Hi! I saw your requests are open, so I thought I ask for a hannibal x fem!reader. Can you write a short fic where Hannibal is kind of a sub with reader, if that makes sense. it doesn't have to be specifically sexual, anything you are comfortable with.

<3

A/n; hi! Thank you for this request, i enjoyed writing it. The fact that i wrote this at work and had to explain my co-worker that im a fanfic author… he was shooketh lol Sorry for any typos cus im writing this on my phone.

It was a tiring day for you. Working at the FBI Quarters as an archive manager had its advantages and vice versa. You get to stay in the silent office of yours and enjoy the peace but every once in a while, a jerk who used his juice to get into the FBI would mess things up and you had to pick up the pieces, reorganize and relable the documents etc. Today you had to spend extra 2 hours to finish your job and call it a day. What made you relaxed as soon as you opened the door of your shared house with your partner was that the smell of your favorite food hitting your nostrils. Automatically made you smile to yourself. You may have mentioned the hectic situation at work via text to your boyfriend Hanninal.

Dr. Hanninal Lecter was a successful man whose profession was a psychiatrist but he also sometimes worked for Jack Crawford to solve murders by using his field’s tricks. To the outside he was a cold and collective man who seemed like he had neither the tolerance nor the capacity to love and be loved.

The first time you met was a disaster. You were carrying folders to Jack’s office for a murder case and you couldn’t see who was in front of you and you collided. Like waves to a shore, wild and unbidden.

You apologized for spilling the coffee he was holding seconds ago, you suggested to take him for a coffee and to your surprise he said yes.

He had a reputation in the FBI, behind his back they called him Lord StoneHeart. Well, “Lord” because of his manners and “Stone Heart” because no one saw him smile or mention a potential girlfriend or a wife. He was a complete mystery and you were the only one who get to see his true face. A dangerously protective man who would do anything for his lover, that would be you.

After that coffee date you and him kept being in the same place in the right time, parks, restaurants, shops etc. You had a feeling that he was stalking you and the mere idea of a respectable man such as Dr. Hannibal Lecter stalking you sent shivers down your spine,well, it got you wet every single time.

Your relationship progressed even more after you moved in with him, you’ve been together for 2 years and things were going smoothly, most of the time, you closed the door rather harshly and the sound echoed in the halls of your home. You could hear Hannibal’s Hildegard Von Bingen playlist coming from the kitchen so you followed the divine voice.

He was there, white apron tied to his waist, he must’ve left work early. He had comfortable clothes but he still looked elegant, he had a charming demeanour of a royal prince.

He moved away from the counter to face you, “Hello darling.” His genuine smile made your heart jump.

He quickly came to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead and took your coat and bag. “A warm bath with your favorite candles waiting for you upstairs. When you’re finished we’ll have dinner.” If you told your co-workers about how soft and sub he can be they would laugh at your face.

“Thank you.”

After the long bath you wore your pjs and joined him for dinner, he knew exactly how to cook your fav food and also how to serve it.

When you were done with dinner he did the dishes and then gave your feet a long massage. You didn’t notice how sore your feet were untill his big hands worked their magic. “Do you want me to talk to Jack, and have him do something about this man?”

His question had a dark tone, a hint, “No, I’m a big girl. I can handle it. Thank you though.” The fact that he was ready to make that jerk disappear or pay for his recklesness made you feel things.

You wanted to change the subject, “Wanna take me upstairs and show me a good time?”

He smirked at your boldness, “As you wish my love.”

Thank you for reading. ❤️

Aftermath

@telemna-hyelle this one’s for you :)

A sequel to a whumptober I wrote last year, I’ve had a few requests to do a little something more with it so here we are! This isn’t too long, but it’s something, and I especially hope you enjoy Tellie <3

The previous part

(And before anyone asks, no, Legend and Fable aren’t siblings here. thanks.)

————————————————————

The fight was over.

Legend let out a sigh of relief as he leaned on his sword, wincing at the dirt and blood coating both it and himself.

The sorcerer who had attempted to overtake Hyrule Castle in Legend’s absence, imprisoned Zelda and killed so many of her guards, had been destroyed, and the kingdom was safe... again.

Legend felt a burst of anger, and took out a cloth to begin cleaning his sword. I leave for a few months and every insane mage from here to Holodrum decides its a good time to kidnap Zelda.

They weren’t even sure the sorcerer had been a hylian, since he’d bled black whenever Legend had struck him in the fight. And when Zelda had finally managed to hit him with her golden light, he’d disappeared with a shriek into a cloud of dark ashes. Zelda had confirmed he was gone when she’d disintegrated the pile with a flick of her finger, but that didn’t mean all of the monsters the sorcerer had brought along with him weren’t still around.

Legend sighed, and looked over at the rest of the Links.

They were deciding now whether to split off in groups to make sure the castle was truly monster-free, taking a moment to patch up any injuries before leaving. Legend watched as Hyrule came over to him, and asked if he had any preference as to what group he went with.

“I’m staying with Fable,” he said simply, glancing at where Zelda stood. She hadn’t moved much since the battle had finished, and Legend had been about to go check on her.

“Would you like some of us to stay with you?” Hyrule asked, and Legend shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. Go make sure there’s no more of that filth’s army hiding in here,” Legend said as he wiped off his sword with more force then necessary.

“You’re sure you and Fable will be okay by yourselves?” Sky asked gently from nearby, “today was a lot... for both of you.”

