met and that any stress of the day was fucked away before you slept. Of course to you, she was just your hyper sexual partner.

After she was able to get some water in you, combating the whines with coaxing pets and encouraging praises, a bowl of fruit found itself in her metal hand. Your grumbling protests were ignored as you were hoisted into her lap.

“I wanna sleep, Sev.”

“A few bites for me, c’mon.” 

By the third bite, you were mostly back to yourself and gave her finger a nip when it pushed a berry to your mouth.

“Brat. For you to behave, I have to fuck you stupid? Is that what it takes?”

Burning cheeks hid in her collar bone, a teasing little “maybe” muttered into her skin.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

[honey-lemonz]

From wattpad:

Xmale reader

3rd pov

Sexual Content is included move on if not comfortable with

Includes:masturbation, but plug, dildo, getting caught, slight degrading rough and passionate sex, multiple orgasms, sexual frustrated Obanai.

Request by:EMOPHASEWHENIWASAKID

(Some parts by me other by the Request..)

(if you read American boy here is your smut that I never added. Taisho era)

For almost two years the sun pillar was sent away on an expedition mission to northern Japan, the rumor of the blue spider lily was heard around. A rumor that sounded so true that Muzan may go there himself.

The pillar wasn't sent for the flower he was sent for the upper moon that could be sent or the demon lord himself.

Leaving behind his younger siblings, Tanjiro and Nezuko who was demon. He was also leaving his lover. Iguro Obanai the serpent pillar.

Obanai understood reasons they sent him. He could handle the cold and could handle the upper moon without and problems..its just..

Its been two whole years without him. That meant no one to come home to at their home. Kaburamaru had no ball of sunshine that could let him sleep in his hair. But for obanai it was worst.

Two years sexually frustrated.

Obanai has tried many things even taken suggestions from others. Nothing. 

He could get off on just memories or the kimono's he wore that were left behind. He has sent letters but most were professional ones. Not any promising any punishment or any reward when he would return. It would get to were he would put a but plug in his ass just to satisfy the itch that his lovers cock could get to.

He had to be feeling the same way? Right?

Or was someone else pleasuring him? No he couldn't, Obanai knew. Only he could satisfy his lover the best.

The serpent pillar sat on the back patio of his shared home. For the time being he had finished taking another nap. He had a dream about a fantasy about his lover returning and fucking him ruthlessly.

But a dream is only as good as you make it.

He walked back to the futon on the floor. Feeling the arousal slowly makings its way out of his tight heat. The but plug wasn't going to work anymore. He needed something fucking him, penetrating him.

Pulling the (favorite color) toy out of his hole, leaving it gaping and stretched. Obanai whined at the loss full feeling. But he got up and went into the bathroom. In a small black box were a box full of toys Obanai had even before meeting his lover.

But after meeting him..they weren't needed at all.

Obanai squatted and looked inside for the dildo he wanted. He found one that was about 5 and half inches and was a good 2 inches wide. It should do for now.

In these two years he has been a horny mess. Constantly needing something to please him and the uphill battle of his needs. He just wanted his lover back to please all those needs. 

God it was infuriating.

Obanai's own cock was still hard as when he woke up from his nap. Tip red and need of attention. It was painful but still didn't go away. He just could not finish.

Obanai sat down on the silicone dildo and moaned at the feeling. it wasn't a bratty or a desirable one just a moan of something inside him. It filled a good percent but not enough to reach his prostate. Obanai started to move up and down, bouncing on the dildo.

His white kimono slipping off his shoulders, showing his smooth skin and none marked skin. that was another whole problem he didn't like. 

Trying to get down to the hilt of the dildo to at least graze his prostate to ease the itch, he was moaning and gasping at the fullness. Maybe this time his needs would be met.

Obanai was stroking himself and teasing his nipples, the sensitive buds were being pulled at and pinched, leaving the pillar awe struck. 

Moaning his lovers name as if it was a cry or a plea. Obanai speed up his pace, moving to lye on his back and use his hands. One hand stroking himself the other using the dildo to fuck himself. He was so close, eyes becoming glossy at the feeling. 

"(M?N) FUCK~! Fuck, fuck, shit, please my love come fuck me.." he was crying for his dear lover. The dildo wasn't hitting the right spots no more, and the itch grew even more harsh. His toes curling and his head thrown back on the futon.

"Why when your obviously doing it yourself? Having a hard time getting off my cute little baby?"

Obanai froze. His eyes snap open to see his love sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the room. He was in his uniform, (favorite color) but plug in hand inspecting it. "So this is what you have been doing while I have been away. Begging me to come home and fuck you silly like the slut you are? That's quite surprising isn't it."

His words weren't hurtful just teasing. Obanai could see the large bugle growing in his pants. The sun pillar had his hair down which rested the floor. His uniform at the top was slightly unbuttoned at the showing his chest and abdomen. His eyes had bags under them. But his eyes..

Something Obanai has only seen a handful of times.

Eyes were darker and burning with a lust. His stare and hoarse voice was enough to set the tone.

Obanai felt his cock twitch and he moaned out a spur of curses. 

"Now your having dry orgasms by just my appearance? You must be a desperate little whore today aren't you?" He didn't move from his spot what so ever.

Just drinking in on his expression. It was filling and made both Obanai and (M/n) twitch.

"Please, my love its been two fucking years with out you,please fuck me.." The sun pillar chuckled. "So my cutie is begging to be fucked? That's unlike you Obanai. If you can fuck yourself can't yo get off?"

Obanai groaned at the teasing. He just wanted him to fuck him. 

The an idea came to him.

His lover looked too calm for him. He needed him to get to his level of arousal, by being a fucking brat about things. if he wanted to get fucked he needed to do more.

"No."

The eyes on the sun pillar widen. 

"Why no then cutie? I just saw you so continue."

"No. I want you to fuck me. Unless you've lost your touch." Obanai said getting a little more confident. If keep going he would get the punishment he deserved.

"If my dildo was that close than what says you? I've used them plenty since you left two years ago. SO why don't you come over here and fuck me. Or has the sun pillar found a better bottom bitch to fuck?"

That set the fuel to the flame.

Calm and collected turned to possessive and aroused.

(M/n) was possessive of Obanai, he loved him and only him. Insinuating that he found a better person to fuck made the calm pillar pissed. Obanai knew this, because his lover can get jealous and possessive he knew what he did.

And is getting what he wanted.

The sun pillar was on Obanai in less than a second.

Choking his neck tightly and pinning his hands above his head. Eyes that were usually full of love and kindness, were dark with lust and irritation. He knew his words were empty but couldn't let it up.

"Why when I have a bratty bottom slut here? You want to piss me off for a good fuck cutie? You want me to pound you, make sure you can't walk for a fucking year?"

Obanai had another dry orgasm from his words. This is what two years of a pent up sun pillar was..

Then he should be sent off more often. ( Empty threat.) He hasn't even touched him fully for him to even think like that. The red headed male unbuttoned the rest of his uniform, not having the patience to take off all of his clothes. He undid the belt, taking the hands off of Obanais wrist.

His cock sprung free.

Oh how Obanai wanted to suck him off and tease him. But now wasn't the time.

(M/n) pulled the dildo out and scowled at it.

"Such a pathetic size, this trying to please your for that long, no wonder you couldn't get off cutie..don't worry we'll fix that..

positioning him at Obana's desperate hole, he slammed into him.

"Now!"

Obanai threw his head back and scream. His cock spurted long ropes of cum. Something he couldn't do until now.

"Cumming already? We just started, you really were a desperate slut?" He slammed into him again. Ever word followed a thrust, each time hitting Obanai's prostate and making his see stars. (M/n)'s past wasn't fast or slow. Just from Obanai challenging him made him almost bust a load.

The hand around Obanai's neck tightened, pushing on certain spots to not restrict air, just to make him a little dizzy. Obanai's toes curled as his lover slammed his cock into his tight heat all while degrading him.

His reward.

(M/n) pushed his legs to his chest, making his cock go even deeper into Obanai's dripping heat. He was truly surprised, he was that pent up himself. He didn't even have time to masturbate himself on the expedition.

"Fuck, my cutie your so cute looking fucked out of your mind. Is that what you wanted? To get fucked stupid by me?"

Incoherent word mumbled back a response.

"Yes..please~ fuck..*hic* me more~" He was hiccuping from the tears. The long haired pillar nodded and made sure to aim for his prostate and to basically abuse it as best as he could. Sweat ran down his forehead, making his hair stick to it. The white shirt underneath the black on was sticking to the sides of his torso.

Obanai's eyes had tears brimming out, drool slipping from his lips. His hands held his legs to his chest, hair spread out on the futon all around him. Moans and shouts, hollers and begs came out of his mouth without a care of who heard.

That's what the larger pillar wanted. he wanted anyone and everyone hear his beloved getting fucked out of his mind.

"Such a good little slut..you want the whole village and headquarters to hear your getting a good fuck cutie? You want them to hear you getting pounded by your lover? How you begged and been a bratty  bitch with a fucking plug between your legs? You want to be seen as my slut then I will make you my slut."

He pulled out of Obanai's tight and puckered out hole, flipping him face first into the futon. Using his foot to keep him in place and rammed back into him and a faster pace. Obanai's moans and screams were blocked from the futon mat he was getting fucking into.

 His cock spurted more roped of cum even though it wasn't touched.  His lover feverishly gripping and slapping his ass for good measure.

"God fuck, i'm going to cum and fill your little whore hole kay? I need you to tell me who the fuck gets to fuck your bratty ass kay cutie?"

Mumbles came as an answer. (M/n) making and annoyed noise, pushed his foot harder on Obanai's head. "Can't hear you cutie, you don't get my cum if i can't hear you like fucking you. Again and louder.  Why can fuck this bratty ass cutie?"

"Y-you.."

"Louder cutie!" He removed his foot from his head and pushed his chest into Obanai's back, teasing his over sensitive nipples and continued slamming into him.

"LOUDER."

"FuCk~ YOU DO!" Obanai had tears all over his face, face read and a mess.

"Good now let me fill you with cum like the slut your are. Such a pretty cutie for me." As he said that another orgasm ran through Obanai. It was becoming painful a little.

Obanai's babbles were filled with begs about being his cumslut and filling him to the brink. With one final thrust, making the smaller male see stars again. His desperate prostate and hole was filled with thick and large amounts of the larger's cum.

Emptying himself out, Obanai's hole was milking him dry of the desperate need that was begging to be released. His loved pushed deeper to make sure he took all he had to offer.

He slowly pulled out of his stretched and abused hole, gaping at the loss of contact and fullness. Obanai screamed again while being filled and also came again. He could feel his lovers seed push out of his hole and onto the futon below them.

Pushing the hair out of his face, (M/n) looked at the sight his lover was him. The demon slayer below him, the feared serpent pillar of the demon slayer headquarters looked as if he had been drugged.

Well he was, off of his lovers addicting seed, smell and cock.

"You did so well cutie, such a good slut. See if you follow instructions you could get fucked like this more often instead of pissing me off kay?"

This even only made Obanai want to be even more of a brat to him.

^wattpad, kny oneshots.

[heejojo]

Love Isn't Beautiful But With You It Was

✰ summary: y/n and niki's journey from being enemies to friends to much more than that.

✰ pairing: Niki x fem!reader (and a Jay apperance)

✰ genre: fluff, angst, enemies to childhood friends to lovers

✰ warning: a few sad scenes but I'm not sure they'll be too bad! death

✰ word count: 1.8k (the most so far tbh)

a/n: this is my first fanfic so please leave comments about what should be improved. if you have any requests feel free to leave them! it's past 12am now and I need to sleep but I hope you have a nice day!

prompt gotten from @moonlight-chi77 thank you!

“Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was”

Life disappears in the blink of an eye, but the memories created and the human connection formed does not. The memories created are embedded in our hearts and follow us through different paths of life. Whether those memories are good or bad, they become something we reflect on in later moments.

Nishimura Riki couldn’t exactly remember the first time he met you but all he knew was that he had never hit off with someone the way he did with you.

September 2012

Although Niki couldn't pinpoint the exact date you guys started talking, he knew it was in September of 2012. He knew at first he disliked you and wanted nothing to do with you because you had stolen his spot on the swings.

“That's my spot, I told Jay I was going to stay here forever,” he said while his friend who was behind him nodded enthusiastically, backing him up.

“Your name is not on it and you didn’t buy it so why should I leave?” you asked him without coming down because you got there fair and square.

“I called dibs on it,” he said while puffing out his chest.

“Dibs are for babies,” you say while continuing to swing. “I’m not a baby,” he retorts.

“If you say so, then why are you wearing a Talking Tom T-Shirt?” you ask and his face begins to turn red. “It's cool, isn't it Jay?” he nudges his friend asking him for support. “Cool man, girls just suck” Jay responds and they both leave. “At least I dress myself!” you yell at their retreating figures

After that day, Niki made it his mission to disturb you every day and never wore his Talking Tom shirt again after that day.

August 2016

“Niki!!” you screamed as you felt another water balloon hit your leg. At this point, your entire body was soaked. The young boy continued to laugh and run as you chased him. You were beginning to regret spending your summer break with him when you could be watching TV instead. Eventually, you give up chasing the blond-haired boy and go into the house to dry off. Thirty minutes later, Niki comes in with a bottle of orange juice as a form of apology. You snatch it without further thought and drink it. Looking up at him after you finish drinking it, you both burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re lucky I love food,” you say. Maybe spending the summer with him wouldn't be so bad.

December 2018

Your crush on Niki was painfully obvious to everyone but him. Your friends teased you, his friends teased you yet when you were together you denied it with so much vigour. Niki had liked you for a few months now. Everyone was enjoying the slow burn that was going on between the two of you; the soft glances across the room, the way you always looked for each other among crowds, the way he knew where your secret birthmark was even though your close friends didn’t.

It was the way you complimented each other that made everyone cringe and aw at the same time. The jacket you got him for his birthday was his most prized piece of clothing and the only person he let touch it was his mum. This year though, you gathered enough courage and told him how he meant to you and how you were content with being just friends even if it hurt a little. But you weren’t expecting Niki to say he felt the same way, even more so. Your friends heaved a sigh of relief and choruses of ‘Finally’ were echoed.

It felt good being with someone.

January 2019

Everyone argued with people they loved right? Your parents did, the old lady that sells fruit and her boyfriend did so you and Niki weren’t an exception. After being childhood friends for so long you’d think you could trust each other enough to talk about the things that bothered you but he refused to, claiming that he didn’t want you to see him in a different light and how it would hurt his pride. You would tell him that no one knew him more and cared about him the way you did. At times, you’d let it go not wanting to push him but that day you couldn’t take it.

“We need to talk. Why have you been avoiding me these past few days?” you asked him.

“I’ve just been busy” he replied.

“No, you’ve been avoiding me. I know you well enough to know when you're hiding something” you said.

He wouldn't budge, he never did especially when you cornered him like this. He started to get irritated and said, “I said I’ve been busy so forgive me if I can’t give you attention all the time. Not all of us are as clingy as you” You winced; it was your fault for pushing him to the edge like that. Nevertheless, you wouldn't give up. “ I just want you to say how you feel and what bothers you. I’d never look at you in a different light and you know that. You might want to be strong but it’s okay to show some sort of emotion, it doesn’t make you weak rather it makes you look like someone that acknowledges what is wrong and doesn’t try to ignore the problem or solve it on their own” you comforted him. As the words entered his ears, you could see the walls surrounding his heart crumbling. “It’s okay to ask for help or just to rant to someone. Even if we won’t be able to provide an immediate solution, it should help” you added taking a few steps forward and grabbing a hold of his hands. You squeezed them tightly.

“I...I’m just scared you’ll leave once you see the not so perfect side of me” he managed to say. “I will stay with you, why don’t we make the best of everything without worrying about the future?” you asked while smiling. He returned it and pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you, truly,” he said and you smiled under his embrace.

After a few minutes you spoke up, “Oh yeah, Niki?” you called his attention and he hummed in response. “Don’t ever shout at me like that again, I can deck you and you know it” you said.

“Got it, boss. Sorry for being a jerk”

June 2020

You usually went on diets and exercised a lot but you were losing weight at an extreme rate and you weren’t even on a diet. Niki was worried but you brushed it off telling him it was stress from school but it got worse. You found it difficult for you to balance yourself, you felt nauseated, getting even more frequent headaches and being tired all the time so Niki decided that enough was enough and took you to the hospital. Neither of you had expected the result of the scans that were run.

“I’m sorry but there is a tumour in your brain,” the doctor said. The air left your lungs. “You can choose to get the surgery and live in the hospital for 8 months or live with the tumour for 3 months” he continued. You thanked him and left the hospital. The elephant in the room was very much alive and neither one of you wanted to address it. Did you want to stay in the hospital for the rest of your life or did you want to say with your loved ones? You thought that they would go through and that won’t be worth it.

“Niki” you called out.

He looked at you with a sad smile and just pulled you in for a hug, careful not to hurt you. “Do you want to tell your parents?” You nodded. You couldn’t just leave without saying anything. Picking your jacket, Niki drove you to your parents house.

“I just wanted you guys to know, I couldn’t just leave without saying anything,” you said with your eyes cast downwards. You couldn’t bear to look at your mom who was already crying or your dad who was blaming himself even when it wasn’t his fault or your sister who was basically your best friend. Niki had given you guys privacy but you knew it was just an excuse for him to be with his own feelings.

“I’m going to stay close to home in the meantime so I can be closer to you guys,” you said. Your eyes were already becoming glossy with tears. You inched towards your mom, taking her hand in yours and said, “You did an amazing job of being my mom and I love you so much”. Moving to your dad, you said “You did a good job of protecting me so don’t think otherwise. Let’s make all the memories we want to now without any regrets”. At that, your sister burst into tears “I… I can’t bear to lose you” Your heart clenched. “I can’t bear to lose you too” She continued crying. Your mom wiped her eyes and said, “From today, live the way you want to. Eat what you want and do what you want.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Niki staring watching the whole scene. After an hour, I stood up and went home with Niki. The car ride was a long and awkward one. When we got home, we just slept hugging each other.

Starting tomorrow I was going to live.

July 2020

The pain is getting worse but the smiles on my family and friends faces are enough to keep me going. I wrote letters and got gifts for them. Niki looks at the calendar every day, I can’t tell him to stop because I can tell he’s hurting so much. Why can’t I just be okay for everyone?

August 2020

The time comes faster, Niki and I went on a getaway for a few days. He deserved a break from everything that has been going on.

September 2020

I never thought I'd die as silly as that sounds. I asked my parents and sister to leave when I got to the hospital. Niki refused to leave and stayed there till I took in my last breath. He kept crying begging me not to go and how he’d do anything.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked between sniffles

“No it doesn’t, it just feels like a needle” it hurt like a truck.

“Liar”

I chuckled and held his hand till I couldn’t anymore. “I love you’’ I say as the lights fade.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Dear Nishimura Riki,

When you see this, it means I’m already gone. First of all, don’t beat yourself up too much. I could write for ages about how much I love you but now that I need to, my mind goes blank. You’ve done so well for putting up with me, hats off to you. You might not want to but move on, even though id like you to remember me; let your heart heal and be happy.

Take care of yourself and don’t skip any meals. Eat well and be happy, make sure you visit the places we never got to visit and enjoy yourself. Live life the way you want it every day. Be nice to people and smile more.

Thank you for all the happy memories, my love, I’ll be forever grateful for you. You made my life colourful and worth living.

Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was.

Yours truly,

Y/N.

[jarofstyles]

Stay

A/N: this is one of the little one shots we wrote for @majorharry​’s 20k fic celebration (congrats to cass she’s is amazing!! we love her writing so much 🥺) we used prompt 30 “you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” Our take on punk!harry catching feelings for a hookup 

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

send feedback and requests here 

masterlist 

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader 

warning: a bit of angst 

word count 4k

“You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” Y/N watched as Harry scrambled to get his clothes on. 

This was a regular routine for the two of them, Harry would text her telling her to be ready when he arrived. She wouldn’t exactly call their relationship a relationship. She felt like calling it a booty call made her feel gross though that’s the closest to what it was. Y/N wouldn’t even call it friends with benefits. Harry wasn’t her friend, he never tried to be. They were from different sides of the spectrum. Harry was rough around the edges, blunt, pretentious. An arrogant son of a bitch if you asked Y/N. She leaned more on the safer side of things, not a good girl, but not exactly bad. Just your average girl. She’s boring and uptight if you asked Harry. 

“It’s 2...” Y/N trailed off to look at the clock, “2:46 in the morning, just stay.” She sighed, sitting up and bringing the sheet up with her to cover her front. She wasn’t sure what his deal was, but it started to get under her skin.

“That isn’t my thing, Sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, feeling the panic bubble in his chest at the idea of staying. Of being too close to her. Y/N was equally as terrifying to him and she had to have some clue.

Harry didn’t do relationships. Hell, this was the closest thing he had to being truly intimate for years and he was terrified. He had gotten a bit too comfortable with Y/N and found himself wanting to stick around too long after their fun. It was made abundantly clear to the both of them that they weren’t going to be anything more than a booty call. After the last time, it had been insanely good and he had fallen asleep in her bed. Waking up with her curled up on his chest, the warmth, the comfort? It was so amazingly lovely and so terrifying he could cry. No. He wouldn’t allow himself to get attached again. 

Besides. She was... god. She was fucking immaculate. Smart and kind, talented and sweet. There was no damn way she would actually want a relationship with someone like him. Covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings and shit. Smoking and drinking and all that too. No. She deserved a nice guy. Someone with an office job.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She hated that fucking nickname. It felt patronizing, but she knew that wasn’t the angle Harry was coming at this all with. He was avoiding her. She could see it. The way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Harry was well aware she could read his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to hide from her then. 

“Harry, it’s fucking pouring.” He didn’t have a car, she knew he had full intentions of walking back to his apartment on campus. Y/N looked at him with furrowed brows, realizing he wasn’t stopping. She reached over and slipped her Fleetwood Mac shirt back on, getting up to walk over to him. “If you’re that fussed about it, you can take the couch, or I can take the couch, but I’m not letting you walk home in the fucking rain in the middle of the night.” Y/N spoke sternly, but her voice was soft. What was the big deal?

“No. You aren’t taking the couch— get back in bed.” He sighed, closing his eyes. Fuck. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, Y/N didn’t do anything wrong at all. She was being her normal, sweet, tender self and wanted to make sure he was safe and he understands that but... fuck. “Go back to bed. I’ll sit until the rain stops and call an Uber or something.” He was nervous. He knew that if he laid back in bed with her that he would like it and want more of it. Those kisses would be soft and not the rough ones he was used to and he would melt. Normally his hookups didn’t make him nervous— but she absolutely did. Very much so. “Don’t give me that pout please.” He groaned when she looked up at him with puppy eyes and approached him slowly. Oh no. He was a strong man but he knew his inner weakness for her. He felt it. Didn’t want it.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.” Y/N frowned, genuinely confused. What I’m earth was he on about? Sitting until the rain stopped or getting an uber? Was she really that unbearable? Y/N wasn’t going to beg for him to stay, but if he really wanted out there must be a reason? She thought maybe since they’ve been having regular sex for a few months that maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal for him to just stay. “I don’t understand you, ya know?” She muttered, looking at him as if she was examining him. What changed so much? He had come into her home all guns blazing a few hours ago, pinning her against the wall, ravishing her after a night of drinking with her friends. She even thought they made progress when they had a little laugh about it afterwards, but then he was up and itching to get out. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of me, but do you have to be so fucking stubborn?”

Wait. What? Harry furrowed his brows and looked at her with disbelief. The way he had just fucked her as if his life depended on it? How did that translate into him not liking her?

“Hold on. No— I don’t dislike you or anything. M’not trying to get away because I don’t like you.” He said lowly, face full of confusion and a bit of irritation. “Jesus Christ. It’s the opposite. That’s why I can’t bloody stay in your place.” He felt a bit stupid admitting that because even to him it didnt make total sense. All he knew was that she wouldn’t like him the way he could end up liking her and he already had the beginnings of something more than a crush. He knew he fell in love quickly— far too quickly. And he didn’t want to set himself up for more disappointment.

Now Y/N was confused. 

“And that’s supposed to make sense?” She asked with furrowed brows, her arms crossing over her chest in defense. It was chilly in her apartment, but she wasn’t about to go put on more clothes when they could just get back into bed and go to sleep. If he would just listen. “You stayed here last time and you were fine.” Y/N stayed simply, “just go lay down, can go home whenever you want tomorrow....” She was giving up on fighting with him, but of course his words were still ringing through her mind. If he liked her why was he so desperate to leave? Why did he want to get away from her so bad? It didn’t make any sense at all.

“Yeah, I did and we cuddled! We aren’t supposed to do that.” Harry stressed. When her face was even more confused he let out a dark groan, covering his face with his hands. How did she not understand this? This dilemma, this crisis? They were meant to be fuck buddies. Nothing more. She wouldn’t be interested in more and it was so fucking embarrassing to think of himself catching emotions for her when she would just laugh or not want to be involved at all. His last girlfriend had summed it up by explaining that Harry was fun for a while. Fun to explore and live out that bad boy fantasy with his motorcycle and crazy parties and tattoo artist apprenticeship but he wasn’t boyfriend material. If she thought that —and she wasn’t a total prize once he thought about it— Y/N would for sure laugh if he wanted more than that.

“You understand you’re making zero sense right now right?” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “You were balls deep in me and cuddling is what you’re worried about?” She asked with a small sigh, taking a few seconds just watching him. “Look, I’ll stay on the other side of the bed if you want. Just stay. It isn’t a question, you’re not leaving.” Y/N didn’t like being challenged, she liked getting her way and he was making no sense with his talk. She reached out and took his hand, pulling him back towards her bed. She was tired, sleep was visible on her face but she wouldn’t sleep until she was sure he wouldn’t leave. 

