#will edit later but I just had to get down the thoughts that were swirling around in my head like a tornado | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

siribaes · 4 months ago

Text

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

#siribaesfics #armando aretas x oc #armando aretas x black!fem!oc #armando x oc #armando aretas fanfic #bad boys fanfiction #black fanfiction #woc fanfiction #poc fanfiction #armando aretas

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winchesterwild78 · 7 months ago

Text

Behind the Scenes pt 3

Master List

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: jealousy, Fluff, language, brief mention of masturbation, physical assault and violence, attempted sexual assault.

**Trigger Warning** Attempted Sexual Assault

A/N: You are newly hired on Supernatural. Your character was supposed to be a one and done but the fans loved you so they wrote you in the story. You were supposed to play Sam’s love interest, but things get complicated when you fall for someone behind the scenes. This is a work of fiction. No disrespect to Jensen or Jared or their families. *kinda a long chapter, just wanted to set up the story*

I edited this fast- please forgive any mistakes

This is my original work, do not take it.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You and Jensen got dressed. Well, he got dressed. You had to put back on the nude covers and your robe. You still had a scene to shoot. You arrived back on set and soon Jensen and Jared arrived. Jared came over and asked if everything was okay with you and Jensen now. “Yeah, we figured it out. I’m sure he will be fine during the scene. I’m ready to get it over with so I can put on some clothes.” You laughed. “Okay well I’m glad y’all worked it out” Jared said nudging you.

You playfully hit Jared’s arm and told him to be quiet. Jensen cleared the set and you and Jared got into position. “Alright guys let’s take it from the top” Jensen announced. You and Jared got in position and before Jensen yelled action you looked over your shoulder at him. He smiled and winked. “Quiet on set, and Action.”

The scene went perfectly. Jensen didn’t cut once and by the time the scene was over Jensen was very excited again. The next scene was your character and Sam lying in bed and confessing your feelings for each other. “That was amazing baby” Sam said. You smiled and said “it really was Sam. I’ve wanted you for a while and now here we are. I’m in love with you, Sam. I’m not expecting you to say it back. I couldn’t keep it in any longer”. Lilah confessed. Sam cupped your face and looked into your y/c/e eyes and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you too, Lilah. So much. Move in with me and Dean. If you want you can have your own room or…you could share mine.” Sam responded. Lilah smiled softly and said “yes! I’ll move in with you. We will figure everything else out later.”

Off scene Jensen was watching you and Jared confess your love to each other. He felt a little twinge of jealousy he tried to push down. This wasn’t really you and Jared. It was Sam and Lilah. His head knew that, but his heart only saw you and Jared. This scene was the last one of the day and Jensen desperately wanted it to be over. He loved directing and he knew if he let his feelings get the better of him he wouldn’t be asked to direct again.

The scene continued. Lilah slowly took her hand and slid it down the side of Sam’s face. Letting her fingertips dance down his cheek. Her thumb ran over Sam’s lips and she leaned up to kiss him. The kiss deepened. Your head was swirling with thoughts of Jensen and how much you wanted to be with him. You moaned into Jared’s mouth and ran your fingers though his hair slightly pulling him to you. It surprised Jared and everyone on set. Jensen’s jaw clenched.

By the time the scene was done and Jensen called cut the jealousy in him burned like a fire. The PA helped you get your robe on so you could walk back to your trailer. The shooting was done for the day and some of the cast and crew were headed out for dinner and drinks. You told Misha and Jared you’d be there once you showered and dressed.

Jensen had stormed off set and went to his trailer. He bounded up the stairs and slammed the door. He ran his hands through his hair and growled “fuck! Get yourself together. It as just acting.” He was angry and frustrated mostly with himself. He loved Jared like a brother why was he jealous of the scene. He cared for you but the two of you hadn’t decided if you two were going to be together or not. He wanted to, but he hadn’t asked you what you wanted.

Jensen grabbed a beer and sat on the sofa. He scrolled social media and ended up on your page. He found himself looking at your posts and smiling. He thought you were beautiful, but your smile made you more beautiful. He sent you a follow request and he put his phone down.

Jared sent Jensen a text about dinner and drinks and Jensen said he’d be there. Jensen jumped in the shower and all he could think about was you and how your bodies felt together. As his thoughts drifted back to the time you two just spent together he felt himself get aroused. As he started to wash his body his hand found its way to his engorged shaft. He palmed his length and closed his eyes picturing you. He moaned and jerked himself off until he exploded all over the tile wall.

As you got back to your trailer you turned on the shower and pulled out your phone. You saw a new follow request and smiled when you saw it was from Jensen. You accepted it and set your phone down. You showered quickly and got ready to go out. You were dressed in your favorite pair of jeans that hugged you in all the right places, a low heel boot and a top that showed your curves. Your hair was down, curled and you put on light makeup. You grabbed your phone and bag and left your trailer. The Uber you ordered arrived and you climbed in.

Jensen finished getting ready and head out to the bar not long after you did. He wasn’t sure if you were going to be there but he hoped you were.

You sent Jared a text to let him know you’d be there soon. When you arrived you climbed out and went into the bar. You saw Jared right away. He’s hard to miss because he’s so tall. Jared waved you over and you smiled walking over. Everyone greeted you and told you congratulations on the scene today. You smiled shyly and thanked them. You couldn’t help but scan to see if Jensen was there. Jared leaned over to you and whispered “he’s on his way”. You nodded and smiled.

You were hanging out with the cast and crew and ordered some food and a drink. You looked up and made eye contact with Jensen as he walked in. He was sex on two legs. He was wearing a pair of tight black jeans that showed off his ass and everything he had to offer, a t-shirt that showed off his defined chest and hugged his strong biceps, and a pair of worn cowboy boots. You bit your lip when you saw him.

He made his way over to the table you were at. As he walked over he didn’t break eye contact with you and it made you excited and nervous at the same time. Heat ran through your body and settled between your thighs. You blushed. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and Jensen grinned.

Finally breaking eye contact he greeted everyone but kept looking over at you. You smiled and downed your drink. One of the extras on set and your PA from earlier were chatting with you and convinced you to hit the dance floor with them. Jensen had ordered shots for everyone and you downed it then hit the dance floor.

The group of women with you were having a great time dancing together. You were getting pretty tipsy and started dancing for Jensen. You locked eyes with him and your body started moving in ways that turned not only his head but others. You licked and bit your lips moving your hips. Your hands ran up your body and through your hair while you swayed to the music. Jensen’s eyes turned dark with lust and he licked his lips. Jared cleared his throat “Dude you look like you’re going to take her right there on the dance floor.” Jared laughed. Jensen looked over at him and blushed “sorry man I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” “I do, I looked at Gen the same way” Jared smirked.

You were dancing and told the girls you needed to go to the restroom. You walked off the dance floor and noticed Jared had Jensen’s attention. As you approached the bathroom a very tall, muscular, very drunk man stumbled in your path. You accidentally bumped into him. “Oh I’m sorry, excuse me” you said offering an apologetic smile. He looked at you and there was something in his eyes that sent a chill down your spine. You walked into the bathroom and let out the breath you were holding.

When you finished in the bathroom you walked out and check the hallway. You didn’t see anyone, specifically the man you bumped into so you walked out. You just about clear the hallway and can see Jensen looking around the room. You smiled because you knew he was looking for you. Just then you felt yourself being forcefully pulled backwards and dragged away. You screamed and tried to pull away. Your screams were muffled by the loud music and the other sounds filling the bar. The arms that grabbed you were so strong. You fought and then you felt yourself being pushed against the wall in the ally out behind the bar. It was creepy guy. You could smell the nauseating smell of alcohol and tobacco from his mouth. He pushed your arms above your head and pushed himself flush against you. He kissed you hard and you almost threw up in his mouth as he forced his tongue in yours. You moved your head to the side and screamed “help and get off me”. This only pissed him off more. “You’re such a little tease. I saw the way you were dancing in there. You were asking for a big man like me to take you. Looks like you could use a good fucking darlin” he hissed as he groped you.

Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you closed your eyes begging him to stop. All you could think of was Jensen. His smile, laugh and how gentle he was with you. A stark contrast to how this man was trying to be. He ripped your shirt and bra, exposing your breasts and he grabbed them both. One in his hand and the other in his mouth. You were still fighting. Screaming and praying that someone would help you.

Inside the bar Jensen was getting worried “Jared I don’t see Y/N anywhere.” Jared and Jensen approached the group you were dancing with. “Hey do y’all know where Y/N is? We haven’t seen her in a while.” Jared asked. One of the girls told him you went to the bathroom a little bit ago. Jared and Jensen looked at each other and thanked them. They grabbed Clif and a couple of the other guys and went looking for you.

Clif banged on the bathroom door and when nobody answered he went in. “She’s not in there” he told them. The guys all started combing the bar and Jared went out to check the front.

When he was outside he swore he heard a cry for help. He ran in the direction of the sound and was met with a fence. He ran back in the bar and towards the back. Jensen and Clif saw him and took off. They burst through the back door and saw the man standing over a woman who was fighting and crying. Jensen caught a glimpse of your face and yelled “Y/N!” He grabbed the guy off of you and punched him in the face. Clif grabbed the man and threw him to the side and Jensen pulled you into him. You were sobbing and shaking. Jared gave Jensen his flannel to put on you. He and Clif called the police and kept the guy detained until they got there.

Jensen had someone bring you a water and he held you. The paramedics checked you out and besides being shaken and a couple of cuts you were okay physically. Jensen offered to drive you home and you agreed.

When you arrived home Jensen helped you inside. “Jensen, please don’t leave me alone. Please stay with me” you begged. Jensen looked at you and said “I’ll stay here as long as you need, sweetheart.” He pulled you into his arms and held you.

“Jensen, I need to take a shower. Can you please sit outside the door and wait for me” you whispered. Jensen nodded reassuringly. You grabbed your pajamas and clean underwear and went into the bathroom. You turned on the water as hot as you could stand and climbed in. You let the hot water wash down your body. You grabbed the soap and scrubbed hard all over your body and face. You could still feel his hands on you. You felt disgusting and guilty. You weren’t paying attention to how it looked when you were dancing. You were just dancing for Jensen. At least in your mind you were.

You sat on the shower floor and sobbed. Bringing your knees to your chest. Jensen sat outside the door and with each sob his heart broke and tears fell down his face for you. He wanted nothing more than to come in and comfort you, but he knew it would upset you more.

His phone went off with a text.

Jared: hey man. Did you get her home okay?

Jensen: yeah. I’m here with her now. She’s showering and she wants me to stay. She’s scared to be alone.

Jared: that’s understandable. I feel horrible we couldn’t protect her

Jensen: I know. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her.

Jared: well let me know if y’all need anything and I will be there

Jensen: thanks brother. I’ll let you know.

As Jensen put down his phone he heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later you’re coming out of the bathroom with your hair in a towel, an oversized shirt and a pair of biker shorts. Jensen instinctively bit his lip. “God she’s beautiful” he thought to his self.

You walked over to him and hugged him. “Thank you for staying and being here for me.” You kissed his cheek. Jensen was a little taken aback by your kiss. He didn’t mind it but it was the last thing on his mind. “What would you like to do, sweetheart” he asked. “Can we just lay in the bed and you hold me. I was so scared Jensen and all I could think about was you.” You said as a tear rolled down your cheek. “Of course we can.” He said as he pulled the blankets back. He took off his shoes but left on his shirt and jeans. He usually sleeps in just his boxers but he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable

“Jensen, you can’t be really comfortable in those jeans. You can take them off if you want to.” You said. “I just want you to be comfortable, Y/N. I didn’t want to assume I could take them off.” He said as he stood.

Jensen took off his jeans and laid them to the side. He took off his shirt and placed it on top of his jeans. You were lying in bed looking at him. You had just been through something horrible but all you could think about was being in his arms, being with him again. Jensen climbed back in the bed and pulled you close. You snuggled into his chest and took a deep breath. His smell was intoxicating and calmed you.

Jensen’s hands were wrapped around you and he rubbed your back. You sighed softly and felt your eyes getting heavy. Jensen smiled as he felt you relax and your breathing slow down. He knew you were asleep and felt safe. He kissed the top of your head. Jensen fell asleep thinking he could get used to the two of you falling asleep together. Jensen felt a little twinge in his heart.

The sun peaked through the curtain and cast little sun streaks across your face. Jensen woke up to the beautiful sight of you still wrapped in his arms. The way the sun lit up some of your freckles made him smile. He wouldn’t have seen them without the sun on your face. He smiled and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered awake and you saw his green eyes staring at you. You smiled as you stretched. “Good morning, Jensen.” “Good morning to you too, sweetheart.” He said.

You placed a soft kiss on his lips and he kissed you back. You climbed out of bed and told him you were going to start some coffee. You walked in the kitchen and heard Jensen’s phone ring. He answered it and you could hear his frustration. As the coffee brewed you took out your phone and saw social media was blowing up with what happened last night. There were pictures of the guy being taken away in handcuffs with a busted face, pictures of you being checked by paramedics and the headline read “Jensen Ackles involved in bar fight after co-star, Y/N Y/L/N was attacked by bar patron.” The story detailed almost everything that happened and even said the way Jensen was protecting you it seemed like you two were involved.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. How did they get so much information so quickly. You were frustrated and so deep in thought you didn’t hear Jensen coming down the hallway. He put his arms around you making you jump. “Oh god. I’m so sorry Y/N! I didn’t mean to scare you” he said pulling away. “I’m okay Jensen. You just startled me. It’s okay. I promise” you reassured him.

You hugged him and he wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Sweetheart, my manager called this morning about last night. Apparently it’s all over the internet and there are pictures too. The media is eating it up and saying we are a together. I have to go meet with my PR team this morning. You might want to reach out to your team too.” Jensen said looking at you. You shook your head “yeah. I saw the articles this morning. I’m sorry Jensen. I never meant for this to happen.” You hung your head. Jensen lifted your head and kissed your lips. “This isn’t your fault. We will figure this out.” “Um, Jensen. What should I say about us. I know we had sex the other day but we haven’t labeled anything. I don’t know what we are to each other.” You asked softly. Jensen took your hand and looked you in your y/e/c eyes and said “I want to be with you. I want to be yours and you mine.” He kissed you. “Yes! 1,000 times yes! I will be your girlfriend” you squealed.

The two of you got ready and before you left you kissed each other. You two walked to your cars and before you got in you said your goodbyes. “Goodbye girlfriend, I’ll see you later today” Jensen smiled. “Goodbye boyfriend, see you after this meeting” you giggled. Jensen took your hand and pulled you close to him. His lips captured yours in a deep passionate kiss. You moaned into his mouth. He smirked as he pulled away. You whined a little and he chuckled. “Later baby. I promise you we will continue this later.” He kissed your forehead and opened your car door. You slid in and said “okay, later”.

The meetings with both managers and PR teams went better than anticipated. They both agreed you and Jensen should release about the incident and your relationship status. The PR teams discussed putting out a joint statement.

The statement read:

In light of recent events we, Y/N Y/L/N and Jensen Ackles would like to address some news about the incident that occurred last night at a local bar and grill and other rumors surrounding us. We met with cast and crew at the bar and grill to celebrate the halfway mark of filming the season. While at the bar Y/N was viciously attacked by another patron. Jensen and several other people at the bar were able to locate her and remove her from the situation. Since this is an ongoing police matter nothing more can be discussed. When we are able to talk more about it we will. As far as our relationship status we would like to officially announce we are together. While this is new and in the early stages we want to be open and transparent with all of you. We understand as actors we are in the public eye, however, there will be times when our relationship will be kept between us. Any big news or celebrations will be shared when we feel it is best. We ask for respect and privacy as we navigate this new chapter in our lives and as we move forward from the incident last night. We thank you all for your love and support.

Respectfully, Jensen and Y/N.

The statement was sent to news outlets and posted on social media. By the time you and Jensen got back to your house the statement went viral. The executives and producers had reached out to you and Jensen to make sure your relationship wouldn’t create problems on set. You both assured them it wouldn’t.

Jensen looked exhausted and so did you. “Hey, let’s order a pizza and just hang out tonight. We don’t have to answer any calls, texts or posts. Let it be just you and me tonight.” You said. “That sounds perfect” Jensen smiled. You ordered the pizza and went to your room to change into something more comfortable. Jensen had brought an overnight bag and when he saw you going towards your room he got up and followed.

You were grabbing your comfy clothes and he leaned against the doorframe watching you. “Like what you see Mr Ackles?” You smirked. “You know it” he practically growled. Jensen crossed the room and took you in his arms kissing you. He led you backwards until your legs hit the bed. He laid you down gently and you giggled as he flopped on the bed beside you.

He wigged his eyebrows at you “whatcha wanna do sweetheart?” “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” You questioned. “I can think of a few things we can do to occupy our time.” He said. He cupped your face and kissed your lips. You put your hands on his hair and pulled him in closer deepening the kiss. Your hand pulled at the hem of his shirt and he quickly pulled it off. You placed your hands on his chest and ran your fingers up and down his body. He groaned and you bit your lip.

The sounds he makes seem pornographic at times and it makes you so hot. Your shirt was the next to go, followed by your bra. Jensen groaned when he saw your exposed breasts and hesitated. You nodded yes giving him permission to touch you. His fingers and lips felt like fire on your skin. You could feel his arousal growing and pressing against your thigh. You could feel yours pooling between your legs. You unbuttoned your pants and he pulled them off leaving you in your soaking wet panties. He stood and removed his leaving him in his boxers. You bit your lip and clenched your thighs together. Jensen’s hands were exploring your body and his lips were leaving as trail of fire and desire on your skin. He started to slip his hand in your panties and you moved your hips to allow him access. As his fingers slipped under your waistband there was a knock at the front door.