Legend glanced at Zelda again, then back at his sword.

“We’ll be fine,” he repeated after a moment, wiping away one last streak of blood. “We’ll join you at some point.”

Hyrule and Sky both hesitated, then nodded, Sky glancing once at Fable before they both joined the others. They filed out of the room, having finished their preparations, and Legend and Fable were left alone in the uppermost tower of the castle.

Legend breathed out, suddenly feeling rather tired as he sheathed his sword and joined Fable’s side. She continued to stare outside as he approached, and Legend studied her as a breeze from the broken window blew her hair around her face.

“Hey,” he greeted, and Fable hummed in reply.

Sunshine caught the dirt and grime still coated on her dress, lighting up the fabric and showing just how filthy it was. Legend could still see the remnants of tear tracks on her face as well, along with dark circles under her eyes, and he hesitated as he looked at her. Fable seemed exhausted, and Legend shifted his weight, wondering if she would prefer to be alone.

But he wasn’t keen on letting her out of his sight any time soon.

Not after she’d fallen to pieces in his arms only a few hours ago.

“Zelda?” he asked eventually, when the silence had stretched on for a long time between them. “You weren’t hurt at all, right?”

His voice sounded loud in the large space, despite how quietly he’d spoken, but Fable didn’t seem to hear him, her gaze fixed on the view.

Legend frowned. It was unusual Fable would be so quiet, even after such a mess. She was usually so lively, quick to offer a smile or a comeback to a quip, and he hadn’t seen her this downtrodden since... probably since he’d been reported dead after nearly dying in a shipwreck.

Ahh, not today, he thought as red-haired memories tried to push their way to the front of his mind. There’s been enough reliving the past lately around here.

“Zelda?” he prompted again after it had been a little while, and she swallowed, then turned and smiled at him, her eyes still a little red from her earlier tears.

“I’m fine, Link. I don’t believe any of his or the monsters’s attacks hit me. None of this blood is mine,” she said with a little chuckle, looking at her skirt.

She brushed some dust off, then looked at Legend, meeting his eyes with an unreadable look in her own.

“How about you? I think I saw him hit you once or— oh, you are hurt!” she suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening as she noticed the blood on his sleeve. She immediately drew closer, taking ahold of his arm, and Legend swallowed at her sudden proximity.

“It’s not that deep Zelda,” he tried to protest, but she was already rolling up his sleeve by his injury.

Legend winced as the fabric pushed against it, and blinked down at the cut on his forearm, his arm smeared with red and still sluggishly bleeding.

Hm. Well maybe it was a little deeper than he’d thought.

“Not that deep— Link, how did you not notice this?” Fable asked in dismay, and Legend shrugged, wincing again as she turned his arm.

“I was kind of busy with some other things,” he pointed out, but Fable wasn’t really listening to him, and ran her hand along the skin by his slice. Legend almost jerked away from the touch, but Fable was careful, and he did his best to hold still as she wiped away some blood.

“I have some bandages in my study,” she sighed, leaving his sleeve rolled up. “Hopefully nothing was disturbed in there.”

Before Legend could reply, Fable took him by the hand and led him out of the main tower, her fingers tight in his. After the initial shock and scramble not to drop it, Legend held it just a little tighter as they walked, relieved, even though it was encrusted with dirt and blood, that it was warm and alive in his.

While they’d been fighting the sorcerer, he’d revealed he’d been planning to sacrifice Zelda to try and bring back Ganon— which, wow, what an original plan there— and he’d turned most of his attacks on Legend, angered that Zelda had been released from his clutches and foiled his plans.

Like Legend would ever let her be used like that again.

He was only glad they’d made it before any kind of sacrifice had taken place. If he’d had to watch anything like what Agahnim or Yuga had done to her again...

Legend shook off the angry thoughts as Fable pulled him into her study, the usual mess of papers coating her desk. It didn’t look as if the sorcerer had made it into here, and Fable tugged him over to her chair and sat him down. She then opened a few drawers, mumbling under her breath about where her medical kit was.

“Zelda,” Legend tried again as she rooted through her desk, “I could just drink a potion, you don’t have to bother, really, it’s not that—”

“If you say “that bad” again, I’ll put bandages over your mouth so you’ll stop,” Fable threatened, then pulled out a box with a small smile. “There we go. And even with a potion, it still needs to be cleaned.”

She pulled an extra chair over next to him, and opened the box, pulling out a cloth with which she wiped the rest of the blood away. Legend watched her in silence as she worked, feeling a little tingle every time one of her hands ghosted along his arm, but focused on ignoring the feeling. He could have easily done this himself, and probably shouldn’t be troubling her, but was nice not to have to clean it up himself.

It didn’t take Zelda long to clean and then bandage the slice, but she didn’t completely pull away once she’d finished, her hands still holding his arm.

“This’ll probably scar,” she said quietly, an apology in her voice. “Even with a potion.”

Legend shrugged. “What’s one more?” At least it wasn’t one from a dumb accident.

Zelda swallowed, and looked down at where she was still holding his arm. She carefully let go of it, and Legend looked at her eyes, the normally bright blue stormy with emotion.

“...You’re certain he didn’t hurt you?” he asked after the silence had stretched between them for a while, and Fable nodded, brushing a hand across her cheek.

