#he was the reason i made that 'i need to learn to draw bruises' post and honestly still haven't mastered those but i need to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teteminne · 2 years

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Here comes the jonsa snippet

Alright, so after a wonderful positive response, here is the jonsa scene for the fic that I IN FACT will be writing and posting on Ao3 very soon. I really hope you guys like it! And shoutout to @esther-dot and @sizzlinbaconpeach your lovely answers made me CRACK UP

The rhythmic sound of her sturdy winter boots meeting the hard stone of Winterfell’s floor echoes in Sansa's ears as she makes her way through the halls. Anticipation is a heavy, twisting thing within her stomach, and she itches to bring her hands forward, before her lap, so that she might find some relief from fiddling with them.

She doesn’t, has learned to mask herself better than that, but still, the need is there.

She has come this way with a purpose. With reason. The dirt from the kennels sticks still to the soles of her boots, as does the steady, dull ringing in her ears that started as soon as she first glimpsed Ramsey’s figure on that chair and has yet to leave her since. Around her, the world still feels muted, floating, and her feelings bubble and blossom within her in colorful, intense waves. Her hand shakes slightly as she raises it to the oakwood door. She does not know what she’s thinking. She knocks.

It takes a while. Inside, she can hear, after a few moments, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Heavy, thundering footsteps that make their way not to the door, but to the other side of the room. Another moment. More steps. Her breath hitches. Jon opens the door.

He looks surprised to see her, like he could not have possibly expected to see her there. Sansa feels, bizarrely, like a trembling leaf, no matter the fact that she knows not a single muscle in her body is moving.

‘’Sansa?’’ he asks, and she draws a small, shivering breath at the sound of it. She tries to smile, a small, teethless thing, and, wordlessly, Jon moves aside to let her in.

‘’What are you doing?’’ she asks, and she is stunned at how normal she sounds, how level-headed. She hardly feels like she’s in her own body right now.

‘’Resting, I guess.’’ he answers, and his tone is as bewildered as she guesses he must be. Yes, he truly did not expect to see her now.

To his credit, neither had she expected to come.

She turns towards him. He is standing by a large, sturdy wooden table, right beside an askew chair, and he is looking back at her, straight at her, and Sansa swallows heavily, eyes flying off in another direction before snapping back to him. His face does not change, but a small, faint line takes space between his brows, and Sansa wants to shrink and wither away at the sight of it.

She ignores this, all of it, and after a beat, her flighty gaze catches his hands. She swallows again.

‘’Your hands.’’ she says, abrupt, and that surprises him again. He looks down at them. ‘’You’re hurt.’’

‘’Yes. It’s fine.’’

‘’Let me… Let me help you.’’ she finally settles for, finally leaving her fixed spot in the middle of his chambers and making her way towards him. Jon says nothing, just watches her. She reaches him and grabs at his left hand with both of hers, motioning for him to sit as she twists his hand slowly, looks at the cuts, the bruising, the swelling of it, under all angles. He keeps watching. He watches as she lets go of his hand to go in search of bandages and a water basin he says he’s had delivered here, he watches as she questions and he tells her where to find it, and as she returns to him and places the bowl and the fabric atop the table, stands between his open legs, grabs his hand and starts to gently, ever so gently, wash it, her touch as light as the fluttery movement of a butterfly’s kiss. All this while, his eyes never leave her, dark and all knowing. She pointedly avoids them.

Sansa clears her throat. ‘’I’ve…I’ve settled Littlefinger in the main keep already. The knights of the Vale have also already started to make camp…’’

‘’What happened, Sansa?’’ What have you done? hangs implied. Her hand trembles, and he can feel it, for it still holds his, large, hot, swollen and suddenly heavy in her grasp. She doesn’t let go, though. She doesn’t move. Neither does he.

‘’Ramsey is dead.’’ I killed him, she doesn’t say. He hears it all the same.

Jon nods slowly, never taking his eyes from her. She wishes he would. She never wants him to. It's confusing, it's all confusing now.

‘’Good.’’ is all he says, and suddenly, she wants nothing more than to sag, lean into him, a trembling leaf, and cry. Cry and cry and cry. Her breath leaves her in a shaking, trembling sigh.

‘’Yes. Yes.’’ her eyes burn, and through it all, he keeps watching her, dark eyes so deep, bottomless, she feels utterly, totally naked. Open. Exposed. Like he put his hands to her and pulled and pulled her apart, layer by layer, until there she stood before him, laid bare; a girl.

She does not know why she came here.

‘’Why did you betray me?’’

‘’I did not betray you.’’ her answer is immediate, strong, the words leaving her with such force they seem to push the very air in their path to him. He does not move. She’s finally staring straight back at him, attentive, sharp. Present.

‘’You hid your plans from me. Plotted behind my back, without my knowing…’’

‘’You did the same when you proposed single combat with him without ever telling me a word…’’

‘’It’s not the same.’’ he is not forceful, not now at least, but he is final. ‘’You know it’s not the same.’’

‘’Do I?’’ she is forceful. ‘’Do I?’’

‘’Yes’’ he hisses, harshly standing up, chair scraping loudly against stone. Sansa moves not an inch, not an inch, eyes raising cooly to keep contact with his. ‘’Yes, you know, Sansa.’’

For a moment, she holds his gaze, defiant. Dark grey on steel blue. Electric.

And then she averts her eyes, face turning, looking down, because she does know. It was not the same.

Jon exhales, hand going up to push his hair back - the irrational thought to protest flits through her mind. His hand is wounded, and his hair is dirty - before he sits back down, and for a while, there's silence.

Sansa is still not looking at him when she speaks again. "I will not apologize." she states "The knights of the Vale won the battle. We needed them. I will not apologize."

"Why did you hide this from me?"

"I was sure you would not listen to me." there is silence. When she speaks again, her voice is tiny. ‘’Was I wrong?’’

Silence again. Finally, Jon huffs. She raises her eyes back at him, and catches the last few shakes of his head before he speaks again, head bending down, face being covered by his hands, and so much defeat in his voice her heart aches. ‘’No. You weren’t.’’

She does not know why she does it. Only that the impulse is so strong, she cannot tame it. She raises her hand, slowly, hesitantly, and softly touches his hair. Jon stills, even his breath halting. Yet, still, Sansa continues, fingers slowly combing through his hair, pressing so very lightly against his skull, in a caress that is both foreign and familiar. Her breath comes out in a light, shredded sigh; his, in a trembling, whooshing one. Slowly, so slowly, he raises his head - not all the way, just a bit - and then, even more tentatively, presses almost imperceptibly against her touch. Her heart pounds. His hands move, find their way to her, to her hips, grab at the fabric there - but gently, so gently. A breath and they’d fall away. He shifts his head again, achingly bringing it forward, her hand moving with it, never leaving his dark locks, until it meets with her stomach, rests there. Her other hand moves, finds his shoulder, skims to where it meets his neck. To where his leather vest gives way and reveals skin. Sansa rests three fingers there, and she can almost feel his pulse, thrumming beneath their skin, pulsing, strong.

It's the strangest embrace she’s ever had. It's the one she’ll keep the closest to her heart, along with that other one, that first one. The one that had breathed life back to her. Warmed her bones again.

Touch with Jon is so strange, so dear. She feels it like a living thing, a physical thing - this need to feel him, to grab him, to touch him, always, to make sure he’s there, to feel him there. No matter how difficult it is with him, it is always such a relief to have him, there, with her. It’s like she wants him to crawl beneath her skin, settle inside her, another heart, so similar and yet so starkly different, beating in sync with hers.

‘’How did Ramsey die?’’ How did you kill him?

‘’His dogs.’’ she swallows, throat tight. ‘’His dogs.’’ repeats.

‘’Sansa.’’ he sights. She is numb, yet still. Still. The air wobbles as she takes it fraily through her nose. Jon exhales, grip growing a bit - just a bit - tighter on her hips. She lets the air out. ‘’Do not let him haunt you.’’

She closes her eyes, tightens her grip on his hair. The thought of Rickon comes to her (because no matter if Ramsey doesn’t haunt her, he will, with his boyish curls and blood stained lips. With his mangled, prepubescent body. With how she failed to save him. With how she gave up on him) and she wants to press him against her, against her womb. Press him so tight she would still feel the imprint of him against her flesh once she let go.

She doesn’t, by an inch, a breath, a thread.

Her eyes are still closed as he continues: ‘’It’s you and me now. We have to trust each other. We can’t fight a war amongst ourselves. We have so many enemies now.’’ For a moment there is only silence then, until finally, Jon continues - finishes, she can tell - voice darker, deeper: ‘’Do not hide things from me again.’’

She sighs. Squeezes him a bit, just a bit; ‘’Listen to me.’’ he squeezes her back, so strong and yet so gentle. Contained. She longs to wrap herself around him.

They remain as they are.

#I really hope you like it guys #please let me know your thoughts on this #im definitelly excited to write this lol #jonsa #actually jonsa #jonsa fic #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark

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accidentalmistress · 9 months

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Accidental Mistress - This Feeling

Apologies for being a day late, but the fic is finally here. This one follows directly after the events of Broken, so it might be a good idea to read that first if you haven't.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Title: This Feeling

Word Count: 8,531

Content and Warnings: snz (F, N-B, mention of male snz), illness, caretaking

In which Oraion must learn to adapt to a situation he's never experienced in his long life - being responsible for a sick human.

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Even without looking, he could feel those golden eyes boring into him. He always hated that unnerving, probing gaze that seemed to strip him bare despite the layers of his robes, so he kept his gaze ahead as they walked and he tried to process the words being spoken to him.

"I am sorry. It brings me no pleasure to bear this news. I know how much you care for her."

He took a breath and attempted, with great effort, to keep his voice calm.

"There has to be another way."

"Oraion." The man placed a firm hand on his arm, stopping him, but his tone softened a moment later. "There is not. Believe me, I have done everything within my power to find another path, but… there is none. The process has already begun; her fate cannot be changed. Not even by me. One way or another, she will die—"

He shut his own eyes. "No—!"

"Nothing can change that now. The only thing we can do is to ensure that it happens while she is still herself." He sighed and his touch vanished from Oraion’s arm. “I… would like to offer you the opportunity. I understand if you cannot do it, but it seemed wrong not to ask you first.”

At last Oraion turned to the man beside him, the absurdity of those words drawing him to seek some hint of alternate meaning in the other’s face. He shuddered when those eyes met his, unable to suppress the motion. One look told him everything he needed to know.

"You want me to…? Are you seriously asking me to kill her?!"

"I am not going to force you. We will find another to—"

"No! I do not wish for her to die!"

The other man lifted his chin, those horrible eyes growing narrow and cold.

"I believe I made it clear that you do not have a say in the matter. The only reason you and I are even having this conversation is out of respect for your aeons of faithful service. Her sacrifice will forestall disaster and spare countless lives. Surely you understand that. I do not make this decision lightly, but the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few. Or do you intend to oppose the will of the gods?"

Oraion awoke.

Morning. He reached a hand up to his face and traced a lingering trail of wetness with his fingers.

"... a memory?"

It had been quite some time since he had dreamed of that day, and longer still back to the time it had occurred. Ages ago, literally.

As he sat up in bed and cast about with bleary eyes, the demon realized he was not in his own room, but Noelle’s. A moment later the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him in a fresh torrent of emotion and flashes of memory. Noelle coming home bloody and bruised, her breakdown in the front hall, the bath he had given her, tucking her into bed, brewing her the tea that lulled her to sleep, and then…

He couldn’t tell her what he’d done. She didn’t want him to seek retribution for her. Yet old habits died hard, it seemed. Besides, he hadn’t killed the young men who had beaten her—he only visited upon them the same level of pain they had inflicted upon his Mistress. An eye for an eye, as they say.

His gaze fell upon her next to him in the bed, still fast asleep. She moaned a little and turned over, her expression tense. Oraion knew well that her sleep was often plagued by nightmares, but this morning her face was unusually flush. A lock of hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and as Oraion went to gently brush the hair out of her face he was surprised at how warm her skin felt. Her eyelids fluttered open and she blinked up at him.

“Mmh… Oraion?”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Are you all right? You feel oddly warm.”

“Do I?” As she sat up, her chest spasmed with several harsh coughs. “Ugh, I hope I don't have a cold.”

“What? Are you… cold?”

Her brown eyes flicked to the side, hesitant. “Oh… Um, i-it’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

She tried to get up out of the bed, wincing, and Oraion was on his feet and by her side in an instant. She gave him a sheepish smile.

“I guess I am a bit sore in a few places.”

“Your ankle—are you certain you should be walking on it?”

“It actually feels much better today, thanks to that bath. As long as I’m careful it’ll be all right.”

“Mistress, perhaps you should stay in bed and rest…”

Noelle grimaced and shook her head. “I can’t just lie around all day; I’ll only feel like a bother, and I’ve had quite enough of that. Really, I’m fine, Oraion…”

A sort of distracted look came over her face before she suddenly put her hands over her nose and mouth as her eyes squeezed shut.

“Ishoo! Ishoo! Oh gosh…”

Despite his concern, Oraion couldn’t help but think how cute she was when she sneezed. Gods, she really was rubbing off on him, wasn’t she? Well, his only real experience with sneezing had thus far been in an almost entirely sexual context, so could anyone really blame him for the association?

“Bless you, dear. You were sneezing last night, too.”

She sniffled as her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I-I know. I, uh… It- It was so chilly out last night, y-you know? I, um, guess it got me a bit sniffly.”

Oraion pursed his lips. He had the distinct feeling that Noelle was hiding something, but what it could possibly be, he had no idea. After her ordeal last night, however, he was reluctant to press the issue. Surely she would open up to him when she was ready.

“Is there anything I can do for you, then?”

“Um… Would you make me some more tea? If you don’t mind. I think I’ll just go wash up a bit—I’m so sweaty.”

Oraion nodded, glad to have a clear task to focus on. He made his way down to the kitchen and set about preparing the tea. He was embarrassed to admit it, but it occurred that he should probably learn to make proper food. He’d never needed to, not before he was a Demon Lord, and certainly not since. It always felt beneath him, but whenever he watched Noelle do it there seemed to be a sort of simple joy in it that he’d never bothered to take notice of before. More memories of the previous night came back to him.

“You could always, um, stay here with me. We can just… live like this.”

Could he actually stay here with her? Live like a mortal with her until…

Until she died.

Death. It was what made mortals mortal. It would happen to her one day, hopefully many years from now, but it would happen all the same. So many years had already passed Oraion by; the span of a mortal life was but a fraction of his own. Was he really going to put himself through the pain of staying with her, only to lose her when her time ran out? What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking, he was letting his emotions rule him, just as he had back then.

Oraion closed his eyes and sighed. How had he gotten in so deep in a single year? Was it this contract that bound him to her? Was it influencing his mind? Making him care for her? Or were these feelings real? Did he… love her? Gods, it had certainly felt like it the night before.

He could still feel the heat of rage that seethed just below the surface, even after giving those thugs the thrashing they deserved. He knew, though, that much of the rage that remained was self-directed. He had failed to protect her, ostensibly his most important duty as her Servant, a role he had come to accept, even enjoy. At first he only felt distaste towards the very idea of being anyone’s “servant”, but Noelle never treated him like an inferior, never enforced a typical Master/Servant relationship. She had always treated him as an equal, a partner…

How did she feel about him? Did she harbor similar feelings as he did?

The demon took both hands and rubbed them up and down his face with a groan.

“Ugh… fuck. I really need to get a grip on myself and make this damned tea instead of having an existential crisis in the kitchen.”

Once the drink was ready, he carried it carefully upstairs. Noelle wasn’t back in her room yet, so he set the tea down next to the bed. Should he check on her? Or was he being overprotective? Caring for her had felt so natural last night, but now he couldn’t help but second-guess his every move. He’d certainly done an excellent job of confusing himself, that was the only thing he was certain about at this point.

He approached the bathroom door and stood outside it for a moment, hesitating, before he steeled himself and rapped on the door.

“Mistress? Are you all right?”

No answer, only the sound of running water. He knocked again.

“… Mistress?”

When silence remained the only answer he grabbed the handle and opened the door, anxiety snaking through his stomach before it dropped as though it fell through the entire tower.

Noelle was lying on the floor, unmoving.

Oraion didn’t even remember crossing the distance before he was at her side, cradling her in his arms.

“Noelle?!”

He lifted her off the floor and carried her to the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed before checking her over. She was breathing and he could sense her heartbeat, but she remained senseless no matter how many times he called her name. Her body felt even hotter than it had before, like she was burning up.

Wait, was this what humans called a “fever”? Her odd behavior, the sneezing and coughing, it all clicked into place.

Noelle was sick.

Oraion racked his brain, trying to remember anything he knew about human illnesses. It had been so long since he’d needed to concern himself with such things, though—at least a thousand years, if not more. Sickness had not even occurred to him as a possibility. What was a simple fact of life for humans was a foreign concept to demons, who were no more familiar with getting sick than they were with growing old: it simply did not happen.

He vaguely recalled something about humans becoming ill if you left them cold and wet for too long. Noelle had been awfully cold when she’d arrived home, and her clothes were soaked through. Was that what she meant when she said she might “have a cold”? Another reason those hooligans deserved what they’d gotten. It was their fault his Mistress was now ill.

Let’s see, what do I know about fevers…? There was that one village back in Shinchuro Province, about three thousand years ago, I think. A fever swept through and they begged for a cure because so many were dying.

He looked back to Noelle with renewed alarm. Were fevers really so deadly to humans? He began to pace, his tail lashing. Had he his full power, he could cure her in an instant with but a touch, but now… His hands balled into fists, enraged at his own impotence. He was only just beginning to untangle his own feelings for her—would the gods really take her from him now? Hadn’t he suffered enough for them?

No, there had to be something he could do. She’d only just fallen ill, so perhaps there was a way to stop the disease from progressing before it was too late. How was he supposed to figure out what that was, though? Most of Oraion’s knowledge of healing herbs was related to their properties on wounds and other physical injuries, not illnesses. Was there anyone he could turn to for help?

His pacing came to an abrupt stop. There was one person he could think of…

* * *

“Hyah!”

Metal bit into wood with a thunk as sword struck training dummy, shaving a chunk off of what would have been an actual person’s shoulder. Quinns wiped a sleeve across their brow: even in the crisp air of an autumn morning they were working up quite a sweat. A number of other members of the Knights honed their skills on other wooden or straw opponents and sparred against each other. Quinns stepped back and shook their shoulders loose, lining up for another go. A shoulder shot wouldn’t take down a truly dangerous opponent. They needed to do better.

They tightened their grip on their sword, assumed a fighting stance, pushed off with their back foot, and—

“Quinns!”

“Hhhgk?!”

Their strike went wide, missing the training dummy altogether. They stumbled as their sword met nothing but empty air, their shoulder protesting as they bounced off the training dummy and fell backwards, landing on their backside.

“Whoa! You okay there, Shaw?”

They heard several snickers and felt everyone’s eyes on them as they climbed back to their feet. The guy who’d called out to them wore a grin they dearly wished they could wipe off his smug face. Instead they took a deep breath and kept their voice even as they wiped the dirt off their uniform.

“I’m fine. Just lost my footing. I’m taking a break.”

Without another word Quinns sheathed their sword and went off to the side of the training grounds before sitting on a low wall.

“What the hell was that? It almost sounded like—”

“Like Oraion? Yes, hello, it is me.”

Quinns blinked as their mouth dropped open, barely stopping themself from swearing aloud.

“What. The. Fuck. Are you seriously inside my fucking head?!”

“Mm, yes and no. I’m not in your head to the point where I can read your thoughts or anything, but I am speaking directly into your mind.”

“What?! Why? HOW?”

“With great effort, and it’s only working because you’re relatively close by. Now, I don’t have time for a lesson in psionics: I need your help.”

“... What did you do now?”

“Nothing! Why do you always—? Ugh, never mind. Listen: Noelle is sick, and… I don’t know what to do.”

“Sick? Sick how?”

