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cozykali · 16 days

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Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

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venusbby · 1 year

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being rin's roommate had its pros and cons.

he was always quiet, minding his own business. he never really brought any trouble (except the few times he came home with an injury and expected you to let him deal with it himself) and that's what made living with him easier.

but sometimes, just sometimes, it feels like he's been forced to live with you.

you wouldn't say you were overly social or a person who could be friends with anyone they like, but god, every time you talked, rin acted like you were the most uninteresting person ever. when clearly, you were the most chill person on the planet.

exaggeration, yes. but it's not wrong to say that you weren't a loud person. you preferred silence just as much as he did. so why did he look like he's living with a totally different person?

that blank expression, his lips pressed in a straight line and those undeniably pretty lashes of his- as much as you had grown to like the look he always gave you, it was so damn frustrating. always the same stupid look, the look which made your stomach flip even though he didn't smile or show amusement.

you never knew what was going on his head.

eventually, he noticed the effort you put in to be his friend (when all you did was stare at him every time he was doing something, as if to remind him, "stop ignoring me!!! stop. ignoring. me.") and your 'friendship' was finally happening. (he felt a little scared.)

it was all going quite nicely, even though rin was still not that talkative. you knew he was just.. like that. you wouldn't expect him to change his ways. all you wanted was to help him get as comfortable as you were in this apartment, and it definitely worked.

after weeks and weeks of progress, it finally came to a point where rin was so comfortable that he even asked you to join his horror movie marathon.

and it was a big mistake, he realized, when you stood in the doorway of his bedroom with a sheepish look on your face.

"what do you want."

rin's irritated voice made you huff. he was already under his covers, but hadn't slept even though it had been almost an hour after the last movie. you felt incredibly jealous of how warm he must be, shuddering and entering his room without saying a word. a new level of comfortable.

oh, how much you loved his expressions- like how was staring at you like you were a fly that wouldn't leave him alone.

"shut up," you hushed, lifting the covers and climbing into his bed, cutting him off just as he was about to complain, "and move."

now, you laid next to your roommate who had started to consider pushing you off the bed. "this is fucking ridiculous. what the- what are you doing?" he hissed, watching you shift closer and pull the covers over yourself.

you sighed, ignoring him. "that last movie was.. something."

he groaned, staring at the ceiling just like you, avoiding the way your sides touched. "you insisted on watching it all the way, not me."

"yeah, but then i kept seeing that fucking old lady from the movie in the corner of my room. so, now im here."

"we are never doing this again. you hear me?"

"whatever, just let me sleep here tonight. it's 2 AM already, i'll be out of your room by 6."

rin cursed under his breath, turning quickly so that his back was facing you. this bed wasn't even made for two people. he closed his eyes, hoping to drift off as soon as possible so that he could just forget that you were in the same bed as him. there was no way he would let you notice the reason for his frantic movements.

his peace lasted for mere seconds before it was interrupted by the sound of shuffling and the mattress slightly sinking near his side when you wrapped your arm around him.

his eyes shot open and he stilled, hearing you softly apologize, your voice closer to his ear this time.

"i have a habit, sorry."

rin was losing his mind and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to exist tomorrow.

"you're fine." he rushed his words faster than anything, breathing out when you shifted even closer with what sounded like a silent laugh. "just go to sleep, fuck's sake."

there were no more horror movie nights after this, that's for sure. but now rin's got a bigger problem and that is dealing with these stupid feelings he has for you.

he really was losing his mind.

#itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock headcanons #blue lock manga #itoshi brothers #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock rin #idk what this is #but anything to annoy rin? im in

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nvoirs · 1 year

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Plagas Leon | Pt 2

The long awaited part 2 is here. There's no smut just a hot, heavy make out session during the end. Credits to @certifieddeadgirl for the lovely plot.

Part 1 is here

Taglist: @certifieddeadgirl @peachyealfie @honeysoakedbandages (The people that wanted a part 2 here you go)

After Leon had stuck that incredibly long needle in your neck knocking you out almost instantly you thought you'd never wake up.

So when your eyelids slowly peeled apart you were incredibly confused when you saw light. It was just an ordinary light, an LED one to be specific, but you felt at peace. Was this heaven? Had you actually made it to the ethereal place? You weren't particularly religious but that was about to change if you were really in heaven.

Your thoughts were halted when you heard a soft voice call your name, your hand felt a warmth as another was clasped onto it. Looking down at the hand, you craned your head up to match the face. Ingrid? Ingrid Hunnigan? What was she doing here in heaven, she definitely didn't die, she wasn't physically on the mission you had ventured on with Leon. Leon, where was he?

But that's when it hit you, sitting up slowly observing your close surroundings. A hospital? The air smells like Lemon disinfectant and you looked down at your green attire of scrubs. The tubes attached to your body made your eyes go wide, your heart rate shown on the monitor increasing. You clutched at one of the tubes, ready to rip it off with force if you had to but Hunnigan's hand stopped you.

“Don't.” She said it sternly but it also had a soft calming nature to it, which made you almost immediately relax your tense shoulders.

“Where- where am I?” You managed to squeak out, your own voice surprised you. Sounding extremely hoarse like you'd been screaming your lungs out for a whole hour.

“Your home.” She replied coolly. “Thankfully we were able to save you, Ashley- and Leon.”

“Leon? Where Is he?” You sounded demanding, but you were just scared you wanted to know he was safe.

Her light chuckles turned your demand into confusion. “You really do care for him don't you?” Her half grin threw you off a little.

“Of course I care for him, Ingrid, he's my partner.”

“But you care more than a partner, It's quite obvious.”

You stayed silent at that, changing the subject once more. “What about the plagas? Los Illuminados?”

“We were able to get you two to a secluded lab up North not far from this place.” She gestured to the hospital. “And you were cured in the nick of time, but as for the cult- they were taken down is all you need to know for now”

Hunnigan's words had struck a nerve in you. Flashes of being strapped to a chair strung through your frazzled mind. The pain. The pain hurt incredulously, it was almost mind numbing and that's all you could really remember.

“Ingrid- how long have I been here for?”

She looked at you sympathetically. “Almost a whole week.”

That had alarm bells ringing in your head, no way have you still got your job after this.

“Don't worry you're still employed if that's what you're wondering.” She really was a mind reader, but relief flooded through you once you knew that.

You were discharged before Leon was. But everyday you'd visit his room, hold his cool hand and talk about your day and what you did. You talked about what you wanted to do with him once he awoke from his slumber. You called it a slumber, but it really was a coma. Some days you couldn't help yourself but weep at the sight of his limp body wishing he would wake up sooner. Staying way past visiting hours and being dragged out by the nurses.

Leon's recovery was bound to take a lot more time than yours did. He was exposed to the parasite longer, and almost became one of those horrible nightmarish creatures that had you shuddering at the thought.

Leon had kissed you. He'd touched you so intimately. It honestly surprised you how much you remembered from that fateful night. The citrus scent of his, the softness of his hair, and you wanted to tell him you loved him so badly you'd do anything for him. Maybe he wasn't fully himself, but he'd admitted to liking you although not saying the three words verbally.

The day Leon awoke was an immediate surprise. No one was sure when exactly he would wake up, it was God's blessing you could call it. You happened to be the first one to know, gasping as his baby blue eyes blinked open. A soft groan emitted from his pink lips, and you couldn't help but hug him.

“Woah, slow down there girl I'm still sore.” Leon laughed at your enthusiasm, placing his weak arms around your frail body. You gently shook in his hold salty tears dripping down your cheeks as you sighed.

“I thought I lost you, I can't lose you I can't.” His hand began to stroke through your scraggly hair. Not even combed as you just couldn't have any motivation entering your broken body.

“You're not losing me baby, I'm right here.” Baby? The pet name made you cuddle into his chest, smelling his natural scent.

“Shh It's okay now, you don't need to cry.” Hushing you, Leon held you in his grasp.

A few days went by and Leon turned back into the Leon you had known before the catastrophe in Spain. And something had occurred that still gave you butterflies to this day.

Leon stood outside your apartment block holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands, a lopsided grin protruding on his angelic face. Rushing down the stairs and out the door to see just what this was, he stopped you from speaking.

“I've- liked you for the longest time and because of what happened in Spain I thought It was important to confess how I feel about you. I'm in love with you, and I want to be with you If you'll take me.” The ending was such a cheeky Leon move, and you punched his shoulder gently.

“Of course I'll take you, I love you. Do you know that?”

“I know that.” His forehead pressed against your own as he wrapped his muscular arms around your midriff.

After having a cute first little date with your new boyfriend, you found yourself in the back of his car. Straddling his thighs and pulling him as close as physically possible, mouths intertwined him whispering sweet nothings into your ear about what he wanted to do to you. He reminded you of the passionate night you shared back in Spain, it was traumatic but the sex- was great. Leon would never physically be that strong again, but something about him trying turned you on. The rest of the night was nothing but sweet love making with the man that you cherished, and for once you finally felt at peace a calm tranquil feeling seeping itself into your skin and bones.

#leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #residentevil4leon #re4 leon smut #re4 #re4make #leon s kennedy x reader

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princehee · 10 months

Text

The Wrong Guy Pt.2 || Lee Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung + fem reader

Warnings: Making out, angst, psycho Hee. Do not continue reading this if you're expecting a happy ending

Synopsis: A wrong swipe on the wrong guy on the dating app made you pay the price

Word Count: 1.3k

As the cab pulled over slowly by the parking lot, you tapped your phone screen again to make sure you arrived at the right location.

It had been only a week since you moved to this town, so you had no other option than resorting to taking a cab to get to your date's place.

Of course, your date, Ethan Lee had offered to pick you up, but you just thought it was a better idea to do some exploring on your own, after all of the nagging you got from your parents for being so dependent while your older sister took care of all her business on her own.

516 B, You whispered to yourself as you got on the elevator and started taking in every detail of your surroundings. Never in your life did you know that an elevator could be that fancy.

No wonder he went to an Ivy league school to be able to afford a place this grand!

You stood right outside his door, a little hesitant to ring the bell. You were excited for sure, but you kept internally screaming at yourself for deciding to meet a random stranger that you barely even spoke to for a few minutes. You started feeling a little queasy, footsteps receding further away from the door.

You texted his address to one of your closest friends from that town to keep tabs on you in case she didn't hear from you in a bit.

What are the chances of me being the inspiration for Netflix's next documentary?

In your five minutes of contemplation, your phone buzzed with another notification.

"You having any trouble finding my apartment?"

"I'm here"

And in less than a minute, you were greeted by the boy who made you cover fifty miles in an unfamiliar town in less than a day's time. Looking at his big, glassy brown eyes and the way his eyebrows rose as if he were in some kind of a worry, made your heart find its peace again. He sure looked just like he did in the photos, the perfect boyfriend material type that you've been searching for in your whole 22 years of life.

