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etfrin · 5 months

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⤷❝ The Quiet Gift | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | squirting, Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, possessiveness, fingering (f. receiving), bathroom sex, mirror sex, semi-public sex (there was a gala), pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), dumbfication if you squint, dom sub undertones, degradation, ownership kink, breath play with a twist | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: continuation of the arranged marriage au, this is your one year anniversary with him with a gala held in place to celebrate, you get insecure because of some bitches and Coryo fucks you in the bathroom with sprinkles of your daily life with him.

⇢☾Request: this is a request (idk if i’m writing it in the write place im new to tumblr i usually use wattpad) young coriolanus snow bathroom mirror sex like him making u watch ur self come undone in the mirror

⇢☾A/N: enjoy everyone! And to one who requested, hope you like this! :) this might be my last post of this theme btw, i am getting sick of the blue :/

arranged marriage au: the study, mine to love

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

A year had passed of your marriage, a bond between two souls which wasn't much of a lie as before. Things with Coryo were better than you could ever expect. You thought he would isolate himself from you after your confession but so much had changed. He had gotten softer but more possessive. His edges are sharp yet he makes sure it's a shield for you, not something that would make you bleed.

Among his actions include changing your entire wardrobe (not without your opinion first), a library that connects to his office (his office is something you have access to at all times now), his room was now yours both (your favorite change), and last but not least a poison taster was included so that no attempts of assassination at the First Lady could be taken.

At first, you thought it to be extra, but knowing that it would put his paranoid mind at peace you allow it without much to say. He picked out your outfit every day, and sometimes you did the same for Coriolanus. He would frown as you decide what to wear or not for him for the day, knowing that some of the pieces don't match his style but when he sees your smile as you pick out the clothes. He smooths his frown and takes whatever horrible fashion statement you created for him and wears it with pride.

If anyone dared to speak up about it, he proudly said that his wife picked it out and everyone knew better than to speak a single ill word of the unspoken Queen of Panem.

Today was one of those days when you decided to pick his outfit. Today was something special after all. One year had passed since you had become Mrs. Snow, and a gala was to be held tonight to celebrate the union.

So yes, you were going to pick his outfit. You had even woken up early because of it. You giggled as you opened your eyes, your arm around Coryo whose hair looked impossibly messy, sticking out everywhere. It made him look years younger than he was. You chuckled at the sight, your heart clenching with the love you have for this man. You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. You whispered, not expecting him to wake up until his alarm rang, “Good morning, Coryo”

You quietly slipped away from the bed and tiptoeed to the closet. The closet you both shared now. One side carrying every single piece of your clothing and the other side his. You wanted to pick out something different for your husband once, sick of seeing him in his white shirts and black vest. That's how you picked out a black suit with a white vest and a red silk shirt. You could imagine unbuttoning this off of him tonight and the thought made your body heat up and a giggle escaped your lips.

“What are you laughing about, doll?” A voice, his deep sleepy voice startling you. “Nothing!” You quickly said, turning to look at Snow, your breath hitching as his eyes were half closed and his hair turned into a mess of curls. Sometimes you wonder if this was all a fever dream and if you truly have the privilege of seeing him like this. You placed the clothes into a corner and went to him.

You pulled him down, your hand on his nape and another on his cheek as you guided him to your lips. Morning breath be damned. His actions were reflexive with how his arms pulled you in closer as his lips pressed into yours. He smiles against your lips and soon both of your tongues tangle in an uncoordinated sleepy manner and you whimper into his mouth.

This was real. This was your reality and you would do everything to keep it as it is. You pulled back and he whispered, “What was that for, doll?”

“Just needed to make sure this was real,” you answered him. Your words make him crack a real smile, something even you saw rarely and it would only be possible in moments like this. Moments when you have shocked the man with your actions and words and made him fall harder for you.

“Well it is,” he grins. Before his expression clears up he focuses on the clothes you have set aside. “Outfit for today?” He asked. You nod and smile at him, gesturing at the clothes. “You would look handsome in them,” you said. “Don't I always look handsome?” He smirks, you laugh, “I am not falling for that trap, dear husband. I'll be in the shower, choose something for me.” You press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the closet.

After showering and wearing the red dress he had decided, both of you go on for your respective duties. The gala would start early in the day and there were a few hours left before it formally started as guests were already coming in.

The mansion was set up beautifully, no words could have possibly explained the amount of work and dedication to make this the event of the year, valued higher than the Hunger Games itself. In another universe, it may not have been possible, in this one however you somehow managed to crack into his heart and made yourself a higher priority.

You were doing finishing touches of your makeup when Corio came in, his hair slicked back but his body tense, his eyes unable to hide the shakiness in them. You don't say anything, letting the man have his moment of vulnerability. You knew you would mess him up even more if you pointed it out, so you continued your task.

You didn't pay him any attention despite the itch to turn to him. You force yourself to stare straight into the mirror, applying your lipstick for the night. That was until he came behind you, his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his head propped on your shoulder as you felt him take deep breaths.

You don't ask if anything is wrong, accepting the rare form of intimacy he initiated. Usually, you're the ones for the hugs, the genuine ones anyway. You knew despite everything you were like a math equation to Snow. His mind figured out the formulas to keep you to him forever, you doubted if he saw anyone as his equal but you were perhaps the closest thing to it.

You had accepted it long before, but moments like this when Coriolanus allowed himself to be a human meant everything to you. You fell for every version of him, the one that is an untouchable deity who could kill you without guilt, and the human he was, obsession filling in veins making you the sole objective of his mind as he already achieved Panem.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths with him. In the end, you were human too and you broke. “What's wrong?” You asked, as softly as possible yet breaking the bubble that had formed.

He smirks through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours, a sense of superiority in the blue hues. “Nothing’s wrong, my doll,” he whispered to you, pressing a ghost-like kiss to your bare shoulder. His arms cage you tighter, making a small gasp on your lips. “Okay,” you smile at him.

“Ready to start the gala then?” You asked, “Snows are born ready,” he replied, his tone smug.

One of his arms was kept wrapped around his waist while the other opened a drawer to take out a small box. “For you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck. You opened the box, and in it was a gold necklace with the initial ‘S’. You blush, and leave it to Corio to give you a necklace with his initials for an anniversary gift. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your head turning back and you gave him the brightest smile. “Help me wear it?” You mumbled as you handed him the box.

And so he did, and now a necklace was on your neck, the letter ‘S’ sitting perfectly on your skin. It scratched an innate itch for Snow to see you wear this. A part of him had expected you to fight, and be disgusted by this action, his mind thinking of several ways to make (force) you to wear the necklace. But as always you surprised him with your acceptance, as if you knew that wearing this would help him with his possessiveness. You were truly the right woman for him.

With his arm around your waist, you walk into the celebration. Countless people, the top elites of the Capitol were attending the gala. Everything had to be perfect.

Alas, fate is nothing but fickle.

The rumors didn't catch your ears at first before slowly the whispers caught up to you. Too busy with your life in the mansion and with Coriolanus, you rarely were social. You never had many friends from the capitols' elites. And those who knew were merely allies for the future. So the gossip never reached your ears.

Gossip you knew better to believe. Words change when they travel mouth to mouth. It can be easily manipulated too, your husband was a living proof of that. The snake tongue of all of Panem. But when the words seemed to get louder and louder, you couldn't help but feel maybe it's tinged with truth.

Snow was busy talking to diplomats while you were politely having a conversation with the ladies. That's when the questions began about some things they had heard about Snow. Each worse than the other but nothing you didn't already know. You make sure to change their perspective whenever something new comes up. Coriolanus was still new at this position, anything could snatch the power away if either of you weren't careful.

Feeling like you have finished the job, you begin to move away, only to stop when you hear, “...even wearing a pendant with his initial, she's nothing more than a whore who was pushed up to play the role of the First Lady. A woman of her standing would never deserve such a title.”

It was true, when Snow asked you to marry you, it was sudden and he gained nothing from it. Nothing, no money, power, and just a few connections you had but he had already impressed them all beforehand so there was no need for you. Your history in the academy wasn't all that great either, you were never the best but wholly average. A man like Snow deserved the best.

Insecurity claws at your heart and even so with recent events you knew their words were wrong. Tears burned your eyes. Your hand goes to the necklace you had on, your fingers twirling the pendant. Meanwhile, despite Coriolanus' focus being mainly on talking sweet to the guests and gathering sponsors, his eyes were on you, your every moment, and each person you spoke to. He notices you walking away from the gala and into the hallways. He followed you.

You were in one of the many bathrooms the manor had to offer. You stared at the mirror, the necklace you were wearing, and your hands traveled to the back ready to take it off. That's when Coriolanus enters the bathroom, his footsteps stopping midtrack as you freeze too.

“Coryo,” you begin to speak, your hand at your side now. “I was just-” “Why were you going to take it off?” He interrupted you, his face twisted in a glare you never thought would be directed at you. You shrugged, trying to play casual, “It doesn't feel appropriate.” “Why?” He questioned his tone icy calm, spreading chills down your spine. “Because-” because you didn't feel worthy of it. “Because you're ashamed of me,” he scoffs, walking closer to you. His eyes now fully glaring at you.

You frown, “What? Coryo, no-” He tilts your chin up, as he leans in, his expression twisted in fury, “Then what? There's no other appropriate reason for you to take it off then.” In truth, something was getting lost in translation, the women you were talking to earlier were going to be accused of treason in a few days. The cause? The rumors (some truth mixed in as well) they had spread about Snow. They were invited out of courtesy and after this, they had signed their death certificate.

“It's nothing like-” “Then what?” He hissed, “Did you finally come to your senses? Did they tell you how much of a horrible monster I am? And a horrible president?” You knew some sort of major miscommunication had happened but you had no idea how to deal with it. Not when Snow pressed a harsh, hard kiss to your lips, teeth clashing and his tongue seemingly fighting with yours for dominance that you easily gave over.

“You can't escape me, doll. No matter how horrible you realize I am. Think about running away and it's your dead body that will be leaving this mansion.” he whispered against your lips, his hands on your waist, your body flushed against his as your back hit the counter.

You chuckled at his words, knowing that would never be your end. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and it makes you giggle even further. “Dove, I am not joking,” he said, looking straight in your eyes. “I know,” you smile at him, “You…” you shake your head, smiling, you were surely crazier than him. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Those women said something… mean and it made me realize I may not be worthy of this necklace…” you begin to explain, hoping the explanation would calm him down.

You thought wrong. “You don't think I can decide who deserves to be my property, pet. Whom I let to be my queen,” he said, his tone deeper than before. He whispered, “I decided it's you. It's been a year since that decision and I haven't regretted it once.”

He manovaroued you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is mine. My pet. My wife. How dare you try to take off a mark of my ownership, doll?” You opened your mouth to apologize, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. He begins to press you against the counter, your body bending over as he continues to press wet kisses on your nape.

“You need a reminder about whom you belong to,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin making you shiver, heat spreading to your body as his hands unzipped your dress from behind, letting the fabric fall on the floor. “I am yours,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. “Then you should have known better, my stupid bird.”

“You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly, his head propped up to your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and that group of women dies.” They were going to die either way but you didn't know that.

You gasp, “Snow- '' His hands squeeze your breasts harder, bordering on pain. “It’s Coryo for you, dove,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit. At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

He rubbed at your clit relentlessly, making you soak your panties with your juices. His other hand squeezes your hips. You whine, your eyes closing and he pinches your clit making you moan louder than you should, your eyes opening immediately to meet his gaze.

“Only warning, pet,” he whispered, his finger now playing with the clit even more relentlessly. Back and forth, up and down with no mercy, making the bud swollen and your pussy clench around nothing. “Yes, Coryo,” you gasp.

“My dumb pet can learn after all,” he whispered to your ear and then his lips kissed the clasp of your necklace. His fingers abandon your clit to swipe at your folds to gather your wetness. He chuckles as he continues to tease you like this, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Coryo,” you whispered and your eyes connected with his and you knew his fingers could feel the flex of your cunt around nothing. “That's it. Look at me, doll.”

He slipped his fingers one by one into your slit, the stretch making you gasp. “It's too much,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky. “You can take it,” he tuts. His fingers begin to message your wall, hitting every crook and canny you never knew existed. He twisted his fingers thrusting right at your g-spot making you moan loudly, your body was now completely bent over in front of the mirror and your hands gripped the counter for life. Snow continues to playfully stretch you out, scissoring your pussy with his long fingers.

When he finally deemed you loose enough, he pulled his fingers out without a warning making you whimper. He pulls down your panties around your knees, and then his hand unzipped his pant to take his cock out. Something in you liked how he was composed and fully clothed while having you like this, primal and debauched. It showcased Coriolanus perfectly, no matter how prim and proper the man was outside in the end he was as much of a mess.

His impatient was clear with his clenched jaw, one of his hands traveling upwards your body to grip your breast like a handle as his free hand guides his leaking, hard cock into your entrance. “I was going to fuck you good tonight, on a bed properly like a wife deserves,” he begins to say as he pushed in with a single stroke. Your mouth lets out a small scream as your pussy adjusts to his dick. “Instead I have to treat you like a whore, bending your ass over a counter and fuck you while there are people all over the mansion.” He shakes his head disappointed, he meets your gaze, “I expected better, doll.”

“Then why keep a disappointment around,” you snapped at him, making him raise his eyebrows at your tone, his cock twitching inside your walls. “I wonder that myself too,” he grunts, his face buried in your shoulder, his tongue licking your salty skin. “You’re my everything,” he whispered, “Don't you forget that, dove.”

It was a confession that made you turn your back and made you catch his lips. He groans into your mouth as both of your tongues play with each other, expressing words the others cannot say. His free hand went to grip your necklace chain, making you gasp as he fisted the chain and pulled at it, knocking at your breath in one go.

His hips had begun to pound into you, short, hard thrusts that made his cockhead press against your g-spot while his remaining length messaged your walls perfectly. “You don't have to think, doll. I am here to think for you. You don't have to think about deserving me, or Panem. You don't have to think at all, just be my bird. My bird only,” he grunts.

Your eyes had begun to see spots from the lack of air, he hadn't seemed to care as your pussy keeps squeezing around him because of it. He lets go of the chain, making you gasp and you take the air you desperately need as his thrusts begin to get sloppier. Coryo was too impatient, too worked up, too mad at you to care about your pleasure. You were a pet getting used and you loved every second of it.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and he groaned in response, as his thrusts got slower. He was edging himself to last longer, for this not to end. He bites your nape, not hard as he does usually to make sure the mark fades in a few seconds. His hips continue to rock into you, both of his hands now kneading at your clothed breast. He makes your round flesh spill from the bra and cups them with a groan escaping his lips.

“You’re mine,” he said as he pressed wet kisses all over your neck and shoulders, “Mine.” Your pussy clenched around him, making his pace get even slower, frustration begins to claw your mind as your body tethers to the edge. “Yours,” you agreed. “Fuck me faster,” you plead.

He lets out a laugh, “No. You'll take what I'll give.” “Coryo, my love please!” You begged. His hips stutter, making you feel confused, before realizing why he had stopped. You hadn't called him that since that night and you realized you had leverage on the man.

“My love, please! Fuck me harder,” you spill, “Baby, please!” He clenched his jaw trying so hard not to give in to the instinct of rutting into you like an animal. Knowing that he was near the edge, you continue, “Cum in me and make me walk around the gala with your cum inside, please. Please, mark me!”

That did the trick rather perfectly. His hand wraps around your throat, not choking you but staying there as a comforting presence that shouldn't have been comforting at all. “My dumb pet has ways with words. Gotta fuck that out of you, my dove,” he smirked.

His hips begin to roll into you again, making you gasp and squeeze his dick with your slick walls. The start of it was slow and cautious before Coriolanus decided to throw it all in the wind. He takes half of his length out before slamming it back to you. The sound of hips snapping echoed into the air along with his grunts and your moans. He kept fucking into you, with no care about anything.

Both of your sights were obscene in the mirror and it turned you not to end. Your body had begun to heat, your pussy aching to cum after being played with for so long. The tension in your body was close to snapping, and he knew it too. Knew it the way your cunt kept sucking his cock in so well. His head was on your shoulder, his mouth breathing out hot air onto your skin.

“Look at me,” you whispered, and his eyes snap at you and not even a second later he spills into your cunt, fucking his cum into you as he lets out a whine for the first time. You gasp, feeling your build-up fading without snapping but Snow was never to disappoint. He pulled his cock out, just to stuff you with his fingers. You whimper, your sensitive walls twitching around his fingers, so close to breaking.

Coriolanus doesn't waste a second to thrust into your sopping cunt, your folds covered in his cum, and fucking that into you with his fingers. He crooks his fingers perfectly, hitting your g-spot and making you black out for a second as his fingers keep assaulting your insides without a care.

You gasp, your body starting to give up. Snow has to wrap an arm around you to help you stay balanced. “That's it, doll. Cum on my fingers. I will make you cum on my cock later,” he promised to you. You cry out as his fingers continue their fast pace of thrusting. And finally, finally, your orgasm builds up again. A single graze from his fingertip onto your spongy spot has you not only cumming but squirting too.

Even Coriolanus eyes widen in surprise as you spill your juices onto the floor, ruining your dress and everything. You begin to feel ashamed of losing control in such a manner, but Coryo curses, “Fuck, doll. Fuck, that was…” He couldn't even finish the sentence.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself close to losing balance, only for Snow to swipe your legs from the floor and carry you to the bathtub.

“I’ll take care of you, doll,” he said, “I’ll bring in a new set of clothes, wait.” “What about the gala?” You asked. He kissed your temple before he replied, “I told everyone to leave the moment you walked away. Told everyone you were sick and as your husband, I shall be taking care of you.”

You let out a raspy chuckle, it was rather amazing how Coriolanus Snow always turned everything in his favor. Even this would help his image of being a president who took such good care of his wife and would surely take the country to great lengths.

“Snow lands on top,” you whispered to him with a smile.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy

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senxitive · 1 year

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I genuinely can't imagine myself in another relationship ever and I don't know if it's just post-post heartbreak or the fact that I can't imagine meeting someone who I want to be in my life every day all the time or if I'm just homesick and want one person or if I genuinely don't want to compromise my space and time and energy for another person.

I just feel so devoid but also sad at the same time (when I think of the One Person)

#it's weird #even the last couple years of my longterm relationship i felt kind of that way #it was this sense of if I dont feel this way about one of the best ppl i know....then how could i possibly feel it about anyone ever #and now that im single #i feel that plus a sense of melancholy that maybe i wont ever connect with that feeling or be able to accept it as the luxury it is #just like when i accepted that having a child wasnt for me #and that meant accepting that the fairytale of meaning and true love and purpose and happiness associated w birth wouldnt be something #i experience and that maybe i wouldnt ever feel that happiness because I wont have children #and its the same thing now #its scary when you dont necessarily believe in these 'guaranteed' paths to true happiness #it means you have to accept that you have to create your own fulfillment and try to find peace with that #and if you dont create it....you're just existing....#im not saying you cant do both...make your own and have ppl in ur life #you should #but when you start to think genuinely that relationships arent for you....you see a big piece of that removed and feel so much more #emphasis on finding your own fulfillment which is just hard #and melancholy idk what else to say

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mannaima · 1 year

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Literally literally literally just Joel and like desperate sex. Like he is crushing you (Me? All of us? Idk) trying to hold you closer and drive himself in deeper. I’ll die. I’ll die.

Hold me close.

Summary: An odd friendship turned into something deeper…

Warnings: NSFW, smut, female! reader, dub-con(ish)(reader is just a little unsure at first but def has some horniness for joel), age gap (reader is mid20s, Joel is mid 50s) L-bombs being dropped, general pervy vibes from Joel, Joels a little ooc (much friendlier…)

Word count: 4.1K

Authors note: hhhhhhh thinking of a clingy sex depraved Joel is giving me like. Brain rot. SO so hot.

Your eyes fluttered open, waking up in a small dingy bed in a semi-clean place you called home. You never truly felt like it was home, just a place to sleep in and avoid the terrible people. You admit, you were dramatic, but after too many encounters with sickos who befriended you, only to steal what little you had on your back, maybe you had a reason too. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror. What was to be said about the life you lived? Wake up, work an odd job, come home, and sleep. You didn’t even have the solace of a stiff drink after a hard day of labor, no, long gone were the days of luxuries such as that. You could spend two days of ration cards on a ciggie, but you’d be left starving with a short-lived relief from life. You just sighed, and brought yourself to your small collection of clothing.

You moved in auto-pilot, hovering from place to place in your home, nothing ever changed. Slipping on the final piece of your “uniform,” as you liked to call it, you walked out the door into the outside world. It was gloomy, it usually was, but that was all you had to say about the world beyond your empty walls. You didn’t care what job you got, just the one that paid the highest. After lining up among the bodies of soulless wage slaves you paid no mind to, you finally received your assignment. Body burning. Despite the persona you had made of yourself, you still cried after seeing the bodies of the lifeless. Potential. Just gone. You walked to the job site.

Watching your feet hit the gravel in a pattern, you suddenly felt yourself stopped, you had bumped into something, or rather- someone.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your voice was meek, unaware of the danger that lay in front of you. Could be a crazy person looking for a problem, or someone on a power trip. The universe was merciful to you today.

“It’s alright.” A deep voice with a slight southern drawl, you had looked up for a second, but all you saw was the back of a much larger man, he paid no mind to you. You sighed under your breath, in relief, and moved around him, just to avoid another mishap. The “conversation,” if one could call it that, was already doing a strain on your head.

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The job site was filled with people, all with an emotionless expression. Work just wasn’t anything to smile about. Especially the matter you were dealing with. You had to ‘partner’ up with someone essentially, both taking out bodies to put into the pit of fire. As the trucks of bodies arrived, a man stood next to you, signaling you two were together. You looked at him. Same color shirt as the man who you bumped into. Same height. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Thoughts swirled in your head, you hoped he didn’t recognize you. Of course he wouldn’t, he didn’t even look back at you!

Putting the bodies in the pit was no easy task, it took a heavy amount of strength, which you were thankful to have. Despite helping each other throw the bodies, you shared no words with each other, for hours. Body after body, the work didn’t seem to stop, sweat began to bead upon your forehead.

“Here.” The man sharing the truck with you held out a handkerchief. Despite his semi-dirty appearance, the rag was decently clean. You took his peace offering, and gave him a nod, and wiped your forehead with it, allowing you to feel much cleaner than before. You held it back out for him to take, but he shook his head.

“Keep it.” Again, you nodded. But a voice in your head told you to thank him properly, you were quiet, but you weren’t a bitch.

“Thank you.” Now it was his turn to nod at you, and you both continued your work. But this time, after maybe a few minutes, you decided to talk to him again. You just wanted to be polite, is all.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You internally scoffed, working for over a few hours and you barely got to even greet one another.

“Joel. You as well.” You gave him a small smile while lunging the body into the flames. He gave you a look for a second, before sharing the sentiment, just barely.