Jensen’s head fell down and he groaned. “Of course. Perfect timing” he groaned and grabbed his sweatpants. As he got up he let out a frustrated sigh. You giggled as you pulled the blanket over you. You heard Jensen at the door and it was the pizza. You grabbed your comfy clothes and put them on. You decided to leave your bra off.

As you walked into the kitchen Jensen was putting the pizza down. You grabbed drinks and he grabbed the pizza. The two of you walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. You both grabbed a slice of pizza and you leaned back laying your legs across Jensen’s legs. You felt comfortable with Jensen. It was scary how quickly he was becoming a huge part of your life. As you leaned forward to get another slice Jensen leaned forward and kissed you. You smiled and said “what was that for?” “Nothing just wanted to kiss the woman I lo…who is my girlfriend.” He said quickly. Your head screamed “was he about to say the L word?” You asked yourself. Surely not. It’s too soon, right? Your heart fluttered maybe it’s not. You smiled.

After the food was done you and Jensen sat snuggling on the couch. Your head on his shoulder and one of his arms lying across your back. His hand was running up and down your arm. This felt comfortable and perfect. You sighed softly and Jensen kissed the top of your head. The hold he had on your heart already was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Could you trust him completely with your heart?

Eventually the two of you fell asleep on the couch holding each other. As you fell asleep you felt your heart warm. You knew this was the beginning of something beautiful and long lasting. It’s crazy you thought, but you knew you were starting to fall in love with Jensen, and knew he was falling in love with you. Neither one of you would admit that just yet, but it was there and you both felt it.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92 @suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles smut #jackles #jensen ackles x reader

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whirlwindimagines · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hi! I just stumbled onto your blog and I saw the Vash writings you did and oh my god my heart 💖😭 thank you for this blog!

Totally an optional request, but could you do one where the reader is a bit reserved on her feelings with Vash, but once she hears people bashing him for being a menace or a crybaby the reader goes absolutely feral in defending him on how he’s done so much for people, and starts to realize how much they genuinely cares for him. And if Vash confronts them on it the reader gets so flustered to where they can’t even look them in the eye or just melts with how he is

Again completely optional! Just thank you for all you do and I hope you feel better! 🥹

Aww I'm glad you’ve enjoyed my fics for Vash, I'm so in love with him it's not funny ;p; I hope you enjoy it! I left it a little open-ended :) ;) So who knows what that can mean :) And thanks! I'm currently having some good soup, so hopefully, I get my voice back ;p; Also ya'll have two Vash x Readers today for Stampede Saturday <3

edit: I DID IT AGAIN FORGOT THE LAST SENTENCE, I cant even blame sick brain on that ;p;

‘Those hardest to love need it most’

Vash X Reader

You're going to blame the alcohol, or maybe you are just an idiot? Everything about today was fine, or normal well as normal as it can be when you are traveling with Vash the Stampede. You entered a small town, hoping to stay out of trouble easier for you than for Vash.

Vash wanted to come to this town and said he knew the sheriff here. You crossed your arms as you looked at him, “And you’ll stay out of trouble while we’re here, right?” Vash rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh, “Oh come on! You know I try to! It’ll be a quick trip, honestly!” He clasps his hands together, giving you a pout with those big puppy dog eyes.

Who are you to resist? With a ‘tsk’ and an eye roll you let him drag you into town.

It's barely been five minutes since you’ve entered the town when Vash gets roped in on helping the local sheriff, you offer to go with him but he just dismisses you and says he’ll find you later. You are about to argue when he gives you a gentle smile and a pat on the head. At that point the argument ties on your tongue, and before you can embarrass yourself you just agree and run off.

Which leads you here sitting at the bar of the local saloon, enjoying a drink or two. You sigh, leaning your head down on the bar, being alone with your thoughts is never good. Lately your mind has been drifting off to warm and fuzzy feelings of Vash. You're scared to figure out what that all means, so you’re choosing to ignore it.

You hear two men sit down at the bar; you glance at them before ordering another drink. You hold the drink in your hand, swirling it around as you start to zone out.

“Did you hear that Stampede guy is in town?” One of the men says it draws your attention, but you keep your face passive. “The Humanoid Typhoon? That guy is nothing but trouble.” answers the second. Your grip tightens on your drink, you hate that nickname it's so unfair when they call him that. They have no idea who the real Vash is, you know you should just let it go. Vash always wants to see the good in everyone. You, on the other hand, have a much harder time with that.

“He's got a bounty too; 6 million double dollars. I say we go for it before he destroys the town.” You slam your drink down on the bar counter hard, startling the two men next you. With a glare you look at them, “If I were you two, I would stop talking.”

So, you were a little protective over Vash, someone had to be. “A stranger like yourself shouldn't stick their nose in other towns' business.” You roll your eyes, “That man is a danger to us, brings nothing but unfortunate everywhere he goes.”

Your heart aches for Vash, you stand suddenly grabbing the man closest to you by the collar of his shirt, “You have no idea what you're even talking about!” You snap, anger taking over. “Vash does everything in his power to protect people like you, scum that doesn't even deserve it. You’d be lucky to meet someone as incredible and amazing as he is.” You know that you certainly felt lucky to have met Vash.

Oh.

You drop the man suddenly, eyes wide, taking a step back. Oh God you were an idiot, truly and deeply. Your heart rate picks up, how could you have been so blind? Clearly, the man didn't like being manhandled by you, because he lunges for you. But before he can reach you, you are suddenly pulled back, your back hitting a firm chest with a hand on your shoulder.

“Whoa, now fellas let's take it easy!” Vash’s cheerful voice breaks the tension, you look up shocked to see Vash’s easy-going smile, but something is off about it. His jaw is set tightly and his hand trembles on his shoulder. Your face heats up, how long had he been standing there?

The man scoffs, “You should keep this one on a leash.” He points at you as you sneer at him, moving to take a step forward. You're stopped by Vash’s hand tightening on your shoulder, you glance at Vash, as he narrows his eyes. “Funny, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You're about to snap something at Vash, but he swiftly begins manhandling you to throw you over his shoulder, you let out a shriek of protest at the movement. Gripping the back of his jacket like a lifeline, as he carries you out of the saloon

“Vash put me down!” You yell at him; your heart is beating way too fast and your face feels out. He does put you down, he does it so suddenly that you nearly lose your footing until he places his arms on your biceps to settle you. He doesn’t let go, but instead hangs his head.

You are still angry, “You should have let me handle those guys, who do they think they are talking all that nonsense-”

“Stop, please.” Vash interrupts you, his voice quiet and sad. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice breaks a bit, you can tell he's probably going to start crying. The anger melts away quickly after that, “Well it matters to me.” you admit softly,

He looks up at you, tears forming in his bright blue eyes and your heart skips a beat. “Why? You don't need to defend me; I’ve heard it all before. Honestly.” He says this with a light laugh.

“Well, it doesn’t make it okay!” You snap, and he flinches back startled, dropping your arms but you don't let him get far as you grab him by his biceps taking a step closer. “You give so much to everyone you meet, your kind, you see the good in everyone even when they don't deserve and you give people hope, me included. So yeah, I'm going to defend you every time no matter what, Because I care about you!”

Vash’s eyes widen, and you feel like you’ve maybe overstepped, also did you have to throw in that part at the end? Your face heats up, and you’re looking everywhere but at Vash’s face. Dropping his arms, you turn around, “Okay, I'm going to bury myself in a hole bye Vash.” You turn around quickly, ready to run off but before you can Vash grabs you from behind slamming your back into his chest and hugging you around the shoulders.

He rests his face in the crook of your neck, “I don't deserve you.” Vash mutters into your neck, you blush brightly, and you sigh smiling softly, “You do you really do Vash.” You’re not sure on how long Vash holds you, but you’re not complaining. You’re a little embarrassed to have been so open with your feelings, Vash can be a little dense so you doubt he’ll look deeper into your words.

Which is fine, just being like this together is enough. Your whole-body freezes, when you feel Vash place a gentle kiss on top of your head, “I care about you too.” You were going to die, your pretty sure you blacked out or at least your legs gave out. “Whoa!” you hear Vash cry out moving his arms to keep you steady and, on your feet, “Are you okay?”

No, you really weren't, you let out a yelp as Vash spins you so you’re facing him. He leaned in close, too close! You shoved him back, leaving your hands on his chest and bowing your head. “Just… hold on.” You focus on composing yourself, you look up as you feel Vash place his hands over yours and he’s looking at you with such a sincere smile it makes you want to cry.

“It's okay I get it, you’re okay…” a pause, he looks unsure, “We’re okay.” Your eyes widen, and then soften he's giving you an out. You relax, you need to work through these feelings first by yourself and then you two could figure out where to go from there.

You smile softly at him, “Yeah, we’re okay.”

#vash the stampede x reader #vash imgaine #vash x reader #vash imagines #vash the stampede #trigun stampede imagine #trigun #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede #trigun x reader

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random-introverted-blog · 1 year ago

Text

His Star - His Queen [Chapter 5 - A Lesson in Submission]

The first of many...

Summary: Perhaps you push your defiance a bit too far. Perhaps it would have been wiser to be more tactful with your behavior.

Perhaps this was only a matter of time.

Link to the Tumblr Chapter Index

Want the uncut/uncensored version? - Read it on AO3

Warning/Advisories: -Noncon elements - A ripped nightdress and noncon roaming hands on bare skin (He warned you in Chapter 1)

HI TUMBLR, THIS IS FOR YOU: The graphic scene was cut from this version because I'm not comfortable having an SA scene left hanging on my blog. If you want to read the GRAPHIC, UNCENSORED AND UNCUT SCENE - the link to the AO3 version is above.

-Emotional manipulation

-Forced pleasure

-Generally creepy dialogue (chapter 4 ramped up to 11)

-You fro up and have a relatively realistic response to being assaulted

-There's a party happening down there and you're fiancé isn't letting you participate

A/N: Sorry guys, I'm sure there's other people who have written and posted something like this on tumblr before but that ain't for me. But I worked like a dog to get this chapter written and edited. It's as good as I can get without tearing my hair out [Thank you, bestie for putting up with me, Astarion ain't even your mans]

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

For the rest of the walk, you couldn't help but notice the curious stares you were catching from the servants and patrolling guards. Though the latter seemed less perplexed, the former looked between you and the Ascendant like you had two heads and noodles for hair. Worse, some of them seemed... jealous.

If you could tell there people to have some self respect, you would make a formal announcement where ever the Ascendant and his puppets make them. But at least for now, you need to try to behave.

Even the sound of the word makes your skin crawl.

When you reach the door to what you assume is Orchid Hall, a swirling darkness appears behind you before rapidly becoming a person. "Forgive the intrusion, your Almighty—"

"I said no interruptions, Ballar." Astarion bites, glaring at the tall and lanky elf man.

Ballar, hands clasped behind his back, bows his head. "I know better than to do so without reason, my Godking."

"Godking?" You echo, glaring at the Ascendant. "You're more conceited than I thought, and that's saying something."

His gaze hardens, firm. "You are still learning, it is only your first day. And I do not wish to discipline you on your first day, pet." He warns in a tone that is the farthest from your Astarion that you've heard. "An apology will suffice as suitable recompense this time." Straightening his posture and lifting his chin.

Oh, so that's a button for him. Is it because you're in front of people, or does he not like being called out on his bullshit? If he expects you to actually seek forgiveness, then you suppose the both of you are in for a surprise.

The Ascendant studies your expression and seems to realize you have no intention of indulging him. With a deep groan bordering on a growl, he looks away. "Much as I love you and your strength of will, there is a time to exert it and a time to submit to your husband-to-be. And it seems to be a lesson I will need to have with you sooner rather than later."

He turns to Malacai, his arm raised in a familiar gesture that reaches above his navel. "Take my fiancé inside and guide her along until I return." And just like that, he steps away with the tall elf, who simply acknowledges you with a respectful "Lady Ancunín" before following close behind his master.

"My lady, if I may," Malacai's mellow, velvety smooth voice says to grab your attention. For a brief moment you feel concern but whatever "lesson" he has in mind, but you let it go for now and turn to drag yourself through the doors. Precise and perfectly timed, Malacai opens and holds the door for you and flows smoothly into step behind you.

Until you come to an abrupt stop, and he immediately stops behind you.

For a moment, you're left bewildered and unsure how to interpret this. Some well armored guards in fancy armor stationed in the corners, sure. A long row of men and woman, of somewhat varying ages. None of them seem even close to their elderly years, but you also weren't very sure about how other races aged. Also, no gnomes. Or dwarfs. Halflings seemed to be the fewest in number. Elves, half-elves, tieflings, and humans made up the combined majority with some half orcs and dragonborns in between.

"Would my lady like an explanation of the task set before her?" Malacai asks beside you, his hands clasped behind his straightened back after you've had time to assess the row of people.

"Yes. Please." You nod once, not moving your eyes from the row, feeling mildly self conscious as they stare at you with half stifled confusion.

Malacai steps into your field of view but not in front of it. "Of course, my lady. His Almighty Majesty has gathered these offerings to be selected and chosen for your esteemed service. He would like you to personally choose a number of them, if it would please you."

Your eyes knit together. "Please me?" You query.

"If you deem the matter unsuitable or beneath you, His Majesty will respect your wishes and handle the matter himself."

"Now wait just a tick!" says a raised voice from the line and a quick scan of them quickly reveals a human, possibly in her mid thirties with light colored hair and wearing a broach of some kind. "I was told the sovereign himself would pick the servants, not some nobody prissy!" She glares at you, her words seemingly rallying some of the others to her cause...

The response surprises the both of you, and you're perfectly fine agreeing with them and taking your leave. Malacai is stunned, though - and anger flashes in his eyes. "You dare speak of—!"

"Yeah, who let the tramp trudge through the door?" Another woman sneers, some taking a threatening step or two in your direction.

"Look, I'm just—" But like Malacai, they're not interested in what you have to say. They want their sovereign and they're getting very loud about it.

And everything that follows occurs in a blur, leaving no time for a response. In a fit of rage, the woman flings her broach towards you. The pin connects with your cheek, piercing the skin. You instinctively flinch and reach for it, warm blood trickling down your face in a thin stream. The broach then tumbles to the floor, making a sharp clattering sound.

In an instant, the shadows swiftly converge in front of you from the dim corners of the room, swirling and twirling in a mesmerizing dance. Suddenly, they burst open, resembling a plume of smoke after an explosion. Gradually, the shadows recede, cascading like a heavy blanket, steadily taking the form of a humanoid figure, mirroring Him with its imposing stature that towered over the room and the presence of large, jagged wings. The cacophony of screams and cries emanates from the furious crowd, creating a dissonant symphony of fear.

The atmosphere was charged with tension, but as the creature surveyed the scene, it became clear that there was no genuine danger. The shadows slowly peeled back, unveiling the visage of a relatively normal, though gorgeous elf, with pale skin and a crown of curly white hair.

Unconcerned about the once angry mob, he diverts his attention to you, his grip on your chin steady as he meticulously observes every aspect of your face. He narrows his eyes and huffs through his nose upon assessing only the one scratch. With a silent command, he raises his hand, and the shadows immediately obey, darkening until his palm becomes an inky abyss. He then places it softly against your cheek.

Biting cold pierces through the air in front of you, like tiny needles pricking at your skin. The faint scent of winter frost drifts from his shadow shrouded hand, followed soon by subtle warmth as his magic seals the slight break, like a gentle caress. "Which one?" He asks no one specifically, as if searching for an answer that only the silence can provide.

Lacking any hesitation, the others shove the woman to the front, paying no mind to her feeble protests. Astarion doesn't look up right away. Instead, he slowly released his hand and carefully studied his work. The darkness slowly retreats from his palm, and he gently massages the area where the cut once was with his bare thumb.

At last he turns to the silent row of servants, and the woman in particular. "You dare to lay a finger upon the one who is destined to share my throne? How quaint." Astarion's sneer is filled with disdain, steadfastly holding his ground before you, almost protectively. The fury evident in his eyes.

The woman's face became a canvas of realization and horror as she desperately shook her head, attempting to retreat. Once more, Astarion raises his hand, and inky tendrils of shadow emerge, wrapping tightly around her and forcefully dragging her closer. "Oh no," he sneers, a malicious glint in his eyes, "you disgusting little worm, you're going nowhere." The threads coil around her, their grip tightening as she's forced to her knees before him.

Astarion's eyes meet yours as he turns to you, his hand reaching out to take yours, coaxing you to stand by his side. "Think of this as another chance for me to teach you something, darling." He steps aside, gently guiding you until you stand directly in front of her.

So she's kneeling before you.

"Now. Look upon this creature. What do you see?" The Ascendant asks, slowly circling behind the woman.

"Astarion—"

"Answer." He interjects sharply, bringing his open hand up and closing it. The woman winces as the dark strands around her constrict.

Despite your desire to save or spare the woman, make him stop or even just not take part in this, you begrudgingly accept you have to play along for now. You exhale deeply and look her over. Her eyes, red and swollen, were filled with tears that cascaded down her face and dripped off her jawline. She's sniveling, her shoulders shaking and voice quivering. Her breaths come in unsteady gasps, a sign she's teetering on the edge of a hysterical outburst.

It's a trick question. The real question is how much you really want to play his game? "I see a woman who didn't—"

"Wrong." The Ascendant scolds firmly, his reprimanding tone interrupting you as he leisurely strolls back to your side. "Before you kneels an insect. A pest. A creature fit only to serve however we desire."

"She didn't know who I was, Astarion," you argue, your voice filled with defiance. Turning to face him, a flicker of amusement dances across his face, challenging your statement. "Or rather, who you insist I am," you risked correcting, folding your arms resolutely over your chest.