“He didn’t. Just locked me up, Link. And he’s gone now, I’ll be fine,” she continued smoothly, placing the unused medical supplies back into their box. “Why wouldn’t I be? Just because I was kidnapped again and almost sacrificed again so that Ganon could be brought back again, and couldn’t do a thing about it, that doesn’t mean I’m not fine, why wouldn’t it? I’m perfectly—”

“Zelda,” Legend interrupted, raising an eyebrow at her. “You were sobbing into my arms not three hours ago.”

She wilted a little, and tugged both arms around her waist, lips pressed into a thin line.

Legend had the distinct feeling that had been the wrong thing to say, and mentally kicked himself. Now what did he do? He wasn’t good at this touchy-feely stuff, that was Sky’s job. What was he supposed to say?!

He waited a minute for Fable to speak, but she didn’t say anything, and he swallowed.

He and Fable has known each other for years at this point, dealt with one crisis after another together, but even after all of that, he still wasn’t sure how close they were. They were friends certainly, close friends even, but their relationship had always been a little unusual. Especially after Mar— the shipwreck, it had been hard for Legend to spend much time with her, too many similarities at play.

But they were still friends. What could he say to her now?

He hadn’t really been thinking earlier when he’d grabbed her into a hug, he’d just seen her panicking and crying and done what he thought was best. He wasn’t sure if that would be the best option right now... but then again, Fable looked truly awful, and she could probably use another hug. But would she want one from him?

Goddesses preserve me, I’m hopeless at this.

“Link?”

He shook his head, banishing his messy thoughts, and looked at Fable, meeting her eyes again.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said quietly, and Legend blinked in surprise, not expecting her words. “I’m sorry you had to do it yet again. And calm me down, I have no excuse, it was just... it was too much, all at once. Too much like that night.”

Legend’s own memories of that night flickered in the back of his head, his throat tightening at the memory of his uncle’s dying words, a bloodstained sword pressed into too-small hands.

“I know. It’s okay,” he replied in a gentle voice. “Besides, it’s in my job description to rescue you, isn’t it?” he said with a cheerful smirk.

Fable almost laughed, and he felt something warm in him at the sight of her smile. But it soon faded again, and she squeezed her eyes shut a moment, not looking at Legend when she reopened them.

“Link, do you mind if..?” she whispered, leaning forward a little, and Legend found himself nodding before he could truly think through the request.

Fable leaned over and squeezed him, resting her head on his shoulder as he blinked in surprise. Legend belatedly raised his arms and hugged her back, and something warm settled in his chest at the touch, soothing the leftover storm of emotions from the day.

He sighed, and rested his head on her shoulder as well.

“We did it again,” he said, voice coming out more tired then he wanted it to. He rested a hand on her back, and felt Zelda relax a little. “We stopped the bad guy. Ganon didn’t come back, and we’re okay.”

“We did it,” Fable repeated a little shakily, her voice muffled in his shoulder. “Again.”

Legend swallowed, and tightened the hug, Fable doing the same.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about everything that had happened today, and would probably be replaying some moments in his nightmares for a while. But being here, hugging Zelda, both of them still reeling from the reality of yet another attack on the kingdom, it felt... okay.

Like even if another crazy Ganon fanatic tried to bring him back tomorrow, they would have each other to lean on.

And it would be okay.

Fable squeezed him again, and he squeezed her back, neither of them caring how they were only getting each other dirtier.

It would be okay.

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 2: Desk Toy (Toys)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gonna be honest with y’all, I didn’t bother with summaries for a lot of these when I originally posted them on ao3. So- how about a fun fact! This was the first Spy x Reader I ever wrote!

Tags: Overstimulation, toys, praise, kinda exhibitionism?

Word Count: 1.1k

The Masterlist

You gripped the edge of the desk until your knuckles went white, doubling over as another orgasm wracked your body. A sob-like moan ripped from your throat as you clenched around the unforgiving silicon within you, held firmly to the desk with a suction cup at its base. A sweet mix of pleasure and overstimulation washed over you, so thoroughly that you felt like you could drown in it.

And in front of you sat the conductor and sole viewer of the entire lewd display. Spy leaned back in a luxurious, expensive looking chair. He watched you with a steady gaze. The only sign that he was enjoying himself at all was the obvious tent in his pants, which he had ignored in favor of watching you ruin yourself on the fancy toy he had bought.

It was a small but thick dildo made from pitch black silicon, curved in just the right places. Spy had proudly showed off its best aspects, boasting that he had purchased it just for you. Of course, you were eager to try it out with him. You just hadn’t expected it to play out like this.

“Aw, tired?” Spy asked, faux pity in his tone and gaze as he looked you over. “I did not say you could stop though, did I?”

You had lost track of how many times you had orgasmed long ago, and the ache of overstimulation seemed to invade every nerve of your body. However, Spy continued to push you onward. He met your gaze with an expectant look. He wasn’t about to offer you any respite.

So, with some effort, you continued to thrust yourself down onto the toy, ignoring the pervasive ache in your core. Part of you wondered if you would even be able to make yourself come again at this point. You were so wet, your slick ran down the sides of the toy, copious enough to drip down onto the dark wood below.

“Look at you, making such a mess of yourself, ma bonne fille,” Spy said. You flushed at his words, wondering how he could remain so casual while saying such filthy things to you.

You simply moved faster, plunging the toy into yourself with renewed determination. You desperately chased yet another orgasm, trying to focus on your own feelings rather than Spy and his ever attentive gaze. Still, he managed to worm his way into your thoughts.

“Tell me, what are you thinking of right now?” Spy asked, almost as if he could read your mind.