“For such a small girl, you’re doing such a difficult job.”

“Well, we all have our strengths. I just happen to be blessed with a dad that made me do push ups at age four.” You let out a small giggle, to which he gave you a chuckle.

“Really? Well I guess those paid off, you’re doing better than my last partner.” You let out another small laugh, followed by a meek ‘thank you.’ A booming voice had let you know that the job was done, which meant you had to go collect your ration cards. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you walked over to the line of people. Joel had followed you on your tail.

“Got any plans tonight?” Joel stood right next to you in line, you felt so small compared to him. You awkwardly shook your head no, looking right into his eyes.

“Just another day of work and sleep.” He hummed at this, and you felt the tension in the air in the silent minutes you waited. Receiving your ration cards, you finally trailed back to your so-called home. You decided you needed some food in your stomach, so you trailed around the market, hoping for something to catch your eye.

“Thought you didn’t have any plans.” A deep voice came from your left, and your eyes trailed up the large man.

“Got hungry. Sorry.”

“Don't apologize.” Nodding at him, you continued to look around for food, and you finally decided. Joel was still at your side, it was slightly creepy, the way he just peered at you. You had assumed a man like him probably had a wife, but now, not so much.

“Can I help you with anything?” You tried to make that sound as polite as possible, not wanting to hurt the sweet yet slightly scary man. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself.

“No.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. You were confused, nevertheless you still tracked your way home, you just wanted some calmness before you slept. Tommorows another day.

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You got as much sleep as one could in these conditions, but yet, you felt unnerved by some unforeseen force. You brushed it off, you blamed it on just missing life before it all. Sighing, you began your routine once more. This time, however, you took notice of Joel’s handkerchief he had given you. You smiled a bit, before placing it around your head as you would a sweatband. You felt a small semblance of normality, maybe even a little bit more confidence. You shrugged at your reflection, and walked out into the world once more. You took no more than a few steps before you saw a familiar face. Despite your brain saying no, you decided, why not give people another chance?

“Hi Joel. Funny seeing you.” You said, walking up next to him.

“Likewise. Like the hair thing going on.” He pointed to your makeshift headband, to which you gave a small grin.

“I have you to thank for this.” As you reached job assignments, you engaged in more small talk. You mostly talked about how life treated you currently, and that subject dried up quickly. After receiving the same job assignment, you both walked to the site once more.

“So, any friends worth chatting about.” He was such an old guy, you still appreciated the sentiment with trying to stay “hip.”

“Ah. No, sadly. Too many people fucked me over, friends are a luxury in this life.” Your arms lugged over the body into the pit.

“Oh trust me, I know all about that. But you’re so young, you should be making experiences, lord knows I needed those in my youth.” You let out a small ‘ha,’ amused by his words.

“I wish it was that easy. But I kind of enjoy the quiet life of being a loner. Having no friends is too peaceful to give up.” Another dropped body.

“That's not completely true,” You looked up to see him staring at you.

“You got one right here.” He gave you a small grin.

------

And a friend he was. For the past few weeks, he always checked up on you, asking if you slept well, you ate well, and if you were ready to work. You both got the same job assignments, and depending on the job, you both talked throughout the entire shift. Finally happy to have a genuine friend, someone who was scary yet kind in moments. His stoic face brought a shiver down your spine, but it seemed like he always had a small smile while talking to you. Your friendship lasted within the work days, as you both parted ways after your shift was over, thankfully for you. You enjoyed your peace, which he gladly understood, though not today.

“Hey, Y/N?” You looked at him, mid drink of your canteen or whatever, you nodded in acknowledgement.

“Wanna come over tonight?” Simple and blunt, no offer of dinner, cigarettes or whatever moonshine brew people made these days. Just a simple offer to hang out. You smiled, it felt real, it made you trust him just a little bit more.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” What was one night with a friend instead of rotting in your room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

-----

Work was over as quick as it began, allowing you and Joel to walk to his home before the sun had set. He led the way, talking of ‘business’ being spewed, but you didn’t really pay mind to it.

“Well. Home sweet home.” You took in the room around you. It was nothing special. Similar to yours, but slightly bigger and more lived in. It felt good to have a little change in your life.

“Nice.” The air smelt of him, manly and comforting. He sat you down on the edge of his bed, despite the table in the corner, but you assumed he wanted to sit on something soft after a long day of work. He sat next to you.

“You know, it surprised me when you said you didn’t have friends, surely someone as beautiful as you would have made a couple peers.” You froze at the word ‘beautiful.’ He had never complimented your looks before, and you didn’t know whether to blush or cringe, but you remembered this man had more than twenty years on you, surely he meant it in a way you would call a stranger pretty.

“Well, I did have a few. They just didn’t turn out well.”

“How so?” He questioned, moving slightly closer.

“Well, I had joined a group of people around my age, all super chill but seemed more interested in spending all their ration cards on pills and cigs,” His eyes flashed away for a second, but turned back to you “One day two girls invited me to a hang out session between all of us, but when I approached the meeting spot, they jumped me. Stole everything I had on my person, including a necklace that my father gave me. Gave me a black eye and a busted lip. Fought like hell tho, it wasn't fair they had a knife.” You gave a small chuckle, thinking about the whole ordeal again. A few moments of silence lingered in the air.

“I’m. I’m sorry for prying.” You shook your hands at him, face panicked.

“No, no, no! Sorry, I got all deep for no reason. Don’t apologize.” He gave you a look, another look like he wanted to say so much, but he didn’t. He let the room stay silent before putting his hand on your thigh.

“I’m sorry. Just know I would never treat you like that, sweetheart.” His thumb slowly rubbed against your thigh, your eyes nervously staring at him. He quickly removed his hand and began talking about the fights he used to get in ‘at his youth’ which didn’t fail to make you laugh. Despite the age gap between you two, you felt so comfortable in talking to him like a gossiping girl with her girlfriends.

-----

Hours had passed, the laughter of both of yours filling the room. Your life was depressing, but Joel managed to be a small glimmer in your dark life. You looked outside, it was pitch black now, which made a realization dawn upon you.

“Oh no. It’s past curfew.” A quick check at a wall clock confirmed this, which made you groan.

“Ah, I’m so sorry. I should’ve reminded you.” He patted your back as you hunched over, your hands covering your cheeks.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more responsible and kept track. I don’t suppose I could trouble you to sleep here?” You glanced up at him, his arm still around you, rubbing circles into your back.

“Of course, I wouldn’t just let you go back out there to fend for yourself.” You smiled at his kindness.

“Do you want to change? Or- Uh. I think I have a t-shirt in here somewhere…” He shot up from his spot on the bed to rummage around his drawers, and he pulled out a tee, perfect size for him, large for you. You thanked him and you walked to the bathroom to change.

You realized the shirt went down past your thighs, which meant pants weren’t necessary. I mean, you didn’t think it was so wrong to just wear panties under the shirt. What did he expect, giving you nothing but a shirt? It was like a night gown at this point, so you didn’t mind. You folded your clothing and walked back into his bedroom. He looked at you with a small change in his expression, his eyes slightly wider.

“I’ll um, set up the floor for me.” He began to move a blanket off the bed. You shook your head at him.

“No, Joel! You’ve already allowed me to sleep over, I can’t make you sleep on the floor in your own home. I’ll take the floor.”

“I can’t do that to a lady, it’s no trouble at all sweetie.” You stood your ground and refused to let him take a pillow from his bed.

“Well I guess we’ll share the bed.” He said, as a matter of fact. You didn’t really think this through, but you nodded, you needed the warmth anyways. It was late and the air was crisp, even inside. You gulped as you settled into bed, Joel leaving to go change in the bathroom as well. Your eyes nervously darted around the room when he came out wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants, no shirt at all. Despite being much older, he was still very fit and toned. It made your cheeks hot at how well he looked. But you shook your head, he was just a friend. A sweet friend. You can’t think of him like that.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight.” You were so in your head that you barely realized he had already gotten under the sheets next to you, inches away from each other's bodies. You nodded and looked at him, his face barely lit by the small light coming from the outside, his usually sharp features became much softer in the dim lighting.

“Goodnight Joel, thank you again.” Your voice was barely a whisper, your body snuggling under the warm sheets, shifting to face away from him. Your eyes began to feel heavy as you drifted off to dreamland, your mind going blank.

------

Your eyes shot open, it was still dark in the room however, meaning dawn had not come yet. Your mouth dry and your body heavy, you felt very off, but nothing that would awaken you from your slumber, what made you wake-

“Oh fuck…” You heard a quiet yet deep groan behind you, right behind your head. You froze, unsure whether to move or not. It only took a few seconds to realize the warmth near your pussy, how had you not felt it earlier?! Your eyes were wide as you felt a warm length press between the fat of your thighs, back and forth in a slow thrusting movement. He was fucking your thighs.

“Mmmmm fuck.” Another groan, this time he seemed to try and quiet himself down, his cock still being pushed between your legs, the occasional shock went through your body as you felt him rub against your pussy. You were unsure what to do about this, you definitely couldn’t just fall back asleep, and you weren’t sure how to deal with the awkwardness of moving away from him. You kept as still as you could, trying to keep your breathing regulated.

His hands suddenly snaked his way to your hips, a firm grip was attached to them as he thrusted between your thighs much harder. He once again groaned, but this time it was followed by small whimpers, a likely attempt to keep himself quiet. You then felt hairs poking your neck, his stubble rubbing against you as he buried his face into the nape of your neck. He had to have known you were awake at this point, his cock was rubbing against you at a much faster pace now. You had no idea what to do, so you just swallowed your nervousness and went with your gut.

“J-Joel? What are you doing?” He froze at your words, immediately stopping his thrusts against you. You heard an audible gulp, his warm hands not moving an inch however. He said nothing, for a few minutes or seconds, you couldn’t tell, the awkward feeling making time stop almost. As you were about to shift away, he grabbed your shoulder and pressed you down, your back bare on the mattress. He was hovering over you now, you could see the desperation in his eyes, his chest moving up and down with his heavy breathing. You didn’t know what to do, you just stared at him with glossy eyes. The tension was broken by his sudden movements to place a rough kiss upon your lips. His tongue slipped in as your mouth was wide open from shock, his hands cupping your cheek. The heat you felt coming off him was like no other, and his tongue roughly moved around yours, a small whimper being moaned out by you, due to the man handling.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t get enough of you…” He pulled away momentarily to begin kissing upon your neck, your eyes rolling back.

“Joel… S-stop…” You moaned out, your hands pushing against his bare chest.

“You don’t mean that sweetheart.” He said, matter of factly, his deep voice making your knees weak. You shook your head, but his tongue working against your neck made you so vulnerable, you couldn’t resist him.

“J-Joel, no, please. We can’t- I can’t.” You begged against him, but he ignored you and continued to grope your body while licking upon your neck. You felt so hot, his hands were so large against your body, you wanted to resist but your body couldn’t. He sat up, his whole body on display for you, and as your eyes trailed down his toned body, you couldn’t help but notice the large bulge in his sweatpants.

“See what you do to me sweetheart? This is all because of you.” His large hands moved it over the pants, making you whimper, the sheer size of it was eye widening. He pulled the pants slightly down, revealing it in all its glory. It bounced up, and it began to leak precum as it twitched.

“Come here.” He pulled your leg, allowing them to be around his own, his cock lined over your pussy, the size of it reaching past your belly button, you gulped. He slapped it a few times over your lower belly, which made you whimper. He slowly pulled down your panties, throwing it to the side once they were off.

“You’re so fucking cute. You don’t know how long I wanted to have this, baby.” His voice was filled with desperation, and he held your hips as he positioned himself at the entrance. He slowly pushed himself in, the tightness gripping him, pain surging through you.

“W-wait. Joel-” He suddenly pushed into you all at once, a loud scream being let through you, to which he quickly covered your mouth with his hand. He held your waist and lifted you up, forcing you to slump over his chest. You whimpered under his hand, the pain of his cock made you feel like you were being ripped open. He suddenly began to bounce you on him, muffled moans and pained groans of yours filling his ears. He was so strong, lifting up your body weight with one hand, allowing your pussy to engulf his cock with such a grip. His throat was letting out groans, his eyes so focused on your tits bouncing through the t-shirt.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” You nodded, your eyes lidded as he slowly began to move his hand away from your lips, a trail of drool following it.

“That’s it. Take it baby.” Both his hands were now guiding you against his length, making you moan into the cold room, pleasure overcoming the pain. You felt euphoric, you haven’t had pleasure like this in so long– maybe even ever. His arms began to snake around you, wrapping around your whole body as he basically hugged you, allowing him to better thrust you into his cock. He pushed you up and down faster and faster– until you could barely take it.

“Joel. J-Joel! Slow down a bit please-” You let out a loud moan, he kept squeezing you against his chest as he thrust into you, he then pushed you on the sheets and kept you in his embrace.

“Sorry love, I just can’t get enough of you. I fuckin’ love the way you feel around me.” He breathed into your neck as he jackhammered you, the bed creaking with the harsh movement of his hips. The mixture of both your moans, he definitely wasn’t afraid to show how much you made him lose control, his hands squeezing you close to his chest, your eyes staring into each other.

“I love you so fucking much sweetheart.” You were shocked, but the build up of pleasure was too much for your brain to handle, you didn’t even give another thought to your next words.

“I love you too Joel.” You said between moans and deep breaths– it wasn’t long before you felt so close to the edge. You muttered small ‘fuck’s and ‘i love you’s as you came around him, your moans being muffled by his lips on yours, his hips suddenly stopping as he pulled out and came on your stomach. He groaned as each drop of cum left his cock, the constant twitching aligning with his soft groans. You opened your eyes as both of your orgasms had gone, his eyes slowly opening as well, his lips slowly leaving yours. You both stayed in this position, his body draped over yours, eyes staring at one other with so much love.

After a few minutes of this, he leaned over to pick up a small rag to wipe your stomach. You let out a giggle, the feeling of it rubbing against it was very ticklish. He kept looking at you, with that look on his face that he gave you when he wanted to say something. You decided to break the ice.

“Something on your mind Joel?” You sat up and leaned your head against his sweaty chest.

“Did. Did you really mean what you said? You know…” He was nervous, you wanted to laugh a little. How could a man who killed people and looked like he hated the world, be so nervous around someone like you. You nodded your head.

“Of course Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #dark! joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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ratsonastick · 3 months

Note

could you do jock!clarisse x nerd!(fem)reader and like clarisse bullies reader but then they somehow like each other at the end! idk if this makes sense but i loved your other fics of clarisse! tyyy xxx

Jock!Clarisse La Rue x NerdFem!Reader

AN - Hey! Sorry, this took me so long to answer I didn't notice I had a request!!

I also don't know If you want this as a modern HC or camp .... so we are gonna do Modern and kinda mix it up! xoxo - Emma

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Clarisse was someone everyone knew about, she was the star on the field for the hammer throw (Which for those who dont know is when you throw a heavy ball in the air and you try to make it go a far distance … requires a LOT of upper arm muscles)

Everyone admired her, but you? You hate her. She always had something to say, especially ever since the day that you said no to givng her the homework answers.

Every since that day she always picked on you, saying something that made you roll your eyes and tell her to get lost.

If you havent figured it out yet the reason why this all started was because dhe thought you were smart … everyone does, and thats why she had asked you for the answers. She though you would have said yes, an easy target, but she was mistaken when she realized how stubborn you are.

“What is the answer to this.” You heard a voice ask, disturbing your peaceful evening in the library. “When will you ever stop.” You mumbled, not even having to look up to realize it was Clarisse.

“Once you give me the answers” She answered with a roll to her eyes as if you should have already known the answer.

You stood up grabbing your book but before you fully stepped away from the table you grabbed your notebook before she could grab it which made her sigh. Getting up she followed you as you walked down the dark isles of books, dim lights following the two of you.

“Don't you have practice to get to?” you asked softly stopping abruptly which caused her to almost crash into you, “stalking me Y/n? How do you know I got practice.” She asked, not stopping the smirk that covered her face.

You turned to look at her, an annoyed look on your face “Everyone knows when you have practice… don't go thinking you're so special now.” you mumbled starting to walk again but she cut off your exit by standing in front of you and raising her arms. “Where are you going so soon?” she asked a piece of her hair falling in her face and for a moment you felt something change in your stomach, maybe it was a fear or maybe it was butterflies.

“Clarisse … move.” You mumbled, looking to meet her in the eyes but she shook her head “Give me the answers.” She spoke clearly, her smile dropping “I told you, Clarisse, keep dreaming.” she rolled her eyes and shook her head “I don't think you understand”

“I don't understand? You're the one who keeps trying to get answers from me even when I say no. if you don't understand the work then maybe you could ask me for help instead.” You spoke back with more of an annoyed voice, pushing her arms down which felt so strong in your grasp, and then walked away.

She followed your figure as you walked, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned her weight onto one hip. “You’ll regret this.” She yelled out and you just waved her off.

The next day you continued your life as usual, but this time you felt more people staring at you. It wasn't until your friend stopped you in the hallway did you found out why “Is it true?” she asked to which you looked at her with a puzzled look “Is what true?” you mumbled and she seemed even more confused “that you made a move on Clarisse.”

You stopped for a moment “Hello? Clarisse? The girl I hate with all my life? No way.” you let out a chuckle at the thought, but you couldn’t help the shake in your hands increase. You didn't know who made this rumor, or why they did it in the first place.

You have no issues with anyone (Except Clarisse) always trying to help others (Except Clarisse) theres no reason as to why someone would make such a weird rumor.

Later that day you found yourself in the library again, helping the librarian put the books away. You were on the top floor that no one ever really went to unless it was to make out. You looked outside the window and saw the teams playing on the field, Clarisse and her teammates had finished up because you saw her swinging her bag over her shoulder and walking off towards the library.

You let out an annoyed sigh hoping she wouldn't find you, but just as you thought of her you sweard she looked up at you.

So you quickly pushed the cart forward so you weren't in front of the window anymore.

It didn't take long for her to find you, you turned down an aisle and saw her standing there leaning against the shelf. “Can I help you?” you asked as you grabbed a book and traced the shelf until you found a spot for it.

“Just wanted to see if you liked the little rumor?” she smiled coming closer to you “Oh yeah it was very clever” you spoke with a shrug as you walked down the aisle moving so you wouldn't hit her “All the teams were talking about it at practice.” You felt embarrassed for a moment but just shrugged your shoulders.

“Okay … oh and by the way Mrs.Cofin wants me to help you in English.” You mumbled as you turned back to look at her, her smirk wiped off. “What! You little shit why didn’t you say no!”

She yelled and you quickly hushed her “Don't you think I wanted to! I have no choice, if you don't pass her class you'll be kicked off the time. I’m doing you and the school a favor.”

You spoke annoyed, a frown on your face as she licked her lip and rolled her eyes, “Fine” she grumbled and walked off which made you shake your head.

The next day you were back in the Library, top floor for privacy as you sat at a small table. Clarisse showed up late which didnt surprise you, she flung her bag onto the floor and leaned on the psalm of her hand.

You started to explain things to her looking over the notes the teacher had given you to help her. Clarisse couldn't help but not listen, she just stared at you with annoyance, but after a while, it started to feel like she was looking at you for another reason.

“Okay do you understand that?” you asked and she nodded her head, adverting her gaze from you and instead at the paper. “Yeah… yeah I understand” she spoke softly.

These tutoring sessions continued for the next few weeks, and even though it sucked, it started to feel like you both hated each other less.

She started to listen to what you said, and you took the time to learn about her sport so when she complained you understood what she was saying.

You both still made fun of each other, bickered often, and rolled your eyes at each other, but you both couldn't help it, it's just how it's always been.

But Clarisse picked on you less, smiled at you in the hallway, and always acknowledged your presence, and thats all you've ever needed from her.

One day something in the air made you think differently about her, and the thoughts made your stomach flutter. It didn't help that your friend started to tease you in the hallway about the possibility of her taking you to the upcoming prom since the two of you got along.

When you saw her walk past you in the hallway when you were with your friend, you couldn't help but follow her with your eyes, and when she smiled at you, your friend just watched you and how you reacted and let out a squeal when she saw you blush.

That afternoon you hated yourself, why did you like the girl that always had it out for you.

As you waited for her in the library, you laid your head down on the table, you wouldn't even work out if you started dating anyways. The two of you are complete opposites, and even know that you are semi-friends you still bicker, it would be a bad relationship.

Plus you saw her with that boy Ryan, so she probably doesn't even like girls.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt someone tapped your head and sat down. You raised your gaze and watched as she got herself comfortable in her seat “What's wrong with you today?” she asked with a sigh as she finally stopped to look at you.

“Nothing … just thinking.”

“When are you not.” she snickered, but as she looked back at you, and realized you seemed actually upset her smile dropped.

“Okay … that's enough, just tell me what's wrong so you'll start yapping and we can end tutoring early,” she spoke up leaning back in the chair, her hand playing with the pencil she took from you 2 days ago.

"It's nothing really. Just something my friend said.” You mumbled shaking your head and opening your notebook. “Really? What’d she say.” Clarisse spoke a bit harsher sitting up in her chair. “I can do something.”

You shook your head “No! You don't have to do anything … it's not like we are together you don't have to take care of me.” You mumbled which made you mentally smack yourself ... who says that!

She paused and watched you as you flipped through your pages “Okay but what if I want to.”

You paused and looked at her confused “Want to what?”

“Take care of you,” she answered, a serious look on her face. You let out a short chuckle and looked away from her “You don't want to.”

“But I do.” She answered, you noticed how she sat up more, something she did when she was getting defensive, her knuckles turned slightly white as she clenched her hands, the rings cutting off some of her circulation.

"you really don't" you mumbled trying to convince yourself she didn't for some reason

“Says who,” she replied, her face still straight which confused you. Clarisse was being honest she wanted to help you, this whole time she always wanted to and the only reason she picked on you was that she knew no one else would, you were hers only.

“Says you Clarisse, you hate me.” You replied, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion as if you had missed something.

She scoffed “I thought you were smart.” She dropped the pencil on the table and slouched in the chair, her arms crossing over her stomach as her legs widened.

Your mouth slightly opened and you shook your head back, confused “I'm sorry … did I miss something?” you asked and she scoffed “Yeah maybe the part where I like you! Do you really think I would’ve complied with these tutoring sessions if I didn't?”

“Uhm yeah … your sport-” She cut you off “ That I dont care about.”

“Okay, but the rumor-” She cut you off again “Was only created so people thought you were only into me so no one would go after you.”

You sat there dumfounded for a few moments, “Oh”

“Oh” she answered back, she looked away for a moment “So I’m guessing you dont like me?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head “Okay woah woah woah … lets slow down partener.” you raised your hands slightly and opened your eyes to see her smiling, inching closer to you.

Before you knew it her lips were on yours, and you had your arms wrapped around her shoulders. You never thought you would be one of those people who would be found making out in the library, yet here you are.

A nerd and a jock, opposites attract I suppose.