You stood there awkwardly blushing away while he confidently extended his hand to pull you in. You had no idea what to say to him, quite contrary to your online persona. But lucky for you, Ethan seemed to have a relaxed composure and a friendly demeanor, and his place seemed welcoming and soothing, your racing heart found its usual pace now.

You stood in the middle of the living room, awestruck by the interior decor, it was definitely like one of those houses they always show on the TV. As you kept looking around, admiring the paintings on the wall, you felt his hand stroking your back gently.

You flinched internally at sudden physical touch, but tried to keep your cool on the outside as you nonchalantly turned around only to be met with his dreamy eyes again, but this time, inches closer...

You couldn't believe how quickly things were escalating between you two, but you couldn't complain.

As his other hand grabbed your back pulling it closer to him, you slid your arms over his neck, ruffling his hair, earning a deep moan from him.

It took him seconds to connect his lips with yours, being gentle all the way through. He remembered you telling him how you'd never been kissed before, so he kept pulling away every five seconds just to check if you were doing okay.

He tried to check one more time, but your hands didn't let him. You pulled him even closer if that was even possible as you two stuck like glue at this point.

His soft lips grazed over your ear, down your neck and you could tell that he was switching from being gentle to rough with each kiss but your mind remained clouded for the most part as he hit your sensitive areas with ease.

One of his hands slid beneath your shirt, resting over the buttons of your pant. You nodded into the kiss and he swiftly started undoing them and pulling the zipper down.

You got out of your pants while still maintaining the physical touch and jumped into his arms.

"Let's take you inside, yeah?"

You responded with a hum and soon enough, you were dropped on his bed, almost whining at the loss of touch but it wasn't long before he hovered over you, touching your forehead with his and picking up from where you left off before.

Your hands grabbed his shirt and rolled it up in an attempt to get it off of him but Ethan sternly held your arms in place, making you stop what you were doing.

"My house, my rules. Okay baby?"

Although his face turned a little serious, his voice remained gentle and soft. You could only nod along and follow his commands - it was as if you were tongue tied and your body went numb.

He got off of you, making your eyebrows raise in suspicion. By the time you could say anything, he was already off the bed, moving closer to one of his drawers.

You tried peeking a glance at what he was doing but his broad shoulders shielded the view, you thought of getting up and seeing for yourself but by the time you almost touched the floor with your feet, Ethan turned around and started walking closer to you.

It was hard to see what he was holding in the dim light but the silvery glare off the metal gave an outline of something that looked like handcuffs.

You scoffed at his choice of pleasure but knew that you had to go with it no matter what, judging from his stern, poised look.

As he inched closer to you, you found yourself moving further away till your back hit the bedrest.

"Be nice, okay?" He spoke softly as he grabbed your hands and cuffed them to the bed. "Good girl" he said before he dipped his face in your tummy, leaving wet kisses and making you moan like a mess.

"Ethan, kiss me" Your voice came out as if you were pleading which turned him on even more.

He brought his lips back to yours and you thanked the heavens for being able to feel him against you again.

His teeth nibbled on your ear and slowly dropped to the strap of your bra, dragging it down and under your shoulder.

As his palm drew circles around your clothed but now wet area, your phone buzzed with a notification, pulling you out of the trance.

You twitched your eyes in an attempt to read the notification but Ethan soon grabbed it and turned it off.

"Hey! What's that about now"? You inadvertently raised your voice at his sudden move.

"I hate to repeat myself but I believe I told you this before. My house, my rules"

And with that, he left you all on your own, shackled to the bed as he walked out of the room with your phone in his hand.

#heeseung #smut #enhypen #enhypen smut #kpop smut #lee heeseung #angst #enhypen angst #heeseung smut #lhs

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thezombieprostitute · 3 months

Text

Sparks fly - Part 2

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

After Huffman left you hugged Mace again, much tighter this time. You'd been hiding how scared and angry you were from Huffman but Mace was a familiar, trustworthy face. He hugged you back and you cried out your frustrations from the past week. Mace didn't say anything the entire time and you appreciated that.

When you felt a little better you gently pull yourself away and ask, "so how is this place different from the last three? Other than a familiar face. Why is this place deemed safer?"

"Because it's not an on-the-books safehouse," he starts. "That means any moles on the force won't know about it. And, because we know who to talk to and whose palms to grease, we can install security measures way more potent than the legitimate safehouses get away with."

"This... This isn't legal?" Your eyes widen as your voice lowers to a whisper, "Mace, what kind of people are you involved with?"

“Good people,” he assures. “People who look out for their communities first and foremost. People who take protection seriously.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I know it’s been a while, but I’ll trust you about the people.” You hesitate before asking, “can I see some of the security measures? For my own peace of mind?”

“Of course,” he confirmed. “Let’s start with the basics.” He takes you on a tour of the apartment, detailing all of the security measures. Bulletproof windows, motion sensors that turn on the lights when the front door is opened, even a solid steel headboard on the bed to protect from possible shots through the walls. It definitely felt safer than the last few places you were in.

Mace was talking you through the setup when your stomach made an audible growl. Heat rushed to your face in mortification but Mace definitely heard it and asked when you had last eaten.

“I…I think it was this morning? Maybe a granola bar?”

“Well that won’t do,” he says as he heads into the kitchen. “I wasn’t able to fully stock the place given the time, but I definitely got enough to cook us up some dinner.”

“Since when can you cook,” you giggle. “Last time I saw you in a kitchen you were burning the instant ramen in the microwave!”

“I’ve changed a lot since high school,” he bantered. “I’ve picked up lots of skills since you last saw me.”

“Also a sense of style,” you tease. “I forgot to mention that I like the haircut. Buzzcut definitely suits you better than that mop you had back then.”

He laughs at that as he starts cooking. You’re so glad he agreed to stay. You haven’t felt this calm in days. Well, you haven’t felt this safe in days; you haven’t felt this relaxed in years. The two of you chat as he cooks up some grilled cheeses, making sure to cut yours diagonally.

“You remembered,” you exclaim.

“Kinda hard to forget your comfort foods when they’re also my comfort foods.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like yours cut diagonally, heathen.”

He smiles, “it’s because you always made such a big deal about me not cutting my sandwiches that I remember.”

You eat the grilled cheese faster than you intend, finally realizing how hungry you are. You want to ask for another but he still hasn’t finished his so you wait. He sees you eyeing his sandwich, smiles, and heads back into the kitchen, cooking up another for you while eating his own. “Thanks AC,” you whisper.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about being hungry, DC,” he gently chides.

“I know,” you concede. “I’ve gotten better about putting my needs first but…”

“It’s easy to fall back on old habits? Especially when you’ve been put through the wringer in terms of stress? Especially when you’ve been in survival mode for at least a week?”

You smile, “thank you for understanding.” He smiles as nods as he monitors his cooking. “Some days I really do miss having you to help me against bullies. Or other people who wanted me to do their homework for them. Having you around probably would’ve kept me from getting involved in all of this.”

“How so?”

“Helping everyone with their work let me see connections they couldn’t. I was able to pick up on a bunch of irregularities because I was doing second checking for other departments. Daryl from Chemical Engineering R&D needed me to take on some of his work so he could flirt with Jo from Accounting. Elaine from Bio-engineering asked me to help her with some equations so she could leave work early. Just, all these people from all of these different branches and that’s how I noticed things I probably shouldn’t have.”

“All because you wanted to be helpful, because you’re a good, nice person,” Mace comments as he hands you another sandwich, sliced diagonally. You nod your head as you start eating. “Might sound strange, but I’m glad.” You tilt your head in confusion. “I’m glad you’re still a good person. That you still want to be a good person. It can be incredibly tough to do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mace’s phone buzzing. He reads the text message and you can’t read the expression on his face.

“Backup has been found,” he tells you. “The guy’s methods are…a little off but he’s one of the best.”

“Will I be meeting him?”

“No, thankfully. GBH likes to keep as low a profile as he can while he’s working.”

“GBH?”

Mace sighs, “he…he calls himself God the Bounty Hunter.” Your eyes widen with shock. “I know, I know. Like I said, he’s weird but dammit if he isn’t great at protection. If they got someone that I didn’t think could keep you safe I’d argue for someone else.” His blue green eyes look deep into yours, “please trust me, DC?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Now, we should probably get you some sleep. The bed is yours. Feel free to keep on whatever lights you want or need to help you sleep. If you need a fan or a white noise machine, I can get that set up for you.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“I’ll be pushing that living room chair in front of the door. Make sure no one can open it and no one can try to open it without alerting me.”

“Mace! There’s no way you’re sleeping like that!”

“I’ve slept in worse scenarios, DC. Besides, I personally test all the chairs and couches in the safehouses so I know damn well how comfortable it is.”

“But…”

“No arguments. You’re tired. You’ve had a very long and very dangerous week. We’ve got backup watching over this apartment and I know I’ll sleep easier knowing I’m between you and the door.” He gently pushes you towards the bedroom, “so please let yourself get some sleep. If you need me, I’ll be right here. Don’t be afraid to wake me up for anything, okay?”

“Thank you,” you hummed. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tagging:

@rebekahdawkins

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#mafia!james mace #mob!james mace #james mace x reader #mace x reader #mafia au #mafia!mace #mob!mace

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fallen-in-dreams · 1 month

Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

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

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

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

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

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

.:.

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

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

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

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

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

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

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

And now her.

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

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

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

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

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

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

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

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

“Go get that date organised.”

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

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

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

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

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

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

“Temari.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.:.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

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

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

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

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

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

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

Shit.

.:.

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

Good.

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

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe I’m overreacting.

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

I can’t do anything right, with her.

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

Why?

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

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

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

.:.

When will I ever learn?

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

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

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

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

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

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

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

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

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

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

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

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

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

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

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

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

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

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

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

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

And this time I’ll run.

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

I really need a better hiding place.

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

They’re finally back.

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

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

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

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

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

Do I do this now?

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

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

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

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

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

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

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

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

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

He knocked again.

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

What is he doing to me?

.:.

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

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

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

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

And embarrassing.

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

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desperately.

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

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

Because it’s hot as fuck.

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

But how am I supposed to get that?

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

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“For everything,” he said.

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

Sakura sighed.

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

“It’s not your fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has to be him,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know–”

“I just…”

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

Does he think of that night often, too?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

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

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

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

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

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

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

Only one way to find out.

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

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

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

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

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

Was that a smirk?

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

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

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

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

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

Enough of the doom and gloom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

#GaaSaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction #A Beautiful Lie

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punchdrunkdoc · 10 months

Text

Part 2, Chapter 20

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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This one is NSFW folks!