“What?” You asked with a gasp, pausing and allowing the dizzying sensations to ebb away for just a moment.

“What are you thinking about as you bounce on that toy, mon amour?” Spy asked, a bit more firmly this time.

You stammered as you answered, struggling to think clearly, and in the end you were only able to get out one coherent word; “You.”

Spy simply nodded, waving his hand in a gesture that seemed to mean that he wanted you to go on, to be a bit more specific .

“I’m thinking about you,” you gasped, putting in immense effort to speak coherently between moans. “I’m thinking about you finally letting me get off of this damn thing and fucking me yourself!”

Again, all you received in response was a nod, and perhaps a grin if you squinted. It was frustrating to see him looking so calm and collected, despite his obvious arousal. You couldn’t imagine the effort and self control it must have taken for him to ignore his own needs for so long like this. He ordered you to make a mess of yourself over and over again for his viewing pleasure, only to sit there and observe you as if you were a mildly interesting film.

“Spy, please,” you begged, your movements starting to slow down as your strength began to dwindle. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

“Here chérie, let me help,” Spy said, and with that, he stood from his seat for the first time since this ordeal began. He paced around the desk to stand behind you. A gentle hand on your shoulder pulled you so that you were leaning back slightly. You wavered for a moment, trying to look behind you to the edge of the desk.

“Don’t worry dear, I won’t let you fall,” Spy said, his other hand resting on your back, promising to hold you steady.

You took a deep breath, facing forward again and grinding down against the toy when Spy told you to. A pang of genuine pleasure was felt through the haze of overstimulation when hit your g-spot. A choked moan tore from your throat as you thrust yourself down, focusing on that sensitive area.

“Ah bonne, that is a good spot, no?” Spy said, laughing softly as he heard your moans reach a sudden peak.

“Oh god, yes,” you said, moving faster with renewed strength and vigor.

“Oui, there’s the enthusiasm I wanted to see!” Spy said, beginning to caress your body. You sighed at the feeling of gloved hands traveling over your bare skin, teasing at your breasts and other erogenous areas. Eventually, his hands came to rest on your hips, gently guiding your movements.

“You’re doing so very well. Are you going to come soon?” He asked, close enough that his breath could be felt against the back of your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yes, oh fuck!” you became almost unintelligible as you desperately ground your hips downward, chasing your climax.

“That’s right chérie, come for me, just like that,” Spy said, chuckling at your rapidly dwindling control. One of his arms weaved around your waist, his hand reaching down to rub at your clit. The rich feeling of leather clad fingers proved to be enough to tip you over the edge.

Once again, you writhed on the toy, your hands scrabbling to anchor yourself on smooth wood, eventually clutching the edges of the desk. Spy caressed you and pressed soothing kisses to the nape of your neck as you rode out your orgasm, and when you had finally come down from the high, he carefully hoisted your body up and off of the toy. Almost immediately, you collapsed onto your side, legs dangling off the side of the desk.

"Très bien. You’ve done such a good job for me, ma belle chérie,” he crooned, still petting and traversing the curves of your body with his hands.

“Thank you,” you stammered, relishing the feeling of leather gloves smoothing over your skin.

“However…”

You didn’t even get the chance to register that last word when you were suddenly rolled onto your back to face Spy, barely managing to hold yourself upright by your still trembling arms. He grinned down at you, and you saw the lust in his eyes, the lust that he had been keeping tight reins on throughout this whole ordeal, until now. You watched with an intoxicating mix of eagerness and trepidation as he unzipped his fly.

“Surely, you can handle just one more round, darling?”

Sharing is Caring

[Masterlist: Sharing is Caring]

Synopsis: Hero is missing time. But today's date isn't the only thing that seems a little off.

Hero stared at the date on their calendar app and ...

January 11th.

No. That couldn’t be right.

Frowning, they closed the app and checked the Internet instead, for surely their phone must be broken. There was absolutely no way this could be correct. Last week, when they’d completely lost track of time and thought they were ‘missing’ 2 days, had been one thing … but getting the dates mixed up a second time so soon after?

Sure, uni could be exhausting and during project weeks and over the holidays when there were no regular schedules one might even become engrossed enough as to forget which weekday it was. Their all-nighters and messed up sleeping schedule could easily blur the lines between days. And in their final year, they were no stranger to working unhealthy hours. But even they weren’t this bad at time management.

They went on Google and typed ‘today’s date’ into the search bar.

Wednesday, January 11th glared up at them from the phone screen.

It just didn’t add up. How could it be January 11th when yesterday had been the 7th? How could it be Wednesday when yesterday had been Saturday?

Yesterday had definitely been a Saturday.

What the hell had happened to Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday?

There was no way they could have slept through 3 entire days and not felt like crap upon waking.

Somehow, they’d lost 3 days.

Or rather, 5 days, if they counted the other 2 days from last week which they could have sworn they’d somehow skipped until they’d dismissed the incident – because, well, they’d just been so overworked and tired out. Confused mix-ups and silly little miscalculations in their schedule had seemed so much more straightforward an explanation than time skips or memory gaps.

Now, nothing made any sense anymore.

They reached for their diary among the many books on their shelf, and it shouldn't be sitting between Good Omens and Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl, because that was not where they’d put it!

Actually… nothing was quite where and how it should be. Yes, the differences were subtle and on any other day they might not have noticed them at all – but they were there.