Anywho after a few moments she finally pulled back, a smile gracing her red lips that were plum from the kiss. “So I’ll take that as a yes?”

“A yes to what?” you asked still in a bet of a haze “A yes to being my prom date.”

“Oh yeah”

#percy jackon and the olympians #x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #wlw #percy jackson #camp half blood #dior goodjohn #luke castellan

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owlespresso · 23 days

Text

the red fruit which ripens

alpha!blade/beta!reader you are a beta courier. one of your clients is getting too close. tags: blackmail, mind games, nonconsensual touching, blade and luocha are just weirdos idk pt 2 of my part in @lorelune's a/b/o collab. the first part can be read here.

You have never known peace. You doubt any emanator ever has. The Mother of Harmony, of peace, bestowed upon you a fraction of her immortal grace. She cored herself, tore out a seed—jewel like and glistening, and beckoned you to feast. The taste went down so smooth and sweet.

That was the first and last time you held your blessing in awe. Xipe sentenced you, that day, to never know the peace she covets. You could catch glimpses of it, inhale the scent of it deep, but it would fade like morning mist, chased away by the winds of chaos and whatever awful business you were to tend to next.

When you strayed from The Family, tore yourself free of their clutches and hid where their millions of bulging eyes could not find you; you believed it possible to know peace. Perhaps not immediately. There was so much to take care of during your first days on the Luofu, paperwork and apartment hunting. It was all jarringly normal. You were mystified by the mundanity, delighted by it even. The world suddenly closed in for the better. There were no enemy factions to worry about corralling, no petty politics, no attempts to usurp you or take your life.

The world became the Luofu. It became your apartment. It became your favorite food stalls and your neighbors and the little birds fluttering about in the trees.

But it was not peace. Soon, you came to realize that even the average Luofu citizen did not know the concept as intimate as you hoped. They live in fear of Mara, of the Abundance, which they are so intimately intertwined with. Every pain is a life threatening risk, a potential trigger to a deadly malady. Outside of the Abundance, so many run themselves ragged, weighted by long work hours and petty squabbles with loved ones. The kindly folk by the docks find themselves cornered by the IPC.

No mortal knows peace, you have come to realize. Perfect tranquility is a ripe and red lie, birthed gold and glistening from the Goddess’s many lips, spread carelessly and listlessly across the universe. Unattainable by the emanator’s closest to her.

You believed once, and it hurt you. Not again. You will heed no honeyed words. You can only believe in what is cold, concrete, and solid.

—

“I feel like—” you begin, pushing through the rusted metal paneling of the dilapidated fence. “—you could have gotten here by yourself.” You usually don’t talk this much, but Blade’s habitual silence combined with your burgeoning irritation leaves you uncharacteristically eager to complain aloud.

The abandoned warehouse looms an eerie, empty monument of crumbling sheet metal and shattered glass. Long columns of broken machinery are gutted in pieces across the concrete yard. You make note to return later, just to make sure you’re not leaving valuable goods out to waste.

“I have never been here before. Kafka thought it wise to come with a guide.”

“And what do you think?” you pause, shoulder buried in the outside paneling of the building itself.

“What I think… does not matter.” Blade says cooly. “A blade is meant to be wielded. It does not choose who it cuts down or where it goes.”

“Hm,” you don’t have much to say to that. You shouldn’t have opened your yap in the first place. The less you know about the bizarre relations of the Stellaron Hunters, the better. You squeeze into the building through the gap. Blade hardly two paces behind. The metal groans and squeaks as he forces his way in. It feels like the loudest sound you’ve ever fucking heard, an offensive and high pitched screech that probably rings through the yard and neighboring alleyways.

“At least try to be a little quieter,” you grumble, squinting into the dark. The main room is made a maze by haphazardly laid out storage containers, many cracked open and already emptied. Wires hang from the ceiling, which has become an amalgamation of mechanical matter and rotting parts. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Black grunts his assent.

“Well. You’re here, safe and sound.” you waste no time, doubling back towards the Blade-shaped hole in the wall. Did he just walk straight through!? What are they feeding this guy? “So I—”

The sound of thundering footsteps and approaching shouts freezes you mid-step. Momentary panic jars you still. The Cloud Knights? Here? Now?

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you turn tail, ready to haul ass in the opposite direction, only to collide face-first with Blade’s firm chest. He jostles you to the side with his shoulder, ignoring your grunt of complaint. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade. Your stomach jumps into your throat.

“Where are you going!?” you hiss.

“To take care of the vermin,” Blade replies drolly, looking down his nose at you. His lips twitch into the beginnings of a puzzled frown.

“Absolutely not!” you say, and his frown pulls deeper. “Where there’s ten, there’s bound to be twenty waiting to back them up.”

It is unlike you to be so bold, but you seize him by the wrist, pulling him further into the jagged steel labyrinth. He allows himself to be led, surprisingly docile as you round corners and scuttle down corridors. Pale moonlight covers the room in a silvery sheen, providing just enough light for you to make out a door embedded into the outermost wall. Footsteps echo around you, calling voices made cacophonous by the echo. Blade’s grip on your hand tightens, likely annoyed and sorely tempted to begin the slaughter, but you yank open the door and jam yourself inside what seems to be a cramped server room.

A few circuit towers stand side-by-side, dark and dusty with disuse. Blade shuts the door behind you, opening his mouth to speak, but you’re already wedging yourself into the lone aisle between the wall and the towers, pulling him behind you.

A few moments later sees you crammed in the narrow space. The back wall and server towers rise on either side of you, caging you up against your troublesome accomplice. One of Blade’s thighs presses tight to your own. Warm and firm. The proximity betrays what you’ve expected since your first meeting. Blade is an alpha. Only now, brought so obscenely close, are you fully able to realize that. It’s a footnote in comparison to your agitation, which swims and simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

“How long were they following us for?” you grumble aloud. “Tell Kafka she owes an extra 20% when you see her, and that I’m not doing this ever again.”

Blade sighs out of his nose. You can’t see his face well enough to make out his expression.

“You’re wearing a mask. Your identity is safe.” he says.

“The threat of being arrested still remains,” you grumble, listening to the clamorous noise outside. Trained troops rush back and forth, kicking up dust and old grease. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying, beyond a few paltry words, but no one has yet knocked on the door. Surely a good sign.

Blade squeezes your hand, and subsequently reminds you that you are holding it.

“That won’t happen. Destiny’s Slave would not risk your safety over something so simple. No harm will come to you, tonight.”

Well, isn’t that comforting. You wrest your hand away with a scowl, and clamp down on the pressing urge to let him know what you really think about his boss. He stares down at the place where your hands were once joined.

The next half-hour passes in relative silence. His eyes are all that is visible in the empty dark of the room, candlewick embers extinguished when he shuts them and leans back against the wall.

Eventually, the outside noise quiets. No more thudding boots or searching shouts, the warehouse silent as it had been when you arrived. Shimmying out from the pitch dark crevice is much more awkward without the frantic adrenaline, but you manage it, emerging in a new layer of dust.

“Alright. I’m heading out. Be careful.”

“They won’t return anytime soon,” Blade remains inside, arms crossed and impassive. Your frown deepens. You clamber through a hole in the wall. No Knights have remained behind. You feared a few would have stayed just in case, but none leap out from behind the rubble. Which means that the horrible feeling prickling up the back of your neck is just Blade’s cold, empty gaze trained on your retreating form.

Strange beast, you think to yourself, scuttling into the nearest alleyway.

—

One of your favorite things about Luocha’s home is that he is hardly ever in it. The first time you met him after helping him with his pre-heat, he pressed a silver house key into your palms, before turning and leaving. Not even allowing you to splutter a single, indignant protest. Back then, you mentally swore that you wouldn’t use it.

Now, you use it almost everyday. His neighborhood, smack dab in the middle of the Luofu, intersects with several of your regular routes. It’s just too easy so slide in between deliveries for a quick rest. It helps that he’s hardly ever home, leaving you to pilfer snacks from his fridge and take brief naps on the couch. You haven’t been bold enough to stay overnight. You’ve become far, far too intimate with the man.

No more, you decide, and stay firm to that decision even when he beseeches your company not a week later. It’s rude, but you can’t risk getting anymore attached than you already are. He’s become a bothersome burr stuck to your side, a looming presence in your thoughts even when he’s far across the stars, doing Xipe knows what.

There’s a knock at the door. You startle, because this has never happened before. You remain stock still on the couch. If you remain still, surely whoever is out there will get the message and bugger off. Another knock. You should have known that any solicitor determined to walk through the forest of a front yard would be too stubborn to give up after only seven knocks.

At the eleventh, you get up and stomp to the door. It’s mostly to preserve your own sanity.

You throw open the door, prepared to give the nosy bastard on the other side an earful.

It’s Blade. Blade is stood there. He blots out the afternoon sun, leaving you in the shadow he casts. It’s like seeing your clothes in the fridge. You blink several times.

“Ah. It’s you.”

“It is,” He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand.

“What… why are you here?”

“Kafka’s orders. She wanted you to have these,” he hands you the bouquet. You receive it. Fresh petunias and sprigs of rosemary curl next to daisies and tulips. It’s a nonsensical thing. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Nothing particularly artful about the presentation besides the pretty colors.

“I see… Is this your home?” He looks like he already knows the answer.

You decide not to humor him. You tuck the bouquet underneath your arm and lean up against the doorframe. “What’s it to you?”

He blinks, looks confused, and then responds after a moment of silent thought. “I… there is someone else who lives here. I remember it clearly, now.”

“You two know each other, huh? What a coincidence. But… how did you know where I was?”

“I asked the woman next door. She directed me here. I’ve been searching for you since the early morning.”

“All morning?” you tut, somewhat sympathetic. “That’s a lot of walking.”

“It is nothing compared to other pains I have endured.” Blade says, solemnly. “And I have traveled far greater distances on foot. You shouldn’t worry.”

“...Well,” you stare down at the bouquet for a moment. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t give you anything for the effort. You know that big, red maple by the pond? Go sit there. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Two minutes later sees you outside, cradling two crystalline glasses filled with lemonade. You didn’t get him the fancy stuff—the strawberry-kiwi-whatever fruit stuff that you hand mixed. But it’s something.

He’s hunched beneath the red canopy. There’s a dark, inky type of handsomeness he possesses. Dark hair tumbles down his back, shaggy bangs frame that wolfish face. He looks dour almost all the time. Like the frown lines and cold apathy have permanently creased it. He’s hunched beneath the shade. Like it sits on his shoulders as a physical weight. He looks up at you as you settle next to him, accepts his glass without fuss or thanks. Which is just fine, with you. You probably shouldn’t be doing this, anyways. He’s an intergalactic criminal. The less time you spend together, the better.

But at the same time… you can’t help but be curious. Curious about the mara which buzzes underneath his skin, yet somehow never breaches it. Curious about what manner of creature he must be to withstand the final stages of Yaoshi’s curse. Curious if there’s any real, lingering emotion beyond the stoicism he treats… well, everything with.

The two of you sit in silence and sip. You don’t feel any need for artificial conversation. It’s easy to sit down and simply exist next to him. No impulsive need for niceties.

“This house isn’t yours,” he says.

“No. The owner is a client of mine. He lets me stop by here, in between deliveries. It’s convenient.”

A few beats of silence. “How well do you know the man that lives here?”

“As well as I know any other client,” he looks at you expectantly, as though waiting for you to finish that statement. “Which isn’t very well. He’s not here most of the time.”

“You should remain cautious while in his presence,” he says, and you nearly raise a brow at the unsolicited advice. He levels you with his dull, candlewick gaze, as impassive as ever. A leaf flutters from the lowest branches onto his head. “That man draws his power from the source of the mara. He wields it under the guise of a blessing, and yet…” Blade frowns, almost a grimace, and doesn’t say anything else.

“I know.”

“Yet you take shelter under his roof and exist willingly in his space.” Blade stares at you. There’s a faint bristling in the air. A shuddering of the atmosphere that emerges from him. Thorny tendrils of bitter gold crackle beneath his pale skin. You don’t know exactly what aggrieves him so, but you get the feeling that you should say something to appease him, quickly.

“Well. I don’t know any other rich diplomats willing to offer me a free, mostly empty house to take a break in for… around twenty minutes a day,” you shrug. “It’s convenient.”

That seems to settle him.

“Do you… not like him? The merchant?” Does he even know Luocha’s name? What kind of relationship do these two weirdos have?

“In the strange purgatory of my existence, he acts as both poison and cure.” Blade informs you, as if it tells you really anything. As if sensing your befuddlement, he deflates a little, nose scrunching. He looks like a dour cat, stuck out in the rain. “He wants something from me. I can’t tell what it is. His unseemly fascination means it can be nothing good.” His attempt at elaboration gives you somewhat of a clearer picture, but it’s still some insanity that you’ll have to unpack later.

“I see. I’ll make sure to remember that,” you’re not sure if it’s possible to forget a conversation with Blade. Especially one that lasts more than a few moments. What prompted this? Genuine concern for your well-being? You have a hard time believing that. There are many things that are better off left unsaid, in your experience, so you don’t ask.

The rest of the visit passes in relative quiet. Blade finishes his lemonade.

You reach over. His gaze snaps to you immediately, a beaten dog evaluating a potential threat.

“You have something in your hair,” you inform him helpfully, plucking the leaf from his sable locks. You curl the stem around your fingers.

He doesn’t say anything after that. The two of you stand. He murmurs a brief farewell, and is off through the yard, slipping through the ferns to become one with the cast shadows. You’re not sure how long you remain after he leaves. The pond water ripples with each gentle breeze. Glimmering koi bob to the surface, in search of mid-afternoon snacks. When they find none, they dive beneath, water droplets flickering off their lashing tail fins.

Well, you think after another moment, at least you learned something.

Now, it is high time that you tend to the bouquet so generously sent your way. You dump the glasses in the sink, halfheartedly vowing to deal with them later, before taking a closer look at the arrangement of flowers. As you expected, it’s more than a paltry, sentimental gift. Tucked into the plastic wrapping is a small card.

Bladie said you got in quite the mess, the other day. You have my deepest gratitude for handling it so cleanly. He’s not that good at talking things out. He seems to like you, though! I wonder what makes you so special?

P.S. Next Tuesday, please escort Bladie to the address written on the back of this note. Please? Do it for me. :)

—

You hate working with criminals. Criminals other than yourself.

Though, you don’t fancy yourself much a criminal. Deliveries are an entirely different beast, simple points of contact which last at most for five minutes. Escorting a known, intergalactic criminal through multiple layers of the Luofu is completely different—something you would never do if anyone besides Kafka asked. You’ll dance to her tune, run her errands if it keeps you off her shitlist. But is there even a point if keeping off of hers just puts you onto someone else’s?

You’ll have some fierce thinking to do after you shake off the six Cloud Knights currently on your tail. You dive between market stalls. You leap over a counter, sending an array of fruits and vegetables tumbling onto the pavement. You ignore the enraged shout of the peddler behind you, pulse thundering in your ears as you weave between the passerby, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates.

The air stings at the corners of your eyes. The marketplace blends together to the point of featurelessness. You don’t know who you pass or what else you know over, too focused on what’s ahead to care about the wreckage left behind. At the very least, it may hamper the Knights as they shout and stomp and rush after you—and Blade, whose fault all this is.

You slide around a corner and into a red-bricked alleyway, lanterns strung between the two rooftops, gold and glittering against that fake, blue sky.

“Dead end.” Blade grunts. You hear the telltale click of his sword being unsheathed.

“No! Just follow me!” you snap, seizing his wrist and pulling him forward, all the way to the end. As you trudge forward, you tap a sequence into the walls on either side. The worn clay surfaces are coarse under your fingertips. None move after you touch them, but you feel a subtle shift in the energy as it rushes down to the focal point. The pattern ends at the back of the alley. You tap a chipped, ragged brick embedded into the dead-end wall. The slabs unfold, layer-by-layer, to form an opening.

You pull him through.

It folds shut behind you, the quiet sound of grinding stone following you through the passage. The hollering and thudding of the pursuit have been silenced. Their chaos of the market sealed away behind the otherwise impenetrable seal. You doubt the low-ranking footmen who chased you will know the way.

Yellow-green vines crawl up the pulsing walls. Luminous particles bob and float in the air like fireflies. The place is silent, leaving you with only the sound of your own panting and Blade—Blade’s rasping, spluttering wheezes.

You stop, right where you are, because you have never heard him make such a sound before. Even after a chase, or a fight.

The passage opens to a wider tunnel up ahead. You drop Blade’s hand, and turn to look at him. The adrenaline is fading, now leaving room for fresh, common sense.

Blades hunches up against the wall. The air enters and leaves his lungs in winded, rushed wheezes. His eyes are wide and unseeing. Those candlewick irises dart from the floor, to the place where your hands had been joined, and finally, then, to you.

A scent, like firewood charred too long, blistering into crumbled charcoal, blooms in and clouds the thin space. It’s like nothing you’ve ever smelled before, the vicious pheromones of an alpha at the very end of their tether. Something more, too, something earthen and ancient and charged. A flavor which has graced your palate only once or twice before.

Encroaching mara. You don’t know what he’s like, when his symptoms flare. You’re not eager to find out. The capricious nature of his mara has not once posed a threat to you. But his composure is slipping, his hands curling like claws and flexing. Like he’s getting a feel for his own body. Like the joints are sore and need stretching.

“Blade,” you stumble forward, pressing your palm to the cold, pale pane of his cheek. “Blade, look at me.”

His shaky irises hover awkwardly over your shoulder, before at last meeting your gaze.

“It approaches,” he rasps, looking as haunted as you have ever seen him.

“Blade, do not let the mara take you.” you take in a deep, steadying breath. The violent pulsing in your ears returns in full force, the unhinged mass of his disease gnawing at your physical form.

Bracing yourself, you reach within. You touch the very bottom of your long neglected wellspring. Harmonic Essence leaps to the surface, warm and loving and so eager to be put to use. It feels like an old coat slipped around your shoulders, a familiarity you wouldn’t dare indulge in under ordinary circumstances. It is a power long wasted on you, but useful this very once. It pulses from underneath your fingertips, washes underneath his pallid skin.

The acrid taste of his mara brashes against the tip of your tongue for a single, fleeting moment. It then skitters backwards. Retreats into the dark, churning void of what you assume to be his subconsciousness. It’s a temporary balancing of the scales, but his wild pulse settles.

You sigh, shoulder slumping in relief. The tension winds out of your body, hand dropping back to your side.

He still looms above you, jet black hair curtaining you in. When did he get so close? Or had it been you in your haste to soothe him? He runs hot as a hearth, the warmth which radiates from him thick enough to feel. This close, you can see his every breath, soft mounds of his chest straining the fastenings which hold his shirt together. Slender stripes of pale skin peek through his chest wrappings. You swallow and look away, up at the strong column of his neck.

“Are you with me?” you murmur. You don’t dare move, lest your retreat trigger the chase instinct which some alphas are known to possess. You don’t like making assumptions. You feel like Blade would be among that number anyways.

“Yes,” Blade’s voice is sandpaper rough. He moves before you do, shouldering past you into the wider tunnel. “You make use of these often, I take it.”

As though nothing had ever happened. Something bitter churns in your gut, but you don’t bring it up. There’s no reason to. He probably wants to distance himself from this episode as quickly as possible. You don’t blame him. The mara must be a humiliating affliction to live and cope with.

“It’s the fastest way to get around,” you break into a brisk walk, overtaking him. You’re the one who knows your way around, here.

“The mara would rend asunder the minds of anyone not wearing the correct protective gear,” Blade observes. There’s nothing pointed in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes your skin crawl. Its keen focus is that of an apex predator’s, a beast somehow sated enough to keep his teeth from your throat. How long will that last? Fifteen minutes? An hour? The air here swelters with abundance. His mara must sup on it like a starved prisoner, far stronger and fuller than it could ever be on the surface.

He could easily match your pace, but he chooses to walk behind you.

“I could say the same for you.”

“I am an abomination of Yaoshi. The abundance has already taken hold of me.” Blade says, grimacing. You toy with the fraying edge of your sleeve between your forefinger and thumb. “All the saturation here does is spur on the symptoms.”

You make a face. He must sense your unease.

“I should be able to resist the pull until we surface. Provided we do not linger overlong.” Blade replies. It does remarkably little to reassure you.

A predator stalks at your back, one whose sanity may pop like an overfilled balloon at really any moment. Against your better sense, you feel anxiety lash at the bottom of your stomach, guts churning with that primal fear.

“Reassuring.” you bite out thoughtlessly.

“It would be in your best interest to focus on finding a way out, rather than back-talking me.” Blade says, and you swallow.

“Back-talking? I think my frustration is quite justified. You’re the reason we’re in this mess, after all.” you pointedly remind him. The words roll bitter off your tongue. Prickling discomfort coalesces with the saturation of abundance in the air, becoming a consistent buzz against the back of your skull.

Blade makes a ragged little noise, wedged between a wheeze and a laugh.

“Another do I make pay the price. I was not always like this. deathless beast borne of blind ambition and hubris…” he trails off. “I was once a man. Death walked with me as it walked with every other. It was never meant to—to become—”

A distorted warble slowly creeps into his voice. Shit, you just shouldn’t have said anything. The hovering energy coalesces, thin whispers congealing into thick, mist-like mass around him. It’s drawn to him.

“What’s your favorite food?” you turn on your heel and ask, crossing your arms. He looks down at you, brows furrowing as he roots around for an answer. “You haven’t thought about it, have you?” Do the mara-struck even have to eat? Blade is a particularly unique case among them, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he even remembers to eat. He is a blade, according to his own words. And a blade doesn’t need to eat. How desolate an existence he must have lived. Must still be living if his own preferences evade him.

“Well. Try to find an answer while I get us out of here.” you command. He’s quiet for the remainder of the trek. You emerge topside and immediately feel several pounds lighter. The air is fresh and sweet, the skies blue and open. You’re two blocks from your apartment in a dark, neglected alleyway.

“You can find your way back from here,” you sigh, chancing a glance at your companion as you stretch your arms above your head. “Right?”

He’s still quiet. You don’t sense the acrid tang of the illness. He looks thoughtful. You wish he would just give you an answer already. You’re not eager to be chanced upon again by a patrol, or by any other witnesses for that matter.

“Your question. I don’t have an answer.” Blade says. He sounds almost regretful.

Over your few interactions, you’ve come to realize that not much bothers him. Very little manages to budge that glacial mien. His demeanor, as you have come to understand, either sits as stoney neutrality or maniacal, giddy rage. The shades between are so very visited.

“It’s no big deal. You can just tell me next time, if you want.” If he even remembers. The idea of turning your back to him still riddles you with unease, but you do it anyway. Your steps are slow and measured. He stares you down until you disappear around the corner, meld into the crowds like just another thread in a blanket.

—

The sky above hangs a pale grey. It’s the threat of a light drizzle rather than a raging storm. You slip through the abundant foliage of Luocha’s front yard, unable but to notice that the shrubs and vibrant blooms have somehow grown in size since your last visit. The greens are hearty, fresh dewdrops glimmering off grass and unfurled leaves.