“I, uh, I think she has a fever? Her body is very warm. She said it wasn’t anything serious, but then she fainted. That’s- That’s not normal, right? I mean, is she going to wake up? What if she doesn’t? I-I don’t know anything about caring for sick humans. What if I do something wrong and make things worse? Gods, I can't even cook! I—”

“Whoa, slow down. Does she have any other symptoms?”

“Er, she was sneezing and coughing a bit last night and this morning.”

“Okay. Yes, it is a little concerning that she fainted, but it might just be a cold.”

“Yes, yes, she said that as well, but I don’t know what that is!”

“Oh… Uh, a cold is a pretty minor disease that humans get. It usually affects the nose and throat—coughing, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat, that kind of thing. It’s kind of like if you had an allergy attack for a week straight, and you were also tired and achy. It’s not fun, but it usually resolves itself on its own, and it’s rarely serious.”

“Then… she’s not dying?”

Quinns did not exactly trust Noelle’s pet demon, but there was no mistaking the note of hope and relief that colored his pseudo-voice in Quinns’s head. Maybe he wasn’t all bad…

“I doubt it. If she’s got a fever and she’s sweating a lot, then she might be dehydrated on top of feeling sick, so that may be why she passed out. Make sure she gets some water when she wakes up. If she doesn’t wake up after a few minutes, though…” They chewed on their bottom lip as several trains of thought fought for dominance in their mind. “Give me some time to get ready, and then I’ll come over to help. I’ll bring some medicine and food.”

They heard Oraion sigh in their mind, which was thoroughly weird.

“Thank you, Quinns. I don’t—”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Noelle.”

“I know, but still… Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get out of my head already, would you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Very well.”

Quinns waited for a few seconds but didn’t hear anything else in their head. Had the demon actually gone?

“... You still there?”

When no response came, there was a moment where Quinns wondered if they had just hallucinated the entire conversation. Noelle’s tower was several miles away—was Oraion actually able to find where Quinns was and speak to them over that distance?

They shook their head in an effort to clear it. If they dismissed Oraion’s message as a trick or hallucination, and Noelle really was in trouble, then they’d be abandoning their friend when she needed them most. If they showed up at her tower and nothing was amiss, then they could figure out what was actually going on after they knew Noelle was safe. They had to assume it was real, and that Noelle needed their help.

They made a stop at their personal quarters for the medicine—a trip to the infirmary could raise too many questions about what they needed the medicine for. Unlike the Order, the Knights of the Midnight Falcon recruited on a volunteer basis, which meant that the number of healers in their ranks was never consistent. Add to that the fact that most Knights were, like Quinns, knights errant, and the chances of a healer who could prepare medicines being at headquarters were middling at best. As such, medical supplies were carefully rationed and kept track of.

Food they could procure more easily and with fewer questions, so they went to the kitchen and started loading a basket with supplies for making soup. They may not be the best cook, but they could make some simple dishes. That was leagues better than Oraion, who even went so far as to admit he couldn't cook. Besides, how hard could soup be? You just threw a bunch of stuff into boiling water and let it sit for a while, right? Quinns grabbed some fresh meat and a bunch of different vegetables. Spices they could get from Noelle’s pantry—she always kept that well-stocked since she used the herbs for both cooking and magic.

“Oh, hey Quinns! What’re you up to?”

Quinns swore internally. There could not be a worse time for this. They blew out a breath and spoke without turning around as they tucked the last of the ingredients into the basket and covered it.

“Hey Ollie. Just grabbing a few things. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not in my way. I was just gonna get something to eat.” He let out a warm chuckle. “I kinda overslept and, uh, missed breakfast with everyone.”

“I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. I have some things to take care of—”

Quinns picked up the basket and turned around to find Oliver standing right behind them. For being such a big klutz he sure moved as quietly as a cat sometimes. Quinns took a step back with a start.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with an apologetic smile and took a step back of his own. Oliver Dietrich had a fluffy, orange cat tail that swayed behind him, while the orange-furred ears that poked out of his light blonde hair flicked. “I forget you’re allergic to me sometimes.”

“N-no, it’s, uh, it’s fine… Well, I gotta go, so, uh…”

Even having taken a step back, Oliver was still blocking Quinns from leaving the kitchen. The younger Knight showed no indication of moving out of the way, either, and instead tilted his head to one side.

“What’s the basket for? Are you having a picnic?”

“What? No, I’m just… getting some ingredients for something.”

“For what?”

“Look, it’s nothing, okay? Can I please leave?”

Oliver crossed his arms and didn’t budge. “Well, is it something or nothing?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing. I don’t have time for this, Ollie!”

“If it’s nothing, then it shouldn’t be a problem for me to see, right? So show me what’s in the basket.”

“No.”

“Show me or I’ll hug you.”

Quinns physically recoiled. They were already starting to feel itchy just being this close to him.

“What?!”

“Kidding! I’m kidding! Sorry, it’s just- agh, I’m so curious! Can’t I see what you have? Or at least tell me what you’re making! Pleeease?”

With his pleading eyes and the way his tail lashed, Oliver gave Quinns the impression of an excitable golden retriever rather than a cat.

“Oh my gods, will you go away if I do?”

“Yes! On my honor as a Knight!”

Quinns sighed and opened the basket, showing Oliver the contents. “Fine. I’m making soup, okay?”

The time Oliver spent staring silently into the basket with his brow furrowed started to border on uncomfortable.

“Uh… Can I go now?”

“You said you’re making soup?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“No, no, it’s just that…” He looked like he was struggling with some sort of internal dilemma. Or maybe he had indigestion. “Well, um, you’re not gonna be able to make a very good soup with this stuff.”

Quinns blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve only got chicken breast meat: you should really have a whole carcass if you want to get a flavorful broth. You need the bones and stuff. And these beans should really be soaked overnight before you cook them. You’d do better with rice or pasta as a starch if you’re planning to make and serve the soup right away. You’ve got some good veggies, but if you put them all in at the same time you’re either gonna end up with half of them undercooked or half of them cooked into oblivion.”

For a few moments Quinns just stood there, stunned, but then they froze up for a different reason.

“Uh… Quinns?”

Damn it, this always happened. They couldn’t move or speak, they just had to wait until—

“Etchoo!”

“Oh no! I’m sorry! I got too close!” Oliver finally backed off to the other side of the kitchen with a guilty look. His tanned skin gained an embarrassed flush.

“Whatever. -snf- It’s fine… I, uh, I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

“Oh, yeah. I have a bunch of younger brothers and sisters, and both my parents work a lot, so I often cooked for everybody. Soup is a great way to feed a crowd: it’s warm and comforting, and you can really stretch it with the right ingredients. And whenever somebody got sick, I always made ‘em chicken soup.”

Quinns frowned. Oliver was a little naive, impulsive, clumsy, dense, and irresponsible… but he wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, Oliver was quite possibly the kindest person Quinns knew in the Knights. For all of his faults, he was also loyal and surprisingly discreet, a fact that Quinns had recently discovered after Oliver had walked in on them in the shower.

“Hey, Ollie… Can I tell you something?”

* * *

It wasn’t long after Oraion finished speaking with Quinns that Noelle stirred. In all she'd been unconscious for perhaps a couple of minutes, but to the demon it felt like centuries may well have passed.

“Oh no… I fainted didn’t I?”

Oraion sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his as he softly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes. I came upstairs and found you lying on the floor of the bath.”

She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I must have worried you.”

“It did give me a bit of a fright, yes.”

“I-I’m not sure what happened. I was just running some hot water to wash up, but then I, um, started to feel dizzy. Maybe- Maybe it was the steam?”

Trying to hide it, even now? Oraion shook his head with a little sigh before looking Noelle in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

She gave a guilty start and looked away, her voice going quiet.

“I… I didn’t want you to worry even more than you already have… but I suppose it’s too late for that. I’m sorry.”

“Mistress…” Oraion leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Taking care of you is never a bother for me, all right?”

“A-all right…”

When he leaned back, it was difficult to tell if the red in her face was from blushing or fever. A slight smirk graced his lips, then he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. A cup with water appeared on the bedside table.

“Here. Quinns said you might be dehydrated, so you should drink some water now that you’re awake.”

She took the cup from his hand and propped herself up enough to take a few sips. “Oh, thank you… Wait, Quinns is here?”

“Ah, no, not yet. But they’ll be on their way soon.”

“Then… how did you talk to them already?”

“Oh, I spoke to them telepathically. When you collapsed, I…” He looked away and swallowed something harsh in his throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand what was happening. I don’t know how to care for a sick human. I-I didn’t even realize you were sick until that point. I’m sorry, I should have asked you to explain what was wrong, but after last night… I thought it best not to press you.” He took another shaky breath and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I knew that I needed help, and Quinns was the only person I could think of, so I reached out to them through their mind. Fortunately they were close enough for me to reach.”

“Telepathy… You can do that?”

He looked back at his Mistress—even in her sickbed, her eyes were sparkling with interest at the prospect of learning something new. Another smile tugged his lips, one that held more warmth than he’d felt all day.

“Not easily and not for long. Not as I am now, anyway. It takes a lot of energy to maintain, especially in the Mortal Realm.”

“Why is that?”

“Mm, because there’s less ambient mana around, I think. In the Demon Realm, damn near everything is magic to one degree or another. So if you need power, you simply snatch it out of the air or the ground or what have you and shape it to your will. Here, there is far less of that energy around, so I need to rely mostly on my own reserves and whatever I can find to supplement that. Of course, my power is not insignificant, so it is sufficient for most workings, but truthfully the lack of mana within the Mortal Realm puts me at a fraction of my power, even without this damned collar.”

“Can you teach me how to use telepathy?”

“Heh. Maybe.” He took the cup of water from her and picked up the tea he had brought up earlier. “How about this: if you’re a good girl and drink your tea, I’ll start teaching you about it.”

“Ooh, I like this bargain.” She sat up further, wincing, and put a hand to her forehead. “Ugh…”

He leaned in, as though a magnet drew him to her. “What is it? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“No, no. I’m only a bit dizzy. Just, um, give me a moment.”

Oraion reached out with his free hand and touched her arm to steady her.

“Take as much time as you need. I’m right here.”

“Thanks, Oraion. I—”

She was cut off by a series of hacking coughs, crackly and phlegmy things that made him wince to hear.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry- I- uh-oh… eh-hishoo! ehshoo! Ugh, oh gosh, I’m so sorry Oraion. -sniff- I-I don’t want to get you sick. Maybe- maybe you, um, shouldn’t stay in here.”

“Oh, nonsense. Demons don’t get sick.”

She looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

He smiled and handed her the tea. “Mistress, I am very, very old, and I have never once in my life come down with an illness. I don’t think I’m going to start now.”

Noelle looked down into the teacup, concern still writ on her face. “But… you’d never had allergies before either. How do we know for certain that you can’t, um, can’t get s-sick now too? eh-hishiih!”

Her sneezes made her hair fall forward again, so Oraion reached out and tucked it behind her ear once more. “I think you’re worrying too much, my dear Mistress, though I appreciate your concern. I will be fine, I promise.”

“Okay…” Noelle sighed and took a sip of the tea, then made a face. “Oh, it’s so bitter!”

“Right, sorry,” Oraion chuckled, “I ought to have warned you first. This blend is a little more medicinal, I’m afraid. I may not know much about human illnesses, but I do know some herbs that fight inflammation and have astringent properties, so I thought that might help. The only thing is that they are rather bitter.”

“Blech, what is in it?”

“Well, the base is black tea, then I added witch hazel, turmeric, yarrow, and, uh, lavender.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I must have sneezed a dozen times while making it, I’ll have you know.”

Noelle’s cheeks reddened considerably as she lifted the cup to her lips like she was hiding behind it. “Oh, I, um… thank you.”

Gods, she was adorable when she blushed. Oraion leaned in towards her with a smirk.

“Bet you’re sad you missed that, eh?”

Her cheeks grew even redder. “Um, m-maybe.”

“Heh. Well, next time you’ll just have to come watch me.” He gave her another quick kiss on the forehead before sitting back up. “The black tea already has a bit of bitterness, and the witch hazel and yarrow are both bitter herbs as well. Don’t force yourself to finish it if you don’t want to.”

“But I have to! I want you to teach me about telepathy!”

Oraion barked a laugh. “I only said you had to drink it, I never said you had to finish it.”

“Oh… um, I still want to, though. You made it for me, so…” Suddenly she waved a hand in front of her face. “Uh, s-sorry, I need to- nx’kishiu! Ugh, ow…”

Concern drew his brows together. “That sounded like it hurt.”

Noelle nodded with a hand on her throat. “My throat is getting sore. Ugh, that’s always the thing I hate most about being sick.”

“Hmm. I’ll see if I can figure out a remedy that might help.”

“Thank you.” Noelle pulled the blankets closer around herself with a shiver. “My, it’s chilly, isn’t it?”

“Er, I honestly find it quite pleasant. Is this why you call it a ‘cold’? Because it makes you feel cold?”

Noelle laughed. “Ah, no, you don’t always feel cold when you have a cold. Sometimes it’s unbearably hot. Right now, though, I’m freezing…” She looked down shyly as her cheeks got red again. “Um… do you think… you could hold me?”

With a gentle smile Oraion took the teacup from her shaking hands and placed it on the bedside table, then he climbed into the bed behind her and pulled her in close. Her body still felt so warm, poor thing. She snuggled into him, her back spasming against his chest with more wet coughs followed by another painful-sounding sneeze. He rubbed her shoulder as she whimpered from the abuse to her raw throat.

Even so, before long she had fallen asleep. Being ill must be awfully tiring, Oraion surmised. Her slumber seemed more restful now, at least. The demon carefully slipped out of the bed and headed back down to the ground level to wait for Quinns.

He was not surprised that they did not knock when they arrived. Quinns was never in the habit of doing so when they visited. What did surprise Oraion, however, was that the Knight had brought a new face with them. Behind Noelle’s slim, androgynous friend came a taller, broader fellow with tanned skin and an innocent bearing, as well as the orange-furred ears and tail of a cat. Quinns knew that Noelle wanted to keep the location of her tower a secret, so why was this unknown person, who also wore the uniform of a Knight, here in the first place?

Wary indignation smoldered in Oraion’s chest as he crossed his arms and straightened to his full height. “Who is this?”

The cat boy looked at him with wide eyes, which Oraion noted were of different colors: one gold, one greenish-blue.

“Whoa. Is that the guy?”

“Yeah. Oraion, this is a friend of mine, Oliver. Oliver, this is Oraion, the demon I told you about.”

“Wow, he is really hot…”

Oraion raised an eyebrow as Quinns’s cheeks colored.

“I didn’t say—! Ugh, whatever. Look, he’s trustworthy, okay?”

“Are you saying that to me or to him?” Oraion asked, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

“Both. We’re all going to have to get along right now. I know it was risky to bring someone else here, but Oliver is a good guy and he knows how to keep a secret. Most importantly, he can cook.”

Oliver’s face lit up in an excited grin. “Quinns said their witch friend is sick, so I’m gonna make soup!” He strolled up to Oraion as though they were already fast friends and held out his hand. The cat boy was only shorter than he was by a few inches. “They already told me you’re not bad guys, so it’s nice to meet you! I’m Oliver Dietrich, First-Rank Knight of the Midnight Falcon.”

Oraion looked down at the young man’s hand for several seconds before slowly reaching out to take it in his own. “You do know it’s usually your job to hunt creatures like myself, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not always so black and white, y’know? It’s one thing when a Devourer is terrorizing a trade route, but you’re just here trying to live your life, right? You’re not hurting anybody. Far as I’m concerned, no one back at headquarters needs to know about you guys.”

“How do you know we haven’t hurt anyone? You’ve only just met me, and you haven’t even met my Mistress.”

He beamed. “Because you’re Quinns’s friends, of course! I trust them, so I know I can trust you.”

“I see. How… refreshingly forthright.”

Despite his mistrust of the newcomer, Oraion felt a twinge of guilt. Would the young Knight still think the same if he knew what Oraion had done to those men from the village only the previous night? Even if they deserved it…

“Oh hey, you have a tail too! All right, welcome to the Tail Club! Man, yours is way bigger than mine.”

Quinns pinched the bridge of their nose, and Oraion heard them mutter. “Oh my gods…” They then raised their voice to full volume. “Okay, I think that’s enough with the pleasantries. Where’s Noelle? Did she wake up?”

“She did, fortunately. Now she's resting in her room.”

They nodded and lifted a basket they carried. “I brought some medicine, so I’ll go ahead and take that up to her.”

Oraion stepped in front of them and held out a hand. “Allow me. You can show our new friend here to the kitchen.”

“Uh, why don’t you show him the kitchen? You live here, you know where everything is.”

Oraion’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh, it’s not very difficult to figure out. Besides, I hardly touch the cooking equipment, so I can’t say I really know my way around.”

A scowl crossed Quinns’s face. “Yeah, well, I know more about administering medicine than you, since you outright admitted that you don’t know how to care for sick people, so I should be the one to take it to her.”

Oraion took a step closer to them. “You know, it occurs to me that Noelle had only just fallen asleep when I left the room. We should probably let her rest. So, why don’t you just tell me how to use the medicine and leave it with me, and I’ll make sure she gets it when she wakes up.”

Quinns stepped closer in turn. “Now listen: Oliver and I came all this way to—” They cut off suddenly mid-sentence and looked around the room with an expression of mild but increasing alarm. “Uh… Where’s Oliver?”

* * *

Elegant music swept through a pillared hall lit by glimmering crystal chandeliers. Dancers in splendid finery spun and twirled in time with the tune. Usually Noelle would feel out of place at such a lavish event, but now she was dressed in an exquisite gown of blush pink, the full skirt trailing behind her in a train embroidered with hundreds of flowers. The trailing sleeves hung off her bare shoulders, and, with the plunging neckline, created the perfect canvas for showing off her beautiful necklace of sparkling diamonds. Her hair was done up in perfect ringlets instead of her usual messy curls, set with a glittering hairpiece. She felt just like a princess, and lo: there, on the balcony that overlooked the dance floor, stood the Prince.

He gazed out over the hall of dancers with crimson eyes, his blood red hair pulled back in a high ponytail that trailed past his shoulders. He was just as she imagined him, dressed in a fine coat of burgundy and gold over a lovely silk shirt and vest in ivory. As though drawn by some unknown force, his alluring eyes turned to her, locking with her own, and widened in amazement at her beauty. His full lips turned up in a radiant smile, and he extended his hand, beckoning her to come to him.

Elation filled her breast as she lifted her skirt and crossed the hall of dancers, still spinning and twirling like so many clockwork dolls. She began to ascend the stairs to the balcony where the Prince awaited her, when her path was abruptly blocked by a large, orange cat. It regarded her with strange eyes of different colors, one a sort of teal and the other yellow, as it lashed its fluffy tail at her. The motion snared her attention. That tail looked awfully soft and fluffy…

She reached out and touched the cat’s tail, running her fingers through its fur, which to her delight was just as soft as she’d hoped. There was something she was supposed to be doing, wasn’t there? The cat was so soft and warm, though.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you and all, but could you let go of my tail?”

“Huh?”

Did the cat just talk to her?

“I-it’s just that it’s kind of, uh, sensitive…?”

Noelle blinked her sleep-gummed eyes as the vision of the ballroom faded away, to be replaced by the far more ordinary sight of her bedroom, bathed in the sunlight of early afternoon. What was not ordinary, however, was the strange young man in Knight attire standing next to her bed with a bright red blush on his cheeks. Indeed, he did have cat ears and a fluffy, orange tail attached to him as well, the latter of which was currently clutched in her hand.

She shrieked and dropped the man’s tail before crawling as far back as she could in the bed without falling on the floor.

“Wh-who are you?! Wh-what– What are you doing in my bedroom?!”

“Oliver!”

Quinns came bursting into the room with Oraion fast at their heels. The demon grabbed the cat-eared man by the shoulder and wrenched him away from the side of Noelle’s bed with a snarl before placing himself between them. He even went so far as to spread his wings.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing, coming in here?”