Truth be told she didn’t want him to leave for other reasons. She liked having him around, even if sometimes he didn’t act so fond of her and pushed her away. Y/N liked having his calm energy around, liked him roasting her, liked how he always found a way to get her to wind down. Not to mention sharing a bed with him during the night was incredibly comfortable. When they started this whole thing, Y/N knew that there was a possibility that she could catch feelings. However, she let those die. He wasn’t interested. She was just some good pussy to him.

He felt squirmy. Sitting in bed with her and not touching her felt wrong. It felt weird and uncomfortable and he just wanted to pet her hair and gently touch her skin and it was such a weird and odd feeling. He wanted to vomit. How the fuck was he even doing this?

She was terrifying.

He didn’t realize he had said that out loud until she turned over and looked at him with a questioning look. Fuck. Oops. 

“I... didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He cleared his throat, face flushed as he realized he didn’t know how to get himself out of this.

To say Y/N was thoroughly confused was an understatement. Y/N was getting antsy, she didn’t like all this scrambling around, she wanted to have an adult conversation with him. 

“Can you please just tell me what is on your mind? Cause I’m lost.” Y/N sighed, “you text me telling me you’re going to come over, you get here all eager to see me, fuck me for two hours straight, then want to get out of here faster than I can say your full name. Say you’d rather wait the rain out or get an uber than sleeping here. Tell me it’s not because you don’t like me but because you do like me, then say I’m terrifying? Am I reading this wrong or?” Y/N wished he could just be straight up with her, she didn’t have time trying to figure him out.

“For fucks sake!” Harry sat up on the end of the bed so he didn’t have to look at her. It was too embarrassing. Getting flustered over this. “I’ll get too comfortable. I’ll sleep here and we’ll cuddle again and I’ll feel close to you and you’ll end up getting tired of me.” He huffed. “No one keeps their feelings for me for too long and I’m fun to fuck around with but I’m not relationship material.” It was obvious he had heard this before and it had stuck in his mind. Very much so because it was like he was reciting it bitter from memory. “And then you’ll be tired of me and I’ll be used to sleeping in your bed, and I’ll be fucking worthless with sleep again and it’ll fuck me up. I don’t want that shit to happen. I’m not the type of guy you want to cuddle or sleep with anyways. M’only decent for a fuck.” Plus, she hadn’t shown any real interest besides the fact she did want to fuck him.

Y/N sat up, completely taken aback. She didn’t realize it was getting like this. Hell, she was fully convinced he just didn’t want to be around her outside of their sex life. But to think he had been sat here convincing himself of things that just weren’t true? Assuming that she wouldn’t want him when, if given a proper chance, she would? “And how the hell do you know what I want?” She asked out right, “you never asked me... and I never said anything about it. You’ve barely even attempted conversation with me, fuck... and you just—” Y/N knew she had to relax. “If I didn’t want you sleeping here I would have let you leave. If I didn’t care about you I would have let you leave.” Her voice was softer this time. She took a few moments to calm down and then decided to speak again. “You know you could have asked me... what I wanted? Know it’s scary— and... I don’t know who hurt you.... but I don’t want to be lumped in with them. I don’t think like that...”

Harry clenched his jaw. He didn’t know what to think. With Y/N being as sweet as she was,  he didn’t think she would be one to lie about it.  It did make sense if he thought about the fact that she never kicked him out. He was just the first to leave so she wouldn’t have to be the one to say it and make him feel weird about it. He was used to that. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still not turning around to face her. He felt like a bit of an idiot as it was. He didn’t want her to think that he didn’t want to stay either but he wasn’t sure how the hell to go about it. “You’re... I dunno. You’re nice and different and it’s terrifying. I don’t want to be rejected by the nicest person.” He said lowly. “You’re really sweet and I’m scared to get to know you properly. Everyone talks about how lovely you are and I know you must be.” God, talking about feelings? He didn’t know how to properly do that without sounding like a damn idiot. “I’ll probably like you a lot more than I should. The sex is fucking fantasitic. But then I think about you kickin’ me out or waking up and realizing what you’ve done and get upset.”

Y/N could understand him, sure. It was self preservation. He assumed because of his past and naturally, he wanted to be ahead of the curve. He didn’t even give her a chance. Y/N felt like this type of behavior didn’t help anyone, only landed them in situations like these. 

“Hurts a lot more when you just get up and leave ya know?” Y/N swallowed thickly. “Feel dirty... used... convince myself it isn’t what you mean and that maybe it’s just cause you’re ashamed or something.” She said with a shrug, “know you’re a nice guy, know you don’t mean it like that... but..” it still hurt. “We decided it wasn’t going to be anything more and I wasn’t expecting anything more, just thought maybe we could be I dunno... not like this?” Y/N chuckled sadly. “Thought that we could be friendly even if it wasn’t real? Dunno, just... the last time you were here it felt nice? Felt like what I wanted it to feel like, minus the awkward bolt you did once you realized where you were.”

“Fuck. I’m a dick. I didn’t want— I don’t want you to feel like that.” That had him turning around, piercing in his brow slanting down with the snarl in them. “I just can’t do this shit right, huh?” He groaned, a sarcastic chuckle leaving his throat. “Jesus. I don’t know how I manage to fuck shit up so damn bad. I don’t want you to feel dirty or used cause you’re not. I enjoy myself, darlin’.” There was a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. How the fuck did he end up getting it all wrong? “Wasn’t leaving cause I didn’t like it. Left because I did. Too much. S’not what I’m used to and I don’t think I could have stomached you telling me to leave, so I just left before you could tell me to.” He looked down at his lap. “M’sorry, Y/N. It wasn’t my intention. Know that doesn’t do shite to make you feel any better and doesn’t take away the fact that I’ve been a dick but, I thought you’d want me to leave.”

“Why?” Y/N asked softly, deciding that if she got him talking she might as well get the answers she wanted out of him. “Why did you think I’d want you to leave? Cause I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Y/N told him honestly, “it isn’t polite and even then I thought... I would feel like shit if someone asked me to leave.” She explained with a small sigh. “Just because we decided it was nothing more than sex didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to at least try to be your friend or something... I just assumed that wasn’t what you wanted. Practically ignore me everywhere else.” Y/N knew that no one really knew about them. They sat there for a few moments before she decided to be bold, to look at him properly and just get this over with. 

“Do you want this to be more than sex?”

Harry sat and thought about it for a moment. Of course, he did. His little crush on her was massive now and he had been kidding himself every time he left to walk away and do dumb shit like this. 

“I didn’t think you had any interest because you didn’t really show any besides wanting to fuck.” He said bluntly. Which is true. “I thought I’d be overstepping boundaries by suggesting more. Plus... you’re so.... good. You’re sweet as fuck, you’re smart, I would have thought you’d want an office dude or someone who’s going to give you some sort of good stability. Not some guy like me.” Harry shrugged, looking over to her. “I can’t tell what you’d want. Maybe s’partially my fault because I leave so quickly. But... I dunno. Maybe? It’s... it’s hard.” He didn’t know how to explain it properly. On the outside, he was a dickhead. A bad boy. He fucked, drank, smoked, dabbled in coke and shrooms. He was an artist, wanted to be a tattoo artist, didn’t see himself leaving at least for another 2 years. Then he wanted to go to New York, or New Orleans. Something bigger than him. Would she want any of that?

“Could’ve asked me out for a drink or something... didn’t have to be this elaborate thing.” Y/N sighed and played with her fingers some more. Obviously she enjoyed herself, obviously she didn’t want it to stop, but he wasn’t wrong about her not showing him any signs of wanting more. They agreed to it being strictly sex so she kept it at that. “So what then, you’re just going to keep coming around and fucking me and leaving again?” She asked quietly, “what do you want me to do?” Y/N didn’t know how she could help in this situation. She didn’t deny him, never said she wasn’t interested, but when asked if he wanted more he deflected. Y/N had been single her whole college career. She wanted to focus on her school work, besides, all the college guys were assholes... most of them were. They just assumed they knew more, tried to mansplain everything. She hated it. Y/N didn’t want that. If she was going to get into a relationship of any kind, she would hope that they brought out the best in her, made her feel like she could have fun the way Harry did.

“No— obviously m’nit gonna do that. I didn’t realize it made you feel shitty. S’what everyone else has wanted but... I should have realized.” Harry licked his dry bottom lip. “You’re a lot nicer than them. Softer. I shouldn’t have just treated you like everyone else and m’sorry for that.” Of course she was different. She was just... sweet. She never made him feel poorly and always praised him during sex. Always was excited to see him. He really felt like a massive dick. Especially seeing the worry in her face. “What do you want?” He asked, picking at the non existent lint in the bed. “Like... would you want to do somethin’ other than that?”

“I wanna go on a date...” Y/N said without really thinking, “if you want... we can like, go for coffee or a drink or something just... talk.” She didn’t know what he was going to say, she felt like she would bite the bullet in this case since he was far too nervous to take initiative. She had to force it out of him.  “And if it’s not up to your expectations then I guess we can just pretend it never happened or something... you can even come here for dinner if you want?” Y/N didn’t want to make a fool of herself. “and if you don’t wanna do any of that then maybe we can just like... be friendly?” She rubbed at her eye, feeling extremely sleepy. He really did fuck her good. 

The two of them were realizing that they were both full of shit. They should have communicated better, shouldn’t have been guessing. Neither of them wanted to comprise the sex but sometimes, adult decisions had to be made.

“I’d... you’d really want to go on a date with me?” It wasn’t something he had ever initially expected but hey. Harry would take it. Especially because she was so shy usually but she had been the one to switch roles and take charge when it came to talking about feelings.  “Yeah. We can do that.” He noticed she was sleepy, rubbing at her eyes and felt guilt course through him as he noticed it. “Why... don’t we talk about this in the morning’. You’re so tired.” And damn, was she cute. He felt a bit of pride as well knowing a good fuck could help aid in the sleepy thing. 

“I promise I’ll be here in the morning.” He stood up and took his jeans back off but kept the shirt on, not sure what was proper when sleeping with a girl when you weren’t fucking them. This was good, yeah? Cuddling was still foreign so he wasn’t going to attempt it— he would let her decide if that’s something she wanted. “Any of that sounds good to me. M’sorry I was a prick. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me but that’s my own fault.”

“It’s okay, you can make it up to me.” Y/N was happy that he agreed to go on the date with her. She felt like it would be nice for them to actually have a conversation without it leading to sex. Just for them to get to know each other properly and not just based on what they’ve heard. She hummed as she felt sleep coming on, immediately falling back on the bed and getting all cozy. Y/N curled up and pulled the pillow closer to her, looking up at him as he stripped back down. “Shirt too.” She mumbled. “cause you’re warm.” Y/N cooed and patted the spot next to her. She moved to curl up to him, lifting his arm so she could rest her head on his chest. “What? You said you liked the cuddle.” She teased, nuzzling against him. “Could you turn off the light?” She asked, pointing to the switch above her bed.

Harry felt okay now. A bit shaky— but better. He didn’t know what would come of this, but he could feel that he was comfortable and warm and bright. Happy. She made him feel at ease with these simple things and had even suggested a date. A date.  Something the man hadn’t imagined a girl like her would ever be into but, look at them now. When he turned off the light and settled into the bed, feeling the warmth of her body as she clung on to him— there was one thought that kept going through his mind. 

It’ll be alright.

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A/N: ahhh thank you for reading, this is something a bit different for us, but hopefully these little oneshots/blurbs we can post a bit more often in between series updates! also, but congrats to cass once again, you a queen. we love you 🥺 - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist 

[softomi]

Playing pretend isn’t just for kids

Oikawa Tooru

He had asked you days earlier, perhaps the most last minute thing he could ever do; you still disagreed to it the day before. He had flown back to Japan just a week ago for what you had told him was the stupidest decision of his life. He was attending a reunion, not just any reunion, it was his high school reunion where you knew he would fall into the worst trap of his life. Her, long hair, beautiful body, behind the innocent face she gave every boy in her direction, she was a witch who practically put a spell on any guy; even the Oikawa Tooru.

Last chance, if you pretend to be my girlfriend, she’ll totally get jealous and want me back.

It was the worst plan he’s ever told you, worse than the time he thought pranking Iwaizumi would be fun. You locked your phone upon entering the restaurant, the only guys who looked your way was the volleyball team members; the rest let their eyes remain fixated on the witch.

“Where’s Oikawa? I thought you guys were coming together?”

You laughed, “Seriously? Did you guys really think I would agree to his stupid plan.”

“You’ve agreed to much worse.” Hanamaki turns his head when the door rings, nearly spitting out his drink upon seeing Oikawa dressed overly fashionable; he can only imagine Oikawa hiring a stylist just for this moment.

“We’re about to be blessed with peak comedy right now.” Matsukawa along with everyone at the table turns in their seats.

You rolled your eyes, downing the alcoholic drink in front of you, “You guys are terrible.” But what you were going to do was worse. Perhaps you were being selfish, seeing him again after all the years; maybe this would be the only chance to see if those high school feelings were actually real. But if anything, you realized the moment he stepped through the doors, you weren’t going to let him fall down the rabbit hole of her again.

As soon as you saw her get up, you stood to your feet, moving quicker to him. Oikawa’s eyes were locked onto hers, she was smiling invitingly to him. You did the worst possible thing, your footsteps quicken to reach him mere seconds before she could; his eyes questioningly on you as you pull him down from his tie, pressing your lips against him.

“Hey. I missed you, what took you so long?” Your eyes darted to her direction, “Sorry, haven’t seen my boyfriend in so long, almost forgot what he tasted like.”

You don’t miss the way the former members of the volleyball club are hollering but you miss the way a hard blush is plastered across Oikawa’s face.

Akaashi Keiji.

He wasn’t always so invested in relationships, heck, even when you dated him; he wasn’t as whipped as you saw him now. She basically had him on a tight leash, the tie she was pulling on his neck made the sight just perfect for that description. You could barely hear it, but he was apologizing, she was continuously spouting nonsense, and he was merely a puppy following orders. It truly put a distaste in your mouth. In the last two hours since you’ve reunited with him and everyone else, he seemed on edge, even tense in her presence.

“Hey.” You stop him just as he’s exiting the bathroom, “Everything good Keiji?”

Akaashi’s eyes are fixated on the buttons of his dress shirt, “Yeah, just freshening up.” He talks in a hurry, attempting to leave but you pull him by the wrist.

Your eyes are laced with concern, “If you need anything, you know you can talk to me right?”

“Keiji!” You let go of his wrist, watching the woman storm over, “Sorry, but he’s taken.”

You scoff, “Excuse me?”

Her lips lined with disgust, “You can’t just waltz back in his life expecting to win him back.”

“Honey.” Akaashi tries to stop his lover, “There’s nothing going on.”

“No.” You cross your arms, your hand pushes Akaashi to the side; you face the woman up front, “Actually there is something going on, actually.” Your voice draws out the last word, a finger tapping the bottom of your lip, “I just gave him the best head of his life in the bathroom. Actually.” You’re stepping forward, making her take one back, “He’s still hopelessly in love with me, maybe that’s why you feel the need to wrap a tight collar around his neck.”

Her hand slaps across your face. Akaashi puts himself as a barrier between you and the girl.

“Don’t hit her.” Akaashi’s voice is shaking, “I don’t love you.” The words he’s been dying to say to his girlfriend for months finally leave his mouth, “I love y/n.” Akaashi, too, received a slap across the face before she storms off claiming to be embarrassed in front of everyone.

You laugh freely, “Gosh, when did you start dating such a witch.” His back still faces you, suddenly you’re feeling bad, “Keiji, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t take things too far there.”

“No.” He turns to you, staring down at the red mark on your cheek, “Are you alright?” His hand brushes against your cheek.

You grin, “I’m perfect, it was so fun to do that again; remember that’s how I would get all of Kuroo’s flings to ditch the house. Nice touch though, saying you love me.”

“Yeah.” But he lied, he was still hopelessly in love with you.

Kageyama Tobio

It was supposed to be the biggest publicity stunt of his career, he had no idea why this was deemed a ‘good’ idea. But his entire team of advisors insisted that this would move him up in his career; to get caught in a dating scandal. They had even brought him a list of potential clients for the job, or as they described it, potential love interests. He was too embarrassed to tell anyone, he was even too embarrassed to try and pick out someone just based on their looks that he told his committee to ‘just pick someone’. That’s how it started, that’s how you entered his life.

Kageyama Tobio caught on a date with a-list star Y/N.

“It looks good doesn’t it?” You show him your phone screen, you were with him in the locker room. It was game day for him and you had to show up to support your boyfriend. From the three months you had gotten to know him, you could tell he wasn’t much of talker; at least not at the moment.

He only nods when he sees your screen, “Yeah.”

“Oh here, I got you this.” When you throw the item, he automatically catches, “I heard that you loved milk cartons so I got you one as a good luck measure for your game.” Your smile catches him off guard, “Cute isn’t it? I found this place that sells cute milk boxes with different styles on them. Look.”

He turns the carton to place it upright, “It’s a volleyball.”

“Cute right?!” You sit upright to face him, “Hey, this whole publicity thing, don’t think too much about it okay. It’ll be over before you know it; they’re planning on releasing our break up article in a few months but in the meantime we can just be friends.”

The door opens and the voices of men enter, as you turn your head, a dusty blush paints his cheeks.

“Kageyama, you can’t have a girl in here.” The men begin to crowd you.

You smile innocently, “Surprise!” You’re pulling a small basket of bento boxes out from under your seat, “I know I can’t be in here, but this will be our little secret. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so nice to my boyfriend.”

The boys thank you as they take the gift from your hands. The hand on your back makes you turn, grinning at Kageyama as he starts to lead you out the door. When you two reach outside the doors, you’re bidding him farewell until he pinches the back of your shirt to bring you back.

“Here.” He drapes the jacket on your shoulders, “Cheer loudly for me okay?”

You slip your arms into the jacket, a small giggle on the tip of your tongue, “I’ll make sure I’m the only one you can hear.” You wink before skipping away.

Kita Shinsuke

He always told you that you were too quick to get ahead of yourself, but how could you not when you were actively competing with his cousin’s girlfriend. He knew you absolutely despised her especially since at the last family gathering, she announced she got a promotion at work right after you told everyone you just got hired at your dream job, earning her immense praise from Kita’s grandmother while you got a pat on the back. It irritated the hell out of you. You were so much more involved in his family than she was so why was it so hard to earn a little praise from his grandmother.

“Honey, I think you need to calm down a little bit.” Kita tries to take the champagne cup from your hand, “I don’t know why they’d serve champagne at a child’s birthday party.”

You laugh, wrapping a hand onto his arm, “I just can’t believe she would do that, announcing that they’re moving in together.” You whisper to him, “You know what, she’s definitely getting back at me.”

He’s quickly pulling away your fourth cup of champagne, “And just why would she do that, she has no reason.”

“Not true.” You wave at a family member who’s passing by, you’re leaning into Kita more, “Remember your mom’s birthday part, we wore the exact same outfit, and your mom made her change.”

“I think you’re thinking into things here honey.” You shoot a short glare at him, his mother was right, Kita was too nice to understand the situation.

You give him a slight squeeze on his arm when the rival couple approaches, “Quick, think, what tops moving in together?”

“Y/n seriously.” Kita puts on a smile when his cousin approaches.

She gives you a look from your head to your toes, “So how are you guys? You’ve been dating for a while now.”

“Six years.” You say proudly, “Just four more than you’re relationship right?”

She gives a haughty laugh, “Yes, well, at least we’re going to be living together now.”

“We’ll be moving in together soon anyways.” Your lips move faster than your brain, “After all, we’re engaged.”

Kita spits out his drink, his cousin reciprocates; coughing as he congratulates Kita on finally popping the question. Suddenly all the family members nearby crowd you two, giving congratulatory praise for the sudden engagement.

Kita drags you off to the side, “Excuse me, just when did I propose to you.”

Your stomping your foot, “She was just so irritating, I had to do something.”

“Something?” Kita tries to not fall for your pout, “That something is us planning a wedding.”

Your pout gets bigger, soft eyes as you lean your chest out with your hands behind you, “Well, I just love you so much.”

He becomes flustered, “Fine. We’ll fake our engagement.”

You smile, pressing a quick peck to his lips, “Don’t worry, I’ll pretend I didn’t know that you were planning on proposing next week under the tree by the rice field.”

“I can’t tell those twins anything.”

Miya Osamu

He thought it would be funny to play a prank on his brother. Atsumu had been bugging him so much lately that it was practically unbearable; especially when he started randomly dropping by the apartment. It wasn’t romantic trying to reach your high hearing someone else call your boyfriend’s name. So, Osamu thought it was time that Atsumu got taught a lesson on leaving his brother alone. Osamu practically begged you to go along, at first you thought it was a cruel prank, but the day Atsumu opened the bathroom door while you were in the shower; that was the day that you gave Osamu the okay.

“Samu!” Your voiced intruded the volleyball team’s practice. You were angrily storming into one of their free practice days, Osamu specifically picked this day as to not intrude on actual practice and to plan a special surprise Onigiri Miya delivery, “How could you?”

“Babe what’s wrong.” He greeted you with a concerned look. All heads turned to you, even Atsumu’s eyes were hooked onto the situation.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. You know exactly what you did.” You’re sharp with your words, “Did you think I wouldn’t know, that you’re messing around with some whore behind my back.”

Gasps fill the air, Water spurts out of Atsumu’s mouth.

“Babe, what are you talking about.”

“Is that why Atsumu’s been over a lot lately? To keep my attention away from your cheating. Is he supposed to distract me when you come home late?” Your eyes are reddening, Osamu and you practiced how to fake cry beforehand, “You sicken me, both of you!” You point at Atsumu who’s heavily shaking his head at the assumption.

“Wait, baby.” Osamu grabs your wrist but you turn, planting a hand harshly onto his cheek and he lets go as you storm off.

“Samu.” Atsumu whispers.

Osamu shoots his brother a look, “Don’t even think about following us.”

“Babe!” Osamu is running after your figure.

When he catches you in the hallway, you’re turning around with a giggle. You run a hand over where you slapped him, pressing a kiss on the area while he wipes away your tear stains.

“How long do you think he’ll be away.” You whisper.

Osamu lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder, “Long enough.”

In the gym, the tension in the air sticks like glue. Atsumu is having a mental breakdown on the benches while three men stare from the court.

“I bet you guys it was a prank.” Sakusa states. The other two insist it wasn’t, the scene was just too real for it to be fake.

[tenkoscumslut]

Hawks x reader (angst)

(credit to _yorixxxx on tiktok they inspired this)

Your mind was in its own universe, walking through a rich meadow, the smell of blue gold filling up your senses, it was almost time to go home, almost.  You almost leapt out of your chair when the clock hit 5, you little fantasy vanished, forgotten, like you.  

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked home, it was months after the incident, months.  Kiego had promised to never do it again, promised and promised and promised, but all of them were lies, though you were to blind to see it.  The familiar streets were your comfort area, you loved your life, you loved your boyfriend, his affection, your apartment, your job, everything.

As you flirted with the keys, trying to find the right one, you managed to find it.  It opened up his apartment, tonight was date night, he always did the sweetest things, he would take you out on late night flights, kiss your forehead and apologize for that one night.  His words were meaningless, but they filled you with happiness.

Before you were drowning, you head was submerged underwater and you could swim to the surface.  You were exhausted, even though it was right there, it was so close, it was in your grasp, you could never reach it.  Thats when Hawks came, he made you go head over heels for him, he was your savior, he was the one who saved you.  He picked you up, letting you take deep breaths of the fresh air, and you loved it.  You were addicted to it.

So when you opened the door, and saw another pair of shoes, you didn’t mind, you didn’t even think about any bad outcomes of this.  You quietly closed the door and set your shoes next to his, assuming he had a coworker over.  You walked up the steps into the living room, and there was Hawks with his “coworker”.

You couldn’t move, they were to loud to notice you, her loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, you could barely believe what you saw.  No, Hawks would never cheat on you, you knew Hawks, or did you.  You knew the hero, the man who saved others, the man who never broke someones heart.  But did you really know Kiego, did you know how he broke hearts, how he was a lying cheating bastard who was so toxic he couldn’t recognize your feelings.

“Hawks?”, you whimpered softly, not even knowing how to react to the lewd scene in front of you.  They both stopped, the girl, panting, a huge blush on her face turned to Hawks, “Hawks, who’s this?”, she asked trying to catch her breath.  Kiego stuttered, “J-just an old friend babe, Y/N, can you leave?’, he asked with...what was it? Irritation? Annoyance? Anger?.  

“Old friend?”, you repeated, “Were dating Hawks!”, you exclaimed, tears beginning to form, the girl clambered off of him, quickly putting on her clothes, “What the fuck do they mean Kiego?! You said you weren’t with anyone!”, she shouted.  “Y/N is lying, I don’t know them!”, he shouted, pulling up his boxers.

“You know what?! Get out! Both of you!”, you shouted over them, Kiego looked at you, shock in his eyes, the girl walked past you, she looked just as broken as you, “I’m sorry”, she whispered and quickly left the scene.  You stared at the ground, your fists were placed at your sides, Kiego walked up to you.  That voice, it made you fill up with joy, but know it felt so wrong to hear him.  “Babybird, listen to me, she didn’t mean anything”, he said.  Empty.  His words were fucking empty.

You wanted to screech, kill him, you wanted to wreck him, make him feel what you were going through.  “I already said get out Kiego” you managed to say, not bothering to speak in hopes of your voice not cracking up.  You looked up at him, those eyes, so beautiful, so ethereal.  You always thought he would only look at you like that, with so much love and passion, but behind it was emptiness.  He fucking used you.