It’s not difficult to spot him. He’s lounged beneath the sole scarlet maple of the yard. He’s a spot of red himself, swathed in a richly-colored, likely richly-made, robe of it. The fabric pools on the lawn chair he lounges atop of. His eyes are shut, blonde lashes fanning against his perfect cheeks. Those eyes open as you skirt along the jagged stone edge of the pond, manilla envelope clutched in your left hand. He smiles, but does not lift his head. Sumptuous locks of golden blonde fan out behind his head like a halo. The very picture of serenity.

“Well, well. To what do I owe this visit?” he tilts his head, smiling like a contented cat. You huff, and avoid looking below his neck, where the plush robe parts to reveal the pale soft of his chest. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but any sliver of intimacy you may have granted him has long passed. The moment you look down, he’ll notice and impose upon you another outlandish favor.

“Don’t get excited.” You hand him the package, and begin to pull back, but he’s faster. He darts for you like a viper. Long fingers curl around your wrist to hold you in place. The look in his eyes is beseeching. He gently deposits the envelope on the side table next to his seat. He doesn’t look away from you for even a moment.

“Always so busy… doesn’t it exhaust you?” he murmurs, a sympathetic coo. He’s putting just enough strain on your arm to make standing uncomfortable, in hopes that you’ll sit down beside him.

“No. I’m used to it. I like being busy,” you bear the ache in your arm with unyielding ease. It is so small and insignificant in comparison to every other you have endured.

“Do you… like being busy, or is it that you’ve never known anything else?” Luocha tilts his head to the side, smiling. Your skin prickles. You resist the urge to swallow.

“You know what they say about assumptions.”

“Which is why I’m glad I’m not making one. You go to awfully desperate lengths to not be known, Courier.”

The corners of your lips twitch downwards, and his eyes gleam. “Don’t be coy with me. Did you talk to them?” You ask. The question has lingered on your mind for weeks, leaving you restless and more unkind than usual. The persistent threat of him is always at the back of your mind, represented in the throbbing between your temples, in the harshness of your voice as you snap at someone who might not deserve it. There’s no sense in beating around the bush, anymore. Not if you want to preserve your sanity.

“How very vague, for someone who just accused me of being coy. Be at ease, I haven’t had any contact with The Family. Merely some… particularly useful informants who have heard a thing or two. Hunches based on speculation that you’ve proven by being cagey.” Luocha assures you.

“...So, what do you want from me?”

“Merely conversation. I do find our interactions so compelling, however short they may be.”

“Being blackmailed doesn’t put me in the mood for conversation. There’s not much for us to talk about.”

“I beg to differ. I know so very little about you, despite all we’ve shared. I’m curious—what set you on the path of Harmony?”

“...” You look away, internally evaluating the pros and cons of going along with his little game. “Peace. She promised us peace. Because that’s what Harmony was supposed to be.” His eyes soften. The indignation sizzling inside of you sparks into a raw flame (he has no right to look at you like that), but you smother it.

“Did it live up to your expectations?” he asks. His thumb rubs circles against the hollow of your wrist. His gaze sweeps from your face, down your arm, to where he’s still got you. He’s waiting for you to be vulnerable, you just know it. A shark that smells blood in the water, circling and searching for tender flesh to lay its rows of teeth into. How does he imagine it will taste? Soft and meaty, melting underneath teeth and tongue? Layers of skin peeled back and pried open, made thin by older slices?

“It didn’t work out.” you reply. sagacious enough to play along only minimally. When you elaborate no further, he releases you with a smile.

“How interesting,” he hums. He reclines further, eyes fluttering shut. You could pounce on him so easily, like this. You could fix your teeth into his jugular and make it so he never threatens you again. The blood would be so warm in your mouth. His skin would be so sweet.

Don’t be gross. You grimace.

He drums his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

The fluttering of wings erupts in the canopy above you, a flock of songbirds taking an afternoon flight. He cracks open his eyes, then. He tracks some sort of movement (you aren’t looking up), idle, like you aren’t even there. He tilts his head to the side, the slender column of his neck completely exposed. The robe slips off of his shoulders, curvature of his collarbones and soft expanse of his chest open for your viewing pleasure. You’re annoyed.

“I’ve held you long enough,” he sighs. “Thank you for sharing. Though, I do hope we can manage a longer conversation next time.”

“We’ll see,” you just barely keep a sigh out of your voice as you turn to leave, speed-walking up the grassy slope.

—

“That old man’s damn cat has been coming into the yard and bothering all the birds,” you grumble, squinting into the aforementioned patch of forest.

Blade makes a noncommittal noise, indicating that he’s heard you.

“It pisses me off.”

“You care about the birds in someone else’s yard.” Blade observes. You frown deeper.

“It’s annoying. Cats are an invasive species, here. They slaughter all of the native wildlife—and sometimes they don’t even eat what they kill,” you sigh, tampering down your rising agitation. If you’ve learned one thing in your short and storied life, it’s that being impassioned isn’t good for you.

“So, how would you suggest the problem be solved? If the owner insists on letting it out…”

“I don’t really live here, so it’s not like I have any right to get involved,” you shrug, “It’s just… if you’re gonna be that irresponsible with an animal, you don’t deserve to have it. You know?”

Blade makes another noise. Closer to a hum, this time. You don’t know if he knows or not. But you do know that he’s listening. You stare into the yard, and in your periphery you can see him staring at you.

—

You see Blade more in the coming days. Despite your best attempts, a routine slips into being, like weeds through cracks in the cement. Silver Wolf doesn’t show up to accept her own packages nearly as much, anymore. It’s almost always Blade. You see him so often that you question if he even has a job anymore.

He glowers. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He says, low voice almost lost amongst the bustle of the crowd. The markets are especially full today. Nestled in the crook of your elbow is a plastic shopping basket, loaded with some bread, some spices, and some vegetables. The stall you’re at rests beneath a red tarp, casts warm shadows onto his pale, bone-weary skin. “There are currently no tasks which command my presence at the moment.”

“Well. It’s good to have time off, but you don’t need to follow me around.”

“...” he doesn’t reply, but he does follow you all the way up to the counter. You can’t tell if he doesn’t understand the nuance, or if he’s just being bizarre and stubborn. Regardless, tailing you like a lost puppy seems to alleviate his boredom. To each their own.

“If you’re just going to walk behind me, can you—” you shift the basket from the crook of your arm, preparing to offer it. He snatches it from you before you can even finish speaking.

“...Thanks.”

He takes his newfound job as the basket carrier very seriously. His dour face doesn't budge an inch as you peruse the rest of the wares, plucking a few items from open crates and wooden shelves to add to the bundle.

“So, see anything that piques your interest?” you’re not sure what prompts you to speak up. You should get through this as silently and as quickly as possible. The less time you spend in public with this man, the better. The presence of the Cloud Knights isn’t nearly as felt on this level, making it as safe a haven for criminals as can be. You suspect, sometimes, that it’s purposeful. In your many travels, you have come to realize that the criminal class is a valuable part of any economy, no matter how much those at the top may protest it. Those who disavow it the most fervently are usually the most involved, under the table.

Blade doesn’t respond, at first. His crimson gaze glances over the nearby shelves. He grabs a bottle of cloves and presents it to you, completely straight-faced.

You get the overwhelming sense he’s appeasing you more than anything.

“...Yeah,” you pluck it from his hand and halfheartedly eye the label. It’s hard to muster the energy to argue with him, especially when he looks so resolute. The fact that he’s continuing to tail you through the market is cause enough to ignore him. You drop the bottle into your basket and move on.

Thankfully, the rest of the trip passes in peaceful silence. You can feel Blade’s gaze, unreadable, lingering on your form as you pull your wallet out of one of your many pockets. The shopkeep, a sprightly young man with a head of bouncy, brown hair beams at the sight of you. You don’t remember his name, but you’re familiar with him. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts his mouth tight before he can get a word out.

He glances over your shoulder. You swivel just barely to look at your stubborn shadow. Blade looms closer than you remember him being, leaving you with an up close and personal view of his chest. You tsk and look up at his face.

“Can you get a bottle of white cardamom for me? It should be with the rest of the spices.”

Blade looks at you, and looks at the shopkeep. He is silent. The lines of his face are harsher than usual, burdened with deeper shadow. For a few, agonizing moments, you fear he may object, but he turns almost robotically and walks off. You’re not sure what’s upset him this time. You don’t particularly care. If you troubled yourself with the qualms of every pouting client, you’d be just as miserable as you were with The Family.

“Thanks. I could hardly get a word out while he was giving me those evil eyes,” the shopkeep says, shuddering.

“I guess his manners still need work,” Not that men in his line of work really needed any.

“Alphas that smell that strong and don’t even try to put a lid on it are the worst,” he gripes, bagging your produce with nimble hands, before pausing and looking back up at you. He wrings his hands, contrite and sheepish. “—er, no offense.”

“He smells strong?” you tilt your head to the side.

“Well, yeah. He’s all over you,” the man blinks. Some of his bangs fall over his big, brown eyes. He swipes them behind his ear thoughtlessly. “You guys just get together? He’s probably trying to flaunt it. Stake his ‘claim’, y’know?” he says with a sympathetic roll of the eyes.

You don’t particularly care what he says about Blade. A man able to lift a three-thousand pound sword doesn’t need defending. It’s his misconceptions about your relationship that irks you, for some reason. You don’t care about the opinions of others (you try not to care about the opinions of others) but you can’t resist the sudden urge to correct him.

“We’re not together.”

“Oh,” he blinks at you. “Does he know that?”

“Ugh. Enough. It’s none of your business.” your lips twist, a sliver of teeth exposed in your displeasure.

The shopkeep nods and beams at you, all previous curiosity wiped clean off his face. “Heard loud and clear!”

He finishes ringing you up and sees you off with a “have a nice day~!”. Blade follows you to your next stop, a stall that sells fresh fruits.

The frustration builds within you slowly. It’s a candlewick of a thing, at first. Blade is following you around. Irritating, but you can cope with it. He would leave if he was asked. Maybe Kafka told him to stick around for a while. She’s gotten into a bad habit of pawning him off on you, like he’s a child that needs watching rather than one of the universe’s most efficient killing machines. That’s fine. You’re not keen to get on her bad side.

Blade is scenting you. He’s sticking to you tight as a cobweb and giving dirty looks to people you talk to. That, you cannot abide by. It takes you at least five minutes to simmer, from the crate of apples to the lefternmost all of the stall to the bundle of leeks close to its middle. You’re not really looking at anything. Lost in thought.

“I am not an omega for you to covet. I don’t need your protection,” you tell him, letting your gaze idly roam over the prices. They’re written on fancy little labels with red accents, each one neatly stickered just below the lip of each crate.

“I never said you did,” Blade replies after a moment of deliberating. You look over a crate of cantaloupe. Selecting a ripe one is a practiced art.

“You didn’t have to,” you pause, melon held in your hands as you give him a scathing look. “Control your pheromones. You’re not an animal.”

“No. Worse, I am a blade.” he sighs, suddenly sounding unusually surly. Your lips twitch in the barest beginnings of a frown.

“Not an excuse,” you helpfully remind him. A shadow is cast over his face, then, dark and brooding. The space between his brows wrinkles, an uncertainty you haven’t quite seen from him before. There’s so little need to deliberate in a life like his own, so what troubles him now? It nettles something in you, makes you feel in a way that you don’t care to name and don’t want to look into. You deliberate asking, but he makes the choice for you.

“I will leave you, now.” When you turn to look at him, he’s already walked away from your side, strides longer than usual. He dissolves into the crowd like a sunset shadow, naught left in his wake but the scent you know still clings to your clothes.

—

“My, my. You rarely ever visit at this hour,” Luocha says, giving you one of those mirthful smiles where his eyes scrunch, unabashedly delighted (and undeniably smug) to see you. He lounges on the ottoman, slender fingers parting the pages of a furniture catalogue. “To what do I owe the honor?”’ He’s already deduced that you want something from him. You take no excessive pride in your poker face but it still pains you to be so easily read. Luocha stands apart from the crowd with his soft hands and feigned delicacy, but he smells blood in the water just as easily as any other follower of the Hunt.

“I just wanted to talk,” you see no reason to dance around it.

“You came all this way for a conversation?” He rests his chin on the palm of his hand in a haughty way that pisses you off.

“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted this whole time?” you grouse, and he laughs.

“I’m flattered, regardless. Come, sit and tell me all that is on your mind.” he beckons to a seat at his side, which you stiffly sink into, unable to relax beneath his hunter’s gaze.

“You’re an omega—”

“Yes, quite,” his smile is now coquettish. You feel your face wrinkle in annoyance, line of your brows dipping low.

“I wasn’t done. You know more about secondary genders than I do—and I don’t have anyone else to talk about it with, so…”

“I appreciate you confiding in me like this,” Luocha says, sweet as honey, timbre smooth as silk. There’s an ease about him here, in his own domain, that soothes and disarms you despite your best efforts. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to ask, so unused to relying on anyone else. I’m no professional, but I will answer your questions as best as I am able.”

He steeples his fingers with a smile, way too delighted for you to feel good about his generosity. He just likes knowing something you don’t, doesn’t he?

“Well. I’ve been spending time with an alpha, lately. It’s a work thing, but he keeps hovering around. Even after I tell him he can leave.”

“Ah.” Luocha says. The corners of his smile grow taut with something you don’t quite recognize.

And it’s a question you suddenly have to wonder for yourself. Is Blade bothering you? You can count on one hand the amount of times you have been genuinely upset with him. He’s quiet, most of the time. He answers your questions and attempts to appease you whenever possible. He carries your bags whenever you happen to be at the markets, together. Even if you really wish he wouldn’t, you can tell he’s trying to be kind.

“He hardly speaks. And when I does, I don’t really mind. But he hovers and keeps grabbing my shopping bags whenever we’re at the markets. I don’t get it. Is it some sort of courting gesture?”

“He certainly sounds like a character,” Luocha muses, sounding far off for a moment. “You have the right idea. He’s carrying your things to both lessen your burden and to prove himself capable, even if he himself does not realize it.”

You grimace, face twisting up, The truth has an acerbic tang to it. Luocha laughs unabashedly at your dismay, the sound melodic and trilling. The longer you spend in his presence, the more convinced you become that the Aeons crafted him specifically to vex you. You give him a scathing look.

“Come, now,” Luocha wheedles. “My humblest apologies, Courier—it’s simply so rare for you to be so expressive. I was caught off guard. Shall I get you something to drink? Come, please, sit back down. Surely you have more to ask of me?”

Reluctantly, you drop into the armchair closest to the door, leaning back as far as you have the space for, You fold your fingers together, elbows perched on an arm rest each.

“I don’t envy you. It must be difficult to bear the attentions of such a peculiar alpha,” Luocha says.

“You know him, then.” You can’t keep the accusation from your voice, something frenetic and ugly kicking up your pulse, making your stomach go sour. How deeply do they know each other? Enough for Luocha to consider spilling your secrets? Enough for them to conspire against your purposes unknown?

No, don't be ridiculous. You're not important enough a figure to be the center of any such elaborate scheme. Weak, as far as emanators go. Painfully average, even as far as betas go. Unremarkable in status and career. All that threatens you is what you have long left behind.

“I do know him. Quite well, in fact.” Luocha muses, undisputed fondness in his voice. How close are they? The question lingers bitter on the tip of your tongue. It vibrates underneath your skin, wild and desperate and gods, you want to know so badly. “Though he may deny it, he can be shy. You’re alike, in that way.”

“I am not shy,” you bristle. It’s your curiosity alone that keeps you in his company.

“An argument best saved for another day. Let’s not get off track—Blade is an alpha, but he bears few of the typical mannerisms associated with his secondary gender, which makes this newfound attachment to you all the more significant.”

Progressively, throughout your conversation, you’ve been able to feel the wrinkles on your face multiplying and darkening.

“It makes sense, if you ask me. You’re quite the extraordinary individual,” Luocha says, drumming his fingers idly against the armrest.

“So how do I get him to stop?” you brush past his superfluous flattery with practiced indifference. He wants to fluster you, to see you squirm. It’s one of the ugly truths behind the chivalrous front he wears in polite company.

“Are you sure you want him to stop?” he inquires.

“What are you getting at?”

“If you truly wanted to no longer be the object of these behaviors, you would have no problem telling him yourself.”

You laugh, and it’s a cold and bitter thing. “Not all men take rejection well.”

“As I well know,” Luocha reminds you. He’s so haughty, so utterly confident that sometimes you forget he’s an omega, a demographic as subject to unwanted advances as any you are a part of. He stands up, empty glass cradled in hand. The sheer material of his robe billows around him like fine mist, treating you to the outline of his smooth, toned legs. Blade is more built, the thought comes to you unbidden. You squish it like the raspberries you juiced only a week ago on Luocha's kitchen counter. You wonder if the stains ever came out.

“Objectively speaking, you have more of a reason to hold your tongue around me than you do him. Yet, you hardly hesitate to make your displeasure known in my company,” he points out. “It’s not because of my secondary sex. You hardly ever remember that I’m an omega, unless my heat is soon.”

“And your point is?”

He seizes your chin, then tilts your head up until you’re forced to look into those grass green eyes. Cradled between his forefinger and thumb, you are left with nowhere else to go. You wonder briefly if it thrills him to do this because he is an omega. If he finds some kind of perverse pleasure in subverting the roles society espouses about his kind.

“You could have told him off on your own. Instead, you went out of your way to consult someone you deeply dislike, looking for another, less direct way of handling it. All of that implies some degree of care, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He’s right, and you hate nothing more than when he’s right.

“Thank you for your time,” you dip back into your customer service with a placid and empty drone, because you know how much he hates it. You say it to his chest, refusing to give him the eye contact. Unwilling to expend the effort. For plausible deniability, because you don’t know what you’ll find on his face. The air has grown balmy and cloying and fragrant. You stand up, and he steps backwards. “But I must be going, now.”

“How unfortunate,” Luocha coos as you awkwardly find your way around him, having been sandwiched between his body and the coffee table. “I was going to put the kettle on…”

—

The shroud of night has settled over the Luofu. A crescent moon winks down at you from the artificial sky, peering between the treetops. You’re laid on your back, on the concrete patio near the shed.

Footsteps head in your direction. You already know who it is. There’s no one else that has that blistering, writhing aura. Blade comes to stand over you. His brows wrinkle in displeasure. You don’t know why. It’s not his patio that you’ve gotten your blood all over.

“You’re injured,” he says, frowning. He crouches over you. A pale thumb smears the drying crimson on your upper lip. Your entire face scrunches up, gnarled like a gargoyle, recoiling from the unexpected touch.

“Nosebleed,” you mutter. The space behind your eyes throbs in protest, accompanied by a fierce pressure at the bridge of your nose. All typical symptoms. The gifts bestowed upon you as Emanator unfortunately do not shield you from your allergies. To think, an Emanator could still be laid low by something as mundane as allergies.

“Who gave it to you?” Blade looms a little closer, gaze steely.

“No one. Sometimes my allergies act up. That’s all.” you assure him, squinting irritably. You hope your judgmental flower will shame him out of your personal space, but he lingers.

“You should remain indoors, then.” he draws. He lifts his bloodied hand and looks at it, too contemplative for your liking.

“I take medication for it. Just forgot today,” it feels wrong to justify yourself. He isn't owed an answer, but this is a rare moment. Blade showing such outright concern over something so novel is interesting (a more sentimental person might call it touching). Has his immortality rendered him incapable of distinguishing a few pesky allergies from a deadly ammonia? You can’t imagine someone so riddled with regeneration to register the difference between a gaping gash and a papercut.

“Then remember to take them.” he advises coolly.

“I will.”

You lay there, then, in silence unperturbed for a few moments. The hard ground is cool against your back. It’ll fix your aching spine, you’re sure.

“Are you not going to get up?” Blade asks.

“No. It feels nice to be on the floor, sometimes.” you assure him quickly, lest he assume your nosebleed has robbed you of all mobility. He stares at you, blank-faced, but you somehow can tell he is skeptical. You pat the space next to you, a silent offering.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it. This rare creature, crackling with the energy of his divine “gift”. You don’t indulge in typical sentiments, and you spurn love and limerence for your own sanity, due to the madness you have seen both inspire. To adore is to give of yourself, to exhaust what limited energy you have left. Yet, there is no arguing the fact of his beauty. His hair pools like fresh slick pitch. Faint moonlight catches on the sable strands. His jaw cuts a sharp and handsome shape, eyelashes long and thick. He stares up at the sky, unreadable.

“Kafka has no need of me in the coming days.” “It is… strange. The Stellaron Hunters are few in number, so our hands are always full. To be bereft of any responsibility… is rare.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about that.”

“No. It will leave me restless. And the silence will only give the mara room to spread. It’s better—more manageable when there is a task at hand.” Blade admits, a shiver in his voice.

“I do. I believe you are familiar with the place,” he says. That catches your attention. And makes you just a little nervous.

“Do you even have anywhere to stay?” The Stellaron Hunters surely have a vessel of their own where he can lodge. You’re ultimately not too concerned. You shut your eyes and listen to the midnight breeze, feel the black of the night against your skin.

You turn to look at him, almost afraid to ask. “Familiar?”

“The merchant has opened his home to me. I will remain there for the duration of my… off time.”

Again, you are sorely tempted to question the exact nature and origin of their relationship, but it’s truly none of your business. You’ve long espoused a policy of isolation, but there’s no denying how thoroughly entangled you have become in them. Elbows deep. You’re not quite sure how it happened. They’re infiltrated your monotonous life, moved in so slowly that you didn’t even notice until this very moment.

“Well. He’s not there most of the time, so it’ll be like having your own place,” You can’t imagine Blade as a homeowner, for some reason. It just invokes the image of him mowing a lawn in khaki shorts with that same, placid face he always wears. He’s too ethereal and strange to trim the hedges or fix a leaky faucet. Sometimes, you think he’d look more in-place if he levitated instead of just walking everywhere.

“I had lemonade the other day,” he says, and this fascinates you, because it is so very rare for him to initiate conversation about something so little.

“...And? Did you like it?” Perhaps it’s petty, but you already have a feeling that he didn’t. You hate to presume, but you think you have similar palettes.

“...It was too sweet, and burdened by a lingering, chemical taste,” he confirms your vague conjecture and you very nearly laugh. Or make some sort of short, wry noise like a horse’s snort.

“Yeah. Ones that aren’t made from scratch tend to be like that.”

“And that is why you make your own.”

“Exactly,” you lift your gaze from him and return it to the sky. “When you make something from scratch, you can make however you like. Ones you buy pre-bottled have too much sugar.” He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing else.

The twinkling stars are no more authentic than the clouds which hover during the day. But you wonder how many far off stars he has visited across the span of his long un-life. How many civilizations he has seen toppled, how many lives have ended at his hands. What a terrifying beast Yaoshi has created. Yet, here he lay beneath a sky he has likely long tired of, humoring your purposeless requests for reasons unknown.