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PART 2

Chapter 20

Halfway through updating Calina on the pheromone case, Matt realised she’d fallen asleep. She was still tucked against him as they lay on their sides, their legs entwined. Matt had been playing with the fingers of her hand while they filled each other in on the last three weeks, but now that hand was limp, and Calina’s deep, even breaths stirred the air around him.

He smiled indulgently and kissed the top of her head, glad that she was able to get some rest. After stifling a yawn earlier, she’d admitted that she hadn’t been sleeping well without him. “I was wide awake again at 5am this morning,” she’d explained. “Then there was the four-hour ride to get here…it’s all catching up with me.”

“Four hours, huh?” It was the only clue she’d ever let slip about the location of the new Widow’s base. Although it didn’t exactly narrow things down. “Would that be four hours north, south or west of here?” he asked.

“Why? Are you planning to track me down and show up under my window with a boom box over your head?”

“What?”

“Oh, its from a romantic comedy we all watched recently. It came out in the eighties so I thought you might have seen it before your accident.”

“Sweetheart, the only movies I was watching as a kid involved either Bruce Lee or spaceships.”

“So no rom-coms, then.”

“No. Although I’d watch one with you now - you could tell me what’s happening on screen. I’ve missed hearing you describe the world to me.”

“I’ve missed that too. I’ve missed talking with you, and reading to you, and being here in this apartment, just the two of us.”

“Me too. It’s not the same here now, without you. I’ve been avoiding the place, to be honest - I’ve spent most of my time either out as Daredevil or in the office working on the pheromone case.”

“How’s that going?” Calina asked, trying to suppress another yawn.

Matt should have known she wouldn’t be able to stay awake while he talked through their progress - or rather, their lack of progress - in tracking down the people behind the pheromone drug. It wasn’t exactly the most scintillating conversation topic for 3am.

Matt eased out of bed, careful not to wake Calina, and toed off his heavy boots. He gazed at her still, peaceful figure as he unzipped his suit jacket and shrugged out of his pants. He was looking forward to getting some sleep next to her - she wasn’t the only one who’d been struggling with insomnia again - but a small part of him was disappointed that all they’d be doing is sleeping. That kiss earlier had started to heat up just before Calina’s tears had gotten the better of her. It had made him hopeful for a replay of what had happened the last time they were in this bed together.

Or even something more.

But he never wanted to pressure her. He would take his cues from her and go at her pace, no matter how slow that might be.

They’d never really spoken in depth about her missions when she was a Widow. But the hints that she’d dropped over the past few months suggested that she’d been intimate with her targets - all while her will and choices had been subjugated by the mind control serum.

He could only imagine what that kind of violation would do to a person. And he didn’t want to do anything that might remind her of that time.

The last time they were together, he hadn’t been thinking clearly about that aspect of her past. He’d been too vulnerable, too caught up in his own fears. He’d latched on to her in the midst of the terror and uncertainty of his deafness, and he’d rushed them into an intimacy she might not have been ready for.

He knew she’d enjoyed it at the time. But he’d had a lot of time to reflect and consider things over the past few weeks, and he was determined that the next time she would be in the driver’s seat. Whenever and wherever - and even if - they ever took things to the next level, it would be her decision.

He could wait. And in the meantime, he’d be happy just being able to hold her and kiss her and be with her.

Now dressed in just a pair of sweats, Matt crawled back into bed and did just that. He gathered Calina in his arms, dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and smiled as she burrowed against his warmth.

This was enough.

He didn’t need any more than this.

———

Calina needed more.

As much as she enjoyed waking up in Matt’s arms feeling rested and refreshed…she needed more. She wanted more than just to sleep next to him.

She’d spent the last three weeks wishing she’d made love to Matt the last time they’d been together. Denying herself that intimacy hadn’t made their separation any easier. If anything, the regret had made it harder.

She was determined this time would be different. She wanted to be with him in that way. She wanted them to take that next step.

She just wasn’t sure…how to go about it.

She was feeling distinctly nervous.

She bit her lip as her eyes drifted over Matt’s face, taking in his peaceful expression. The frown lines on his forehead had smoothed out, and his full lips were soft and parted. His cheeks were flushed with sleep, and the warmth of the covers they shared. The morning sunlight spilling into the room brought out the reddish tone of his dark hair and highlighted his ridiculously long eyelashes.

He was beautiful.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and pull him on top of her. She wanted them naked, skin-to-skin, with nothing left between them. She wanted to explore every inch of his body and feel him moving inside her.

But her shyness had returned with a vengeance. She couldn’t seem to lift her hand to touch him. She couldn’t bridge the distance between them to kiss him. All the seduction tricks she’d employed over the years as a Widow felt dirty and out of place in this bed.

But that was all she knew how to do - use people. Entice and entrap and manipulate.

She didn’t know how to be with someone she loved.

In a very real sense, this would be her first time. And like a naive, virginal teenager she wanted it to be perfect. Special. She wanted this encounter to erase every other one she’d ever had. She wanted it to make her clean and pure again.

Which…was a lot of pressure. For both her, and the oblivious, sleeping man beside her.

Poor Matt. It wasn’t fair to put this on him. It wasn’t his responsibility to ‘heal’ her and make her whole. It wasn’t-

“What deep thoughts are you thinking?”

The low rumble made Calina jerk in surprise. Her eyes flew to Matt’s but his were still closed. His face was still relaxed and he hadn’t moved a muscle…but there was now a slight curve to his lips. His tongue darted out to wet them before he spoke again, his voice deep and husky. “It’s Christmas morning and we’ve had at least six hours of sleep - you’re supposed to be happy and relaxed, not tense and stressed out.”

“You caught that, huh?”

He tapped the tip of his nose. “Kinda hard to miss when I’m this close to you.”

“Sorry.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Don’t be sorry. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

———

“Nothing.”

Matt had never heard a more dishonest word in his life. Either he was getting better at detecting Calina’s lies, or she wasn’t trying very hard to hide the truth this morning.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and gave it a gentle tug in rebuke. “Calina…”

She sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Not nothing. Just…I’m overanalysing the situation, as usual. And I got in my head about it.”

“Well that’s not vague at all.”

She laughed this time, and the sharp taste of cortisol in the air faded away, proof that she was feeling better. He smiled at her and continued to stroke his fingers through her hair. “Hey…”

“What?”

“Merry Christmas.”

She smiled. “Merry Christmas to you.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, loving the feel of her smile beneath his lips. He meant it as a simple gesture of ‘hello’ but, as it did every time they touched, the gravity of her pulled him in. The kiss deepened as he gathered her closer with a hand on her back. One of her legs slipped between his, and her thigh brushed against his morning erection.

She went still.

Worried that he was moving too fast, he angled his hips back and away from her. “Sorry,” he mumbled into her mouth.

“No!” she cried.

Matt jolted in surprise. “Calina?”

She ducked her head and buried it against his chest, and he could sense the heat rising from her cheeks, as if she was embarrassed.

But why would she be embarrassed?

“Calina? What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just…I want…” He heard her clench her jaw in frustration before letting out an annoyed, “UGH!”

He stifled his laughter. He didn’t want to make light of her obvious struggles, but her irritation with herself was kind of cute. He stroked his hand over her hair. “Talk to me. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Calina took a deep breath. “Iwanttohavesexwithyou.”

Matt frowned as he tried to interpret the rush of words. And when he finally did, his heart started pounding. The thumping beats reverberated in his chest, and he felt the echo in his cock as the blood rushed through the rapidly hardening organ.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

In answer, Calina leaned up and kissed him. And there was nothing embarrassed or shy in it. She pressed her lips against his firmly, and her tongue swept into his mouth with passion and confidence. It was as if finally voicing her desires had unlocked them, allowing them to run free.

Matt responded instantly. He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers gripping her hair, as he returned the kiss. His tongue warred with hers. He bit at her lower lip, and sucked it into his mouth. Then he attacked her neck, licking and nibbling and scraping the delicate skin with his teeth.

He tried to slow down. To gentle his approach. But it was as if his own hunger had been ignited by the force of hers.

And she met him step for step. Her fingers raked through his hair, tugging on the strands and sending sparks of pleasure through his nerve endings. She dragged her nails down his bare back. She hooked her leg over his hip and used it to pull him on top of her.

He went willingly, settling into the cradle of her thighs with his cock pressed against her core. Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing him closer as she rocked her pelvis against his. He moaned at the friction, and felt her lips against his neck curve in satisfaction.

Helpless to resist, he thrust against her. Her breath hitched in response, and it was his turn to smile. They started moving, their lower bodies working in tandem to bring them both to the edge as they panted and moaned against each other’s skin.

But Matt forced himself to stop. He didn’t just want a repeat of last time. He wanted more.

And he knew Calina did too, despite her groan of protest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, lifting himself up onto his knees. “I want to feel you against me. All of you.”

———

Calina tried to calm her racing heart as Matt pulled her up off the pillow until she was sitting in front of him, her legs between his spread thighs. She’d gotten carried away by all the sensation - the weight of his strong body, his hard length rocking against her, the delicious things he was doing with his lips and tongue…

But she was glad he’d stopped when he had. She wanted them to take their time. She wanted to savour this, and remember every moment of it.

And she wanted what he wanted - the feel of naked skin on naked skin.

She lifted her arms as he slipped her t-shirt over her head. He threw the top onto the floor then his hands returned to her body. He glided his fingers over the material of her bra, and she cursed herself for wearing plain cotton lingerie today of all days. But she’d left Maine in a hurry and had figured that, without his sight, Matt wouldn’t care about sexy underwear.

But she should have taken his sense of touch into account. Next time, she’d chose something more stimulating for him - satin or lace, or something with complicated straps…

“You good?” Matt asked, his voice soft and gentle. His hands had paused at the closure of her bra, and he must have been wondering why her attention had drifted.

She decided to tell him the truth. She didn’t want him to think she was anything but 100% invested in this. “I was, um, regretting my choice of bra.”

He chuckled, as his clever fingers unhooked her strap. “Don’t. I’m much more interested in what’s underneath.” As if to prove his point, he quickly removed the garment and tossed it aside.

But he didn’t touch her exposed skin. Instead, he took her face between his hands and kissed her. A gentle, careful kiss. The sweetness of it, the reverence she could feel, brought a tear to her eye. Matt kissed away the moisture and lay her back on the pillow. Then he scooted down the bed and brought his hands to the top of her sweats.

He looked up at her, and she could read the question on his face - Is this okay?

His constant checking for consent made her fall in love with him even more. She didn’t know if he was always this solicitous in bed, or he was accommodating her…unique…history, but either way it made her feel so cherished. And the control he was handing over to her - the ability to stop this whole encounter with a word - was a potent aphrodisiac.

This was already better than every other experience she’d ever had, and they both still had their pants on.

She wanted that rectified. Now.