To him you were a doll to be played with, a fucking sex toy.  You gritted your teeth when he didn’t move, instead tried to embrasse you in a hug, “Get the fuck off of me!”, you shouted, the tears finally spilling out while you kicked him, punched him, scratched him.  He didn’t let go, he couldn’t, Kiego was to selfish, he wanted you, he wanted a side chick, he wanted to fuck anyone he could but he couldn’t have you leave his side.

You were his other half, his soulmate, he truly loved you, yet he continued to hurt you, over and over and over and over.  It hurt him, sometimes he wouldn’t realize he was kissing someone else, he would try and imagine they were you, that it was your soft lips caressing his own.  That is was your walls clamping down on him, and it was your moans every time he hit their sweet spot.  Seeing you, without that smile, without that look like he was your everything made him break.

He fucking hurt you.  He did that.  “Get out Kiego!”, that was the last shout, he let go, knowing you couldn’t be with him anymore, his heart was strangled as he slowly walked over to the entrance, he’d let you stay at his apartment until you could leave.  He would give you the space he needed.  With one last look of sorrow, he left.

~~~

As the months went by, you had found a new job, away from Kiego, a knew boyfriend, a home, a new life.  It was perfect, Dabi was perfect, all that time thinking Kiego had saved you, all those times you felt like he was your savior was lies.  He blinded you, choked you, drugged you into thinking you were happy, but Dabi was your real savior.  He opened your eyes, showed you the world, real affection and loyalty, trust, everything you could possibly imagine.

Though Dabi did have his flaws, like almost burning the kitchen down when his ramen didn’t turn out perfect, he was amazing, and truly loved you.  Dabi would never go behind your back, and you would never go behind his. Ever.  

As for Kiego, he was a wreck, bringing home girls almost everyday.  They weren’t the same, they never were, you were truly one of a kind.  He was sobbing, he was forgetting your touch, your lips, you voice, it was all fading away.  He was desperately trying to salvage what was left of you, he had pictures of you in his bedroom, he cooked your favorite foods, he only dated people who looked like you but it was never enough.

Every night, their moans never riled him up, their lips wrapped around him never was the same, they never tasted as good as you, their kissed weren’t as sweet or filled with love.  Their eyes never held the same fire as yours, never the same passion.  Your sweet smell was slowly fading away to, one of the only things he had left.  

he had even bought the same perfume you would wear just to scent things and try to keep it in pristine condition.  As for the girl he was dating behind your back, seeing her walk into his office everyday made him gag, she couldn’t even compete against you.  

After months of not being able to hear your voice, enough was enough, he opened up your contact, there were tons of messages from you, left on read from when he was cheating on you and he didn’t bother to reply.  His fingers manuevered over the keyboard.

He didn’t know how to start this off, would he say sorry? Hi? How are you?, he then just settled on Hey, nothing really complex or to formal.  His heart was beating faster than ever, he set himself down at his counter, his wings flapping lightly at the prospect of you replying.

You were making dinner, just some rice and fish since you didn’t feel like making something to extravagant.  Your phone dinged next to Dabi who was watching a show, he lifted up your phone, narrowing his eyes at the unknown number.

He stood up and walked over to you, unlocking your phone to look at the message, “Hey, doll, who’s this?”, he asked, staring at the conversation before you found out Hawks was a cheating bastard.  You had deleted his contact, thinking you also blocked him.  You grabbed your phone and looked at the message, trying to remember who it was.  “i do-”, you cut yourself off when you saw the previous text messages.

“It’s my ex, you don’t need to worry about him”, you said, turning your phone off and kissing Dabi softly.  He hummed happily, his hands snacking around your waist and massaging your inner thighs.  You turned off the stove and fully turned around to kiss him, things quickly escalated, your bra was off and your panties were thrown somewhere.

Dabi was on his knees, your legs on his shoulders while he devoured you, you tugged at the roots of his hair, whining and moaning for him, crying out with he hit the perfect place.  Your orgasm was quickly building up, and then your phone rang.  Dabi pulled away from your lower lips, a scowl on his face while he glared at your phone for ruining the mood.

You picked it up, scowling when you saw it was Hawks, you did not want to talk to him, “Who is it?”, Dabi asked, tracing circles into your thighs, “my ex”, you grumbled, your thumb was about to press decline but Dabi stopped you,  “Answer it babe”, he said, you whined softly, “Why?”.  He smirked, “Do it baby, for daddy~”, he said, you pouted and answered the phone and brought it up to your ear.

Hawks wings were flapping widley when you picked up, his heart was racing, he wanted so savor your voice, memorise it, imprint it in his brain so when he manages to win you back its like you never broke up.  Like he never cheated.  Like he really was your savior.

Dabi leaned back down, and started to kiss your lower lips, his tongue traveling over your clit.  You held back a moan and managed to greet your ex, “Hello Kiego”, you said, you were greeted with a happy Hello.  Hearing his voice made sadness seep into your heart, but you were through with him, you were done, you had Dabi.  

“Why are you calling me”, you asked, your hand slithering down to pull at Dabis hair, you knew being this close to your orgasm, plus the thrill of being on the phone with Hawks was only going to end in something bad.  Dabis skilled tongue pushed into your sopping wet hole.  Your hand quickly covered your mouth, staffing another moan.

“I-I guess I just missed you...”, Hawks mumbled from the other end, “I was a fucking dick to you, I cheated on you twice and thats not right”.  Your orgasm was quickly building up again, Dabi removed his tongue and easily pushed in 2 digits, his mouth started working on your clit.  Your thighs clamped down on his head, trying to make this oh so more pleasurable.

“I was wondering you know...if we could start talking again?”, he asked, Dabi then hit the special spot he knew by memory, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.  A huge blush adorned to your face, “U-Um a-are you busy right now? C-cuz I can t-talk later?”, he suggested.  “N-no, I want to finish this conversation”, you mumbled, “I just ran into the corner of my dresser”, you lied.  Dabi was pinching at your thigh, you knew he didn’t want you to hang up.

Hawks was leaning back into the chair, a generous amount of lube coated his hand, he gripped at the base of his dick, squeezing softly, trying to replicate your walls.  He bit his lip, god just you alone had him painfully hard, and the moan that came out of the other end of the phone was the cherry on top.  His thumb ran over his sensitive head, over his sensitive slit, and rubbed back and forth.  At this rate Hawks could cum any second.

“Could we maybe meet up at the building I use to fly us to?”, he asked.  You bit your lip, another moan rising up, your release was so fucking close, you could feel it.  Your hand gripped at his wrist, not wanting him to pull away and take your sweet release with it.  “S-sure”, you were in a daze, Dabis wrist snapped forward, roughly hitting your sweet spot.  Your eyes rolled back, your body spasming and your walls fluttering around his digits.  Your sweet juices leaked out of your spasming hole.  Dabi removed his fingers and quickly started to lap at the juices.

You thought you hung up, your thumb missed and instead you put him on speaker, you started to moan and cry out, it was turning into to much, “Y/N..?”, you heard hawks through the speaker. “FUCK!”, you shouted, quickly hanging up before you could reply.  Dabi was laughing, and your face was flared with embarrassment.  He got up from his kneeling position and helped you off the counter.

Your knees were wobbly underneath you, Dabi carried you to the bed and finished what he started.

The mess on Hawks chest, there were no words to describe it.  He had cummed harder than he has ever cummed before, the thick white liquid shot out in thick salty white ropes.  His post orgasm soon kicked in, a hollow feeling burned in his chest.  He wished it was you instead of them, he wished he payed attention to you.

He wished he brought you around to parties since he knew how much you loved to dance, he wished he brought you flowers, and held your hand, he should’ve given you all his hours when he had the chance.  But know your dancing, but your dancing with another man.

And although it hurts, he’d be the first to say he was wrong, but he hoes he buys you flowers, and holds your hand, take you to every party because he remembers how much you love to dance.

[bellakitse]

I've got the remedy

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

+

Derek gets sick with werewolf flu, and Stiles is left to watch over him. Their mutual crushes come to a head.

“Werewolf flu?”

Stiles Stilinski looks at his friend Lydia Martin dubiously as she stands in front of the stove, heating up soup. She’d called as he barely crossed back into the town lines – home on break from school, with an SOS text telling him to get his ass out to the Hale house. That wasn’t the surprising part, even being away at Berkeley didn’t stop the wolfy emergency-related texts. However, he could admit that their dear Alpha had a better handle on things these days, and he didn’t get too many ‘the world is coming to an end; we need your google-fu, Stiles’ call these days.

Not that Derek was willing to call his impressive skills ‘google-fu’ in the first place, no matter how much Stiles insists. Just because the big guy had mellowed out over the years doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a sourwolf.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, probably because she has explained twice, and he’s still not getting it. “Peter didn’t precisely tell us – “

“What?” he drags out sarcastically. “You mean Peter Hale was vague about something?”

Lydia shoots him another look, more annoyed than the last, and Stiles smiles delighted, riling her up is one of his favorite pastimes. “Yes, shocker,” she says, returning his tone. “And he didn’t call it werewolf flu, but that’s essentially what it is, and Derek has it.”

Stiles frowns, looking up at the kitchen ceiling like it’s going to open up and show him their Alpha. “Is he okay?”

Lydia rolls her eyes yet again, and Stiles is starting to worry for her eyesight if she continues this way. “Yes. He’s just more irritating, if that’s even possible. Werewolves barely ever get sick, so he’s handling it oh so gracefully,” she tells him. The aggravation in her voice makes him wince.

“Where is everyone?” he questions. He knows the pack arrived days ago, him being the last one to come back to town due to a late paper he had to hand in.

“Far away,” Lydia answers as she turns off the stove. “I called Deaton. He said that while rare, the werewolf flu is contagious to other werewolves, so I sent them away because I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with more supernatural whiny babies.”

Stiles snorts loudly at that. “Can’t Derek hear you right now?”

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “Like I care about the big bad wolf?” she asks, her mouth quirking upward when a growl vibrates through the house. Stiles shakes his head, amused. It’s times like this when he remembers why he was in love with her for so long.

“Okay, so why did you call me?” he asks, instantly regretting it when she gives him a bright smile. “No.”

“Stiles – “

He shakes his head quickly. “No, you just said he’s moodier than ever – “

“He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t drown in his own snot,” she says patiently, and the house shakes again with another growl.

“His betas – “ he tries over the huff Lydia lets out.

“Will get sick if they come near him,” she reminds him. “You really want to deal with a sick pack?”

Stiles lets out a sigh of his own as he reluctantly shakes his head. Scott alone used to be such a nightmare when he got sick before his wolfy transformation. “What about Allison?” he questions desperately.

Lydia looks at him like he’s stupid, and he knows why. Even years later, Allison and Derek aren’t particularly close. She’s pack because she’s Scott’s mate, but she’d probably just end up putting Derek out of his misery before bringing him tea with honey.

“You?” he questions in a last-ditch effort, knowing it useless by the way she looks at him.

“What exactly do you think I have been doing the last three days when I should have been studying, Stiles?”

“We’re on break,” he argues.

“You don’t win a Fields Medal by slacking off,” she shoots back with a flip of her hair. “Besides, I’m not Florence Nightingale.”

“And I am?” he asks. “What makes you think that leaving me with a sick and, per your words, grumpier Derek Hale is a good idea? I’m just going to annoy him more than usual, which I’m sure is not going to make him feel better faster.”

Lydia gives him a look that Stiles has come to know as her ‘Stiles, you’re such an idiot’ face. He’s used to it, but he’s not sure what he’s said right now to warrant it.

“What?” he questions when she continues to look at him like that.

Lydia rolls her eyes because it seems irritation is her default setting for the day and starts to make her way out of the kitchen into the living room to gather her jacket and purse. “The soup is ready. Make him drink plenty of water, and there are these herbs Deaton gave us. It’s already brewed. He has to drink that too. Word of warning, he says it tastes like death, so he’s going to pout about it. Make sure he drinks it in front of you. The first day the big baby poured it down the toilet.”

“Lydia, please,” he tries again as she puts her jacket on and heads for the door.

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

Proving that she can be even more unimpressed with him still, Lydia rolls her eyes in a way that makes it seem it’s with her whole body.

“I don’t have time for your panic, so let me lay it out for you,” she says, not waiting for him to speak. “You two talk over the phone all the time. When you and I talk, you end up talking about him, and you get stupidly excited about making him laugh. He softens around you like no one else. You like each other, Stiles, and while it’s amusing for the rest of us to watch this little mating dance of yours, it’s also tedious as hell. Now, Derek has been a pain in the ass the last few days, and I guarantee you that you being here will put him in a better mood. So, I repeat, go upstairs and take care of your man.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but nothing comes out as he tries to process the truth bomb Lydia just dropped on his head. Seemingly taking his silence as an answer, she smiles, pleased with the havoc she has just wreaked, and walks out of the house, leaving him alone with a sick werewolf.

“Right,” he says to himself after a moment, closing his mouth and the door. He heads back to the kitchen, working on autopilot as he serves the soup Lydia heated up, pouring some of the herb-tea Lydia mentioned that does indeed smell like death and some water, placing it all on a carrying tray. All the while, he thinks about Lydia’s comments and the truth behind them.

He and Derek do talk all the time, sometimes for hours, about nothing and everything. He does get a ridiculous amount of joy when he can make the man laugh, and he’d been looking forward to coming home and seeing him, hoping to see and hear that laugh in person. There’s also the undeniable fact that he’s had a crush on Derek since high school, something he thought he’d manage to hide pretty well, but if Lydia’s words were true, then maybe not so much.

He feels his face go hot at the idea that the pack might be aware of his feelings, or worse, Derek. Because even if by some chance he wasn’t aware of them before, there’s no way he’s lucky enough for Derek not to have heard Lydia now.

Every part of him is screaming at him to get back in his jeep and drive home where he could hide under his bed until it’s time to go back to school. Instead, he grabs the tray and starts to make his way up the renovated Hale house. He’s faced scarier things than his feelings since learning about the supernatural, and it’s not the first time he’s been interested in someone wildly out of his league.

It’s his M.O.

Besides, there’s no way he could actually leave a sick Derek alone to be miserable if he can make him feel better. Lord knows the guy has had enough misery in his life. With that in mind, he pushes the door to Derek’s room with his hip, ready to deal with whatever is inside.

What he isn’t ready for is how good Derek looks. Stiles hasn’t seen him in person in months since his last break, and he looks amazing. Leave it to Derek Hale to get some strange supernatural cold and still look like a GQ model.

Derek is sitting up on the bed, and except for an impressive bedhead and unusually flushed cheeks under his scruff, he looks as gorgeous as ever.

“Life is truly unfair,” he whispers to himself, getting a raised eyebrow in return.  “What? Of course you would look this good while sick,” he says with narrowed eyes. Frankly, he’s annoyed by just how beautiful Derek is sometimes. “Can’t be like us lesser mortals who look like death when we have the flu? Do you just have to show us up?”

Derek stares at him for another moment before giving him an impressive eye-roll of his hazel-green eyes. “Why are you the most ridiculous person I know?”

Stiles snorts. “That’s simply not true. You also know Scott,” he answers as he makes his way towards the bed, tray in hand, silently apologizing to his friend for the dig.

Derek’s lips twitch for a second before he schools his features, but Stiles still catches it and celebrates the win with an amused grin of his own. It softens a bit as he sits down on the side of the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table to get a better look at Derek.

He stands by his original opinion that Derek Hale is just way too gorgeous in general, much more for someone sick with a magical flu, but this close, he can see the bit of bruising around his eyes from the lack of sleep. His cheeks are rosy-pink from sickness, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to press his hand against one.

Derek lets out a surprised sound at his touch that startles Stiles into realizing what he’s done. He goes to take his hand off the werewolf, ready to apologize for overstepping when Derek gives him a surprise of his own by leaning into his touch, his pretty eyes fluttering shut, a peaceful look coming over his face.

Stiles holds his breath as Derek lets out another lovely rumbling sound from deep in his throat.

“Your hand is cool,” Derek murmurs softly, his eyes slowly opening to look at him. “It feels nice.”

Stiles bites down on his lip, feeling his stomach clench when Derek’s eyes drift to them, and he licks his own.

Holy shit, Lydia was right. This whole time he had figured that this was just one-sided. That it was him once again developing feelings for someone who would never return his affections. But looking at Derek now, he sees the same want and longing he sees in the mirror every day.

“Oh, screw you,” he breathes out, tightening his hold on Derek when he tries to pull away. “Nope, you don’t get to retreat now, sourwolf,” he warns him with narrowed eyes, proving his suspicions real by the way he listens to him. “You heard Lydia earlier,” he challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“I have good ears,” Derek grumbles back.

“So you heard her when she said we have feelings for each other,” he says, his heart beating faster than usual with anxiety, and he knows Derek can hear that too. Derek’s almost timid, hopeful expression when he gives him a single nod helps ease that worry as he starts to feel hopeful too. “Only all this time, I thought I was the only one with feelings here.”

“I thought you were the smart one,” Derek murmurs, a small grin playing on his lips when he sputters indignantly.

Stiles huffs loudly, even as he’s unable to stop the silly grin that takes over his face.

“Your heartbeat sounds happy,” Derek tells him softly as he looks down to his chest.

“You like me back,” he answers, letting out an incredulous laugh when Derek smiles at him, not denying it. Instead, he looks at him fondly, causing Stiles’ heart to skip a beat at being the recipient of such a rare and special look. “I’m more than happy right now, Derek,” he shakes his head. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Derek smiles again, pushing off the mountain of pillows behind him, reaching out for him. Stiles does the same, placing his hands on Derek’s bare shoulders, playing with the edge of his white tank top. His face gets inches away from Stiles’ when he stops.

“Wait – “ he starts as Stiles already shakes his head.

“No, no waiting,” he whines, wrapping his fingers around the material of his shirt, leaning forward. He rubs the tip of his nose against Derek’s even as he tries to close the last inch of distance between their lips. “I have had a crush on you since like junior year, Derek. No waiting, no wasting any more time, kissing now.”

Derek chuckles slightly. This close up he can see Derek’s eyes shining with joy, and Stiles wants to be responsible for that from now on.

“I’m sick, remember?”

“Affects werewolves, not humans,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against Derek’s, sighing at the feel of their softness. His sigh turns into a low moan as Derek gives in, hauling him onto his lap, proving that werewolf flu or not, his strength is still superior.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck as he cradles him between his legs. He kisses him slow and deeply, thoroughly, it being such a long time coming. He sinks his fingers into Derek’s hair gripping it harder than he intended, pulling on it on reflex when Derek gives his bottom lip a bite. The pleased growl Derek lets out against his mouth vibrates down his whole body, making his spine tingle. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, only for it to turn into a gasp when Derek ducks to kiss his way down his neck.

“Totally worth the risk,” he gets out, moaning as Derek traces his moles with his tongue.

Derek laughs against his throat. He pulls back to look at him, smiling widely. “You say that now, but don’t complain later if you do get sick.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, not really worried or caring right now when he’s in Derek’s arms. “If it happens, we’ll stay in bed together until we’re both better,” he answers, his eyes lighting up as he speaks. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Let’s stay in bed.”

He waggles his eyebrows, grinning when Derek huffs, rolling his eyes at him.

“The most ridiculous person I know,” he mutters right as he rolls them over, ignoring the yelp Stiles lets out at the sudden movement.

Stiles blinks up at the ceiling while Derek throws an arm and a leg over him, settling around Stiles like he’s his own personal body pillow.

“What about the soup?” he questions even as he starts combing his fingers through Derek’s silky hair, scratching at his scalp with blunt nails.

“Mhmm,” Derek hums out, his face tucked into Stiles’ neck, already sounding half-asleep. “It will keep.”

Stiles laughs softly, but still, he wraps his arms more securely around the sleeping wolf, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead because he can now, closing his eyes too.

The soup can wait.

[boop-le-snoot]

skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

[cherryonigiri]

when and where (oikawa tooru) - part one

Summary: Tooru can’t seem to understand you loneliness, and you can’t understand his desire to sacrifice anything to be by your side again. In which the words ‘opposites attract’ are both your beginning and end. (Inspired by the song/lyrics of Undone by Haley Reinhart)

word count: 1.8k 

“Stars fade away, they just crash into space, disappear from my life, like you and I.” 

“Tooru,” you whisper. The numbers ‘5:00′ glare back at you in red, reminding you of the sleep that continues to evade you, despite feeling utterly exhausted. Your phone is glowing against the pitch black, the blue light acting as a substitute for the moon, which hides behind wispy clouds. “I miss you.” There is an ache that starts in the back of your throat, winding its way down to your chest where it stays, pushing, prodding, pounding against your sternum. Thankfully your voice doesn’t crack, but the tears are still there, trailing down your cheeks. You’ve steeled your resolve, but your heart is still drowning in the loss that is yet to come.

“I know darling,” he laughs. “I miss you too.” Another light-hearted chuckle. You can hear him shuffling through his bag. Seconds later, after the tap of shoes on tile, keys jingle and you hear the thump of the door shutting. It’s almost evening in Brazil (you know because you’ve long since memorized how many hours are between Sendai and Rio). The sun is probably setting on the beach Tooru just returned from, in complete opposition to the flickering stars keeping watch over your sleepless figure. 

That’s how it is between the two of you. Day and night. Tooru was more than happy to revel in his overwhelming brightness - embracing his role as the best setter in the prefecture and his popularity amongst his fans. He always had that smirk, the one that was always plastered on his face that screamed confidence in who he was. 

On the other hand, you clung to your shyness - you’d never liked large crowds to begin with, and you were happy with the small, close-knit, group of friends you’d made. You weren’t closed off, but new things were met with caution. Tentative touches and long gazes to determine whether an unfamiliar addition would disturb the peaceful familiarity you’d woven. 

The words ‘opposites attract’ made you snort, but you couldn’t deny that you’d been drawn to Tooru’s effervescent energy. (A year after you’d started dating Tooru had admitted he’d found a quiet refuge in his relationship with you.) In the beginning, Tooru had coaxed you out of your shell. Never forcefully, and always done with an observant eye. He ignored his team’s teasing, only inviting you to watch them practice after introducing you to each member individually outside of the university gymnasium. He’d rush you home in a heartbeat the minute you looked overwhelmed or uncomfortable. Like two planets, gravity had drawn you together, pushing you closer and closer with every orbit.

Now it’s different. Gravity is chasing after you, bringing your heart catastrophically close to disaster before flinging it into the distance. Your whispered ‘I miss you’ wasn’t an attempt to impart a fleeting bit of affection, or to reassure Tooru that your heart still beat for him every second of the day (which it did). No, it was meant to hide an unspoken plea that was begging him to return, to once again indulge in hour long phone calls late into the evening; to be present. Of course, you weren’t expecting him to pick up on that. After all, you’d dedicated your time alone to perfecting the art of not letting anyone know of your unravelling.

It started slowly—long video chats in the evening became less frequent, replaced by a dwindling number of rushed phone calls on the train to work. Short texts, snuck between sets and during water breaks, became the norm, erasing your habit of sending each other paragraphs about your days. You knew he felt guilty for missing the small snippets of time that he could spend with you. At the core of his being, Tooru is a caring person: he would run himself ragged and work himself to the bone for someone he loved. It was a double-edged sword; working harder and dedicating more time to accelerate his progress so he could return to you faster meant he was inevitably drifting away. 

“Tooru, I can’t do this anymore.” You wince as you throw your plan out of the window, foregoing any kind of verbal cue that would let him know that this was serious. That you were talking about more than having a mundanely horrible day at work.

“Love, what happened today? Was today a bad day? I thought work was going better…” Your boyfriend trails off as you remain silent. 

“This. Us. I think,” you gulp down the sob that threatens to erupt from your throat. “I think we should break up.” You have to force out those two words, break up, because saying them out loud makes it real. Makes this whole conversation real. Grounds it reality, in the realization that this is really happening, that your heartbreak is rushing towards you much faster than you ever wanted. 

You expect him to protest. To at least exclaim loudly and object to the separation. Maybe a part of you wants him to plead, to experience the same hollow loneliness of missing him. To tell you that, yes, I am suffering just as much, and feeling just as broken as you are. Maybe you are desperate, hoping that he’ll convince you that the exuberance he expresses over the phone is one of his carefully constructed facades.

“Can I at least know why?” You catch the slight uptick of his voice, the crack that he tries to hide from you. 

And that’s when your heart truly shatters. 

Because, by asking that question, he reveals that somewhere between his last night in your apartment and today, at five in the morning, the two of you stopped inhabiting the same realm of separation. In a way, Tooru had confirmed what you’d started fearing with every passing day: that he was stronger than you’d ever be. That he could bear the weight of being separated by continents and oceans while you were crumbling. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t endure the pile of missed calls followed by rushed texts of apology. You can’t stand that the only time you can talk to him is on crowded subways where the ever present bustle of other commuters intrudes on your conversations. God, now that you think about it, when was the last time you’d talked to Tooru for more than five minutes? 

“We barely talk anymore Tooru,” you begin, hunching over as both the tears and words begin to flow freely. “I—”

“But you know why y/n!” he responds. He’s pacing, the thumps of his feet echoing through the receiver. He lets out a sigh and you know he’s running his hand through his hair. It’s one of his habits that you have memorized. It’s painful how easy it is for you to imagine Tooru; all his little gestures and mannerisms etched deeply and intimately into your memory. 

“Yes, I know why,” you hiss. “But the fact that you never told me outright? That hurt Tooru.” It still does. It’s his strange blend of selflessness and ambition that has led you here. You thought you’d be sad, that this conversation would leave you with a heavy heart. Instead, a small spark of anger lodges itself in your chest. 

“How was I supposed to?” He retorts. “It’s not like I can ask you to give up your time with me. I’m trying my best to get back to you sooner!” But how can he say that when he’s already left you behind? Instead of extinguishing your anger, he only fans the flames, truly setting you alight. 