A subtle change comes over Astarion as a hint of darkness flashes in Astarion's eyes, followed by a frustrated scoff. "Your denial will do you no favors, pet. Best you understand and accept your new life now and save us both the pain." There's something about the way he lowers his voice and the intensity in his eyes quells any retorts or defiance you could lash back with.

Clearly, he discerns your reaction from your facial expression and appears pleased with your compliance. He smooths his jacket and delicately grips your shoulders, redirecting you towards the woman. "Your natural inclination is to think of this creature empathetically. But you don't think twice if a fly crosses your ear one time too many." The Ascendant continues, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "Now, if the fly had been a mere nuisance, perhaps it could be ignored. But if it had bitten you? Harmed you...?"

"Please..." you mutter, your voice tinged with pleading. A sinking feeling manifests in your gut, already hating where this was going.

"Say the word, my consort." Astarion urges softly, his hands drifting to encircle his arms around your waist.

The urge in your blood knows exactly what it is being called to do. What's being offered. It would much rather your own hands be the ones tearing the wings off this insect. Gouging its pretty teary eyes from those fragile sockets. But you close your eyes, letting the world fade away as you concentrate on the calming rhythm of your breaths. Ironically, the smell of bergamot, rosemary, and the aroma of a frosty winter evening ground you. You find yourself instinctively leaning into him somewhat, seeking more of the comfort to hold the urge at bay.

When your eyes open, a tear or two rolls down your cheek, their journey ending on the dark blue sleeve of the Ascendant's tailcoat, creating small wet spots. The warmth of his breath flushes your ear as he sighs against it and he adjusts his arms to hold your back snug against his chest. "It was difficult for your old self too, the first couple of times..." He murmurs sympathetically, his lips brushing against your temple in a soft kiss. "Ballar."

At the sound of the uttered name, the tall elf materializes beside the two of you. "Very well, your Almighty Majesty." The elf nods with a respectful bow of his back before approaching the woman. His grip is firm as he clasps her arm tightly. Suddenly, a plume of dark smoke envelops them, obscuring their forms from sight. The air carries a faint, acrid scent as they vanish into the mysterious smoke, leaving you with an uneasy feeling. Whatever silent command was issued, maybe you don't want to know.

Astarion remains close to you for the rest of the... selection thing. There's an incident where one of the halfling girls tries begging you to choose her, which almost kicks off another dramatic mob, but Astarion is quick to shut it down.

Calling it uncomfortable would be an understatement. When you ask if there is a criteria or whatnot to follow, he almost literally dismisses you with a "pfft." It is only when he comprehends the seriousness of your question that he adds with a more compassionate tone, "whatever pleases you, my dear... but not all of them - there will be a wider selection after the festival."

Near the end you notice a young tiefling girl. Grey skinned with the shortest horns you'd ever seen. Astarion had indicated an interest in moving on from this, and his hand on your shoulder reminded you of it. But he didn't stop you from wandering over to her.

You recognized the look in her dark, fiery eyes. Not just desperation. Purpose. It wasn't anything you could put your finger on as you held each other's gaze. For better or worse, you were curious about what she felt so strongly about that led her here. Come to think of it, she wasn't involved in any of the earlier chaos. "What's your name?" You had asked the other ten or fewer this question as well, as you weren't fond of the idea that they'd be nameless creatures in your service.

Plus, you could tell Astarion disliked you were asking, and that was a nice incentive.

She held her head high and awkwardly held her arms behind her back. "Elowen, Lady Ancunín."

Behind you, the vampire lord let out an annoyed huff, clearly bothered by both your question and what you assumed was an improper way of addressing of you. You didn't care. "I'd welcome you if you'd like to accept the offer." You say, your attempt at a smile faltering.

Surprisingly, this is the first one you've talked to that reacts almost sympathetically. As if noticing how forced your gesture really is. Maybe even recognizing the dissonance between your genuine desires and everything that surrounds you. "It would be an honor to serve you... my lady." Elowen bows and quickly corrects herself when her eyes catch a glimpse of the vampire and Steward behind you.

"That will do for now, my sweet." Astarion's voice sounded from behind and gently tugged you away and encircled an arm around your waist. He snapped his fingers with his other hand and servants entered the room. They move with silent understanding. "Considering everything," he adds once you're near the door, "you did well."

Part of you is reminded of all his "lessons," including the one he hinted at earlier about the importance of submission. Dread finds a home in the pit of your stomach, making it heavy and uneasy. You don't really care to learn the intricacies of ruling, being his queen, or any of it. It won't matter in the end. Not when you get free of this place and return to your world, where the warmth and safety of your friends will make you feel whole again. And you will get free.

...won't you?

________________

Day in, day out, it was almost the same. Sometimes he'd tutor you himself, other times it was Malacai. There had been a considerable focus on etiquette and presenting oneself, which you could only assume had to do with this festival you had heard so much talk about.

They assured you that your confinement to this wing of the palace was not permanent. Once your engagement to the godking had been announced, there would be less need to hide you away. But for now, the Ascendant wanted your presence kept quiet.

You had seen little of the servants you picked several days ago. Malacai said they were undergoing a strict training regimen in preparing to serve a ruling sovereign.

An endless parade of seamstresses and shoemakers had trotted their way through the doors of the southwest wing. You weren't one to be dolled up or wear silly dresses to begin with, and this just deepened the feeling. But the Ascendant wanted you in a special outfit for the engagement and you were still beholden to what he wanted.

Not for long, you told yourself every day. This would not be your forever.

The seamstresses and shoemakers worked tirelessly and with no complaint at how difficult you made their lives, though the Ascendant had sat in a few times and tried to encourage you to be less resistant to some suggestions, though he was more involved in the design of your dress for the festival.

As for your interactions with him? They were surprisingly tame. At most, he would hug you. Press a sweet, lingering kiss to your cheek or peck your lips. Maybe at one point he kissed your neck, and his hands wandered. But never for long and never too far. Just enough, you were certain it was on his mind.

If you felt uncomfortable or instinctive recoiled, he wouldn't stop you from drawing away. He would smile a little, as if to say "you just need time" and that would be that.

You hadn't even slept in the same bed yet. He went to the royal bedchamber, and you tucked yourself into yours. It was a nightly routine for him to visit you before bed. Occasionally, your exchanges were filled with playful banter, but at other times, they took a confrontational turn or revolved around his plans for you. And he would always kiss you goodnight. Never on the lips. Like a fragile little princess.

"May I offer you more reading material, my beloved?" He asks upon entering your room, noticing you in your nightgown, an open book propped up on your knees.

To your surprise, he was there, and a part of you couldn't help but be taken aback. "Tomorrow is the big day. I thought you'd be too busy tonight." You comment with curiosity and reach for the glass of water on your bedside table.

The Ascendant huffs a soft laugh, the sound escaping like a gentle breeze. "Not too busy for you, no," he stated, a smile evident in his voice.

You sip your water, taking him in. Simple clothes. He seldom wears them, not even at this hour. It brings to mind his old camp clothes, though they appear less tattered. His black shirt clung tightly to his body, accentuating the contours of his sculpted chest. He wore dark brown pants so tight that they seemed to be painted on, leaving little room for comfort. As you set down your glass, the gentle tapping of rain against the window fills the room, setting the ideal mood for reading. "The bookcase in here is paltry to begin with."

He pauses, and the silence hangs heavy in the room, reverberating off the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse his focused gaze, carefully assessing the size of the small bookcase. The scent of aged paper and polished wood lingers in the air, adding to the ambiance. "Hmm," he muses, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "Agreed. Would you like me to remedy it?" His question hangs in the air as he redirects his gaze back to you, waiting for your response.

It catches you off guard, although it shouldn't. "I want nothing from you." You mutter quietly, not interested in a verbal confrontation at this hour. "Unless it's letting me go home." Absentmindedly turning the page of your book, you caught a whiff of the musty scent of old pages.

It comes as no surprise that the suggestion causes the Ascendant to bristle with indignation. "You are home, pet." His firm reply echoes exactly as you anticipated.

He reaches across and effortlessly plucks the book from your grip, flinging it to the other end of the bed. Without missing a beat, his hand tenderly moves to hold your face. "Perhaps it's time you've learnt what home feels like." His voice dipped low and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine, as if velvet caressed your ears.

Unable to think clearly, your mind is consumed by confusion as you struggle to understand his intentions. Searching his crimson eyes for a hint of the intent behind his words.

It dawns on you a second too late and your body becomes rigid and dread crashes over you like a tidal wave. "Lay back and hold still."

Right from the start, you find yourself wrestling against his orders, determined to regain control of your body. In the blink of an eye, he's on the bed, asserting his control as he positions himself on top of you, straddling your legs and keeping them trapped beneath him.

The overwhelming task of regaining control of your limbs leaves no space in your mind for insults. With a gentle yet firm grip, he tears your gown open, his lips finding their way to your jawline, leaving a trail of sweet kisses and teasing bites. Lowering his mouth along your neck, he senses the rapid throb of your pulse, a reflection of your panic. "Your scent is even more alluring than your other self," he whispers against your skin, his fangs appearing much sharper than your Astarion's, delicately grazing over your pulse. "I've waited over a century for you, my love... To find you..."

Before you have time to process any of what he just said, the ordinarily sharp, frigid piercing feeling now just feels like two tiny daggers of ice melting deep into your neck. But then the sharp sting of his fangs gives way, and you're left with a strangely soothing sensation that defies explanation. A calming tingle that dances across your senses and defies logic. It leaves you gasping for air, but the soothing caress of his hand in your hair seems to be an attempt to reassure you as he drinks deeply. Meanwhile, you begin to wiggle your toes, feeling a tingling sensation as you strive for control over your legs.

With a contented groan, he indulges in one last sip from you before withdrawing and gently lapping at your weeping wound until it ceases to yield any more to his palate. The scent of your blood lingers, mingling with the heady aroma of bergamot and rosemary and frost, his increasingly familiar presence all creating a bewildering blend to your senses. "Exquisite... Even better, I could scarcely believe it a possibility." The Ascendant muses quietly as his hands explore the curves and contours of your vulnerable body, tracing every line and curve with a mix of curiosity and desire.

He hastily grabs his shirt, yanking it over his head as impatience fuels his movements. He swiftly pulls off his pants in two motions. Just then, you feel a tingling sensation as your right leg awakens, granting you unrestricted movement.

You jab your foot at his chest, and you can feel the strength and power in his grip as he effortlessly catches it. With a firm yet gentle grip, his hand closes around your ankle, arching an eyebrow in intrigue and amusement. "Impressive..." The Ascendant remarks. "I may need to use stronger charms on you already."

As his words resonated in the air, he appeared to be contemplating them aloud, while his fingertips traced the smooth surface of the gold and silver band that snugly encircled your ankle, emphasizing the sense of captivity within this elegant prison. You question if his attention on it is to underscore your status as his possession or if he's simply delighting in the knowledge that you belong to him.

Until you find a way out of here. You have to find a way out...

Releasing your foot, he deftly flicks his wrist, conjuring a shadowy tether that extends from the shackle and secures itself to the bedpost.

"Don't fight this, my treasure." The Ascendant murmurs. With a slow, deliberate movement, he delicately hooks his knee under your left leg, guiding your body to open itself wider to him, causing a shiver to cascade through your body. "Once you experience how pleasurable submission to me can be, you'll hardly fathom you resisted me at all." His words, laced with a velvety purr, penetrate your senses, capturing your attention completely.

The moment your hands regain their freedom, they shoot forward, eager to rake your nails across his bare chest. Yet, his reflexes outmatch yours as he quickly seizes your wrists, forcefully pinning them beside your head. "The Astarion I know and love values consent above all else." You finally hiss behind your teeth, hating the way your voice wavers. "He didn't need to force me down like this..."

"And he will never make you feel the way I can," smirks the Ascendant, his voice oozing with confidence and a seductive undertone.

"Now relax, little love..." Your senses ignite as a rigid, pulsating sensation grazes over your sensitive nub...

And he teaches you a lesson you won't be so merciful to forget...

______________________

You nuzzle closer to the warmth rather than open your eyes, encouraged by the soothing touch of fingers in your hair. Gods, you could lay here forever. When was the last time you slept this well? With...

The thought dies off, and you tentatively peel your eyes open. Dread sits in your stomach as you realize your position. Practically laying on top of a naked Ascendant. "Good morning, darling." He purrs, his fingers gently tangling in your hair, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I've had a warm bathe prepared, ready for you to immerse your beautifully bare skin whenever you desire."

As you move, you realize just how sorely your body aches. There's a dull pain between your legs and your cheeks flush faintly remembering how... immense he felt last night. Mercifully, he pretends not to notice as you fall limp against him. An around you didn't realize was around your back tightens some as you press closer, his hand and fingers stroking gentle patterns on the smooth expanse of your skin. "You said something last night," your voice hoarse and dry as you speak, "about waiting over a century." Turning your head on his sculpted chest to meet his scarlet eyes.

Behind his lips, a subtle hum escapes, reminiscent of soft laughter, as he tilts his head to one side. "Well, your other self didn't abandon me yesterday." He murmurs, petting your hair. "Finding you, acquiring the means to reach you, to bring you here. It didn't all happen in an evening." Something about his choice of words unsettles you. More than just finding out the Other You died one hundred and fifty years ago.

His fingers lifting your chin, guiding your lips to his. You don't fight it; you know better. Not now. Not when you're naked in the same bed as him. Vulnerable... "As much as I'd like to remain here, savoring the morning of our first lovemaking with you, there is much to be done before the festival tonight."

"That's what you think it was?" The words fall off your tongue before you can think better of them.

The Ascendant pulls back just enough to see both your eyes clearly, almost searching them. "What else could it be?" The words soft, warm. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing. You don't fail to note the serrated teeth laced along them. He's daring you to challenge him...

Silence is your only answer. And that seems enough to satisfy Astarion's quiet annoyance with you.

He presses a tender, lingering kiss to your lips and you reciprocate despite the knot it creates in your gut. Only risking to remember your Astarion after he's pulled away and carefully guided you off of him to slip out from the covers and leave the bed. Curiously, he wanders over to an armoire you've never touched and when he opens it you see tailcoats, doublets, jackets, dressy shirts with ruffled sleeves and collars... He's been keeping a spare change of clothes in your room the whole time. "I'm going to bathe separately, otherwise nothing will get done..." The Ascendant explains to your unspoken confusion. With that, he dresses himself, regards you with a brief smile and leaves the room.

Just like that, you're alone with yourself. Nearly overwhelmed with a deep loathing for your own flesh. Every fibre of your being recoils in disgust. The repulsion extends beyond the surface, rooted deep within your very core. The weight of despair anchors you to the bed, but a desperate urgency propels you towards the shower, disregarding the searing ache between your legs.

Frantically, your hands vigorously scrub at your body, the harsh friction against your skin amplifying the turmoil in your stomach. The memories of last night assault your mind relentlessly, like a relentless storm. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with the scent of regret and desperation. How could you have surrendered so easily? Disappointment settles upon you, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you reflect on your lack of determination. Does your Astarion mean nothing to you? Doubt seeps into your thoughts, questioning your own abilities, your own worth. Is it because deep down, unknown to you, you fear you can't escape on your own?

Will he even want you back after this? Gods, it's like you barely put up a fight against the bastard. All he had to do was climb on top of you and...

Abruptly, you jerk your head over the side of the bath, the sensation of nausea overwhelming you as your stomach empties, contents spilling onto the pristine white tile.

Then you allowed yourself to go completely slack, feeling the edge dig into your ribs you as you fell onto it. Warm tears cascaded down your cheeks, blending with the fluid pooling on the floor.

The first sob wracks your body not long after...

__________

Whatever happened to a good pair of pants? Whose idea was it that all the fancy ladies should wear dresses most of the time? And why in the hells are you considered a fancy lady? You never wanted to be such a thing. A nice, quiet ocean side home was probably the closest to "fancy" you'd ever choose for yourself.

But that's the keyword, isn't it? You didn't choose this for yourself...

Soft hands touch yours, causing you to retract your hand swiftly. "Leave my nails out of this." You hiss at whichever servant girl made the attempt on your fingers.

Through an instinctive wince at the comb in your hair, your eyes catch the sight of dark and fiery eyes as the tiefling kneels beside you. "Forgive me, Lady Ancunín. I promise I will only tidy them up." She smiles, and it almost feels comforting. True to her word, she simply files them down to a clean, round shape. Cleaning the dirt from underneath. She was one of the few servants from the ones you chose in the room with you. Astarion chose the others with precision, carefully assigning them the duty of taking care of you and making sure you were prepared for the evening. And as they incessantly fussed over, brushed, and prodded you, they were steadily making you want to gouge your eyes out in frustration.

However, this tiefling and the one or two others you picked that were here with you carried themselves differently, and it wasn't just because they were untrained. As they tended to you, you were fairly certain that Malacai's critical observations of their work had nothing to do with it.

"Elowen, isn't it?" You ask, free from Astarion's constant shadow to treat these poor girls like people. As you speak, a gentle breeze brushes your skin from the open window, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers. The knowledge of your time spent with Malacai reassures you he wasn't one who would readily report you for such minor infractions.

Meeting your gaze, the tiefling's eyes held a subtle surprise. At a loss for words, she quickly recovered and graced you with yet another lovely smile. "Thank you." The words are sincere from your heart.

Something passes fleetingly across her face, and even in that momentary glimpse, you recognize what it is.

Understanding. How wonderful it feels to be seen as a person.