So in answer to his question, she lifted her hips. He grinned and hooked his fingers in the waistband and slowly, slowly dragged the material down her legs. The same silent check and consent played out with her underwear, until they were a scrap on the floor and she was naked beneath him.

And that’s when he finally touched her.

At first, it was a barely-there glide of his fingers over her skin, the soft strokes leaving a trail of shivers behind. Then his hands spread out and he ran them all over her body, as if mapping the shape of her. The curve of her breasts, the hard peaks of her nipples, the flare of her waist and the sensitive spot behind her knees…no inch was left untouched.

Except the throbbing spot between her legs.

The ache in her core deepened with every caress of his hands, until it started to overwhelm her senses. Calina clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the growing pressure.

But Matt caught the movement. With a chiding “Uh-uh,” he grabbed her thighs and spread them apart, intensifying the desperate emptiness inside her. He repositioned himself between her legs and leaned over her to kiss her neck.

Calina tipped her head back on a reflex, while her lower body writhed against the hard mass of his body, searching in vain for some relief. “Please,” she begged, twisting the bedsheets at her sides.

“Just a little while longer, I promise,” Matt replied. “I need to taste you first.”

Calina gasped at the imagery of Matt’s clever, agile tongue following the path of his hands…then moaned as it became a reality. He teased and tortured her for what seemed like hours, slowly dragging his mouth over and along the length of her body. He kissed a path down her chest and painted her nipples with liquid heat. He nibbled at her hip bone, and pressed gentle kisses to the fluttering skin of her belly.

Then his mouth dipped lower…

The first stroke of his tongue against her clit shot through her like a firework. Her back arched off the bed and her strangled groan filled the room. She didn’t care how shameless she sounded. She didn’t care that a constant stream of pleading words were flowing from her lips…all she cared about was the mouth between her legs.

Matt licked and sucked at the moisture now bathing her upper thighs. He let out his own moan and the hands holding her hips in place dug into her soft flesh. “God, you taste amazing,” he rumbled. He stabbed his tongue into her opening, and the merest hint of being filled shot Calina’s desire into the stratosphere. Her whole body tightened. She could feel her toes curl and her hold on the bedsheets became a death-grip as the need inside her built and built until it was almost painful.

Then Matt wrapped his lips around her clit and it was all over.

She came with a half-sob, half-cry and collapsed back onto the mattress. Aftershocks pinged through her body as Matt continued to nuzzle against her, his mouth gentler now as he guided her back down to earth.

She let out a shuddering breath and flung her arm over her eyes, overcome by the intensity of what she’d just experienced.

“You okay?” Matt asked as he moved up the bed to rest beside her.

Calina laughed at the absurdity of his question. She’d never be okay again.

She turned to burrow against his warmth. “Yes. Thank you,” she whispered.

He slung an arm around her. “Believe me, it was my pleasure,” he laughed.

But the sound of it was slightly stilted, and there was a hitch in his breath. She felt a tension in his body as he held her close and she realised he was still…unsatisfied.

She wanted him to feel what she did. She wanted to give him the same explosive pleasure. She pushed him onto his back and reached up to kiss him, loving the exotic taste of herself on his tongue. She gripped his hair with one hand, and used the other to tilt his jaw where she wanted it.

She made it clear with her touch that it was her turn now.

Matt seemed more than happy to relinquish the lead. He let her direct the kiss, and when her lips moved down to his neck, he tilted his head back to give her more access. When her hands moved to the waistband of his sweats, he followed her move from before and lifted his hips from the bed to help her along.

She eased the bands of his pants and boxers over the steel length of his erection then quickly discarded his clothing until he was bare before her.

She gazed at his body, and licked her lips. She wanted to run her hands and lips all over him, the same way he’d done to her. But first she just stared, enjoying the sight of him laid out like a greek God in repose.

The strong winter sunshine flooding the room illuminated him in all his glory. The light bathed him, touching upon every contour of muscle and glinting off the pearlescent lines of his scars.

He was so beautiful.

She placed her hand on his neck, just over the notch of his collarbone and dragged it down the centre of his chest, down his ridged abdomen, down until her wrist just nudged against his hard cock. The friction drew a low masculine noise from deep in his throat and the sound went directly to her core, causing it to pulse in response.

She repeated the glide of her hand, then set about mapping his body the way he’d done to her, charting the terrain of his muscles with her fingers and her lips, and teasing him they way he’d teased her.

After long, long minutes of torture, she finally reached his cock. She paused over him, letting him feel her panting breaths against the sensitive tip. Every inch of Matt was still, every muscle taut, as he waited for her next move.

He jerked in surprise when she suddenly took the head in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it, loving the sounds he made in response - hungry male sounds that made her feel sexy and powerful.

But just as she dipped her head to take more of his length, he wrenched her off him and flipped her onto her back. She started to protest, “I wanted to-,” but he cut her off.

“I know. Next time. Later. I gotta be inside you.” His accent was rougher, his voice raspy with desire as he crawled over her. “Condom. In the drawer-”

He made a move towards the bedside cabinet next to her, but she stopped him and shook her head.“We don’t need that.”

“Sure?”

She was clean - endless testing in the Red Room confirmed that - and she knew he was too, due to some very intrusive hacking by Anya. And birth control was…not a concern. Not wanting to get into all that, she just nodded. “Sure.”

He nodded in return, then settled himself over her and kissed her.

Although calling it a kiss was like calling a hurricane a light breeze.

He devoured her. His mouth moved over hers with an urgent need as his heavy weight trapped her in place. He grasped her neck, the large hand spanning her throat as he held her in place.

There was no softness to him now. No gentleness. Just dangerous, hard strength.

But she’d never felt safer.

She yielded to him. Relaxed beneath him and spread her legs to allow him closer. And to give him that last bit of wordless consent.

She felt the blunt end of his cock line up with her opening, and then he entered her. The sharp thrust surprised a gasp from her. The sound seemed to penetrate the haze of his lust, and he paused, the thick length of him buried deep within her. “Calina?”

She hitched her legs higher on his waist and adjusted to the feel of him inside her. “I’m good. I’m good.”

To prove just how good she was feeling, she squeezed around his girth. He moaned, and she smiled at the sound.

“Not fair,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “I’m so close.”

She smoothed his hair back from his face and spread her hands over his shoulders. She could feel the tension in his frame as he tried to hold back.

But she didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted him to go wild.

“Let go, Matt. Just let go,” she whispered, clenching around him one more time.

Her permission was all he needed. He pulled back his hips then snapped them forward again. She absorbed the impact with a moan, then moved with him as he established a frantic rhythm. His unfocussed eyes burned with intense need as he thrust into her. She kept up her caresses, running her hands over his back, his arms, his stubbled cheeks. Her fingers strayed close to his lips and he turned his head to press a kiss to them, a hint of tenderness in the midst of his fierce, untamed ascent towards release.

The sight of him, the feel of him, the enormity of what they were experiencing, reignited Calina’s own lust. She felt the familiar insistent ache in her clit and slipped a hand between them to help it along. Matt realised her plan and beat her to it. His rough fingers rubbed against her, as he thrust and thrust. Within moments she went over the edge, so sensitive due to her earlier orgasm.

Matt followed her with a guttural moan then collapsed on top of her.

She took his weight gladly, and couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face.

She’d made love to Matt.

Finally.

And it was amazing. Everything she could have hoped for and more.

She glided her hands down his back, feeling the slight tremors beneath his warm skin as he recovered. He levered himself up onto one forearm and smoothed the hair off her face, then pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she whispered back.

He pressed another kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

Her smile widened. “I love you too.”

Matt rolled onto his back and pulled her with him until she was sprawled across his chest. And that’s when the sounds of the outside world started to penetrate their cocoon. She could hear cars in the streets and the faint laughter of children no doubt playing with new Christmas presents on the sidewalks.

But she tried to zone them out. She didn’t want the real world today. She didn’t want time to pass.

She just wanted to stay in this moment, with Matt…forever.

————–

Chapter 21

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @yanna-banana @chezagnes @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

#Daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fandom #marvel's daredevil #daredevil x original female character #Matt Murdock #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x oc #tabula rasa

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monbebe26-monstax · 2 years

Text

A Very Cute Neighbor (Part 5)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

After a tough day at work you were ready to be home. Your dream of the bakery plaguing your mind more often lately. You used to enjoy your job and thought about the bakery as an escape, but not anymore. It was a need growing deep inside of you to own your own business one day and make a career out of your passion. You sighed, pressing the call button for the elevator. The desire for a hot bubble bath rising to the surface as you groan, tipping your head back to stretch your neck.

“Rough day?”

You snap you head up to see Shownu looking at you. He had a knowing smile on his face. His backpack slung over his shoulder, but his normal professional attire had been traded for a pair of joggers and a loose shirt.

It had been almost a week of not seeing him and you had caught yourself thinking about him more often these last few days. Especially since the dream you had that kept coming back. It was a pleasant dream, but it was also a wet dream. And seeing him now in a pair of gray joggers and a thin white t-shirt was too alluring.

“Yes. What about you? Where’s your suit?” You blush at being so forward after you scrabble from gawking at him.

He shrugs. “I work out sometimes.”

“Okay,” you nod turning back as the elevator dings and the doors open.

You both step inside of it and he pushes the button for your floor. The doors close and you have to look at the floor. The reflection of him next to you sparked something inside of you. It felt out of the blue, but at the same time it didn’t.

“What happened?” He asks after a moment, his voice thicker. His gaze was glued to your reflection, hand tightening on his backpack strap.

“I hate my job,” you say softly. “I used to love it, but I have this crazy idea about owning my own business-.”

“What kind?” He asks, cutting you off. Interesting reflecting in his tone.

You lift your gaze to his and immediately look away. Something in those dark depths of his eyes stirred even more. You needed the elevator to open and soon.

“A bakery.” You answer, your breathe coming out quickly.

“I like cake.” He responds, his tone shifting and your eyes flash to his. He steps closer and you inhale. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you didn’t.

The doors opened to your floor and you exhaled stepping off quickly. What was going on with you? Yes, he was attractive and smart, but you never acted like this. And maybe it had been a while since you had felt another’s touch, but that didn’t give you permission to get so flustered from a simple elevator ride.

“I was thinking about cooking tonight. Would you join me this time?” He asks pulling you out of your thoughts at your front door.

You look at him in surprise. “Sure.”

He smiles taking a step back. “See you in an hour.”

….

A hot soak with peaceful quiet and a fresh set of comfy clothes later you were knocking on his door and he answered with a glass of wine ready to go. You take it as he ushers you in while you drop your phone and keys on the counter. His hand brushes your back as he passes you to go back into the kitchen.

“Here you go,” he says pulling a stool out for you. His gaze dragging over you from the tips of your toes to your head. A warm blush blooms on your cheeks as you move forward. “You look comfy now.”