In fact, now that they were searching, they found tiny incongruities scattered about their entire one-room apartment: an absence of dust on the spines of their books; a neater alignment of the folds of their curtain; the placement of their pencil case now more towards the middle of their desk rather than the right corner; the emptied waste bin; the milk in their fridge being a different brand; the sink being devoid of the unwashed dishes they’d lazily left there yesterday ….

Or, not yesterday, apparently.

Not even their own body had been spared the tiny inconspicuous changes: a look in the bathroom mirror revealed that their hair, though tousled from sleep, seemed to have been washed very recently – it certainly hadn’t gone unwashed since Thursday. The face staring back at them was missing the dark circles beneath its eyes which they’d grown so accustomed to lately. It almost seemed like, for the first time in weeks, they’d awoken well-rested, full of energy, and with no bodily discomfort whatsoever.

Under other circumstances, it would have been bliss. And yet … this was no reason to rejoice.

This was a nightmare.

Back at their desk, they picked up the journal again.

“Dear Diary,” they wrote in a shaking hand.

“I think I’m totally going nuts ….”

[Part 2]

———

For my other stories, visit my [MASTERLIST] ♥

I absolutely love your College AU Vash and how you write him as an AuDHD and depressed person, you wrote some more in depth headcanons for him and his autism a while ago I think (please excuse me if I’m wrong with that) and was wondering if you had any specific thoughts about his depression and how he deals with it/how it affects him?

I adore all your writing, please don’t feel any pressure to respond to this if you’d rather not, please take care!

I literally squealed upon reading this (I am so biased in answering asks HELP college au is so fun to write and I’m so glad people like it SKDBSKSBEN)

I definitely went more in depth w/ his neurodivergency (and how it impacts the way both him and Knives coexist and live together + how they live as individuals) and I have delved into his depression- however I will go over it more here. This is a bit of an overview of his mental health journey ^^

TW: depression, depressive thoughts, harmful behaviors (such as restrictive eating, picking at scabs, etc)

TAGS: @h4venpha @vashfantasy @lune010 @macncherries

In highschool Vash’s depression was definitely at its worst. He had trouble making friends, was a lot more closed off, and any extracurriculars he had previously done he had to quit (to Knives’ protests and their bickering). He mainly focused on things that managed to curve some of the dread, Star Wars, often holing up in the room of their apartment in a not so safe area of town.

Knives wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He didn’t really acknowledge how his brother wasn’t a priority as he was to him- guilt flooding his conscience about Rem’s death. He’s constantly mourning and clinging to the grief he now associates with her- as it’s his only memory of her. He’s sort of privileged in that way- Knives never truly got a chance to mourn and just had to start providing for both him and his brother while Vash was working to recover best he could. Guilt became apart of his everyday routine, weighing on his shoulders and crushing the cavity of his chest every so often.

This led to him being unable to get up. Executive dysfunction wasn’t a super common thing Vash dealt with, but once his mental health deteriorated it became a lot more frequent and difficult to navigate. Sometimes the only time he’d get up on weekends was to use the bathroom, and that was after an hour of contemplation to get up and constant nagging from his own body. He’d silently chew at an un- toasted bagel, standing at the counter of their small shared kitchen with greasy hair and a solemn gaze. He’s an enigma.

Knives considers this the true Vash- one without a fun quirky persona applied like a cheap foul appliqué to appeal to those around him.

During school days and the school year Vash trudges througout classes with some usual flair, but he tears at the edges slowly. Picking at the scabs that built up on him, eczema in the webbing of his fingers from how often he wrings his flesh hand out. How often he stresses out his hand, poking at the skin with a pencil. He’d started wearing gloves for that reason too- Nai attempted to stop the habit but Vash waved him off and said it was fine. It didn’t truly eases Nai’s worries.

Vash quit tennis, practices weren’t the same, Nai had to also quit due to work and school. Vash’s straight A honor roll went to A-B, and when he was at danger of dropping down to a C Nai had confronted him about it.

What’s worse is that their arguments don’t really consist of yelling, moreso Vash sputtering meaningless apologies and nodding along while Nai tries to drill it into his skull that he needs to WAKE UP. It’s an intervention sort of thing, with a shameful kid and overworked child. They’re tired.

Nai isn’t good with feelings and it ends up a bit of a mess each time. Vash hates how dependent he is on him once he truly realizes it- when the nights where Nai came home from work late he didn’t eat at all, not finding himself worthy of food or just being far too exhausted. He’s constantly sleeping and when he’s not he’s wishing he was.

Summer vacation is the worst. Summer depression hits hard for Vash, and with Nai working full time and taking up several online classes (encouraging/forcing Vash to also sign up for classes) he’s at home. Alone. In clothes he’s worn for several days and completing the coursework on his laptop. It’s not until one day, Vash goes outside on his own haphazardly in hopes to actually do something (partially endangering himself- Nai has the car so he’s just walking around in hopes of doing something. He ends up grabbing a candy bar at a 7-11 and sitting alone at a bus stop, contemplating life.

Nai wasn’t too happy with his absence, having returned home to an empty apartment and almost losing his shit because where is he?

Where’s Vash?

Why is he still like this?

Why can’t Nai FIX HIM?

Senior year starts, Vash cleans up a bit. Nai is more on his back about things and he starts to coat himself once more in the sticky, sugary and tacky shell that’s his persona, although he does seem to have more energy. (He returns home absolutely exhausted, and almost always collapses onto the couch and does whatever on his phone for a good 2 hours while going nonverbal). (Masking takes it out of him). He’s thrown back into tennis by Nai, (hence their reputation as the tennis twins). Colleges take interest in him, something they’re both grateful for due to the fact they most definitely cannot afford to pay for tuition without scholarships and financial aid.