Not long afterward, the servants finish your hair - and you can feel the weightless, silky strands falling into place with gentle waves. The custom designed, elegant blue dress, with its delicate silver swirls and leaf embroidery on the shoulders and collar, fell just short of your ankles, exuding an air of grace.

Deep brown ankle-high shoes, crafted with precision, expertly concealed the shackle from prying eyes. Although you couldn't discern their exact material, their undeniable comfort put a smile on your face. These shoes were the only item you took the time to specify to the shoemaker, and they certainly didn't disappoint. Honestly, you did like these.

To your relief, Astarion did not insist that the seamstress design a low neckline for the gown. It revealed only the slightest tease of your cleavage. Sure, it was because he wanted to be the only one who delighted in the view of your body, visually and... otherwise. But even that you were thankful for somewhat. Anything to escape the feeling of being a prized possession on exhibition.

A feeling that intensifies as you follow Malacai through the door to exit the wing of the palace you've been imprisoned in. You thought the stares in there were bad, but this was even worse. And shameless. Whispers, like delicate feathers, brush against your ears. Carrying snippets of conversations, questioning your identity, as you pass by servants and what you assumed were guests as your personal steward escorted you through unfamiliar halls. The walls themselves emanate a feeling of grandeur tinged with a touch of uneasiness. The cool marble floors beneath your feet seem to magnify the restlessness in the atmosphere.

Two towering guards, adorned in gleaming silver armor, stand resolutely on either side of a magnificent pair of double doors. Painted in pristine white and adorned with intricate gold trim. As you and Malacai draw near, the guards gracefully swing the doors open, revealing a grand entrance, their movement accompanied by a faint creaking sound. A rush of cool air, tinged with a hint of polished brass, mahogany and fresh baked goods, greets you as you step into the grand foyer beyond. However, amidst their dutiful actions, the guards' piercing gazes linger on you, filled with a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

Suddenly, you're amidst a throng of people, the sounds of chatter and footsteps filling the air, with Malacai constantly by your side, ushering you towards a grand-looking dais or platform. The Ascendant, dressed in a white ensemble with subtle blue undertones to complement your dress, stands with regal poise before you, their tailcoat embellished with ornate golden clasps and perfectly tailored dress pants. Overlooking his guests. He exudes an ethereal charm, radiating a sense of divinity , his very being demanding reverence and awe from all who have the privilege to lay eyes on him.

Observing your approach, he instinctively takes two steps down and extends his hand towards you. The touch of his hand sends a warm sensation through your palm as he tenderly interlocks your fingers and gently draws you towards him, a playful smile on his lips. "Beautiful as always, my treasure." The Ascendant croons.

Your body tenses up as you catch sight of the two thrones behind him, trying to resist the urge to shudder.

"All silence for the Godking's address!" A thunderous voice demands, echoing with power and authority, resonating through the grand hall. The sheer force of it makes your heart skip a beat, but you steel yourself, resisting the temptation to flinch or recoil.

All eyes obediently fixate on the Ascendant as commanded, but yours cannot help but wander from face to face. Equally curious about you as servants were in the halls. Still, this is your first time being exposed to others outside of the palace staff and Ascendant, and despite feeling petrified by the sudden spotlight, you refuse to lose sight of what truly matters. Gathering and understanding what you can of this nightmarish realm you're trapped in.

First you note the tables spread throughout the grand hall with glasses, plates, pitchers, and kegs. The next thing she noticed were the enormous, intricately designed doors, swung open wide to reveal the sprawling entrance hall of the palace.

"Don't worry," he reassures, his voice resonating with authority, the rich aroma of festival spiced wine and delicacies filling the air. "I only require a moment of your time before you can all return to indulging in the festivities." As he scanned the crowd, his eyes revealed his lack of concern, not bothering to commit any of the faces to memory.

"As you all are aware, this past century has proven trying on us. The loss of our cherished, beloved queen was felt all across the sword coast." Your feet itch to run, bolt down the steps, off the dais, through the doors and into the streets. Anywhere has to be better than here. "As you all are aware, this past century has proven trying on us. The profound loss of our cherished, beloved queen was felt deeply across the sword coast." Your restless feet itch to run, to bolt down the grand steps, off the elevated dais, through the ornate doors and into the bustling streets. The anticipation of escape lingers, whispering that anywhere would be preferable to remaining in this stifling place.

The presence of Malacai and the armored guards at the bottom of the dais, reminiscent of royal armor, created a sense of foreboding, emphasizing the how you wouldn't get very far. Your escape would be halted before it even began. "Many have offered themselves before me. Believing they could hold themselves worthy of her throne. Of her place at my side. Yet they all fell embarrassingly short. Women, men, dragonborns, devils... None could compare to my Queen-Consort."

You don't want to be here. You don't want to hear this. Childish as it sounds, you want to plug your fingers in your ears. Or better yet, wake up from this nightmare.

"Nobility of Baldur's Gate! Assembly of highborn men and women, venerable lords, and esteemed ladies of the realm!" The spacious hall reverberates with the resounding voice of the Ascendant, their words echoing with a sense of divine authority. Your gaze wanders and lands upon a procession of musicians, their elegant garments mirroring the grandeur of a royal court. In their grips, they hold instruments of music—trumpets that gleam like polished gold, reflecting the splendor of the occasion, and others of fine make—poised to announce the forthcoming proclamation. Your expression transforms, an eyebrow raising in a silent display of inquiry. Sure, he mentioned this, but you can't recall him explicitly confirming it with you.

"On this, the dawn of The Festival of Gratitude," he proclaims with a voice imbued with the gravity of his high station, summoning from all present a silent veneration that arrested the air itself. It was incredible the power he seemingly held over the masses... It frightened you. "May you find yourselves gratified by the announcement and esteemed company of my betrothed! My queen-to-be, in her resplendent grace!"

His arm enveloped your waist, drawing you in snugly against his side as the trumpets sounded. The touch is electric, sending a shiver down your spine, as you sense the power of his command and the depth of his devotion in his gaze.

And like that, the moment you've been dreading is upon you. Officially and formally engaged to this pale imitation of the man you love. The enormous throne room reverberated with the sound of cheers and applause, as all eyes turned to study you - some filled with surprise, others with intrigue, and some a mix of both.

Their Queen-to-be.

The Ascendant flashes a short wave and a nod before he turns to you. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said as he pulled you into a tight embrace, both arms encircling your waist now. "It's unfortunate we couldn't find the time for a brief speech from you as well. But there will be ample opportunities for that later," he continued. Again, he's talking at you. Your input seemed neither expected nor desired.

Frankly, you may be too shocked to offer any. Every day you wake up and tell yourself this isn't your new normal. Mastering all these ridiculous, fanciful manners and etiquette, learning how to conduct yourself as a "sovereign" doesn't matter. Because you're not staying here. You're going to get out. Find your Astarion, bury yourself in his comforting arms, and never let go again.

But every day, it feels less like a dream and more like an inescapable reality. The idea of escape seemed impossibly far away, like a distant star in the night sky. Your star... Your Astarion. Just the memory alone was enough to make your chest ache, as if it had been crushed into countless pieces. Between last night... and your formal engagement to the Vampire Ascendant, the monster wearing Astarion's face,

The feeling of hopelessness seeped in, dampening your once fiery desire for freedom.

His lips meet yours in a slow and gentle kiss, exuding tenderness and a faint sense of longing as your lips reciprocate mechanically. Not to say his kisses aren't intoxicating, but he wasn't your Astarion, and he'd never be...

When he pulls away, his hand on your back guides to toward the back of the dais...

To the thrones.

Trying to resist, you dig your feet in, but he effortlessly and subtly directs you towards the one on your left.

With a delighted smile that betrays a hint of determination, his grasp on your hand is gentle yet stern, coaxing you downwards. You struggle against it, but he eventually overpowers your resistance, and he manages to firmly seat you on the wretched thing that's haunted your nightmares. Reluctantly, you find yourself settled onto the grandiose throne, the velvet cushion enveloping you.

You feel your ankle snap to the base of the extravagant seat, a sickening sensation that you've grown accustomed to. Seated on the throne that has given you sleepless nights, he gazes at you with admiration. His smile hasn't left his face once. A contented grin played on his lips, evidence of his satisfaction with how well his plans for you were progressing.

The Ascendant lets out a soft, satisfied sigh as he settles onto his grand throne, the rich velvet cushions embracing his body. Beside you, the throne's extravagant carvings mesmerize your eyes with their intricate details, a testament to the majesty of his power. His strong arms rest leisurely on the throne's armrests, providing a sense of power and dominance. As he reaches out and gently clasps his hand around yours, you feel a warmth spreading through your fingertips, a tender connection formed. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, creating a delicate, soothing sensation that tingles across your skin.

And then you sit there. Together on a pair of overly fancy golden and velvet seats. Watching everyone else have some semblance of fun without you. A few guests cast their gaze up toward the two of you. The Ascendant and you find a sort of comfortable silence, observing the goings on of this festival together. You take note that his thumb finds interest with your ring finger, tracing it with his own digits. "Perhaps we can treat ourselves to this foolishness tomorrow, if you'd like," he suggests, his words laced with thoughtfulness, though he avoids meeting your eyes.

You struggle in vain to free your foot, feeling the frustration building with each futile attempt. Chained to the throne through invisible magic. "Behave yourself or we won't go at all." The Ascendant scolds quietly, indicating he saw your fruitless attempt to escape. You release a reluctant groan and recline in your seat, your free hand restlessly twiddling in your lap.

With little else to do, you try to study the variety of faces in the crowded throne room. Maybe you'll ask the Ascendant for a book if he's going to confine you to this stupid, overdone chair. The bustling crowd fades into the background as your heart races upon seeing those familiar crimson eyes. Do you dare trust yourself? Are you already teetering on the edge of madness, consumed by desperation? Would you even want him to see you like this? After what happened last night...?

The more you observe, the more you find yourself accepting the penetrating gaze of those eyes and the man behind them.

Gods above... Your Astarion...

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

A/N: We're probably jumping back to him next chapter, guys. It's actually been a kinda long time In-Story since we've seen him and Aric.

Once again, I thank everyone for their support and enjoyment of this little adventure of ours and I can't wait to share the rest with you. It's mindblowing to me and I'm still not over it.

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echo-goes-mmm · 11 months ago

Text

Old Friends #3

Masterpost

Note: Charlie, the doctor, uses they/them pronouns.

Warnings: mentions of stitches, implied past non-con, mentions of violence

In the field, he was Techmaster. At base, he was just Theo.

“I can do my own stitches,” he protested.

“Are you a doctor?” asked Charlie. They tugged the suture line.

“I’ve done plenty on myself before.”

“That still doesn’t give you an M.D.”

Theo knew a losing battle when he saw one. “How’s Laith?”

“Stable,” they said, tying off the knot. “He’ll live.”

He hesitated.

“Just between you and me,” said Theo, voice going low. “Nightclaw forced him into sex.”

Charlie paused. “I can’t run any testing without consent, but I’ll do a check for active bleeding.”

“Thank you.”

___________________

Theo scrolled through the information, bank records, auto registrations, and “donations” filling the screen.

He could see the reflection of Mateo hovering behind him. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was.

“What?” snapped Theo.

“Just checking on you.”

“I don’t need to be checked on.”

Mateo, known as Guardian to the public, stepped down onto the floor. “Right. What are you working on?”

Theo sighed, the swivel chair turning slightly as he slumped in his seat.

“Laith’s court transcript at sentencing doesn’t match the audio recording. The recording matches his memory, but the transcript doesn’t.”

“So he really was sentenced to thirty years?”

Theo turned abruptly. “You were listening in?”

Mateo sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“What did you hear?” he demanded.

“Everything,” admitted Mateo.

Theo turned back to the computer, guilt swirling in his gut.

“I won’t say anything,” he promised. “I won’t tell him I know.”

“Good. He wouldn’t take it well.”

There was a pause. Mateo leaned over to look at the screen’s text.

“What do these have to do with our case?”

Theo highlighted a section of text. “See this deposit? It’s from a brand new account, into a certain court transcriptor’s savings. And these luxury cars went to a series of prison guards. And a generous donation to a judge’s cancer foundation. I doubt that it actually made it into the charity’s hands.”

“So Nightclaw got the records changed. And paid off everyone who would notice.”

“Exactly. He didn’t want anyone looking for Laith. Even Wikipedia edited the listed sentence a couple years later, citing the transcript, and news channels and papers made revisions to match.”

Mateo whistled low and long. “Impressive. So what do you want to do?”

Theo rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes were getting dry from staring at the screen.

“I don’t know. The timing of the bribes suggests he was in prison for at least a little while. I’m tempted to just forget about it. Time served and all.”

Mateo nodded. “I’d do the same. Thirty years is ridiculous.”

“Knock knock,” called Beatrice from the doorway. She was in her armor, which was unusual considering the down time.

“Hey,” said Mateo, turning. Theo raised a hand in greeting and kept working. He was attempting to hack into Nightclaw’s system, but it was slow going.

“You should be resting, Theo.”

“I am resting. I’m sitting down.”

“Uh huh. Did you learn anything while you were with Nightclaw?”

Theo pulled up the file they had on Nightclaw’s current plans. It was pitiful, just a few lines of text.

“Nothing important,” he admitted. “Just that he’s more sadistic than we guessed. Oh, and he has a new model of power dampeners. They deliver shocks, but they’re easy to pick if you aren’t the one wearing it. I’m sure that will change soon.”

“I heard about the burns on our prisoner,” said Beatrice, her reflection on the screen nodding.

“He’s not a prisoner. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That we know of,” she pointed out. “It could be a ruse.”

“I don’t think so-”

“It isn’t-” said Mateo and Theo at the same time.

Beatrice shrugged. “If you say so.”

Theo turned around in his chair, leaning forward, shoulders tense. “He wasn’t working with Nightclaw willingly. He was a slave, Beatrice.”

She looked at him, her gaze steady. “Are you certain?”

___________________

Laith sat up in bed, wiping away his furious tears. Shame and disgust flooded him. What he wouldn’t give for a hot shower.

The door opened again. He tucked his head into his knees. He didn’t want to see Techmaster again.

“I thought I told you to go away,” he muttered, bitter.

“Not that I’m aware of,” said the person, voice light but deadly.

He looked up.

Warrior, the warrior, looked back at him, her green eyes as intense at the rest of her. Her armor was gold with red details, sleek and more intimidating up close than the news broadcasts made it seem.

To make matters worse, she was wearing her helm and her staff was in her hand.

She never stabbed anyone with the blade on top, allegedly, but it looked razor sharp.

Laith froze.

Warrior strode forward, towering over him. She must be at least six-foot-three.

He couldn’t help but tremble.

“Tell me about Nightclaw.” Her tone was like a suggestion, but it was phrased as an order. He knew better than to challenge her.

“What do you want to know?” he said, resigned to an interrogation.

Warrior tilted her head, her long blonde hair shifting. She looked him up and down, cataloging his injuries.

“His plans, obviously.”

Laith’s blood ran cold.

“I don’t know the specifics,” he said. “Just that he wants power. World domination, the usual.”

Warrior raised a brow. “Everyone knows those things.”

“I really don’t know his plans. If I could tell you I would.”

“Would you?” she challenged.

“I- what do you want from me?” he protested weakly. “I was his plaything, not his strategist.”

“Tell me about that, then.”

Laith squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don’t make me,” he whispered.

Warrior could probably crush his bones with two fingers, but he had to try.

He heard the sound of metal clinking, and he cracked open an eye. Warrior had collapsed her staff until it was just a dagger, and she clipped it to her belt. She took off her helm, and sat on the end of the bed, holding it in her lap.

___________________

She considered him. He didn’t look like a dangerous person, but looks could be deceiving. Still, there was honest terror in his purple eyes, and his body was splashed with violence. Deep dark undereyes betrayed exhaustion, and Laith’s positioning screamed despair.

He looked so small. Weak.

Laith closed his eyes. “Please don’t make me,” he pleaded. She needed a different technique if she wanted answers.

Beatrice put her staff away and sat on the end of the bed. He looked at her, faint confusion on his face.

“Is Laith your real name?” she asked, coaxing cooperation.

He nodded.

“I heard that he shocked you.”

“Yeah.”

“Often?”

“Uh huh.”

Beatrice waited patiently. It was amazing how silence could encourage sharing.

Laith licked his dry cracked lips. “He beat me,” he said simply. “All the time. He’d hold me by my hair and use a metal rod sometimes. But mostly he just used his hands.”

Beatrice nodded along.

“He liked it whenever I begged him to stop,” continued Laith, “He called me his dog. And-” his voice cracked, and she waited for him to keep going.

But Laith shook his head, refusing to voice his thoughts.

Beatrice had heard enough, anyway. Her gut told her Theo’s hunch was right.

“And you don’t recall anything about his plans?” she asked, as gentle as she could manage.

“No.” Laith rested his head back on his knees.

She stood up. “If you remember anything, even if it’s small, let me know, okay?”

Laith hesitated.

“There might be something,” he admitted. “I don’t know-”

“What is it?”

Laith looked down at the bed sheets. “He- he had me get him some uranium.”

Panic flared in her chest. “What for?” Please don’t be nuclear bombs.

“It was a while ago. I thought it was just for fun,” he explained, too slowly for her liking. “His fun, anyway. He was developing new power-dampeners.” He picked at the one on his ankle.

He looked up at her, and must have read the confusion on her face. “They’re made with uranium. I don’t know why or how they work, but-” he shrugged. “He does. He was making new ones all the time.”

“What kind of new ones? Was there a pattern?” She prodded, alarmed.

“Smaller, I guess. Ones that weren’t bands or cuffs. I don’t know anything more. Does that help?”

“It does. Thank you.” She smiled at him, and his face turned from open to closed in a flash.