“Very,” you respond, taking the seat as your hands brush down your t-shirt and leggings. He steps back, returning to the stove.

You begin to admire his apartment. It was clean and had tasteful decorative pieces. It was him down to the little pieces that tied it all together, it had a strangely perfect balance to it. You turn back to him and he is watching you with an amused expression.

“Did you decorate your apartment?” You ask taking a much needed sip of wine.

“No, my mother did. She owns an interior decorating firm.” He is back behind the counter, chopping. “Is it that obvious?”

“No.”

He laughs a little at your lie before putting everything in a saucepan. You look down at the butcher block counter top and trace the pattern in the grain of the wood. It was nice to distract yourself from him. His essence surrounding you flooded your senses and was distracting.

“How long have you worked at your job?” He asks pulling you back to the present conversation.

You look up again. “Six years. I started right after college. My parents were thrilled.”

He moves closer to refill your wine glass. You hadn’t even realized you had finished the first.

“Careful, you’ll get me tipsy.” You murmur and he quirks an eyebrow. He had seen you drink a lot more at Louis and Daphne’s and you had been fine. You clear your throat. “I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“You should take better care of yourself,” he reprimands, his tone shifting to a more authoritative tone. “Make sure you eat.”

It surprised you as you took a sip and set the glass down.

He clears his throat, his tone shifting back to normal, “do your parents know you hate your job?”

“Umm… they passed away,” you say gently and he pauses. His gaze lifting to yours. “Car accident almost three and a half years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “You didn’t cause it.”

He nods, stirring his ingredients as they sizzle and the aroma begins to fill the room, he moves around the counter offering you a sample out of another pot. You take it and smile at him.

“That is amazing! I thought you didn’t know a lot about cooking?”

“I asked my mother to show me a few things,” he confesses and you see a slight blush color his cheeks. “I wanted to be able to host once.”

“That’s so sweet of you Shownu. I will let Daphne and Louis know and I’m sure they would not mind, I know I don’t if it tastes this amazing.”

He laughs admiring you long enough that it makes you blush.

(Part 6)

#monsta x fic #monsta x #shownu #shownu fic #shownu one shot #shownu fancfic #shownu fluff #monsta x one shot #monsta x fluff #monsta x shownu #shownu monsta x

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3pirouette · 2 years

Text

Fic: The Captain and the Missus (2/?)

Title: The Captain and The Missus

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: AU of CA:TFA

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Instead of wanting to recreate the serum, Schmidt wants every trace of it wiped from existence so he can be the sole one to benefit from it. This means that Steve’s life is in danger, and Peggy’s new job is to keep him alive as he travels in hiding with the USO tour.

Story A/N: AU of CA: TFA, based on @roboticonography’s idea of having Peggy go on tour with Steve as “Mrs. America” This will satisfy both Steggy Week Day 1: Favorite Era (I love writing them in the 40’s even though I have to do massive amounts of research) and my Steggy Bingo Bash category “Slow Burn.”

(Robot’s post HERE)

Hold on to your butts. I feel like this might take a while.

Chapter 2: Planning and Packing

READ PROLOGUE/CH 1 HERE

Chapter Summary: Peggy tries to figure out how they're going to move forward as they get ready to leave the base as man and wife.

A/N: So, apparently, it’s been a year? There’s about 17k of this story and it’s barely started. I love it and it will get finished, it’s just going to take a while. Not sure if I’ll continue to post as a WIP or if I’ll wait until it’s eventually finished. Slow Burn INDEED. Please enjoy this next chapter.

Here it is, chapter 2 for Steggy Week ’22 Day 2: Favorite Era

~*~

Peggy spent the next day with her own contingent of privates that followed her around base, packing two very large, very non-descript looking trunks while Howard had Steve for one last day of testing. Good to her word, she packed everything they might need and more from the base. Keeping busy kept her mind from racing.

She was now officially married, like it or not, to the man she was having outrageously inappropriate feelings for given their current situation. She’d spent a sleepless night last night staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the things that could go wrong and all the things that could go right, neither of which brought her much peace.

Thinking of his lips kissing hers, of his arms wrapped around her, led to thoughts of her holding him, bleeding, after a sniper caught him on stage. Thoughts of them holding hands, taking long, slow walks along the waterfront led to thoughts of his hand reaching for hers as Hydra agents pulled them apart. Fantasies of what it would be like to feel him on top of her, her legs wrapped around his hips, dissolved into scenes of them being overwhelmed by Hydra forces, the two of them fighting until their deaths.

Needless to say, she hadn’t slept.

The bouncing back and forth of her emotions, from soft and happy and fantasizing to dark and scary and reliving the trauma of his blood literally pouring through her fingers, gave her quite the sense of whiplash as she moved through the halls. Having a task to focus on was her only saving grace as she led the privates from armory to storage and back again, checking items off her list as they went: firearms of all sizes, ammunition, spy cameras, bugs, decrypting machines, radios, and more. She filled the trunks efficiently, only starting to feel the anxiety creep in again as the trunks were filled and locked and sent on their way with the soldiers.

Peggy set her shoulders back, walking to Stark’s lab, her mind running through the list she’d completed just one more time. She couldn’t think of a single thing more they might need, but that didn’t mean needs wouldn’t arise in the field, that things couldn’t change on a dime still, and it didn’t escape her notice that instead of the rush of adrenaline she usually got with the thrill of an upcoming mission, she only felt cold fingers of fear wrapping around her spine.

She tried to shake it off with a deep breath as she pushed open the door to Stark’s lab, setting a smile on her face.

“Agent Carter! Perfect timing!” Howard looked up at her, giddy as a school boy. She guessed it was whatever he and Steve had been discussing, as Steve looked quite happy, as well.

She didn’t dare imagine that it was her arrival that put that smile on his face.

“Yes, well, I do tend to keep my appointments.” She stepped up to Steve’s side, giving him her own smile. “Rogers.”

Howard laughed and turned away from the table, sticking his arms into a closet and coming back out with a large box stacked on top of a smaller one. “Better start picking pet names, kids. No one’s gonna believe you’re married if you’re calling him Rogers.”

“Ah, yes, sorry,” she rolled her eyes at him, and caught Steve hiding his own smile. “Hello, cupcake.”

Steve did laugh at that as Howard dropped the boxes he’d been holding in his arms on the table. He set his hands on his hips and shook his head at her. “No. That’s just doesn’t sound right coming from you.”

“What? Calling Steve ‘cupcake’?” Peggy allowed herself the moment of levity, and even felt a warmth flood through her at Steve’s smile in her direction.

He shrugged, his neck just a little red. “I mean, it’s not the worst thing I’ve been called.”

Howard’s expression soured. “Look, it’s fun and games now, but I’m serious. You two are going to be out there, all alone, with only each other. We don’t know how far Hydra is willing to go on this, and how well you sell this cover is going to determine how much danger you’re in.”

Peggy sighed. She just couldn’t manage to get away from the truth of it, and the heaviness of his words settled deep in her stomach. “Howard, believe me, I know.” She looked between them both, unsettled that Steve seemed unsure and chastised at Stark’s words. “When the time comes, you’ll believe us.” She moved closer to Steve, leaning into his side and wrapping her arm around his waist. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Won’t they, darling?”

She wasn’t sure why she chose that endearment, but it felt right in that moment. It felt easy and natural, slipping from her lips as he looked down at her.

She felt him tense for just a moment before he relaxed, his eyes saying that he trusted her more than anything. “Absolutey, dearest.”

Peggy didn’t realize they’d been staring at each other until Howard cleared his throat. She pulled away from Steve slowly, like she was being pulled from a trance.

“Ok, maybe I’m wrong about that,” Howard mumbled, his eyebrows raising and falling, “but I’m not wrong about you two needing a little something extra out in the field. Ta-da!” He pulled the top off the top box and displayed what appeared to be an elaborate red, white, and blue costume in the style of a tactical suit.

“That’s… something.” Steve tried to hold back his disbelief.

Peggy did no such thing. “Howard, you did everything but paint a target on it!” Peggy pointed at the red and white striped mid-section.

“It’s a costume. I asked Brant’s guy to get me what his costume was going to look like. It’s reinforced, just like you’d get out in the field.” Howard pulled it out and showed them how thick it was. “Might be a little warm under the lights, but a knife ain’t getting through, it’ll stop most corrosives, and I reinforced across the chest with a metal plate, so it’ll stop at least a chest shot from a bullet.” He shrugged, handing Steve the top. “Putting that all over would be too heavy, for sure, but we know most of the Hydra guys are trained for the shot to the heart, so…”

Steve ran his hands over it, then shoved his arm through a sleeve. “And this is what Brandt wants me to wear?”

“It’s what some yokel costume designer wants you to wear.” Howard pulled out the pants and thick red boots. “I made some modifications. Tights were originally involved.”

Peggy fought hard to hold back her laugh at Steve’s face when Howard mentioned tights, and instead focused on the helmet in the box. “And that?”

Howard lifted it and juggled it in his hands for a second before he punched it, trying to prove its invincibility. “Enough to stop a headshot from a few meters away, but not point-blank range.”

“If someone’s made it to point blank range then we’re already in big trouble,” Peggy mumbled, pulling it from his hands. “Lightweight. Surprisingly. What’s the ‘A’ for?”

“America, naturally!” Howards false bravado fell flat. “I’m telling you, whoever designed this costume was out of his mind. They wanted a little fabric hood with wings on the side. Wings!”

Steve took the helmet from Peggy and set it on his head, moving around to see how it felt. “Well, this is a considerable upgrade from that. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Howard pushed the box forward, letting Steve slide his costume back in.

“So, what’s in the smaller box?” Steve asked, folding the top of his costume.

Howard didn’t say anything, but slid the box over in front of Peggy. She was nervous, knowing she’d have a costume and a role of her own to play. She wasn’t sure how much of that miracle reinforced fabric he could get in such a thin box, but she’d be grateful for anything she could get. She lifted the lid, peering in, and then gently put the lid to the side as what it was dawned on her. With two fingers, and a lot of annoyance, she pulled the black slip from the box. “Howard, is this women’s underwear?”

Steve coughed and looked away out of embarrassment, and Howard held his hands up. “I can explain.”

Peggy set the slip down and dug through the other pieces in there, lips pressed tight. “Please do.”

“You’ve got a lot more costumes!” Howard shrugged, slowly taking a step back. “I’m no Christian Dior here! They sent me drawings of five different dresses- we don’t have the time or the resources to set you up with five different dresses.”

“So, this is a joke?” Peggy pulled out a black thigh high stocking and waved it in his face? “Hum? Your idea of a joke? Steve gets full body armor and I get lingerie?”

“What?” Howard looked shocked. “You think that of me? No!” Howard rushed forward, pulling out the slip and handing it to her. “Feel that.”