“Did you ever think to ask me? Did it ever occur to you that I would rather have waited for longer if that meant you could actually have time for us?” Your rage is dangerous and all-consuming, centering you within the bitterness of the isolation that Tooru had forced upon you.

Silence. And then,

“Y/n…” The way Tooru says your name nearly breaks your resolve. “Please, just wait a little longer. I’ll figure something out, I can train more so I can come back in less than a year. I’m just asking you to be patient.” No, no, no. What he’s offering is worse. You want him to make more space for your relationship, not less. In his quest to hasten his return, he’d turned to a method that consumed the time you occupied in his day. Slowly but surely, the space you’d taken up was sacrificed, leaving you with nothing but those five minutes on the train ride to work.

“That’s not what I want!” You shout. Why is his solution to make things worse? 

“Then what do you want?” He screams back, his thinly veiled irritation blooming into confused anger. “You’re lonely, so I’m trying my fucking best to go back to you as soon as possible. “Why…” he pauses, as if he’ll regret his words, before plowing on, “can’t you just accept that?” 

Suddenly, all the air is knocked out of your lungs with a whoosh. You barely have time to realize you’d stood up in the midst of your argument before you’re sagging against your bed frame, wilting until you’re sitting on the floor. 

You’ve given up, because Tooru’s stubbornness has manifested itself as an irremovable wedge between the two of you. Blinded by his belief that all you desire and yearn for is his physical presence, he can’t even begin to see that all you want is to be given a semblance of space within his life. To have a few hours of his voice, rather than the fleeting promise of reuniting sooner. To accompany him, rather than wait for him at the end of his journey. He is unwilling to bear witness to the different kind of loneliness you suffer; unwilling to peer into the parallel, yet utterly different, dimension of suffering that branches from his own longing for you.

“Tooru…” I’m being selfish, “This isn’t working. Just let us go,” whatever we are now, before it gets worse. You’re not sure if he can hear the shaky inhale of your lungs as you try to steady your voice. 

“I can’t,” he sobs. “Why can’t you see I’m doing this for you?”

Because you can only see me as the finish line, not as someone who runs beside you. Because somehow, you can only worry about the me you see in the future, not the person who is speaking to you now. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice still wavering despite your best efforts.

‘No, please, y/n—”

One last reassurance. “Thank you for everything.” I love you.

“Y/n wait, please, don’t do this.” His pleas are tearing you apart. “I can take a break, fly back—”

You refuse to be the reason he halts his momentum. “Goodbye, Tooru.” A broken whisper. 

Equal and opposite, two stars crash into each other violently. Flickering in and out, they vie for the chance to exist as they clash against each other, emitting white sparks.

A press of a red button. 

Both of them are gone.

[kettlequills]

C3: a wife to remember

god i love this fic so much. a03

A hag had many resources at her disposal, not at the least, her fellow sisters of feather, and Moira had a problem. She did not know the Dragonborn, and Moira did not much like not knowing things, especially when it pertained to the fruits of her bargains. The Dragonborn had not seemed adverse to Moira on the basis of being a hag alone, but accepting talons and feathers was quite different from permitting her to actively work her magics. There was too much that Moira did not know.

Moira planned to speak to someone who did.

Moira hauled her smoking cauldron into the garden patch, hissing at the weight and thinking longingly of the corded muscle that had braided the Dragonborn’s tanned brown arms, how easy it would be for them to move a cauldron almost as large as Moira was. She idly plucked a few of her own feathers and added them to the steaming brew until the liquid was thick and purple.

Her arms screamed when she took up the stirrer and laboriously fought it through the viscous liquid. Prickles of sweat broke out on her brow, and she leant her full bird-boned weight into the motion, adding an extra push with feather-fluttering hops. This cursed potion would save her days of pointless travel, but it exacted its price here, she thought irritably. Still, Moira had made it enough times before, if not for many years, that it did not take longer than a few hours before she was dipping salvaged bottles with peeling wine-labels into the mixture.

The bottles appeared largely spontaneously, washing up in the banks of the river not far from Moira’s house from Blood-Made-Pleasure’s daedric revels upstream, within the soft fold of Oblivion. Moira hunted along the banks come the morning for mortals, hollow-souled and blown from the Myriad Realms like scrunched daisies, and the trash from endless parties – human viscera, empty wine-bottles that stung the nose with haunting fragrant scents, fake cocks of shattered glass, snapped dremora horns. Sometimes, the blood-sports of the Prince of Plots bleeding over from the nexus of their shrine not far from the snow-city of Nord kings made their way to Moira’s stream, too. The river ran red for days to her mage-eye, and Moira would be weeding femurs and teeth out of her garden patch for even longer. But since Moira’s pact with Sanguine, his realm was closer, and Moira had more empty bottles than she could ever use.

Greatest power wrapped around your finger, for a single night of revelry.

She uncorked one such with her teeth and swigged from the potion as she labelled the others in spidery daedric letters that would make little sense to one foreign to haglore. When her gums began to prickle with chill, Moira kicked over her cauldron and let the dregs of the potion water her deathbell flowers. She left it there, staring hollowly out at the damp trees, and went to her roost. The potion took hold of the daedra inside her heart and dragged, and Moira’s spirit pierced the skin of Oblivion and rose on flapping raven-wings.

Witchmist Grove shimmered with ghostlike mists when she flew above it, the magic of Oblivion searing the trees tall and gloomy with the prescient tendrils of Moira’s magic soaked into the ground. The roost of a hag, visible as a thorny spot nestled like a canker around the soil. The dragon-cairn over the ridge glowed dully with trapped soul energy.

Not for the first time, Moira overflew her home and cawed at her cleverness. The necromantic energy of the dragon’s old servants and its own aedric glow nearly eclipsed Witchmist Grove, and the lines of power that hazed the ground was broken into the rippling hot pools, confusing the scrying-eye. Her own wards against magical predation still held strong, but she had been wise enough to choose a good spot to make it harder. The Grove would shelter its witch well while her mind attended to her business.

It was the work of a moment to envisage the heart of the plainsland, and a second later Moira was soaring through the cloudless blue skies of Whiterun – crisscrossed though they were by the fading trail of a dragon. Still, that was not too unusual in this season of change, and Moira made for the human city where the answers to her questions resided. It pulsed whitely in her mage-eye, the vast wings of the Skyforge spread over the city like a gargoyle. The eagle shrieked as Moira swept lower, and for a moment, its beady eye fixed on her. Her wings faltered in surprise. After a second that felt like an eternity, the eagle tucked its head back against its chest, satisfied, it seemed, that she posed little threat.

Moira’s talons clenched uneasily. The Skyforge was impersonal as the wind. Last time she had come here in this way, its wings had barely twitched when she’d landed on its head. That it was so riled up did not bode well.

Her disquiet mounted as she flew lower to the city – or what was left of it. Radiating outwards from the pulverised remains of the gates was a blast radius of crumbled stone that had reduced the surrounding timber houses to splinters. A wooden palisade had been erected, manned by guards whose spirits flickered dimly with fear to Moira’s mage-sight. Grief hung over Whiterun like a pall, and, pressing against the wall that separated Oblivion from the living, ghosts wandered dully through the streets, torn too abruptly from their living bodies to look for the way to Aetherius just yet. The living tree within the heart of the city was bowed double under the strength of their sorrow, its roots choked by a strange power crawling down from the heart of the prison of dragons. Familiar, daedric darkness, soft as poetry and suggestive as a whisper. The Webspinner, moving openly to claim the city, and, from the look of it, mostly unopposed. Even Hircine’s Underforge was muted. Well, good for the Webspinner. Moira had never liked Whiterun much.

Still, Moira noticed with some relief the burning-bright soul of the one Whiterun resident that she had come to see. Olava the Feeble was waiting for her, playing cards with a small child that shivered at Moira’s approach.

“Go along now,” Olava told the child, who wriggled in her chair. She had untidy brown hair and looked thin, but there were fresh crumbs on her ragged dress, and smears of jam on an empty plate on Olava’s table.

“But we weren’t done playing,” said the girl, and Olava smiled mysteriously.

“Yes, we were,” she said, and tapped the table between them. Moira saw the magic inside Olava flare, and the child gaped down at the cards in her hands. There was dirt caked under her nails.

“How did you do that?” she gasped. Moira sensed a curious flicker in the girl’s own fledgling spirit, as if she was trying to see as a witch did.

Food for a starving waif, and a light-show of no substance? A more obvious hook had never been planted. Moira cared not for Olava’s interest in a ragged child, but surely it would be easier to simply tell the girl whatever it was Olava wanted from her, and claim she was mad or dispose of her if she broke Olava’s cover?

“Charlatanry,” Moira commented dryly, amused at Olava’s transparent recruitment effort, “You didn’t need to touch the table at all for such a simple trick.”

“An old woman never shares all her secrets,” Olava said to them both, and then shooed the girl off. Once she had gone, perhaps a little faster than she would have if it had not been for the invisible presence of a hagraven glaring at the back of her neck, Moira fluttered down to perch on the back of the chair she had vacated. Her talons gripped the wood, but left no mark on it. She was not, after all, truly there.

“Sister,” said Olava plainly, “What can an old woman do for you?”

“Do you not need to maintain your quaint cover?” Moira asked, electing to preen herself. She tugged an errant feather back into alignment while Olava chuckled.

“Not at all.” Olava’s eyes were crinkled up at the edges and her smile was kindly, as if she really were simply nothing more than an old grandmother. Convincing, were it not for the aura of twisted power that radiated her from her like a dark sun and the way that her eyes were holes to the Void in her skull. “My neighbours think nothing of an old woman talking to herself.”

“As you wish.” Moira spread her wings and eyed them critically, as if it were more important than the task that had brought her here. “I propose a bargain of knowledge. I need to learn hand language.”

What better way to learn the ways of her new … spouse… than to prise them from the Dragonborn herself?

Olava hummed, pleased. “You have come to the right place, then. Which sign language is it you need to know?”

Moira ruffled her feathers. “How should I know?”

“Ai,” sighed Olava, “There is more than one. It would help if I knew who you need it to speak with.”

Flaring her wings, Moira shrieked her harsh raven’s cry. It echoed jealously, ear-splittingly loud. Under the eclipsing shadow of her wings, her true shape flickered and burned like coals. She would not share this knowledge. The Dragonborn was vulnerable, for now, ripe for the uncovering, and Moira would permit no other witch’s claws to steal in on her prize. Bad enough that she shared with Sanguine’s hook, that her own hold was as tenuous as the Dragonborn’s word.

Olava leant back in her seat to watch and rose a thin white eyebrow. Her face, for all it was wrought and wrecked by the passage of time, hid a mind no less canny.

“I can get you the knowledge of all major forms of hand-sign from here to Black Marsh, but it’ll cost you,” Olava relented. “I’ll have to call in a few favours.”

Moira accepted this irritably, and Olava eyed her, as if curious to see how far she would take this whim.

“I want you to … deliver something, for me.”

“Knowledge for knowledge is traditional,” Moira cawed, “I’m not your errand girl.”

“No,” said Olava, calmly, but Moira could see the tension wound in the leylines of her magic, her future-seeing eyes that glowed with the deepness of the Void, “But good luck finding another sister to help you. Did you say it was urgent?”

She hadn’t, but Moira was not patient, and Olava knew it. Besides, Olava’s demeanour was – reluctantly – intriguing. A witch’s errand was no small thing, particularly if she wanted a hag’s help to achieve it.

“Not that urgent,” Moira snapped regardless, because she did not want Olava to think that she did not see what she was doing by pricking Moira’s curiosity. “Out with it, then.”

“I need you to take an item to a particular person,” Olava said, “and ensure that it does not… leave her possession.”

Moira cawed a laugh. “A curse object, sister? Why, I’d almost do it for free. But why not see to it yourself?”

Olava’s hands smoothed deliberately over the table. She began to gather the cards and answered Moira’s question to their dog-eared and scribbled faces. “It cannot be me directly. The target knows me too well, and the spell must work.”

Moira paused. Olava’s carefully level voice roused her suspicion, and as she watched Olava stack the cards and slide them precisely into a bag woven of river-reeds, she grasped that Olava was not dissembling. She was worried. Moira did not lack confidence in her magical strength, but nor was she a fool. She had no desire to get mixed up in something that was going to require too much of her time.

“You have seen something that you hope to avoid,” Moira prompted.

“Yes,” Olava admitted, freely. “Nothing that concerns you, sister. A few fraying strings will soon be cut, and I have a … vested interest.”

Moira stared hard at Olava, who returned her gaze steadily. She was being sincere, Moira could tell that immediately from the glow and pulse of her magicka, and even more, Olava was letting her see without a single attempt to hide herself from Moira’s mage-sight. Whatever it was, it was important to her, perhaps important enough to ask a hag to do a courier’s job, if only to be sure it was done.

“Where is this target?”

“Falkreath,” said Olava and Moira squawked indignantly.

“It is far from my roost,” she complained, but Olava only shrugged.

“You’re the one who asked for something,” she said, and Moira conceded with a whistling hiss through her beak.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see your token delivered.”

“Thank you,” said Olava. She smiled, a genuine one, smaller and slyer than her elderly façade. “I will send you a … friend, on the night of the new moon. He will have what you need.”

Three days. Moira shifted her claws on the chair, then took off without ceremony. She beat her wings quickly to rise over Whiterun, and took the precaution to soar some ways away from the wandering eyes of the powers that wrestled beneath the city. It was only once Moira wheeled freely over the stripped bones of a dead dragon, soul-claimed, that she tucked her wings and followed the thread tethering her to her body, and home.

---

Of course, it was not three days. It was two, and Olava’s friend came yowling with his ear in the firm grip of the Dragonborn.

“You’re early,” Moira said sourly, and the Dragonborn’s mouth tensed.

They wore no helmet today, and their greying brown hair had been roughly knotted at the nape of their neck. It was greasy, already damp from the moist air of the Grove. The rude knot exposed the gruesome fullness of their facial scarring, which twisted as they scowled at the terrified Khajiit whose tunic they held. Still broad, still strong, but there was a bandage wrapped around their bicep, several days old if Moira was any judge, and somewhat dirty and stained. The Khajiit in their grasp was a young ginger tom, his yellow eyes slitted with fear.

“Let him go,” Moira chided the Dragonborn, “Have you no manners?”

Moira did not recognise the boy, but she guessed that he had been sent when he offered her with trembling paws a bag marked with the crest of the Nords of Whiterun, a curling ram’s head.

“For you,” the Khajiit whispered. The Dragonborn’s lips thinned unsubtly, and they stalked off to lean against a tree, their back to the Khajiit but their head cocked, as if they were listening.

The boy’s tail lashed. “This one was not trying to sneak, he swears! He was told to bring a message, to the old woman in the grove by the dragon burial, that is all!”

“I am old, and within the grove,” Moira said, flatly, annoyed that she had not seen him coming, and had time to muster her illusions of being a harmless – if unnerving – old woman who lived alone. She had not sensed the Khajiit at all around the brilliance of the Dragonborn’s signature when they entered Witchmist Grove. “Give it to me.”

The Khajiit hesitated, but when Moira flashed her claws he tripped over himself in his rush to thrust the sack at her. It fell at her feet with a muted rattle. The Khajiit withered under Moira’s poisonous glare.

“Well?” she demanded, and the poor boy’s ears twitched. He bolted, and Moira rolled her eyes. “Let him go,” she told the Dragonborn, whose hunter’s eyes had tracked his flight, “and come in.”

But Moira did not move from her position on the top step as the Dragonborn pushed off the tree and approached her with slow, steady steps, their armour – wrapped for silence, again, in the shredded remains of what appeared to be Nordic burial shrouds – reflecting back the whiteness of the magelight Moira had tethered in the mouths of her staked goat heads. They removed their gauntlet carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, they stooped to pick up the sack and hand it to her.

Feeling as if she were moving thrice as slowly as normal, Moira took it, and her feathers fluttered involuntarily when their fingertips – rough and callused, but hot as fire – brushed her skin. Before the Dragonborn could pull away Moira tightened her grip until the tips of her sharp claws pressed into the back of the Dragonborn’s hand. Scarred, even here, with the nicks and cuts of a lifelong soldier.

The Dragonborn watched her. Those dark dragon eyes were steady as granite, and when Moira stared into them she had the odd sense of falling inwards. It was as if she peered into the implacable gaze of a creature so impossibly huge and dense that it warped the world towards it, as inexorable as a bird struck from the sky must meet the stony ground. She wondered how the Dragonborn would look beneath her potion-enhanced mage sight. She wondered how the Dragonborn saw her.

Moira had the height advantage on them from the top step, but the weight of their gaze was so immense that she felt small, like a darting bird before the maw of a dragon. She remembered challenging the Dragonborn to consummate their engagement the second time they had come to Witchmist Grove. Almost involuntarily, she pictured being pinned beneath that suffocating presence, those dark eyes, that searing heat – the enormity of them like a serpent big enough to touch nose to tail around the entirety of Tamriel coiling itself into one short human body that had to tilt their head up to look Moira in the eyes.

Moira was a hagraven, no fragile thing, her body knitted with ancient magics and raven-feathers, and she had birthed horrors on her altar for little reason other than curiosity. But she was also a bird-hearted once-woman, and the strange, arrhythmic pounding in her chest that could not decide what it felt at the warmth of the Dragonborn’s skin on hers disconcerted her.

With an impatient snort, Moira released the Dragonborn, but not before one last, pointed flex of her claws. The Dragonborn did not flinch at the tiny teardrops of blood that welled up from the scratches, just as they had not reacted to the poison tea, and when Moira turned and stormed into her house, she felt the shaking of the steps as the Dragonborn followed her.

As before, Moira filled the kettle and set it to boil, after checking the sack and tucking it away for later in a cabinet. She was curious to see if the Dragonborn would make the same mistake twice. They did not choose to sit down this time, but leant uncertainly against the wall, arms folded uncomfortably across their chest. Moira was expecting the airlessness of the shack this time and took a moment over the smoke of the fire to soothe herself.

A clinking distracted her, and she whipped her head around in time to catch the Dragonborn leaning back like a child caught going for the cookie jar, hand froze in the act of placing something shiny on the table.

“What’s that?” Moira demanded, and the Dragonborn’s grim mouth moved oddly, as if they were trying to smile.

They gestured sweepingly at Moira, and Moira eyed them suspiciously as she seized this latest offering. It was a bottle, a large one, filled to the brim with glittering dust that shifted and shimmered when she tipped it to and fro, like it was trying to escape the directness of her gaze. The aura that seeped off it reeked of death even with the cap sealed with what looked like leather and home-made twine.

“Blood-drinker dust,” Moira identified. Useful in potions, very useful. Her claws clacked when she tapped the bottle, not wanting to admit that she had nearly run out of her own supply. And she had never had so much as this. It was a handsome gift, and practical, as well. A hag had little use for frippery, after all, even if the Dragonborn’s last gift was currently hidden safely under Moira’s bed and warded with her strongest spells. “You hunted all of these yourself?”

The Dragonborn’s scarred face split, and all of their teeth gleamed. They nodded.

“Is that how you hurt your arm?” Moira asked before she registered what she was going to say, and hissed at herself.

It did not help that the Dragonborn seemed equally surprised at her question, and by the way their eyes flickered to the wound on their arm and back, she imagined they were wondering why she was bothered – or perhaps, had forgotten the wound was there at all. After a brief hesitation, the Dragonborn shook their head.

Moira cursed herself to the Void and back. “How then?” she snapped, aware of the brittle anger in her voice. She wanted to know now. Her curiosity had been piqued, and more than that, there was a strange, restless annoyance Moira ascribed to a healer’s knowledge, impatient with the mysterious wound under its dirty bandage.

The Dragonborn’s shoulders rounded, and their movements as they fumbled for their journal seemed if anything oddly shy. They scribbled for a moment, and then avoided her eye when they presented the page.

“Wolf pack surprised me,” they had written.

“You slay dragons, and hunt vampires, but not wolves,” Moira said. “Did you at least clean it?”

The Dragonborn nodded, and then cleared their throat. They were still looking away, and after a moment, Moira recognised that the fire’s warmth on their cheek was not solely responsible for the redness that had bloomed there.

“Well,” Moira heard herself say irascibly, “Wash your bandages, then.”

Scrubbing the back of their neck with their hand, the Dragonborn nodded. The motion reminded her of their skin touching hers, and Moira busied herself with the kettle, indiscreetly bolstering the fire with magic. The heat enveloped the hut, steaming away the perpetual dampness, and Moira heard the Dragonborn sigh with pleasure behind her. It was nearly noiseless, but not quite, and Moira was hard-pressed to tell whether the shiver that went through her was from some miniature earthquake or the base of her spine, which had elected to, for some reason only daedra knew, play host to half a dozen guttering candles.

“So,” Moira said eventually, “What do they call you?”

Silence, not the scratch of charcoal, and Moira glanced over her shoulder to see the Dragonborn’s confused expression.

“Your name?”

With a metallic creak, the Dragonborn’s arms around their chest tightened, and a muscle in their cheek jumped. They shrugged flatly, and then with a weariness that Moira could almost sense bent their head to write.

“I don’t know the name I was born with,” they showed her, “The dragons call me – “

More of the claw-mark letters of the dragon language, and Moira pursed her lips.

“You know I can’t read this,” she said. The Dragonborn’s mouth crooked helplessly, but Moira’s eye was drawn to the smudges of charcoal on their fingers, exposed, because they hadn’t put their gauntlet back on.

“It comes from inside,” they scribbled, and then illustratively clasped their bare hand over their breastplate. A smear of charcoal darkened the fraying edge of one of the ripped up shrouds.

They shifted, and the shadow of their warhammer blotted the firelight over the page. Moira’s claws flexed, and she wondered, briefly, precisely when the fool bird in her brain had forgotten to watch the Dragonborn’s weapon hovering ominously over their shoulder.

“I could tell you my name, but you’ll have to come outside to hear it,” they wrote. Wariness in them then, and wasn’t that an interesting response to their own offer.

Moira weighed her options. Outside would give the Dragonborn more room to swing, but it also gave Moira better manoeuvrability to escape. It was a gamble, but Moira knew herself. She was a fast shifter, and a faster flier.

“Fine,” she said, and the Dragonborn jerked their chin and led the way outside.

They were not content with Moira’s garden, but crunched their way up the garden path and out the gate without a backwards glance. Their stride was aggressive and quick, a beat short of a march, and Moira got three steps after them on her talons and then gave up and took to her wings instead. The Dragonborn glanced up and with narrowed eyes searched among the flapping cloud of black-winged birds that rose like a fanfare at their intrusion into their domain. Moira circled above them, making no move to announce herself, and with an uneasy twitch the Dragonborn continued.

They had a hunter’s instinct, and as they walked a strange, circuitous route out of Witchmist Grove, Moira realised that they were following and walking on top of the Khajiit’s tracks. She wondered at it as she swept along overhead, doubling back every so often to flit down among the trees and feel the heavy leaves weep their burden of rain onto her glossy feathers.

Did the Dragonborn hope to find the boy, or simply to obliterate his tracks with their heavy boots? To stop Moira from following him, or to ensure he did manage to find his way out of the labyrinthine corridors of twining pine and hanging ivy, the nightshade groves and lurking brambles? The enchanted mist worked well to entrap and ensnare visitors, bringing them to the heart of the Grove into Moira’s clutches. Most had some trouble finding their way out without her blessing. Perhaps the Dragonborn had an abundance of caution, to walk only where it was demonstrably safe to step, in a hag’s home.

Moira appreciated it. Some of the moss she cultivated was rather difficult to grow, and she kept it away from the illusory paths for a reason.

The Dragonborn stopped only when they had reached the boundary of Witchmist Grove, where the copse of trees broke into the steaming hot-pools. The sandy-seared ground rose in jagged humps towards Bonestrewn Crest, where the sleeping dragonbones waited like a scar on the horizon. Squat rocks clumped around the meandering dirt path, and heat shimmered lazily, like Sanguine’s ruby red eye. Tensely, they waited for Moira.

Her damp feathers billowed steam in cross-currents and curls as she backwinged towards the ground, already changing. The Dragonborn did not look away, but Moira saw them blink rapidly as the illusions fell away and it seemed as if there had never been a bird there at all, only a hag, feathered and clawed, perched atop a rock that still, technically, was within the boundary of her grove.

The Dragonborn inclined their head, then purposefully, they planted their feet and turned their back on her. Facing out over the steamy barrenness of Eastmarch, their fist clenched nervously, as if they were second-guessing their decision.

Before Moira could demand an explanation, or taunt them to fulfilling their offer, the Dragonborn spoke.

At first, it was noise. Just noise, like the sound of lightning so deep it rumbled in the bones. A flash of awareness like seeing that stark-white fork in the black sky, and then understanding that what she was experiencing was noise, horribly loud noise, like every drum in the world beating at once, every rock falling, every heart stopping. And then it was power – power like every spell in the world backfiring at once immense and throbbing, power like Moira’s first flight, like the buffeting of the wind under her feathers.

In the ringing aftermath, Moira opened stinging eyes – when had she closed them? – and took in a world unutterably changed. She thought that the Grove had reacted to her presence by thickening the mist, and realised with a strange feeling like falling into the Dragonborn’s eyes that no, the grey smoke in the air was neither smoke nor mist, but dust. Dust, all that was left of all the rocks in the Dragonborn’s path, the furrowed brow of the hill that led up to Bonestrewn Crest. Instead, there was a perfectly carved bowl, wide and smooth as any stone-carved arena. It was perfectly done, steady as if the Dragonborn had simply scooped a section of the world away with a giant spoon. Except for the claw-like, shimmering markings that were chiselled in the wall, markings that matched the Dragonborn’s name in their journal.

It was only then that Moira’s ears made sense of the sounds, and the Dragonborn’s name clicked into her mind like a fact she had always known, but had not realised she had forgotten.

“Laataazin,” Moira gasped, and the Dragonborn – Laataazin – nodded slowly.

Greatest power wrapped around your finger. Oh. Oh. Oh. And to think – all this time, Moira had been angry for his trickery, when this was the prize!

Moira’s feathers quivered, then her shoulders, and then all at once she was laughing. It was a rusty, inelegant sound, more raven-shriek than human, and when the Dragonborn heard it they startled. After a moment, as Moira continued to laugh at the immensity of the gift that Sanguine had given her, slowly, tentatively, Laataazin started to smile back.

It was small, and sweet, and looked like they were unused to it as it was to their face. But it brightened their eyes and took years from their face, and Moira recognised for the first time the winsome, laughing-loud but shy creature that had come calling to her gate in a night of revelry, and offered a ring paid in blood for a hagraven’s hand in marriage.

[jalapeno-princess]

According To Him

CEO Mark X Reader