“Whatever,” he said, flippant.

“I’ll let you rest.” She stepped away, and with her super hearing, heard his sigh of relief.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @loserwithsyle

#behold! names! and plot!#3/5! two more chapters to post and one to write! (yeah the finale is already typed and ready to go)#my writing #whump #old friends #villain whump #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #hero carewhumpee #hero whumpee #hero whump

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punishing-eden · 2 years ago

Note

So idk if you do smut or taking any request at the moment but if you do can you do Lee where he gets jealous? Like commandant is spending TOO much time with Wanshi being his pillow and all.

Author's Note:

Hi, you can still submit requests,I don't mind doing them from time to time. But rn I am a bit busy irl, so it will take a while for me to finish.

As of right now, I don't write Smut. At most, I could is implications of sexual acts. But not full pornographic details/paragraphs.

But also, a Lee and Wanshi sandwich????!!! 😍😍

I know I said this before, but I will say this again, I really need to get to Echo Aria.😢I have heard about their interaction and, Boi... it's *Chefs kiss*

Edit: aksjakjskaka, I made a huge mistake, it has now been fixed.😭😭

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

"Our" (Grey Raven's) Commandant...

Lee (Entropy) x Commandant/reader (ft. Wanshi)

Summary:

Lately, Lee has been experiencing a unique emotion whenever he sees you with another construct, Wanshi. Although, he was convinced it was just some malfunctioning of his M. I. N. D programming. His actions spoke other wise.

Needless to say, Wanshi seems know what was going on.

Tags: Tw: Jealousy, gatekeeping behaviour, request, mild fluff, one shot, a triangle

It started at thirty centimetres. By the time you came back to Babylonia from an earth mission, the proximity, between you and Wanshi shrank by ten.

A week later, it reduced to five, four, three, two, one, all the way to zero. Lee counted the units, whenever he saw you and Wanshi together.

He had been counting, the units on full display in his inner device. Recording the number of times that proximity unit reached to zero. According to his data, it happened more than a 'good' amount.

"I am sorry, but this is 'our' (Grey Raven's) Commandant," he once warned Wanshi, who only looked at Lee with a nonchalant expression. Eyes heavy with fatigue, Wanshi, whom, with a more mature way of thinking, only nodded and ignore Lee's statement. Keeping things civil, Hypnos hummed and walked away.

Without a doubt, it infuriated Lee. Holing up in his room, the construct ruminated in thought, while dismantling his gears. In his mind, you have been spending more time with Strike Hawk. At first, as Lee thought, it was all professional and work related. That was until, he noticed how close you and Wanshi were. A little too close for Lee's comfort.

Needless to say, he began to device preventative measures to bring an end to this madness. Doing everything he could to stop the proximity reaching to Zero. He went as far as to slot himself between you and Wanshi, accompany you everywhere, turning down opportunities of contact on your behalf.

Despite the efforts, he was disheartened. Upset, having spotted you sleeping with Wanshi in the training room.

You were fast asleep against Wanshi's chest cushions, all the while, the construct 'slept' in leisure. The fire arms were laying on the ground, unsupervised, and the scent of gunpowder lingered in the air.

There was a heavy feeling in Lee's chest, a set of emotions ruptured from his M. I. N. D., triggering his physical symptoms.

In denial, Entropy questioned himself. Back tracking through his schedule to see if it was something he did or damaged. Did the construct engineering team replaced the wrong gear? Replenished too much vital fluid?

'I must be overloading', Lee thought to himself.

He didn't say anything but went to carefully picked you up in his arms. It would be better to sleep in a bed.

Without a word, Lee carried you back to your quarters. Only to find you, once again, asleep with Wanshi the following night in the training room. Same again on the next following night again and again.

Gritting his teeth by how maddening this occurance was, Lee picked you up for the final time. You were still fast asleep, exhausted from the training.

The same set of emotions swirled in his M. I.N.D. Lingering his gaze as Hypnos, Lee clicked his tougne out of frustration.

"This is our Commandant," he mumbled, "go get your own..."

"... That's not how Strike Hawk works, you surely know that."

Taking a step back, Lee glared at Wanshi. Shifting in his sleeping position, with his eyes still closed, Hypnos gave a yawn before slowly, very slowly, opened his tired eyes.

Lee scoffed at his last sentence. Clearly hiding the embrassment, of his biased opinion being heard.

"Of course I know that," Lee replied, "But what are you doing, always approaching our Commandant?"

Wanshi only look back at Lee with an indifference gaze. Disinterested in engaging an argument, the construct began stretching before laying back down. Shifting, in a more comfortable position.

He closed his eyes and said, "We just so happen to fall asleep here. Commandant just wants to practise aiming."

There was a scene of you mentioning about your shooting skills played in Lee's memory data. During that time, he wasn't in for a small talk, and didn't put your concerns at heart. Thus, it was his own doing for pushing you to seek others for help. Maybe that's why you went to Wanshi instead.

"... Rest assure, I am not stealing your Commandant. I was just trying to help..." Wanshi quickly fell silent, entering into a slumber, he left Lee reflecting on his emotions.

After a long paused, Wanshi spoke up again, "... it's okay to be jealous"

For a split second there was an impulse urge for Lee to point a gun against Wanshi's head. But, Entropy quickly recovered. He gave Wanshi's sleeping form one last look before heading back to your quarters with his teeth gritted together.

******

To recieve a notice on the following morning, Wanshi realised he'd just recieved an offical complaint. Placing the tablet down on the coffee table, the construct just resumed his slumber on sofa.

"Wanshi," Chrome's voice snapped Wanshi awake, "Care to explain why we got an offical complaint?"

"It was just some misunderstanding..." Wanshi replied.

"Is that all you are going to say?" Chrome pressed further.

"It's not much of a big deal," Wanshi said, "just about jealousy."

Looking up at the ceiling, Wanshi gave a small smile before yawning and fall back asleep.

#pgr #punishing gray raven #punishing eden #punishing: gray raven #pgr lee #pgr x reader #pgr wanshi #pgr lee x reader #pgr wanshi x reader #Request #one shot

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jamiesfootball · 1 year ago

Text

Deleted Scene

For the wonderful @alter-alterego who requested for a gift fic-

"a deleted scene: something that just isn't fitting in one of your fics, but you set it aside, hoping to make it work somewhere else" and "a fun way to repurpose some writing - especially if it was a whole "kill your babies" sort of edit that broke your heart to cut it."

-and also some other words were thrown around like hurt/comfort.

So the thing is that I uh.... did not have any deleted scenes.

So.

I wrote one!

This is a deleted scene from Jamie's pov during ch 1 of Oh God You're Gonna Get It (You Have Not Been Given Love), taking place after the conversation on the couch but before the match the next day.

I would not say it necessarily slots into place - it does not have nearly the runway to hit that level of emotional intensity. Instead, I treated it more like a character study, a way to get down a bit of my thoughts on the where Jamie is at now. Refurbishing some writing thought, if you will.

Unfortunately, I did forget some of the comfort here - but the rest of the fic will have lots of comfort so???

Anyways. Thank you for your delightful request, friend. I hope you enjoy.

When awareness crept in behind his sleep-sealed eyes, a handful of problems offered themselves up to Jamie like unwanted presents. The first was that he hadn't brushed his teeth the night before, and his mouth tasted rank and fuzzy as a result. The next, that dried blood caked the inside of his nostrils, leaving behind an unpleasant, iron-tanged stuffiness. Final and worst came a deep and throbbing pain centered around his nose, passing along the message that something was swollen, if not outright bruised.

He'd been handed these gifts before, but crucial pieces were missing from the set. In their place, he'd been given imposters. Restfulness, when it should feel like he'd run a marathon. Something content beckoning him back towards sleep, instead of a familiar set of knives stabbing him in the chest, urging him to go, get away, anywhere but here.

His head felt weighed down by wet, drooping cotton, and that was new too, and in some ways worse than the distant emptiness he'd grown to rely on. At least emptiness knew how to sort out an icepack. Or a concussion. Or whatever it was that had him feeling floaty and lost.

Where the hell was he?

He cracked open his eyes. He didn't recognize the room — which didn't mean much when everyone he knew had more house than they knew what to do with. Still, there was something familiar about it, something that quieted any lingering panic that he might've woken up in a stranger's home.

It was cozy, but clean. Dark, woodsy room with antique lamps — too tasteful for Colin, too muted for Isaac. Art too boring for Sam. Everything far too clean for Dani.

A fuzzy blanket tickled his nose. In the dim light filtering in through the windows, he could see it was covered in unicorns and rainbows, all of it swirling around in a dizzying pattern. Shutting his eyes tight, he tugged it closer; it was surprisingly warm.

The couch was comfier than his too, cradling his shoulder against the cushion instead of pushing his tendons up into his neck until all he had to show for it was a splitting headache. No, this was lush, pliable with age and use. The blanket worn soft like someone cared for it. Made it feel like this was someone's home that Jamie was invading, and that made him feel like, feel —

A sick certainty settled in his stomach that he'd regret everything more when it was light out. Morning Jamie could sort that out. He didn't envy that guy at all.

He chewed his lip, unable to stop picking at the problem. His mouth tasted sour, and the dry ache behind his eyes sang a familiar song. Nausea twisted low in his stomach, and finally there it was, the tightness circling his chest and pulling into a knot. The room smelled like beer—

"Want to grab a beer later?"

"I thought you said I couldn't have beer anymore."

"Well, you're with me, so you get a pass," Roy had said, and Jamie could've floated off the floor with how it made his chest puff up—

Oh.

This was Roy's house.

That's why his face hurt.

Jamie sighed, the building discomfort releasing in a wave of relief that left him dizzy, head floating above the soft cushions like he was balanced on a cloud.

He'd thought for a second-

He'd-

No. He'd been worried for nothing.

This was Roy's house. Made sense then, that his brain had picked up that he weren't anywhere bad. The dark furniture and the leather everything and the grainy wood; it was like the house and the man had been shaped out of the same men's catalogue from the eighties. Everything looked sturdy and settled in place.

He hadn't noticed the bright purple blanket last night, but then he couldn't have said what he did notice. They'd left the bar; everything past that was a whirlwind.

He owed Keeley an apology.

He frowned, worrying at the blanket with his thumb. He'd apologized to Roy. It'd went well, he thought. He hoped. He shouldn't get ahead of himself. He'd said a bunch of words without thinking them through first, and meaning them didn't stop it from feeling like he'd flayed some soft part of himself open with a knife and held out the scraps as a peace offering.

At least with Roy, he had a chance of being offered something back. Some reassurance, at least, that things weren't beyond repair. Whatever it was that brought that familiar growl down to something softer, still rough around the edges but not mean when he was making jokes, egging Jamie on and listening quiet thought while Jamie's thoughts spun circles across the carpet.

Letting Jamie say his peace. Accepting his apology for his behavior. Saying shit like, like he was proud of Jamie, even if Jamie hadn't done much to earn that lately.

Fuck.

And in the week since he'd sent that text to his dad, he hadn't gotten so much as a read receipt—

—which didn't mean anything, did it? Could be that he'd turned them off—

With a little shifting, he found his phone. He flicked it on, ignoring the familiar spike of panic as he did.

No new messages. Good.

Seven-percent battery life. Not good.

3:30 in the morning. Fuck.

Sighing, he switched it off. Looked like he was getting up.

He didn't move.

For once it wasn't the persistent, leaden feeling holding him down — like they'd taken every weight in the gym and tied it to his limbs when he wasn't looking. No, it was just, maybe if he didn't get up, last night wouldn't've happened.

A sickness, hot and sour, pooled in his stomach.

A week ago, he'd been at his mother's house, curled up and making the best out of whatever comfort he could drag towards him like a dying man. But this wasn't the same. He was a visitor here at best, his extended welcome debatable, and there was no one in this house obligated to brush his hair back and tell him if he was making a mistake.

Didn't mean he wouldn't take what he could get now that he'd earned his way in.

It was early. He was warm. Things hurt, but he was at Roy's. Nothing bad would find him here. Everything was fine and there were no unread messages waiting for him on his phone.

A warmed beer smell lingered in the air, musty and rank. He pushed his face further into the couch to get away from it. The couch smelled like old leather and glitter and fabric softener, and it didn't feel waxy or tacky against his skin and it molded around him like a hug. He didn't want to get up. He was tired.

He was so, so tired.

His undrunk beer sat on the table above his head. Now that he noticed the yeasty smell, it cloyed to the air, sinking into everything it touched.

He'd have to get up soon and deal with it. He had a lot of stuff to deal with. He didn't want Roy to think he couldn't handle it.

Since the boot room, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he'd gotten away with something. Roy had been nice. Too nice. The kind that had Jamie looking over his metaphoricle shoulder, waiting for the other boot to hit, because Jamie hadn't been professional about it at all. He'd collapsed in on himself, utterly crushed and incapable of hiding it another second, everything sticking and clawing out of him like a staunched wound fighting back.

But then Roy had been dead nice about it and he'd given him a pass and then he'd kept being nice and he'd invited Jamie out for a drink and Jamie had thought he was off the hook.

Knew better now, didn't he? He was on the hook, squirming as well as any other caught worm. The drinks hadn't been about Jamie, at least part of the niceness had been on loan, and his free pass had burned up in front of his eyes before he even knew he only had the one to spare.

Roy expected better of him.

That was fine. Jamie did too. He was up to the challenge; he knew what to avoid now. So in twenty minutes he’d get up. He’d take care of the beer bottles, rinse ‘em out in case Roy was one of those guys that got offended if you wasted his beer. With his phone battery low, he didn't have the juice to call for a pick up — he’d have to make the thirty-minute trek to his house. Unless he got lucky and stumbled across a taxi, that'd put him back at his own place in just under an hour. From there he’d dig out the white vinegar that he kept on hand for emergencies and see if he couldn’t buff out the stain on his chest. Stone Island wasn’t exactly his brand of choice, and they weren't interested in signing him on as a permanent brand ambassador, but they'd been pleasant to work with and they paid well and he’d only had the jacket for three days and he hadn’t been papped in it yet and it’d be fucking embarrassing for everyone involved if he went crying to them that he’d need a new one cause he’d already ruined the first one.

(He'd still do it if he had to though -- it wouldn’t be the first time a little blood threatened a brand deal.) No, one way or another he’d be getting that stain out, didn’t matter how much scrubbing it took. From there he’d inspect whatever was going on with his face. That didn’t bother him as much. Nothing felt broken, and he knew how to make himself look photo-ready for the match. All the small speed bumps sorted, he’d start in on his match day warmups. Nothing intense, just enough to loosen his muscles up.

His socked foot poked out of the bottom of the blanket. He twisted his ankle experimentally. Slowly, it cranked through the rotations, gummy and awkward like stuck hands on a clock. A lot tighter than it should be. Physios wouldn't be happy with him, but that worry came as an afterthought. He'd play the full ninety. They all knew it.

After warmups, he'd take a shower— His eyes stung, suddenly hot and warm. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. He’d take a shower; do the whole routine. Wasn’t happening again. Loud and clear. From there he’d pop round to Nelson road. Bit early, even for him, but he hoped to catch Ted before the coach got swept up in pressers and the like. He wanted to thank him, properly, for all he’d done to help Jamie and straighten him out over the years. He knew Lasso had a busy schedule and a quick turnaround to get home, and Jamie wouldn’t take up too much of his time. He just- he needed to say it. He had his fingers crossed that it’d be one of their better talks — the kind that left him feeling pleased with himself and a bit like he could float on air — instead of one of the awkward, stilted ones that fizzled out between his fingers and left him feeling wrong-footed and confused, like he'd put his elbows on the table or committed some other social fake paw that he was supposed to know about by now.

But just in case it did go like that, he'd still have said it, and he’d still have left himself plenty of time to screw his head on before the match. He was a professional after all. Give him a few minutes recovery in the storage room that wasn't Higgins' office anymore, and by the time the lads started filtering in, he’d be fine. Then they’d start the real pre-match march. Light workout and pre-game presser. Meal time, then the real warmups, the ones meant to get your blood flowing and your food settled. Cleanup, out of practice kit, into training kit. Let the physios at him again with their magic tape. Into the tunnel to mingle with the reporters: soundbites, heart-warming stories, all the patter ('Why, yes, West Ham has played a strong year, 'course I’ve got my eye on City-always do, don’t I? No I don’t give a flying fuck if Zava’s got a scorpion named after him now, fuck off—") Well hopefully no one’d ask him about Zava. Not a match had passed without some journo brining him up, but maybe the possibility of them winning the league would be enough to shut them up for once, instead of it turning into yet another retrospective on how Zava's head start was the reason the team had made it this far in the rankings. Pricks. Then it’d be speech time. Jamie didn’t understand what it was about gaffers and speeches, but they’d seemed to all agree in their mysterious gaffer ways that it was the one time you were allowed to be emotional in front of the players. Ted usually didn’t have that problem, but he certainly never shied away from the chance to one-up himself with a game day speech. It was sure to be a good one. Then nothing else would matter, cause there’d be the match. Everything made sense on the pitch.

Jamie knew what he had to do on the pitch. Nothing could touch him on the pitch.

No one was ever waiting for him on the pitch. He wondered if they won, if he’d come back to find a message on his phone. He wondered if they lost, if he’d come back to find a message on his phone. He checked his phone again. 3:50am. 6% battery. He turned off the screen and shut his eyes. In ten minutes, he’d get up. Sort out his life. Win the league. In ten minutes. Until then, he’d try to enjoy what he had. Warm blanket. A nice place to sleep. No new messages on his phone. An ankle and a nose that weren’t broken. People who’d welcomed him inside. People who'd forgiven him for his mistakes. It was enough.