“Rough and thick, not even good quality.” She rolled her eyes, almost completely forgetting Steve was standing next to her, turning a bright shade of red as she argued with Howard. “Least you could do for a newlywed woman is get her something nice!”

Howard huffed. “Jesus, woman, let me explain!” He pulled a pocket knife from his pants and flipped it open. “We’ve been working on this for two years. We had barely enough for a prototype for you, ok?” He took the slip from her and wound it over his hand before plunging the knife at his palm.

Steve and Peggy both jumped, but leaned forward as Howard showed them where the fabric had stopped the knife. “What is that?” Peggy asked, amazed.

“It’s a new fabric we’ve been developing. Inspired by the strength of spider silk and the concept of chainmail.” He pulled the knife away, revealing the unmarred fabric, and then showed his palm, where there was a small mark, but no bruise and no blood. “It’s still in prototype phase, and it won’t stop a bullet, from any distance, but it’ll give you some protection.”

“Why lingerie?” Steve asked, picking up the side of the slip and running his fingers over it.

“What the hell else were we supposed to do? She can’t be your ‘home-front missus’ running around in tactical gear, and they’ve got her changing dresses every five minutes.” He shook his head, looking at Peggy as she pulled the stockings out, examining them. “I know it ain’t much compared to what we were able to do for Steve, but this gives you at least a little protection in a one-on-one situation.”

Peggy softened as she looked through the box. A set of black and a set of nude stockings and matching slips. At the bottom, she dug out a single, white brassiere that was the most boxy, full coverage shape she’d ever seen. “Howard, this is atrocious.”

“I know,” he groused. “It’s an abomination and should never see the light of day, never mind be worn by a beautiful woman such as yourself.” He pulled it from her fingers and pressed against the cup, which didn’t fold as he pushed. “But it was the only way we could give you some body armor. Won’t be comfortable, but it’s the only thing we could make with anything near a chest plate in it… even if it’s a fashion crime.”

Peggy took the brassiere back and held it in her hands, pressing against the molded metal. “Well, then, I do appreciate it, Howard, though I’m not going to ask how you seemed to know my measurements.”

He let a cheeky smile split his face. “I estimated. I’m pretty good at that- lots of experience.” He sobered quickly when she didn’t laugh. “Like I said, best we can do.” He shrugged. “I’m shipping back out with Phillips, but if you guys think of anything else you need, I can get it to you in a few days, or whenever the next transport goes out. However,” Howard held up his pointer fingers and backed away, heading back to the closet, “there’s one more thing.” He came back with a small box this time, and opened it to reveal three rings.

Steve leaned forward, whistling. “Gonna be a hard sell that I could afford that on a soldier’s salary,” he looked at the sparkling diamond that was a size he only ever heard about.

Peggy huffed a laugh. “I’ll barely be able to hold my hand up! Howard, that’s excessive.”

“It needs to stand out, in real life and on stage,” he pulled the diamond engagement ring out and showed her the far edge. “It also had to be big enough for us to cut it right. This edge here will cut through glass and most thin steals. Should be flat enough that when you’re wearing it that it’s not dangerous, but when you take it off,” he turned it at an angle and pressed it to the steel work table, “Forty five to fifty five degree angle and a little bit of pressure,” he pulled it across the table for an inch and smiled when he left a thin gash behind, “and you’ve got a lot of options.”

“Genius!” Peggy pulled it from him, examining the edge and running her finger over it, excited about the possibilities.

“It’s also big enough that if you punch a guy in the eye with it, it should do some damage.” Howard shrugged. “Now, the wedding bands have their own advantages.” He pulled the larger one out and showed them the bevel cut edge. “Looks like a decorative pattern, right?”

“Right…” Steve replied, eyeing it carefully.

“Find the catch at the bottom and… voila!” Howard pulled at the edge and unwound a thin wire from inside the ring, “Hidden garrote wire!”

Steve reached out, plucking it until it vibrated in Howard’s hands. “And that’s for…”

“Strangling, disabling, slicing off fingers… it’s conductive and can be welded if you find yourself in need of some light tampering with electronics.” Howard gave a tiny tug and the wire wound itself back up into the ring, hiding from view. “Also good at cutting bread and cheese.” He pulled at the latch once again, this time just pressing it so it stood out like a needle from the edge of the ring. “Can also be used as a puncture needle. Dip it in poison, knock out drops, or just to annoy your friends.” He snapped it back into place and twirled what now looked like any other ring between his fingers.

“That is impressive,” Peggy mused, reaching out to take her ring from the box. Steve’s hand snatched it away first, though. She looked up at him, but he held out his other hand, waiting for her to put the engagement ring in his palm.

“I think that’s my job, don’t you?” he asked, more confident than she knew he felt based on the sweat on his palm when she placed the ring in.

“Alright then,” she held her left hand out, hoping that her own sudden nervousness didn’t show. “Go ahead, Mr. Rogers.”

He licked his lips, and she could feel his hands shaking just a bit as he took hers, slipping the wedding band on her ring finger, followed by the faux diamond. “There you go, Mrs. Rogers.” He held her hand loosely, getting bolder by the second when she didn’t pull away.

She was only marginally aware of Howard as he held Steve’s ring out to her, taking it in her hand without looking at the scientist, and slipping it on Steve’s finger. “There you go, darling,” she whispered, entranced by his eyes and the feeling of their hands together, the metal of the rings slipping against their skin, not quite warm yet, not quite familiar, but feeling somehow so totally right that she could hardly breathe.

“Oh, no. No. Continue. Just pretend I’m not here,” Howard’s voice broke them apart, pulling their eyes to him where he was sitting on a stool a few feet away, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

Peggy dropped Steve’s hand, but didn’t stop fidgeting with her rings. “Have you anything else for us, Howard?” She forced a strong tone, and thought she managed pretty well.

Howard, however, saw right through her. “Nah. Not for you, anyway. Steve and I have to go through some more testing before I give him up, and that’s a lot to fit in only a day.”

Peggy looked over at Steve, who seemed a mess of emotions all written on his face plain as day: confused, frustrated, embarrassed, tired… she ached for his plight. “You’re alright with that?”

“I have to be.” Peggy saw the exact moment he bucked up and shoved the emotions away in favor of duty. Her emotions must have shown on her face more than she wanted them to, because he smirked and shrugged, trying to placate her further. “Besides, we’re finding out some pretty neat things about what I can do.”

“Neat?” Howard nearly choked, “Buddy, if you call this neat, we seriously have to work on your vocabulary.” Howard looked at Peggy, dead serious. “He can bench press a tank.”

She was stunned at that. She knew he’d be strong, but that was far exceeding what even Erskine had predicted. In her surprise, she could say only one thing, “Neat.”

~*~

Peggy spent the next morning in her room, packing things in her trunk carefully. She didn’t have much since she couldn’t take her uniforms with her. She packed the handful of dresses she had, and the one good woolen coat that wasn’t army-issued. She packed every stocking she had with care, looking over them for runs and holes and even mending one before settling them down amongst her packed clothes. She layered things by usefulness, and carefully packed away the little make up and nail varnish she had left. She set her paperbacks on top, knowing she hadn’t managed more than a page or two over the course of the war and it was hope more than any real belief that she would read them that made her pack them.

She’d had another sleepless night, and wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through all of this if she couldn’t get a decent night’s rest.

Peggy was sure the fact that she’d already experienced leaning over his bloodied body, thinking he was dying, was the very thing fueling her dread.

She packed methodically, taking everything except the army-issue clothes. She even packed canteens and belts, knowing she could get away with fibbing some of them were Steve’s.

Anything she couldn’t take she packed in a duffel. Phillips said it would be stored for her, but she knew she was unlikely to ever see those things again, no matter if things went right or wrong. She ran her thumb over her SSR pin, shining bright on the last jacket as she packed it away.

Peggy wished she understood this swirl of emotion. She was used to the rush of excitement, the fear of the unknown that each new case brought, not this complicated mess of uncertainty.

She zipped the bag and left it on the bed, now stripped down to a bare mattress, with her sheets folded at the corner.

Some other woman would be taking her room now, some other agent or secretary would move in with a handful of crisp, fresh army linens and the relief of having her own room instead of a bunk in the barracks.

Peggy closed her trunk with a sigh and turned to the mirror one more time. She hadn’t put on this dress in months, and her pumps felt so high after so long in just the little army issue shoes that barely had any heel. She supposed she looked good enough for war time, though in her mind her mother was scolding her for even thinking of going out traveling without a hat and gloves.

Gloves, she thought, would be a travesty. She rubbed her thumb over her rings, smiling. She’d gotten used to them quickly, and even though she shared Steve’s assertion that the diamond was a touch big, something about them felt reassuring.

She was pulled from her musing by a knock at her door. “Yes?”

“Peg?”

She smiled, despite herself. Steve’s voice was warm and welcome.

“Perfect timing,” She called, moving the few feet to open the door. She smiled at him, dressed back in a full drab green dress uniform, though without all the valor pinned to his chest. “Still looks good on you.”

He blushed and dropped his head, shrugging. She nearly chuckled at how much of him he still was, and then felt a warm surge of happiness as she watched how he twirled his ring with his other hand, spinning it over and over on his finger. He finally lifted his eyes back up, one half of his mouth lifted and eyes bright. “You look beautiful. I’m not used to seeing you out of uniform.”

“Well, get used to it,” she stepped back and let him in. “I’ve had to leave behind all the regulation clothes except for a few blouses and odds and ends that might be useful. No more Army green for me.”

“You look better in red, anyway.” His voice was so quiet she might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at him as he said it. She couldn’t help but smile, and she could tell he struggled to find what to say next. He finally broke the silence by pointing at her trunk. “All packed?” he asked, full of bravado and reassured by the banality of the task.

“Yes, quite.” She felt an awkwardness settle about them that she had to make sure they moved past it. They knew each other so little, but in a just a few hours, no matter what this spark was that was lighting between them, they had to convince the world they were married. “I’ve packed it pretty tightly, so do be careful.”

Steve smiled, reaching down and lifting it easily. “It’s a little lighter than a tank, so I think I’ll manage.”

She rolled her eyes, teasing back. “Wires, I suspect. Can’t lift more than an ant without them.”

“Or so I’ve been told,” he retorted, showing off and holding it up with only one hand. “Come on,” He stepped forward, moving to the door. “There’s a car waiting for us, has the two trunks you filled yesterday and mine on it already. We’ll strap this on then get going for the train station.”

Peggy followed him out, looking over her little room one last time and grabbing her purse, closing the door swiftly and trying to imagine she’d locked up all her confused feelings about everything back in that room. “You know,” she began as they moved down the hall, “I’m not a very vain person, but the idea that people will believe I’m toting around three trunks of my own things when people are struggling with so little now does sting a little.”