Freshman year of college and Vash is more extroverted- he makes more friends and while he sticks to his small social circle of Wolfwood, Milly, Meryl, Nai, and yourself, he’s still plenty friendly of course! I do believe he wouldn’t be able to live alone- having Nai as a constant presence can be overwhelming or comforting depending on the day but he does appreciate it. He probably wouldn’t be able to take care of himself if he lived alone- he has a habit of losing himself within the hours whether it be for something he’s really into or not being able to get out of bed.

I already discussed how oftentimes once he grows closer to you, you’d have movie nights or just bask in one another’s presence; but I do believe that he has ways to curve it on his own. Background noise like music or video essays on something he finds intriguing will play to snuff out the quiet of the apartment (Nai is in his room studying, and Vash would hate to bother him), tapping his fingers against his knees in a rhythm to ease some of the dread. It’s hard.

Being depressed is like constantly having your head shoved into a bucket of cement and hardly getting reprieve. And what’s worse, Vash believes he deserves such a fate. Which is incredibly irrational, the accident wasn’t his fault, Rem dying wasn’t his fault, but god does the imposter syndrome really hit hard on this guy because he bathes in his grief. It settles around him like a smog and clears up every now and then, only to thicken once more.

He learns to navigate it better as he gets older. It takes lots of time. And patience. It never fully fades, only dulls to a throbbing ache that manages to stab into his side like the lacerations forever scarring his body. But he tries.

That’s the most Vash thing to do right? To get up and be able to face another day again, to have full faith even if yesterday was hard. Even if the past week has been hard. Even if it’s all been suffocating, he’ll get up again.

Chapter 12 - If you playing me that mean my home aint home

I really really like this chapter, even though I was so tired when I wrote it 🤣 The plan for this chapter was literally one bullet point that said 'star gaze' and that's pretty much what it turned out to be! Quaritch and Spider laying together having a conversation that doesn't turn out to be completely disastrous 😭

Spider stared into the forest, wanting to follow her. He knew however, that she was gone. It was too late. Why had she left? Had she been following them? Most importantly, would she get a message to the Omatikaya? Spider was sure she'd been Tipani - he could tell by the subtle-but-definitely-there purple hue to her stripes. Would she return with more warriors?

He had none of the answers as he walked dazedly back to the camp.

Whereas before he'd sat near the circle of recoms, wanting to beat their asses at cards, now he wanted only solitude. He sat back against a tree trunk, watching from afar and wondering how the h ell he had ever managed to get FOMO from these assholes. He leaned his head back against the tree, and looked up. Stars twinkled down through a gap in the canopy.

Lost in thought, he didn't realise Quaritch had come over until the glow of the moss under his pressure drew Spider's eye.

"Counting sheep up there?" His tone was soft, open.

"Hmm," Spider replied, not really interested. A few seconds passed where the two sat looking up at the stars up together.

"Can you see Earth from there?"

Spider finally looked Quaritch. "You can't see Earth from Pandora, dumbass."

Quaritch chuckled. "I'm messing with you, kid."

They sat in each others' company for a few moments, enjoying the soft night air. Fan lizards spun nearby, illuminating the area with a gold and magenta glow. From far away in the distance, and ikran screeched, calling for its mate. Spider dug his fingers into the moss beneath him, revelling in its comforting texture. It was peaceful.

After almost being shot and on the verge of a complete mental breakdown, Spider wondered if it was natural to have completely one-eightied on the emotional scale in less than 10 minutes. The squad could literally be attacked any moment now, he should be having at least some sort of emotional response to that.

However his heartbeat was steady, calm. His mind had cleared, his senses opened instead only to the beauty of Pandora. His eyes fixed on a particular star - tiny and dim compared to its hundreds of cousins. It twinkled as if trying to say something. Spider smiled back up at it.

"<What are you saying?>" he whispered.

Next to him, Quaritch turned to look. His eyes appraised the boy, not wanting to disturb him, but so curious as to what was going on in there.

"What are you looking at?" He ventured.

"Snatanhìtsyìp. A star."

"Which one?"

Spider shuffled forward so that he could lie back properly on the ground, and after he checked that Mansk was keeping watch with a loaded gun, Quaritch followed suit.

Spider pointed with his bound hands. "Do you know the Star of Entu?"

Quaritch said nothing, so Spider clarified, "the North Star?"

"Rings a bell..."

"It's the brightest one, there. Move about two inches to the right, and... maybe four inches up. It's the really dim one, sort of in between a bright one on the left and a cluster on the right..."

Quaritch raised his arm to point where he thought Spider was saying, closing one eye in concentration. Spider wriggled so his line of eyesight was closer to Quaritch's. He grabbed Quaritch's arm and moved it in what he hoped was a more precise direction of the star.

Doing his best to crush his shock at Spider's unsolicited touch, Quaritch tried not to react. "What's so special about that little guy, huh?"

"I guess nothing."

Spider let his arms fall back to his stomach.

Another fan lizard spun majestically over where the pair of them lay. It was beautiful. Even the sound of Spider's mask hissing had floated away.

As they stared up, a shooting star passed overhead, the dense Pandoran atmosphere making the meteor burn up thousands of times brighter than they apparently did on Earth, throwing off spellbinding auroras of purple and green into its wake. Beside Spider, Quaritch gasped.