—

You’re tucked on the steps off the side door, head leaned back and eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of the artificial midday sun. Blade leans up against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You don’t blame him for staying in the shade, not when he’s always dressed so darkly.

You shouldn’t show your stomach to a known apex predator. Your instincts are tampered down, but you still curl your spine and lift your knees to your chest when you usually it on the stoop. You haven’t done it, today. Anxiety thrums in the space right behind your eyes. The scared animal inside of you writhes in his presence. You look at him, gaze by happenstance falling on the profile of his chest.

Breasts, you think stupidly, and laugh aloud. The noise is so sudden that you almost don’t realize it came from you. Blade looks down at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you're still too caught up in your own disbelief. Spending so much time with him has softened your skill, started to fry your remaining brain cells. He’s always been handsome. But you’ve started to too keenly note the bow curve of his lips, the narrowness of his waist.

And you hate, hate, hate proving Luocha right.

“What is it that you find so amusing?” Blade speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a scared dog or a lost child.

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes and tilt your head back, letting it thump against the top step. Blade inhales sharply. “Just remembered a stupid joke I heard a few days ago.” When you open your eyes, Blade has turned away, inspecting a row of gladiolus planted next to the nearby shed. The line of his shoulders has gone tense.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” you muse.

“Did you plant them?”

“No. I delivered the seeds. Only a week ago, I think. They wouldn’t have been able to sprout this fast.”

“Under normal circumstances, perhaps,” Blade skates a finger over a bright orange petal. “That merchant utilizes his gift so shamelessly. Even while at the heart of his natural born enemy.”

“And it’ll all be for nothing if that damn cat comes and eats them,” you grunt. You’ev stumbled upon torn up patches of grass and bitten through flower patches, stems snapped and petals crushed. You briefly, in one of your pettiest and cruelest moments, nearly suggested Luocha plant lilies next. The callousness of your own thought had startled you into silence, so gladiolus it was.

“Ah. About the cat,” Blade begins. You blink, wide-eyed. A cold pit forms in your stomach, because—

“You didn’t,” you gape.

“I did not kill it,” Blade says sourly, clearly affronted by the assumption. “I brought it to Kafka. They seem to get along.”

The tension melts out of you at once. Your petty grudge isn’t worth the blood of an innocent animal. You let yourself fall back against the stoop. The edges of the stairs dig into your spine.

“That makes sense,” you say, a touch wry.

Blade grimaces. “They send me images of the little beast every day I am not there. If Silver Wolf is to be believed, it ‘eats better’ than she does.”

Does Silver Wolf eat well to begin with? “That was kind of you,” you say instead.

“Was it? Or was it cruel to the man who will wonder where his pet has gone?” Blade inquires. He doesn’t sound particularly bothered by the possibility.

You scoff. “I doubt he’ll even notice.”

—

You are natant in the dull haze of half-sleep. The soft scent of camelias and fabric softener and linens. A cloying warmth cocoons you, keeps you mired in a state of partial sleep. Burrowed beneath the comfort exists a nagging feeling of wrongness, like a pebble in your boot. You cling to the sensation, let it pull you from the inky, peaceful depths. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to breach the surface. It feels like ages by the time you pry your weary eyes open.

There’s a body crushed into you. An unyielding, solid mass of muscle. The scent of something charred wreathes around you. Your cheek is pressed up against a heartbeat, steady and strong. It would be comforting if you knew where you were, or who you were with.

Alarm, molten hot, jots down your spine. Shaken from your stupor, you begin to writhe. Your palms slap against the chest of the man beneath you. You brace yourself against him in an effort to pry yourself free.

An arm around your midriff tightens, and the panic grows. You lash out, snarl, a hand reaching behind you to grab onto the assailant’s wrist.

The room blurs, then. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you’re reoriented and pinned with minimal effort. Your eyes blow wide, gaze caught by those candlewick eyes. Blade’s hair is mussed from both sleep and the struggle. His lips are pulled into a snarl. Your gut squirms at the flash of those deadly canines—sharper than you’d imagined (he’s never bared his teeth at you).

“Stop,” he commands, low and throaty. You shudder, foolish hindbrain moved to obey the order. This, you realize, is what an alpha’s command must sound like.

As you lay beneath him, chest to heaving chest, the pieces of the previous night return to you in fragments and shades.

Blade came to your door at dusk’s end. The shuttles had shut down for the night. You let him in, quickly, before anyone could witness a known fucking criminal at your door. You fed him dinner, anyways. Spoke late into the night—about what you cannot truly recall. Somewhere around three in the morning, you must have nodded off.

“Have you calmed down?” Blade asks.

“Yes,” you grumble, feeling thoroughly chastised despite his flat and empty tone. You attempt to dislodge yourself a second time, but Blade stops you fast. “Blade—” The beginning of a feeling you cannot quite name crawls up your spine, up the back of your skull. It’s a creeping, white hot sensation. A sudden deprivation of air. His eyes have closed. You feel your pulse spike. “Blade.” You try again. “Let me up.”

He draws a shaky breath.

“You don’t understand, do you?”

“What is there for me to understand?” you ask, voice a tepid little thing. He laughs. The sound is manic and bitter. When he opens his eyes, they’re hot enough to burn a hole in you.

“I… remember you,” he begins slowly. There’s a creeping breathiness there, you feel it under your palms, writhing inside of his ribcage. “When you are not there. I remember how warm your hands are, the smell of your sweat—the taste of when we are… together. And I crave it every moment we are apart. It’s—maddening.”

“What.” you’re taken back, all the sudden, to the sixth time Sunday called you to his office. A servant of the Harmony, you were, still protected by your naivete, still convinced by the smiling faces and open arms which surrounded you. A child. A seed, among the older and wiser trees in Xipe’s forests.

You remember the exact shape of his lips when he said it—you remember how it felt. You feel the same way now, pinned like a little butterfly. Lost in the reeds.

“I remember you,” Blade continues, slower and calmer, now. Burning wood to dead charcoal. “When we are apart, you are all I remember, and the emptiness that exists in your shape is too much to bear. I need—” he licks his lips, his empty pupils blown so very wide.

“The mara becomes quiet, when we are together,” he whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. His eyes close. His forehead is a wide rash of heat, pressed against yours. He takes a single, shuddering inhale, breathing your air.

And you—you’re still frozen there, caught up in the vice of his body and the couch. You stare emptily beyond him. His face settles into the crook of your neck.

The lamplight flickers on and off.

#oz write #hungering for hsr #blade/reader #hsr/reader

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wolfvmin · 1 year

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House of Cards

pairing: chishiya shuntarou x fem!reader genre: angst (i love angst i'm sawry), unrequited love (but is it really), pining wc: 6.1k warnings: niragi, spontaneously written at 2am and under the influence, chishiya is emotionally constipated, is chishiya ooc here idk summary: in which you've known chishiya before borderlands and he isn't so fond of seeing you at the beach ao3 link > PART 2

The first person you saw after the first game at the Beach was Usagi. You ran to her as soon as you saw her by the pool.

“Have you seen Arisu?” She asks you as soon as you let go. You shake your head in worry, your head immediately looking around and searching the crowd for the familiar shaggy mop of hair.

“There!” She exclaims and you both push through the crowd to get to him. He sees both of you approaching and screams your names in delight.

“Arisu!” You grin as you approach him. You immediately wrap your arms around him. He pats your back.

“You’re both alive.” He lets out a sigh of relief. You nod and let him go.

He and Usagi stare at each other with shy smiles, making you roll your eyes. You stood in between them awkwardly.

“Please just hug it out. I’m practically begging at this point. I wish the game just killed me if I knew I will have to see this shit.” You cross your arms and walk away from both of them while both of them follow you, no doubt still shyly smiling at each other while talking.

You sat on one of the pool chairs and Usagi sat on the edge of your seat. Arisu sat on the other chair beside yours.

“Ann was trying to test me,” Arisu says as he sat down on the edge of the beach chair, talking about the game he was in.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Usagi replies while you nod in agreement.

A girl in a blue patterned two-piece swimsuit enters your space and sits beside Arisu. She was tall, pale, and pretty and with some kind of stick in her mouth. The three of you follow her with your gazes.

“Your girlfriend?” She asks and nods at Usagi. She was talking to Arisu.

“What?” Arisu reacts, clearly caught off-guard.

You roll your eyes again but watch the exchange with a grin.

“You’re wrong,” Usagi denies.

“You clearly like each other. Why not date?” Kuina shrugs and then continues. “You’re never gonna know when you’re going to die.”

Whatever Arisu, Usagi, and the new girl were talking about, you tune it all out with your thoughts.

It was harsh but true. People always say, if the world was ending, they’d live to the fullest. In Borderlands, every day is your last day. You think back to Chishiya. If he was here, how would he treat you? Pain struck your chest at the thought.

Will he ever look at you the way Arisu looks at Usagi? All this time, you’ve been hanging on to your life hoping you’ll return to him. But is it worth it? Will he even like it when you come back?

“What about you?”

The girl looks at you with expectant eyes.

“What was that? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You got someone to go back to the original world? I’m Kuina, by the way.” She gives you a sweet smile.

You nod, thinking of the nonchalant platinum blonde. “Yeah. I think so.”

She was about to ask more when a loud voice halts the entire celebration.

“Hey, stop playing that tacky music!”

Armed men enter the area. You recognize some of them as the men who tied you up when the three of you were caught spying on The Beach. Everyone stops partying upon their arrival, you even see some holding their breath.

“It’s the militants,” Kuina explains to the three of us. “If you want to live a peaceful life at the Beach, avoid getting involved with them.”

She begins to explain who the militants are and what they do. The muscular man named Aguni is their leader. They’re who are in power on the Beach along with Hatter and his devotees. A conflict could happen between the two groups at any time. You don’t doubt it. Such two different powers will clash inevitably.

Aguni and his militants stop by the four of you. He was looking at Arisu who avoided his gaze.

“What happened to your friend?” The question was for Arisu again. You raise a brow. You’re beginning to notice a lot of people knowing Arisu. He must’ve been in a game with the man back when he was with his friends.

Arisu stayed silent, a glimpse of his defeated self, lying on the ground passing by you.

“I see. He died.” Aguni states the obvious. “What a shame only the small fish survived.”

You frown at the clear insult to your friend.

“Do you know each other?” Kuina whispered to Arisu.

Aguni then flits his dark gaze to Usagi and then to you. You suddenly felt naked in your black two-piece swimsuit. But it’s not like you to cower. So you look back at him with the same dark but angry gaze.

“You,” he points at the arrogant-looking man with the gun over his shoulder. “Bring those women over.”

The man quickly moves to his feet, about to grab Usagi first. Arisu stands up in a heartbeat, shouting his protest.

“Stop it. Don’t get involved!” Kuina holds his arm as he stands up.

Usagi stays planted in her seat and you stand up, fists in anger and on your sides.

“Our boss said he wants a taste of both of you.” He says with an ugly smirk on his face. With you being closer, you could see the multiple piercings on his face. You feel nothing but disgust for this man.

The man grabs Usagi’s arm again and both Arisu and you stop him.

“Stop it,” Arisu repeats, standing in front of you and Usagi.

“What? Had to have two chicks to yourself? Don’t you know sharing is caring?” He asks Arisu and then asks Aguni. “What should we do about this guy?”

“Break his legs so that he’ll die in the next game.”

Your eyes widen at the words of the militants’ leader. You quickly felt fear for your friends. God, is this really gonna happen to the three of you?

The pierced man orders the militants to bring the both of you to Aguni while he grabs Arisu.

The tattooed man with a sword approaches you and grabs you by the arm.

“Fucking let me go.” You struggle against his hold, tugging your arm from his digging grasp.

Arisu escapes the pierced man’s hold and is about to head back to the both of you when the militants block his way. He can’t do anything. You can’t do anything. You were outnumbered and no one will save you.

You stare down the bald tattooed man, not letting him see your fear.

You look around, desperate for an opening or an idea to save the three of you. The people only look at the situation closely.

There was only one name in your mind. Chishiya. You have to get out of here for Chishiya. You have to make it out alive somehow.

“Is this a fight?”

The crowd made a way and came in the Beach’s number one, Hatter.

“Back off Hatter, this doesn’t concern you,” Aguni spoke up.

“I can’t do that. As Number One, I’m obliged to maintain order at the Beach.” He says dramatically, looking afar. Then he looks at the militants once again. “Can you let off the newcomers in my account, Aguni?”

All of the residents of the Beach watch as the tension between the two leaders rises. It was Hatter who first breaks the stare down and looks at the pierced man.

“Niragi?” He directs the question to him. So his name is Niragi, you thought. It’s best to avoid him. He reeks of danger and you are seldom wrong about your intuition.

Niragi looks away. “I only take orders from my boss.”

Hatter clearly takes offense at the man’s answer and looks at Aguni again with dark eyes. “Then let me ask your boss.”

He stares down at Aguni again, faces inches away from each other. “Who’s your boss, Aguni?”

Aguni doesn’t look at Hatter, staring ahead in anger. Then he turns to face Hatter. Everyone waits for the tough-looking man’s answer.

“It’s you, right?”

Hatter seemed pleased with his answer and whispered something to him. Aguni then makes his way out of the scene. You successfully tug your arm out of the militant’s grasp, glaring at him and moving away.

“All executive members are to gather in the meeting room!” Hatter announces to everyone.

The militants rush out of the scene and Hatter watches as they walk away.

“Arisu, you’re coming too.” He orders without looking at him, still eyeing the gunned men who have their backs turned to him. “I heard your potential from Ann. Follow me.”

Arisu looks at Usagi and then at you. You nod at him, assuring silently that the two of you will be okay.

“I’ll be back,” Arisu promises to Usagi who was still sitting down.

Your male friend follows Hatter and Usagi trails behind him in worry but stops after a few steps. You follow her and place a hand on her shoulder, staring at the back of your friend who was to be in a meeting with the executives.

“Usagi. He’ll be fine.” You tell her in comfort, mostly telling it to yourself too.

You turn back at Kuina, about to ask her if she knows where they’re going.

But what you saw froze you in your place, dropping your hand from Usagi’s shoulder.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. That white jacket. That platinum blonde. Those cat-like eyes. Your eyes must be deceiving you. It can’t be.

“Shuntarou.” You sang as you entered the Doctors’ lounge room.

He was alone and it was so quiet you can hear a pin drop so you don’t miss how he audibly sighs. You giggle, well aware of the fact that you annoy the shit out of him. You sit across from him. He was reading some patient information with three books stacked on the coffee table in front of him.

As usual, he doesn’t even express his negative welcome with words.

“I bought you something,” you wave the paper bag in front of his face in excitement.

It didn’t surprise him. You always do this. Whenever you were out shopping, you had to buy him one thing. It was an unspoken rule you set for yourself. And it could be anything—no price range, no rules. One time, you bought him a plant. It died in three weeks. So, you set another rule for yourself, only inanimate objects as gifts.

You set the paper bag down and take out the box inside it. You know he won’t bother opening it in front of you so you open it yourself.

As you take off the lid, you excitedly say, “Tada!”

His eyes flit to the content of the box for a second and then to you before going back to his patient’s papers. He never says thank you for any of your gifts but you don’t really mind. He didn’t ask for them anyway. But you know when he likes the gifts. It’s how you know more about him. He’ll never tell you what he likes or dislikes so it was up to you to figure it out.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Can you wear this when we go on our date?” You press him as you take out the white jacket from the box.

It wasn’t a date. But he doesn’t deny it so that was enough for you.

Before he answers (but you doubt he would), the door of the lounge opens and walks in Nakamura Hina. She was your senior in med school and a great doctor. She’s also one of Chishiya’s co-workers.

She’s nice and she never showed you anything bad but you sense that she doesn’t like you. You didn’t mind. There was a pretty long line and you don’t plan on opening the doors to any of them.

“Y/N, you’re here,” she states the obvious and gives you a tight strained smile. Her eyes flit over to Chishiya.

“Chishiya, Mr. Yamamoto wants you in his office to talk about the patient.”

Without saying a word, he was already on his feet, not even sparing you a glance and following Nakamura out the door. You stand up too.

“I’ll head out too! Remember what I said, okay?”

He doesn’t even acknowledge you and kept on walking. Hina was looking at you with pity in her eyes. You’ve grown accustomed to it. That was your reputation anyway–the rich girl always hanging around Chishiya Shuntarou.

When they were out of the door, you slump back down your seat and groan.

Before leaving, you fixed your gift back in the paper bag and set it down next to his things.

You hope he’ll wear it, at least.

It’s Chishiya. Your Chishiya was beside Kuina.

He was staring ahead of you so you purposefully blocked his sight, forcing yourself to be in his sight. It was so you to force your way into his life.

If he looks at you, then it’s real. He’s real.

His gaze drops on your face but as soon as his eyes meet yours, Usagi speaks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

This made you look at her. “It’s—,” you look back at him but find yourself gazing at a crowd with no Chishiya or Kuina in sight.

He’s here in Borderlands.

Scared to be alone in such a dangerous place, Usagi and you slept in her room. You lie on your backs and side by side on her bed. Inches away from each other, you could practically feel Usagi’s anxiety reeking off and unto you.

“Do you think Arisu’s fine right now?” Usagi finally thinks out loud.

You sigh. “He can handle himself.” You pause and think about the man you considered your friend. “He’s smart, isn’t he?”

You feel her genuinely smile beside you. “It’s definitely one of his strengths.”

“So you like smart guys too?” You tease her. “I get it,” you add, thinking about a certain genius doctor you know.

“Too? What does that mean? Your type is smart guys?” She gets excited and faces you on her side, leaning her chin on her palm and putting her upper weight on her elbow.

You purse your lips. “I’m not telling you.”

She shakes you and whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

You grin and lean on your elbow too, now facing each other like two teenage girls in a sleepover. Doing this felt like ages ago. You used to gush over Chishiya to your girlfriends who clearly felt annoyed and tired of it. But right now, Usagi was waiting and is so excited for you to tell her all about the guy you liked. It reminded you of how life used to be so simple. Now, romance was a luxury no one can afford in Borderlands.

“He’s a doctor.” You start. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our parents were coworkers and friends.”

“I was in med school too. We were both there together. It’s kind of an unspoken thing that we’re arranged to be married. I hated studying medicine. So I didn’t really pursue it after college.” You pause, thinking about much easier times. “Chishiya, though, he’s good at everything. He’s smart and he’s so cool. He isn’t like anyone I've ever met.”

“So it’s him? The person you’re going back to after Borderlands?” Usagi asks, sweetly and in awe.

You gave her a sad smile. “That was the plan.”

Her brow furrowed and formed into a frown. “What do you mean?”

You lie back down, looking up at the ceiling with tears in your eyes. It’s a good thing the lights were off. “I saw him tonight. He’s here.”

“He’s here?” She doesn’t hide the shock in her tone and you nod. “Why didn’t you go to him?”

“It’s weird.” You admit. “I’m kinda scared.”

It’s true. You were scared. At first, you were shocked but then you were scared. Chishiya were in the same deadly games you’ve been in. Needless to say, they were traumatic and insane. You don’t doubt that he won all those games but still, you were scared. One wrong move is all it takes sometimes. He could die any day here in Borderlands instead of him waiting for you in the real Tokyo. And would he care about you here? Without the threat of your parents knowing their daughter’s every move?

“You’re scared of your boyfriend?” She huffs, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s the thing. He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer with a sad voice. “I was just this girl who chased him around. I didn’t mean a thing to him. I’m scared that he won’t care about me here.”

Usagi places a hand on top of mine.

“I’m sure he will. You’re hard not to care about, Y/N.”

You slept that night with a heavy heart. You’ve come a long way in the games. You sacrificed, killed, and bled just so you can come back to a life that was not even worth living for a man that was fighting for his life in the games as well.

It scares you a lot because as much as you do not care about what happens to you, you know that you’ll die for him. You realize that your feelings for him run that deep. You love him that much.

That very night, you realize that your goal in Borderland has changed.

It wasn’t to go back to Chishiya. It was to make sure that he gets out of here alive. Even if meant your damnation, you’ll gladly take it.

The next morning, Arisu, Usagi, and you went around the Beach to gather information. There wasn’t much. You learned that there weren't any games beyond Tokyo and it wasn’t accessible at all. Whoever leaves Tokyo or the country, a laser shoots them from the sky.

The three of you assume that the only real way to get out of here was to play the games.

“I’ll go to the annex basement,” Usagi says as the three of you walk outside the building. “I’ll go get some food supplies and any weapons that we can use.”

“I’ll go with you,” you tell her. She nods at me. “I’m going to look for someone I know.”

You spun and nodded at Arisu. “I’ll look for some more information if I can, in case we need it.”

The two of you separated from Arisu and did what you told him you will. You didn’t find Chishiya. You didn’t think it wise to ask the residents of the Beach about his whereabouts because it wouldn’t be wise for them to know about your association with him. None of these people can be trusted.

When the three of you met up once again, Usagi began to tell Arisu that the Beach had gathered quite a large number of firearms and it was guarded.

“As long as they have those firearms, Hatter is dangerous,” Usagi worried.

You nod. “The militants too. They overpower us.”

Arisu stops walking, thinking deeply. Usagi asks him what’s wrong but he walks again and looks out the window.

Out there, the residents of the Beach we’re partying like there’s no tomorrow.

“The Beach,” Arisu starts. “A utopia built upon charisma. However, maybe that’s just our imagination. A utopia doesn’t exist in this world.”

Usagi and you look at each other, confused at your friend’s mumbling.

“Usagi. Y/N. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

He stares at the two of you deeply in the eye, waiting for your answer intently.

You let out a loud huff. “Why? What’s got you serious all of a sudden?”

You were mad. You found Chishiya on the rooftop with Kuina. How dare him tell Arisu to specifically leave you out of his plan?

“Y/N?” The tall woman was the first one to see you approaching with heavy breaths and clenched fists.

“Why would you tell Arisu to leave me out of the plan? What if something happens to the four of you? What am I supposed to do?” You protest in anger.

“Kuina.”

He only says her name but Kuina understands him. She gives him a nod and taps you on your shoulder before heading inside and out of the rooftop.

“I want to help. I want to leave here too,” you plead with him and take his hand. He pulls it away from your grasp and your heart doesn’t miss to ache because of that action.

“What is so valuable about your life outside Borderlands, anyway?”

“What?”

“You spend all day swiping Daddy’s credit card and drinking with your fake plastic friends. And when you’re bored of them, you come to the hospital to annoy me.”

“Why are you saying this?” Tears well up in your eyes. It’s not that he was lying. All he said was true. You know that you do, in fact, annoy him. You don’t forget the evident irritation on his face whenever he sees you approaching before Borderlands.

You couldn’t help it. Even if the life you had before was dull, there was something about him that pulled you in. You know that he never liked you despite the association of your parents to his. But to hear it tonight, right when you’ve only asked him if you could be a part of his plans—that you want to help him leave The Beach and out of Borderlands.