Genre: THE FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF I HAVE EVER WRITTEN (with some mentions of sex) (God how do I write about things I have never and probably will never experience I am so sad)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Being in such a high position at one of the biggest tech companies in the country on top of attending college full time can be a lot to handle. You’ve never thought highly of yourself and there were days that you felt like giving up because the workload was too hard. You also were extremely insecure over every single thing about yourself. However, there is one person who makes you feel like the most beautiful, hard working and deserving person in the entire world--the CEO of the company you work at and the man of your dreams, Mark Tuan. 

A/N: (GUESS WHOSE BACK, BACK AGAIN IN LESS THAN A WEEK) IT’S ME WITH ANOTHER STORY but this time it’s adorable, endearing, full of love and laughter and everything I wish was going on in my life but no, I’m seconds away from a mental breakdown every single day. This is based off of Ariana Grande’s new song “POV” and honestly as soon as i heard the song I knew I had to write an imagine based on it it’s sooooo good I wish someone made me feel that way dude why can’t I have a boyfriend like Mark in this story (Or just Mark in general) Please enjoy! (And cry with me)

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20/20, babe Made of glass, the way you see through me You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothin' from you How you touch my soul from the outside Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Oh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

“If we want to build stronger relationships with our hundreds of clients in order to get them to prolong their contracts with us, I suggest that we increase the amount of stocks that we invest in to each of their companies and find more sponsors to help get the attention of the public—maybe we could start putting ads on television or on the radio?” 

If there was anything you hated about your job, it was public speaking. For someone who graduated with her master’s degree in communications with double minors in criminal justice and journalism, one would think you were great when having to speak to a large group of people—but no. Your entire body along with your voice was shaking profusely and you felt as if you were about to throw up. If it wasn’t for the devastatingly handsome man whose been sneaking cheeky winks and a few grins in your direction here and there in order to calm your racing heart, then you would have blew the entire thing. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea y/n. A lot of people listen to the radio nowadays and television can get the attention of those who don’t drive or use cars as transportation. What does everyone else think?” 

If Mark wasn’t there, you were sure your heart would have jumped out of your chest. He actually wasn’t supposed to be there; he had a couple of meetings he had scheduled months beforehand, but when he found out that the members of the board were having a meeting and you were expected to be involved in it while presenting your ideas on how the company you were currently working for could expand throughout the United States and maybe even outside of the country, he cancelled every single meeting with the intention of giving you moral support. 

No matter how much you tried to reject his offer, not wanting to get in the way of his other responsibilities—you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely happy that he was there. His presence was undoubtedly calming; no matter wherever the two of you were, whether it was a board meeting, a company dinner or more relaxing and romantic places like the beach or on vacation in Europe, Mark could always bring you serenity. 

You looked around hesitantly in attempts to prevent Mark from seeing the blush he caused rise upon your cheeks from gazing at you and because you were genuinely curious about what your colleagues had to say about your brainstorm. When you saw a hand raise—particularly by a specific someone you weren’t all too fond of in your workplace, you wanted to let out a disgusted groan, but you refused to stoop to her level nor did you want any of your coworkers thinking you were rude. 

“Don’t get me wrong, that is a decent idea—but I know there are other things we can do that would better benefit the company without having to waste money on unnecessary ad sales. With all due respect sir, I don’t think it’s fair for you to show favoritism towards y/n just because she’s your girlfriend.” 

If you weren’t surrounded by fifteen other people, you were sure you would have leaped across of the table and socked her in the face. There were at least 1,000 people employed at the company you were working at and although you haven’t met every single person, you genuinely liked all the employees you did get the chance to get introduced to. However, there was only one person in particular that you honestly could do without and she just so happened to feel the need to speak up against you because she loved making you look stupid—especially in front of Mark. 

From the day you met her, Megan never seemed to care about you even if you were nothing but nice and friendly to her. You didn’t care though—you were there to work, not to worry about someone who dislikes you. But you didn’t do anything wrong for her to treat you as if you were scum of the earth. Every time you would walk past her desk, she would glare at you and during meetings like these that unfortunately she had to attend, she would always plot against you. 

You overheard a conversation between two colleagues in the bathroom one day about how Megan felt as though Mark might have taken a liking to her and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Your boyfriend had no clue about the way she treated you so rudely; you didn’t like starting unnecessary drama, but you were sure he caught on to her hostility—she wasn’t very vague about it. 

As the days went on though, you only grew more and more irritated with her and it was getting harder for you to bite back your tongue and prevent yourself from saying how you truly felt about her. It didn’t matter that your boyfriend just so happened to be the CEO of the tech company you’ve been working at for almost three years now; if you were to physically attack someone or instigate a fist fight, there was nothing he could do if she were to press charges—well other than bail you out—but that wouldn’t look too good for him as one of the youngest and most successful CEOs in the country. 

Your boyfriend Mark just so happened to take over his father’s company right after the elder man decided to retire just a year after you began working there. You were an intern at the company for a couple of months before Mark’s dad offered you a permanent job; stating that you were one of the best interns he’s ever had—that you were extremely responsible, hard working, dedicated to your craft, passionate about your education and just an all around kind of person. 

The Tuan family’s company was a very fast paced working environment. Nine hours would pass by faster than you could even comprehend only because you were constantly doing something. You’d be lying if you said your life didn’t get stressful every now and then—managing both college and a full-time job wasn’t the easiest thing to do; especially since you were a double major. But you did your best to stay on top of school and work. You were introduced to Mark one day by his father when he told you that he wanted the two of you to work together in order to build a healthy work relationship seeing as how he wanted you to be his son’s go to person. 

Mr.Tuan trusted you the most out of every single person working at his company; so it was only natural for him to want you to show his son the same support that you’ve shown him. 

Mark was nothing short of a gentleman when you first met him—he never used his position or the fact that he was the heir to the company to get what he wanted or to intimidate anyone of the employees in anyway. In fact, sometimes you’d forget that his family owned the company and that he was supposed to take over his dad’s position seeing as how he blended in so well with everyone else. He allowed you to show him the ropes; even if his father was the CEO and this company has been in his family for over four generations, he himself has never really been involved in what went on at the company. 

His parents wanted him to enjoy his life and do whatever it was that he wanted to do before having him take on such an important and tiresome role. Mark was such an amazing listener and he seemed to be very eager to learn. He complimented you on how dedicated and how hard working you were and he was very grateful that his dad had someone working for him who cared for the success of their company as much as he did. 

There was a point where you spent almost every minute that you were at work with Mark and you honestly weren’t complaining. You loved his presence and enjoyed how happy he made you. Although he wasn’t a man of many words, his actions spoke for him. He’d open every single door for you, pulled out your chairs, carried the things you would need for meetings, held your bag as you paid for coffee—hell, he even started to take over every bill that you had whether it was for food, drinks or just your necessities. 

At first, you assumed that he was only being nice as a way to no verbally thank you for helping him out—but with the way he would look at you with a certain glint and sparkle in his eyes, and the way he would try and touch you every now and then, whether it was bringing back some of your hair behind your ear, pulling you on the inside as the two of you walked on the sidewalk or playfully poking your cheek if he noticed you falling asleep from how exhausted you were, people didn’t do that to just anybody. 

It was obvious he felt comfortable around you and you knew it was a stretch to feel this way, but you were secretly hoping that he saw you as more than just a colleague. You knew you were screwed from the moment he was assigned to work under you—Mark had to be the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He had the most well-defined features; the prettiest brown eyes, a sharp and pointy nose, prominent cheek bones and the softest, heart shaped lips. 

You’d find yourself staring at his lips during meetings or when the two of you would get lunch together and you always wondered what it would be like to feel them against yours. Only after a month, your partnership with Mark grew more flirtatious. He would always playfully tease you and make jokes in attempts to make you laugh when he could tell you were stressed; he also complemented you every single day about how beautiful he thought you were and how your laugh had to be the prettiest and most contagious sound in the world. You’d observe the way he would act around the other employees to see if the way he interacted with you was just him being friendly—but he hardly ever talked to anyone else unless he had to for business purposes.

It made you feel special in a sense that maybe—just maybe Mark had developed some kind of romantic feelings for you as you quickly did with him. One night, Mark took you out to dinner as a way to thank you for all you’ve done for him so far and the night went along perfectly. Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you and you found out that you had so much in common with the older boy. Your sense of humors were the exact same and you both were very generous when it came to helping out the less fortunate. 

You didn’t think much of him offering to drop you home, you just assumed he wanted to make sure you made it in to your apartment safely. Once the two of you pulled up to your complex, he insisted on walking you to your door. You didn’t really expect anything once you were to reach the front door—you planned on thanking him for such an amazing night and for taking you home. 

To your surprise, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you in to his chest before connecting your lips together in a sweet kiss. His lips were so soft and tasted like bubblegum—he lowered his hands to your waist while licking on your bottom lip, ultimately bringing it in between his teeth. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes until Mark abruptly pulled away. Right as you were about to whine at the loss of his lips against yours, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and giggled softly. 

“I like you y/n—a lot more than I’d like to admit actually. If I’m being honest, I think it might be more than that. I’ve liked you from the minute my dad had me shadow you and if I’m being honest, I kind of hinted towards wanting to be partnered up with you because I witnessed how amazing your work ethic is and I’ve admired how intelligent and talented you are. I think my dad talks more highly about you than he does me and I can see why—you’re wonderful y/n. These last few weeks with you has been some of the best moments of my entire life. You make me so happy. I would have never thought that I would actually enjoy going to work as much as I do and it’s specifically because I want to see you. Would you—um—maybe want to be my girlfriend? I totally understand if you don’t want to and please don’t feel as if you have to reciprocate my same feelings because I’m going to be your boss or because you feel bad—“ 

You didn’t allow him to say anything else before you roughly smashed your lips back up against his. Now that you knew how it felt like to kiss him—something you’ve been dreaming about for quite some time now, you would never get enough of having his lips meld perfectly in unison with yours. 

“I like you too Mark. You don’t understand how happy I am—I’m sure you’ve caught me stealing glances at you every now and then. I would doze off sometimes and dream about what it would be like to be the lucky girl who gets to love you and be loved by you. I would love to be your girlfriend. If you don’t have to go yet, did you maybe want to uh—come inside for some coffee?” 

He beamed at you and nodded in excitement—it didn’t take a genius to know that coffee was not at all going to be involved in the nights festivities and he couldn’t care less. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t dreamt about being intimate with you and getting to see you naked and bare—writhing underneath him while begging him to do anything to soothe the fire building inside of you. It’s happened on many occasions and he isn’t embarrassed to say a lot of his wet dreams were caused by you. As soon as you both made your way inside, he pressed you up against the door and began leaving sloppy kisses on the expanse of your neck and chest while whispering sweet nothings against your jaw. 

That entire night was spent relishing in your newfound relationship in your bed, in the shower, on the counter and up against your fridge. From that night on, the two of you were inseparable—it wasn’t much of a change from your usual time spent together other than him being even more clingy and touchier now that the two of you were a couple. Plus, you got to see him on the weekends which was a bonus—even if you spent almost ten hours a day every single day with him, it was never enough. 

Both you and your boyfriend decided to keep your relationship a secret from everyone at the company to prevent people from talking negatively of you or assuming that you were only dating Mark for beneficial reasons which was far from the truth. You didn’t think it was possible for Mark to be an even more amazing boyfriend than he was a business partner, but he proved you wrong entirely. He was so shy and soft whenever it came to you. 

Although he practically hovered over your tiny frame, the older boy would follow you around like a lost puppy. He would show up to your apartment every morning and take you with him to work so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. He would also wait until you were finished with work if he just so happened to end earlier that you did in order to take you home. If Mark was anything, it was extremely observant. 

It took him less than a week to learn your coffee order, he’d purchase all kinds of things for you while he’d go grocery shopping, he would buy you bags and clothes that he thought would look amazing on you, he would write you cute little post it notes and stick it all around your desk and if you were to catch a cold or if you weren’t feeling all too well, he’d take off from work in order to help nurse you back to health—in more ways than one. You never thought you would ever be able to experience the love Mark was giving to you. 

You’ve only ever been in two actual relationships before him. Other than that, you were the type of person who enjoyed to fool around. Whenever you and your friends would go out to clubs and bars, you’d find yourself getting drunk and taking someone home whose name you’d never got around to learning. If you were being honest, you never thought you would ever be in a long term relationship before. 

Your parents divorced when you were only two years old and it seemed like most of the adults you were surrounded with just so happened to be divorced also. Love was a foreign word to you—you never believed love could exist. Everything you’ve seen in movies was fake; all these shows and books about men who would give their lives for their significant others, you thought it was complete and utter bullshit. You ended up breaking up with both your boyfriends because you were afraid of getting your heart broken. 

It wasn’t like either of them really made you feel loved or genuinely cared for in the first place, so breaking up with them didn’t hurt as much as you expected to. That all changed the minute you found yourself falling in love with Mark. Time and time again, you told yourself you would never allow yourself to make such a stupid mistake—nor did you want to give your heart, mind, spirit and just yourself entirely  away to someone who would only break your heart and leave you like it is the easiest thing do to. 

For years, you’ve put up this barrier around your heart and kept every single person out of it. However, you didn’t know how he did it—but Mark knock down your walls and made you want to fall in love with him. Even before you really got to know him and how he was as a person, you know you could trust him. You wanted to give yourself a chance at love; it’s what you deserved. You couldn’t keep running away from something so good—or someone who obviously loved you more than life itself just because you didn’t want them to hurt you. 

The way he took care of you—even if you weren’t necessarily aware of it; the way he looked at you with so much adoration and happiness, the way he would talk so highly about you to everyone he surrounded himself with made it all the more clear that you must have meant a lot to Mark and you weren’t going to let anything or anyone for that matter get in the way of experiencing what true love felt like. Not once in your relationship with Mark did you ever have to worry about getting hurt—you knew that man loved you with his entire being. He never failed to show you or tell you every single day and sometimes you had a hard time accepting that someone could love you so much in the way Mark evidently did. 

Mark Tuan had to be the best thing that has ever happened to you and you were never going to take him for granted. He was the man you knew you wanted so badly to spend the rest of your life with—there was nobody in this world that you loved or could ever love more than you did with him. He captivated your heart in ways you didn’t believe was possible. Honestly, there were times where you felt as though he deserved better. 

You didn’t think all that highly of yourself; sure you had a pretty high position at his company for someone who was only 21-years-old and you were obviously well educated, but you weren’t very sociable nor did you think you were as street smart as you were book smart. You also never considered yourself to be attractive; you’d stare at yourself in the mirror ever now and then and picked out a lot of your features that you didn’t like about yourself.  

There were days that you thought everything about you was ugly; your teeth were crooked, your eyebrows were bushy, you had chubby cheeks, you were on the more curvy side—you had thick thighs, decent sized breasts and your butt was on the bigger side, but you also had big hips and your stomach wasn’t as flat as you wish it would be. On many occasions, you found yourself growing jealous of a few of the employees at the company because a lot of them were so pretty and had petite, dainty bodies. 

No matter how many times your boyfriend would remind you on a daily basis that he thought your body was so beautiful and that he was completely obsessed with each and every curve, beauty mark and birth mark scattered along your skin, your insecurities never failed to get the best of you and you’d always tell yourself that he probably wanted someone with the body of a model. However, you would observe Mark just as much as he did with you; he never batted an eye at any other girl—even when he talked to one of your colleagues, he seemed so disinterested and it made your heart flutter. 

You wanted nothing more than to be content with the fact that your boyfriend only had eyes for you, but it was only natural for you to feel as though you weren’t good enough for him. There was an insult on the tip of your tongue; you wanted to ask her what she had in mind and hoped that it was worse than your idea so she would look like a complete dumbass, but luckily—Mark beat you to it. 

“Decent? I think you mean brilliant—and no Megan, I do not allow my personal affairs to conflict with my work ethic. I genuinely like y/n’s idea and I would support her even if we weren’t dating. Do you have any better ideas?” 

You didn’t have to confess anything out loud; Mark could read your body language like it was a picture book. He knew you better than he knew himself and even better than you knew yourself. With the way you tightened your fists and clenched your jaw, he knew you were seconds away from reaching across the table and pulling on Megan’s hair and if he was telling the truth—he was all for it. Your boyfriend knew all about your ill-relationship with the older girl—he wasn’t blind. Your mood was always quick to change from excited and bubbly to quiet and visibly annoyed whenever she came around. 

He wasn’t the kind of person to press you for information if you didn’t want to flat out tell him yourself. He did wish you would tell him though; he wanted to know everything that was bothering you or things that made you upset—if there was anything Mark loathed, it was seeing you sad. His sole purpose was to make sure you were constantly happy, healthy and living the best life possible. 

As a CEO, he couldn’t fire her for the reason that she was tormenting you; there was no evidence. But as your boyfriend, he could use his title against her and he always used that to his advantage—to protect you. You had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at the sight of her now defeated demeanor. 

“No sir.” Mark sent you a cheeky wink before clapping his hands together and getting up from his seat. 

“What does everyone else think about the radio station and television commercial ad idea?” Everyone around you nodded their heads in agreement and some even gave your boyfriend a thumbs up—you weren’t one to boast nor did you particularly find contentment in proving others wrong unless they deserved it and Megan definitely deserved the shade your boyfriend gave her. 

“Good, then it’s settled. If anyone has any better ideas—then feel free to bring it to the next meeting. But until then, we’ll go along with what y/n pitched and take it from there. I have some phone calls I have to make, so I’ll be taking my leave. Good job everyone.” Mark bowed to the entire table and quickly made his way towards the door but not before walking over to you and gently squeezing your shoulder. 

“No rush, but can you come to my office once you wrap things up here? I want to talk more about your idea.” 

You nodded in agreement even if you knew that you and your boyfriend would only briefly go over what was brought up in the meeting before doing something you both shouldn’t do in a work environment. The meeting only lasted for a couple of minutes after Mark had left—all the employees in attendance were extremely supportive of what you came up with and you couldn’t have been more thrilled and grateful with their responses. 

Right after you adjourned the meeting, you made a beeline for Mark’s office; not wanting anyone—specifically Megan to keep you from your boyfriend any longer. When you noticed her approaching, you quickened your pace and made sure she was no longer tailing you once you reached Mark’s door. You knocked gently and waited patiently for him to invite you in and as soon as he called out for you to enter, you made your way inside and gave him no time to process your movements before flopping on to his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. A soft giggle fell from his lips as he brought his hands down to your waist and held you tightly against his body. 

“You’re amazing and I love you. Thank you baby.” His laughter filled the room—going straight to your chest and making warmth rise upon your cheeks. For someone who was only three years away from turning thirty, he had the most adorable, high pitched laugh that you knew could light up any room he was in. 

“You’re the one whose amazing and I meant what I said—your idea is brilliant. Almost as brilliant as you my love. You never cease to amaze me. Did you see the look on Megan’s face when I indirectly called her out? That shit was priceless I wish I got it on camera. By the way—why didn’t you tell me about how she acts towards you earlier? I’m not stupid y/n, I know there must be some kind of animosity between the two of you and I know you’re not the cause of it. You know you can trust me with these things. What else does she do to you? Nobody treats my baby so unfairly and can expect me not to do anything about it.” 

You brought your hand up to his cheek and cupped it ever so gently before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiled softly against your lips and stole a couple more kisses before leaning back in his chair in order to get a better look at you. 

“I didn’t want to bother you with something I can handle on my own. I’m a big girl Mark and I don’t let shit like that bother me. I don’t know why she acts like this, I didn’t do anything to her—and I don’t want everyone here to think that I’m not capable of fighting my own battles and that I have to have my boyfriend use his power to fight them for me. I’m sure a lot of employees gossip to each other about our relationship—“

“Who cares what anyone says? Our relationship is nobody’s business but our own. I just—I’m sorry, hearing her try to make you seem so small—so incapable of great things pissed me the fuck off. You’re the hardest worker we have in this entire company and I’m not just saying that because you’re the love of my life. I’m saying it because I’ve watched you work your ass off for the last four years taking on overtime, flying all around the world to meet with and make business with all these important companies, staying up all night to study for exams only to come in the next morning like you weren’t exhausted at all. You are an ethereal being baby. You’re otherworldly and I just can’t stop looking at you in astonishment. I hope you know Megan and every other girl who acts that way towards you is just jealous of you and I don’t blame them. I mean, just look at you.” 

The tears were hot as they built up at the brim of your eyelids. This happened almost every single day. Mark had a habit of going in to detail about the love he had for you and how wonderful he thought you were and you were never prepared to hear his complements and sweet words. 

“I don’t know what they would be jealous about Mark. Like you said, look at me—“

“I am looking at you. I can’t seem to stop looking at you. All I ever want to do for the rest of my life is look at you and admire you for the extraordinary human being that you are. You are the most beautiful girl in the world, I’m being completely honest y/n. You are so fucking gorgeous, I can’t even form your beauty in to words. You’re honestly God’s favorite and definitely mine. I hate that you think so negatively about yourself when I think the world of you. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect person but damnit y/n, you come very close. I really don’t know what I did to deserve you—and yes, I know what you’re thinking and you can just get rid of the thought that you’re not good enough for me out of your mind completely. Y/n, you are the best thing to ever happen to me—I mean that wholeheartedly. All my life, I felt as though something was missing but I could never put my finger on it. When I met you, everything changed and it just clicked. You were my missing puzzle piece—you’ve brought so much love and light in to my life and I’m forever thankful for being blessed with you to be my person.” 

You allowed the tears to fall from your eyelids and a small sob left your throat leading Mark to laugh against your jaw while bringing you closer to his chest. He began to run his fingers through your hair and left a few gentle kisses all around your face. 

“God Mark, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I would do it again and again—I would lead and fight an entire world war if it meant getting to be the person you love in each and every single lifetime. I can’t even—I know I tell you that I love you every single day but I can’t help to feel as though it’s not enough. I wish there was more I could say or do to show you just how much I truly, deeply and irrevocably love you, how you mean the entire world to me and how I would be completely nothing without you. I wish I could see myself the way you see me—from your point of view. I want to trust and believe in myself the way you do. I wish I could love myself, the way you love me. I’m trying to learn to love myself because I know you worry about me and I don’t want you to anymore. I want to make you proud Mark—“

“You do make me proud y/n—every single day. I know you want to keep us a secret for reasons I have yet to understand—I’m sure now it has to do with people like Megan, but you shouldn’t care about what anyone thinks about you other than yourself and me. I think you’re the most astounding person I have ever met. It’s okay if you never learn to love yourself baby—I love you enough for the both of us and I will spend the rest of my life reminding you just how much of a wonderful, amazing, beautiful both on the inside and out and extremely sexy woman you are.” 

He stole a few sloppy kisses from the corner of your mouth and began grazing your cheek feather lightly.