“I-I’m sorry! I just- I wanted to- to check on her! That’s all, I swear!”

“Damn it, Ollie! Why did you go off on your own?” Quinns stepped in front of him, Oliver apparently, and guided him back another step a bit more gently than Oraion had. Their voice, though quieter, was no less irate, however. “I took a big risk bringing you here, and I vouched for you. Do you know how this makes me look?”

“I said I’m sorry! I-I promise I wasn’t gonna do anything bad! I was just…” He sighed. “I was really, really curious. I’ve never met a witch before, and… Well, then you two started arguing about who was gonna come up with the medicine, and I figured, y’know, somebody should go check on her. Besides, I… I didn’t wanna lose my chance.”

Quinns made an exasperated sound. “Lose your chance? What are you– Wait, do you mean to meet Noelle? Why would that even happen?”

“I-I don’t know… If you didn’t get to bring the medicine up, I guess I thought… maybe I wouldn’t get to come up either.” He looked down at the floor and scuffed it with the toe of his boot, cat ears drooping. “I’m so, so sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do.”

“You certainly have the right of it there, Cat Boy,” Oraion snapped as his wings folded and vanished once more, “Now get out, before I throw you out.”

Quinns held up a hand. “All right, calm down. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh, really? And how do you know he isn’t simply playing dumb? How do you know he hasn’t been planning all along to sneak up here for the chance to take out a witch?”

Oliver looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. Noelle recalled his appearance when she had first woken up, with his blushing face and the way he had politely asked her to let go of his tail.

“It’s all right, Oraion. I don’t think he was going to hurt me.”

Her Servant turned to her with an incredulous look.

“You can’t be serious. You’re all right with a man barging into your bedroom like that?”

“Well, n-no, but he apologized, and, um, I believe he’s sincere. I would appreciate it, though, if someone could explain to me what he’s doing here.”

“I brought him, Noelle.” Quinns took a step towards her with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry—I know you don’t want people to know where you live, but I swear, all of this nonsense aside, Oliver really is a good guy. He’s just… a little naive and impulsive sometimes. I brought him along because, um, I really wanted to bring you some soup, but… I-I don’t know how to make it, and… he does.”

With all of them crowded in her bedroom, and between Quinns looking chagrined, Oraion’s incensed protectiveness, and Oliver’s crestfallen, drooping cat ears and tail, Noelle couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course that just led her to start coughing again.

“Oh, right, the medicine.” Quinns shoved the basket they were holding into Oliver’s arms. “Take this down to the ground floor and into the kitchen, okay? And wait for me there—don’t wander off again, please.”

The other Knight nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you down there. And, um, I’m sorry again, Miss Noelle. It was nice to meet you.”

“Er, likewise?” She gave him a little wave as Oliver left the room.

Quinns reached into their belt pouch and produced a little bundle wrapped in cloth, which they then handed to Oraion. The demon looked at the bundle in his hands as though he was not expecting to receive it.

“Here: these are the medicines. They were prepared by our own healers in the Knights, so they should be pretty effective. Go ahead and open it, and I’ll explain what each one is.”

“Ah. Right…”

As Oraion unwound the tie that held the wrappings in place, Quinns turned to Noelle.

“Noelle, you’ll probably want to listen to this too…” They squinted. “What happened to your lip?”

“Huh? Oh…” Her hand went to the split on her lip, which had scabbed over but was still rather swollen. “Um, I must have hurt it when I fell earlier.”

“Huh. I see…” They did not seem convinced, but they didn’t press the issue, to Noelle’s relief. They didn't need to know about the men who attacked her.

They instructed Oraion and Noelle on when and how each medicine was to be administered. There was a pill for fever that should be taken twice a day, morning and night; a tincture that would speed the healing process that could only be taken once per day or else it could cause unpleasant side effects as the body tried to heal itself too rapidly (the worst of which, Quinns explained with their usual grim decorum, was coughing up blood because your body produced too much). Lastly, there was an oil that could be applied to the neck and chest, which contained a number of pungent-smelling botanicals that worked to clear a stuffy head. One whiff immediately set Oraion sneezing, of course.

Once they had finished going over the medicines and ensured Noelle got her first doses, Quinns and Oraion both left her room and headed back down towards the first floor to meet up with Oliver.

“So…” Quinns spoke up from behind Oraion as they passed the library. “Do you want to tell me what happened to Noelle’s lip?”

Oraion’s hands briefly formed fists at his sides, the knuckles popping.

“Some loathsome bullies in town happened to her.”

Quinns voice rose in alarm. “What?”

Oraion sighed. “She went to town on her own. I know I should have accompanied her, but… I had something I needed to take care of here. When she returned, it was clear she’d been beaten, and she confirmed as much.”

“Did she say who it was? What they looked like?”

“No, but I…”

A moment of tense silence passed before Quinns spoke, their voice already turning accusatory. “You what?”

“I found them later.”

Quinns grabbed Oraion by the arm, stopping him.

“What do you mean you ‘found them’? What did you do?”

Oraion lifted his chin. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re asking. But I did ensure they would regret their actions.”

Quinns pressed their lips together and took a deep breath. “Look: I understand, and I don’t necessarily disagree with what you did, but please tell me that you did it in your human form and not looking like, well, a demon.”

Oraion wrenched his arm away. “I felt the message would be more effective if I used my true form. “

“Shit… Oraion, you…” They sighed. “I really, really hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, man. I truly do, because if the Inquisition gets wind of a demon around here, then there won’t be anything I, or anyone else, can do to stop them from coming looking for you.”

Oraion scoffed. “I think I can handle a few humans coming after us. Besides, you know how well-hidden this place is. They’ll be lucky to even find us here.”

“Yeah… Well. Let’s hope that’s true.”

They shook their head once and pushed past him on the stairs. With great effort, Oraion managed not to roll his eyes as he followed them down. Quinns worried overmuch at the best of times, and this was no exception. No mortal could stand against a Demon Lord. Let anyone try to harm his mistress again; they would be shown the error of their ways with swift and terrible judgment.

Once the soup had been prepared, Quinns had the good sense to escort themself and Oliver out, to the latter’s obvious disappointment. He was calling back to Oraion even as Quinns was pushing him out the door.

“Um, it was really nice to meet you! Thanks for having me over! A-and I really hope Miss Noelle feels better soon!”

The door closed behind them both with a heavy thud, and Oraion shook his head. Something was not right with that boy.

When he arrived back upstairs with a steaming bowl of soup, he found Noelle nodding off while sitting up in bed. Her head popped up with a start when she heard him enter, and Oraion couldn’t help but chuckle. She was too cute, with her flushed cheeks and slow, sleepy blinking.

“Oh, um, is that the soup?”

“It is.” Oraion placed the bowl down on the bedside table and flashed Noelle a smirk. “Shall I feed it to you?”

The deepening of her blush drew his smirk into a grin as she frantically waved her hands in front of her.

“Ah, n-no! No, no, no! That’s- that’s quite all right. I can, um, feed myself. Thank you.”

“Heh. As you wish.”

She must have been hungry, for though she started eating the soup slowly, she soon made short work of the rest. Oraion sat on the edge of the bed and watched her silently, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. He must make time to study mortal diseases. Humans were such fragile creatures. This time it was a minor ailment, but what if one day she contracted a more serious affliction?

She finally noticed him looking and gave an awkward laugh.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

“No. I’m simply admiring how lovely you are.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m certain I look awful.”

“Never. You’re always lovely to me.”

She hid her face behind her hands with a sound that was part groan, part giggle.

“Stop! You’re making me blush!”

“I know. It’s delightful.”

“Ugh, you!”

Noelle gave him a little shove with another peal of laughter, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. Oraion’s smug grin faltered, and he reached out to rub her back with an anxious touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No- no, I- hh’kchiuh! htshhiuh! Ooh… I-I think I just need to rest.”

“Then… allow me to keep you company, at least.”

He climbed into bed next to her, enfolding her in his embrace and holding her tight against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and basked in her scent, in her closeness. Noelle Violette. His Mistress. He cared about her. He could admit that much. To himself, anyway. But whether that feeling was a result of their contract or genuine affection… He wasn’t certain, and he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the woman in his arms made him happy, and he wanted to do everything in his power to do the same for her.

If that was love, well… perhaps that wouldn’t be so terrible, after all.

#accidental mistress #oraion the allergic incubus #noelle the awkward witch #knight errant quinns #cat boy ollie #snzblr #snz #snz kink #snz ocs #sneeze kink #snzfic #sickfic #snzfucker #snezblr

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gwilin-stay-winnin · 9 months

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sooo i'm supposed to finishing up some office work right now. however :3 i saw a post with a few 'get to know your character' questions and i couldn't help answering them for gwilin!!

tagging @ladytanithia

questions by @wisteria-lodge

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Your character's go-to drink order?

Gwilin will drink almost anything, even liquors manufactured under questionable standards of cleanliness, but he'll usually opt for some plain old mead. The spicier/fruitier, the better. When he's alone, he likes to sip on Bosmeri brandy and fill up his sketchbook.

Their grooming routine?

Gwilin never learned how to shave properly. He always gets at least one nick or cut, when he does, so he'll only do it once Wilhelm, Lynly or Temba start bugging him by saying he's giving the greybeards a run for their money.

His hair is very precious to him. He never cuts it because he likes to think about who he was when his body was growing each part of its length, like it's a diary of who he is. He only washes it with water, and likes to take his sweet time in the river to really soften up and soothe his scalp with his fingers. Conversely, he's always been insecure about how stinky his sweat is, so he sometimes goes a little overboard with the scrubbing and ends up drying out his skin. But the upside is he always reeks of lavender, which is his favorite smell :)

What is their most expensive purchase? Where does their disposable income go?

One time, when he was eighteen, he bought a new millstone for the family farm when an earthquake cracked the old one in half. He had to use the money that he'd been saving up to buy his brother a nice robe for his wedding.

It's very likely Gwilin has never had income that can be categorized as 'disposable'. He makes enough to cover his basic needs and a fresh set of clothes every now and again, but that's pretty much it. The few items he has treated himself with in the past are books and drawing materials. Most of these he gets as gifts from Wilhelm, though.

Any scars? Tattoos?

Tons. Farm work is dangerous as hell. His hands, as well as a decent chunk of the rest of his body, have been cut, bruised, crushed, singed, or stung. His least favorite chore on the farm was harvesting the barley (because of the bugs), and roasting it once it was malted (because of the heat coming off the stoves).

When was the last time they cried? What was the context?

Gwilin will see a bug he really likes and cry over it. He had a very loving childhood and his parents always encouraged him to express his feelings, and warned him that repressing them is a recipe for disaster. The last time he cried was because he felt ashamed for having taken so long to write to his siblings.

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest, or only child?

He is the second youngest of twelve siblings. He feels closest with those who were born around the same time he was; his older brothers and sisters are kind of like distant cousins he doesn't know all that well. His younger sister, Winthir, was a real pain in his ass when he was growing up, and his next oldest sister, Suri, and next oldest brother, Greviil, are his best friends in all of Nirn.

Describe the shoes they're wearing.

His shoes are form-fitting, calf-height, brown leather boots made of goatskin. They are extremely comfortable, which is important for him because he works on his feet most of the day. He'd rather wear a cheap, roughspun tunic and itchy drawers if it means his feet are comfy.

Where do they sleep? What is it like?

Anywhere; Gwilin could fall asleep on a septim. But his usual sleeping arrangements are very modest: a little tufted flax in a rough linen pillowcase, a simple woolen blanket, and a glass of water on his nightstand for when he gets those sleepy midnight bouts of thirst.

Their favorite holiday/celebration/tradition?

Gwilin's parents worried a lot about their kids standing out for the wrong reasons in Cyrodiil, so they always tried to celebrate those holidays most recognized throughout the Empire at home, and purposefully avoided teaching their kids specifics about Bosmeri holidays. But Gwilin was never big on any of them. He especially disliked Saturalia.

When he was fourteen, he read about the Bosmeri Hog-Heart Festival in a book, and was immediately enamored by the idea. Ever since, he likes to imagine what patterns of ocher he would streak his body with and what ornaments his crush would wear while he went out on the hunt, or vice versa. The thought of being tenderly gifted the corpses of feral hogs makes him melt. He is a romantic, after all :D

What objects to they always carry around with them?

Definitely the band he uses to tie his hair up. His work gloves. A snack, preferably cheese. A hunting knife. Some spare pieces of linen or gauze if he gets a splinter or cuts himself at the mill. And a cool piece of polished malachite his brother gave him for his thirtieth birthday.

#tesblr #gwilin #writing meme #rentfree

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tess-eh · 3 months

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Blog Post #4

African American Studies 112A

Professor Due

02/09/2024

Blog Post #4

This week’s works, the films “Tales from the Hood” “Eve’s Bayou”, and the story “Wet Pain” all exhibit examples of Black Horror, and as a reader/viewer, I have a different opinion about each of these works. “Wet Pain” needed to be broken down for me after reading it, which was what I didn’t like about the story– however, the meaning behind it, being the witness of the deterioration of someone you care about, made me enjoy this story more because of the deeper meaning behind it. My favorite kind of horror film is when you kind of have to work for the meanings, or when they are not so obvious about it. I enjoy these types of stories/films more because once you discover or learn about the meanings it opens your eyes to the connections throughout the entire story that were there all along. In “Wet Pain”, it was that racism is the infection, where Dean, a white man, becomes more and more infected with this racist insanity. This story feels more real than some of the other black horror stories we’ve had, because with this one there wasn’t a lot of fictional horror, it was very much real. That’s what I also enjoyed about this story, is that it took place in New Orleans right after Hurricane Katrina. This real-life event turned into a fantasy horror story allows the readers to relate on a different and more personal level to the story, which is what I liked most about “Wet Pain”.

I personally liked “Tales from the Hood” more than “Eve’s Bayou” for a similar reason, which is that “Tales from the Hood” was easier to follow, and at the end, all of the stories, there were 4 stories/parts to the film, lined up and connected together, and everything made sense. Whereas “Eve’s Bayou” left me questioning some aspects of the film because the family held so many secrets within the movie and within themselves as characters. One of the only things we get full closure on in the film is at the very end, the last scene is Cecily and Eve talking one to one by the lake, where Eve had gaslit Cecily earlier for claiming that her sexual assault with their father was fake. At this last scene, Eve confirms with Cecily that her sexual assault was real, and Eve believes her, truly, giving the viewer some sense of closure on this part of the film.

“Tales from the Hood” showcased a bunch of important themes, most notably was Police Brutality, and Retribution, through each story. In the first story of the film, ‘Rogue Cop Revelation’, is where we see white cops beating up a black man, and Clarence Smith, a new young black cop, stands by as it happens, which encompasses him with guilt later in the story, leading him to insanity. This was very powerful to watch, because this story, like all of the other stories in this film, displayed very real stories that certainly happen in real life. That is what makes this film so scary to watch because these all have really happened in some way or another, the film just adds some fiction into it to make it more dramatic. My favorite story in the film was ‘Boys Do Get Bruised’, because this story of domestic violence not only had a satisfying ending, with the abuser getting killed, but the little boy Tyrone who was being abused by his ‘stepdad’ was the one to kill him just by using his hand. He held power and this man’s life literally in the palm of his hands by the crumpled-up piece of paper with a drawing of his ‘stepdad’, making this a clean murder. This follows with the theme of retribution because it allows characters or real-life people who would otherwise not have any power, like little Tyrone, to suddenly hold all of the power and use it as revenge.

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keysmashingfantasies · 3 years

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Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N: i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad).

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie!

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”. After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

#niragi loving hours in this mf house #niragi x reader #niragi fic #niragi suguru #suguru niragi #niragi imagine #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland fic #niragi suguru x reader #suguru niragi x reader

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clairecrive · 3 years

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can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fluff #nikolai lanstov blurb

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 19 (Part Two)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

My focus is on Gavin x MC interactions, so content relating to the plot will be in bullet-points :>

Part One: here

[ Notable Scene: Infiltrating the STF ]

MC: ...but aren’t you relieved from your duties?

Gavin seems to guess the words I haven’t said, and he lets out a soft, unnatural cough.

Gavin: I know every patrolling post in the STF, patrol timings and angles of the surveillance cameras. I can ensure that we’d get in successfully without anyone noticing. However, since I only saw his face from four years ago...

MC: I’ll go with you. As long as I see his face, I can point him out to you.

Gavin has a teasing smile in his eyes, perhaps seeing the urgency written on my face.

Gavin: In that case, let’s go for a walk in STF tonight.

Late at night, Gavin and I infiltrate the STF through an outer wall.

Pale moonlight outlines a misty halo around him, softening his edges.

He finds an open window with ease. Lifting me up, he lets me jump through the window before leaping in himself.

This appears to be a utility room.

MC: Captain Gavin’s really good at this.

Gavin: This is the STF. I won’t bump into anyone even with my eyes closed, much less the walls.

Before Gavin finishes speaking, Tang Chao walks in with a bowl of instant noodles, a wicked smile on his face while he pushes the door open.

Tang Chao: Instant noodles must be eaten on the sly. Otherwise, I might-

When Tang Chao sees Gavin, he pauses in his footsteps.

In this short span of time, we look at each other speechlessly, the only thing left being the steam rising from the instant noodles.

All of a sudden, Tang Chao rolls his eyes, his body doing a 180 degree turn. With the instant noodles in hand, he steps out of the door before closing it.

Gavin: ...

MC: ...didn’t you say you wouldn’t bump into anyone even with your eyes closed?

Moonlight streams in from the window, illuminating the side of his face clearly. I turn my head stiffly, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs slightly.

Gavin: Tang Chao is slacking off.

Tang Chao’s slightly frantic voice can be heard indistinctly.

Tang Chao: Since Captain hasn’t been around, there were changes to the duty roster... Please save me. That was so awkward. Oh no, I don’t want to run laps...

I stare at Gavin quietly. His expression has returned to normal, as though nothing happened.

Gavin: It’s okay, let’s continue.

Gavin listens to the surroundings calmly. After a moment, he pulls me out of the utility room.

Suddenly, a set of uniform footsteps can be heard from behind us.

STF Agent: ...

Even before we can turn, the regular footsteps turn into small, scattered steps, akin to busy bees fleeing in disarray. The surroundings slowly return to silence.

MC: Have we been completely exposed...?

With a soft cough, a reddish hue climbs up the tips of Gavin’s ears.

Gavin: It doesn’t count if we aren’t caught.

Eli (through the speakers): Hey hey hey.

Eli’s voice suddenly drifts from the STF’s broadcast speakers. Gavin carefully pulls me over to hide in a shadowy corner of the corridor.

Eli (through the speakers): ...due to some indescribable reasons, all the surveillance cameras in the STF will take a break for 15 minutes. If a certain colleague wishes to go somewhere or do something, please do so quickly.

Gavin: ...

MC: Pfft.

Seeing Gavin’s slightly speechless expression, I can’t help but laugh aloud.

This person is protected by many people who are unafraid of anything, isn’t he?

After this, we occasionally bump into familiar faces. However, they seem to have made a prior arrangement, and choose to ignore us.

Gavin seems to hesitate on whether he should make an explanation, but it eventually turns into one sigh after another.

In the end, we “very successfully” step into the room with the “Eye in the Sky” system.