She moved quickly to get in front of him and held open the door for him, following as he directed her to the car. “You know,” he started, gently setting down the trunk in the back of the jeep and making sure it wasn’t moving before he pushed the tailgate up, “my wife’s allowed to bring as much stuff with her as she wants.” He smiled, hands on his hips. “Anyone else be damned.”

Peggy managed to clock that the jeep and the driver were not from their camp or their regiment, and though she’d counted on the time during the drive to set some things about their past together straight, she realized they were out of time, and the charade began now. She took a few long strides and wound her arms around his neck. “How simply wonderful of you to say, darling.” She felt a shiver go up her spine when his hands lightly wrapped around her hips. She smiled to reassure him, and his grip tightened. “Especially considering you’re the one that has to carry them.”

She could tell Steve was struggling with what he wanted to do next. She could see indecision in his eyes: there was something he wanted to do, but he didn’t think he should.

If he was thinking the same thing she was, making out in the middle of the base was both a fabulous idea to keep up their cover and a horrible idea considering she could see Phillips and Stark watching them from across the camp. She pulled back, taking the choice from him. “Come along, darling. The train won’t wait for us!”

She pulled his hand along to the side of the jeep, letting him boost her up and then scooting over so he could sit next to her.

“Ready, sir?” The private in front asked.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Steve replied, and the jeep rumbled to life, driving them away from Lehigh and down to the train station.

#steggyweek22 #Steggy #3p's fic #AU #WIP #steggy fic

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thelifeofnosilla · 2 years

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Saturday, October 22nd

Hello there,

So I noticed that it has been exactly one month since I have posted on here. Is this why my mind is lingering and the urge to write fell upon me at 11pm at night? To be honest I cannot sleep, but I mean it is early for someone who lives in NYC. My partner has a new job and so he is already sleeping by this time. I mean that was my plan to right? To be on this entire routine? WELL, here we go again. That routine no longer exists, I lost 10 pounds to begin to gain it all over again. I do not even need to get on the scale, I can feel it in my body. Plus I have been eating so bad that I just feel terrible in general. I clearly have something mentally wrong with my brain, which I have always known but I keep falling back into the same habits. I need to really find some control over myself and get in together. I scroll on Instagram all day and I do not understand how I am even ok with looking how I look, knowing how unhappy I am.

Ugh, I feel like writing this post today seems so dark but that is just how I feel. I am back in a bad place that I only put myself into. I need to bounce back and get it together. This is why I wanted to be in a routine and I wanted to write everyday, even if it was to say I am ok because holding up for a month with my thoughts just is not the way to go. The good thing is that when I am on here, I just let myself write everything that I am feeling. I was watching The Luckiest Girl Alive on Netflix today and the best advice I ever heard was to write as if no one you know was reading it, that is when you do your best writing. I guess having this blog was the best thing I ever did for myself. I just need to take more advantage of it.

I do not really know what is going on with me but I guess I am in a weird place in life and instead of going after what makes me happy of controlling what I can control, I seem to do the opposite. I told my partner that everything would change once I got our own place and now we have been here for almost 4 years and nothing has really changed for me, other than the fact that I feel the freedom of being in my own space. I mean let me rewind here, honestly a lot has clearly changed in my life, I have a good job, we have our own space, I am more at peace with myself and can have time to myself to just think BUT I did not do anything about my weight or taking care of myself. The self sabotaging does not stop and I do not think it matters where I am. I wanted to move into this new apartment because it mostly had a gym in the building and I told myself it would push me to work out, but would it? I lock myself in this apartment and sometimes I do not even want to go up and down the stairs. Should I do therapy? Maybe but I do not feel like I am ready for that, maybe I am scared or maybe I just do not want to talk about the traumas in my life. One thing I do know is that I am 30 years old and I want better in life.

Everything I write, I always say that my mind starts to linger and it is right now. Thinking about my relationship and if my partner is even happy with me. Sometimes I feel like I am worried about everyone else and never myself. He has even said it himself. I think that if he saw me worried about myself, he would honestly be happier. Happier to be with someone who actually cares about themselves. I have been saying this out loud lately to some friends that I feel like I pulled him back from having a better life than the one he has now and knowing that I have not even tried. So many times he has told me, just save, please just save your money and I cannot even do that. I know that I need to be better and I am going to be. I am going to work on it. I know that I can be better but I have to put in the work. That is the other thing, I do not put in work into anything. Doing something for 1-2 weeks is not putting in work, it is about being consistent. Either way I know that I can be better and I need to make sure I do that.

I should definitely go to sleep soon and take in that tomorrow is a new day to work towards a better me. I hope that as I come on here and write, that I find growth in myself.

I should hopefully find myself back on here tomorrow, if not, definitely Monday for sure as I hop back into my weekly routine. I want to start moving with intention and doing things intentionally in my life.

Goodnight you beautiful people. 🥰

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chilumi-shipper · 2 years

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Hanahaki disease with xiao(this takes place after osials defeat), reader who is inlove with xiao and took years to be able to talk and break his walls and just when the reader felt they were going somewherea and hoping to finally be with xiao she tries to confess but xiao is no where to be seen but reader shrugs it off because it's normal to have xiao disappear for weeks after a few days she saw xiao again and tried to confess only to be told he has important matters too attend to. A week passed by while strolling thru liyue harbor she saw lumine and xiao together being sweet and all, it broke readers heart and ignored xiao, a month pass and xiao noticed readers wierd behavior of avoiding him and decided to confront her and she confess but sadly xiao said what she suspected all along, he loves lumine.

(Ummm.........i just need this to get out of my mind and i dont know where else to put and since your one of my favorite writers I'll just put it here hehehehe and feel free to ignore)

Can't Breathe

Xiao x Adeptus!Reader

Summary: You have Hanahaki disease, and you love Xiao way too much.

(First of all, ⊙.☉, second, this is just a little drabble to add on.)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Imagine if it was an Adeptus!Reader though, for centuries you were by his side, the moment Rex Lapis saved him from his cruel master, you were there to care for him.

You were there when his fellow Yaksha turned against each other, by his side even though he started to act harshly towards you, Xiao would say throat-cutting insults, push you around, didn't care if you ever got hurt...

You love him, you wouldn't leave him even if fate forced you apart.

You were fighting by his side in the many wars Teyvat has faced, making sure he's safe and unwounded, during the little moments that Xiao let himself sleep, you make sure that his slumber is peaceful, even though he didn't make the effort to talk to you, you would always try to do things that will satisfy him, make him some Almond Tofu, talk to him despite not receiving any replies, pick flowers and decorate his room with them, to bring color in his sight.

All those, and you barely cracked the barrier that he surrounded himself in.

You asked yourself as your lungs burned:

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Why are you destroying your own life?"

"Why can't you just let go?"

"Why does he show that smile, that you spend most of your life trying to see, to the Traveler?"

You looked at the pair sitting together by the boats in Liyue Harbor.

He never held your hand like that.

He never looked at you that fondly.

He never loved you like he loves the blond Traveler by his side.

"I can't breath..."

You found yourself in Guili Plains, not being able to walk any further, your lungs full of flowers born from love.... And sadness.

You try to catch your breath, but choking from both sobs and petals, you couldn't. You can only drop to your knees, cursing yourself for wasting your whole life just for this one horrible moment.

You know what you had to do....

...

Xiao found you in Guili Plains, lying in the middle of a field of flowers that wasn't there the day before...

It's as if they grew all in one day.

You were awake, staring at the sky as he approaches you.

The Adeptus kneeled down beside you, before you finally look at him.

"...Where am I?"

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Part 2: "A Second Breath"

I changed the ending a bit 😅 also, the thought that maybe reader has the power to get rid of the flowers in her chest, but she doesn't want to ever forget Xiao, so she's enduring the pain cause she loves him too much :( it's sad vibes

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #xiao x reader #xiao angst #genshin angst #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao

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imdoingsortagay · 2 years

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Chaos Rebels

Characters: Kate Bishop, Yelena Belova , mention of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff ( she's alive in my mind kk )

Word Count: 1.2k

summary: Kate and Yelena love to cause chaos, it's what they do. Fun for them and a pain in the butt for you most of the time

Warnings: doggies, knives, dogs using knives, Clint is mentioned in this :(, chaos

a/n: thanks to my favorite anons 💄 and 😈 for inspiring the name because it's Yelena and Kate in a nutshell, also because i saw a tiktok of a dog with a knife and thought of them 2 doing it

When You started to date Kate, a part of you know that there would never be a moment of peace in your life ever again.

Which to some might seem like a bad thing but you didn’t mind since it was always fun to hear Kate ramble on about whatever after the long days both of you had. She had the energy of a golden retriever half the time and you loved it.

About a year into your relationship is when she ended up meeting what you both would consider being the best addition to both of your lives.

Lucky the dog.

She had saved the dog from almost being run over and since she was dealing with some shady stuff that involved her mom’s new fiance, the only solution that she could think of was to bring the dog to your apartment while we went on to discover more into on jack

“ Kate why are you in cosplay and have a dog with you ?”

“ first of all, not that, and second of all he almost got crushed by someone”

“ Aww poor baby come here,” you say to the dog as you kneel down and get to his level to give him all the love. He comes with no hesitation while kate tries to find something to eat for the poor fella.

“ I have leftover pizza from yesterday baby, I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow and can get him something to eat,” you tell her, and the dog immediately leaves to eat the leftovers

“ Are you gonna keep him, babe? “

“ Maybe,” she says and you are given the cutest puppy eyes by both of them.

After that day, you both end up deciding on keeping the golden as your own, not finding any owners of his in new york.

He became a big part of both your lives and even lead to both of you moving in together after Kate’s place was set on fire by some idiots in tracksuits.

Way to explain that one if you wanted to.

It ended up helping all of you in the long run and it’s been 3 years since Kate and lucky moved in with you.

Kate even became an avenger so that meant that she would bring more chaos to your life which you didn’t mind.

More chaos was brought when the former Russian assassin, Yelena Belova, came into your shared apartment after the fight that occurred between your girlfriend, herself, and Clint.

She was a bit hesitant to open herself up since the death of her sister but after a couple of months of living together and all of you were able to have a good dynamic.

Which meant that you were able to see Yelena’s more chaotic personality when she wasn’t doing avengers business. Today is one of these times where her wild side comes out and she has Kate as her partner in crime.

A little bit after Yelena came to live with both of you, Kate had recommended to Yelena that she get a dog of her own.

“Why do I need a dog kate bishop ?“ Yelena asks as she watches you and kate cuddling with Lucky on the other side of the couch.

“ So you have a little companion to sleep in and stuff, “ Kate says while you keep yourself occupied with petting his head

“ Wow you both are lame,” She says and just continues to keep her attention on the tv

This leads to the three of you going to the dog shelter 3 weeks later to find a dog for Yelena with Lucky coming along to see which dog he vibes with. That in itself took a while as Lucky wasn’t having it at the time and you had to bribe the dog with some treats and a quick trip for a pup cup to even come.