“Just go back to your room, Y/L/N.”

Stupid. Worthless. Annoying. That’s what he thinks you are. You’re too stupid to be in his oh-so-great plans to leave The Beach. You’re worthless in his and your own life. Most of it all, you were nothing but a nuisance to him. He doesn’t even think of you as a friend. He just thinks of you as someone whom his parents thrusted to.

You agree it’d be better if you weren’t sent to this world with him. But you were.

“I’m serious. You’ll mess up my plan,’ he even adds.

“Why would I do that? What about the games I played? Do you not think I’ve won them with my hard work?”

He makes a tsk sound, staring ahead. It was chillier on the rooftop than expected and your long-sleeved shirt wasn’t enough to shield you from the cold. But you endure it for him and for this argument.

“No. You’ve won games on your own.”

“Then why?” You plead. “Why do you think I’m incapable?”

“I don’t think you’re incapable.”

“Probably not. But you think I’m nothing but a burden to you.”

“You are.” Typical. Unfiltered and cruel truth comes out of his mouth.

“Then you should just let me die in the games I will be in. That way, you’re free of me forever. You’d be able to come back to our life, Chishiya. I know it. I just want to help you. Because I—, even if I’m not your friend, you are mine.” You rarely call him by his last name. The only other times were when it was necessary so you don’t doubt that he felt the coldness in your voice when you uttered his name.

‘Because I love you’, you almost let out.

You don’t wait for his answer and turn around, leaving him alone on the rooftop with his uncaring face and his hand inside the pocket of his white jacket.

While his other hand, the one you held in yours, twitches against the cold breeze of the night.

As Shuntaro’s childhood friend, his unfiltered words were nothing but old news to you. Every time he’d push you away and tell you mean things in disguise of cold harsh truth, you won’t deny that you feel a pang of pain in your heart for a millisecond. But, as aforementioned, with the years you’ve known the nonchalant cat-man, you’ve learned to tug that feeling away as soon as possible.

Right now though, you find yourself exhausted dealing with him.

Now, your feet have carried you to Arisu’s doorstep instead of yours. Despite knowing Chishiya before Borderlands, you weren’t brought here with him. You had your first games alone. That’s when you found Usagi and then eventually, a distraught and defeated Arisu lying on the street.

You spent most of your time in Borderlands with him and Asugi. The three of you joined The Beach together. Who would’ve thought you’d find your long-time crush and friend here as one of the executives?

But before knowing he was here, all your thoughts consisted of the guilt of survival. After all the games you were in, why have you survived? You didn’t deserve it. You don’t consider yourself a good person. You were high on privilege and you basked in it. Your life was pointless with no real hardship.

You’ve confided in Arisu when these thoughts occur. It wasn’t because he was good at comforting you. It was because he understood. He told you he lived a similar life before Borderlands. You picked each other up when he lost Karube and Chotta.

You knocked on his door while hugging yourself in one arm. Your head was all scrambled and there was an aching pain in your heart because of Chishiya.

“Y/N?”

Arisu opens the door to you with tears streaming down your face. His hair was shaggier than usual and he could barely open his eyes. You felt a bit guilty for waking him up so late at night.

“What happened?”

And then you spilled everything to him—the talk with Chishiya and the way you felt about the blonde. You told him how you felt cast aside on the plan to steal the cards.

In the dark of Arisu’s room and on his bed, you tore open your heart in front of him. Your friend sat quietly on the side, listening while rubbing your back in comfort.

It’s ironic how Arisu felt more like a friend than someone you knew for more than a decade. To Chishiya, you were nothing but a burden. Just someone who his parents wanted him to be associated with. His father is a great doctor and a good friend of your father, the owner of multiple hospitals all over Japan.

And you, you were studying medicine as well but you never particularly felt attached to it. It felt like something you had to do. You were supposed to inherit all of it anyway.

You don’t consider yourself intelligent but you had good grades up to high school. It was during college that you started to drift away.

Little do you know, your parents didn’t think you were capable of handling all your businesses from the start. That’s why they chose Chishiya. He was put in the same classes as you from high school up to med school. It was never spoken of but both of you know—Chishiya was being put beside you to marry you and have him take over the company. Chishiya Shuntaro, the genius child.

It was what your parents wanted. It was what his parents wanted. It was what you learned to want. It was what he never wanted.

No, he did want your father’s position. He was always drawn to power and control. And he will get it. But you were the weight that had to come with it. It hurts but it’s the truth.

You clung to him for a long while. But a person can only take so much. Maybe he finally had enough. Without your parents in Borderland, he was free of your childish antics. If you die out here, you know that your parents will still take him in. In fact, maybe they’d be glad that they’ve gotten rid of you. It was nothing but a formality after all—just to say that the next owner is still of your father’s blood.

Despite all that, you love him. You love all of him. You love him even if he looks bored to death when he’s with you. You love him even if he straight up refuses to teach you the lessons you have a hard time on, only to give you his notes right after and even quiz you on them. You love him so much that you accepted being treated like you were worthless and nothing but a pretty display of a daughter by your father so you can have him. If Chishiya wanted to be selfish, then so can you. If he has your position as chairman, then you’ll have him. It’s only fair. He can be happy with his power and miserable with you and you can be happy with him and miserable with your life.

Chishiya is a complicated person. You know that deep inside, he has learned to care for you. Even for a little bit. Well, that’s what you try to believe.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” You say to Arisu when you are done venting.

Arisu smiles and sighs.

“Our plan, Y/N. It’s dangerous and I understand him.”

You sniffed and paused. “You think I’m incapable too?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head violently. “No. No. That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled at his troubled facial expressions.

“I meant that if I cared about someone, I wouldn’t want them in danger.” He explains himself.

You went quiet after those words. Was it possible? Was it possible that Chishiya was ignoring and pushing you away in Borderlands because he… cared?

You don’t want to hope… but god do you want to.

“He hasn’t seen you in those games. You are more than capable, Y/N. I know it. But I know that if I had the option, I won’t risk putting my friend in danger.”

You nod, taking in his words with understanding. You want to believe that Arisu was right. You want to trust Chishiya. But could you? Do you really know the man behind the rose-colored glasses you wear when you see him?

“Okay,” you sigh.

That night, you stayed with Arisu in his room after arguing with Arisu to let you sleep on the couch instead of his bed. You only didn’t want to risk seeing Chishiya if you went back to yours, especially when his room was a couple of doors down from yours. And you were too tired that you just wanted to crash.

As you stare at the ceiling of the room and feel the digging of your shoulder blades and hips on the couch, you think about the person you and Chishiya were before Borderlands. It hasn’t been long but you’ve already found yourself comfortable with sleeping anywhere, not bathing for days, and hardly eating anything at all. You hadn’t faced any of these hardships.

Arisu was already awake when knocking on his door woke you up from your slumber on his couch. You stirred yourself awake and stood up from the couch.

“Kuina,” you hear him say as he opens the door.

You rise to your feet and head to the door. Kuina’s stare lingers at your recently woken-up form but waves at you and greets you anyway. You wave back.

Kuina whispers something to Arisu and he nods then looks back at you. “Y/N. You can follow Kuina after you’ve fixed yourself, okay?”

You hate this. You felt like a child being taken care of.

Kuina guides you outside the building after being holed up inside your room for the day. It seemed like the plan was a success and you were just waiting for the others.

You tap your foot repeatedly to aid your nerves. Kuina stood beside you quietly, chewing on her stick.

“It’s really hard not to have a smoke right now,” she sighs and talks to no one in particular.

“What’s taking them so long?” you couldn’t help but ask.

As if on cue, Chishiya walks out of the building with his hands in his pockets. You frown when there was no one who followed him next, no sign of the shaggy-haired boy and the athletic girl you’ve grown to love.

“I guess it’s time to say goodbye to this too.” Chishiya removes the band from his wrist indicating his ranking among the executives.

You follow him with your gaze but look behind him from time to time.

“Where’s Arisu? Usagi?” You ask him, worry evident in your tone.

Chishiya stares at you, looking at you with those unfeeling and unemotional eyes. You stare back at them, trying to decipher what he means. And then it hits you.

“No,” you breathe out.

You look at the girl beside you who hung her head low, not being able to look at you.

“Kuina?” Your voice weakened.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Anger filled your senses and for the very first time ever, you felt hatred for the man in front of you.

“You sacrificed them?!”

He looks away. “It was the only way.”

“They’re my friends,” you complain with a heavy heart. “Arisu is my friend.”

“I feel really bad for them, Chishiya,” Kuina adds.

His gaze flits back to you. “Oh, is that why you ran to your friend’s room for the night after our argument?”

How did he know that? But why does he care?

“Yes. Because unlike you, he gives a shit about me.” You answer with spite. “How could you do this to him? To me? Is this why you didn’t include me in the plans? Because you know I’ll stop you?”

Chishiya doesn’t answer for a while. Silence fills the void between the two of you. Kuina stays silent by your side, watching the scene unfold with her eyes.

“Then go.”

His words held no emotion as he stared at you deadly.

“I betrayed them so we can go out. The three of us. But if you want to go, then go. Help them. I don’t care.”

You look at him and then back to the building. Arisu and Usagi were probably being held by the militants right now. You’ll be outnumbered and caught. But what were you going to do? Go with Chishiya and leave them to die? You thought about the awful things they would’ve done to the three of you if it wasn’t for Hatter stopping them and you felt sick to your stomach. This was not the game. You aren’t supposed to kill and betray unless you were forced to in a game.

Arisu and Usagi are your friends. Chishiya is your friend. You’ve never had real friends before, at least no one really felt like they were. Arisu and Usagi were the first people who made you feel like they were happy to be your friend.

You can’t leave your friends.

“You have the cards, right?” You ask him.

He smirks. “Of course, I do.”

He says it with confidence like he has the ticket to the way out of Borderlands. With this, he was so sure that you’d have to come out with him. So you can go out. That was what he believed you wanted—that you wanted to go back to your life before.

But he was wrong.

“Then you’ll be fine.”

His eyes widened for a second before they turned to something different. They weren’t as dark or lifeless as they usually are. Instead, you could almost see a hint of surprise and maybe even hurt spread across his eyes.

You jump to him and wrap your arms around the man. How many times have you hugged him? You could probably count it with your hands. So you take it in, close your eyes, and try to engrave the feeling in your brain.

“Take care of my parents and the hospitals, yeah?” You whisper in his ear and hold on for five more seconds before completely letting him go.

“Kuina, look out for him, please?” You ask the tall girl but don’t wait for her answer.

Chishiya still stares at you, unspeaking. You look at him one more time and give him a sad smile with tears in your eyes before turning around. You’re afraid that if you look back again, you’ll run to his arms once more and cry about how much you love him.

He doesn’t care if you do. It’s better for you to leave him.

He has the cards now which means he’ll be fine. He can get out of here. If there was someone who can, it was him.

He has no purpose for you anymore and you’ll only be a burden.

With that, you run back inside the building.

#chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya imagine #chishiya x you #chishiya angst

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melrosing · 3 days

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a while back you mentioned bran being a fisher king type of figure if he becomes king. i am so intrigued by that concept. can you tell us more?

so full disclosure, I don't have a great deal of familiarity with Arthurian legend or British/Welsh mythology, which is what the Fisher King really draws upon, so I don't think I can say anything of real substance on this subject! i keep meaning to just sit down and swot up on this stuff but it's. not really something you can do in one sitting lol

HOWEVER i think even to a wiki peruser it's patently clear that GRRM is drawing on the Fisher King concept with Bran (as in, once you know he's doing that, you realise he isn't even trying to hide it). and I do tend to think that GRRM is more likely to stick with the top line of a myth or historical event he means to parallel rather than get lost in the minutiae - e.g. Matilda v Stephen succession crisis inspiring Rhaenyra v Aegon, the Black Dinner of 1440 inspiring the Red Wedding, this is GRRM taking the substance of an event but not the details of how it came to pass.

I'm going to guess that rather than getting into the finer details of the Fisher King mythos, GRRM is going to utilise it much like he's used Shakespeare's Richard III for Tyrion, which is another inspiration that seems painfully obvious from the moment you spot it, but is hardly lifted beat for beat, and I seriously doubt that Tyrion's story ends up anywhere like the end of RIII. but you can see GRRM taking the bits and pieces of RIII he finds interesting and twisting them for Tyrion in ASOIAF.

so with that in mind, I'm just going to quickly list the key points I can personally gather from the Fisher King myth that seem to gesture to Bran, and why I think these are probs interesting to GRRM as a writer (but as I say there are people who know lots about arthurian legend and british/welsh mythology who would probs have a lot more to say here):

the Fisher King is usually depicted as being wounded in the groin/legs/thigh - this is considered synonymous with his inability to have children and so propagate his line. immediately obvious parallel to Bran, and I think through both ASOIAF and F&B, GRRM is trying to show that ruling through dynasties where everything hinges on how the next guy's son turns out, is not a viable way to run a country. Bran will not be succeeded by children of his own blood, but I think much in the way that he himself has succeeded Bloodraven

the Fisher King is one with his land as such: his welfare is the welfare of the land, and when he takes a wound (and becomes infertile), the land too becomes barren. the Fisher King awaits a hero who will heal and restore him and so the land (but I can only imagine GRRM would subvert this - it's clear through GRRM's writing of disability that he doesn't see value in just 'curing' his characters. he wants to actually write them as disabled people). and I think there's a lot in Bran's story about man learning to respect the land he lives upon - the children and the first men's peace pact was agreed upon the grounds that the first men would essentially preserve Westeros and its weirwoods etc, and so I think it's generally agreed ASOIAF could end with a similar kind of pact to end the Long Night (or after the end of TLN)? so again, think this point is about Bran representing a renewed relationship between the lands of Westeros and its peoples - the welfare of all is tied together through him

the Fisher King is guarding the Holy Grail. im way out of my depth on this point, someone with more knowledge re. the Holy Grail needs to weigh in here lol, but I would guessssss that maybe this has something to do with Bran ending the story on the Isle of Faces, protecting the peace from there or SOMETHING idk

then the most obvious point: the Fisher King as he appears in Arthurian legend is thought to draw on the figure of Brân the Blessed, a character of Welsh mythology - which immediately recalls Bran the Broken (something Bran literally calls himself several times). the name 'Bran' also translates to crow or raven in Welsh, so, duh. and Brân the Blessed's story ends with his requesting that his head be buried on the White Hill of London - and as long as it remained there, Britain would be safe from invasion. more about Bran being tied directly to the welfare of the land and its peoples

(again there's doubtless a lot more that could be added here by someone who understands the Fisher King myth better than I do, but these seemed like the most obvious points that anyone could draw on)

anyway I absolutely take it as a given that Bran will be King at this point, and whilst it's really hard to imagine what that looks like, I do think it resonates. GRRM likes writing about dynasties but I don't think he believes in them. I'm sure he feels much the same way about feudalism, but I doubt that will be gone by the end of ASOIAF, too, so this is how I picture it??

KL: destroyed. red keep: fucked. some level of politics may continue here post-series, but I think it will no longer be the heart of westeros. the fact that it is in AGOT is I think GRRM trying to show the corruption at the heart of this country - KL is constantly described as a cesspit where the rich play their games and live and eat luxuriously directly atop the shoulders of the poor and downtrodden, divorced from what's happening in the rest of the 7K.

the new heart of Westeros will be the Isle of Faces. this is where I think Bran will end up. we don't know much about it, bc noone is able to sail there, but this was where the pact between the COF and the First Men was created, and it's one of the last places in the south where weirwoods still grow (here, in abundance). and apparently there was once a Green King of the Gods Eye?? if the Green King, of the Rivermen, is in any way the role Bran will soon be occupying, maybe this is where his Tully heritage is somehow relevant. and also like 'god's eye', Bran's whole thing is about learning to see all, so. likely place for him to be. ultimately, I don't think Bran will remain in Winterfell; the story is supposed to be about unity I think, and not northern exceptionalism, so a remaining Stark sibling will take up that seat and as I said before, I tend to think that will be Sansa.

and I guess the most I can imagine beyond this point is Bran living alongside the COF (perhaps in the company of Meera idk?), functioning less as a political entity and more as a figurehead, perhaps an oracle, who lives for the welfare of his people. there will still be politicians to run the country, but they will be guided by Bran in some way, and like Bloodraven, Bran will choose his own successor. what the intricacies of any of this look like i have no idea, but this really does sound to me like the start of GRRM's answer to all his concerns re. dynasties and corruption etc etc

sorry this was all garbled as hell but this is basically what the Fisher King endgame means to me for now. in short, not a whole lot that I can make sense of but I like the feel of it, I think it's consistent with the themes of the text and suggests the start of real change at the end of the story, rather than the start of yet another dynasty.

#ask #bran stark #i would link a better essay here but i've lost track of the one i remember reading.... it was on some old asoiaf forum #and was written before the show too so well done to that person lol #anyway yeah my lit studies were very definitely modern and early modern lit i do not know much about this stuff at all #so where ive got shit wrong or missed something glaring. CALL ME OUT #im p sure jon factors in somewhere here but like i know how #asoiaf

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starrywooyo · 6 months

Text

HIS - JWY one-shot

synopsis: you save a fox but what happens when he turns out to be more than just a fox?

pairing: fox!hybird wooyoung x f! reader

genre: hybird au - fluff/smut/angst (im so sorry)

!!warnings!! hunting, hunting terminology. non-con (consent is key!!) wooyo saves the day, time skips, smut, dom wooyoung, sub reader, blood, guns, death (im so sorry)

notes: very slow but I promise its worth it!!

word count: 5.7K (omg its long but I promise its well worth it)

before it begins i just wanna say I'm so sorry i wasn't even gonna make it angsty but idk i just wrote it and now im crying at 11pm so I'm very sorry in advance, regardless i hope you enjoy!!

It’s a calm Thursday morning as you awaken in your cosy little cottage home you live in with your parents and older brother in the countryside. You go about your business and get dressed, with it being such a calm morning you decide to pack a small lunch in your basket and go to your favourite spot for a nice lunch picnic. A spot which entails you to walk through the woodland. And so you do, it's a peaceful walk anyway.

You walk until you reach a sort of meadow-lake area and settle yourself in a nice spot with just enough shade and warmth from the sun and start to place your food out on the blanket, taking your book you had with you and begin to read. Your reading however is briefly interrupted by the rustling coming from the long grass just by your right side. A rabbit or a hare rushes by your blanket. The rustling continues and out pops a fox!! It creeps out and comes to a stand still as it spots you sitting on the grass. It watches you carefully before sprinting off.

Weird.. You think to yourself.

…

You awaken as the morning light shines through the curtains, sitting up in your bed you slip on your slippers along with a light shawl to heat you up from the chill of the morning, and make your way downstairs toward the kitchen.

Sitting at the kitchen table you grab a piece of toast and you're halfway through spreading some butter on there that your brother bursts through the back door grabbing the attention of your father.

“I caught something in one of the traps pa!!” he’s exclaiming.

Your dad is suddenly sitting up at that

“It’s about time!! Come on, i’ll show you how to get the game out of the trap”

And with that they're out the door together.

…

A few days later you’re again taking a walk in the woods, you hear something in the distance. You can't quite make out what it is. Shaking the thoughts away you continue walking, though you seem to be walking in the direction of the noise as it gets louder and closer sounding the more you walk forward.

It seems to sound like a whine of somesort.. Like a whine of pain?

You get to where the bush is and push past it. It's then that you see it.

A Fox, trapped in one of your dads traps.. Poor thing has its leg clamped shut in the metal trap. damn you hate these traps and how your father and brother do things.

The fox whines and seemingly tries to free its leg only to feel more pain and whine more.

“Poor thing..” you whisper out.

The fox halts its movements, its eyes darting towards you, only to bare its teeth and growl lowly

You slowly crouch down to be on the same level as the fox, trying your best to show you are no threat.

“Hey hey.. It's okay, let me help you” you go to touch the trap and the fox snaps at your hand.

“Now stop that. I know you’re scared but that’s no way to treat someone who's trying to help you” you firmly tell the fox.

“Damn i'm actually talking to an animal i must be crazy” you laugh out and the fox that's now stopped growling tilts its head at you.

“Just let me help you” you say as you reach for the trap again. And this time the fox allows you to get close.

Pushing the release lever on the trap you pull the metal bars away from its leg the gentlest you could. It winces as the sharp prongs exit its leg. With its hind leg now free it turns its head toward the wound, licking it slightly before standing and what you assume would be to make a break for it. Only the small orange animal collapses with a yelp

You slightly pout, and begin to take off the shawl you were wearing. Inching your way toward the little fox you drape the shawl on its body and gently pick its dejected form off the ground and hold it close to your chest.

“Come on i'll help you” you tell the creature and begin to make your way back home.

Before reaching the front door, you decide against taking the fox inside knowing if your father or brother was to see the animal, the poor thing would most likely be ‘put out of its misery’ as your dad would say and then skinned or something of the sort.

So you decide to take the little fox into the barn and up to the floor loft where there is plenty of hay so at least the animal can be warm or hide if need be..

Placing the ball of ginger fur down on the hay you walk away and begin to make your way back down.

“I’ll be right back okay?” you tell it.

And with that you rush back into the house through the back door, not taking into account what your family would think if they saw you with the blood on your dress had they been in the kitchen. Thankfully though no one was there. Your whole family is seemingly still in the town.

Raking through the cupboards you find what you're looking for: bandages, antiseptic, suture kit and scissors. As well as pouring some hot water in a bowl and grabbing a cloth and a bowl before placing all the items into a small basket, you make sure to wash your hands thoroughly well and then you make your way back into the barn, the fox thankfully still where you left it. Not that it had any choice..

Sitting down as close as you could to the creature you organise and place all the items on the floor beside you, the animal carefully eying all the items up.

Taking the bowl filled with hot water and carefully dip the cloth into the water, slightly ring it out and begin to gently wipe away at the dried blood stuck on its fur as well as the fresh thats slightly dripping out of the gash on its leg, the fox slightly hissing at the contact with the cloth.

Placing the bloody cloth back into the basket you pick up the antiseptic and drench a little pad with the solution.

“This will probably sting a little” you tell the animal and then you dab the pad on its wound

The fox lets out a bark and attempts to pull its leg away, but the wound needs to be cleaned so you hold onto the leg as hard yet as gently as you could so the animal couldn't pull away.

The fox whines again and just lets its head fall onto the hay giving up on pulling away and just lets you do your thing.

Opening the suture kit, the little fox eyes your movement and you swear you saw it gulp as you thread the needle. You begin to stitch its wound closed, it doesn't take long.. you think maybe about 10 to 15 minutes? Then you take the bandages and begin to wrap the leg to prevent any infection.

“There all cleaned up” you tell the fox gently running your hand on its fur

“Now you have to stay in here for the next few days whilst you heal so don’t be trying to escape” you add, and then you drape a blanket over its tiny form to keep it warm and also hidden.