Using the system, Gavin retrieves footage from the football match, and MC is able to identify the wheelchair-bound man, Du Wen

Gavin then searches up information on him as well as his approximate whereabouts

The both of them find him in a small alley

He admits that he’s the founder of the Fulcrum Charity Organisation, and has been assisting Gray Rhino in whatever he can

He claims that he means them no harm. To prove this, he allows MC to read his memories

Although they find the circumstances too convenient and deliberate, MC reads his memories because why not

She notices that certain memories have been stored in a misty bubble, just like the “firewall” she installed for Gavin earlier

Still, she searches for memories from the New Years Change Incident

She "sweeps” these memories into her own mind, and confirms that he’s indeed a victim of the incident

Gavin asks how he should contact Du Wen in the future, and the latter says he’d appear during a safe time

Once they leave, MC tells Gavin that they can use the Golden Apple 2 to display the memories she saw

Gavin says that Du Wen’s words aren’t trustworthy, but at least they have some leads that could further guide them to the truth

The next afternoon, MC learns from Kiki that the exhibition hall will be re-opening the next day. So she contacts Gavin and plan to sneak into it that same night

When she arrives, there’s someone else with Gavin - an elderly man with a missing left arm

She finds him familiar

[ Notable Scene: MC meets Captain Yan ]

Gavin: MC, this is the old policeman, Captain Yan. Today, he’s mainly here to cover for us. Captain Yan, this is...

Captain Yan: No need for introductions. You’ve mentioned her many times.

Before I can express my shock, Captain Yan sends me a warm gaze.

Captain Yan: MC, we met once at the hospital. I always hear your name from this young lad, so I’m pretty familiar with you.

Captain Yan smiles teasingly, then gives Gavin a meaningful look.

Captain Yan: If he ever bullies you, remember to tell me. As his senior, I’ll give him a proper scolding.

MC: O-okay! Thanks, Uncle Yan.

Gavin: Cough. We’ll leave the pleasantries for next time. We should go now.

With this, Gavin speeds up and walks forward, a faint red hue climbing up the tips of his ears.

Seeing Captain Yan’s grin, I hurriedly lower my head and follow after him.

MC: Gavin, wait for me!

With Captain Yan keeping watch, MC and Gavin use the Golden Apple 2

In the simulated memories of the New Years Change Incident, Gavin notices post-injection bruises on Du Wen’s hand

Du Wen and those around him don’t seem to know what’s going on, but they’re frightened due to the sounds of gunshots and explosions outside

A handful of Evolvers revolt, but are shot to death by officers dressed in NW uniforms

Du Wen flees, and the both of them follow after him

In the end, they watch as a beam crushes the lower part of Du Wen’s body

At the same time, a drone in the simulation appears to take aim at MC

[ Notable Scene: Gavin’s Protection ]

Gavin: MC!

An urgent exclamation drifts to my ears. Turning to the voice, I see Gavin lunging towards me involuntarily.

Those amber eyes grow large in front of me. In the next second, I’m enveloped in Gavin’s arms.

My cheek is pressed tightly to his chest, and powerful heartbeats echo at my ear.

His heart is beating very quickly - so quickly that my heart subconsciously matches its frequency.

“Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.”

It’s as though these powerful heartbeats are the only things left in the entire world.

In every difficult or dangerous situation, I’m always able to hear this sound.

It’s as though they have melded into my bloodstream, becoming a kind of instinct.

Gavin: It’s fine, there's no need to leave the system.

Gavin’s hand is by his ear. After stating his judgement calmly, he looks at me.

Gavin: Are you okay?

MC: Gavin, this is fake.

Gavin: Mm. But my body seems to have reacted a little faster than my brain.

His amber eyes reflect the blood-coloured sky, filled with worry and fret that he hasn’t had the time to shed off.

Gavin: Whether it’s real or an illusion, I don’t want you to get hurt in front of me.

MC: But they would simply pass through my body.

Gavin: Not even if they pass through.

He speaks unyieldingly.

MC: Okay, whatever you say.

Gavin: Let’s get out of here.

They continue looking at the chaos and hear the sounds of crying and screaming

Gavin appears composed, but the fingertips holding onto MC are quivering, as though he's barely suppressing his anger at the injustice before him

The scene shifts, and what appears before them is a NW laboratory

Du Wen has thick tubes stuck all over him, and he’s submerged in a gigantic apparatus

MC traces that the memory is from 2 months prior to the New Years Change Incident

A senior official from NW walks in, and he seems to be in charge of a secret experiment

[ Notable Scene: Gavin and MC’s Future Father-in-law]

His eyes are steadfast and icy, as though nothing can sway him.

And nothing can destroy or obstruct him.

Gavin stands rooted to the spot. He watches as the man draws closer and closer to himself-

And walks straight through him.

Gavin has already matured into someone whose height is on par with his. They have incredibly similar features, and they even share an identical straight and powerful gait.

However, Gavin doesn’t turn around. His entire body remains stiff until the world gradually gathers into a patch of darkness.

He doesn’t move. The faint white light causes him to look pale.

Slowly, he lowers his head, covering his eyes.

I stand behind him, not saying a word.

That senior official is Gavin’s father.

Once they’re out of the Golden Apple 2, Captain Yan notices how solemn Gavin looks

Gavin takes Captain Yan and MC to a simple apartment to talk

Gavin fills Captain Yan in on what they saw

Captain Yan and Gavin start discussing what happened, and MC heads over to the window to look at the view despite the best view being Gavin

Gavin brings up the laboratory, and Captain Yan asks if he saw “that person”. Gavin grits his teeth and says, “I saw him.”

[ Notable Scene: The End of Chapter 19 ]

Gavin: MC, I’ll send you home.

By the time Gavin comes up from behind me, Captain Yan has already left.

I notice Gavin’s tense lower jaw. He seems to be doing his best to appear natural in front of me.

To appear as though he doesn’t care.

Seeing this person before me, I feel my heart being clenched tight.

MC: Gavin, I want to go somewhere before heading home. Could you accompany me?

When we leap over the walls of Loveland High, confusion flashes across his eyes.

The gentle evening breeze brushes his fringe, and his figure is immersed in patches of moonlight.

It’s been a very long time since I last returned to this place. But images from this place always surface in my mind.

The field, the stairs, the roof, the gymnasium late at night, and the infirmary.

During that period of time I had re-lived, I wanted nothing more than for time to move a little faster.

So that I’d be able to reach that day when I could walk over to him a little sooner.

However, this year, I’m reluctant to let time pass by as quickly.

During the time in which the wind blew by, that young man filled all my memories related to youth.

That’s how reluctant I am.

That’s why I’ve been walking slowly on purpose. Even so, in just the blink of an eye, he disappeared in the breeze of youth.

Pulling on Gavin’s hand, we walk along the field, and walk into the depths of the forest behind the school.

MC: Gavin, I think you’re angry.

I turn my head to the side to look at him. Gavin simply furrows his brows slightly, and it’s clear that he feels a little uneasy.

MC: You don’t need to pretend that nothing’s bothering you in front of me. Anger isn’t something you should feel ashamed of.

Gavin: I...

He opens his mouth, but something sews it up again.

A fierce wind suddenly rises, causing countless fallen leaves to swirl in the air.

They are reminiscent of incessant, agonised screams.

Gavin: I... just can’t understand. There are clearly many other methods. There are many other choices.

His words are blended into the wind, suppressed and pained.

I don’t turn my head to look at his expression. I simply stand beside him quietly, our fingers interlaced together, standing in the middle of the fierce gale.

With the flow of time, the fierce gale becomes calmer. In the end, it morphs into a gentle breeze, brushing our fringes.

Gavin: MC, thank you.

I shake my head, turning my head towards him.

MC: Gavin, do you know something? The reason why I brought you back here was to tell you that I hope your beautiful memories won't simply be confined to high school. Beautiful things should continue, and never end.

While saying this solemnly, my heart speeds up uncontrollably.

Gavin’s pupils quiver slightly, and he squeezes my hands tightly.

Gavin: Thank you.

Very softly, he repeats these words.

MC: Let’s walk around a little more before heading home.

I chuckle happily, my footsteps becoming incomparably lighter.

All of a sudden, my palm feels empty -

It’s as though Gavin released my hand.

Feeling puzzled, I turn around to find that Gavin had simply shifted his hand behind his back.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin: ...nothing.

When the girl’s confusion is dispelled and she continues walking forward, Gavin lowers his head to look at his vanished right arm, his expression composed.

As compared to his right hand disappearing the last time, the scope seems to have grown larger this time.

Gavin follows behind the girl calmly, contemplating quietly.

His time might be shorter than he imagined.

Gavin chuckles softly, the corners of his lips hooking upwards slowly.

Gavin: MC.

I pause in my footsteps and turn around, realising that we’re several footsteps apart.

MC: Gavin, what’s wrong?

Gavin: I just received news from Captain Yan. I might have to leave for a while.

MC: So suddenly?

Gavin: Sorry. After sending you home, I’ll set out.

He looks at me apologetically, as though suppressing something once again.

After returning home, I quickly remove my shoes and rush to the window to search for that figure.

Guessing that I’d do this, Gavin doesn’t leave immediately. He stands downstairs, waiting for me.

A gust of wind burrows in through the window, as though carrying with it slight reluctance as it makes gentle twirls around me again and again.

I lean my palm against the glass, wanting to say another farewell to him.

MC: Gavin, you must return safely.

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altariaas · 3 years

Text

your face all made up (living on a screen)

Adrien knows, to some degree, that it’s the important things that are the most important to say out loud, but it would help to know that someone’s actually listening. It would also help if things would stop breaking every time he acknowledged his emotions, too.

i’ve taken a total of three steps into this fandom but sure, let’s skip to season 4 and fall face-first into the Angst™, as it goes. I just think Adrien should get a little raw powers of destruction sneaking out of control in his daily life. as a treat. Post-Rocketear so lots of spoilers etc.

Adrien walks home from the fight against Nino’s akuma with a raging headache, a developing case of massive anxiety, and a purpling bruise the size of a basketball on his shin.

The last one isn’t actually from the akuma. Those injuries got neatly miraculoused away, along with Nino’s heartbroken betrayal. No, the bruise is from Adrien’s incredibly stupid attempt to funnel his tornado of emotions into something concrete by kicking the front gate, only to completely miss and slam his shin into the solid steel rungs instead, sending him stumbling back in a pained fit of trying to think up creative curse words that won’t result in his father murdering him if he overhears.

Metaphorically, of course. Father’s not a murderer, except when it comes to the slow death of Adrien’s social life.

Though he really…can’t entirely blame that on Father, either.

And there comes the developing case of anxiety. Adrien swallows, a feeble attempt to banish the souring feeling in his stomach and the aching tightness in his chest. He wraps his arms around himself, staring up at the mansion and fighting the increasing urge to run. The inside of his cheek stings as he chews at it, already abused from how hard he’d bitten there earlier when Nino had started making…observations. Accusations. Wildly misdirected statements that definitely aren’t any insight to how Nino truly feels about what might be the truest version of Adrien’s slowly splintering self, if he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Overly passionate, Father’s voice echoes hollowly somewhere in the back of his head. Prone to fits of drama, just like his mother.

Spinning abruptly on his heel, Adrien beats a steady path away from the mansion gates and toward…somewhere. Somewhere that won’t make that developing case of anxiety worse, and where no one can witness his fits of drama.

The urge to send the front camera a rude gesture in farewell is violently stifled as Adrien keeps his arms wrapped tightly around himself, like the action will keep everything in neat and perfect and safe from view. He feels more than hears Plagg rustle curiously in his front pocket, but Adrien ignores the action, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Then the sharp reminder of how it felt when Ladybug ignored him in favor of Rena Rouge comes back and bites him solidly in the guilty part of his feelings, so Adrien pats his front pocket reassuringly.

“Just taking the long way home,” he murmurs.

Plagg’s eyes are calculating, almost greener than usual as they stare at him, and Adrien feels uncomfortably perceived. Not in the cold, bug-under-a-microscope way he feels sometimes when Father looks at him, but a hot kind of uncomfortable, the way he feels when someone looks right past the Adrien Agreste mask and sees—

What? What do they see? An awkward boy stumbling back against a wall because he never learned what his real self was supposed to look like? Hollow flirting and annoying with a capital a?

Fits of drama, Adrien reminds himself. He shouldn’t take it so close to heart. Not when Nino looked so devastated, so heartbroken. Not when Ladybug’s been giving him uncomfortably clear signs that Nino might’ve been right.

“If you say so, kid,” Plagg finally replies. “But I better get that camembert sooner than later.”

A half-smile tugs at Adrien’s mouth. “Sure, Plagg.”

At least Plagg still wants him around, masks and all. It’s a small comfort, but Adrien clings to it, his arms tightening around himself. Sure, things didn’t go…wonderfully, today, but it’s not all so bad. He got slammed into a van a couple of times, and maybe a couple of busted ribs, but that’s nothing, comparatively. And sure, Father’s finding more flaws in him to coldly evaluate than usual, and Nathalie’s growing paler and sicker by the day, and Ladybug’s either freezing him out bit by bit or starting to forget about him entirely and he isn’t sure which is worse, and his schedule is slipping further and further from manageable by the day and Nino dislikes a side of him so much it sent him straight into an akuma and—

“—kid, stop!”

Adrien’s thoughts cut off abruptly as his foot catches, his sense of balance going horizontal as he stumbles, and proceeds to nearly slam the rest of him face-first into the concrete. Plagg’s sharp warning echoes in his ears as he rights himself with a panicked yelp, hopping once while frantically hoping no one was around to see — whatever that was.

“Kid,” Plagg starts, but he doesn’t finish. He’s left the front pocket, his eyes bright green as he stares at him.

Adrien blinks, shaking the slight sense of vertigo off. “Sorry, sorry, I—”

Huh. What did he do? Rubbing the back of his head, Adrien glances at the street he stumbled over. He frowns.

The culprit is a jagged, snaking tear in the concrete, half a meter deep and the length of Adrien’s arm. He stares at the spiderwebbing cracks that branch out of it, fine grains of crushed concrete already scattering in the slight wind.

Weird, he thinks. He doesn’t remember fighting Nino this far down the street. Lucky Charm should’ve fixed that, even if he did.

“Adrien,” Plagg says, and there’s an uncharacteristically cautious edge in his voice. “What was that?”

Adrien cups a hand around Plagg, running a finger over his head in apology as he draws him out of view again. “Lost in thought, I guess,” he says, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

Plagg doesn’t reply, still staring at him with a look Adrien can’t quite identify. He feels oddly disoriented, like he actually did fall and hit his head, and now it’s spinning in retaliation. Across the street in front of him, the stoplight flickers — red, then orange, then red again. It flickers out entirely, before snapping back to a bright, acidic green. Adrien rubs his eyes.

“Let’s…let’s go home,” Plagg finally says, tucking himself back in Adrien’s shirt pocket. He doesn’t entirely meet Adrien’s eyes as he does, but he curls up against his chest, solid and warm, and it’s almost enough to banish the ache that lies beneath.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “Home, then.”

————

There’s a memory Adrien has, from when he was younger. It’s one he holds tightly to his chest, tattered and frayed as it is.

He was much smaller than he is now — barely six years-old, maybe, and small enough to hide behind the large statues his mother would put funny hats on to make his father laugh. She’d done just that earlier, standing tiptoed on the staircase as she’d slipped a terrible orange bowler hat on the pretty lady Nathalie said was from Greece. Adrien had giggled behind his fingers and his father had laughed, an unfamiliar sound that’s faded in memory now, but a bright and real one nonetheless.

It had been a good day, until mother had come down with a cold during dinner and Adrien had jolted out of sleep from a nightmare about giant, ugly orange hats that snatched up his mother with their ribbon-like fingers and took her away from him forever.

He’d sprinted through the house like the horrible hat monsters from his dream were on his heels, slipping in his socks up to the cracked door of his father’s study.

He hadn’t needed to knock, then, or even schedule a meeting. He’d slid through the doorway and barreled into his father, only to be caught by strong arms and swept into his father’s lap, warm and safe from any monsters that dared to follow him here.

“I’m worried about your mother, too,” his father had said. “But it’s just a cold, you see? Nothing to go slipping and falling down the stairs about.”

He’d received nothing but a sniffle in response.

“Alright.” Fingers had pinched around his nose as his father sighed. “How about we read a story then, until you’re not so frightened? Just you and me.”

The book they’d started that night was about a prince and a planet and a rose, and Adrien still remembers the sound his father’s voice made as it resonated where Adrien’s cheek pressed against his chest, his arms holding tight and warm around him, like nothing bad could slip in from outside and hurt him.

It’s a favorite memory of his, one Adrien finds springing back to mind whenever Father gives him a smile, half-formed and distanced as they are.

Lately, though, it’s a memory that stings to think about. It makes it harder to look Father in the eye, for some reason.

————

“And like, I really can’t say this enough, but I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, Nino, it’s fi—”

“No seriously, dude, I’m really sorry, I—”

“Nino.”

His friend finally jerks out from his puddle of miserable apologies, and Adrien gives him a weary smile. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I dragged you into the boiler room then got akumatized,” Nino says, distressed. “That’s worse than like, the plot of eight different horror movies.”

“Your head was shaped like a giant blue tear, it wasn’t that scary,” Adrien assures him.

“I am ninety percent sure I remember shoving you to the floor,” Nino moans, not reassured in the least.

Part of Adrien’s mind, the part that sounds a little too much like a spurned cat whom hell hath no fury, or however the saying goes, wants to pipe up with the fact that getting shoved to the floor was five-star treatment compared to what Nino (akuma, Nino’s akuma, that’s important) had proceeded to do to him afterwards.

The bus-slamming thing had hurt.

Not as much as hurting Nino would’ve, though.

So instead, Adrien gives Nino the kindest smile he can, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says, “As if the akuma gave you the biceps to pull that off.”

“Hey,” Nino knocks their shoulders together, his guilt ridden expression easing just a bit as he gives him a half-hearted grin. “I’m ripped, bro.”

It takes Adrien a moment to reply, too busy fighting the overwhelmingly — traitor — urge to follow the warmth of contact with Nino like a starving animal. He doesn’t need to fight for too long — his brain throws everyone thinks you’re a joke at him just in time for Adrien to hunch his shoulders in and give Nino an awkward little grin of his own.

Maybe his brain’s a traitor too, though, because he doesn’t remember Nino even saying that about Chat Noir.

He thinks.

Hopes.

Actually, his brain can go sit in a corner if it’s going to keep throwing stuff like this at him. Shaking anything and everything knowledge-wise that belongs to Chat Noir from his mind, Adrien turns his attention back to the scribbled game of hangman they’ve been playing on the corner of Nino’s history notes. Group projects are supposed to be fun, anyways, especially with Nino.

“Uh, c,” he guesses.

Nino adds a single c to the blank letter spaces. Adrien squints at the paper, his mouth downturning at the suspiciously familiar arrangement he has so far.

_adia_t, ca_ef_ee, d_ea_y

“Nino,” he says, carefully.

Nino smirks. “Mm-hm.”

“If this has anything to do with perfume ads—”

“Uh-huh?”

“Then I hate you.”

Nino cackles, scribbling in the rest of the rest of the accursed phrase as Max loudly hushes him. Adrien rolls his eyes and huffs, but he’s unable to stop the small smile of amusement. It quickly fades as his words to Nino echo with an uncomfortable emphasis in his head.

You’re being stupid, he tells himself. Adrien pushes away the nagging feeling. Nino knows he’s not serious. He knows Adrien doesn’t actually hate him. Just like Adrien knows Nino didn’t mean it, when he said all that stuff about Chat Noir.

His fingers tighten around his pencil. He’s not supposed to be thinking about that. Nino apologized, to Chat Noir himself, and just because Adrien can’t get the sting out, it doesn’t mean that Nino meant anything genuine by it.

Overly dramatic, Adrien reminds himself. Way too emotional.

The ache in his chest makes itself known again with a pang, and Adrien bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at Nino from the corners of his eyes.

Maybe he should tell Nino he cares about him, just to be sure. The words form in his mind, only to catch abruptly in his throat, thick and cloying. He thinks of how thoughtlessly he’s been able to tell Father he loves him. Thinks of how easy it’s always been to tell Ladybug how much she means to him.

He thinks of how neither of them seem to like meeting him in the eyes, lately.

He swallows the words, opting to smile brightly at Nino instead. It’s probably for the best. Nino’s always been better at picking up on people’s feelings, anyways, and he doesn’t need the kind of nagging assurance Adrien does. And it’s not like Adrien’s had much luck telling people he loves them, lately. Actually, if you look at his track record, he probably hasn’t…had any luck at all.