He just had to make sure he didn't mess it up.

#gift fic #fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)#jamie tartt #roy kent #ted lasso fic #fuck jamie's dad #injury #fic: deleted scene

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cybernecromancer365 · 1 year ago

Text

Rollins to the Rescue 2

A.n. On an episode 19x19 writing binge...meant to post yesterday, but I fell asleep while editing it.

Part 1 here

Alex walked into the Lieutenant’s oﬃce and set the salad in its fancy takeout box on Liv's desk. "Courtesy of Rollins."

Olivia looked up. Even with age and dark rimmed glasses that almost matched her own, Alex saw the same Liv she fell in love with what seemed like forever ago.

"You...went to eat with Rollins? That's...unexpected."

"She said some things I needed to hear."

"Alex, I'm sorry about the case—"

"We didn’t talk about the case."

Olivia took her glasses off, her brow furrowing over a bewildered gaze. "What is it?"

Olivia's eyes searched hers and Alex felt herself faltering at the concern in Olivia's voice. She missed seeing Olivia's softer side, and hearing her name said in that disarming tone. "Can I...talk to you…alone—"

"Sure, close the door."

Alex shook her head. "No, later. What I have to say will take too long."

"Sure, whe—"

The phone on Olivia's desk rang, and Olivia picked it up. "Benson." She suddenly switched personas, answering with a stern tone. "What?" Her face paled. "Now?" Her jaw clenched as she listened to the call. "Where?" She stood, and Alex caught her breath as Olivia pulled out a desk drawer and grabbed her gun, putting it in the holster at her hip. "I'm on my way." She hung up the phone quick, a little too rough as it clattered against the receiver. She snatched her jacket from the coat rack and rounded her desk.

"What is it?" Alex felt her worry and only imagined it showed on her face. "Something related to the case—"

"No. Hostage situation." Olivia slipped on her jacket. "One of our repeat offenders escaped his prison detail. He’s held up in one of his victim’s homes, and...he's already shot two civilians."

Alex watched Olivia get ready, feeling her heart beat match the hurried tempo of Olivia's haste.

"He's saying he'll make a deal if he speaks with us."

“A-And you’re just marching off to meet his demands?"

Olivia grabbed the door handle and Alex grabbed her arm without thinking it through.

"Are you crazy?"

Olivia shot a confused look Alex's way, her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to decipher the moment. 'What the fuck Alex?' Olivia wouldn't say it out loud but that's what her eyes said, and it wasn't the first time Alex got that look. That look meant "back off and let me do my job," but Alex couldn't shake the thought swirling in her head. It made dread gather in her stomach. What if this happened to be the last time she saw Olivia alive?

Maybe fate had strung together a cruel plot, and only now did she see it.

First, she returned to a city she hadn't permanently resided in for years. Then, on a whim Olivia found her. A few moments later and Olivia would've arrived to an empty parking lot.

Then, after an unsuccessful end to their case and another fight with Olivia, Rollins jumped in to save their relationship just as they were about to go their separate ways, again. And now, when she was ready to confess, Olivia was out the door, heading to what could be her doom. It all lined up too perfectly.

"Since when is it the lieutenant’s duty to rush into the field anyway?” Alex pushed.

“I’m responsible for this department—”

“Great, send someone else—”

“Now’s not the time for this Alex.” Olivia opened the door. “We can talk when I get back.”

Alex grabbed her shoulder.

"Alex I don't have for th—"

Now or never. Alex pulled Olivia in and kissed her, right in the office doorway. A jolt rushed down her back and she pulled away with a wide gaze, her hand tight around Olivia's arm as she resisted the urge to kiss her again.

Olivia looked just as shellshocked but regained her composure quickly, not once glancing to the squadroom that came to a sudden standstill. Olivia clenched her jaw and swallowed the lump in her throat, looking down with a small nod, her only acknowledgement before she freed her arm from Alex's grip and left the room, sliding on her game face.

Alex stood in the doorway, catching Fin’s growing smile; Rollins attempting to turn to her desk and act engrossed in her work as Olivia stormed past.

"Don't get cozy Rollins. You're with me." Olivia called out, crossing the squadroom with fire in her steps.

Rollins stood quick, gathering blazer. "Wasn't expecting that." Rollins said and flashed Alex a proud smile before she rushed out after Olivia.

#cabenson #olivia benson #alex cabot #law and order svu #svu #my dumb headcanons

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guiltiestlove · 3 months ago

Note

Pretty nsfw downbelow-

Topping Klavier and doing c*ckwarming to him while he is tied up and gagged as a punishment for being a brat aaaaa

Your boyfriend, Klavier Gavin, needs to be punished, but for him this is more like a reward.

Klavier Gavin x fem!reader, ~1000 words

N/SFW, mdni!!

cws/tags: smut ofc, reader with vagina + breasts, fingering, bondage, ball gag, cockwarming, edging, dom/sub, femdom

notes: had a loooot of fun with this one, i could have kept writing and editing this forever LOL

“Tsk, tsk.” Klavier looked at you with a kind of pleading desperation that only he could make look so attractive. Even in this pitiful state, overjoyed to be getting punished like this, he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen. It was almost tempting enough to untie and ungag him and let him have his way with you. Almost. But it was too delicious having him like this. And there was a reason he loved acting like such a brat.

”What did I say about trying to get out of the chair, baby boy?” All you could hear was a low grumble as the man tried to flick the hair out of his face, which was a lot harder when he didn’t have his hands to use.

You closed the distance between you two, and he looked up desperately at you towering over his naked body. He was unable to move, totally at your mercy.

“Oh does the poor thing need some help?” you sighed as you leaned forward making sure Klavier couldn’t miss the way your breasts looked pressed together in your lingerie. He whimpered as you moved the bangs out of his eyes and swept your fingers across his cheek. Gently grabbing his face and leaning it to the side, you sweetly kissed up his neck to nibble at his ear. His toned chest couldn’t help but rise and fall at a rapid pace from the sensation.

“Are you going to be a good boy now? All you have to do is obey, mein Liebling.” He squirmed at this new tactic. “Kannst du das machen?” you cooed at the disheveled man. He was submitting whether he wanted to or not. He fell into your trap every time. But truthfully he loved floating away like this after putting up one of his little fights. “Aww, sehr gut,” you purred as you ran a thumb across his bottom lip, and you caught his eyes following you lazily.

Painfully slowly you pulled down your panties, stepping out of them carefully in your heels. “Behave and I might let you touch yourself with these later,” and you threw them to the floor, watching your lover’s mouth water at the thought.

Suddenly planting your high heel on his chair, you positioned yourself so he could enjoy the view. Muffled groans tried to escape his gagged mouth as his head rolled around in desperation and his brows furrowed. You just laughed and grabbed his chin, forcing his head to stay still and totally focus on your pussy.

“If you didn’t mouth off so much, maybe you’d get to do this.” You swirled two fingers around your mouth and slowly reached between your folds making sure that Klavier watched every second. You noticed his hands try to wriggle out of his restraints—such fruitless venture.

You continued with a sly smile, “Mmm Klav… God it feels so good.” As you circled your clit with soft strokes you made sure to let your boyfriend know what he was missing out on. His head began to droop to the side, looking up to your face in an attempt to inch closer to you.

“Not yet, mein Engel,” and you simply guided his head back to watch your fingers work. His eyes were crinkling with unspoken pleas.

“Aaah, baby… I’m so wet, fuck. Look at what you do to me.” Klavier was sweating now, and his cock was leaking, practically begging to be touched. You watched a couple tears fall down his cheeks—oh, he was so easy to rile up.

Working yourself open, you stared open mouthed at your entranced lover. “Need more, hhh, baby, can you help?” His cock twitched and your smile turned up even more—you couldn’t have possibly looked more devilish. ��Perfekt.”

As you moved to straddle him you grabbed his shoulders, placing his face almost where it could touch your breasts. “Such a shame my baby can’t behave… a shame for you anyway.” From his eyelids, to his shoulders, Klavier’s entire form was sagging, having trouble just focusing on sitting up.

“Be a good boy, and I’ll let you come wherever you want. Hmm, would you like that?” You sat straddled over his lap, where your pussy hovered tantalizingly close to his cock. Drool was leaking out of both sides of his gagged mouth at this point, he was so pliant, so willing. “Mmm, you can be such a good boy, can’t you?” You stroked his hair, and a lazy nod was his only response.

You lifted yourself up positioning his cock at your vagina, and began rubbing your clit with it. “Mein Liebling, mein schatzi, ja?“ You drew out your words to make them as agonizing as possible. Even with the gag you could hear his desperate whimpering, and his thighs were trembling underneath you.

Grabbing a bottle of lube from the table beside you, you made a show of squeezing a sizable amount and rubbing up and down Klavier’s shaft. His breath was becoming more labored and his muscles flexed even more from his involuntary movements. You watched his jaw try to clench, to no avail. He always put up such a beautiful struggle.

With a kiss to his cheek, you slowly began settling yourself down onto him with a satisfied groan. The sweat that was beginning to bead on your lover’s forehead reminded you of how he looked on stage. But here he was just yours. A perfect performance just for you. You watched his eyes roll back in his head as you took more of him slowly, slowly until you were flush against his balls. Fuck, his cock really was made perfectly for you.

While he was completely out of breath, you were just getting started, and you wrapped your arms around his neck settling in for a long night. “You fill me up so well, Klavier, so perfect. Now be a doll and let me relax.” You began playing with his long hair nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, and he was practically in heaven.

His head was getting fuzzy, and he felt all his worries floating away, only you. Only you touching him, clenching around him, praising him. He’d do anything for this. Anything for this moment, anything to feel your touch, anything for you to let him fill you up until you were leaking. And most of all anything to show he really could be your obedient, perfect boy. All yours.

#my writing #nsft #mdni #klavier gavin nsft #klavier gavin smut #klavier gavin x reader #klavier gavin x you #klavier gavin x y/n #writing requests #anons welcome #⛓️🎸#ace attorney nsft #ace attorney smut

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arcielee · 1 year ago

Text

Interview With a Writer

I know I usually do Ewanverse or HotD, but I fell in love with this story. Thank you @bhxrdy for indulging me and answering my questions. 💜 As always, Interview With a Writer is my ongoing series of the talented souls on Tumblr and ao3, and their brilliant writing!

Dividers by @saradika

Name: bhxrdy

Story: timeless

Paring: modern Finan x original female character

Warnings: Explicit/18+, be mindful of chapter warnings!

So, when did you start writing?

I started really writing, like 10 years ago now - right into 2013. I had discovered and gotten very into (I'm shy to say) k-pop, and at the time, social media was new to me. I had joined a couple of forums here and there, but really got into the thick of it once I joined Twitter and Tumblr. It was also then - for the 1st time - that I found out about fanfiction, which was an unfamiliar concept to me.

Its a bit blurry, but I remember I started reading a few stories here and there about my fave group at the time and - I don't remember the specifics but - I had eventually started coming up with wild scenarios, small ideas here and there, that I wanted to put down on paper.

Writing in general was relatively new to me (a few years before, when I was in high school, I was writing "poems" and other notes in a massive emo-like notebook - all because of a boy of course), so the idea of creating something substantial, like the fics I had read so far, was a bit terrifying but also kind of exciting because I stumbled on something brand new to me and was dying to be part of it along with some new online friends I had made (which I unfortunately lost touch with over the years).

Within the span of 2013-2015, I wrote 28 stories (on a 3rd party site) - a mix of one shots and multi-chaptered fics, which includes 2 unfinished stories - which were left to die by 2017-2018. I had finished school and started working, which totally changed my routine. The lack of interactions in the fandom didn't help either as by then, it was pretty much dying from the band's moving on and eventually disbanding. The stories are still there, my account is still there, as I don't have the heart to take it down. I've spent so much time on them, and loved every genre I wrote. I either went fluffly fluff or super angst and dark, all of them fun to write.

After that I moved away from the fandom as well and just the k-pop scene in general. I took a hiatus from writing altogether too - the will of it had died so I mostly focused on editing. And then, I started back again in 2020, wrote a couple of stuff on Tumblr (for the 1st time) until I stopped again a few months later. The inspiration stopped and I just couldn't bring myself to write anymore. So I moved away.

And then this year, TLK happened and I just had the inspiration back on the tip of my fingers, just swirling in my brain and was dying to write it down, so I gave it another shot and wrote my first Finan fanfic. It was very rusty getting back into it after so long but I'm glad I did because I got to meet amazing people which I'm grateful for.

I have a tendency of daydreaming a lot, I can easily get lost it my own head. Finding out I could actually just write them down, liberating everything I held up and see them face to face vs. just thinking about them, became a whole new ball game.

Where did the plot for timeless come from?

It hit me out of nowhere and happened when I was re-watching The Originals (TVD spin off). I'm not sure how, but it physically/literally stopped me in my tracks (mind you I wasn't doing anything special, just going to the kitchen to get a snack) as if I was hit on the head with it, like, "Yes! omg! shit! this is it!!"

I immediately picked up my phone and started typing random thoughts and notes down for the story. It was very rough, just generalized ideas of what could happen. Some of those ideas did change trajectory from where they started, but I'm hoping they were good changes and worth the story telling 😊

Watching The Originals helped with the inspiration. I knew Finan was always meant to be cursed, I just had to figure out the best way to present it. I also drew inspiration from other witch shows like Charmed, A Discovery of Witches, and BTVS. I love anything related to the supernatural and witchcraft, so it was fun coming up with the initial layout of the story.

At the beginning, I debated if it should be a one-shot or multi-chapter based on how much I had come up with. I was 99% sure I would stick with the one-shot, but eventually the 1% took over and I just went from there...the lines took a life of their own.

Explain your interpretation of Finan. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in timeless?

I was mostly trying to stay true to how his character was built on the show and transport that in writing within the concept of the story (I'm sure I've strayed, but hopefully that's alright).

When we first meet Finan, he's infiltrated modern day life as if he was part of that world, always. Then he meets a woman on a random night and everything changes for him.

Thinking of it this way, the man has been by himself for a thousand years - the life he knew, his family, his friends - everything from his past has disappeared and he is all alone, and so he was just at this point in his existence where he was done with everything, partly discouraged from being immortal, partly begrudgingly accepting of his fate as a man who will never die.

But then he meets Rebecca, a woman who has no inkling whatsoever of who Finan is, i.e. their meet up was random passing of time in the(ir) universe. Once they meet, his life alters. She was the light at the end of a tunnel, she was a beacon of hope. Meeting her, befriending her - he found purpose again. He was ready to fight again, to live like a normal man again.

Throughout the story, I tried to focus on this aspect specifically - on the basis that he is hopeful to become a free man again. And though, there is conflict within himself, to the point he was ready to give up again, I'd like to think that Rebecca was simply someone he needed in his life. Not because of what she could do for him, but because of who she was, as a character, as a person to him. She put her life on hold for him and in return, the universe gave them something that everyone wants - to love and be loved and not be so alone in the world.

Finan, having been alone for a century, found his drive through Rebecca - through her presence, always standing by his side and fighting for him. Them falling in love was an added bonus.

Do you feel Rebecca/Bex complement Finan in this?

I would like to think that she does, because she gave him a new spark into his life, allowing him to feel truly alive again - which was something he had been deprived off since his original lifetime (i.e. since the TLK era).

With Bex's stubbornness driving him insane at times, I think it also helped him on the hope aspect - she was willing to go to the ends of the earth for him, for someone she had just met all because she wanted to make things right, to help him (a stranger, when they met) find peace. She wasn't reluctant about it nor did he even ask for help (he was the apprehensive/suspicious one). And I believe, at the end of the day, it all came down to how they felt about each other from the night they met. They unintentionally nurtured a connection they created until it became so immense, they ended up wearing it naturally, like a second skin.

Not only was she his anchor to the world of the living, Bex had become the part of him that died a long time ago. This makes me believe - in a some kind of weird way - that she was his soulmate. That, despite the heaviness of the curse, Finan was meant to cross path with her, that the(ir) universe gave him a break in the form of a kind-hearted and stubborn as a mule witch. A woman who would end up gifting him a second chance, and the opportunity to experience the good aspect of life again (as well as love).

Where did the dreams and the curse lore come from?

The dreams part of the story was inspired by The Originals, as there is the concept of the “other side” where non-resting souls are (the cemetery/graveyard scene description was inspired by the one they have on the show) - so I leveraged it and made it so Bex was forced into contact with another witch while sleeping instead of through a spell (as she had no reason to contact the dead while awake).

For the curse, I knew what I wanted out of it as it was already part of the original draft when I first came up with this story idea. I knew where it was taking me and how I would want it built - the reasoning behind it though was a bit if the tough part which I had also integrated into the storyline with Bex losing her shit over it.

Any chance of a sequel? Or do have anything else you are working on next?

So, unfortunately no sequel. But it does not mean I haven't thought of an epilogue - or kind of. Just random scenes with Bex of what life is after the ending that randomly play out in my head. I don't think I'll want to write them mostly because I want to keep the ending as is.

I'm working through a few other stories at the moment. The priority ones are for Osferth (a one-chaptered drabble for your 1k celebration, and a multi-chaptered fic which will also tap into the supernatural concept), which I am hoping to get started - officially - very soon!

I have some others dangling as well, which should eventually come soon as well - this includes Finan, Sihtric and Aemond.

Do you have a personal favorite story you'd like to share?

There are so many to choose from! We Were Something, Don't You Think? by Maggie (@inthedayswhenlandswerefew), as well as Comet Donati and Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep?

Some other favorites include Wolf-Heart by @gemini-mama, Crimes of Passion by @itbmojojoejo, Sanctuary by @st-eve-barnes, and Winterwood by @lonnson

There is also a myriad of Finan x Aisling (OFC) fics by @persephones-journey which are heart-wrenching and good.