"The Na'vi have a belief about shooting stars. They say that when one appears, Eywa is crying."

"What does Eywa have to be crying about?"

Spider turned his head away from the canvas of colour above him, to better stare at Quaritch.

Quaritch felt his glare. "Okay, point taken."

"Do you even know what you have?" Spider asked, annoyance bubbling into his words.

Quaritch looked at Spider blankly.

Spider sat up suddenly, immediately getting a headrush and wishing that he hadn't. "You... You were human. You died. And then through some miracle of Eywa you were gifted with a new body - a chance to connect with the Mother and become one of her children. Even after all that you'd done. And you'd just... throw that away?"

"Kid..." Quaritch had sat up too. "You know I don't believe in all that tree hugging crap. SECOPS brought me back, funded by the RDA, an organisation that was created on Earth, by humans." Quaritch's tone was stern. "Like you said, I gotta Na'vi body but I'm human all the way."

Spider wanted to tell him it wasn't so. He could choose Pandora. He could choose Eywa. He could choose him.

He didn't say that. "That's your choice."

Quaritch lay back down, pulling Spider down too by the shoulder.

"Ow."

Quaritch chuckled again. "Do you know what the humans believe about shooting stars?"

Spider tried to think - he was sure Jake had probably mentioned it at some point. "They believe that you get to make a wish if you see one, and that it will come true."

"What would you wish for, Spider?"

It took Spider all of two seconds to decide. "For you to get wrecked."

There it was, his mask firmly back in place. Good. Things had gotten quite deep enough for one night.

"Yeah... I get that," the older man acquiesced.

They lay silently for a while, both consumed in thought, until eventually Mask came over to trade watches with Quaritch. The man sighed before standing, picking up his AR and leaving Spider to patrol the perimeter.

Spider rolled over, deciding he may as well try and sleep for the night. When he closed his eyes, he saw the face of the Na'vi woman who'd refrained from murdering him. She looked so angry, so confused. He felt the spirit of the sacred tree on his shoulder again, protecting him. What had it meant?

Waiting for divine inspiration that was yet to arrive, his thoughts turned to Kiri. He couldn't wait to tell her all about it - that he had been touched by a woodsprite. She knew her face would light up and she'd beam at him, just as awe struck as he was. He wondered what Jake would say, and whether the woodsprite could possibly be enough to warm Neytiri to him more. Surely she'd see him?

He turned over, trying to find a comfortable position on the ground. The sound of Quaritch's boots coming over to him made him open his eyes.

"Now don't bite my head off here kid," Quaritch said, extending something out for Spider to take. "I'm not gonna force you to wear clothes if you don't want to, but you may as well get some use out of them, even if it's just for a pillow."

Spider took the items hesitantly. There was a pair of human sized standard camo pants and a jacket. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Quaritch.

"Yeah, I figured..." Quaritch muttered as he walked off back to keep watch.

Well, Quaritch had been right about one thing - this would make a good pillow. Shoving the clothes under his head, he rolled over and eventually fell into a welcome sleep.

*****

Quaritch sat watching over camp, his mind ticking. Mask and Savine were asleep, heads pointing towards each other. Fike was also on the ground, snoring contentedly. Only Wainfleet was awake, sat against a tree and writing the latest status update report on his tablet.

As suspected, Spider had shoved the RDA uniform Quaritch had bought for him just-in-case straight on the ground and slept on it. Skxawng. That was one of the words Spider had taught him, and Quaritch was pretty sure it applied here.

Not long after this, Quaritch had heard the first mutterings of the boy's sleeptalk. Quaritch listened hard, attempting to decipher any of it.

Kehe. That sounded like Kehe. Quaritch found the boy's habit of muttering in his sleep endearing, but soon the words grew louder, and Spider started to toss and turn. Quaritch watched, expression grim. He didn't want to wake him. Wainfleet's eyes flickered up and to the Colonel over his tablet when the boy made a particularly distinct "Jake" reference.

Something lurched in Quaritch's chest. He stepped forward, finally accepting he'd need to wake the boy before he woke everyone else.

"Hey, Spider," he said, grabbing Spider's arm and shaking.

Spider gasped as if Quaritch had poured water on him. "Hey, calm down..."

Spider's eyes found Quaritch's and the boy immediately retreated away, pulling his arm out of Quaritch's grip.

"It's okay kid..."

With horror, Quaritch realised the kid was crying. Crap. Regretting his decision to even wake him up, Quaritch settled down next to him - making sure to keep his gun away from Spider but ready at a moment's notice. Shit, he didn't know what to do. Awkwardly extending a hand to place on Spider's shoulder, Quaritch was shocked when the boy sank into his touch, a sob racking its way through his tiny body. Quaritch's face softened, and he gently, hesitantly, pulled the boy closer, making sure that Spider could pull away at any point if he wanted to. When he didn't, Quaritch cradled Spider's head against his chest, mouth parted in surprise. He held Spider wordlessly, until the sobs subsided and the glow of the moss beneath them subsided.

Damn.

Relic's Lost Journal

Written by Ash Rose Red

Content Warnings:

Mentions of bodily mutation

Summary:

It's a cold, brisk early morning on board the Black Arms' Floating Temple, and Shadow is restless about the day ahead. While lost in their thoughts, Shadow's comes across Relic's journal, seemingly left by accident. As Relic prides herself on being quite dedicated to studying the Black Arms, one has to wonder... What kind of things are written in such a journal, anyhow?