Adrien shakes his head, shoving the coldness creeping into his chest as far to the corner of his mind as he can, and sketches out enough blank spaces on the paper to spell fake mustaches are the new sexy.

If he can still make Nino laugh, it’s fine. He wouldn’t be laughing if he thought Adrien was annoying and obnoxious.

So see? It’s fine.

————

Adrien thinks about elastics, sometimes. The stretchy, rubber kind that Mme Thurston uses to pull back the longer locks of his hair while she’s doing his makeup, tying it up in a neat little explosion on top of his head that makes him look like a blond weed. She makes it look easy, twisting the little bands around and around, until they’re tight enough to hold his hair in place.

(Adrien’s hair is always easy, of course. Chat Noir’s hair, on the other hand, would probably give Mme Thurston nightmares. Mainly because Adrien has a fun little habit of shaking his head side to side until it’s an unrecognizable blond disaster, but that’s not particularly relevant.)

(Ladybug doesn’t even need to use elastics, opting for the soft strands of ribbon that hold her pigtails in perfect place.)

Adrien doesn’t normally use elastic bands either, but he likes the way they feel when he’s nervous, stretching and rubbery, then snapping perfectly back into place, like he’d never twisted them all out of proportion at all. The way he can hook his fingers in both ends and pull and pull and pull, but they never quite snap.

Felix has a fun trick with those, when they do photoshoots together.

(When they used to.)

He’ll press a little elastic against Adrien’s arm and pull the end back, just far enough, then let it snap back into place, stinging little red marks when it slaps against skin.

“Stop it,” Adrien scowls at him, but the expression wavers. Playful isn’t a word he uses along with Felix very often, but photoshoots are always more entertaining with him, at least. Or they were, until his mother disappears, and family photoshoots grind to an utter and complete halt forever—

—just for now, his father says, until something changes, until that something happens, until that metaphorical other foot that’s always hanging over Adrien’s head finally stomps its way back to earth and demolishes him in the process—

Felix replies by stretching another elastic between his fingers, shooting it toward him this time like a little slingshot. Adrien snags it out of the air, slotting it between his own fingers to fire back. It misses by a miserable meter and a half, because at the time this conversation takes place, he and Ladybug haven’t stayed up all night practicing their aim by trying to hit the left ear of Le Stryge on Notre-Dame.

Felix snorts, snatching the elastic from the floor, and makes a show of placing the band back against Adrien’s wrist. He pulls it back with a meaningful look, like an exasperated teacher. “It’s the bounce back that hurts,” he tells him. “Not the stretching part. When it snaps back to place—” He demonstrates by releasing the band, and Adrien flinches at the tiny sting. “—that’s the part that hurts.”

Four years later, having up close and personally experienced what a shattered ribcage stabbing into your lungs feels like, Adrien wants to correct Felix on tiny little elastic bands and what actually hurts, but the point, he guesses, is that he still remembers what it felt like.

He still thinks about those elastics sometimes, and how far they can be pulled until they snap back into place. How the little rubber band can make it so far, get so close to breaking, only to snap right back to where it started.

(Chat Noir doesn’t use elastics, either.)

————

For all that Adrien will stand by stuffing the worst of his emotions into a box and never thinking about them ever as a perfectly reasonable way to go about handling things —and whatever Plagg says doesn’t count, he’s a kwami who compares emotions to cheese — Adrien really does believe in communication as key.

Living it out is just. Another thing entirely.

But Adrien’s lived his life with a cold mansion’s worth of words left unsaid, so on principle, he really does believe that if something’s important, you should say it. Maybe nobody will really listen to you, or take you seriously, but at least you’ll have said it, and maybe at some point they’ll remember you said it, and it’ll mean something to them.

But maybe that’s what stopping him this time — he just can’t decide if it’s the idea of not being listened to that scares him, or the idea of actually being heard that’s worse.

It’s not like he wants to tell Ladybug he’s upset. It’s not like he even wants to be upset.

It doesn’t change the fact that he is, kind of, a little bit, (a lot) — but again, on principle, Adrien just — he doesn’t like being upset. It’s all uncomfortable and hot and it sits on his chest like a rock, weighing heavier and heavier until he learns to get over it.

It’s only worse when he tries to say something about it, because that never works. Maybe it’s a really sucky side effect of being homeschooled for most of his life, but every time Adrien opens his mouth to tell someone he’s upset with them and here’s why, it always backfires spectacularly. There’s a weird moment where something happens and the other person says their part, and suddenly Adrien’s complaints sound so stupid he wants to crawl in a hole and hide. There’s a dizzying one-eighty and Adrien’s suddenly the one in the wrong, and the other person’s upset at him, and now he’s got to apologize before he makes it worse than he already has.

And granted, most of those other people are just Father (or Father’s tinny voice through the phone), but he’s already enough to beat the lesson in.

Metaphorically, of course. Always — always metaphorically. Adrien’s never doubted otherwise.

“Maybe I’m just that bad at arguing,” he mutters, swiping darkly at his phone screen.

“I dunno,” Nino says, his voice consoling. “I mean, you were pretty good at it when you argued me into watching that one anime the other night.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t upset with you about that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nino winks at him. “Unless your voice going all high-pitched about why Sailor Moon is the peak of animation is your default setting.”

“I wasn’t upset with you, though,” Adrien shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’m never upset with you.”

And he isn’t, really. Not even when Nino tells him, in an admittedly roundabout way, that he’s annoying and irritating and has loose and shady moral commitment to love and all its forms (or something like that).

He means, it stings, but only in the way Felix’s little rubber band snaps do. Not enough to justify picking an argument with Nino. Not to justify upsetting him, and possibly losing the one friend who’s stuck by him through the worst and actually shares stuff with him these days.

Adrien bites down on the inside of his cheek. If he’s not careful with the way his train of thought’s been steering itself lately, he’s going to accidentally show Ladybug how upset he is, and that’s—

Well, the fallout of that will hurt a lot worse than a little elastic band snap.

A lot worse than it already does, so. Back in your corner, resentful thoughts.

“Uh-huh.” There’s a quiet edge of suspicion in Nino’s voice, and Adrien stiffens, suddenly feeling horribly seen. The look Nino’s pinned on him doesn’t help at all, searching and curious and—

Concerned? Upset? Angry?

Adrien doesn’t know. He thinks it’s concern, but he’s also been thinking Ladybug’s been amused with him when she’s apparently just been annoyed, so who knows, really—

Shut up, Adrien tells his subconscious furiously. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“It’s okay, if you are,” Nino says hesitantly, perhaps having picked up on whatever storm of emotions are slipping through Adrien’s schooled expression. “Upset, I mean. At your old man or me. It’s better to talk to people upfront, y’know? Otherwise…”

Nino’s expression twists in guilt, and Adrien’s lungs feel a little like they’re shriveling up and dying. Or maybe that’s just his chest on the whole, collapsing in on itself and taking Adrien’s ability to breath right with it.

He isn’t upset. He’s not. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone upfront about it, because there’s nothing to talk about in the first place. He’s not going to be overly dramatic about this too, he’s not. He’s just— it’s just—

Is it personal? Was it something he did, that made Ladybug trust everyone else but him? Did he slip up at some point and he just — he can’t remember? She’d told him, she’d promised they were fine after New York, but maybe she’d changed her mind without telling him and decided he needed to figure out on his own where he messed up if he was ever going to be worthy of her trust agai—

“I’ll be — I’ve gotta — restroom,” Adrien stammers, shooting up from his seat and all but sprinting for the doors.

“Wait, Adrien—!”

Nino’s panicked call is lost as Adrien flies down the hall, slipping down the stairs to the bathrooms on the first floor where he’s less likely to be found. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to cry, or anything so humiliating, but there’s an awful crushing sensation in his chest that makes him think he might do something he’ll regret. Or say something, any of the raging thoughts that bang off the insides of his skull with hurt. Something he won’t be able to take back.

Adrien wavers, planting both hands on the edge of the sink and staring at the white porcelain. His breathing sounds odd in the echo of the bathroom, wavering and off-beat. His vision swims traitorously, so he glares up at the mirror instead, only to falter as he catches sight of his reflection.

He looks…not great. Pale skin and bloodshot eyes in the way that’s likely to make Nathalie call a doctor on him. Which would be just fantastically ironic, considering she’s the one who needs a doctor, even if she’s never going to admit it and keep lying to him. Just like Ladybug, all careful smiles and words chosen with forced, casual caution, staring at him with eyes that are a million other places except actually seeing him.

Stop, he tells himself furiously, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop. Ladybug is not Father. Ladybug is Ladybug, his best friend and partner and he trusts her, he trusts her to have her reasons for not telling him. He has to trust her. He does trust her, he—

A sharp cracking sound tears Adrien from his thoughts, and he snaps his head up to find seven of his own disjointed faces staring back at him. He blinks, and suddenly the faces are clinking to the floor, broken fragments of the mirror scattering around his shoes.

His first thought, apart from a bizarre sense of not being entirely in his body, is a well-timed curse word.

Instead, what he gets out is, “Seven years bad luck,” muttered, almost absently, beneath his breath.

Typical. He wonders if moonlighting as a black cat-themed superhero that leans heavily into exaggerated acrobatics counts as crossing one. Like he needs more bad luck, right now.

What he actually needs, is…

Is…

He needs an escape.

From everything, it feels like, but for now, Adrien will settle for an escape from the school bathroom with all the mirrors that just broke.

…somehow.

————

For all that he throws fits of drama about it, the thing is, Adrien has escaped.

He’s made it out of the house, to school. He’s learned physics and grammar and math that Nathalie taught him six months ago, and he’s learned how to play hangman and cut class and tell your friend’s fortune with folded paper. He’s made friends, real friends, and he’s learned how to muffle loud giggles on the phone at night and what kinds of snack food Nino likes and doesn’t like. He’s learned how to pick up on a whole slew of emotions other than disappointment and apathy and mildly reserved approval, and he’s learned how to tell when other people are hurting.

(He’s learned how to tell how he’s hurting, but he’s unlearned that one faster.)

He’s learned the words it takes to voice that Father isn’t always right, learned how to curl his fingers tight enough into his palms that they don’t shake so much anymore, and he’s learned how to stretch like a rubber band against people’s anger, bending without breaking.

(He’s also learned about the perks of night vision and bone density and six different ways to trip someone up with the leather belt you’ve got tied around your waist like a tail, but he can’t credit school for those.)

And he thinks — he thinks he’s come so far, he’s learned so much, he’s so much stronger now—

Then his father’s eyes soften just enough to resemble the eyes of the man who held him close and told him how much he loved him, loves him, who stayed up all night reading Adrien’s favorite book to him and whose lap was the safest, warmest place in the world, and Adrien—

Hates himself. Hates himself as he snaps right back into place, right back into the Adrien who crumbles at Father’s slightest snap of tone. Hates himself so much it stings.

Because it’s so much easier to do that, than it is to hate his father.

————

Adrien doesn’t particularly want to go to the photoshoot after school, especially not now that mirrors are literally breaking at the sight of his face, but — and here’s the fits of drama again — like everything else Father’s deigned to want, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Technically, though, Adrien fantasizes as he fixes his eyes upward so the makeup artist can do her best to hide the darkening circles beneath them (“—really, dear, do you sleep at all these days—”), he could give himself a choice. He could make it fun, too, striking the perfect pose before transforming into Chat Noir right smack in front of the entire studio crew, and then Father would have something truly inspired to review that evening. A perfect snapshot of Adrien cataclysm-ing his merry way out of the studio and out into the gloriously free outside, that’s what.

Except then Adrien would have way too many choices to make, and even less all at once. The identity thing, being one. How to avoid Ladybug murdering him and dancing atop his grave, for another. Not that he thinks Ladybug is capable of murdering anyone, of course—

(—no, that’s solely reserved for him and his powers alone—)

—but he can imagine she’d be angry, were he to stage a reveal that way.

Were he to stage a reveal at all, Adrien thinks sourly, blinking until the stiff feeling of the makeup beneath his eyes fades. His makeup artist’s had to use the thick kind today, the extra-strength stuff that’s going to take forever to wash off. He stifles the urge to swipe at it, trying to relax into the feeling instead. Makeup is familiar, consistent. Sure, it’s technically another lie, but it’s one Adrien’s at least aware of. Makeup, he can see through. He can put it on and take it off himself, exercising some tiny semblance of control over what’s being hidden from the world.

Everything else, though…

“Carefree, my boy, carefree,” Vincent implores, his eyebrows furrowing as Adrien snaps himself back to the present. “You look as if you’re being drowned in mud, not soaring above the clouds.”

Adrien’s cheeks puff up as he blows his breath out, short and frustrated. At least Vincent is every bit as prone to fits of drama as he is, he reminds himself. It’s better to be stuck with someone passionate than someone as open as a brick wall, even if it is just Vincent antagonizing him with a camera again.

“Sorry,” he offers, giving him a weak grin. “I’ll get it this time, promise.”

Vincent doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he rambles about lighting and angles instead of scolding Adrien, which he can’t help but be grateful for. It allows Adrien a moment to let the smile drop, staring at the ground instead of the brightening lights around him.

He toes sullenly at the smooth linoleum of the floor, the solid black of Father’s logo glaring back at him from the side of his sneaker. Maybe he should just get more sleep. Maybe all the ugly tangled emotions in his chest are just residual buildup from being overtired, that’s all. Ladybug mentioned the stress getting to her a little while back, her own eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Adrien’s brilliant solution had been to take her to the movies, which had gone just as brilliantly as every other time he’s tried something like that, which is not very well at all. He’d been worried about her, though, even before she’d thrown him from a roof on accident. Ladybug carries so much on her shoulders, and strong as they are, Adrien knows what it’s like to be strung so tightly that even the slightest extra weight feels like it’ll snap you. He sees the same weight in his own eyes, now, even blinded by the studio lights.

His stomach twists. Ladybug’s eyes aren’t half as bloodshot lately. There’s an easiness to her that wasn’t there before, a lightening of tension, and yes, Adrien’s happy she’s feeling better, he’s nothing but glad that she isn’t so exhausted and worn, but…

But she’d trusted him before, even when she was strung her tightest. And now that there’s relief in her eyes, now that he’s taking a backseat and Ladybug adds more allies to their roster by the day, allies that she knows but he doesn't, allies that Alya and Nino probably know too, just like everything else, now that—

Was he the problem? Was it his fault, that Ladybug’s eyes turned shadowed and her movements wavered? He’s tried, he’s tried to be a rock for her, to be something constant and consistent as Adrien himself wants, but the horrible feeling that he’s not enough is now warring with the awful feeling that he’s the problem in the first place, because — why else? Why else would she shut him out like this? Why else would she decide he’s untrustworthy, after all this time, why—

The lights against his vision suddenly flare painfully bright, so bright Adrien’s forced to stagger back.

Vincent jolts away with a cry, waving his hand frantically as the camera sparks and sputters. Echoed cries of surprise ring throughout the studio as the overhead lights flicker wildly, turning the studio into a frightening mockery of a particularly bad nightclub.

Adrien stumbles again, alarm coursing through his veins like a cold burst of water, and he darts for the intern nearby, who’s fallen over in her scramble to back away from the strobing lights. She’s just taken his hand when the lights go dark, plunging the studio into blackness. Before anyone can react beyond a frightened shriek, the lights snap back on, bright and steady as if nothing’s happened.

Adrien slowly pulls the intern to her feet, staring at the blazing lights as his vision swims, blinking against the sudden onslaught of dark spots in his eyes.

“Is it an akuma?” the intern asks, her eyes wild with fear. “Should we — should we evacuate?”

Adrenaline shoots through Adrien’s veins, his head whipping back and forth as he searches for a spark of purple, for the familiar edge of butterfly’s wings. But there’s nothing out of place, save the sputtering camera Vincent’s fretting over. There’s no sign of garish transformation, no following explosions, no loudly proclaimed demands for miraculous. In fact, if Adrien hadn’t seen it himself, it would appear as if nothing’s ever happened at all.

“It could’ve been the power lines,” someone suggests. “This place is pretty old, you know.”

“With Agreste’s standards?” someone else mutters. “I doubt it.”

“The camera is broken. Unsalvageable,” Vincent announces over the outbreak of murmurs. To his credit, he barely sounds shaken. “It must have been a power failure, or a blown fuse, I suppose. Nothing we can help.”

Vincent’s word is all the rest of the crew needs, and before Adrien can clamber up to inspect the lights himself, he’s being ushered from the studio, another intern furiously muttering about how she refuses to be fired for losing a model to “subpar building inspections” or something along those lines.

Adrien, who is already anticipating Father’s reaction himself, can’t blame her for bailing the moment he’s in the Gorilla’s hands.

————

Adrien is six years and three months old when his father finally finishes reading Le Petite Prince to him, and he comes the closest he ever has to throwing a fit at the ending.

He doesn’t actually throw a fit, of course, because then his father might not read to him ever again. That they finished this book together is already more precious as anything Adrien’s ever owned, and he won’t ruin that with his dramatics.

“Not all stories have the happy endings you want, Adrien,” his father tells him. Adrien feels his arms tighten around his shoulders, where he sits snugly in his father’s lap. “Sometimes you must make the most of what you have.”

Even at a young age, Adrien knows that he has quite a lot. The knowledge only grows as he does, just how much he has from his last name alone. His room alone could rival some people’s homes, Adrien has no right to want for anything.

And yet.

Sometimes, Adrien thinks back to the deep timbre of his father’s voice as he reads about yellow snakes and desert flowers and feels a stinging sense of loss so sharply it takes his breath away.

Other times, though, Adrien thinks about his father choosing to read a story about a boy who could only return home by letting a snake poison him, and wonders what that says about their relationship.

It’s not even Father’s icy tone that hurts anymore, really, Adrien thinks, as he picks at his dinner. Not that he’s likely to hear that tone tonight. Father’s locked himself firmly in his office again, and even Nathalie is nowhere to be seen. It’s quiet enough that Adrien’s gotten away with heating up the cheapest dinner they have in the house, and scouring enough cheese for Plagg that he won’t be complaining for a month.

Well, a day, maybe. Plagg’s a special kind of greedy.

But it’s painstakingly clear that Adrien will be dining alone, tonight. There hasn’t even been a single message fro Nathalie, informing him of all the lessons he’s been falling short in lately. Adrien twists his fork in his hand, setting it down with a weary sigh as dark spots flicker before his eyes again.

At least there won’t be anyone to lecture him, he tells himself, tapping absently on the table. The smooth wood looks immaculate beneath his fingers, the edge of his pinky still a bruised purple from the other evening, when Adrien misjudged the distance from the rooftop to his own window.

Father won’t be able to lecture him about that, either, so it’s a good thing, really. It’s a good thing, that no one will be saying anything to him about the studio mishap earlier, or the darker than usual circles beneath his eyes, or he way he’s been showing up late more often than not to everything. Not about his slipping grades, or the way he keeps forgetting to hide his glare when photoshoots run longer than they’re supposed to.

It’s a good thing, Adrien tells himself, as his fingers clench around the table’s edge. It’s a good thing that he’s alone tonight. Being alone and unseen is much better than the alternative. It’s a good thing, that he can stew in whatever ugly emotions keep threatening to rise to the surface all by himself, where he won’t risk hurting anyone else with them. He can’t mess anything up if no one’s there to see it, so really, it’s a good thing, it’s—

It hits him, all-encompassing and overwhelming all at once.

Unwanted, thick and horrible and choking, the sensation of being traded out and traded off and stepped over, left behind and left out and laughed at in vicious whispers, closed doors and closed expressions and locking him out, like bars sliding down from the ceiling and cutting him off, trapped in place like an animal in the zoo, entertaining for a heartbeat than easily moved past for something better, unwanted and untrusted and alone, alone, alone again—

Adrien buckles and something howls in his ears, his hands burning as his fingers crunch through wood and his vision whites out.