Yet the moment he saw the American Akita in one of the kennels all sad and wanting a buddy, all 3 of you knew this would turn into an even more chaotic place to live.

Which in fact it did, like today

You and out to the grocery store as Yelena and Kate were tasked to start dinner as you had invited the blonde's mother and kate’s mentor over for dinner. The three of you seemed to have it all under control when you had forgotten that you ran out of an ingredient for the recipe.

As you were making your way to the closest grocery store, Yelena was formulating a plan that would most likely get both her and Kate in trouble.

“ Kate Bishop, how about we teach the dogs how to use knives while we wait for y/n to come back,” she asks as she takes the knife in hand and twirls it around casually. Yelena didn’t seem to care that she asked something so insane to kate like it was nothing

“ no “

“ why not Kate, it’s not like she’ll know “

“ she’s gonna know Yelena and their dogs, “ she pauses to see that Fanny and Lucky are just sleeping next to each other all cute,” why do they need to know how to use knives ???”

“ for self-defense you dummy!!! Cmon now “ She says to her.

About 20 minutes of convincing of Yelena and puppy eyes from the dogs with the blonde included and both ladies are showing the dogs how to use knives like pros. Kate takes her phone out to take a picture of this in memory in case you catch them.

10 more minutes of teaching the dogs how to use them made them forget that you were out getting groceries, so when you came into the apartment with the missing ingredient, 2 dogs with knives in their mouths was something not on the list.

At all

“ Belova, Bishop, what the fuck?” you say as you stand there in shock, not knowing what to say to the situation. Bad idea on your part to announce it because the dogs came running to you with knives in their mouths, ready to give you all the love in the world.

It took both of them 10 minutes to calm the dog's town to be able to get the knives back and ensure you didn’t get harmed in the process of it too. Nobody was harmed but both of them knew you were gonna lecture the hell out of them for it.

“ so, who taught them how to use knives? I’m not mad I just wanna know,” you say to both of them. A couple of seconds pass before Kate ends ups talking and outing the blonde as the one who came up with the idea.

“ Yelena came up with the idea y/n” she blurts out and immediately covers her mouth knowing she’s gotten on the blonde’s bad sides for ratting her out.

“ Yelena why the fuck would you even teach the dogs how to use knives ?”

“ For self defense y/n! Why else would i do it?”

“ Yelena Belova, they are DOGS WHY THE FUCK DO THEY NEED KNVIES ?” you tell her and give both of them a lecture on not doing dumb shit again.

Once Clint and Melina show up for dinner, you tell both of them what happened during the time you were gone at the grocery store and enjoy the chaos that happens at Nat and Clint lecture them about why they are both idiots for teaching the dogs how to use knives.

Chaos like this is how you like it with Yelena and Kate and would not change a thing about it.

#lizs writing #marvel fics #wlw fics #yelena belova x kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #Yelena Belove x Kate Bishop x Reader #kate bishop fluff #Yelena Belova Fluff #reader insert fics

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tb3ih · 2 years

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2:34 am ft. zhongli

note(s) gn!reader, modern + domestic au, inspired by one of my old drabbles wherein i domesticate a character (okay but it's the geo archon, you all saw this coming...)

includes implications of insomnia, a child!! (described to resemble zhongli, interpret it any way you wish), husband! zhongli, reader is referred to as "nari" by child (derived from 'non-binary').

it is not morning when you wake, for the exuberant moon having yet to finish its waltz across the midnight sky is a slight indication of the time. you're quick to check on zhongli who remains asleep next to you, his steady, slumbering breath never faltering.

a tired sigh escapes your lips when your eyes read the led 2:34 am on your nightstand clock and you try your best to settle once more into bed. you freeze when you feel the sleeping figure next to you stir a bit, a toned arm coming to settle at your waist and pull you closer.

you will never see the day that you do not marvel at the beauty of your husband, zhongli, nor do you wish for it to come. the moon is kind in the way it illuminates the two of you in bed and you can't help the bit of envy that blooms in your heart at how effortlessly attractive he manages to look, even in his sleep.

long dark hair played out almost like a halo against the silk pillows, you bring a hand to brush a stray lock of bang away from his peaceful complexion. dark ink traces its way across much of the upper body of your sleeping husband, geometric patterns and shapes illustrating themselves on his fair skin rather prominently.

you can't help it when your fingers begin to follow the trail of ink as it curls over his torso, never missing the way his tattoos seem to kiss the curves of his upper body.

"it's rather early to be awake, my love," a deep voice reverberates, dark lashes fluttering open to reveal warm golden irises now fixated on you. you meet his gaze apologetically, to which he sighs softly, "no need for apologies, dear, what's on your mind?"

almost as if to coax you, zhongli's thumb begins to rub soft circles at your waist, prompting you to tuck your figure closer to his. "just a bad dream, nothing of concern..."

if being married to you for more than a decade had taught the man anything, it was that asking you to admit to something that might cause worry would be an impossible feat. "if you wish to share, know that i am listening."

you're silent for a few more moments, the sound of your heartbeat allowing you to keep track of the soundless seconds. you almost don't hear the sound of your own whisper, "do you ever dream?"

zhongli hums lowly as if considering the question. "i have on many occasions, why do you ask?" he goes to prop himself up on one arm, the two of you now meeting eye to eye.

"do you have a least favorite?"

he thinks for a moment, recalling the few times he himself had to leave that of his state of sleep to avoid witnessing anymore untasteful dreams. "i dreamt once of the day you had left me the first time, the morning after we met..."

and despite your better judgment, you find yourself letting out a small laugh at the memory of that day, how you had clumsily stumbled out of his apartment with your things, unaware of how half of your attire hadn't even been yours (you still haven't given zhongli his shirt back but he hasn't asked for it back).

it would only be a few weeks later when he would find you at the same bar, only this time around he had was able to hook you in with breakfast in bed before you could tell him you'd be late for work (you'd be lying anyway).

"i will have you know i went to that bar every night in hopes i'd be able to see you again," zhongli chuckles, pulling you in closer till the two of you breathed the same air. "it just so happens i am a man of limitless patience."

he brings his hand to stroke your cheek and you find yourself sighing into his touch, allowing your eyes to close for a bit as he continues his ministrations. "...and i am grateful for it..."

a small knocking sound at your bedroom door pulls the two of you from your silent moment, the sound of a turning nob following shortly after. in steps a small figure, long dark hair and golden eyes much more than just familiar. "d-daddy? nari?"

concern clouds your expression as you sit up, beckoning her to come closer with open arms. zhongli has shifted as well, moving to sit up next to you as the small girl approached your side of the bed. it's only when she comes closer do you see the faint glint of tears filling her beautiful eyes, glossy lids threatening to spill at any moment.

"awh genji, come here," you call, embracing her closely when she jumps up into your arms on the bed, her face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. you hear her sniffle a bit and you rub lightly up and down her small back. "just breathe baby, we're here."

your husband scoots closer, an arm going to prop himself up behind you while the other strokes lightly at the young girl's hair. his voice is all warm honey and gentle hugs. "my sweet girl, why the tears, hm?"

"i thought you guys left me..." genji hiccups, thumb coming to her lips as she looks up at her father. pushing off lightly from you, she comes to settle on your lap, finally facing you. "you promised you'd sleep with me."

you feel as if your heart might crack then and there at the sight of your daughter and her gorgeously sorrowful eyes letting you know she had felt abandoned. "no, no, babygirl, we didn't leave you," you assure, taking both of your hands to cup her little face. "daddy and i just went to sleep in our bed because we didn't want to take up all of yours, please don't be sad."

zhongli beckons her himself, opening his arms to accept her before pulling her into a gentle hug and pressing a chaste kiss to her hair. "genji, my dear, nari and daddy would never leave you, you needn't worry."

"can i sleep here?" you almost don't hear her voice, its soft undertones sneaking about the air like a faint breeze.

you let out a small chuckle, pulling the comforter off the bed back to allow the small girl to snuggle in between you and zhongli. "of course baby, come snuggle with us."

the three of you settle in the large bed, close and tucked into one another perfectly. genji snuggles into you closely, the top of her head settling beneath your chin.

your hand comes to stroke lightly at her back, the small action relaxing the child and once more allowing her to be lulled into slumber. "g'night nari, night daddy..."

kissing her head, you look up to see your husband already looking at you, golden hues adoring the sight of the two loves of his life. though his expression is a little tired, he can't help the soft smile that curls at his lips when you offer him yours.

your voice is a whisper and somewhere in your heart, you feel the words echo.

"sweet dreams, my love."

#xx tb3ih #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #domestic!zhongli #domestic!genshin #genshin impact #genshin #genshin zhongli #genshin fluff #genshin comfort #zhongli x you #zhongli sfw #genshin sfw

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | lila salt, so much salt

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life.

w.c | 8.1k

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass.

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it.

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?”

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess...

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared.

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.”

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child.

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.”

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate?

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain.

Was it...?

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps.

Perhaps it was possible.

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise.

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?”

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?”

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.”

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily.

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks.

No.

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again.

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead.

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them.

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!”

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines.

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?”

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.”

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for.

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support.

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl.

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,).

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything.

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed.

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one.

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on.

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.”

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one.

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart.

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done.

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks.

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation.

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself.

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill.

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers?

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!”

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.”

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter.

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?”

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen.

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face.

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was.

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.”

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.”

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery.

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being.

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had.

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist.

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white.

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...?

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.”

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom.

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?”

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string.

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done.

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.”

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone.

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!”

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her...

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on.

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...”

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?”

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.”

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...”

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?”

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word.

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.”

A collective choir of groans rounded the class.

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?”

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely?

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed.

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?”

“... No.”

“...”

“... Maybe.”

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.”

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.”

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?”

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.”

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression.

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?”

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?”

This elicited another round of groans.

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally.

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery.

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam!

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled.

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette?

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right?

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point.

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft.

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other?

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.”

Alya was silent.

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes.

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?”

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally.

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates.

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job.

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.”

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom.

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?”

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.”

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know...

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.”

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.”

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row.

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.”

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him.

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?”

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered.

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.”

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in.

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled.

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea.

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?”

The class agreed, nodding along.

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president.

This is your problem now.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?”

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?”

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly.

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.”

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?”

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile.

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—”

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.”

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’.

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?”

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice.

“Determination was always one of your good traits.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there.

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations.

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond.

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come.

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet.

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars.

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write...

#ml salt #ml saltfic #saltfic #lila salt #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #[ris writes]—✧

1K notes · View notes

strawberry-nugget · 3 years

Text

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

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