“You don’t have to do anything more to prove your love for me, I feel it in my heart. You’re the reason it beats by the way. You keep my blood rushing and my veins pumping. I would give up anything and everything—this job, my family, my friends, hell I would even give up my PlayStation 5 for you and that says a lot baby. You’re all I could ever want and need  in my life. Now, if you want to show me some gratitude for loving you so much and for being your backbone today, maybe you could help me fix the problem in my pants that you caused as soon as I saw you leave the bathroom this morning wearing this outfit. Did I tell you how breathtakingly beautiful and devastatingly sexy you look right now? You know what was so hard for me—well, other than my painfully hardened erection, but it was seeing you in this skirt and blouse—watching you tell everyone of your plans with so much confidence and observing the way all the men in there were looking at you with desire in their eyes and not being able to walk up to you and kiss you with all my energy. I would have fucked you right there on the table if I could. But now that we’re both on lunch break—I’m all for eating you out right now. Lunch with a view sounds amazing and I’m not talking about the cityscape babe.” 

You playfully shoved him while attempting to get out of his embrace but he wasn’t having any of it and tightened his grip around your waist if it was even possible. “Mark, we can’t have sex right now, everyone is going to find out what we’re doing. You and I are not exactly the quietest people when we have sex—“ 

He gave you the most adorable pout before bringing his lips right under your ear and nibbling tenderly—trying to get a rise out of you. “Why not? We’ve made love in here many times y/n. I daydream about the multiple times I fucked in to you auto against this desk and against the window. The imprint of your breast on the glass is still in the back of my mind. Who cares if they hear? All the more better. I saw the way all the men would let their eyes linger on you a little too long. I think it’s time they are reminded that your bed is spoken for. It’ll also teach anyone in this building not to mess with you. Don’t try to talk me out of it, I know you’re a huge exhibitionist baby. There’s this one particular position that I wanted to try out if you’re okay with it. I’m going to need you to get on all fours and this blouse, as amazing as it looks on you, I want to see these pretty titties bounce for me. Get ready to sing my love—I’m going to make sure everyone on this floor knows whose the boss in more ways than one.”

I'm getting used to receiving Still getting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared Learnin' to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

I couldn't believe it Or see it for myself Know I be impatient But now I'm out here fallin', fallin' Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right I won't keep you waitin', waitin' All my baggage fadin' safely (baggage fadin') And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me, ooh (trust me) The way that you trust me, baby (trust me) 'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view, yeah

[uniqorrn]

John Murphy Imagine

Location: The Dropship

Summary: After Clarke accused Murphy of killing Wells, he was beaten up by the other camp members and almost hung by his best friend, Bellamy Blake. After this, you find yourself preparing some different medicines and treatments for his wounds. Being the camps personal doctor you are one of the only ones that knows how to heal and treat wounds. However, you had never really spoken with Murphy, and he had never spoken to you but only a handful of times. But, you can't control the attraction the two of you grow for each other.

Pairing(s): Murphy x reader

Warnings: blood, angst, violence, language, mentions hanging, fluff, kinda smutty? not really.

Words: 1,734

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"Murphy! What did you do to Wells?" Your head shot up into the direction of the sudden shout, your eyes watching as Clarke stormed out of the tent she had been in previously. Bellamy and a few others following shortly after her. She looked furious but also hurt. You furrowed your brows as you watched her, growing progressively angrier the closer she got to Murphy. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your leg beginning to bounce up and down where you sat. You didn't really know Murphy that well, as the two of you never really spoken to each other. You knew nothing of his past or what kind of person he was truly like. You only saw what he wanted everyone to see, that tough-guy persona he put on every day here at the camp. However, you were smarter than that and knew that the windows to the soul were the eyes and everyone had a past you just didn't know his yet. "What the hell are you talking about?" He spat, eyes glaring into her as she reached behind her and around to her pocket. Pulling out a very familiar knife. "We found this with two of Wells' fingers where his body was." She held up a knife, a bend at the end of it, signaling that it was his knife. "What and you think I did it?" He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You were the one who threatened to kill him!" Gasps and hushed whispered were heard from the group that had formed around Clarke and Murphy. The quiet whispers were turning into shouts of protests, each person growing angrier with Murphy. "I'm saying that you killed Wells." "Yeah, he tried to killed Jasper too!" Octavia joined in, creating several more gasps and whispers throughout the crowd. You stayed where you were; your leg began bouncing up and down anxiously. A few more words were said and sudden shouting was heard throughout the camp. Suddenly, Murphy was dragged off somewhere, people shouting and throwing their fists up into the air as they vanished somewhere in the camp. You quickly followed behind them, your heart beat speeding up the closer you got to the shouting. When you got there, your eyes widened at the sight before you. You stood there frozen to the ground, as you watched Bellamy push the creature out from underneath Murphy's feet, the noose wrapping around his neck tightly as he struggled for air. You can imagine the shock on your face when you saw what was going on. You were on the sensitive side—you didn't like things that were very violent. You didn't like fighting, blood, killing, anything related to violence wasn't your thing. Most people picked on you for it, or made comments about how you won't survive here on earth if you don't learn to fight and defend yourself. Going into the medical field was a surprise, since you didn't like to look at blood. However, your heart was stronger than your dislikes and fears. You wanted to help people feel better. You wanted to help save people's lives. That's why Abby picked you to go down to the ground. So someone could watch over the 100 that were sent to a planet they weren't even sure was livable. "Stop! I killed Wells! It wasn't him.." A small girl shouted, making her way into the small circle, bringing you out of your dazed state. You watched Clarke cut the ropes, and Murphy falling to the ground before you tired and walked away. Suddenly, feeling sick from the situation that just happened, you entered your tent, sitting yourself down on the edge of your makeshift cot. You tried to bring your breathing back to normal, placing your hands in your head to rub at your forehead in an attempt to get rid of the headache that had formed. You stayed like that for awhile, sitting on your cat as you just stared at your shoes. It was quiet and there was no one to bother you. However, that was short-lived when Clarke entered your tent. "Y/n, can we talk?" You looked up at her with tired eyes and gave her a short but stern nod. You stood up, pulling your loose jacket over your shoulder as you shifted your weight onto your right side. "To make this short, I need you to come treat Murphy's injuries before they get infected. I would do it myself, but I wouldn't know where to start." You stared at her for a good minute, wondering why someone like her---that wanted to create peace would cause such a situation to occur--. It irritated you, to say the least. "That's why I'm here isn't it?" You cocked a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just give me a few minutes to grab my things." You added turning on your heels to look through your supplies. "I'll send him in." You ignored her as you grabbed little containers of different powders and herbs, rags and bowls of water, along with any other supply you might need for treating his injuries. "I don't need someone to look at my wounds!" You rolled your eyes at his words, placing down the last container of herbs on your small makeshift table. He entered your tent, throwing back the tent flaps rather roughly. You gestured to your makeshift cot, grabbing your bowl of water and rags first. "You can sit there." Your voice was quiet and soft as you spoke like honey. He sat down with no complaints, placing his hands on his knees. You walked in front of him and grabbed his chin to tilt his head up. Your kind eyes examined the wounds on his face, studying each cut, bruise, and gash on his face. You then moved to his neck, your eyes filling with sadness at the bruised lines that formed on his neck. Your fingers reached out to them slowly touching the skin lightly with your finger tips. Murphy flinched back, sucking in a breath at the contact. You pulled your hand back, mumbling a small sorry as you reached for your wet rag. You gently wiped the blood off his face, careful not to press too hard on the bruises already forming. "Why are you helping me?" He asked as you wiped the blood off of his nose. "it's my job to help heal the injured." You rinsed the bloody rag out in the bowl of water next to you before turning back to wipe the blood from his lips. Your left hand cupped his face gently, letting your thumb rub over his slightly chapped lips as you cleaned the small cut on his bottom lip. "But, no one else would." He whispered, referring to what happened merely an hour earlier. His eyes looked down to the ground, staring at his boots as you placed the rag in the bowl. You stood up, staring at him for a moment before trading the bloody water bowl for a small container of herbs. You stood back in front of him, tilting his head back up so you could look at him. "Because, unlike most I actually care about some people.." You whispered back, rubbing a smooth paste against the cuts on his face before covering it with a bandage. After his face was patched up, you moved to his neck, you looked up to him for approval before reaching out this time. He slowly nodded, granting you permission to touch the sensitive skin there. You rubbed a different paste on his neck, gently moving your fingers along the surface so you wouldn't hurt him. "This will help the bruising heal faster." You said when you pulled back, offering him a small smile. You met his gaze, swallowing thickly as a blush rose up your neck and to your cheeks. You looked away, placing your empty medicine tray on the table next to you. Murphy continued to gaze at you as you cleaned up, wondering why you were showing such kindness, even though you didn't really know each other. He saw a kindness in your eyes that no one's ever given him before. It did something to him.. It made him feel tingly. It was crazy how a simple gaze could make him feel so different. You grabbed one last bandage to cover the small cut he had on his neck. You gently applied it, your breath fanning across his skin softly, which caused a small shiver to crawl up Murphy's spine. When you pulled back, you didn't realize how close your faces were, your foreheads were almost touching and you could feel his breath fanning against your lips. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then to your eyes. Your breathing became heavy as he pushed his lips onto yours in a soft, innocent kiss. Your lips molded together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. Your hands wrapped around his neck, playing with the hairs at the base of it. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance to your mouth, which you gladly granted. His tongue explored your mouth, wrestling with yours in a battle of dominance. When you pulled away for air, you were both gasping. You leaned your forehead against his as he placed soft pecks against your slightly swollen and bruised lips. You didn't say anything to each other and just enjoyed the silence that fell around you. You moved to sit on his lap, pushing him back onto your cot as you hovered over him, placing another sweet kiss to his lips.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

you were my crown

chapter 2

Ao3

~^~

The crowd dissipated quickly, so much so that Jens was still a foot away when Berg gave Lucas’s arm a sharp tug and almost knocked him back off his feet. Jens’s heart skipped, and he moved a little faster to catch up with them as Berg hauled Lucas out of the room. Lucas was grimacing and doing his best to hide it, clearly biting back either a wince or a snappish complaint.

“Careful,” Jens snapped, and they both paused and looked at him. He glowered at the guard, trying to be stern rather than angry. “I hope this rough behaviour is not usual for you. Even if Lucas was not now a fellow member of our Court, he’s a person. You should treat people kindly. Release him, now.”

Berg did not seem mollified or ashamed. His gaze held only mild irritation as he scrunched his brow. “Queen ordered he’s to remain with a guard.”

“Perfect.” Sander materialised next to them, having slipped back in from the hallway along with Senne. He took Lucas’s free arm in a much gentler hold. “Then I may take it from here.”

Berg scowled. “The Queen—“

“Already decided our new friend here was to have his own personal guard, and will easily agree that person should be me. So, I believe I can take it from here,” Sander repeated. His smile charmed and threatened all at once.

Lucas stared at him dubiously, but he didn’t seem quite as irritated. He shuffled his feet and shifted his weight to lean in Sander’s direction, and Jens almost smiled.

It was clear that Sander wasn’t letting it go and none of the others were going to argue with him. Berg had no choice but to release Lucas with a shrug and depart with a half-hearted bow in Jens’s direction. Some of the tension finally seemed to leech out of Lucas, and it dissipated even further when Sander dropped his hold on him. There was a hesitation, in which Lucas was left looking between them all. He seemed to blank out Jens the most and linger on Senne the longest.

The eldest boy noticed, and looked back with vague amusement and intrigue. “You’re mistaken if you think I’m angry on my brother’s behalf. I can assure you that we aren’t very close.”

Lucas considered him with furrowed brows before giving a slight shake of his head. “Family is family. You may not be particularly angry, but there is no reason for you to take my side, either.”

It shouldn’t have been strange to hear Lucas speak. Jens had just listened to him give his testimony in this same room; his voice was not a surprise. It just seemed different, up close and in a more private setting. They were close. Now Jens could not only see Lucas’s lips as they moved, but also the small mole above them. He could see the individual grains of dust and dirt in the smudge on his cheek. He could hear his voice next to him and imagine it becoming familiar.

“I think our concepts of family are a little different,” Senne said, smile going a little tight.

Lucas tilted his head, but nodded in acceptance.

Senne nodded back, then whirled on Jens with brows raised. “You are truly terrible at your job. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Jens frowned, but refrained from rolling his eyes. “Clearly the two of you need no introduction, but fine. Lucas,” he said, trying not to think too much about how this was his first time addressing the boy directly, “this is Senne de Smet, the head of my personal guard, and Sander Driesen, who is now apparently the sole member of yours.”

Sander raised his brows at him, but winked at Lucas. “You’re welcome.”

Lucas did a slow examination of him, eyes trailing him from head to toe. Jens tried not to feel put out, but Lucas had barely even glanced in his direction and he had been the one to just save Lucas’s life. Sander had taken what should have been his line.

“Your hair is white,” Lucas noted, in the same factual manner that one may mention the weather. “How did you get it like that?”

“Magic,” Sander said.

Lucas blinked, and frowned, but didn’t quite scowl. He seemed begrudgingly grateful to Sander for saving him from the manhandling, and he was still flicking his gaze over said white hair as if trying to figure out the trick. Maybe it wouldn’t be a total disaster.

“Sander is also a member of my guard and a friend,” Jens said, finally gaining Lucas’s attention. The sky-like blue eyes focusing on him with such intent again made him falter, but he gathered himself quickly. “My mother will easily allow him the position with you because she already trusts him to protect me. So if you are happy with it, there should be no problem.”

It was oddly terrifying, to be the subject of Lucas’s scrutiny. Jens was used to being the center of attention. He wasn’t comfortable with it, but it rarely made him squirm. Lucas’s gaze on him, however, sent his mind spiraling and caused a low heat in his stomach that quickly spread up into his cheeks. The weight of what he had done hit him suddenly. This boy that he did not know was now his responsibility. He had taken Lucas’s life into his hands by saving it from the hanging post. Lucas was allowed to live, but this most basic right now came with conditions, that Jens would be forced to set and uphold.

He could now understand, very clearly, why Lucas may not have been grateful.

It was confirmed when Lucas finished his examination and instantly looked away again, offering a shrug. “I don’t think it matters what I am happy with.”

“It does.”

Jens had barely opened his mouth to make the protest before Sander beat him to it. He had been looking at Jens, but he turned his attention back to Lucas before continuing to speak.

“I know you are already being forced into service, but Jens was not thinking of that when he made the suggestion. None of us are wishing to make you miserable.” Sander hesitated. “Although Her Majesty may have some reservations.”

Senne grinned and clapped Jens’s shoulder. “But clearly His Royal Highness here can match her resistance.”

Lucas did not seem entirely convinced.

Jens wasn’t sure how to persuade him, but he had to at least try to make this clear. “They are both right. I didn’t mean to imprison you, but I could not let you be killed.”

“Why?” The question was quiet—almost hesitant. The stubborn set to Lucas’s spine had never left, but his expression had softened slightly, trying to let something through.

Jens couldn’t decipher any of the faint emotions yet, but maybe he would be allowed to learn if he got this right. “Because you don’t deserve it,” Jens said simply. “Because I looked at you and felt that you were good, and I believe you can prove it to those who mistrust you easily. You just needed someone to give you the chance.”

Lucas stared. Then he said, “I was not looking for a savior.”

This time, Jens found himself smiling, and was surprised to realise it was genuine. He shrugged. “Too bad.”

|*~^~*|

Jens was staring too much.

He knew this, and yet he couldn’t quite get himself to stop. He would force himself to look away, and within seconds his gaze would be back on Lucas. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, he was just looking. There was either nothing especially interesting about Lucas, or everything about Lucas was interesting. Jens had to admit that he was leaning towards the latter.

The truth was, he had no idea what he had gotten himself into and was now desperately trying to figure it out.

It was likely a little late, with Lucas already in his chambers.

Sander was also with them, as promised, leaning against the left pillar of Jens’s bed with Jens sat on the end. Sander was alternating his attention between Jens and Lucas, but Jens had mostly zoned his presence out. Sander was familiar enough and Lucas was intriguing enough that Jens could easily decide where to focus his attention.

After a stint of awkward silence, Lucas had taken to wandering around the room. He examined everything visible, which was mostly just the furniture. Jens actually had few belongings, and they were all tucked away in some cupboard, drawer, alcove, or another. Lucas hovered his hands over a few objects, like the few intricate pieces of jewellery lying around and the clothes hung on the door of the wardrobe. He only hovered, however, as if imagining the touch but not quite allowing himself to go through with it. It made it hard for Jens to believe he was a thief, and a small voice in his head suggested to him that this may be the point.

“You get used to how expensive and fancy everything is after a while,” Sander told Lucas. “Well, sort of.”

Lucas brushed his hand over the mahogany table. “When you are able to have your own expensive and fancy things, you mean? I don’t think we can relate.”

This was enough to make Sander frown at him. “I’ve been here over a year and still haven’t embellished myself with anything fancy.”

“Your hair,” Lucas reminded him.

“Yes, well.” Sander paused. “If you want to be picky.”

Lucas drew his hand away from the wood and folded his arms, looking up at Sander. “I don’t, but I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do.”

Sander pursed his lips and looked at Jens.

Jens stood, somewhat hastily, and cleared his throat. Lucas was still wearing the same blank, unimpressed expression, and it was rather nerve-wracking. “You can relax, for now. I’ll know better what the plan is when I speak to my mother.”

“A slow and silent death, I’m sure,” Lucas muttered.

“No harm will come to you,” Jens insisted. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Lucas simply stared at him again. His arms crossed a little tighter around himself, pressing his thin tunic to his body in defense or from a chill. Jens glanced to make sure the window wasn’t open, but it was bolted tight. The fire had not been lit yet, but that would become one of Lucas’s jobs now, so Jens wasn’t quite willing to bring it up.

“Why?” Lucas asked.

Jens blinked. “Why what?”

“Why do you promise such a thing? How can you?”

Ah. Jens thought the answer should have been fairly simple. “I’m the Prince.”

He didn’t use a haughty or degrading tone, and it still seemed to sour Lucas further. His lips twisted back into that frown and he turned his gaze to glare into the space between Jens and Sander. The silence was broken only by the sound of Sander’s foot tapping against the stone floor, a rapid motion that meant he was silently as anxious as Jens. Sander didn’t do well with confrontation or silence.

“And I’m your—still unofficial—guard. Jens can assure you that no one will harm you because I won’t let them,” Sander said, with an oddly cheerful tone.

Lucas turned his unimpressed gaze on him. “You are my guard to ensure I won’t do harm.”

“I thought we weren’t being picky,” Sander muttered. Then, clearer, “You don’t strike me as a threat. And anyway, whatever the case, I’m meant to watch over you, am I not? So the death wish is going to have to wait.”

“I don’t have a death wish. I just neither wish to be here.”

Jens plopped back down onto the edge of his bed and sighed.

There were sudden, heavy raps on his door before he could think of anything else to say, and now he wanted to sigh in relief. Someone was likely here to tell him his mother was waiting to speak with him, and he’d get a brief reprieve from Lucas’s large presence while getting some of his questions answered. He wasn’t looking forward to a possible argument with the Queen, but he could use a breather.

Only it wasn’t a servant come to fetch him, but Moyo’s voice that called from outside. “Jens, you in there? We’re tired of waiting for you.”

Jens winced. He had completely forgotten his friends were still here and expecting him to rejoin them. He’d gotten sidetracked, and Sander was stuck with him. They likely had been in the library since Jens left and had heard nothing of the meeting.

There were a few mutters and more bangs before the door swung open, revealing a sheepish Robbe with Moyo and Aaron behind him. “Sorry, they knew you wouldn’t get mad at me,” Robbe said, flushed, and Jens sighed again.

Sander pushed away from Jens’s bed to coo at him, already grinning before Robbe was even fully in the room. Sander reached him and slid an arm around his shoulders to drag him in. “No one can ever be mad at you,” Sander agreed, pinching Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe batted him away, but leaned into his side with another apologetic smile towards Jens. Then he finally noticed Lucas.

“Uh,” Moyo said. “Who’s this?”

Lucas looked startled at the presence of the others, and downright skittish at being addressed directly. He shifted back and forth on his feet, mouth opening and closing a few times before he looked at Jens.

Jens nodded at him. “This is Lucas van der Heijden. He’s just earned himself the position of my manservant.”

“Uh,” Aaron said. “Why?”

Robbe was the only one to smile brightly and approach Lucas. “Oh! Hi.” He stuck out his hand to the other boy. “I’m Robbe.”

Lucas stared at him for a moment before carefully taking his hand. “I—yes. I know who you are.”

Robbe flushed again, but shook Lucas’s hand kindly before stepping back to Sander’s side. “Jens has never had a manservant,” he noted. He looked at Jens curiously, and Jens wondered what he saw. Robbe had always known him better than he knew himself—perhaps he would be able to make sense of Jens’s mad decision and how he should feel about it now. Jens would have to talk to him in private, and then he might sort his thoughts out.

“It’s quite a long story,” Jens said.

Sander pulled a face at him. “Well, the whole event hardly lasted ten minutes.”

“Weren’t you at a trial?” Robbe asked, confused. “Or when did you meet Lucas?”

Jens looked at Lucas, who stared blankly back at him. Jens couldn’t tell if this meant Lucas didn’t care what Jens told them or if he simply thought he had no say in the matter. It wasn’t quite the permission Jens was looking for, so he waited.

Lucas’s brow furrowed, and then he answered Robbe on his own. “At the trial. It appears washing clothes and carting food is my punishment.”

They all blinked at him before turning to stare at Jens. Sander appeared at once exasperated and pleased, raising his brows at Jens as if to say ‘See how easy it is?’.

“That seems a little harsh.” Moyo eventually broke the silence, laughing slightly. “What did you do?”

“My mother would rather have sentenced him to death,” Jens said sharply, and Moyo’s mouth snapped shut. “His crimes were not worthy of that, so I had to think on the spot.”

Aaron’s eyes were wide. “So you—you saved him, or what?”

Lucas huffed, but Jens nodded in both agreement and satisfaction. It was done now, whether Lucas liked it or not, and Jens was not about to take back his word and let Lucas get himself into further trouble. If anything, Lucas appeared sullen and reserved, not a troublemaker.

His mother probably would not notice the difference.

There was another stretch of silence, and then Robbe clasped his hands together and rocked on his heels. “Well, I trust Jens’s judgment. If he wishes to befriend you, I hope to do the same.”

“I am to be a servant,” Lucas said evenly. “Not a friend.”

For some reason, Jens felt a pang at this. It was becoming clear Lucas did not appreciate him in any way, and was not interested in any involvement with him at all. The fact that he now had no choice in the matter likely only darkened his feelings on it. He was back to looking anywhere but at Jens, and Robbe seemed to notice, flitting his gaze back and forth between them in concern. Sander noticed this and tugged Robbe back to his side, ruffling his hair fondly.

“Well, I think that makes you the most interesting person in here,” Moyo told Lucas, “and if our Prince is too prissy to be friends with you, I’ll do it.”

“Uhm.” Lucas looked taken aback by the offer, then ready to flee. Thankfully, Moyo and Aaron were still standing in the doorway and Lucas seemed to be attempting to keep his distance. It was likely he wouldn’t attempt to run and muscle past them. For everyone’s sake, Jens really hoped he wouldn’t.

Moyo raised a brow at him. “Or not.”

“Nice job,” Aaron mumbled, elbowing Moyo in the gut and causing him to double over slightly. “You scared him off within five minutes.”

“No,” Lucas said hastily, surprising all of them. He seemed to falter again under the combined attention. “I just mean—I just don’t know you.”

Robbe offered him another gentle smile. “Well, you will get to. I hope we won’t bother you too much.”

Lucas appeared to soften slightly, becoming at ease as one tended to do when under Robbe’s kind gaze. Jens would definitely have to speak to him. It was likely Robbe would be the best help to all of them, not just Jens alone. He would be able to keep Sander in line, at the very least, if the knight happened to build up to Lucas levels of irritated.

“Of course we won’t, you’ll learn to love us.” Moyo grinned and went to punch Lucas’s arm amicably, only for Lucas to flinch away. Moyo instantly dropped his hand and blinked, concern and apology flickering over his expression.

Lucas looked embarrassed. “Sorry. The guards here—well, they have not been the most gentle or welcoming, the past few days.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jens demanded, taking a step forward.

Lucas’s expression smoothed over again, and he regarded Jens. It would have seemed like interest, if only Lucas didn’t appear more disinterested in him than everyone else already. “No,” he said. “They just know they are stronger than me and liked reminding me of it, I think.”

“It’s not like that with us,” Moyo assured him firmly. “Friendly roughhousing is the most you’ll get, but we don’t do it to hurt. We’re not violent.”

Lucas, of course, eyed Sander and the sword clipped to his hip.

“I’m not a knight because I’m interested in fighting,” Sander informed him. Jens was surprised to find him calm rather than defensive, but he didn’t seem to dislike Lucas, and Robbe had a gentle hand on his wrist. “We’re not trained to cause harm, only to defend and protect. I have never once fought anyone outside of training or friendly tournaments. Some of the others, they aren’t good examples, and if you wish to give me their names, I’ll gladly speak to them for you.”

It did not help Lucas’s wariness, Jens thought, to end with such a comment and a shark-like smile. Jens himself winced internally at the thought of such a ‘conversation’ with Sander. It was true that Sander wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if the fly was doing it’s best to provoke him, but he could be fiercely—and therefore, terrifyingly—protective.

But after another short moment of consideration, Lucas seemed content with what he found. His lips even quirked at the corners as he gave Sander a curt nod and lightly responded, “I don’t think any of them introduced themselves, but thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

Sander nodded back, pleased.

Jens wished he felt the same, but there was still a prick of something in his chest. It would be good, for Lucas to get along with these people, Jens thought, and especially Sander, who he would apparently be spending the most time with. He just couldn’t help but be upset that Lucas didn’t seem to find it as easy with him. It wasn’t that Jens expected the boy to be awed, or even entirely grateful, but in the short time they had known each other there had only been an icy, distant tension. Lucas was unwilling to be grateful, or to even let Jens see him.