And Fire in Her Eyes by @emilyhufflepufftlk is another amazing one for Finan fans.

#interview with a writer #iwaw #iwaw18 #bts #of their brilliant writing #writing community

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fallen-in-dreams · 9 months ago

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CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

Hiya. Hope you're all doing well. :) So, I'm back. And this story is almost done. But I won't be updating every week - it'll be more like 1 or 2 weeks. The reason:

Sometimes chapters just want to get longer and longer and we really have no choice in the matter.

Unlike the last time I wrote out a fic in draft form then posted each chapter a week apart as I edited them, this story is trying to drive me crazy. 4k chapters turned into 6-9k and now THIS chapter is 11k. My editing process is squeezing that number count for all it's worth and it became so much of a chore. I really needed that New Year's break. So yeah, I'm going to slow it down a LITTLE bit. So I don't let it annoy me too much.

And I hope each and every one of you will join me for the rest of the ride. I can't wait to see what you guys think about what's coming. Cheers. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

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… Chapter Eleven: To Kiss or Not to Kiss. ...

.:.

Oh love, believe me, Nothing ever comes to us easy, The river's never run up to meet me, Gotta find your own way down

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

Gaara stopped trying to figure women out a long time ago.

His argument with Sakura Haruno that morning weighed heavily on him all day. Whenever Gaara found a quiet moment or his mind would wander, images of pure fury and betrayal hounded him. Her pretty face screwed up in indignation and misery. He couldn’t get over the fact that Sakura had truly thought he was wilfully keeping her from her friends. It was just for a few moments but the level of pain that vibrated through her body still scared him.

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

So, he stewed in self-doubt all day, moving on autopilot as he went from council meetings to the lonely hours stuck working through tedious mission reports and high-level security reviews. Councillor Tōjūrō wanted this. Councillor Sajō insisted on that. And Councillor Ebizō inquired about their mutual concerns, via the not-so-silent Anbu they both trusted.

Gaara was beyond relieved when the working day ended, and he was able to leave. Most days, he stayed until late, and other times he simply took his work home. It had not escaped his notice that he worked too much. But what else was there? All he had outside of work were his siblings, and they had their own lives to deal with. So, most of the time, he had no-one.

And now her.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she called up to their house guest. “Dinner’s ready!”

Gaara clasped his hands together to hide the trembling of his fingers when Sakura finally descended the internal staircase for dinner. He forced himself to blink heavily to keep his vision from zoning out. Nerves and anticipation like he’d never felt before plagued him. It took all his willpower to keep from groaning in frustration at the strange feelings.

He watched pensively as Sakura sat down delicately. Swallowing heavily.

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“Date her, talk to her, and try to figure out how we can help her in the meantime.”

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

As the culinary genius of the family, Kankuro had cooked another magnificent meal. He was still in the kitchen, putting on the final touches as Temari started talking about how her own day had been. Since her decision to stay in the village she’d taken over the management of the guards and patrols of the village. Gaara didn’t know if she was trying to improve it or just scare them into line. Regardless, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he gave her free reign to do (almost) whatever she wanted to them.

Temari stood to help Kankuro lay the food on the table. Sakura was staring at a spot close to the internal staircase, her fingers drumming softly on the table.

“Go get that date organised.”

Planning outings was not his thing. He’d never asked anyone on a date before. Expectation hung in the air.

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

Dinner had always been a stiff but amicable affair. Every night, they’d sit around the main dining table to partake in one of Kankuro’s chef-level delights, talk would be minimal because they’d be enjoying the food too much to ruin the moment. But inevitably, someone would say something pointedly, and a casual, intermittent conversation would take place. Before Temari’s return, conversation would be carried by Kankuro’s attempts to make Sakura feel welcomed, strained as they were. Gaara would interject when he felt it necessary, with the occasional input from Sakura when addressed directly.

Since Temari’s return, his sister had not just driven the conversation, but wrenched it sideways and taken complete control of the reins. He wondered if was solely because of Sakura’s presence or a familiarity due to her connections to Temari’s former lover. Which begged the question of how much the pinkette knew about his fate.

Gaara gave a deep sigh that did not go unnoticed by the room at large. It all came down to lovers and friends and family, in the end. They were what truly mattered. Sakura coughed lightly and he glanced at her. Conversation would normally pick up at this point, but the air was unusually tense. He blamed himself.

Gaara hadn’t meant to hurt her by keeping the knowledge of her former allies from her. It hadn’t been vindictive. He just did not know where they were. He had his theories, of course, but nothing solid enough to act on. And this bothered him more than he could admit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or rather, Temari and Kankuro did, though they both paused a few times to glance at each other, like they were planning something. Temari had shifted to the edge of the seat, an eager look on her face. Sakura was pushing her food around on the plate, not eating. Like himself. Gaara had only taken a few bites before realising he wasn’t even hungry. And Kankuro was digging in, with gusto.

When Temari broke the silence, Gaara was grateful. For all of five seconds. Then he conjured a mental image of his hands strangling her.

“So…” She looked between Gaara and Sakura as she spoke. “It turns out one of the council members is a traitor, likely in cahoots with Danzo.”

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference that he didn’t buy for a second. She’d been trying to convince him to let Sakura in on his ultimate plans for the Leaf Resistance, the future of Suna, and this Cold War. His sister wanted too much. He told her so. He’d been telling her so. But now, the decision was out of his hands. Sakura wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Kankuro put his cutlery down and leaned back, watching quietly. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes. Gaara could almost hear him thinking, well this should be interesting.

Sakura stopped playing with her food and looked up at Temari after side eyeing Gaara. He braced himself.

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

“Through Lord Ebizō,” Temari said without hesitation. “Apparently, he’s been working with Gaara here.” She pointed her thumb at him as he scowled back at her. “They’ve found–”

“Temari.”

Kankuro made a soft sound the was halfway between a scoffed and snicker. Nobody paid him any mind.

Gaara glared at his sister. “She doesn’t need to know.”

She won’t be able to handle it, went unsaid.

He was aware of the insult to her person, but he couldn’t help himself. Kazekage or not, Sakura was under his care. She wasn’t one of his ninja. She was in no way his subordinate. Or professional equal. And as such, she was not to be privy to sensitive village information. He could not take responsibility for that. It was enough that he’d given Temari and Kankuro the highest security clearance legally possible for them simply because they were family. And the fact that they could handle it was beside the point.

This wasn’t a matter of trust. Sakura just wasn’t like them. Not anymore.

The pinkette scowled at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gaara sat up straighter. He matched her glare with one of his own. It was to be a battle of the wills, then.

.:.

Sakura did not pull her eyes from Gaara while Temari continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted.

“As you would know, communications between different Kage are always done in code or with a Kage-only sealing jutsu.”

Sakura nodded still staring at the Kazekage. She’d seen Tsunade pen letters to other Kage numerous times in both ways. Shizune had been a pro at transcribing the Hokage’s frustrated and eye-twitching candour to something more diplomatic. Sakura had never quite mastered that skill. Where Shizune excelled, Sakura fell behind. Where Sakura shined, Shizune’s skills were lacking. In that way, they’d complimented each other as Tsunade’s most trusted aides.

“Well,” Kankuro added, breaking his own silence. “Lord Ebizō came to Gaara with copies of transcribed missives that had deletion points in them.”

Sakura nodded again. A deletion point was exactly as it sounded. Information that was sent to Danzo must have been deleted at Suna’s end but not Konoha’s. It was off the record information. The only legitimate reason to delete parts of a message on the official, final copy, was for Kage level reasons. And this was clearly a deletion that Gaara had been unaware of.

What it even meant, she couldn’t say. But there was another problem.

“How…” she started softly, fighting to keep her staring match with the redhead. “How did he find it?”

It was a dangerous thing to do, but also difficult to detect. One might say damn near impossible, considering they shouldn’t have a reason for even looking for it. And whomever discovered the deletion point would have to be exceptionally skilled at Cryptanalysis. At the very least. Had it been Ebizō himself?

Temari answered her unasked question. “A new jounin found it. He wasn’t supposed to be there, apparently. Was just covering a shift for a friend. He’s listed primarily as a sensor ninja but apparently started his prior chunin career as a Cryptanalysis specialist.”

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who made the deletions.”

Of course. Sakura would be surprised if he had. So, this jounin had gone to Ebizō instead of the Kazekage? Maybe because it had been a Kage level security issue, he’d instead gone to the only person whose reputation was both impeccable as well as unquestionable.

“But how does that mean a council member did it?” Was she missing something?

It was Kankuro’s turn to answer. “Nobody in this room but Gaara could do it and we know he didn’t. The next line of suspects are the senior members of the council. Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō are the senior advisors who legally have access to Kage level information. Officially, anyway.”

Because of course the Kazekage reserves the right to not inform them of anything if he doesn’t want to.

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

Sakura blinked heavily. So, it could’ve been Ebizō but wasn’t, because he brought it to Gaara’s attention. So, he was the only one they could trust. Almost as though this whole thing was a test that Gaara had set up to suss out the reliability of his subordinates. Except that he couldn’t have predicted this jounin’s inclusion. It would’ve been a piss poor test if nobody found it.

Sakura tapped her chin staring back into Gaara’s seafoam eyes with something akin to calmness. Almost like she was a real person having a legitimate conversation.

Well, look at me, acting like a normal, functioning person. What would my mirror image hallucination think about that?

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

She didn’t know anything about Ryūsa beyond some murmuring that he might lead the council one day. Tōjūrō was a complete mystery. But Sajō? Oh, Councillor Sajō she knew. That was a face she’d never forget, the arrogant, pompous, prick. She had fantasies about strangling him with his own intestines on a daily basis. If she could, she would.

Her eyes drifted as Sakura imagined, once again, the choking sounds of the older man as she throttled him. It took a few more seconds and a clearing of Gaara’s throat before she scowled, realising what had just happened. In her distraction, she’d accidentally broke eye contact with him. When she looked back at him, the Kazekage was looking smug.

Shit.

.:.

Gaara couldn’t contain his smirk as Sakura broke their staring contest. Something clunking around in her brain had distracted her.

Good.

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.” Sakura mumbled to herself once more, angling her body away from Gaara and his gaze. He kept watching, his face falling into a frown as she ignored him.

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

Sakura pulled a face. “I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of being hounded by him. He’s an arsehole.”

“His personality is not evidence,” Gaara intervened, and she glared at him before turning away again.

Sakura pursed her lips. “I know it’s him.”

“Okay.” His brother was driving Gaara crazy. Temari added to the frustration by echoing his words.

He couldn’t sit here and allow this anymore. “No,” he said.

Sakura clenched her fists, her eyes darting over to the corner of the room; she’d jumped slightly, but there was nothing there to startle her. Sometimes, Gaara wondered about that. Hallucinations.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said.

It was a wonder his sanity was still intact, dealing with her. She slammed her fists down on the table, dislodging silverware and making his siblings jump out of their skins, but not so hard as to damage the structural integrity of the furniture.

“You promised,” she said scathingly, glaring openly at him, and he was reminded of their argument that morning. “You said you would tell me–”

“I said that we’ll talk later,” he corrected her.

“About the Leaf Resistance!” She yelled and Temari and Kankuro’s heads whipped towards Gaara. He could feel their confusion and surprise but ignored them. “About what you’re doing! You said we should talk. We need to talk. So, let’s talk damn it!”

“This cipher talk isn’t about the Resistance,” he growled. “Nor is the traitor councillor.”

“Do you know that for sure?” She snapped. “Or are you just presuming? What if it’s all connected, Gaara? What if none of it is a coincidence?” She was on a roll now, taking a deep breath before charging into her new hypothesis with gusto. “Danzo doesn’t want a strong alliance with Suna, and we all know it. I’m not actually here to marry you! What if my mission is part of a larger plan? Sending a Root member with me when those tiny little fucking bastards are not actually trained in diplomacy? You have to admit that’s suspicious! So, what if his connection with this traitor has something to do with the Resistance? Or to undermine Suna because he already has a highly connected ally within your walls! What if it’s all connected? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Gaara blinked heavily at her. Her deduction was quite the stretch. But crazier things had happened and he couldn’t think of a valid counter point, so he would be remiss to completely rule it out. He sighed. But this wasn’t the place to discuss this.

“I can help,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. He didn’t respond. “He won’t expect anything from me.”

“We don’t even know it’s him,” Gaara said. He was fighting with himself as much as her. He didn’t want to push her out of this, but it was political. And she wasn’t a Suna native. It wouldn’t be treason, but it would be dangerous. For both of them.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

He had no clue. Sakura’s face scrunched up as though she was in pain and her head dipped. She closed her eyes and he imagined she was struggling to calm herself. Was she having a panic attack? Gaara felt a similar spasm grasp his chest at the thought of having done this to her.

I can’t do anything right, with her.

She stood up abruptly, not looking at anyone. Her hands were balled into fists and Gaara’s stomach clenched painfully. Guilt. He felt the urge to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving this room angry. But nothing came to mind. He sat there, with his mouth slightly agape, unable to say the things she needed to hear.

Why?

There was a war in Gaara’s heart. The urge to protect her. The urge to respect her desire to participate. The urge to keep her far from the machinations of the evil of this world. He felt like he was being torn in too many different directions. But he knew that above all, he was being incredibly selfish.

With no regard for her uneaten dinner, Sakura stormed out.

He couldn’t release the groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. Gaara remembered he still had an audience and turned his head minutely to glance at them. Temari was frowning at him, her fingers tapping the table soundlessly. Kankuro was shaking his head, his lips twisted in barely controlled irritation. Gaara let that effervescent groan escape his mouth. He was an arsehole. He knew it. Because his siblings had never looked at him with so much disappointment before. Even when he let a demon out to play havoc on their village as a blood thirsty child.

.:.

When will I ever learn?

She was too emotional. Always had been. Weak. Pathetic. Emotional little girl. Expected too much of others. Presumed too much of herself. Stupid.

Sakura stormed up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door closed. She didn’t stop there, grabbing the cactus Matsuri and Yukata had given her (what else did she have?) and throwing it against the wall. Not the back of the door. No, not the chronicle of her timeline in Suna.

Soil spilled onto the floor, but the succulent remained firmly in the pot. The hardy bastard.

She let out a long-winded, slightly high-pitched groan. One minute Gaara was open and treating her like a human being and the next, looking down on her and breaking his promises. She felt so childish, but Sakura didn’t care. She wanted to rage and yell and pound some faces into the ground. She let her anger broil and seethe as she turned and threw herself at the bed. Head in the middle and feet dangling over the edge, she screamed into the blanket for all she was worth.

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

It was best to muffle her more violent urges. Noisy. Yes. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her screaming and to come running. If they would even. She scoffed. Sakura groaned, then rolled onto her back, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to suffocate herself. It wouldn’t be the first attempt since her arrival at Suna.

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

Sakura gripped the pillow harder, closed her eyes tightly and then screamed again. The muffled sound only made her ears pop. She sighed and sat up wearily. She needed to stop doing this to herself. After so long alone, Sakura had started to think she was a part of something. Maybe something special. Probably just something not toxic. Not dangerous. Kankuro was personable. Temari seemed genuinely happy to see her. But Gaara… fuck, she had to stop wanting more from him.

She shook herself and stood up as the mirage floated into the room, through that blasted window. Sakura’s heart raced and she shivered. Had the temperature dropped suddenly or was she just feeling the aftereffects of her panic attack? She watched as the mirage as it turned on the spot and seemed to only just notice her, glowering now.

“I hate you,” she said with conviction. I really do.

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

Its smile was cruel. Sakura closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed; hands fisted on her thighs.

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

She wanted to cry. A choked sob escaped her before she could stop it. No. She was in control of this. Sakura threw her pillow at the mirage. And of course it sailed right through that smug, broken, and bloodied face. It was happy and angry at the same time. How could something that wasn’t even real hold any emotions at all?

“Are you even trying to escape this stupid hell hole?”

No, apparently Sakura had completely forgotten she wanted out of Suna. How long had it been? She paused in her internal debate to glance at the back of her bedroom door.

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

Between wanting in on Gaara’s schemes and her ink creatures, Sakura still had no idea what she was doing. Her creations had scouted the village outskirts and even memorised the guard positions and patrol routes. There was no predictability to times, but the places were all the same. It was something to work with, at least. But it was getting her nowhere.

Twenty-five days and all she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Gaara didn’t want her help. Her creatures had probably escaped this hell hole, leaving her behind. There was nothing to do. Nothing but sit in her room like a good girl and wait out whatever plan Gaara and his siblings had. Once the traitor had been identified and proven they could then tackle the political mess Danzo had Suna entrenched in. And Sakura would be free.

And this time I’ll run.

She’d kill the Root shadow and run. Sakura grasped at her chest, grinning despite the hole in her heart. She didn’t notice the single tear at first. It contained all her hopes for being human again. She wiped at it, not sure what to think of it. But she was spared that particular, repetitive self-flagellation at the abrupt sound of a hiss. She started, spinning around quickly. Her kunai was still in the hole in the windowsill. Conveniently between her and the source of the disturbance.

I really need a better hiding place.

Or multiple kunai dipped in poison. Yes, that would be better. More kunai, more targets. She smiled ruefully at that, her focus snapping to the window. She breathed a sigh of relief when there was no attack but rather the shadows of familiar shapes.

They’re finally back.

The ink creatures. The vulture-like bird and viper shaped snake. They slid into the room through the open window, moving in tandem. Between the two of them they had a death grip on something. Something distinctly snake-shaped and presumably dead. A wide grin spread over her face, and they halted their movements.