For a heartbeat, Adrien isn’t Adrien — he’s the swelling of flames as fire catches light, he’s the pull of the undertow as it rips across the shore, he’s the blazing burst of lightning against metal, he’s on the edge of a cliff and stepping off—

And then he’s Adrien again, small and shaking and breathing in large, heaving gasps, trying desperately not to throw up all over the table.

“—drien, kid, Adrien, please!”

Adrien tears his hands from the table as if it’s shocked him. Black flecks drift from his fingers as they tremble, and Plagg splits into three as he flits in front of him, six pairs of green eyes staring at him in blazing concern.

“Plagg?” He barely recognizes his own voice, and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“Breathe,” Plagg orders as his image solidifies back to one, more serious than Adrien can remember him sounding. “You gotta breathe, Adrien.”

He does, in stuttering, shaky gasps, because Adrien will do anything Plagg asks him to. He’ll light himself on fire if he wanted, because Plagg is all he’s got.

Plagg is here, and that means more to Adrien than anything else could.

“Breathing,” he finally croaks out. “I’m — breathing, see? S’all good.”

It is most certainly not all good, because Adrien still feels like he got thrown off a building and into a blender, but Plagg almost looks frightened, looking from Adrien to the table to Adrien again, and—

Adrien freezes. The table. The stupidly, enormous, ridiculously expensive, lonely table his family’s supposed to use. The table he definitely, most certainly felt crunch under his hands.

Adrien follows Plagg’s gaze downwards, and suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“Oh,” he whispers.

Ice coats the inside of his chest, cold and creeping. The sidewalk. The mirrors, the studio camera, and now this.

“Adrien.” Plagg sounds so very serious.

He could explain most of it away. It’d be — it would be easy.

But this?

Adrien stares at the half-decayed table, ashes still flaking from the sides in a way that’s horribly distinctive of his cataclysm. A spiderwebbed path of smoldering destruction, all tracing back to where his fingers had been white-knuckled at the table’s edge.

Something snaps in the chandelier above him, cracking once and fizzling off into sparks.

It feels like something’s snapped in Adrien’s head. Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe he’s finally gone off the edge, and that — that can be his excuse, when Father asks him what, exactly, he did to the table. He can tell Father they’ve both lost it, they’ve both gone mad, and wouldn’t mom think this was all so funny—

A sound like a sob rips itself from his chest, before Adrien can strangle it into submission. He can’t lose it now. He can’t break down, he has to — he has to come up with a way to explain this, he has to find an escape, or Father’s going to be so angry, and so cold, and…and…

Adrien goes still. Like ice, numb and calming, he realizes he doesn’t have to worry about excuses. He doesn’t have to worry about any of that at all. No one’s coming. Not to check on him. The silence of the house is overpowering, the tiny patter of the vaporized table bits as they land on the floor almost thunderous.

“Adrien,” Plagg repeats, softer this time. “I need you to look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his head, meeting Plagg’s bright green eyes with his own. Something in Plagg’s expression goes tight, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes before he schools them back into careful calm.

“Oh, kid.” Plagg’s voice is gentle. It still sounds like a lament.

Adrien tears his gaze away, swallowing. His fingers, still shaking, curl into unsteady fists. They feel odd, almost scalded. Adrien ignores it.

He can hide the table, he tells himself. He can fix the chandelier. No one will notice. He can hide this.

He’s Adrien Agreste.

He can deal with a couple of cracks in his facade.

#ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #nino's here as well #he's just not clogging up the fic with his internalizing like adrien is #ml season 4 spoilers #rocketear spoilers #i just have a lot of thoughts about the powers of destruction #and what that could mean potentially #if you weren't cowards mr astruc

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

Text

A Demon’s Promise Part 3: Return the Favor

AN: CONGRADULATIONS EVERYBODY!!! My 1000th post is the longest smut piece I’ve done to date, and I am going to hell. Oof.

Also, hey, look, the plot is starting to peek through O.o

Characters: Incubus!Levi, Reader

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings: Language--including here in the warnings. Hints of Angst. SMUUUUUTTTT!!!! Time for the kinky shit list: Oral, Blowjobs, Anal, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Breeding Kink, Throat Fuck, Tail Play (Yup, that’s still here), Multiple Orgasms, Edging, a bit of Aftercare, Dubious Consent, No Protection (probably should have put this one on the last two chapters as well).

Word Count: 7265

<----Previous Part Masterlist Next Part---->

*Reader’s POV*

A thought had started to settle into your mind. Maybe it had always been there, but buried under the intense whirlwind that was your dreams of Levi and the mind-altering pleasure that he brought you every night. The aches and soreness after waking up, and then the bruises a bit more recently from the hickeys--any more physical, tangible evidence started to make you wonder if it really was just a rash of extremely kinky dreams.

Of course, that was impossible...but the idea was there nonetheless, lurking in the back of your mind. Even though you didn’t believe they were real, it was still something that was there, and apparently it was present enough to influence some decisions of yours.

For example, all these nights he came, he was always focused on you, on giving you pleasure. But after that unexpected thing with the tail, when you’d seen his control slip in the face of true pleasure, you’d realized you hadn’t really been given the chance to do anything for him in return. Besides what he had you do in the course of whatever sexy thing you were doing for the night, but it was always aimed towards getting you more riled up, or keeping him hard--or semi-clean and not so sticky at the end. You never once laid him down, and focused on him for a change--and he never once asked for it. You didn’t even think it was something on his mind, a thought or a possibility on his radar. He was so focused on servicing you, but for some reason thought nothing of servicing himself.

Besides that breeding kink of his that came into play with every dream. Was that some weird way of your subconscious telling you that you wanted kids or something?

Actually, the more you thought about it, whenever he orgasmed, it was always inside you--buried deep inside your pussy. Not down your throat, not when he was buried up your ass, not pulling out and onto your stomach, it was always buried inside you.

Again, probably part of that breeding kink, or maybe he was also into cockwarming.

Why were you here thinking about the man in your dreams like he was an actual person, he was literally a wet dream fantasy your brain had cooked up recently and wouldn’t stop sending to your sleeping mind.

At least, that was the more rational, reasonable explanation you had, but not one that fit the physical signs of sex in the mornings after.

In fact, it had gotten so bad, you were scheduling a doctor’s appointment to see if you were a rare case of sexsomnia or something--the idea came to you after you saw it on a medical drama playing on TV in the background while you made your dinner. Something was happening with you, and you figured it was about time to seek medical help in figuring out what was going on.

But that was still a few days away, and there were still several steamy nights with Levi to spend before getting to the bottom of what was medically going on with you to have continuous wet dreams. For now, the appointment was far from your mind, as this time when you drifted off to sleep and inevitably towards a dream of Levi, you had a goal for the first time.

Your mind was only in darkness for what felt like a few seconds before you felt the weight of a body against yours, the feel of lips along your jaw and a hand running along your stomach and down in between your legs to already start rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

Someone was impatient, tonight. Too bad for him--you’d been talking yourself up to this considering the raw sexual energy Levi exuded in your dreams was rather intimidating, and you were not going to let yourself chicken out at the last minute.

“Levi…” you murmured as you were roused from your sleep, eyes fluttering open to stare upwards at the canopy of the black satin bed you were almost always inside. The sight disappeared as Levi shifted to lean over you, his eyes filling your vision for a few seconds before he kissed you, sparking a heady and almost lethargic sensation inside you as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, feeling his well-sculpted body pressing up against yours, fingers prodding underneath your panties to already start fingering you.

He was really trying to get right to it, tonight, wasn’t he?

It was only through sheer force of will that you managed to pull back from his heady kiss, gasping slightly as if you’d been drowning and blinking as if to disperse a fog as you focused back on the goal you had in mind.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you murmured, and Levi froze, staring warily at you as you tried to regain your bearings. He went in as if to kiss you again before you could say anything else, before you could regain your thoughts, and even though you came in to kiss him, moaning at the feel of his fingers already delving between your folds as his tongue swept into your mouth, you managed to gasp out your request around your very heated kiss.

“I want...to try something tonight,” you murmured, and you felt some of the tension from a few moments ago melt out of his shoulders at the admission.

“Someone feeling adventurous?” Levi asked in a low voice, pulling his head back just enough to speak before he trapped your lip between his teeth and gave a little pull, one of his fingers sliding inside you and earning a low moan, his thumb drawing dangerously close to your clit.

No, no, you were going to take charge here, you had a purpose, and he was not going to distract you from it in his insistence to always focus on your sexual needs.

It was his turn.

Your hand tangled deep in his hair, clutching at his head as you kissed him fiercely, leaning up into him and attempting to push him over onto his back so you were on top. It...didn’t work out. Too much muscle and a surprising amount of strength despite his small structure. He simply returned the fervor you brought to the table, body pressing tightly against yours, breathing picking up as the kiss grew sloppy, a knee slipping between your legs to spread you open for him…

You didn’t have control of this moment, but you needed it. As much as you usually sat back and let him please you, that’s not what you were aiming for tonight. This was a dream, though, right? Your dream. So if you wanted something, all you needed to do was picture it...and will it...and…

With a sudden tilt to the world that was honestly disorienting and left you reeling for a few moments, you and Levi were no longer on the bed. You were on that couch that occasionally made an appearance for certain positions you two tried, and Levi was underneath you, with you straddling his lap and your hands resting on either side of his neck. He broke away from the kiss almost as soon as the two of you landed in a different position, looking confused and even worried at the sudden change as he stared up at you cautiously. Maybe even...unsettled.

“How did you--”

“My dream, right?” you answered with a small smile, your nerves making your stomach squirm as you realized your moment of truth was here. “I want to do something different tonight,” you repeated, much more firmly than before, and a hand sliding down to his chest as a way to tell him to stay there for a second and stop making moves so you could make yours.

He was hot to the touch--not just warm, actually hot beneath your fingers, his skin unrealistically flawless, his features sharp, body chiseled. But you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something you just couldn’t see, especially after that tail reveal last time.

Something that was missing this time, you noticed. Or at least at the moment. Like you only saw it when he wanted you to. No, when you wanted to--he was a figment of your imagination, right?

Fuck, how did all this work? None of it made any sense, yet here you were, rolling with it, trying to seduce your fantasy seducer.

Those thoughts were for another time. All these nights, he had every chance to learn every inch of your body, memorize you inside and out, but you hadn’t had much of a chance to really explore him, to touch him, memorize his lines, make him vocalize in pleasure--beyond those few times when he got caught up in the high of an approaching orgasm, or the time you’d found how much of an erogenous zone his tail was--when you could see it.

Your hands moved slowly down his body, fingers dipping and curving upwards along his abdomen as you felt to about midway, then brought your hands back up as if to rememorize every muscle and curve before your hands glided over his shoulders--something you were already familiar with after all the times you’d clung to them--and started feeling along his arms.

He was holding still for you for the time being, but he was watching you sharply, as if trying to get in your head and figure out what you were doing. You were just relieved he’d stopped long enough to let you start, considering how fast he normally was, leaving no time to breathe after one high before he tried out the next on your body.

The thought suddenly made you worried, and in an effort to keep him from getting bored by your slow movements, you moved in to kiss him suddenly and firmly, attempting to get your tongue to dominate and slide into his mouth unhindered for a change. He kissed you back, but there was a surprisingly hesitant and reserved feeling about it, like he wasn’t sure how to react to what you were doing, like he was still thinking out how he was supposed to respond to this. His arms were wrapping around your lower waist, which you let happen, feeling him pull you closer as his lips started to press harder against yours again, feeling his cock sliding against your abdomen, moving closer to your pussy…

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from the kiss and dropping to his neck, shifting your hips back to avoid letting him thrust inside you. As much as your body had practically been trained to crave his dick inside you, you needed your wits about you to start--that could come later.

Levi was tensing up again even as your lips kissed along his neck, feeling for his pulse point and attempting to put little hickeys along his skin like he had done to you. While that was happening, your hands, which had returned to his chest, started to play with his nipples, fingers brushing in bare touches against them, hearing his breathing grow heavier and feeling his skin jump with every touch.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice gruff. He wasn’t stopping you yet, which was a good sign, but the fact that he seemed confused that you were turning the tables and giving him attention of your own free will, that he hadn’t figured out that’s what you were doing...was it because he didn’t consider it in the realm of possibility, for someone to give him the kind of sexual attention he gave? The thought hurt your heart a little, but considering it was an assumption and something you couldn’t ask without ruining the mood, you tabled the concern for the time being.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked with the slightest frown, seeing his jaw clench as your fingers started to idly play with his nipples like he’d done to you not too long ago. “You always treat me so well--I want to make you feel good for once.”

To emphasize your point, you slid back in his lap, bringing your head down to trap one of his nipples with your lips and swirl it around with your tongue, giving it a few hard sucks while your other hand idly played with his other nipple.

He didn’t seem that vocal, not like he had been when you’d played with the base of his tail, but it could have been his distraction with his confusion, or the fact that he just wasn’t very vocal to start. His breathing was more ragged, which told you this was at least doing something to him.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you back towards him and causing you to release his nipples as he pulled you close enough he could have reached out and bitten your lip without any effort on his part, his cock once more pressed against your abdomen.

“We’re not here for me, we’re here for you--your wants, your needs,” he murmured, trying to shift attention from him, his eyes locked on you.

“Fine...but what I want right now, is to give you what you want,” you answered. This had to be the most the two of you had talked outside of during-sex talk, right?

“I want to pleasure you. That’s what I’m here for,” Levi returned without missing a beat. Except, the delivery wasn’t quite believable. Something about that sentence rang hollow, like it wasn’t the full truth, just a line he said. And while he gazed at you, you realized you couldn’t look away, you were being pulled into those blue depths, pulled in closer to his lips, body giving in even as your mind clung to your goal.

Your fingers brushed against his lips a moment before he would have sealed you in that strength sapping, hypnotic kiss of his.

“No--not what you can do for me. Tell me what I can do for you. It’s still your show, but tonight, I want to focus on you, not me,” you said lowly, eyes searching his willingly, and not just because something kept you drawn to them. You came closer to him, lips brushing along his cheekbone as you moved closer to his ear, one of your hands moving slowly and lightly down his spine, noting proudly with the other hand that followed behind the first that it made goosebumps break out across that flawless skin of his.

“Let me taste your skin...let me suck on your cock...let me touch your tail and feel it against my skin again...I’ll ride your cock, your face, I’ll even eat out your ass if you ask me. Tell me what to do to make you cum. And at the end, just like we always do, you can breed me. But what I want right now…” Your hand slipped between the two of you, grasping at his cock and starting to slowly massage his length in your hand. He grunted, a soft moan escaping him that you almost hadn’t heard. “...Is to hear that, all night. I want to hear you feel pleasure because of me tonight, Levi...Please...let me pleasure you.”

As you finished your words in a soft whimper, nibbling slightly on his jaw, you heard his breath hitch, and he went still. You couldn’t understand why this was such a hard thing for him to grasp, why he hesitated, why this seemed to shake him. Why would it be so strange for the person he’d pleasured so much to want to return the favor, at least once? Had you done something wrong? Had you said something to upset him without realizing it? Should you just lay back and let him go about his original plans for the night?

And if this was your dream, and he was a man conjured up by your mind, why would he hesitate and resist to do what you wanted like this?

Trying to coax him into reacting since his silence was making you nervous, you carefully started kissing along his skin, moving lower and lower, feeling his eyes follow you even though he still wasn't moving a muscle. Your hands moved along his thighs, surprised as you crouched down between his legs to find that the ground beneath your feet had turned soft and supple, more ideal and less punishing for someone on their knees. Once you were in position, you started kissing along the inside of his thighs, well aware of how close to your face his cock currently was, close enough you’d just have to turn your head to brush up against it.

As you came close to starting in on your offer to really taste him, he finally moved, hand moving out to touch your cheek. You thought maybe he meant to stop you after seeing the look in your eyes.

“You don’t have to, really,” he said, attempting to stop you once again, but you weren’t budging on this.

“I want to,” you returned in a low voice, and before you two could continue in these ridiculous and ultimately pointless circles, you leaned forward and placed a far-from-chaste kiss at the side of his cock. You felt the grip of his fingers tighten for a second, heard his breath catch again, and decided just to go for it.

Gently, you let your hand wrap around the base of his cock, letting the shaft brush against your cheek as you pulled back to get into position, letting your lips wrap softly around the very tip. Your tongue swirled experimentally around the soft skin of his cock's head, getting used to the feel and taste of him in your mouth and trying to predict how difficult it would be to take in more. Your fingers moved slowly up his cock from the base until you were holding his cock to your mouth like you were taste testing and trying to keep drops of food from escaping with your fingers.

Levi’s hand shifted from your cheek to the back of your head, grabbing at your hair. For a wild second, you thought he might pull you off him.

But as your lips ventured a little further to take the full head of his cock into your mouth, his fingers--still tangled lightly in your hair--slipped down the back of your neck. His legs spread a little wider to give you more space to work, and he leaned back in his seat, head tilted upwards and resting on the back of the couch so he could gaze up at…was there a ceiling? You weren't going to look right now, you were fairly focused, though admittedly distracted for a moment by the conflicted look in his half-closed eyes as he sat back and let you do what you were clearly determined to do.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the ones you were making. The wet smack of saliva against skin, your little noises as you took a small portion of his cock into your mouth, keeping your cheeks hollow, the jaw lax, and your tongue active and wild.

Levi moved occasionally, shifting here and there for a more comfortable position, his thumb stroking lightly along the back of your neck while his other arm was slung out along the back of the couch. You would be worried you were giving a bad blow job and he was bored, if it wasn't for the way his hand gripped at the couch, or the slight flush of pleasure to his skin, or the way his eyes had fallen closed, lips parted and moving faintly in what might have been words around his deep breaths.

Or maybe it was something a lot more lewd that made your legs quake, thinking of that gorgeous sight of him between your legs with his face buried in you…

Foreplay wouldn't keep him satisfied for long, though. You'd been playing with his cock for a while now--it was time to try and make him arch and moan for once.

Without warning, your tongue lay flat, and you slid more of his cock into your mouth with a low hum. Levi let out a pleased sigh above you, hips rolling up into the motion and making you stop just so he wouldn't push past where you were ready to take him. Your saliva slipped down his dick and onto his balls, making his length a little easier to take in as you tried angling your head, tongue sweeping around the dick in your mouth in search of a spot that made him squirm. All the while, your hand started to lazily pump up and down the shaft, trying to keep him erect and hard despite your hesitant pace as you gingerly felt out the situation and how good you were at this.

Adjusting to having his cock fill your mouth and be on the verge of reaching your throat, you started off slow just to make sure you weren't going to hit the wrong spot so hard and fast you would choke, or worse. You bobbed your head up and down on Levi's cock, humming and moaning low in your throat the whole time at how surprisingly good it felt, even if it required some concentration and care.

A little pressure on the back of your neck when you took him in, and a slight tug on your hair when you pulled back, made you realize Levi was getting invested, too, his hand on the back of your neck starting to guide how you took him, hopefully helping you find the right spots soon.

Your panties were wet with excitement, but there was nothing you could do about that right now--you were focused, and you were getting somewhere.

"Don't be so timid--if you're so intent on doing this, then do it properly," he chastised you suddenly, his voice gruff, close to a growl, revealing that he wasn't nearly as relaxed as he seemed. Clearly, he was tired of the slow pace. At least he was saying something instead of straight up bucking into your mouth and throat without any warning.

He was right, too--even you knew you were going pretty slow right now. All right, then, if he wanted you to raise the stakes a bit more…

Shifting in place, your other hand ran up his thigh and over his waist, reaching towards his lower back, towards his tailbone. At the same time, you dipped your head low, taking in as much of his cock as you could before you gave a hard suck and allowed yourself to swallow reflexively.

Gag reflex? Why would you bother with that in your own dream? Anything was possible here, and you were going to take full advantage of that right now.

A soft gasp left Levi’s throat, and this time, you didn’t linger or hesitate, pulling back and starting a vigorous bob along his cock, a strange noise you hadn’t realized you were capable of escaping you with every dip of your head, every time his tip almost slipped out of your mouth before you relentlessly sucked him right back in, burying his cock in your mouth, your hand pumping along his length for added stimulation.