It did not bode well for how close they were now supposed to become. Jens knew, of course, that servants weren’t friends and he wasn’t necessarily expected to get along with Lucas, but they would be in close quarters and spending a lot of time together. There would have to be trust between them.

Jens was beginning to wonder how he would ever manage that.

“Sorry, I know it disrupts your plans,” he told Moyo and Aaron. “Whatever they were.”

Moyo shrugged. “You’re doing your thing. But we’re still staying the night, right?” He nudged Aaron and waited for the other to nod before allowing a grin. “So, we’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“Wonderful,” Jens muttered under his breath.

Lucas frowned at him, back with that considering gaze, having obviously overheard. That meant the other boys probably had, as well, but none of them mentioned it.

Robbe cleared his throat. “So have you already been shown around, Lucas?”

“No.” Lucas hesitated. “I don’t think we’re sure of what is allowed or expected of me, yet.”

“No, but I should probably go find out,” Jens sighed.

Robbe considered him and then shared a glance with the other boys. “We can go, then, and meet with you after?”

Jens nodded gratefully, glad that neither Moyo or Aaron grumbled too much either. They said their goodbyes and departed again, and Lucas’s shoulders relaxed slowly. Robbe made to follow them, but paused and turned back when he noticed Sander didn’t move with him.

“You’re not joining us?” Robbe questioned, curious.

“No, I have to stay.” Sander gestured between Lucas and Jens with disappointment flickering over his expression. “Sorry.”

Robbe’s face fell, but the smile returned quickly as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll just see you later, too.” He turned his smile on Jens, turned it wide and reassuring, and glanced at Sander once more before he left.

Sander looked after him mournfully, slumping back against the bed again and crossing his arms over his chest. Jens was only realising how much of a sacrifice his friend had offered to make, signing up to be Lucas’s personal shadow. It would be unfair to ask him to give up so much freedom—Jens would have to make his mother understand this, too, which might not be the easiest feat. He would have to try, though, or Robbe would end up mad at him and that was the last thing he needed. He might have been Robbe’s best friend, but so was Sander. It didn’t matter that Jens had known Robbe his whole life and Sander only a little over a year; Jens wasn’t willing to challenge that relationship.

He had a feeling he would lose.

“I expected someone to come get me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was purposefully making us wait just to be spiteful,” Jens sighed, glancing over Lucas. “What you said, about the other guards—you’re sure you’re alright?”

Lucas nodded, though glanced down at himself, at the dust and dirt staining his clothes and skin. He rubbed at a mark on the hem of his shirt and flushed, but simply shrugged. “Nothing a jug of water can’t fix.”

“When I get back, I’ll take you to Milan and we can get you new clothes.”

Lucas looked up and narrowed his eyes at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. At least, again, nothing that water can’t fix. I don’t need anything from you.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Jens trailed off, blushing. He cleared his throat and tried again, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not what I was trying to say. I just meant, for now, and as an apology, we could get you something. Because I guess you don’t want to take your pick of my wardrobe.”

Sander snorted. Lucas merely slid his gaze down the length of Jens and back up before shaking his head.

“You’ll like Milan,” Sander said reassuringly. “Everyone seems to. But while Jens buggers off, how about I give you that tour?”

Jens felt an immediate protest build up in him. He had hoped to give Lucas a tour himself. There was no real reason for him to protest, however. He didn’t need to be there for anything Sander couldn’t explain on his own. The knight was well familiarised with the castle by now and more than capable of showing Lucas.

Still, Lucas looked to Jens first as if awaiting confirmation.

“That would save time later,” Jens allowed. “And as long as you don’t try to make a break for it I can’t see how it would be a problem.”

Sander’s sharp grin returned, but it seemed almost cheerful. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Jens nodded, and still hesitated. Eventually, though, he gave a nod and strode through them towards the door. “Hopefully this won’t take long. I’ll meet you both back here. Don’t take him near my mother’s chambers,” he reminded Sander, almost as an afterthought. “That could be another potential problem.”

Sander gave him a mock bow and waved him away. Jens resisted the urge to roll his eyes and left a last look towards Lucas, who had already distracted himself and didn’t meet his gaze. Jens took a steadying breath and pulled the door open, trying to figure out where his mother would be at this stage. He was only a few steps down the hall when the door opened again behind him.

“I—Your Highness,” Lucas called, hesitant, and Jens froze and turned around. Lucas had come after him and held out a hand as if to reach for him, but now it simply floated in the air between them. Lucas hastily let it drop back to his side and straightened his shoulders before looking carefully at Jens. “I just want to know if I will be able to return home.”

Jens frowned, confused. “Of course. Why would you not be?”

Lucas swallowed, shaking his head. “I just assumed your moth—Her Majesty, wanted me to remain under watch. But I would like to return even just to explain. My mother…”

“Of course you will be allowed to go home,” Jens cut him off, softly. “Regardless of the reason. You should not have to ask. I will make my mother see sense, do not worry.”

Finally, Lucas offered him a smile. It was strained, tight and disbelieving, but it still seemed to soften his face. Jens’s heart still beat at his ribs at the unexpected sight of it, as well as the soft cadence of Lucas’s voice when he murmured, “Thank you.”

His home, and his mother, Jens realised. They were what held importance to Lucas, what held weight. It was all he had cared about during the trial and all he cared about still. He had not thanked Jens for saving his life, but he thanked him for the mere promise of a return home.

Jens understood that Lucas clearly did not wish to be here, and hoped he had not sentenced the boy to something that felt worse than death.

|*~^~*|

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was not the first time Jens had been in this position. He was in his mother’s study, feeling small even as he stood looking down at her. Usually, there were papers and books scattered around, but now everything was neatly tucked away into the waist-high bookshelf or in a careful pile on the dark wooden table. His mother sat at the other side of it with her usual regal air, her brown waves of hair pinned neatly into place and hands overlapping on the table. She was overall rather calm, but there was a chill demand to her tone that made Jens duck his head.

“I know that I shouldn’t have spoken out against you, and I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I am. But I couldn’t just let you kill him. It would have been wrong.”

“What makes you so sure?” she demanded.

Jens looked up at her, steeling his own expression to match her iron one. “What makes you so sure he is guilty? He said he didn’t steal it.”

“Of course a criminal is going to plead innocence.”

“You had no proof. Maybe if you’d had a witness, but this isn’t enough. I don’t know what you saw in there, but I believe him,” Jens insisted.

His mother considered him closely, eyes racking over him and looking for any crack in his armour, any flinch or falter. Jens was more than familiar with the tactic, but he wasn’t usually the one under such scrutiny. It was quite like the way she’d looked at Lucas, in fact; she appeared displeased at what she saw.

Finally, she curled her hands together and tilted her head. “How do you know you haven’t just given him exactly what he wants?”

“A second chance?”

“An easy kill.”

Jens just managed to bite back a scoff, but a smile threatened closely. “Lucas is not going to kill anyone.”

“He had a sword,” she reminded him. “I did not realise you were already on a first name basis.”

“How else should I refer to him?” Jens raised a brow, then immediately let it drop again to squint against the light sharpening in the window.

She sighed, then further broke her composed facade by raising a hand to her head. She’d glanced down as well, closing her eyes tiredly as she rubbed her fingers against her temple. “Why do you feel so strongly about this?”

“Why do you?” Jens retorted. As expected, she didn’t respond. He let his arms fall from where they were tucked behind his back and reached his hand out to cover her’s. “There is something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? You don’t give a sentence like that out as if it’s nothing. You’re fair, just. Even if he had stolen the sword, what harm would he have been if we’d just taken it back? It’s not enough of a crime to warrant his death.”

She spoke lowly. “That is not your decision to make.”

“No. But I asked you not to, and you agreed. It would look worse for you to go back on your word, now. And if you did,” he added lightly, “it would not be with my support.”

After a moment, she sighed again. She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. It may as well have been his own eyes staring back at him, as familiar and similar as they were, only hers were wiser and wrinkled. They were also dark, as if the hour or so since the trial had utterly exhausted her. She turned her hand over in his to clasp them together, then squeezed. “Of course I won’t go back on my word. Certainly not against you.”

Jens let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and allowed himself to smile. She seemed to soften in the face of it, and he squeezed her hand back.

“Mathias wasn’t pleased with you,” she said tiredly.

Jens blinked. At first, it took him a moment to figure out why the man he rarely spoke to would have any reason to be upset with him. He only ever seemed irate when Ellis bothered to get herself into ‘unnecessary trouble’, and he had to actually do something as Head Guard. “Did someone bother you, after the trial? I didn’t mean to undermine you.”

“And you did not.” She dismissed the notion with a flick of her hand. “At least, I hope no one would think such a thing. Mathias is upset on his son’s behalf.”

Realisation hit quickly. “I’d think he should be upset with his son, for losing his own damn sword and not alerting us to the issue immediately. Anyway,” Jens could not help but add, “Viktor is not his. They’ve never been close.”

“It was stolen, not lost.”

Jens drew his hand away from hers to scrub it over his face. This was not what he wanted and exactly what he expected. “We can’t keep going in circles,” he said. “One of us has made a mistake, and we may never find out who, but a decision has already been made now. We can’t keep going back and forth. We need to go forward.”

She looked at him silently for another moment, then shook her head. “I suppose we do. I’ll start by designating him a guard—“

“You don’t have to,” Jens interrupted.

She narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed.

“Not because I think he doesn’t need one, but because he already has one. Sander volunteered himself.”

“Sander?” Ellis took a minute to consider this, brows drawn together.

This was the main thing Jens desperately wanted to work. He had thought it wouldn’t be that hard. “Sander’s already there to look out for me, and Lucas seems to cooperate with him. Sticking him with one of your surly crowd will not be of any benefit to him. And you know Sander. You know he is trustworthy.”

She hummed. “I adore Sander. I am not sure I want him in harm’s way.”

“He’s a knight,” Jens reminded her. Then he couldn’t help adding, “And Lucas is no threat.”

“Yes, yes, so you’ve said,” she rolled her eyes. “For your sake, I hope you’re right. Yours and Sander’s, I suppose.”

Jens grinned. It wasn’t entirely a blessing, but it was permission. It was a start. He sobered up quickly, however, as he cleared his throat. “In regards to that...what do you intend him to do? If Lucas is to be my manservant, Sander can’t possibly be with him all the time.” He resisted the urge to squirm. “Feels rather inappropriate. Besides, it is unfair to ask such a thing of anyone, never mind Sander.”

“The boy should not be alone with you, especially in such close or intimate contact,” she insisted.

“But that’s the point of a manservant, and that’s what you agreed to. Lotte and Lies have their own maids, and I think I’ve scared most of them off by now.”

His mother blew out a breath and mumbled something inaudible, raising that hand to her head again. “Sander will move to a room closer to yours. He will accompany you both to any events or activities inside or outside of this castle. But he has his own jobs, so Lucas will carry out his chores on his own. At least this way he will have no one to cover up any mistakes he makes.”

Jens winced slightly at that, at the suggestion in her challenging expression. But he was blindly trusting Lucas already; he had to show confidence in him now. He gave a curt nod.

“I will discuss this with them both myself, of course,” she added. “And I will make it clear to Lucas what his duties are, as well as the consequences for his failures.”

“He won’t fail.” Jens wouldn’t let him. Lucas was appearing stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Jens would just have to work a little to get through to him.

Ellis simply hummed again. Then she waved her hand and looked down at the table, pulling a nearby bundle of papers closer to her. “Then I believe that’s all I require of you until I can speak to them directly.”

Jens’s heart pinched at the blatant dismissal, but he gave a nod before remembering. “There is one more thing I wanted to ask.”

She glanced up at him in an indication to continue.

“I know that not all of the servants choose residency in the castle,” he said slowly. The way she was eyeing him made him nervous, as if she knew where this was going and was already prepared to deny him. He steeled himself. It was the only thing Lucas had asked of him. “I also know this is a rather special circumstance, and I don’t know what your plans were for Lucas, but I think he would like to stay at home.”

She blinked at him. “You think.”

“Yes. Or, well, I know. At the very least, he will have to go home to fetch his belongings,” Jens tried.

It didn’t seem to be working. In fact, she seemed more unimpressed by the second. “He should still be in the cells, not wandering where he pleases. No. Someone else can go get his things.”

“Or someone could take him,” Jens suggested. He was aware that he sounded rather desperate, and swallowed at his mother’s questioning look. He just knew that if he failed at this, it would be even harder to reach Lucas. The boy still wouldn’t trust him, and he certainly wouldn’t like him. But if Jens could do this, then maybe it would break away some of that barrier. Lucas had seemed so genuinely hopeful, even while prepared for disappointment. Jens didn’t want to see him accept it. He wanted to see that smile again. “I could take him.”

This did not earn him the points he was looking for. “You,” she said, incredulous.

“And Sander,” Jens said sheepishly, and she scoffed. “Think about it,” he insisted. “He won’t hurt anyone in his own home, it’ll be a good way to prove that this can work. We’ll just end up turning him against us if you keep treating him so badly.”

She narrowed her eyes at this, and Jens realised his overstep but made no attempt to take the words back. It might have been harsh, but it was the truth. If they didn’t work with Lucas themselves, how did she expect to even be deserving of his loyalty?

“You will take him home,” she said finally. “And he will stay there tonight. If he behaves and starts off his duties properly tomorrow, then the arrangement can stay in place. If he does not show up he will be hunted down.”

Jens winced again, even as relief flowed through him. He gave her a nod. “That’s fair.”

She nodded back, then raised a brow as she gripped at her papers. “Now, is that all?”

He grinned and agreed, bowing swiftly before letting himself out.

|*~^~*|

He disliked the thought of going back to his room and waiting around for Lucas to return with Sander. It hadn’t taken him long to speak to his mother, certainly not as long as it would take for Sander to show Lucas around. He was tempted to seek them out, join them, but he had no idea where they were and with his luck, he’d miss them at every turn. He didn’t fancy wandering around on his own only to have to return to his room and find them waiting for him.

Instead, he chanced going to Robbe’s room and was pleased to find his friend alone there.

“Where are the others?” he asked as Robbe let him in.

Robbe shrugged. “Aaron wanted to see Amber, and Moyo wanted to laugh at him.”

“Ah.” Jens grinned. He had to admit, it was always entertaining, watching Aaron flounder and fuss around the girl, but Robbe was too kind to find it quite as funny as Jens and Moyo did. It still usually brought a slight smile to his face, however, that was certainly not present now as Robbe flopped back on his bed, shirt slipping up to show a strip of pale skin above his waistband before he tugged it back down, leaving his hand there to fidget with the hem. His expression was bleak as he gazed past Jens, and Jens furrowed his brow. “You didn’t feel like going with them?” he questioned lightly.

Robbe shook his head, shrugging again. An awkward feat, considering he was laying down. He scrubbed a hand over his face as Jens undid the buttons of his jacket. “Maybe if Sander had come with us, but.” He stopped and made another wriggly, dismissive gesture.

Understanding sunk in. Jens glanced at him as he fought with the buckle around his waist, then gave it his full attention when it refused to budge. He cursed under his breath when it just pulled tighter, and then Robbe was sitting up and gently batting his hands away. He deftly undid the belt with light fingers and flicked Jens’s arm before retreating.

“Thanks,” Jens murmured, smiling gratefully as he finally shrugged the jacket off and was once again left in his tunic.

“Still can’t dress yourself, I see,” Robbe quipped.

Jens settled himself on the bed as well and swatted at him. “Technically, this is undressing.”

“Difference?”

“One leaves you with more clothes, the other with less.”

“Both you need help with.”

“How about you try wearing all this crap for a day?” Jens grumbled, tucking an arm behind his head and trying to get comfortable while Robbe laughed at him.

Robbe cleared his throat and looked over at him. “I suppose this is why you need a manservant.”

“Yeah.” Jens pursed his lips, taking in Robbe’s innocently curious gaze. “My lovely mother seems to think I’ve ordered my own death.”

Robbe’s lips twitched. “I can’t imagine what he could’ve done to get such opposite responses from the two of you.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course,” Robbe said, and Jens smiled. Robbe rolled his eyes. “Just because he didn’t seem that bad. Quiet and a little guarded, maybe, but not bad. But if the Queen is asking me who I think is right—“

Jens waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, save yourself, I know.”

Robbe laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners as he patted Jens’s hand comfortingly. He seemed a little more like himself, falling easily into the banter and teasing, but after the short lapse of silence that followed he turned solemn again.

“I wanted to talk to you about it,” Jens admitted, and Robbe’s gaze sharpened with interest. “The whole thing was almost accidental. I laughed when she sentenced him to death.”

“You what?” Robbe blinked.

Jens hummed. “It was a disaster, honestly. I didn’t have a choice then, I didn’t have time to think. I just said the first things that came to mind. Now...well, you’ve met him. He doesn’t want to be here at all, and he seems to hate the sight of me.”

“He probably just doesn’t know what to make of all this, either,” Robbe said, voice soft. “It’s not everyday you get a personal favour from the Prince, or just a new job in general. Combine the two and it’s likely a little much.”

“Maybe he really will kill me.”

Robbe huffed, shoving at him as he shook his head. “What did your mother say? When you went back to see her. That’s where you came from, right?”

Jens nodded. “She just agreed that she couldn’t go back on her word now, and Lucas asked me to find out if he could go home. She agreed, as long as Sander and I accompany him.”

Robbe’s gaze shuttered again, then he smiled and said, “That’s good.”

“She wanted a guard assigned to Lucas, the whole time, but I convinced her that wasn’t practical. It helps, that she has a soft spot for Sander. He’ll only have to accompany us to events, which he often does with me anyway.”

At this, Robbe finally brightened, even as his shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh. That’s good.”

Jens hummed, no longer able to hide his smile. “I thought you wouldn’t have been pleased with us, otherwise.”

“I just,” Robbe hesitated, reaching up to tug at his curls. “I worried it would take up a lot of time, I guess. I didn’t know what the deal was.”

“Sander never turns you down.”

“No,” Robbe agreed, though he again seemed a little hesitant.

Jens smiled. “Well, now you don’t have to worry. He’s not going anywhere. Well, actually he’s moving room, but only to be closer to me, so that should actually make it easier for you.”

Robbe seemed a little surprised by that, but accepted it with a nod. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Yes, what about you?”

Jens’s brow furrowed.

“I imagine it’ll take up a lot of time for you,” Robbe elaborated.

“Oh,” Jens said, softening. “It won’t be that different, really. He’s just taking on the jobs already done by other servants. There’s nothing new.”

Robbe seemed unimpressed. “He’s new.”

Jens supposed he couldn’t argue with that. He couldn’t lie to Robbe, either. Lucas would be a new fixture in his life, and one that would likely take a lot of time. He would be with Jens more than anyone else, most likely, and wasn’t that a strange thought. But that was the point. He would get to know Lucas and prove he’d made the right choice.

It was another monumental task to add to an already long list. He understood why Robbe would be unsure.

“I’m not going anywhere. Lucas won’t change anything, not with us and not with Sander, okay?”

“He will, though. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing,” Robbe said hastily, pulling at his curls again. “I’m just saying. I’m not sure you know what you’ve taken on. A criminal manservant is different to the usual new recruits.”

Jens winced. “I have no idea what I’ve taken on, I agree. That’s mainly why I wanted to talk to you. I have no idea what I should do.” He looked over at his friend, and Robbe’s eyes were familiar and kind as he gazed back. “I’ll need you more, not less. You’re better at the people thing than me, you know that.”

Robbe considered him. “Well, that’s definitely true.”

Jens reached up to flick his forehead.

“Don’t.” Robbe laughed, doing his best to block him. “You said it, not me.”

Jens huffed, tugging at Robbe’s curls himself this time until the idiot smiled.

“But of course, I’m here for whatever you need. I always am,” Robbe said.

The following tug was more fond, but Robbe still protested and patted his hair away from Jens’s fingers. Jens smiled slightly and drew his hand away. “Thank you.”

Robbe simply nodded, seeming more at ease as he donned his usual sweet smile. He tilted his head against Jens’s shoulder briefly, and then there was a knock on the door.

Before either of them could move to open it, it swung inwards on its own and revealed Sander. His eyes flicked between the two of them sprawled across the bed, and he raised his brows as Lucas hovered behind him. He seemed satisfied when Robbe beamed at him, and gestured while looking back at Lucas. “And this is my favourite room, though it seems a bit haunted at the moment.” He waved half-heartedly in Jens’s direction and Jens flipped him off.

Meanwhile, Robbe flushed, but pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed as Sander came further into the room with Lucas following hesitantly. “Why exactly is my room your favourite, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sander stared at him as if he’d asked why the sky was blue. “You’re in it.”

Robbe’s flush darkened, but he still rolled his eyes. Jens barely resisted the urge to roll his own at Robbe. He had never learned how to take a compliment, or adjusted to the easy way Sander doled them out, even after a year of being the main focus of such blatant affection.

Yeah, Sander probably won out in the title of Robbe’s best friend by now. He was more deserving, at the very least.

Jens tried not to be hurt by the fact and returned his attention to Lucas, who was already looking back at him. A few strands of his hair looked damp, and the smudges were gone from his arms and face even though his dusty clothes remained. Sander must have taken him to wash up before properly beginning their tour. Jens smiled at the difference, at the extra height Lucas now seemed to hold when he was receiving the kind of treatment he deserved.

“How did it go?” Sander asked, back to looking between the two of them now that he was at Robbe’s side.

“She wants to speak to you both to clarify things herself,” Jens admitted, leaving Lucas stiffening again as Sander sighed. “But I’ve sorted it out the best I can for both of you. And the sooner we get it over with, the sooner Sander and I can take you home.”

He waited, staring at Lucas the whole while he spoke to gauge his reaction. He was rewarded with the boy’s eyes widening, then narrowing as if in disbelief. Jens offered him a nod and a slight smile, hoping this would finally earn him some points, or at the very least, a little trust.

After a second, Lucas smiled back.

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Eighteen

Link to Masterpost

Based on the pacing of events, it looks like my previous guess still holds: two more chapters and an epilogue remain.

Enjoy!

~*~*~

The next day, Rowan looked on with amusement as Aelin met with Lorcan. She had already spoken with Aedion, of course, and her cousin had spent an exceedingly long time venting his frustrations regarding the other demi-Fae.

He hadn’t mentioned his father at all, but Rowan had known it would be a bad idea to press him on the subject, especially in front of Aelin. He would talk about it when he was ready.

As Lorcan snarled wordlessly, Rowan turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. “See, it’s funny,” Aelin was saying, one finger touching her chin in a dramatic parody of thought. “If I recall correctly, the throne of Doranelle is matrilineal, is it not? Which means you can’t possibly be in charge here, and therefore would be unfit to cast judgment on me.”

Rowan bit back a laugh in favor of adopting an expression that he hoped looked suitably stern. Lorcan, on the other hand, had no such problems. “As you murdered our previous queen, you don’t get a say in how you are judged,” he snarled.

“The creature I destroyed was neither Fae nor your true queen.” Aelin was carefully inspecting the nails on her left hand. “You should be thanking me, really.”

It was exactly the wrong thing to say to Lorcan, though Aelin couldn’t have possibly known that. Perhaps it was time to intercede. “Aelin…”

Lorcan’s frosty glare became fixed on him instead. “Yes, Whitethorn, by all means get your bitch-queen in line.”

Rowan growled at his former commander, but Aelin only laughed. “Oh, I like that. But it’s missing something. Something… fiery.” As she said it she called one of her flames into existence, and it danced over her fingertips before she allowed it to vanish in a puff of smoke.

Most men would have missed the cold calculation in her gaze when she looked at Lorcan once more, a look borrowed straight from her persona as Celaena—or perhaps this was a part of herself she had been allowed and even encouraged to express as Celaena. Rowan recognized it, however, with a tightening in the pit of his stomach and a surge of arousal’s warmth.

Shit, it had been a bad idea to bed Aelin so soon before they would have to be reasonable and professional adults. He should have known, should have remembered that the usual Fae possessiveness immediately after taking a new lover was so much worse when it was your mate. What was usually three or so days of irritation at the presence of almost anyone else became absolutely unbearable when the union meant more.

Nothing had prepared him for anything about Aelin, however, so he supposed this should be no different.

When he finally remembered himself, Lorcan was staring at the hand that had commanded those flames with a blend of fear and anger. “You fire-breathing bitch,” he hissed.

Aelin smirked. “There it is. Fire-breathing bitch-queen. Rowan, we’ll have to write that down somewhere, add it to my list of titles or something.”

“I’m glad you’re so amused,” Rowan grumbled.

Rowan was not at all amused. It was bad enough that Lorcan was anywhere near Aelin right now. The fact that he was antagonizing her only made it worse. If this continued for much longer… well. He would just have to hope that it didn’t.

“Someone has to make up for you two. Is it a Fae thing, to be so utterly joyless? Or is it just the two of you?” She smiled at him, and the rest of the room faded away as he remembered the way she had smiled that very morning, the way she had laughed into the pillows and then moaned as he’d entered her from behind—

Shit. He had to focus, or they would never get out of this room and Lorcan would probably kill both of them before blinding himself. He wasn’t exactly known for forgiveness, or for restraint.

Thankfully, Aelin didn’t seem to require a response, for she was already speaking again. “Now. As the direct descendant of Mab, I’d like to officially renounce any claim I may have to your throne. But I can only do that in the presence of the descendant of Mora, who would rightfully inherit Maeve’s crown. She didn’t wear a crown, though, did she?”

“Why should I allow you to meet with her?” Lorcan asked, seething with barely-restrained anger. “You waltzed in here and murdered Maeve with little proof and no hesitation.”

“You weren’t actually present for that, were you?” she asked. “So you wouldn’t actually know what I did or did not do or say. Which means you’re speculating, which means you’re letting your own emotions get in the way of the truth.”

Rowan winced. Aelin truly had a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing; Lorcan’s devotion to his dark queen had been as fierce and passionate as any love, though it had been as dark and twisted as Maeve herself. Maeve, in turn, had taken delight in spurning him at every turn, but that hadn’t stopped Lorcan from wishing things had been different, or from taking on more and more daring and dubious tasks in some twisted attempt to prove himself to her.

As he’d expected, Lorcan snarled at that, baring his canines to her. What he had not expected, but should have, was the strength of his own reaction.

One of his blades found itself embedded in the table between them as a frosty wind began to blow through the room. “This ends now,” he growled as Lorcan threw up a shield made of his own dark power.