Over the next 10-14 days you keep checking up on the little fox, changing its bandages as well as bringing him little scraps of meats from the dinner table

You loved having the little fox in the barn. You often read up there and used the barn as a place of solitude but it was nice having some company even if in the form of a fox, and you know you shouldn't have but in turn it caused you to name the fox. Ironically you named him ‘Todd’. and although it was silly you felt you and the little fox had grown a friendship within those weeks.

Walking into the barn with some chicken scraps you were not mentally prepared to see ‘Todd’ up and walking but you knew he’d be healed up soon enough and you’d have to let him go.

Placing the little bowl of chicken down for the fox to eat, you gently unwrap the bandage from its leg to see nothing but a whitish scar going through the black fur.

You sigh sadly as the fox tilts its head at you.

“Well Todd you’re finally all healed. It's time for you to go back home. It's not exactly safe here for you” you tell Todd. you knew it was only a matter of time before your dad walked into the barn and found the little creature so it was best to let him go before that happened.

“Come on” you gesture and the fox follows you down the stairs of the barn and you both walk out and in the direction of the forest.

Once you felt you’d walked far enough away you bent down to the little fox.

“This is where i say goodbye todd” you say “go on” you tell him

The sitting fox looks at you, lets out a little bark and then breaks out into a little run away into the forest.

You don’t know what you were expecting the goodbye to be like but you suppose that was just how it was supposed to be.

…

Now you thought you would never see the little fox again but somehow whenever you had your little picnics by the lake ‘Todd’ would join you. This happened almost every time you were there as if the fox knew you were going to be there.

You were walking home after one of your picnics with ‘Todd’ entering the home you see your father, mother and brother sitting at the table as well as an unknown man.

Your parents seem to have a huge smile on their faces.

“y/n please. Sit and join us. We have something to discuss with you” your mother begins.

Confused, you place your basket onto the worktop and sit down at the table.

Your father clears his throat.

“y/n. This is George” your father introduces the unfamiliar man.

You awkwardly smile at the man and introduce yourself a little better.

“You’re going to wed him” your father adds

You respectfully decline the offer

“This is not up for discussion y/n. You will marry George, he's a good man. You’ll be in a good sturdy home and he's a great hunter” your father adds even more.

You knew there was no arguing with him but you could however at least postpone it a little bit

“Well if i have to marry him can’t i atleast get to know him a little better before?” you ask.

Both your parents and George agree.

…

You’ve been on tons of dates to get to know George but you just don’t like him one bit and he is a foxhunter..

You're both sitting on your porch, unbeknownst to you of a little orange fuzz ball watching the both of you intently. As the other man makes small advances such as touching you lightly or trying to get closer the little fox notices your discomfort

George moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh.

“So.. are you ready to marry me yet..?” he asks you

You uncomfortably and awkwardly move away from him slightly you hum

“I think I need more time,” you tell the man.

George sighs out angrily

“That's all you've been saying the past few months, when will you ever be ready y/n!!?” the man raises his voice at you standing up on the porch.

The little fox growls lowly in his spot from the bushes, still observing.

You stand giving apologies to the man and enter your home.

George runs a hand angrily through his hair and gets in his truck slamming the door and drives off.

‘Todd’ still in the bushes watches the home, watching as you slip out the back door and up into the barn.

And then he slowly makes his way into the forest away from your home.

You sit up in the barn loft with your feet dangling out of the big window at the top. You sigh, tossing your book onto the floor beside you. You’re then startled by a little bark.

Turning to look behind you you see ‘Todd’ trotting towards you with what seems to be a small vole in his mouth, he places it on the ground beside you and nudges it towards you when you just stare at the prey on the ground, the fox sits tilting his head at you.

“I- Todd.. i appreciate it but i can’t do anything with that..” you tell the little fox.

‘Todd’ picks the vole back up and walks away with it.

This continues over the next few weeks, ‘Todd’ bringing you a wide variety of animals as well as fruits. Most of the fruits you accept but the rats, other animals and sometimes rotten foods you cannot accept.

You’re in the kitchen helping your mother when you hear your father call for you from the door.

Walking to the front door you see what all the hullabaloo is. George is back…

He gets out of his truck going to the truck bed and pulls out a fox pelt

Your eyes widen. You wanna throw up.

“For the lady” George says as he holds the pelt in front of you,

You seem to zone out for a second, being brought back by your father telling you to take the pelt. You take it and bring it inside and place it on the table but then go straight to your room.

The little fox watching from the distance is heartbroken as he sees you accept the pelt. You won't accept his tokens of affection but you’ll accept his.. That murderer's gifts. ‘Todd’ lowly snarls at this and walks away.

It had been weeks since you last saw you little ‘Todd’ and you had no reason why.

You’re sitting in the meadow with George, you silently read your book.

George slowly moves closer to you, his hand resting by your back. Which ever so slowly creeps up to rest on your shoulder.

Closing your book you turn to him.

“I’d appreciate it if you'd remove your hand, it makes me uncomfortable” you say to him.

He laughs “uncomfortable? Come on Y/n we’ll be married soon. I’m gonna do a lot more than hold you like this”

You hold your gaze with him firmly.

“You’re an idiot if you think i'm gonna let you get intimate with me in any way George '' you tell him.

He doesn't like this, he raises his hand and slaps you across the face and grabs your jaw.

“What? You won't let me?” he laughs again. “You’ll be my woman, I can do whatever I want to you. When I want” he tells you as he places his lips on yours pushing you down on the blanket.

You hit and thrash at him telling him to stop. He doesn't listen.

As you struggle, He holds your hands together with one hand as he undoes and pulls off his belt with the other and ties it around your hands.

All the while you’ve been screaming and attempting to kick your feet at him. Hoping and praying for anyone.. Hell anything would hear you.

He kisses you again and this time you bite his lip as hard as you could.

George pulls away with a yelp. He touches his lip and sees the blood. He laughs a bit, his eyes darken and he hits you across the face again. His ring cuts your cheek in the process.

He begins to hike your dress skirt higher

“I’m going to take you now. No matter if you like it or not, I'll fill you up and then we’ll get married. And you’ll give me a nice healthy son” he tells you all while unbuttoning his shirt

He slides down between your thighs and places a kiss there.

You let out more protests and another call for help though you’re not sure how good your attempt was as it came out more a whisper between your sobs.

“I believe the lady said no” you hear someone's voice and then George is ripped away from you. You immediately sit up, scooting back till you hit the tree and try to get your breathing under control. You look at the situation.

There's another man. He has lightish brown hair and is wearing a simple white button up shirt. Sleeves rolled up and some jeans?

He’s on top of George throwing punches at him left and right.

“If you ever fucking touch her like that again” the man said. You swear you heard his growl as he said that.

George though manages to escape running away from the man back into the forest, not before calling him a psycho.

The man turns towards you and the anger slowly melts off his face.

He walks towards you and kneels.

“Here let me help you” he says gesturing to your bound hands

As he takes the belt off your hands you take in his details. He has very pretty brown eyes. And just below his eyes rests a little mole-

Before you can take in more details he stands putting his hand out for you to take and you do.

The man sighs out.

“Why don’t you just come with me y/n..” he whispers

Your eyes widen slightly

“How do you-” you go to ask him how he knows you

But he shushes you

“Let me show you” he says and then begins to take his shirt off and goes to take his jeans off next

You sort of yelp in surprise and look away

The man chuckles slightly.

“You have to look silly if you're gonna see” he says

You take a deep breath in and keep your eyes on his face.

He then started to grow little orange pointed ears with black tufts at the tips, you literally just blink and the next second a fox sits in front of you. Not just any fox ‘Todd’!! You’re in shock

“T-Todd!!?” you manage to speak.

The fox chirps and walks towards you happily.

You bend slightly to rub your hand on his head as he sort of bumps his head into your touch.

The little fox bites the bottom of your dress and tugs at it lightly, silently asking to follow him. And strangely enough you do.

The fox never lets go of your skirt as it pulls you through the forest deeper and deeper past the trees. Until he does. He drops your skirt out of his mouth and happily treads towards the huge redwood tree turning around barks for you to follow and goes into what you assume is his den..

You stand for you don’t know how long. Not making any advance towards the tree.

The fox pops his head back out pulling you from your thoughts as he tugs your skirt again pulling you closer to the tree and this time you follow him in. you’re not sure why. All you know it’s because you feel safe with him even though it's confusing and your thoughts are flying at 100mph.

The underground den was actually pretty spacious; you were able to stand up completely once through the tunnel into the main system of the den.

The first room to you looks like a little living room area as well as what seems to be a little kitchen due to the little fire pit that is under a hole for the smoke to go out.

You turn back to the fox who had shifted back to being a human? Though he still had his ears and bushy tail. And yes. He was wearing clothes.

“I dug this out all by myself, there's more rooms and things through the tunnels if you wanna take a look” he says gesturing to the other holes going off into other chambers connected to this main central room. You nod and slowly shift to look in the other rooms.

There's one just stocked with wood which you assume is for the little fire pit.

Another which looks like random things but the fox soon tells you that those are his treasures

Another looks to you to be a bathroom or well a bath. There's a small pool with actual flowing water. you ‘re very impressed by the craftsmanship of the foxes den.

The fox sits watching you explore your his home, his chest puffed up with pride as you compliment him.

As you make your way to look in the last part of the den, he stops you.

“W-wait- before you see the last room. I'm sure you have questions and want me to explain” he says

You nod “yes, i’d appreciate that Todd” you tell him

The fox frowns.

“Wooyoung,” he says.

You furrow your eyebrows confused.

“My name. It's Wooyoung” he says again

Oh..

“Oh I'm sorry. I didn't realise. Then yes, please wooyoung explain”

“I’m what you’d call a hybrid. I’m part human and part animal. In this case, I'm a fox. I have the ability to change between being fully human or shapeshift into a fox or i can keep my ears or tail” he explains and you nod in your understanding.

He breathes in

“I- id like you to stay with me y/n.. I know it might take time but from that day you saved my life. I knew I wanted you as my partner, my mate. And if you’d let me, I want to court you. So please won't you stay with me?” he asks.

You contemplate your odds. Your family wants to marry you off to some sicko and probably won't even care that he tried to touch you without your consent.

Wooyoung on the other hand seems genuine plus he protected you and you do like the little fox

“I’ll stay… with you” you tell him quietly

His eyes widen at your answer

“You will!!?” he asks again

You nod with a smile.

He jumps you in a hug “thank you thank you thank you!!” he purrs a rumble from his chest and you gently stroke his hair

…

Living with Wooyoung was actually pretty nice. He was super sweet, always respecting your boundaries and for a fox he's a pretty good cook

As the months go on your relationship grows and begins to stem into something more when you finally allow wooyoung to court you. It was around December now. Fresh white Snow covers what was bright green grass. Food is also scarce, you’re often left alone in the den whilst wooyoung goes out and hunts for whatever he can find: hares, rabbits. Fish on an odd occasion and sometimes even bringing back a chicken if he's successful enough to steal one from a farm. You hate when he sneaks onto farms.. It's so dangerous for him as a fox and sometimes you worry he won’t come back one of these days..

Today was no different, left alone in the den whilst woo goes out to hunt promising to be back before nighfall. Now being in the den wasn't all borning you had various books to read, you even had a little sketchbook that you are doing collections of little drawings in.

You just so happened to get lost in a book and by the time you put it down and popped your head out of the opening of the den into the cold air it was already night. Wooyoung still isn't back..

Crawling back into the den you decide to distract yourself and tidy the space a little bit. You reorganise the little bookshelf, tidy around the firelogs. Just whatever you can do really. You must've been really into it though to jump when a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a face snuggling into the crook of your neck.

“Mmmmh baby~ i’m back” wooyoung says as he snuggles closer to you.

He’s cold against your back but you find yourself relaxing into his hold regardless, he places a kiss on your cheek

You turn around to face him and take in his appearance.

His face slightly red from coming into the warmth of the den from the cold

Clothes are a tad bit dirty with dirt. You’ll have to remember to wash them for him at some point. His brown hair is slightly messy.

Wooyoung gives you a cheeky smile “i brought you something~ wait here” he says gesturing you to sit down whilst he now in his fox form goes back outside the den.its not long before he’s back and clutched between his teeth: a fairly large chicken..

His little fox form happily pads towards you and he drops the chicken gently on the floor in front of you and shifts back.

He smiles at you

“So!! Do you like it??” he asks.

You smile softly.

“I love it Woo.. but you know i hate when you go onto farms.. What if the farmer catches you or worse..” you explain to him. Tears forming in your eyes.

His face flashes with panic at your tears.

“Hey hey.. Its okay.. That’ll never happen..” he says as he takes you into his arms rubbing your back.

“I don’t know what i’d do without you” you add through your sobs.

He places a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll always be here. m’not going anywhere so… don’t worry love” he tells you softly.

He places a kiss on the tip of your nose

“Now.. what do you say we get comfortable hmm?” he asks you with a cheeky grin and proceeds to place kisses down your neck slowly moving the pair of you back towards the nest full of fuzzy and soft pelts and furs

You giggle slightly as the kisses continue, he eventually pushes you back to lay on the furs, he slots himself between your legs as your fingers weave themselves between his hair, tugging sometimes ever so gently. At some point during the makeout session he pulls back allowing you to catch your breaths and he tugs his jumper off tossing it somewhere away from the nest. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, of course you've seen him shirtless before but in this setting it just feels so different- and it gets your heart racing.

Wooyoung leans back into your neck placing more kisses and taking in your scent.

He sighs contently

“baby you smell so good” he hums now placing little nibbles on the skin of your neck.

He pulls away a little again and this time he looks straight into your eyes.

“Sweetheart, i wanna show you how much I love you.. Can i?” he asks

You nod and he shakes his head.

“No.. baby i need to hear you say it, cause once i start i won't be able to stop” he looks seriously into your eyes

You nod again “yes, you can, please” you tell him verbally this time.

He nods slowly again “okay..” and he places a slow kiss onto your lips

He pulls you to sit up breaking the kiss, and pulls your own sweatshirt over your head your lips quickly captured in another kiss

Laying you back down the kisses now travel down your neck, to your chest and across your stomach, he gazes up at you through his eyes and begins to tug your jeans off all the while you watch him intently.

He pulls you to sit up once more, placing another kiss softly on your shoulder and his hands moving towards your back ”may i?” he asks

“Yeah” you breathe out and then he's slowly unclasping your bra and tugging off your underwear. And kicking off his own. He lays you back down and your quick to cover yourself up.

He pulls your hands away “don’t hide love.. You’re so beautiful” and he starts leaving his kisses again..

“So fucking stunning baby”

He slithers down and begins leaving kisses on your thighs leaving little nips every so often little marks beginning to form

And then he’s between your thighs slowly pushing himself into you

You gasp, hands shooting to grip his shoulders. “Woo..” you whine out feeling the stretch

“Mmh it's okay baby.. I got you..fuck you’re so tight” woo moans out

He places more wet kisses on your lips and his hands lace into your own pinning them down onto the fur as he begins to thrust

Gasps, heavy breathing and moans are the only things heard throughout the den, if anyone was to be that deep in the forest they’d turn the other direction.

Wooyoung whispers sweet little words and praises to you as his movements are slow yet powerful.

“You’re doing so well for me baby”

“Taking me so well”

“Just a little bit more”

“That's my girl”

“So pretty”

That's when you feel it building up in your stomach, that knot that just wants to come undone.

“Woo..” you moan out, tears filling your eyes

“I’know bubs.. Just a little longer for me hmm? Y-you can do that for me” his thrusts getting more powerful

“I c-can’t-” you cry out

“S-shit” he gasps out “yes you can baby, be my good girl” he coos

His hands slipping from your hand go to grip your hips as he seems to push himself deeper inside you and it has the tears finally dripping from your eyes

“Fuck w-wooyoung” you sob out

His grip gets tighter on your hips, definitely gonna leave a mark

“Pretty girl~” he coos again “gonna fill you nice and full with my kits” he moans out

“You like that baby? You’d look so pretty, your stomach all plump and round with our litter” he whines out and attacks your lips with kiss after kiss after kiss biting your lips gently making them more swollen.

And then it snaps, your release falling over you in waves and wooyoungs painting your insides hot and white.

Your bodies glisten with sweat, his hair a mess and sticking in every direction, his forehead leans on yours as he chants over and over again “i love you”

…

Eyes fluttering open you’re met with a mop of brown hair, he’s still asleep so peaceful looking, gently you place a kiss onto his mole just under his eye and while still under the furs you snuggle tighter into them. His eyes blink open

“Morning baby” his voice rasps out as he snuggles into your neck leaving a kiss. He pulls you closer to him

He sighs out “i love you so much”

You return the saying and smile softly, yeah you could definitely get used to waking up like this

…

A good few months later as expected your tummy did in fact have a tiny little person in there.

Wooyoung was overjoyed, he began to dig out another little room in the den. A nursery for your little ones and the both of you decorated it together. The perfect little space to raise your young together.

…

It wasn't long before the cries of babies soon filled the den, three. You had three little ones. Two twins and then another little one a few years later

A little girl the oldest and two little boys. 2 of them are fox hybrids like woo the little girl and boy and the other boy the youngest just like you.

You named your daughter: youngsoo

Your eldest son: youngjoon

And the youngest: jaewoo

You’re heart warmed seeing how well woo takes care of and loves his children

…

Watching your children grow alongside wooyoung will always be the most precious memories you’ll keep in your heart. Your children are now at the ages of 7 and 5

You’re in the den with your youngest and daughter, wooyoung having took youngjoon out to show him how to hunt despite you being against it.

You’re baking with youngsoo whilst jaewoo naps in the nursery.

As you bake however there's a nagging feeling in your chest that you can’t seem to shake off. The feeling gets worse as time passes and wooyoung and youngjoon aren’t home.

“Youngsoo baby.. Look after jaewoo would you? Mama will be right back, just gonna go see if your father and brother are on their way okay baby?” you place a kiss on her forehead and she nods.

You exit the den and see the beautiful spring colours and begin walking in the direction the boys trotted off in when they left the den this afternoon.

You must’ve walked a good solid 30 - 40 minutes before you heard it

“M-mummy”

You run off in the direction as you hear your little one

Brushing by trees and bushes until finally you get to him.

There he is crouched against a tree, tears soaking his little face

“youngjoon” you breathe out

His head snaps up to you and he's quickly running over

“Mummy” he sobs

“It’s okay bubs, mummys here”

Its only then when you take in your surroundings you notice wooyoung is nowhere to be found.

The nagging feeling becomes more stronger and you shakily sigh out

“Youngjoon baby… where's your daddy?” you ask

And his little eyes fill with more tears, he hugs you tighter and repeat over “im sorry”

Your heart begins to sink, your own eyes filling with tears

“B-bubs.. Tell mama what direction daddy is” you ask voice cracking

And the poor little soul of a boy points. You tell him to stay right in this spot and not to move and then your rushing off

“Wooyoung i swear to god you better be okay” you hands grip at your chest

Then you hear it, loud and as clear as day

BANG

a gunshot…

No.. no..

You burst through the clearing.

A farm.

And instantly your eyes see it

The farmer dragged away a fox across the granite stoney ground. From a pool of blood and a train being left behind

And your tears soak the grass as you fall to your knees in heartbreak.

And as your heart breaks you bring yourself to remind that you will forever and always will be his…

#starrywooyo #starrywooyo fics #starrywooyo au #wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung oneshot au #hybird au #angst #smut

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shotorozu · 1 year

Text

pretend boyfriend

(i use guardian because idk there was this one time i used “mom” in a though unrelated n old draft and i showed it to someone and they replied with “i don’t have a mom” 😧)

note(s): also this totally wasn’t inspired by something that happened to me some time ago 😭 and this upload is late so IGNORE that it’s no longer february (actually, for 10 days now) and focus on how i’m early for white day— basically a day in japan in which guys give chocolate to their crush or partner instead of girls giving chocolates to guys (which happens on valentines day) white day is on march 14 btw

»»————-　♡　————-««

you realize your sad plan for your single, partner-less white day— an extension of valentines day, backfired on you when your guardian asks you about a boyfriend upon your usual visit from school.

“what?” you question, sounding unbelieving of the question, like it was a collection of meaningless words. “i don’t have a boyfriend—”

“the chocolates say otherwise,” they point out, interested in the heart shaped box of sweets. “can i see a picture? i need to know if they’re good for you!”

what an… interesting way to determine who’s good for you. “there’s no boy— no one, trust me.” you insist, sounding a little more panicked than you would’ve liked— and this only fueled her suspicion.

“there has to be someone, you’re beautiful!” they insist. you would’ve felt complimented if it weren’t for the context of it all, and also the fact that they’re just talking about physicality “really, who gave it to you?”

you’re hesitant to say that you actually bought them yourself, not just to replicate the experience of having a significant other, (now that you’ve realized how hard you’ve been pining over someone incredibly unattainable)

but also because you couldn’t resist the contents of the box.

sure, you were given other pieces of chocolate and sweets from your classmates even some of the girls! (which wasn’t common to see on white day of all days) and a suspiciously expensive looking cupcake box landed on your table too.

(you didn’t eat it, you just couldn’t accept the fact that it wasn’t actually decor, until you went to eat lunch and smelled the thing.)

but those chocolates were obviously obligatory, considering the context of white day. besides, the box you bought was different— it had all your favorite flavors and it was from your favorite sweets brand. you just couldn’t help but tear a small portion of your allowance out of your wallet for this treat alone.

you don’t know what your guardian would say— they’d either insist that you’re lying, or they’d make fun of you, and none of these options sound appealing.

you deflate, not having a good defense. “… a friend.”

they don’t seem convinced. nobody used a friend to refer to their actual friend. you mentally beat yourself over this simple mistake.

this only proves their point, “hmm, okay..”

there’s a beat of silence.

“i’m still expecting a picture.”

your heart rate picks up, and you can feel your veins be filled with anxiety.

and now you’re returning to the dorms, absolutely mortified— and it clearly shows on your face based on how your best friend, todoroki shouto, approaches you at the front door with a concerned look.

“you look.. distressed.” he notes out loud, as he opens the door.

shouto’s quick to help you get your shoes off, letting you lean on him as you undo your shoelaces. he pulls off each shoe afterwards— the action so casual.

“it’s because i am, shouto!” you exclaimed, following him in. “i did something stupid and now i’m paying the consequences of my actions!”

shouto’s two toned brows furrow, there’s a deep look settled on his pretty face— and he draws all his focus on you. “whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“i’m sure but, my ego! my dignity!” you groan, and your hands cover your face as if it’ll burrow you away from the embarrassment and transport you to a place of peace.

“i won’t laugh,” he says, an indirect way of saying that he won’t absolutely clown you for any of your decision making skills.

shouto then holds his pinkie up, waiting for you to take it. it’s a clear show that he’s intent. “promise.”