Levi’s breathing was heavy, borderline on panting as he watched you suck his cock, his hand now fisted in the hair at the back of your neck, hips rocking into your hand and those sinful lips of yours. He was almost there, but he wasn’t quite at the point you wanted him to, which meant you had to push him a little further to get what you wanted.

Your free hand had made it around to his tailbone by now, fingers splaying across the place you knew his tail had been last time, feeling along the smooth skin experimentally. Levi squirmed underneath your light, investigative touch, and you didn’t relent, trying to communicate without halting your enthusiastic tasting of his cock that you wanted him to stop hiding his tail--you wanted to feel it, and you were currently seeking out its base.

"Shit…" Levi gasped softly as your hand moved a little up his spine, as if concerned you might be a little too low to find it, and on the way back down...it was suddenly there.

You shifted closer in anticipation, Levi's grip on your head now holding you close enough to him that you could not pull away. Greedily, your hand wrapped around the base of his tail, thumb rubbing sensual circles around the base to try and provoke a reaction similar to last time.

Now he moaned, hand holding you tightly in place as his hips bucked forwards into your mouth, cock thrusting into your throat. At the same time, your hand wrapped around his tail, hand moving slowly out to get a good feel of it and see if Levi's sensitivity expanded beyond just the base. A quick glance to the side revealed it was fairly long, draped loosely across the couch and over the edge, coming to one slender tip that looked sharp as a whip.

No arrow tip, no "forked tongue," no scales--just smooth, hot skin for the slender appendage. It looked strangely natural, despite the black, blue, grey shades and coloration. And it was surprisingly muscly for a tail.

Well...with what you knew he could do with it, perhaps that part shouldn't seem so surprising.

And it was currently coiling, shuddering under the attention it was receiving, arching in the air as if in anticipation for the incoming touch. Another moan escaped Levi as his tail arched, and you realized it was also a fairly good indicator for the pleasure he was experiencing.

Bringing your hand back to the base and feeling for those sensitive spots along the thickest part of his tail, he bucked sharply up into your mouth with a low growl. The scenery changed again, and suddenly he wasn't lying on the couch letting you suck him off--he was standing with his back against the wall, you kneeling in front of him with your mouth still wrapped around his cock and your hand still clutching the base of a tail that now brushed sensually across the exposed skin of your legs an arm, the tip of his tail curling underneath your shirt.

This was no longer a blow job--you were about to get throat fucked.

Levi pushed inside you until your lips were brushing against his balls and your eyes watered, hand shifting to grab his waist as you felt a shred of relief in the fact you'd decided a gag reflex wasn't going to be a problem in this dream. Otherwise this could have ended badly, though you still found it hard to breathe, and it still took effort to try and get yourself to relax enough to take him in.

Levi let it sit there for a few seconds, his tail sliding up along your chest, pulling your shirt up with it as it came between your breasts and continued to reach, Levi's breathing officially turning into lustful pants as he pulled out and started his deep thrusts into your mouth. Moans and slight yelps escaped you in the process, and you tried to keep your head angled so he had a smooth entrance deep inside, eyes drawn up to his with the way you were knelt in front of him, only able to feel what his tail was doing, not to see and anticipate.

"That's a good girl, taking my cock like this," he growled, all earlier hesitation forgotten as the orgasmic high started to kick in and take control. "I knew you were a slut for my cock, but this...you take it so well, me fucking your throat like this. You look like you just want more."

As he spoke, his pace quickened, dick sliding smoothly all the way in and almost all the way out, your teeth grazing in a bare tickle along his cock and making it twitch, tongue licking and flicking and teasing whenever there was enough room in your mouth to do so. He shuddered at the sensation, egged on by the way you were pumping and stroking along the erogenous zone of his tail at the same time, and held you close, cock thrusting steadily and quickly into your mouth. The edge of his tail slipped up through the collar of your shirt, the very tip teasing along your lips and growing slick with saliva in the process, while a little further down it arched and wiggled in a way that it brushed against your nipples, making you whimper.

Now you weren't just excited--you were wet and aching, dying for the attention his tail was now teasing you with.

"You wanted to taste my cock?" Levi growled, his pace picking up and his cock throbbed against your tongue. "This what you wanted? To choke on my dick like my personal cockslut? C'mon, this is what you wanted, right? Fuck...shit…"

The dirty talk was getting worse, and he was starting to pound relentlessly into your throat, which told you he was close. Your hand had given up pumping along the shaft of his cock with how rapidly he was throat fucking you, now, and had instead started to massage and tease his balls, hoping the stimulation was about to send him over the edge between the throat fuck, the fondling of his balls, the teasing along the base of his tail, and…

It had stopped rubbing against your nipples, instead sliding down over your abdomen and into your panties, the hot skin easily slipping between your folds rubbing along your entrance and clit. Your legs shook, and you started to moan and whimper needily, which just made the feeling of his cock sliding into your mouth so much better for him.

"Hah...fuck...shit you're wet...and your throats so fucking tight…and…hnng…"

Levi's pants were ragged, his hips starting to move sporadically as his hand threaded through the hair at the top of your head repeatedly, holding you almost uncomfortably tight to his cock in his approaching climax. Even you could feel it coming, could anticipate the salty taste that would soon flood your mouth and throat…

The tip of his tail suddenly rolled and curled against your tip so it formed a small round edge instead of that wicked sharp edge, and without warning, it pushed between the folds of your pussy, pushing inside you much as it had into your ass the first time you'd seen it.

You gasped and then choked on Levi's dick at the sensation, and a strangled sound escaped him as he suddenly held you firmly in place, his body shuddering against you and cock twitching madly as his tail pushed further and further inside, stretching and filling you more than his cock could without cumming inside you. Each flex of the hot muscle inside you made you feel like it would rip you open as it went further than humanly possible, further than anything you would feel in real life, and your mind went blank, body limp for a few moments as you surrendered yourself to being fucked by Levi like this gladly.

Maybe you would cancel that appointment, because if this was the kind of pleasure you were going to experience in these dreams, you didn't want it to ever end.

Neither did he, based on the sound that came out of him. Wild and feral, Levi bucked into your throat without resistance, the tip of his cock pushing against the back of your throat even as the muscles of your throat flexed and tightened around him with your choking from the raw sensation and his cock buried in your throat. His face was flushed, sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks, glistening against his skin as he tried to hold his orgasm in vain.

As you were coming back to your senses, egged on by the feel of your body seeming to stretch and fill from his tail coiling as far inside you as it could reach given the position the two of you were in, you caught the slightest spark of logical realization in his gaze through the haze of his orgasmic high.

"Fuck...your pussy. I...I only cum inside your...hng...shit!"

Before he could second guess, before he could even finish the thought or pull back, you released his balls so you could grip tightly at his ass with one hand to yank him forwards and shove him as deep down your throat as he could go, your other hand giving a firm tug on his tail that made him throw his head back, arch his back, and let out the wild curse, voice cracking and going hoarse as his control finally shattered, and his cum spilled hot and thick down your throat, tail twitching wildly inside you for a few moments in a way that almost sent you over the edge.

You greedily swallowed the hot cum spilling down your throat, fingers digging into his skin, pulling back when the flow started to lessen so some could stay in your mouth, the salty taste filling your mouth, a small strand escaping from the corner of your mouth and causing you to have to pull back and catch it with your tongue, lapping up the last few squirts from his cock before they could fall to the floor.

Just before his tail could stimulate you to an orgasm, though, it had gone still inside you. You were still filled, and the feeling alone kept you on edge, but his stillness denied you a release, and even walked you back from the edge a few steps.

You took a few moments to clean off his cock, making sure there wasn't a trace left as you listened to his breathing slowly come back to normal, his hand changing from that vice grip to strokes through your hair as you cleaned up his cock like he was petting a kitten.

"Not a single drop wasted, huh? Good girl...but no more fooling around." His tail flexed inside you, and you let out a wanton moan, the heat in your cheeks the only hint you had at how flushed and needy you looked to him right now, kneeling in front of him with traces of his cum still making your lips shine. "You pleasured me--now it's back to you."

His dick was hardening again to stand erect in front of your face, and while you were certain that was humanly impossible, you were rather sure he wasn't really human at this point--plus it was a dream, so if you wanted round two now, he would be ready for round two now.

His tail suddenly trusted deeper inside you, and you arched at the sudden feeling you might tear and burst, ears ringing and vision going fuzzy for a moment before you suddenly found yourself on your back in the bed, staring up at the black silk canopy as the last of his tail slipped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow and cold without that heat filling you. Levi was hovering over you again, his cock resting momentarily against your stomach as he removed your panties and waited for you to come to your senses.

As your eyes focused on him, he lined himself up, cheeks still flushed from the intense orgasm he'd just had, hair falling in front of his eyes to obscure your vision of the one thing that could give you a hint at his thought process. His cock started to slip inside you, and you whimpered and moaned at how good it felt to have his hot and hard cock filling the space his tail had left empty, as well as how easy it was for him with how stretched and open you felt right now.

Your hand ran along his chest, but you didn't push him away. You were just getting his attention.

"Let me ride you?" You asked softly. Levi looked up to meet your gaze, both of you well aware that this was a continuation of him being the focus, of you treating him--that it wasn't going to end with the blow job and throat fuck.

You didn't want Levi to have to work for it tonight. That was your job, tonight. He just needed to lay back, relax, and enjoy.

Your hand slid up his chest and neck, cupping his cheek and jaw in your hand as you reached up to kiss him deeply, surprised when he started to pull away before giving in, his arms wrapping around your body to turn you both over. Now, he lay on his back, his cock already inside you, you on top of him with legs straddling him, causing his dick to slide deeper inside as you settled on top of him. You moaned against his lips, tongue slipping inside his mouth before he could take advantage of the sound and beat you to the punch.

Once you were settled in place, his arms wrapped around your back, his tail sliding and curling lazily along your legs, you started to rock against him, whimpering lowly at how good it felt but also the sensitivity leftover from him edging you moments ago. His cock entered you with ease, buried to the hilt in a few rocks against his hips, like it was where he belonged. You didn't have to wait for him to adjust this time, hips lifting and then sinking onto his cock again with a wet smack, his fingers clenching in the fabric of the shirt you were still wearing, surprisingly.

It was Levi who pushed you back. Normally, he was always holding you so close, always in contact, always keeping things so fast and intense. But he pushed you away from the kiss into more of an upright position, bringing his knees up behind you for something to lean back on as you rode his cock, maybe intending to make it a little easier for you.

His hands slid under your shirt, and you leaned your head back with a low moan, feeling his hands slowly move along your skin, feeling you up even as your hips rocked together to keep his cock buried deep inside you. You were going to cum from this sensation alone, but you still asked for more.

"Put your tail in me again. It feels...so good…" you panted, one of your hands covering his as it found its way to your breast, the other staying planted in the bed for stability.

Yes, it did feel good for you, but you also knew just how damn sensitive that tail of his was, and how he’d fallen apart last time he'd double penetrated you with it. It would be explosive for him, which was what you were aiming for.

Levi didn't hesitate to follow this request, and you felt his tail, still wet and sticky with the buildup from you earlier, slipped past that little ring of muscle and started to push its way inside you. Your body reacted instinctively, curling backwards over his legs with a guttural moan, one of Levi’s hands lowering to your abdomen to hold you down and keep you on his cock, which he trusted up into you as if to remind you it was still there.

You came without any more warning than a weak cry at his thrust, Levi letting out a pleased sigh at the sensation of your cum coating his cock, moaning when the walls of your ass gripped at his tail tighter even as it pushed further in, and he continued to thrust into your pussy through your orgasm, able to feel the tip of his cock with the hand resting against your abdomen when he trusted inside you with the bend of your body and how deep his cock was.

Even as you orgasmed and weakly attempted to keep riding him, though at this point he might as well have taken over, Levi kept going, layering on more stimulation to drive you even further over the edge.

His hand gripping your breast was already playing with your nipple, and the other hand that was resting on your abdomen and trying to hold you down enough he could keep thrusting into you had reached out with his thumb to seek out and start teasing your clit. All the while, his tail coiled and trusted into your ass, finding the erogenous spot deep inside and refusing to release it afterwards, the tip of his tail rubbing against it relentlessly while the rest coiled, flexed, and filled your insides. And he never once pulled his cock out of you, either, continuing to thrust, with you hanging on for dear life, trying to ride him but your mind quickly losing the battle with all the stimulation. You just felt him, and you could hear him moaning, gasping, and panting beneath you, showcasing that you had been successful in eliciting pleasure from him and letting him be more of the focus tonight.

You just hadn't realized it was going to overwhelm you in the process, going limp as he stimulated and fucked you so thoroughly you lost sense of how many orgasms he pulled from you, the flashes of heat spilling into your gut and the resulting, guttural growls your only sign he was cumming as well.

He didn't stop until you blacked out for a solid...well, it had to be more than a few seconds, even though it felt like you'd slipped back into sleep for that long before you came to, mind hazily focusing on the feel of his arms supporting you instead of his legs, tail gone from upside you and leaving you feeling partially empty, even though his cock was still buried deep inside you, like he'd been worried to pull out while you were unconscious.

"Easy...easy…" he murmured, and hearing his voice again made you realize he hadn't said a word after the throat fuck, up until now. Carefully, he was laying you back down on the silken bed, his hand gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face so it wouldn't block your airways or get tangled around your neck, allowing you to breathe with ease.

Once you were lying on your back, he pulled his other arm out from under you so it would be free, letting it softly fall on your abdomen, where his thumb stroked gentle, random lines against your bare skin. After giving you a few moments to catch your breath, he pulled out, slowly and carefully, though he didn't stop when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock slipping out of your body now so sensitive it hurt.

"It's okay...just rest now. It won't be so bad in the morning," he murmured, covering you with the silken sheets except for that hand on your abdomen, still stroking and rubbing the skin absent-mindedly. It was strange that, even though he was supposed to be comforting you in your exhausted state as part of the aftercare, that was the only touch he gave you.

And that look in his eyes as he stared down at you, one you glimpsed seconds before something pushed you back under into a deep and much needed sleep.

So conflicted. Trapped between some kind of amazement and crushing guilt, like he was staring at the last of a dying breed.

Next Part---->

Tags: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo @whalerus @thirstyforsometea

A Demon’s Promise Tags: @wo-ming-bai @rindulacre @seeeyounara @myherotrashbin

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

The Mind of a Monster

Masterlist

I’m Sorry | Next

“Daddy, why does everyone look like that?” Your young and bright eyes stared up at your father’s, his own having no light or warmth in them, not even as he looked at you.

The smile that crept onto his face scared you, but you smiled back nonetheless like the naive little girl you were, just wanting to return your father’s love. In truth, you had been scared the moment you entered his company office, the automatic shift in energy when he walked in the room from all his employees had you fiddling with your fingers and doing your best to avoid eye contact. It was confusing to you why he wanted you to come with him today to introduce you to his work, but he never greeted anyone or even acknowledged their existence.

You wished you had paid closer attention and broken from his leash sooner.

“My dear, you’ll learn soon enough that these are inferior beings, and how they feel mean nothing when it comes to success.”

Sitting in a conference room filled with heroes was one thing, but sitting in a conference room full of heroes being debriefed on your secret criminal business father was another. Seeing all of these familiar faces made your palms sweaty and an anxious shiver go down your spine. They were all the former class 1-A students who met your father —whether that was by coincidence of scheduling, or these were the ones who couldn’t believe the case at hand, you didn’t know. None of them were as close as Mina and Katsuki so this truthfully had nothing to do with the past, but everything to do with the present news that came out not too long ago.

They were helping to protect their old friend’s child, and his now speculated ‘wife’.

“. . . I can’t give you any more information than that, the old bastard has all of his dirty work under security, but there’s someone who can.” Katsuki said, and you looked up at him from your spot next to Ashido and Kirishima, vacating your thoughts to meet his eyes that had landed on you. “Y/N.” He called, and you stood up from your seat.

You glanced at them all again, taking note of their very clear interest while finding the words to help them understand what you knew. It wasn’t just the ones who you had just seen again for the first time in years, this was also information and a plan that you had not run through with Katsuki, Mina, or Eijirou who had discussed this meeting with you beforehand. Whether it was because all three of them looked so concerned with your safety that your plan would positively not be received well, or simply because you yourself weren’t prepared to put everything at stake wasn’t abundantly clear.

A warm and soft hand grabbed hold of yours from where you stood, and you glanced at Mina to see her smiling with encouragement. “Don’t worry, I’ll have your back, ‘kay?” She said, and you squeezed her hand.

“Okay then. First things first, I want you all to know that I haven’t had contact with him since the last year you have all seen me, not even money related. When I was in close contact with him, I was unaware of any illegal actions he’d done until I was kicked out. Are there any questions on that?” You began, doing your best to get the most obvious questions out of the way first.

The eight heroes in the room — Tokoyami, Sero, Kaminari, Todoroki, Uraraka, Ashido, Kirishima, and Bakugou — all glanced at each other for a moment, and two hands went up: Todoroki, Kaminari. You looked to Todoroki first, his dual colored eyes piercing into yours like he knew you. From what you remembered from all that hero news Ryu loved, he had his own personal family issues that ended up public information. Honestly, you didn’t know if he was looking at you like that because he related to you, or was greatly suspicious of you. Either way, you nodded at him to voice his questions first.

“Did your father use you to fulfill his own goals?”

“Todoroki, let’s stick to questions that have something to do with the crimes and just her father.” Kirishima sweatdropped, and you could see Katsuki’s expression from the corner of your eye that looked like he wanted to send an AP shot right through his left side.

‘Never let him ask me anything, good to know.’

“Kami- Chargebolt, you had a question.” You redirected the attention to Denki who looked as done with Todoroki as the rest of the group, but once you called on him he refocused on you.

“If you knew he was doing illegal stuff at some point, why didn’t you say anything to the police before?” He asked.

The air became thick in the room, and all of them looked at you with their full attention once again, and that’s how you needed it to answer that. What they were about to take on may not be physically exhausting as a villain, but the mental toll this could take would be something they’d never forget. Their images will forever be changed in the media, and they’ll never look at those who run this world the same when you expose to them the man that they’d only met as a hopeful teenager. This was a man who would stop at nothing to stay on top, even going as far as to threaten his own blood’s life to ensure silence.

“When I got kicked out of my home, pregnant and a disgrace to him, he realized that I may not have known much about how the underground business he did, but I could easily stain his image by telling my story. About a month after I was kicked out, when I was two months pregnant, a man showed up at the hotel I was staying at and attempted to kill my baby. I survived with bruises and a stab wound that entered just between my rib cage instead of directly into my stomach. That man was hired by my father to kill me. . my mother had come to the hospital to break that news to me. She is the reason another attempt hadn’t been made on my life, but it was at the cost of me disappearing and never returning again.” You laid out the full story, sparing gruesome details but not leaving any room for confusion or continued suspicion.

Denki looked horrified as he tried to apologize, “I didn’t think he did something like that to you. I’m-“

You cut him off with a raised hand, “that’s why you’re here now. No one knows how evil Eito L/N is, because he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing to the public. This isn’t your routine evidence and arrest case, and if you think there’s a low that my dear old father won’t reach to make me disappear, you’re going to end up dead, or so far in the gutter of negative media attention that your career will be over in days. You’re going to find out information that will destroy the relationship between you and the men that have made you heroes. As we speak, he is most likely ten steps ahead of us all and expecting us to move as quietly as we can for the sake of your licenses and my business.” You explained, and Uraraka stood up in distress.

“Then we should be looking for evidence! Doesn’t this mean you could be being followed right now? Why are we sitting here discussing it?” She asked, and you nodded in agreement at her words.

“You’re right, but there’s a quick end to this that only I can do at the risk of my own life. . I didn’t go over this with any of you, and I deeply apologize for the trouble I will soon be causing, but I can’t let all of you save my life while I lay down and cower with my son.”