“Och, you’ll have to forgive Rowan for being such an overbearing buzzard,” Aelin said to Lorcan, though Rowan didn’t miss her affectionate gaze in his own direction. “Although I hear all Fae males are like that, so perhaps you’d understand better than I do.”

Lorcan, meanwhile, had turned his glare in Rowan’s direction. “Tell me, were you warming her bed while you were still sworn to Maeve, or did you take her before the dust had settled in that throne room?”

Before Rowan could do anything more than snarl in reply, a cocoon of fire melted through Lorcan’s shield. “I’ll have to ask you to leave Rowan out of this,” Aelin said, all amusement gone from her voice. “I’d say this is between you and me, but it truly isn’t. It’s between me and Mora’s heir, whoever that may be. I’ll give you a day to produce her.”

In the blink of an eye, the fire disappeared, and Aelin stalked out of the room. Rowan followed without a second glance at his former commander.

~*~*~

It turned out that Mora’s heir was one of Rowan’s many distant cousins, and Aelin immediately sent him out to find her. Not only did it give her the opportunity to talk to Aedion in relative peace, but it also meant that they would be able to return to Terrasen that much faster.

Aelin sighed. For all that Doranelle was a beautiful city, she missed the mountains and forests that she called home. It seemed Aedion did as well, for he had been all too eager to begin packing what little he had brought with him. She suspected there was more to it than simple longing to see his mate again, but if there was something that had gone wrong Aedion wasn’t talking about it.

Perhaps she would be able to wrangle the truth out of him on the journey home.

As she watched a white-tailed hawk and a golden eagle circle over the palace together she adjusted the leather of her jerkin, wishing once more that she had thought to bring some finer clothes. She would make do with what she had, of course, but meeting the next Queen of Doranelle in riding leathers seemed… incorrect, somehow. She could only hope Rowan’s cousin would understand.

Gods, and that was a whole other thing to be nervous about. This was the first of Rowan’s family she was to meet, and it was all because she had killed the previous queen. What a terrible way to introduce herself to her mate’s family. There was nothing to be done for it, though, except to hope that she would believe Aelin’s story with the evidence she could give.

As if he could sense that she needed the encouragement—and he probably could, given their bond—the hawk swooped down from the skies, landing as delicately as he could on her shoulder. She smiled as he began to run his beak through her carefully braided hair. “Och, you. Don’t you pull any of that out,” she muttered.

Rowan only clicked his beak and took off from her shoulder, shifting midair to land by her side. As their eyes met, beneath the lust that quickly rose to the surface she could see he was trying to reassure her. You’re worrying too much. You’ve made it this far.

Aelin took a deep breath, doing her best to calm her nerves. As she did, the eagle still circling above them landed across the courtyard from where she and Rowan stood, shifting into the form of a Fae female.

It was easy to tell from just a passing glance that she and Rowan were related, the long silver hair and pine-green eyes proclaiming their shared lineage. She stood about as tall as Aelin did, and while her smile was pleasant her eyes were calculating, taking Aelin’s measure just as Aelin was doing to her. She wore a simple pale dress, which Aelin noted with relief given her own lack of clothing options, and twin braids framed her face but the remainder of her long silvery hair was allowed to flow loosely down her back.

Rowan stepped forward then, linking his fingers with Aelin’s to pull her along as well. “Aelin, this is Sellene Whitethorn, my cousin and heir of Mora. Sellene, this is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir of Mab, crown princess of Terrasen… and my mate.” His tone turned wondering at the end, like he still couldn’t quite believe it, and at the sound she could’ve sworn her heart skipped a beat.

Sellene smiled at her then, gesturing toward a path. “Why don’t you walk with me? It would seem that we have much to discuss, given what Rowan has told me.”

“We do indeed. I must say I wish we had met under better circumstances.”

Sellene’s eyes glimmered with barely-concealed amusement. “From what I hear, you freed us all from a most despicable creature. I would think there could be no better circumstance.”

Aelin turned to stare at Rowan, who was looking innocently at a nearby tree. “So Rowan has already informed you of why he was sent to find you, then.”

“Of course he did,” she replied. “I was hardly going to leave my home with no explanation.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Truthfully, I’m grateful you’re willing to speak with me.”

“Rowan tells me I am to be the Fae Queen of the East now. I would like to begin by obtaining the truth of our previous queen’s death for myself, that I may fairly judge the situation.” Sellene approached her then, offering an arm which Aelin took. “There is a lovely pavilion near here, overlooking one of the many rivers that form our city. We can speak there without interruption.”

“That sounds wonderful. I haven’t had much opportunity to take in the views for which your city is famous during my stay,” she admitted.

“Of course you haven’t. It seems my cousin has been keeping you busy,” Sellene grinned, eyes knowing.

Aelin fought valiantly against the blush that was rising in her cheeks, and only partially succeeded. “I—”

“We all understand what it is like to be newly mated, Aelin. You need not fear judgment from me,” the older female interrupted. “Now, come. Let us decide our futures together, as our ancestors the Sister-Queens once did.”

Aelin nodded her agreement, and together they began to walk along the path, Rowan following close behind until Sellene twisted her fingers and a shield of hard air appeared at their backs. “My dear cousin, I’m afraid I must ask you to part from your mate for a little while. She will return to you shortly.”

Rather than simply leave, Rowan looked to Aelin. Before he could ask her for instructions, though, she waved him off. “Go on, buzzard. Shoo. I’ll meet you back at your rooms.”

Rowan shook his head before shifting and taking flight, flying so close to Aelin’s head that she ducked and laughed before entering the palace through a window.

Sellene smiled as she looked on, before once more leading Aelin down the path on which they were standing. “Now, tell me everything,” she demanded, and Aelin began to speak.

~*~*~

Lorcan was already waiting for Rowan when he re-entered the palace, and he bit back a grimace when he noticed the other warrior’s presence. “She’s with Sellene now. They stopped me from following before they could say anything substantial.”

Lorcan growled. “And you listened to them?”

“I bound myself to Aelin with a blood oath,” Rowan retorted. “I cannot disobey, as you well know.” It wasn’t strictly true for this specific situation; Aelin had not made her request a true command under the oath, and he had felt no compulsion. Lorcan didn’t need to know that, however.

“Speaking of your decisions regarding her,” Lorcan began with a sneer. Rowan couldn’t restrain the snarl that left him in response, even if he had bothered to try. However, that didn’t halt his former companion. “Did you come here intending to betray Maeve, or was that simply an additional perk for you?”

“Aelin told me nothing of her plans, knowing I would be compelled to stop her if I knew. I followed because of Maeve’s orders to remain close in proximity to Aelin, and because I believed a meeting between the two of them was a terrible risk.”

Lorcan scowled, glancing out over the grounds as if he would be able to hear them if he could only find them. “So you followed this girl while she came to murder our queen. And then you swore yourself to her. Now you’re bedding her, and allowing her access to our future queen completely alone. When are you going to come to your senses?”

“I began to come to my senses when I learned Aelin and I were carranam,” he snapped, “and when I realized that was something Maeve would never allow, given her unique brand of cruelty. Even if you discount the fact that she wasn’t Fae—”

“Which we cannot prove,” Lorcan hissed.

Rowan growled. “Even if you choose not to see that, you must see that she had much to answer for. We may have all chosen her oath, but many of us had little other choice. Unless you were going to have a better life than most of the demi-Fae who were allowed into the city, Maeve’s oath was your best chance to prove yourself. We all know how she entrapped the Moonbeam twins. Gods know why Gavriel or Vaughan swore the oath.”

“And you think your new tyrant will be so much better?”

“Aelin has never once forced a command on me,” he admitted. “And her oath… it feels different. Warm. Like a gentle tug rather than claws raking down the base of my skull.”

Lorcan scoffed. “Romantic foolishness.”

“Perhaps.”

Lorcan scowled, glancing out of the window once more. “She could be doing anything right now. I don’t like it.”

“She said she would be formally renouncing any claim she may have to Maeve’s throne, granting Sellene uncontested rights as Mora’s heir. We don’t have any reason to doubt that.”

“Speak for yourself. I have every reason to doubt that.”

A sudden thought struck Rowan. “Tell me, do you intend to swear yourself to Sellene if she asks?”

Lorcan turned to face him again. “Do you think she will?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I know she didn’t approve of the way Maeve used the oath, but I don’t know if that means she’ll abandon the practice altogether.”

His former companion sighed. “There’s too much we don’t know about this. None of us expected Maeve to require an heir. Sellene is completely untrained.”

“Not completely untrained,” Rowan countered. “Unseasoned, yes. She could use sound advice as she settles into her duties.”

“And you think we are the ones who can give her that,” Lorcan frowned.

“Who better? We had a… unique insight into the way Maeve ran Doranelle. You and the others can provide stability as we navigate this change.”

“And what of you?”

Rowan smiled. “I doubt Sellene will want me to linger for long, bound to another queen as I am. I suppose I’ll be going back to Terrasen before long.”

A swirl of ice around a twisting flame startled them both into looking out of the window once more, Lorcan growling at the sight. “I told you she couldn’t be trusted!”

“They’re not fighting,” Rowan said distantly. “Can’t you feel it in the magic? It’s… playful.”

Lorcan stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “Magic is magic. I thought you were better than that.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Rowan frowned. It was certainly not something he would’ve thought or said before…

Before the bond.

“It’s the bond,” he realized. “I wasn’t feeling their magic, but Aelin’s intentions.”

Lorcan sniffed. “Even more foolish and less provable.”

The swirling ice and flame exploded into embers that danced with snow in a dazzling display, and Rowan smiled. “That is not how offensive magic behaves. They’re testing each other, perhaps. But they’re not attempting any harm.”

Soon enough, the two future queens proved Rowan’s point for him by reappearing once more along the path they had taken. They were laughing together, and Sellene had crowned Aelin in ice while flames danced around Sellene’s head. “See? They both seem unharmed,” he pointed out.

Lorcan glanced down at them and then sneered. “So your bitch-queen has ensnared yet another Whitethorn—”

Rowan had had quite enough of Lorcan talking that way about Aelin, and before he could fully realize what he was doing a band of ice was pinning Lorcan to the nearest wall. “Do not speak of her that way in front of me,” he snarled. “You don’t have to like her. Beyond the next several days, it’s doubtful you will have to even see her again.”

Lorcan’s own dark power emerged, and the ice shattered. “Don’t condescend to me when you bound yourself to her.”

“And given the choice, I would choose her every time,” he snapped. “You are not required to approve of it, and I know far better than to ask for your blessing. But I will not tolerate you speaking that way about her.”

Rowan didn’t give Lorcan any further chance to reply. Instead, he shifted and flew out of the window, darting back into the palace closer to his rooms. After all, Aelin had said she would meet him there, and as far as he was concerned they still had several days’ worth of celebrating their newfound freedom from Maeve to catch up on.

~*~*~

Sellene’s coronation as Fae Queen of the East was a simple affair, and a few short days later she personally escorted them to the nearest port city. While Maeve had never left the city of Doranelle, Sellene felt it was important to get to know the Fae she now ruled over, and had told Aelin that this would be only the first stop on a tour through the lands.

Finally they reached the sea, and Aelin took a moment to watch the sunlight glimmer on the waves.

“You wouldn’t be hesitating now, would you? We’re finally on our way home.” Aedion’s eyes were fixed on the ship that awaited them when she turned to look at him.

“I know we are,” Aelin replied. “But there’s one more thing I need to do before we can leave, cousin.”

“And you’re only just now telling me this?”

“Yes,” she said with a pointed glance in the direction of a certain white-tailed hawk circling above them.

Rowan had spent most of the days traveling in flight with his cousin, a hawk and an eagle ever scouting ahead, screeching to each other with the joy that must come with soaring on the breeze. In the evenings he returned to her side, holding her as though he never wished to let her go and kissing her as though she was his entire world.

On a small handful of nights they had crept away from the camps and joined together again, and Aelin still felt a small thrill simply from thinking about every soft noise she’d pulled from his lips. It had been a risk, certainly, to press him against a tree and sink to her knees before him, and the entire time she’d worried just a little about getting caught. But his reactions had been so very worth all of the risk.

All of that joy they had found in each other over the past few days would only make this next step harder, however.

They made their way down to the docks, and Aelin turned to face Sellene once more. “Thank you for your hospitality these past days,” she said.

Sellene smiled. “The world is to have two Sister-Queens once more. I would prefer that we remain on good terms, and that together we may rule over the Fae as one. As our ancestors did before us.”

“I would like that,” Aelin agreed.

“Once you are crowned, Doranelle will recognize you as the Faerie Queen of the West, overseeing the Fae of Erilea as we rule the Fae of this continent,” Sellene declared, green eyes gleaming with determination. “Write to me when you are approved, and I’ll ensure it is done as quickly as we can.”

“I will,” she promised.

Rowan landed beside her and shifted then, his arm finding its way around her waist as it so often did. Sellene smiled at the two of them. “Are you ready?”

Aelin nodded her reply. “It will be as we discussed. Rowan?”

He turned to face her in confusion, and with a twinge of regret she reached into herself for the oath that tethered him to her, giving it a gentle tug. “You are to remain here with Sellene,” she said, watching his eyes widen in surprise. “She needs assistance with ensuring a smooth transition of power, and you will be invaluable to her for that purpose. When she deems your tasks to be done, then you may return to me.”

Anger flared in his eyes, then. “Did it not occur to you to ask me?”

Aelin smiled, though there was no joy in it. “Would you have accepted it as necessary to be parted from me, even just for a few weeks?”

Rowan’s scowl told her he knew perfectly well she was correct, but that he was upset with her regardless. “Is it necessary?”

“I’m afraid it is. Without you it will take months rather than weeks for Sellene to assume her throne. I cannot spare even a few more weeks. You know I’ve been away from Terrasen too long. Besides, there is something there that I must do without your presence.”

And what is it that you cannot possibly do in my presence? his eyes demanded.

I must meet with the lords of Terrasen.

Pine-green eyes suddenly widened with understanding. “You’re going back for your crown.”

“I am,” she replied.

Rowan finally nodded. I wish you had told me sooner. I understand why you’re doing this alone, but I would have liked to bid you farewell properly.

Aelin bit her lip. Had I given you advance warning, you would have convinced me to allow you to return to Terrasen with me.

I would certainly have tried. I doubt I would have met with success.

I am honored by your impression of my determination, but I assure you I would have been sorely tempted. Especially if your argument had consisted of your face between my thighs.

Rowan spluttered then, ears turning pink, and Aelin grinned.

“Disgusting,” Aedion chuckled in the distance.

“You’ll be just as bad as soon as we get home, if not worse, cousin,” Aelin retorted, her eyes never leaving Rowan’s.

Finally, he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her brow. Before she could do more than reach to wrap her arms around him as well, he was already gone, shifting and flying in a circle around them. He landed on her shoulder briefly, brushing her cheek with the tip of his wing, before screeching and flying off, his cousin shifting to join him.

Aelin winced. It appeared he hadn’t quite forgiven her yet, if he was willing to screech at full volume directly into her ear. She hoped that she would be able to make it up to him soon.

Aedion laughed. “You really do have a knack for irritating those around you.”

“It’s my greatest charm,” she grinned, though her gaze stayed fixed on the hawk flying beside a golden eagle until they disappeared from view. “Now, let’s go home.”

And as she and her cousin turned to the ship that would bear them across the sea, Aelin took a deep breath and began to walk forward.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and she had a crown to win. She would not be afraid.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer

[estoniacobaltpayne]

Judgement Day

Chapter 1: Devising Deceit

Summary: Desperate, a force user bargains for her freedom; if she acquires the ‘asset’ deemed top priority, she would be free from the life that has enslaved her. Years of training has prepared her, but she’s stubborn and unlucky and more often than not she’s biting off more than she can chew. Maybe pulling the long con is the only path to freedom, but if it is, there’s a Mandalorian blocking it.

Warnings: language, implications of creepy old men

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Prologue: Here!

Arvala-7 was hot. Despicably so. It was as if its creation was solely intended to irritate her on her quest. She would have thought she would have been more accustomed to the heat, but even the stuffy cargo holds on the dingy and dank ships she stowed away upon weren’t as unbearable as the waves of oppressing heat radiating from the red sand.

Hell, even Jakku hadn’t been this unbearably hot.

Luckily, Darth Ragna didn’t have long to linger in her suffering for too long. An isolated base appeared before her, and along with it brought the beginning of her journey towards freedom. Taking out the guards would be quick work, especially with her abilities. Really, what could they offer themselves for protection? Blasters? A canon at most? Surely, nothing to suppress her unnatural abilities. A forgotten base such as this one would in no way be equipped with such advanced, expensive, and rare technology.

And so she began her fight. The blasters were easy to manipulate into disintegration, and their users were easy enough to mindlessly toss aside without a single touch. The first canon was just the same. The second canon was a surprise, but took just as little effort. Then the crew of the base rolled out another 3 canons simultaneously. She was falling behind in her attacks. She now played the role of the defence, and damn, was their offence growing stronger? Or was the heat of the sun really that bad? How comical. The sun bringing down someone as powerful as her.

But it wasn’t the sun. It was the syringe sticking out of her arm. Did these unintelligent life forms really just... gain the upper hand? Did they really just have the audacity to shoot her with… what was it?

What was-

The last thing she saw was the same damned red sand kicked in her face by the boots of the soldiers running towards her. She couldn’t even feel it stinging her eyes, coating her skin, dirtying her hair. And after another moment in slow motion, she lost her ability to keep her eyes open.

The last thing she registered was the sharp voice that eternally plagued her head; “you should be better than this, pathetic child.”

And then, she was nothing.

——

Rumbling.

Outside.

Outside where?

Where is inside?

Darth Ragna pushed herself off the ground. She spit out some of the red sand that still lingered in her mouth. How long had she been out? Why couldn’t she feel the force? How did those buffoons even get the upper hand?

She lifted up her arms to shake some of pesky sand that was in her hair. It was impossibly tangled in every direction, and the sweat and sand coating her head was making the itching on her scalp nearly unbearable. But something was impeding her attempt to soother herself; handcuffs. A very familiar model of handcuffs.

“If you can’t control yourself, then I get to control you. Understand, girl?”

A tall man with skin as pale as his soul and a grip to match pulls along a young girl, not even old enough to have 2 digits in her age.

“Please! I can! I can be good! I promise! I-“

He turns around and cuts her off sharply, “no! This is the last time you disobey me! If you didn’t want the cuffs, you would have contemplated your actions before you enacted them! Pray I don’t devise a worse punishment!”

A pair of handcuffs encircled her wrists. They were a clean chrome colour, that, when paired with the glowing blue technology underneath their surface, suppressed every ounce of ability to connect with the force. She was alone now.

It was the same type of handcuffs that were forced upon Ragna now.

But now, they were such a small problem compared to the IG-11 droid imposing over her body that was limp on the floor. She backed herself up the wall, trying to put as much space between herself and the killer droid as possible. After all, her powers in the force were useless, thanks to the cuffs, and she was useless against the droid.

But its focus was not on her, anyways.

Its target was stubbornly aimed on the pram to her right. She couldn’t see into it, but she new from the intel she was given back home that, if it was the asset she was sent to acquire, it was a child. The droid had its blaster aimed into its center; but it dropped to the ground with a hole in its head as suddenly and as unceremoniously as it had been brought into this world. Its effortless destruction was brought upon it before it got the chance to terminate the child.

But whatever managed to take out an IG-11 droid so very easily was more concerning to Darth Ragna; and that’s when she noticed the Mandalorian.

The visor of his silver helmet was trained upon her. The chest plates the colour of the sand beneath his feet rose and fell in gentle breaths; too gentle considering the energy he must have exerted to take out the guards outside. Speaking of which: if he could take them out, why couldn’t she? If she couldn’t out-fight a few hired guns, how the hell was she supposed to take out this beast of a Mandalorian? Even if her abilities in the force had been unsuppressed?

She thought quickly; the only way to get out of this alive was to out-wit the Mandalorian. If she was able to successfully convince him that she was sent here to care for the asset, then she might be able to gain his trust. And once she did, she would, quite literally, stab him in the back, and take the asset as her own bounty. And so, in a rushed, nearly unbelievable string of jumbled words, she put on, truly, her best act. But her rushed stammering, she could tell, did little to sway the bounty hunter. After her speech, he simply stared at her, unmoving.

Finally, after Ragna began to think that he would just end her then and there, he let out a gruff, “how do you explain the cuffs, then?”

His voice was like nothing she had ever heard; rough, raw, authentic. It stunned her into silence. It wasn’t until he let out a tensed, “well?” that she responded.

“They didn’t believe me! Even after showing them that I, too, am a wielder of the force, they still locked me up here!”

The Mandalorian was really going against his better judgement when he helped her up off the floor. But for Ragna, things were starting to go her way. She just had to sell her feigned kindness and hope that he warmed up to her quickly.

“Thank you! You have no idea how refreshing it is to have someone sane at a time like this! Imagine if those gunman had just left me here. How rude! I can’t even think of it! Truly, you live up to the reputation of your people! Now, if you would oblige me once more and take off these cuffs?”

The Mandalorian was already halfway out the door with the child, when he bluntly replied, “no.”

Well, damn.

——

And damn once more. Ragna had really expected her situation to be much easier than it was turning out to be. A caravan of Jawas had raided the Mandalorian’s ship for parts (not that there was much worth scavenging, as she bluntly said to the ship’s owner). Her new travel companion enlisted the help of a former ally to try and remedy the situation. An Ugnaut named Kuill, who mentioned in passing his indentured servitude in the Empire. Ragna stiffened. Did he… did he know of her? If he did, he didn’t seem to let on, a relief to Ragna. If she were to be found out, she would be facing instant death via Mandalorian.

Honestly, it was the damned cuffs. This whole ordeal could have been over and done with had that stubborn Mandalorian just taken those handcuffs off her. But until he did, she could do nothing to help in any way. Not when the Mandalorian went to fight the mudhorn did he take them off, and not even when he was fixing his ship. She could have helped and this all would have gone much faster, and she was sure to make that fact known to the Mandalorian in a feeble attempt to win his faith, but he did nothing but ignore her.

More importantly, she couldn’t carry out her plan to kill the Mandalorian and take the child to the Imperials herself if she was still held hostage in the force suppressing cuffs. She attempted to reach out to him; to establish a faux acquaintanceship with him in order to sway him into trusting her, but as soon as she initiated a conversation, he took the child and hid himself away in the cockpit. He locked the doors and didn’t dare retreat for the majority of the ride to Nevarro, as she believed he mentioned they were going, which was her last chance to enact any semblance of her plan. But alas, he still did not remove the force suppressing cuffs, and she was still disabled to the force. The Mandalorian’s contact, however, proved to not be useless to her and her situation. He was one of the Imperial councilmen that approved her bargain; the child’s obtainment for her freedom. The amount of time the client spent talking to the bounty hunter was excruciating, however, as soon as he left, she made herself and her bargain loud and clear to the Imperial client.

“I bargained that should the child be brought into Imperial hands, that I would be freed.”

The Imperial was a plump man with a disapproving face. He was smart, and not one to easily let go of what he felt belonged in Imperial clutches.

“And yet, you were not the one to bring in the asset, so I do believe that your contract has been voided.”

Her jaw squared. She would be damned if some bounty hunter got in the way of her freedom.

“I helped him. I led him to it. There were too many guards. Neither could have taken them alone. My contract never said I couldn’t employ the assistance of another,” Ragna was seething. All she could do was plead. There was no way she would let go of her freedom now; not when she was so close, and she wasn’t below laying herself down at the feet of this asshat to obtain what she wanted.

“And yet, you’re sitting here in the force suppressing handcuffs I know your father so dearly loves to see you in.”

A shiver ran down Ragna’s spine. But she ignored the implications. She would weasel her way out of this.

“He wanted assurance that I wouldn’t kill him and take the reward for myself. After seeing the reward was beskar, I can’t blame him. Now, I believe my obligations are fulfilled. Please remove the cuffs.”

The Imperial client regarded her for a moment. Honestly, with how much Ragna made the Empire put up with - all her fits and acts of rebellion against her training - she’d have thought they’d be glad to be rid of her. A fact she made clear to him in his glaring silence.

After a moment he acquiesced, and ordered one of the troopers to remove them.

She was free.

——

And how beautiful freedom was.

For all of about an hour.

Ragna was enjoying some street food native to Nevarro when she heard a commotion on the next street over. She shouldn’t have investigated. Really, she should have stowed away on the nearest ship and bailed, but something pulled her towards the trouble.

And she really, should have known what was the source.

There he was, that damned Mandalorian (only now in a shiny new set of armour), carrying the child to his ship. He was conversing with someone, who, Ragna didn’t know, but before she could try and decipher their conversation, her comm beeped from her satchel.

“Come in! Ragna come in!”

She really, really, shouldn’t have answered the damned call.

“Ragna! The bounty hunter I was informed you worked with in obtaining the asset just made off with it! Tore threw nearly a half dozen troopers! Apprehend he and the child immediately!”

Rage coursed through her. She was no longer an Imperial toy!

“How dare you? My contract has been fulfilled! It is no concern of mine what happens in Imperial matters now!”

A dark cackle comes through the comm. The poor quality of the speaker mixed it with static to give it a truly horrifying and maniacal texture.

“I thought you wanted freedom in order to better carry out the will of the Empire? I see now that you have betrayed me and this entire organisation. Foolish girl. Apprehend the bounty hunter and bring us the asset, or there will be not a single crevice of this galaxy that you can hide from me.”

The comm went silent. Sigh. Should she disregard her commands and hide herself away, she would never truly be free. If she brought in the bounty hunter and child, she would never have to worry about hiding from her Imperial keepers ever again. Ragna regarded her options. She had no ship, so chasing the Mandalorian around the galaxy in an attempt to kill him was off the table. She still had her original plan though. And now, as other bounty hunters swarmed him from every angle, she had the perfect opportunity to help fight them off.

Hopefully, that would be enough for the Mandalorian to seal some trust in her.