“sure,” you say as you link pinkies, the warmth of his pinkie making embarrassment creep up your neck instantly. “i trust you.”

you breathe in as preparation. “i bought chocolates for myself and my guardian thinks i have a boyfriend and is asking for a picture, so now i’m screwed because i don’t have a boyfriend in the first place, and i’ve told them that i don’t but they just don’t believe me, so i might have to get a fake boyfriend for a picture!”

all of it just spilled out at once. you aren’t even sure if shouto understood, let alone was able to comprehend all of it due to the lack of reaction.

but when you carefully examine— you realize that a reaction slowly shows on his face, like it just dawned on him the information you’ve dumped.

“fake boyfriend.” he echoes, “for a picture.”

“yes!” you groan, mortified of the other possible solution of the matter being slapped in your face again, “and they need to be tall, handsome, and apparently someone that looks rich— don’t know how a picture can prove that, we don’t even have jobs.”

“anyway, they’ll just criticize me for my choice in people.” you sigh, “i’m lost.”

he folds his arms together, and he unintentionally flexes. your eyes follow the movement for a short second before you realize that you cannot be caught gawking at someone you’ve met when you were both five. “it appears you are quite in a situation.”

“yeah..”

“if only there was someone available to help.”

“yeah—”

“someone close to you.”

“i figured— it’d be awkward to ask someone who i’m not really close with to be my fake…” you trail off, brows furrowing when you realize there might be some insinuation in his words. you can’t tell what he is necessarily eluding to— but,

you take a good look at shouto— an very good look. you size him up, and he allows this as he is basically standing politely. there’s a fixed look of stillness in every aspect of his expression, and he’s calm when he speaks,

“i could play the role.” he suggests like he doesn’t understand the weight of his words, or he doesn’t care that much about it.

you can feel your heart in your throat all of a sudden, and the beat of it is becoming painfully loud.

“shouto,” you somehow manage to get out, “they know who you are.”

your deep rooted history together as close friends would be seen as a plus point, if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve refrained from showing (let alone hinting) any sign of your feelings for him. shouto did the same, except you are absolutely sure he doesn’t want anything more than platonic with you— as he has displayed no such signs.

the sudden shift of events would raise more questions instead of just solving one.

besides, who doesn’t know him nowadays? he’s tall, good looking, strapped with money and a multipurpose and hella useful quirk. heck— his appearance during the sports festival was a huge thing and has definitely made a positive mark on his reputation.

additionally, it was hard for your guardian to miss someone with an alluring presence like shouto’s, and a head full of naturally snow-like, and flaming red hair.

you think carefully before coming up with something easy. “what if i just asked one of the girls to wear an oversized hoodie; and stand on a stool? i’d crop out their face, of course. kyouka or yaomomo could—”

before you were allowed to finish your thought, shouto continued to press on his idea. “i’d be the most preferable, since the backstory makes the most sense.”

you pause. you’ve never thought of an actual backstory for you too, and you couldn’t quite indulge in the self blame— you didn’t think he’d agree at all.

“childhood friends turned best friends, and with a bond that drew us together.” his gaze fleets somewhere below your eyes, and then he draws them back up— a small boyish grin now blessing his face. “besides, you’d be in quite some trouble if they asked for a picture of their face.”

oh, that description sounded way too close to home, so much that you forgot. now that shouto mentioned one, that solution does seem to have its loop holes.

“touché.” the lengths he’d do for you is admirable, and your heart would’ve stuttered if it weren’t for the dull reminder from the back of your mind, of what it’s really like between the two of you.

“so uhm, what now? do you want to take the picture right later or—”

“now would be good.”

“oh uh, okay then…” shouto never wastes time, even when it came to unimportant stuff it seems, and he watches as you shift around to find your phone.

getting your phone is something that never takes any time, but with everything being taken account for, your hands are starting to feel like jelly.

after opening your camera app and switching to selfie mode, you position your phone carefully. not just like a photographer that was about to capture a rare wild animal laying still, but also similarly to how people take pictures with celebrities.

you are cautious of the angle. although you’ve almost seen every single expression that he could make— you’re worried how you could make everything look good, make him look phenomenal. (although it seems impossible to make him look anything but)

you end up snapping a photo that’s majorly of him, and the only show of you being in the same frame was the very top of your head shoved to the corner of the screen.

the two of you stare at the photo, exchanging glances. you might think that this is enough, considering that this photo of shouto is nowhere on the internet. so— plus one for authenticity, sorta.

he’s not your real boyfriend, but your guardian won’t know that from looking at the picture.

“let’s do a retake.”

you nearly stumble, like his words were a gust of strong wind. “huh?”

“this photo.. doesn’t seem authentic. i wouldn’t know what it’d be like to be in a relationship but the couples on television look— different. don’t you think?”

you take another look at the photo. although the couples shouto is referring to are actresses and actors playing roles— he’s right for the most part. the distance between the two of you is hard to miss, nobody would be able to guess that you two were together.

not to mention, it’s more of a picture of him instead of the both of you.

“alright then,” you say in agreement. “any suggestions?”

“if i may.”

“of course you may,” you encourage.

“then…” he shifts, feet moving closer to you. “if you’ll allow me.”

shouto’s hands reach out, and you’re immediately drawn to them. although unsure about his next course of action, you don’t stop him as he pulls you close— hands with contrasting temperatures maneuvering the positions to his liking.

eventually, the two of you were positioned in a way that made you encase shouto in your arms and have you turnt slightly towards the camera.

the side of your faces are pressed against each other’s, and despite trying your best to stop it, the proximity had your heart thumping against your ribcage once again.

making sure you don’t prolong the ordeal more than you need to— you snap the picture and attempt to pick yourself up afterwards.

but shouto makes no effort in detaching himself from you, relaxing in your arms as he leans against you to view the picture. you feel yourself flustering again, and you just know that he could end you one day and be blissfully unaware of how and why.

although you just took a big risk that could possibly have your feelings found out— you were just as curious as he was to see the outcome.

and you two seemed like a couple indeed.

“thoughts?” you ask in place of allowing yourself to slowly pass away on the inside. your skin feeling increasingly hot all of a sudden, and you’re confident the boy beside you has nothing to do with it this time.

“just as i suspected.” a small smile pulls at his lips, “we look good together.”

your brain buffers, “huh?—”

and then, he’s pressing his soft lips onto your cheek— pulling back as quickly as he pressed his lips onto you.

you choke on practically nothing, and you stare at him with eyes so wide they rival saucers.

and then it started to make sense, “what— are you playing me?— you’re doing all of this for a picture i didn’t even take!”

he tilts his head, confused for a moment before letting out a disapproving noise. “i… was teasing at some point, but i would never play you. i even pinkie swore.” he said, holding the same pinkie he linked with yours earlier to prove his memory.

“so why… after all this time?”

his gaze sharpens, “why not?” he states simply, “i figured just recently that.. the feelings are mutual, and that you’re interested in the way i’m interested in you.”

he clutches you, shoving himself deeper in your embrace, “besides, there was no way i’d let you ask anyone else to be your pretend boyfriend when i’m right here.”

“it would be just for a picture though.” you note, slightly amused that todoroki shouto was jealous at the idea of having a pretend boyfriend for a picture— even if said pretend boyfriend were to be one of the girls from your class.

a specific blank expression is pinned onto his face. “still.” he replies, quite dryly.

though the expression immediately melts away as he says these next words, “now then,” gorgeous, gorgeous heterochromatic eyes meeting yours in a gaze. shouto holds it, and it seems that he’s taking advantage of his effect on you. he’s quick, not to mention— observant too.

“we should take another picture, one that’s much real.”

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lovekz · 2 months

Text

make me the last

syn -> famous photographer and artist rin fumbled the baddest bitch in his life.

content warnings : infidelity, drinking, foul language, idk word vomit

it was around six-twenty something in the afternoon, the sun was beginning to rest from the sky.

rindou had you laying in bed nude, recently recovering from a round of intense lovemaking.

"where do you wanna go for dinner baby?" rindou asks in a hushed voice, rubbing your hand slowly.

you glance at him intrigued, before giggle against his chest. "let a girl breathe first." you joked, shoving his chest playfully.

rindou laughs beside you, before pulling you closer to his much warmer body.

he pressed a kiss to your hand, tracing the ink with his eyes.

your ring finger had tatted ink around the base as though it were a ring, the moon and sun sitting in the clearing.

the skin closest to your thumb had a rose and a little heart heart beside it.

rindou had drawn these a couple years back, his first pieces of art that he published.

on your third anniversary, you decided to get them tatted and he loved it.

you huff a bit, before feeling his hand snake under your hip and roll the both of you over so you were on top of him.

"what about.. that restaurant that just opened. solace?" you suggest, pushing his hair to rest behind his ears.

he tilts his head back and thinks for a bit, before nodding with a short smile.

"think i'd like that." rindou offers a grin, rubbing the fat of your bare backside in his warm palm.

you hum quietly, muttering okay and pressing your nose into the junction between his neck and shoulder.

a few extra minutes in bed never hurts anyone, the restaurant wasn't going anywhere.

the two of you showered, got dressed in some casual clothes, and headed out to get to the restaurant.

thankfully, it wasn't too packed so you got your privacy and was able to take pictures and enjoy your food in peace.

most of the pictures taken was of you, eating, enjoying the drinks and music, and even posing outside.

rindou was only in some, in which he kinda hid his face in every now and then.

only people you were close to knew you were dating rindou, and by close you meant his brother and your shared friends.

other than that, it was a private relationship and thankfully no one seen the two of you on your causal outings.

"hey. i'm gonna use the bathroom and then we can leave." rindou says, pointing towards the back.

you glance at the sign and nod, waving him off and looking back to see which picture you wanted to post.

he gets out of his seat and makes his way their, stretching lightly.

the time length only bothers you when you hear your waitress clear her throat to gain your attention.

your eyes scan the room in confusion, your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

"i'm sorry, he's-" "i know where he is." the waitress cuts you off, sitting at the table with a soft smile.

you quirk an eyebrow at her, immediately sitting up in defensive mode.

you don't believe you've seen her face anywhere, but she sure as hell seemed to know you.

regardless, she's got your full attention and you want to know what she wants.

but thinking back, maybe you should've protected your peace and waited outside.

"i'm amira. you don't know me." she introduces, digging into her pocket with a short hum.

no shit, you think, tucking a hair behind your ear.

she pulls out a brown envelope and slides it over to you, before standing and taking the check book.

"get home before he does. you'll want to."

boy do you regret not keeping your peace. you stood in the kitchen, holding your head.

frustration. anger. horror. sadness.

you had no idea what to do, what to say.

in the brown envelope, there was a hand written letter from the waiter amira inside, along with a few polariods from the film you got him for his birthday.

it was one of a kind, because you purposely had them custom made.

it explained how she had been one of his girls up until a few months ago, when she found out about you.

said you had called in the middle of the two of them having sex, claiming a miscarriage.

he discarded it, explaining that you were 'his sister' and you needed him right this minute

his sister.

and she'd done her research, finding out about you through his brother by accident.

said she's sorry, and if she had known she wouldn't have spoken to him or even batted an eye.

the rest of the polariods were pictures of him and other girls, each one getting worse than the previous.

there were also messages of him and other girls talking, all having that same exact heart you had next to your contact.

only difference is you had the shiny ring on your hand to prove you were supposedly his.

"honey? why'd you leave without me?" rindou asks, walking in with the to go bags.

you take your hands off your face and look at him, then back at the evidence in front of you.

he squints from behind his glasses and walks up to the coffee table, picking up the first piece of paper.

he stares for a while before flipping the paper to show you in confusion.

"what's this? who's is this?" rindou asked you directly, sitting next to you and holding it.

you raise from your seat and snatch your hand away from his, walking to stand on the other side of the table.

"your pictures, your film, your texts. what is this- how dare you!" you raise your voice, mocking him.

rindou sighs, giving you a irritated look and standing from his seat.

"you don't have to yell at me. i'm in front of you. we can talk baby." rindou reassures quietly, as though he were innocent.

he was doing that thing he does.

the thing he does to ran, or shion, or anyone but you.

speaking to you as though you were a little girl who didn't know shit from shat.

so you said the only thing you could have proof of.

"where were you when i had that miscarriage?" you questioned, taking a deep breath.

"with shion. i told you this." rindou says, crossing his arms.

you scramble around the table, before picking up a polaroid picture and presenting it to him.

the picture of him and amira, the date and time presented as well as his signature and your little 'my love' in the bottom corner.

it was what made each and every one of the polaroids different from other photographer's polaroids.

"look, i don't know how someone got these, did these, but it's honestly horrifying." rindou saids, tossing his arms out.

you blinked, before nodding.

if she were to make all of this up, she'd have to go through great lengths and see one of the pictures.

that part was true at least.

so you hold your hand out and look him in the eye.

"then let me see your phone." you whisper, pointing your chin over to his phone that sat on the headrest.

he turns and grabs it, and you snatch your hand back before he could place it in your grasp.

"your work phone, haitani." you demand, pushing the tears down your throat viciously.

rindou pauses, before glancing around the room in hurried glances.

i fucking knew it.

you snatch off the ring on your finger and throw it at him, huffing a bit and swallowing your tears.

you couldn't cry in front of him. you couldn't let him make you vulnerable and easy to manipulate.

"i went through it already. cause you made the password ran's birthday backwards right?" you explain to him, dropping the polaroid picture on the floor.

you don't let him speak, just put on your shoes and sniffled.

"just leave me alone from now on. make me the last, rindou." you whisper, before stepping outside of the house.

your things were already packed in your car.

breaking news! : famous photographer and artist ri_tani accounts missing and supposed artist is on hiatus?

is ri_tani quitting his upcoming career? or is he planning something big for his fans?

photographer and artist ri_tani has fallen off earth? what happened?

what will happen to ri_tani's muse now that he has gone on hiatus?

ri_tani's muse is currently missing! all post from the account has been taken down. is the pair alright?

block any notifications, posts, mentions, or texts about (ri_tani) ?

no | yes

confirm?

confirmed! we will hide all posts related to (ri_tani)! enjoy your peace!

lights flashed as you stepped out of the vehicle, paparazzi and such taking pictures and screaming your name loudly.

you smile brightly at everyone and the cameras, showing up to your own event fashionably late.

a reporter stopped you, holding a microphone up to your face.

"miss! what made you open a art museum as a model?" she asked hurriedly.

you smile at her, tucking your hair behind your ear and looking at her.

"being beautiful means you love being surrounded by beautiful things." you explain lightly, walking further into the place.

when you make it in, everyone is standing around having light chatter and sipping on champange.

"if it isn't the lady of the hour." you hear call from beside you.

your boss, shuji hanma, stood by one of your most prized possessions wearing a grey suit.

you made your way over to him excitedly, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"this is so exciting shu! i wouldn't be here without you." you call out, shuffling on your heels.

shuji chuckles at that, nudging your shoulder lightly and having a seat near the fountain.

"don't degrade yourself sweetheart. now enjoy. got some mingling to do." shuji says, gesturing to the group of girls that were approaching.

of course where there's your boss, there was at least one girl hanging around for him.

thank goodness you weren't one of them.

you grab a glass of champange and make your way towards the big balcony in the back, sighing.

socializing immediately was not your go to.

you just wanted to have fun and enjoy your pretty fucking huge accomplishment.

you look up at the sky, counting however many stars you could and giving yourself a estimate of how much could be in the sky.

and how much you planned to put up there.

a flash comes from behind you, and you jump lightly, before turning around to face the camera.

"jesus! couldn't get my good side at least?" you joke, ready to pose for another one.

you freeze when you see the familiar face, concentrated on shaking the film to see the picture.

he doesn't look up at you, only the picture in his hand that he was aggressively shaking.

"don't worry, you're beautiful in all angles. you're the owner, right?" the man before you questions, finally looking up.

he scans your body lightly, not invading your privacy, but looking for something.

it stops at your hand, in which you hide from his view and look away.

he looks right back into your eyes, and takes quick steps to approach you.

"you need to leave. now." you demand, stepping to the side and venturing further into the party.

he tries to catch your arm, tries to speak to you, but you pay him no mind.

the party goes on, and finishes off with the entry of a new art from a few french artists.

you move on with your life, proud of your achievements and taking a break from social media and modeling.

it isn't until you go viral on the internet once more for a reason you never wanted to that you return.

former artists muse has been revealed to be our very own 'godsent' model (name)!

why did (name) hide the fact that she was a artist's muse?

after three long years of searching, former artist finds his muse at the grand opening of arts of heaven!

did former muse (name) go awol because we found her secret?

the only reason these had popped up on your phone because they did not bring up that godforsaken name.

the name you tried to block out years ago, but it seems he's made his return back into his life and you wanted him out.

you screamed into your pillow, kicking your legs like a child.

why did he have to show up that night? why did he have to ruin everything you had going for yourself?

why couldn't you live in peace?

your phone rings, and you turn over to see shuji facetiming you.

you pick it up, showing your face like he'd probably demand you to if you hadn't when it connected.

the phone answers, and he has his phone propped up on his desk.

he seems to be at home, in the office you helped him decorate a while back while he was sick.

"good. had to make sure you were okay." shuji hums in delight, glancing at the phone for a milisecond before typing loudly.

"what am i gonna do shu? i don't wanna be known as his muse." you complain, rolling over in bed.

shuji sighs, folding his hands and facing his camera completely.

he didn't look the least amount of stress, he actually looked like he was enjoying your suffering.

"you have nothing to worry about. it's under control." shuji answers, before turning back to his computer.

it doesn't reassure you in the slightest, but you stay silent regardless.

you scroll through social media, before something completely horrifying pops up on your phone.

a art gallery, digital of course, made by ri_tani himself.

what was it you may ask?

the land of fucking love.

when rindou hears his door ring, he leans back out of his chair in confusion.

he knows he ordered groceries online, and had a few packages come it, but he specifically said not to knock or ring the bell.

so who would ignore his wishes?

he shuts off the music he had playing in the background, and it makes him freeze.

it was louise by tv girl, one of the songs he heavily related to.

he missed his muse, badly.

the knocking and ringing of his doorbell persisted, so he quickly stormed upstairs to his front door.

it was probably ran, coming to shove his niece into his hands so he could go on some adventure with his girl.

lucky him, he gets the happy ending.

rindou just gets what he can remember and the arts and pictures of his muse.

he swings the door open and is immediately greeted with you, the girl from the opening.

"you think this is funny, rindou?" you spit out, glaring daggers and wishing dangers over his head.

you say his name with such anger, such passion. it makes his heart flutter just a bit.

whoever made you knew just what they were doing.

the way you screwed up your nose, stared him down, and even raised your voice though you knew he looked and probably was stronger than you.

he wonders how you’d look if-

‘focus rindou. no time for that.’ he thinks, inhaling deeply.

"..no? i'm sorry?" he questions, crossing his arms in confusion.

he steps to the side and lets you in, watching as you kick your shoes off and walk further into the house.

you seem to know where to go, and he doesn't seem to mind it. it looks, feels, and seems natural to him.

natural enough to let you behave like a mad woman that is.

you were probably looking for something, and knew where to find it so he'll leave you be.

not because you look like you'll throw his dining chair over his head if he moves an inch or says even a syllable.

definitely not.

rindou sits at the marble counter and stares at the chandelier, waiting for your return.

and when you do, it's his laptop you hold in your hands.

you place it down onto the counter and type in the password in front of him, before opening a few tabs.

rindou must know you, since you know a lot about him down to his laptop's password.

you slide the screen over to him and he stares at his latest digital project.

the land of love.

"yes that's mine. and?" rindou questions, resting his head onto his palm as he stares up at you.

you're fucking gorgeous, but so familiar.

the feeling you give him is full of melancholy love, and he wants to know why.

"why the fuck would you make this? i told you to leave me alone!" you exclaim loudly, ready to tear his head off.

he thinks if you huff anymore you'll pass out or maybe turn into a actual tomato.

regardless, it was totally hot.

if he had his sketch book with him he would’ve drew you right there.

"okay. calm down. do i know you?" he genuinely asks, standing from his seat.

his demeanor was definitely pissing you off, but his eyes hold genuine confusion in them.

you don't know what happened, why he was either seriously pretending he doesn't know you, or why he really doesn't.

but you weren't sure if you wanted to find out.

he stares you down, before looking at the tattoo on your hand.

"you. it was you. you're my muse, right?" rindou clarifies, grabbing your hand to get a closer look then looking back at the laptop.

you don't snatch your hand out of his, just watch him as he sits down while holding your hand.

he seems happy now, unable to contain himself.

"what is going on with you?" you questioned, exasperated tone soaking your words before you can stop it.

rindou looks up at you, and lets go of your inked hand. he gestures to the seat next to him and you take it.

"the last few years i had been taking in too much alcohol and drugs on a daily basis." rindou begins, looking at the marble counter.

it must have been after you left when he started doing this, because you don't recall him drinking or smoking unless he was absolutely stressed and couldn't reach you.

you meant a lot to him, career and personal wise. but you couldn't handle not being the only one he seeked in bed.

you deserved better, and got better.

"to the point where i was drunk everyday without even drinking sometimes. it fogged my brain. even ended up.. you know." he says, not wanting to say the word.

you don't respond, waiting for him to finish.

rindou sighs, leaning back and looking up at his candle chandeler.

"i'm in rehab though. doing therapy to help figure out what i'm missing. the uh- land of love was a release of the information." rindou explains, shifting his eyes towards the site.

the information of him losing his memories.

the information about forgetting you, the most important thing that lived and breathed near him for years.

funny part is, he knew you. he just didn't know what you looked like.

hence the art slowly fading from your back portraits to just the tattoos on your hands.

you sigh, running your hands over the counter in deep thought. there wasn't anything you could say.

but he was genuine. he wanted to know what happened that made you leave.

and you told him. from start to finish.

rindou listened the entire time, not interrupting you once.

he was finally getting the information he wanted. the information he needed to move on.

the house grows silent as you run your hands up and down the marble counter.

rindou is staring up at the chandelier again, completely still.

hearing about his past self seemed.. true enough. especially if you were this mad.

“that.. I was a douche.” rindou says absentmindedly, closing his eyes.

when he doesn’t receive a response, he opens them again to look at him.

you’re glaring at him, but it doesn’t hold the same amount of anger as earlier.

rindou falters a bit under your gaze, fixing his lips into a pout.

“I… am a douche?” he questions, obviously trying to please you.

you scoff lightly, and stand up from your seat.

rindou follows you, stumbling over his mess clothes and staring at you.

you start scrambling, picking up your keys, phone, and purse.

“I shouldn’t be here. I should go.” you say quickly, sniffling and looking around.

what were you looking for?

it doesn’t matter, because rindou grabs your hand before you can try to leave.

“stay. please. why do you have to go?” rindou questions desperately.

you pause and frown, before looking at him.

“if I do, I’ll never want to leave.” you whisper, sniffling slightly.

rindou pulls you closer, watching as your other arm goes limp.

your keys fall to the floor next to you, but he does catch your phone.

“is that a bad thing?” rindou questions.

and you don’t know what to do.

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