“Yes,” she hissed. She inched toward them as the ink bird hopped impatiently, releasing its own grip. When she touched the real snake softly, the ink snake twisted its body, tightening its hold on the carcass. The snake was indeed dead. She sighed, relieved. That would make this much easier. The chemical make-up of venom did not change after the snake died. So, theoretically, she should be able to extract the venom and use it, no problem.

Sakura vividly remembered a description of the milking process from a snake husbandry book during her genin days in Konoha.

Press down on the back of the snake’s head after it bites the container. The fangs will drip out venom for at least fifteen to twenty seconds.

Those instructions had been for a live snake. She cocked her head at the dead one as it was still being half-heartedly strangled by living ink, at her feet. Well, hopefully its deceased status wouldn’t make a difference other than ease of access. Hopefully.

Do I do this now?

Normally, she’d wait for the other occupants of the household to go to bed before doing something she didn’t want to be walked in on doing. Right now, standing, staring, and contemplating her sanity carried a high risk of interruption.

Sakura glanced up at the clock. She’d only been back in the room for almost two minutes. It felt far longer. She sighed, resigned, and shooed her hand at the ink creatures. Trying to corral cats would be easier. They just sat and stared at her. Or rather, the snake remained motionless except for the occasional tightening of its possessive grip and the bird cocked its head at her. Much like she’d done a moment ago. Not that it made a difference if they suddenly started towards the bathroom or something, to keep out of sight. And this whole thing would be far safer if she waited, anyway. She’d already been waiting two days for their return to begin, what was a few more hours?

Still feels like I’ve been pacing impatiently for far longer.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions had settled. She felt so drained. But not exhausted. There was an old meditation technique that Lady Tsunade had taught her, and she was just scooting back further onto the bed to try it when Sakura paused, startled by the sudden rush of chakra.

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

“Is he here to apologise?” She’d forgotten about the mirage. Its singsong, mocking voice floated over to her. “I don’t think so.”

She inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sudden hiccupping sob that sounded from her mouth. All the anger and fear and feelings of resentment and abandonment that had just disappeared, all the tension in her body, suddenly returned with a vengeance. How could one person, so innately collected and calm, invoke such a raging storm inside her? She hated it. And right now, she hated him.

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

Fuck the mirage. She wanted Gaara to leave her alone. But she also wanted him to persist. To show her she was worth the effort. That he cared. Sakura wiped at her tears and attempted to make her face look presentable. Maybe he would give up. In that case the only person who would see her tears was herself.

He knocked again.

“Sakura?” That deep, soft voice. Gods.

What is he doing to me?

.:.

Moonlight filtered in through her window as Sakura stared at the door. The ink creatures twittered and hissed, respectively, nearby and she wasn’t ready for Gaara to see them.

“Think he’ll actually call you crazy this time?”

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

Right, he was still outside her room. She fought the urge to flee. It had been her default state since arriving in Suna and it was beyond exhausting.

And embarrassing.

She glanced at the snake and bird before slowly opening the door half a foot and holding tightly to the frame to keep him from pushing it open. If he had such a notion. Sakura forced herself to look him in the eye.

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

He nodded but before Gaara could respond, Sakura moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his chest, keeping her eyes on his. Pale green irises widened but he didn’t complain. Feeling more confident, Sakura pushed him gently and closed the door behind herself. In the hallway. Alone. Together. Her other hand found its way to his chest and Sakura felt his heart beat a little faster under her fingertips.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, her voice low and strong. Maybe. She had no idea. It just had to be strong enough to project confidence. Conviction she missed about her past herself. She was trying, really. “Let’s go to the roof.”

His eyes searched hers wordlessly, clearly trying to figure out what her plan was. What she was thinking. Why she was thinking it. Maybe even if she was trying to trick him. He’d deserve it, after that display during dinner, but Sakura tried for her most saccharine smile.

Seemingly convinced, he slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him, flush against his body. Sand whipped up around them and she couldn’t stop the light gasp for the life of her. Steeling herself, Sakura gripped harder to him as they disappeared from the hallway outside her bedroom and her centre of gravity shifted and they reappeared on the roof of the Kazekage mansion.

The cold night air hit her first. She shivered but didn’t complain. She expected Gaara to pull away immediately but his hold on her remained firm. Almost like it was his apology. Or he was working up to one. Sakura waited. And glanced around, remembering that the Root shadow would be able to see them from the outside, on the roof, even if he couldn’t hear them.

She could imagine that freak’s reaction if he was watching right now. Sakura remembered, one of the few times the masked man hadn’t berated her on their three-day journey to Suna he’d gone over her expectations on this mission. He’d expected her to lull Gaara into a false sense of security. To take advantage of him. To play the part of a girl being sold off.

Use your assets, he’d said, leering at her. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.

Danzo had not ordered her to sleep with, let alone woo Gaara, specifically. But it was in every look he’d given her before sending her off. It was in between every line in the official papers for this mission. Of course, she’d ignored it. Sakura hadn’t planned to be here this long. But here she was, with Gaara’s arm around her, and all Sakura could think of was that, technically, this was supposed to be a seduction mission. She hadn’t foreseen viewing Gaara as a sexual being. It had snuck up on her, now painfully obvious. Sakura knew it before but a part of her had also denied it, but it was true. There was no going back now. She wanted him.

Desperately.

But she was done hoping he would start anything. Gaara wasn’t like that.

Sakura started as his left arm came around to embrace her. His chin resting on top of her head, and he let out a soft sigh. It made her body tremble in response, and she wondered what he was trying to do if not turn her on. This was out of character for him. As far as she could tell. She inhaled deeply. And he needed to stop smelling so good too.

Because it’s hot as fuck.

She wanted to dominate him. The feeling wasn’t new to her but the chance to be the one in control, was. All she’d ever done is exude a fake version of confidence. Sex was methodical. A tool. To her, at least. And here was Gaara, making her want something else. Something more.

But how am I supposed to get that?

She had no idea how to instigate this. Reluctantly, Sakura released her hold on Gaara and after a few moments of what seemed like internal contemplation, he uncoiled his arms, removing them from her hips gently. Always the gentleman. Never the paramour. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards.

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

She needed to get this under control. This level of intensity wasn’t natural for her. It had to be a side effect of either the prazosin drug she was taking or her anxiety. Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. She wasn’t so stupid as to presume she’d survived the last few years with her sanity intact. And it would explain so much.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at Gaara’s words. He was sorry. She blinked stupidly at him.

“For everything,” he said.

She nodded slowly, licking her lips absentmindedly. Yes, he’d been an arse. She could accept this. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating how to go about the discussion she wanted to have with him. He kept eye contact, obviously content with waiting for her input. She tried to smile but her lips quivered.

Sakura sighed.

“Councillor Sajō. He came to a few of the wedding planning sessions,” she said, deciding on a change of topic. “He was abrupt but otherwise respectful to the other ladies. But he kept glancing at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “He didn’t like what he saw. And he hates me. I know it’s not a lot to go on,” she added. “I’m sorry I was so pushy and defensive about it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sakura didn’t think he had anything to base that on. Sometimes she thought he had a secret file that occasionally leaked information about her to him, in minute amounts; just enough for him to get glimpses into her psyche, but not enough for a deep dive. Enough for his pity to sting her. To burn. And enough for him to think her some kind of helpless victim.

She stood straighter, shoulders pushed back, and chin raised. Sakura had never been good at hiding her feelings, even after the Root commanded that had trained her in the early days of Danzo’s reign got tired of her lack of control. The man had very little patience for emotional outbursts. He could teach her all manner of underhanded jutsu and Root-based tactics but mental conditioning to suppress her emotions? She was never going to master that. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. There was no seal on her tongue. Danzo didn’t stick needles in her eyes and brainwash her. No, he just had his subordinates torture her. Poke her full of holes. Heal her. Fry her. Rinse and repeat. She was fun to play with, apparently. Even more so than some others because an unwilling servant could scream the loudest.

“The council has always been difficult,” Gaara interrupted her thoughts, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He looked past her, as though someone had appeared suddenly, and she had to refrain from turning to look. But there had to be nobody there because his demeanour didn’t change. “They do like to make up their own rules sometimes.”

“I can believe that. Especially after that councillor started having me followed.”

Sakura was adamant that Sajō had. The Root shadow never seemed bothered by it. He’d even laughed a few times when she’d stopped on her way back to the Kazekage’s mansion, sensing the darkening presence behind her. Escorted by Matsuri and Yukata, she was shielded by their presence. Their limited protection. But the moment she strayed again; Sakura knew all bets would be off.

And who knows what Sajō is actually willing to throw down?

Would he have her cornered and interrogated? Would he stoop to physically attacking her? Maybe an attack like that would-be-assassin? He was making sure she stayed in line. After their run-in at the council building, she showed herself to be a loose cannon. And if Sajō was in league with Danzo, then it was likely the Root shadow would help him.

She explained all of this to Gaara, leaving out how her contemplation on how far Sajō would go intrigued her. If the old man gave her a reason to fight back, she would. Gaara frowned, concern marring his features.

“It has to be him,” she said.

“It’s at least a place to start,” he agreed.

Sakura smiled widely at him, warmth spreading over her face. Was she blushing? But hope had burgeoned in her chest, and she didn’t care, either way. His eyes softened as he stared back at her, and she had to push down the sudden urge to throw her arms around him.

“I can help,” she said. It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but Gaara’s face shifted into stony seriousness.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She nodded. “You know… I can handle myself.”

“I know–”

“I just…”

Sakura glanced around the rooftop, remembering another night when he’d followed her up here and she’d killed a masked assassin. It felt like years had passed since then. Being here for the first time since then brought it all back. The blood on her hands. The rain gently trying, and failing, to wash it away. Her mind spasming in ecstasy at the opportunity to finally get to kill something. When she eventually turned back to Gaara she found him looking around in a similar manner, a faraway, contemplative expression on his face.

Does he think of that night often, too?

“We never talked about that night,” she said, and suddenly had his full attention again. “I killed a man–”

“Who was trying to kill you,” he interrupted, but she kept going, unimpeded.

“–right here. I tore into him. And I know you know I took pleasure in it.” She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky, and ignoring the way he looked pensive. “And I know you know… that I’m not…” She struggled to find the right way to explain how she’d lost the plot without sounding dramatic. But it wouldn’t come. Instead, she tried another angle. “Sometimes it comes in flashes. I’ll be okay one moment and then… I’ll just want to dig my kunai into something. Or even my bare hands. That ache. That desire.” She sighs. “I know you understand.”

Because you used to be out of control too went unsaid.

“And I see things…” She cut herself off quickly, not wanting to go further down that rabbit hole.

Gaara’s eyes had widened slightly at that admission, but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

Anyway…

“I’m not all there, I know. But I’m not so far gone that–”

“You’re not crazy, Sakura. You’re not worthless or useless or unworthy.” Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His hands twitched, like he too was fighting the urge for them to embrace. She longed for that warmth again, shifting the weight between her feet nervously.

He stared at her intensely and she swallowed heavily in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. They stuck in the corner of her eyes in warning, and she tried so hard to keep them from falling, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her hands. Whatever she needed to do. Sakura nodded her head in agreement even as she refused to accept his sweet words.

But her gratitude towards this man was so strong that she couldn’t restrain the single sob from ripping out of her mouth. Now, she couldn’t stop the light tears now gathering along her eyelashes, threatening to obscure her vision. Sakura hugged herself as Gaara reached out to wipe the tears away. He was so tender and considerate. She felt like she was going to break from his kindness. It was good. But it was also torture.

Even after his outbursts and stubbornness to keep her in the dark, she couldn’t begrudge him forgiveness.

Sakura sniffed and leaned into his touch lightly, even as she was unable to bring herself to look at him. He cupped her cheek for a few moments, just holding his hand still against her before slowly wiping at her eyes again. When he removed his hand completely, it wasn’t done hastily or roughly. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt calmer. More in control.

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

She started, looking up at him in surprise. That came out of nowhere. But to be fair, it was something they’d already talked about. Once she got over the initial shock, Sakura found herself smiling her way through the mild panic at the thought of officially dating him.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

Gaara smiled wryly. “I don’t sleep much, and you don’t… have to go to the wedding planner tomorrow.”

That was true. It was officially her day off. She’d planned to spend it in the training grounds and also use some of that time to hone her ink crafting skills again. Sakura no longer felt the compulsion to escape Suna, though a deep seeded feeling of unease from merely being in Suna still ate at her. Everything she did now was just to pass the time, out of habit, or necessity. But this… yeah, she wanted to change things up a bit.

“O-okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Let’s… uh,” she blushed, “go on that date.”

Gaara must have been thinking about this more than she realised. He rattled off a few ideas, all of which she could picture being interrupted and annoyed by the ever-present Root shadow in her wake. But several of the ideas sounded like they might just be in a no-go zone for her stalker.

Only one way to find out.

And it was a shame her mirage couldn’t be kept out of things as easily.

Sakura realised, as Gaara tentatively explained how this place and that place were in high security areas and had amazing views of the village, that of course the Shadow wasn’t allowed in all areas of Suna. She could’ve slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. It was even likely he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Suna’s shinobi academy. All of this must have been covered back when they’d arrived and Baki had run down official rules to them both. She hadn’t been paying attention back then.

So many places I could’ve lost him in. Buried him, more like.

“Something casual,” Gaara was saying, bringing Sakura’s attention back to their impending date. Were they just going somewhere casual? Or was he talking about their relationship? Or maybe what they were going to wear? Well, there wasn’t anything casual about being engaged. It was still a farce, but it no longer felt trivial to her.

Okay, she could do this. She cleared her throat. “Yes, casual.”

Was that a smirk?

“We’ll need somewhere with food,” she added, ignoring the flush that his smirk had invoked along her body. They were both acutely aware neither of them had eaten their dinner. But Sakura didn’t want some homemade food for this. “Or money to buy some.”

“There are a number of acceptable vendors open this time of night.”

“Right.”

“I asked you out,” he said, his face tinging pink. “I will pay any and all fees.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that, since she was flat broke. It wasn’t like Danzo cared to pay her for any of her missions. She inwardly scoffed at the notion. The only things she owned were from before his takeover or what she’d managed to steal over the years. She would have to go through the clothes in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Again. At least there more options to choose from now, since both Matsuri and Yukata had made a point of restocking that threadbare closet.

“And I’ll change into something less... I mean more comfortable.” She spluttered. “I mean something casual.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. They were a pair of tomatoes. “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

Gaara nodded, his smile infectious as she returned it before turning on the spot and leaving him alone on the roof. She hadn’t even thought to ask him to use his sand, perhaps because she was still subconsciously remembering the ink creatures. They needed to be dealt with first, before she went anywhere.

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

The night was alive with the sounds and lights that made up the heart of Suna.

And the hounding footsteps of her eternal stalker. The closer they moved towards the lights and sounds, the further the Root retreated into the shadows. It faded into the background but refused to disappear completely. She would not turn her head to give it the attention it craved.

Instead, Sakura took in the sights and sounds, feeling like a proper tourist for the first time in her life. Gaara took her down a small path that led from the Kazekage mansion to the larger maze of interconnected paths to the thoroughfare of the village. From this narrow road, all other paths diverged. And his chosen path opened up into a lively and festival area.

There was no official looking celebration or staged performance, but the atmosphere had a similar ambience to them both. And the people were in merriment as though there really was a carnival going on. Sakura wondered if this was a new thing, because of the tensions of the Cold War and people just wanting to forget for a time, or if Suna had always occasionally held large-scaled revelries. Civilians behind the walls of any village, hidden and safer than most, couldn’t understand what it was really like out there, surely.

Enough of the doom and gloom.

The Root shadow followed as they moved deeper into the edge of the festivities, where the crowd was thinnest, keeping away from the louder groups. Far away. Some people turned to look at them; they recognised Gaara, despite his casual long styled jinbei, but Sakura’s casual shirt and trousers would not have screamed her identity more than her shocking pink hair. Even drab, it stood out. Fortunately, the crowd was sparse, having died down from the dinner rush, which meant the menu selections were limited but that suited them just fine.

Sakura tried not to notice how many people there really were. Nor the concerned look on Gaara’s face when he clearly noticed her anxiety. A few vendors sat on the outskirts of this rabble and Gaara steered them towards the first of the street food merchants, his hand on the small of her back. Sakura eyed the yakisoba but ultimately decided on yakitori. Gaara chose the same.

“I cannot take your money, Lord Kazekage,” the flustered merchant waved his hands frantically, when Gaara went to pay for it. “A treat for your lady friend. On the house.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, not wanting to speak for fear of setting off her anxiety. There were enough eyes on her. And the Shadow was ever present, even in the background. She took a deep breath and followed Gaara as he led her to an open dining area that was mostly empty. They sat on the tableless chairs and ate, just enjoying the distantly happy atmosphere and their silent company. It was oddly comfortable.

There was a tradition in Suna, or so Gaara had told her on the walk down the paths to this district. He’d learned about it from his brother. Like bar hopping in Konoha, this was called stall hopping – on dates or festival nights, going from one vendor to the next, buying a single, small portion of food, then moving onto the next vendor to repeat the process. It sounded interesting. Having finished their seasoned chicken, they now had their meat. Their animal protein.

The next stall had to be different. That was the tradition.

With Gaara’s arm pressed lightly and confidently against Sakura’s lower back, they continued to the next stall, which specialised in rice and seaweed as their main ingredients. Here, the vendor owner also refused Gaara’s money and ladled their plates with a serving of Onigiri and a shrimp tempura roll and ushered them to some seats nearby.

Sakura supposed it was good for business too, having the Kazekage seen at their stall.

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

#GaaSaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction #A Beautiful Lie

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