You whipped out your phone and searched up the first news outlet that came to mind, and just as you expected, your video was being played as you spoke. You laid it out on the table after turning the sound up, watching the video you had recorded last night played to the public.

“I am Y/N L/N, the daughter of a very well known man, Eito L/N. Six years ago, he told the public that I went overseas in search of a different life, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In actuality, six years ago, Eito kicked me out of his home after finding out I was pregnant and used that story to cover up my disappearance. I have since been living on my own with no help or contact from my father, and I urge all of you to look closer at those in power and wealth. You have no idea what they could be doing behind closed doors. Thank you.” You turned your phone off and slipped in back in your pocket as they all took in what you had done, and it was of course Katsuki who spoke up first.

“What the hell did you do?!” He growled, and you met his concerned and angry eyes with frightening intent.

“I’m making this a media circus, Dyanmight,” you smiled.

“You’re drawing him out, but why? Won’t that make this worst?” Tokoyami asked, but you weren’t the one to answer.

“He doesn’t know what she’s going to do. . she’s making it impossible to keep his tracks covered.” Todoroki looked at you, and you both nodded at each other in complete understanding. “Y/N just made this a lot easier for us.”

A/N: I was gonna keep dad’s name neutral, but it just didn’t make sense that they all would constantly refer to him as her father. So evil dad’s name is Eito! This is pretty much a small filler before we reach our real drama and end. I can’t promise a soon update and the hiatus is still very much in motion, but I wanted to get this out to you. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha angst #katsuki bakugo x y/n #anime x reader #bnha x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Lazy Dog Mornings

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Hoseok x Jimin x Jungkook x Taehyung Genre: smut, PWP Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3.1k

Tags: smut, PWP, puppy play, dirty talk, rough sex, knotting cock rings, discussion of breeding, D/s relationship, oral sex, anal sex, barebacking, bottom Park Jimin, puppy Park Jimin, switch Jeon Jungkook, puppy Jeon Jungkook, top Taehyung, top Hoseok,

Summary: Taehyung brings Jimin to spend a lazy Saturday with Hoseok and Jungkook for a puppy play date.

A/N: The first of 2021′s Kinktober fics! Due to time constraints with real life, I will not be doing all 31 days for Kinktober. There are 18 fics listed at the moment for this month’s official Kinktober, scattered from today to the 31st. Between these fics I will be publishing the rest of Moonlight as I am able, so I recommend turning on notifications or AO3 notifications if you’re interested, since my normal Monday’s only posting schedule will be gone at least for the remainder of this month. Hope you enjoy!

“Long time no see,” Hoseok rose, hugging Taehyung.

“Right, it’s been weeks. How’ve you two been?” Taehyung asked. Jimin slipped in behind him, smiling sheepishly at Hoseok.

“We’ve been good,” Hoseok said. He reached out, tugging Jimin’s collar. “You’re okay, you can go play. Jungkookie is in the living room. Make sure he puts his collar on if he’s gonna play with you.”

Jimin grinned broadly and rushed into the living room, forgetting to drop onto his hands and knees. Taehyung chuckled. “He’s been asking to come see Jungkook for ages.”

“He lost his phone,” Hoseok said, rolling his eyes. He laughed as he did. “We’re getting him a new one, but that’s why he’s not talked to Jimin.”

“How’s he been adjusting to the more permanent lifestyle?” Taehyung asked as they walked into the living room.

“Not too bad. We still keep it pretty casual, especially because he does still wanna have a regular job, all that. But on weekends like this, well – aside from a video game I know a pup would never be able to play…” He tousled Jungkook’s hair as he passed. Jungkook smiled up at him sheepishly, holding his game controller a little closer to his chest. “He’s enjoying it.”

“Oh!” Taehyung patted Jimin. “Get comfy, pet – you’re safe here.”

“Can I?” Jimin asked. Taehyung nodded.

“Me too?” Jungkook chirped.

“Of course.” Hoseok handed him his collar. “You want a drink, Taehyung?”

“Something light,” Taehyung said. He followed Hoseok to the kitchen. “You know, I got Jimin the neatest new toy.”

“Oh?”

“I think Jungkook might really enjoy it.”

Hoseok nodded as he dug in the fridge. He passed Taehyung a bottle of yellow alcohol. “It’s sweet,” he assured him. He reached up and grabbed a bowl, as well as a stainless-steel dog bowl, and two more bottles of the alcohol.

The two had met at a munch nearly seven years ago. Taehyung was fresh to the scene, while Hoseok had been playing a few more years. They became fast friends, sharing tips and learning new things together. It wasn’t until five years ago that they stumbled across Jimin and Jungkook, two young men in a very similar situation, at a much, and rather new to the scene. The four formed a friendship that shifted very easily and organically into something much deeper; Jimin finding Taehyung’s close age a comfort and seeking him as a more permanent partner, and Jungkook preferring the firm hand of an elder to take care of his needs. The rest, as they say, was history. Even now, years later, they rarely played outside of their loose quad, and puppy play had become the shining key in their relationship, Jimin and Jungkook taking to it instantly.

When they returned to the living room, Jungkook and Jimin had gotten themselves far more comfortable. Their clothing was in a pile nearby and they were lounging on Jungkook’s blanket on the floor, each wearing their collars and preferred tails. Jungkook’s was a sleek, whiplike black one, as well as a pair of soft, folded velveteen ears, and Jimin’s was a curly-q one, fluffy and big, dyed in a variety of bright colors. His ears were bright yellow and white, one that stood straight up, the other flopped down, with the same fluffy fur as his tail. They were both watching the television intently, some sports program Jungkook must have found.

Hoseok crouched, pouring one bottle into each bowl. He snapped, getting their attention. “For you guys.”

Jungkook grinned and made a small noise of appreciation, rolling over and crawling to the bowl.

Jimin yapped, pouting at Jungkook, who’s movement had disturbing his head rest. He stayed on his back for a moment before rolling to trot to his bowl as well. Hoseok smiled softly, watching the two for a minute before leaning back on the couch, sipping his drink. Taehyung moved closer to him, brushing a hand lightly over his thigh.

“We really need to make time to hang out more often,” Taehyung commented.

“Hm… We do.” Hoseok leaned over, his lips grazing Taehyung’s jaw. “Oh, you smell amazing.”

“A new cologne, Jiminie got it for my birthday.”

“It’s splendid. Tell me,” Hoseok set his bottle down and slid his hand up Taehyung’s thigh, squeezing firmly. “How’s work been going?”

Taehyung sighed, leaning into Hoseok. “Same old, same old,” he mumbled breathily. “My boss is sort of a jerk but I’m making due… I’m up for a promotion next month.”

“Congrats. You’ll finally be out from under his thumb if you get it.”

“Mm, that’s the hope; I’ll be his equal. I’ll have some more flexible time too, which will be nice.”

“Come visit us more often,” Hoseok suggested, beginning to press gentle kisses along Taehyung’s jaw.

“I’d like to. Playdates for the pups at least.”

“Oh, of course… That’s the only reason,” Hoseok teased. He shifted, meeting Taehyung’s mouth in a gentle kiss. It deepened easily, their hands sliding over one another’s bodies. Taehyung shifted his hand under Hoseok’s shirt, pinching his nipple hard enough to make Hoseok hiss.

“Tease,” he growled, nipping Taehyung’s bottom lip.

“No… Foreplay,” Taehyung promised. He moved over, nudging Hoseok’s shirt out of the way to suck a bruise onto the firm muscle of his collarbone. Hoseok moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut. He reached out, palming Taehyung’s cock gently through his jeans, savoring the feel of it stiffening even through the thick fabric.

His eyes fluttered open and glanced down at their pups on the floor, chuckling.

“I think someone’s in a humpy mood,” he teased, nudging Taehyung.

Taehyung pulled away from his neck looked over to see. Jimin had mounted Jungkook and was lazily thrusting into his mouth.

“Jimin!” Taehyung hissed.

Jimin jumped down, doing his best to look guilty and remorseful with his cock hard and wet between his thighs. Jungkook, on the other hand, pouted. He trotted up to Hoseok and rested his chin on his knees, whining softly.

Hoseok smiled, stroking his hair.

“Aw, I’m okay with having a breeding session if you are, Taehyungie,” Hoseok said.

Jungkook wiggled his butt, looking expectantly at Taehyung.

Taehyung chuckled, reaching out and tugging Jungkook’s ear playfully. “You’re really too cute for your own good. Fine. But you mount him. Minie is in trouble for coming too fast earlier this week and isn’t allowed to fuck anything.”

Jimin whined softly, spinning himself in a small circle before play bowing to Taehyung in apology.

“Oh! Wanna try out the new toy?” Taehyung offered, pulling it out. It looked like a leather cock ring, dyed a vibrant, ruddy red. It was thick – two strips of leather at the top and bottom of the ring, connected by a thinner strip of leather that would rest at the top and underside of the cock when attached. In the middle, where the open space was, was what looked like a piece of a thick condom. Attached to the ring was a rubber tube that ran back and attached to a little hand pump coming from where the ring attached to where it connected behind the balls.

“It’s a knotting cock ring. He can pump it up when he’s coming and knot him, just like a real pup.”

Hoseok grunted in approval. “I would love to see that. Let him put it on you, Kookie.”

Jungkook nodded. He went up on his knees and set his hands on either side of Taehyung’s knees. Taehyung leaned down, attaching the cock ring to him. As he did, Jungkook snuffled over his neck and licked him, earning a laugh. Taehyung tousled his hair and flicked his cock gently.

“Go on, breed my Minie. Make sure he howls for you like a good boy,” he cooed.

Jungkook rushed back over, tackling Jimin down. The two began to wrestle around, kissing and biting at each other’s necks and mouths.

“Is he well lubed?” Hoseok asked, palming himself through his jeans as he watched the two.

“Oh yeah, I added a lot before we came, just in case you or Jungkook wanted to use him.” Taehyung reached out, palming Hoseok himself. “Wanna fuck my mouth while we watch?”

“No, I think I’m gonna get some puppy kisses after they get going, do you mind if I use Jimin?”

“By all means… Can I breed Jungkook?”

“Please do - he’s been itching for a new cock in his hole lately.”

Jimin yelped, drawing their attention to the two on the floor. Jungkook had him pinned on his stomach, teeth digging hard into his shoulder. He’d nudged the tail plug out of the way, using the strap around Jimin’s middle to keep it on. He was rutting away, trying to sink his cock in without hands.

“That’s a good boy,” Taehyung cooed. “You breed him. Show him who’s the boss.”

Jungkook barked and shifted, yelping himself when his cock finally plunged into Jimin’s slick asshole.

Jimin screamed, jerking under him as Jungkook began to fuck into him, not giving him a chance to ease into it.

Hoseok swore softly. He sank to the ground, undoing his jeans and sliding close to Jimin.

“Come on, Minie. Be a good dog and play with a bone.” He taunted. He fisted Jimin’s hair and pulled his head up. Jimin’s cheeks were mottled, his eyes already glazed in pleasure and Jungkook used his ass.

Hoseok slapped his cock over Jimin’s wet, plush lips. “Come on, puppy. Be good.”

Jimin whined low in his throat. He stuck his tongue out, drooling over Hoseok’s cock before letting it slide into his mouth. Hoseok moaned happily, holding his head. “Oh, good doggie,” he groaned.

“That mouth is phenomenal, isn’t it?” Taehyung asked, crawling onto the floor with Hoseok. His own cock was pulled from his pants, wet with his own spit as he stroked himself.

“Amazing, you’ve done wonders training him, Taehyung,” Hoseok panted, fucking up into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin whimpered and groaned, his throat making small, wet gulping noises each time Hoseok’s cock penetrated it.

“Want me to suck it?” Hoseok offered, looking at Taehyung’s cock pointedly.

“Nope, I was just getting ready. Is Kookie’s hole ready?”

Jungkook barked sharply, his grin wide enough to show most of his teeth. Hoseok laughed.

“There’s your answer.”

Taehyung chuckled. He pulled his pants off and went over behind Jungkook. He pulled the plug out, sliding two fingers in instead. “Oh, good boy. Ready to get filled up, huh?”

Jungkook grumbled happily, wiggling his ass as much as he could still humping Jimin.

“That’s it, hump my boy,” Taehyung coaxed. “Minie needs a nice thick load from a puppy like you this week, remind him what a good little breeding boy he is.”

Jungkook growled. He laid over Jimin, panting and huffing in his ear.

Jimin moaned as well as he could, his voice cut off when Hoseok pumped his cock back into his mouth. He held his head down, eyes rolling back. “He’s gotten so much better at deep throating,” Hoseok panted.

Taehyung slid his cock slowly into Jungkook, sighing contentedly at the tight squeeze. Jungkook yipped, his body giving a pleasant little shudder. Taehyung went still, almost all the way inside Jungkook. He let his hands rest on his hips gently. Each time Jungkook thrusted into Jimin, he pulled slightly off Taehyung’s cock, and the pull out pushed him firmly back onto him. Jungkook groaned deep in his throat.

“Good boy,” Taehyung praised, stroking his sweat slicked back. “Harder you fuck my pup, the more cock you get, you’re learning.”

Jungkook barked. He leaned down, licking a stripe up Jimin’s neck before nipping his ear and growling deep down. He began to move faster, slamming into Jimin hard enough to jerk him forward ever so slightly. The movement made him take Hoseok’s cock a little deeper as well, his shoulders jerking when he gagged on his cock.

Jungkook picked up the hand pump, squeezing it a few times. Jimin whined, pushing his ass back further as the knot began to swell. It wasn’t enough to lock yet, slipping in and out of his ass with a slick pop.

“Has he taken it before?” Hoseok panted, shifting to fuck up into Jimin’s mouth.

“Not yet,” Taehyung said. He laid over Jungkook, his own hips now working to pound deep into his ass on each thrust. “He’s knotted me with it, and it felt amazing, but he’s not had a pup to give it to him.”

Hoseok moaned softly at that. “Hear that, Kookie,” he cooed, stroking Jungkook’s hair. “Gonna be the first to knot Minie’s tight little hole. How proud you should be. Give it to him good, pet… Make him howl for you.”

Jungkook barked sharply, choking back a moan. He shifted, driving his hips harder and faster into Jimin’s ass.

Jimin shouted around Hoseok’s cock, his tears sliding down his cheeks. Hoseok looked at him, giving a thumbs up in question. Jimin nodded as well as he could, wrapping his lips tightly around Hoseok’s cock and sucking hard even as he gagged.

Jungkook began to pant more erratically, his hips working wildly. He snarled huffed and whined, biting down on Jimin’s shoulder lightly. He grabbed the pump, squeezing it each time he thrust forward.

Finally, Jimin yelped and Jungkook went still, spinning his hips in tiny little circles. He leaned his head back, mouth open as his body jerked gently with the force of Taehyung’s thrusts.

“That’s a good boy,” Taehyung purred, holding Jungkook’s hips. “You breeding my boy? Hm? Filling my pup full?”

Jungkook let his tongue hang out, his eyes going a little unfocused. The sight was stunning.

Hoseok swore softly. He shifted and thrusted hard and fast into Jimin’s mouth. He could feel drool dribbling down his cock as Jimin struggled to take him.

“Relax, Minie,” he panted. “Just let me in, I’ll give you a yummy treat, just let it happen, oh, fuck—” Hoseok gritted his teeth. He drove his cock into Jimin’s mouth, feeling his throat clench and convulse around his tip. He held his head, his cock spurting ropes of come.

Hoseok released Jimin’s head, letting him pull back. Drool and come spilled from his mouth and over his chin and he coughed and gagged. He went back immediately, lapping at Hoseok’s cock to clean it. Hoseok smiled softly, stroking his hair. “Such a good boy,” he cooed.

Jungkook grunted, baring his teeth as Taehyung pounded into him, his nails biting into Jungkook’s hips.

Taehyung shuddered, his thrusts breaking their rhythm as he neared his orgasm. He tossed his head back, grunting as he came, still driving into Jungkook’s ass as he did. Jungkook grinned broadly, looking back at Taehyung and barking once sharply.

“Yeah, I know… Good boy,” Taehyung panted, patting his ass.

“I think Minie needs to come still,” Hoseok worried, leaning down to stroke Jimin’s cock, leaking and hard.

“Aw, you didn’t come from being bred?” Taehyung asked.

Jimin shook his head in something resembling a no and whined, thrusting forward into Hoseok’s hand as much as he could still tied to Jungkook’s cock.

“I’ll milk him,” Hoseok offered. He kissed Jimin’s cheek and forehead gently. Letting go of Jimin’s cock for a moment, he swiped his hand through the come and spit from their earlier activities still on Jimin’s face, using it to ease his hand as he began to stroke Jimin with a firm, sure grip.

“Come on, pup – let it out. We gotta get you to come or you’ll get pent up, won’t we?” He coaxed, his voice soft and soothing.

“Such a good boy, Minie,” Taehyung added, reaching out to stroke Jimin’s back. “Didn’t come without permission, you’re getting so good at that. You have permission now, puppy – you can come any time you need.”

“He is a good boy,” Hoseok agreed. Jimin smiled crookedly, letting his tongue hang out even as his eyelids fluttered. “Holding his come until we’re ready to milk it out of him. Taking Kookie’s knot all the way, taking me without so much as a complaint or a nip. You’re such a good boy, Minie.” Hoseok stroked his cheek gently, his hand working fast along the length of his cock.

Jungkook snuffled against Jimin’s ear, whining and woofing softly. He licked a stripe up his cheek and Jimin turned his head, meeting Jungkook’s mouth in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth.

Jimin broke the kiss to hiss, his hips twitching wildly.

“That’s it,” Taehyung coaxed. “Let it come. Come for Hobi, Minie.” Taehyung slowly pulled his softened cock from Jungkook’s ass, slipping the tail plug back in. Jungkook let the air from the knot, pulling himself free. He crouched down, sliding his tongue deep into Jimin’s gaping hole to catch the come as it dribbled out.

Jimin groaned at that, thrusting back against Jungkook’s tongue. His eyes rolled back a little, mouth hanging open.

“Come on, such a good boy, come for me, Minie, come on, let it all out.” Hoseok praised.

Jimin yipped, his entire body shuddering. Jungkook leaned up and pushed his tail plug back in, biting his ass playfully. Jimin’s cock jerked in Hoseok’s hand and began to spurt ropes of come onto his hand and the floor.

“Oh, good boy,” both Taehyung and Hoseok praised as Hoseok milked his orgasm from him. When he could get no more, Hoseok pulled his hand back and both Jimin and Jungkook went forward, licking the come from it. They shared another messy kiss afterward, nipping each other’s mouths.

Hoseok settled back onto the couch, wiping his hand free of saliva and come, and tucking himself back into his jeans.

“That was very needed,” Taehyung said, slumping on the couch after putting himself away.

“Most definitely,” Hoseok agreed, watching the two cuddle on the floor. “You boys wanna get a bath?” He offered. “After we can all take a nice nap together and then go out to dinner?”

Jimin and Jungkook untangled themselves from each other and rushed up to the two, wagging their tails as fast as they could manage.

Taehyung laughed brightly. “Guess that’s a yes.”

The two rose and led Jimin and Jungkook down to the bathroom. Deciding it was far easier, they got the others up on their feet and showered two by two, sharing gentle kisses and touches as they passed.

After their showers, Jungkook and Jimin were permitted to remove their plugs, leaving their ears and collars on. Hoseok let Taehyung borrow a pair of sleeping pants, and all four curled up on Hoseok and Jungkook’s bed. It was a tight fit, not that they minded; the closeness was comforting for Jimin and Jungkook after playtime, and Taehyung and Hoseok were happy to give them all they needed. They knew they weren’t in the most traditional relationship, but it didn’t bother them. They were happy, and they found joy in the small things. That was what really mattered.

#thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #hoseok x jungkook #jimin x taehyung #hoseok x jimin x jungkook x taehyung #jeon jungkook #park jimin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #mywriting

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