Notes:

So this was originally just the journal entry. I wrote it in 2021, forgot about it, then found it a few days ago while looking for something else! Originally I had just spruced up the journal entry to match my current lore and timeline of events, but when I showed the improved version to my beloved polycule, they suggested that I perhaps create a full story around the journal entry, even possibly having the story reference in a sense how it had been originally lost, and I really liked that idea, so now we're here!

EDIT (1/11/2024): I've added translation notes under the uses of Hi-Bloosiæne to this story as well as a few others! You can still check out the link to the Hi-Bloosiæne google doc in the blog's pinned post to learn more, however!

Shadow paced restlessly about the central platform of the Aerth Temple, for despite it being so early that not even the sun had awoken, it simply could not find it in them to be tired enough to return to a state of slumber. Today was the day that Shadow and their mother, Black Widow, will be raising a forcefield of chaos energy around the temple in order to protect it and those within from the incoming snowfall and frigid temperatures. This sounds easy enough on paper, yes, but Shadow understood that not all is what it seems, for they have been training for this very day for the whole week beforehand. This process, according to Widow, requires a lot of chaos energy, an amount that Shadow has only used one other time before in its entire life; the fight against the Biolizard, which resulted in Shadow going unconscious and crashing into the Aerth’s surface. It can’t remember much of anything after that event, up until that fateful night when they and the rest of Team Dark were informed of the existence of the New Black Comet, everything in between is an unreadable blur, aside from some minor bits it’s managed to grasp onto. One of those grasps being witness to the demise of their father, Black Doom. They were told that the Black Arms had invaded Aerth, and that Shadow, being “the good hero that they are”, had made it their goal to stop them and take Black Doom down. But all Shadow remembered for itself was the final battle between them and Black Doom in his “Devil Doom” form, and only glimpses of it at that. It remembered feeling unable to control their body, unable to speak, only able to watch as a version of themself that wasn’t them killed its father without mercy, without consideration, as if they were complete strangers.

Shadow remembered feeling a sort of “coming to” moment after the news of the New Black Comet’s existence was given out, as if they had been in a state of deep slumber for the past… 3? Years? They thought that the battle with Black Doom had been just a bad dream it had. They didn’t recognize Omega, they barely recognized Rouge. They were scared and afraid, oh so terribly afraid.

It remembered being forced to move on with it all. It remembered feeling sick at the thought of killing a Black Arms - again, apparently. It remembered… trying to slip away from it all, to try to find their way back into the hivemind. It remembered feeling that there was no hope left for them, that this was the end, that they had messed up so terribly that it would result in their demise and they couldn’t even remember messing up in the first place. It remembered… finding that light of hope… It remembered rejecting that hope for the “safety” the government they once despised had granted them.

They remembered wondering why they couldn’t remember, why couldn't they remember the “hero” it once was? Why can’t they be that hero again?

Why did they, in the end, choose villany? As if that hero never existed… as if that hero… was another person entirely from Shadow.

Shadow was snapped away from its thoughts rather suddenly, as they noticed a lone journal flipping its pages in the wind, resting on the floor beside them.

Curious, it picked up the journal, and saw that on the front cover was Relic’s name written into it.

“Oh… Well this is an odd thing to leave behind, isn’t it?” Shadow began to wonder to itself, “I wonder if she lost it by accident…”

They thought about returning the journal to her, but Shadow figured that unlike them, Relic was asleep. So with that thought, Shadow’s curiosity began to get the better of them.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I just took a little peek…” It muttered, opening up the journal to a random entry.

Journal Entry #?????

Date: November 01, 2011

I've been noticing that I've changed a lot since I first started living in the vicinity of the Black Arms. My exposure to them has slowly but surely increased over the 3 years that I've been with them so far, starting off with just working alongside the ever elusive Eclipse and their Dark Arms in late 2009, to being truly accepted into the fold of a hivemind of about 15 members. I know it does not sound like much of an increase when it comes to numbers, but something that I've learned about the Black Arms is that there's power in numbers, no matter how small, as with every new addition to the family, they as a whole become stronger. 

Ever since I first joined, I've been taking blood samples of myself every 6 months. The reason for such a thing is that a long time ago, I heard a rumor that those that are caught in the Black Arms' web are warped, both mentally and physically, into something quite monstrous. It's very clear to me that the mental warping is referring to the effects of the Black Arms hivemind, and the Black Arms are quite monstrous, but as a scientist, I needed more proof than just that, and thus, the blood samples. One of the Black Arms' defining traits is their bioluminescent, nearly neon green blood that runs thin like water. It's quite a sight to see in a test tube, it's as if I'm holding a glow stick bought from the store! Today when I took my blood sample, I saw something incredible…

My blood looked nearly identical to the Black Arms blood sample!

It truly seems unreal that such an outlandish rumor is true, but in a sense, I saw this moment coming, I have for quite a long time. As with every blood sample I took, the color and properties of my blood shifted ever so slightly. But this still doesn't answer a very important question, that being of why Black Arms blood is like this in the first place… and even more importantly, what in the world made it possible to change the properties of my blood, the blood of a mere mobian, to match that of the blood of a Black Arms? 

After running some tests on both the BA blood sample and my own, I do believe that the answer to both of these questions is in the incredibly high amounts of raw chaos energy found in the samples. Around 85% of the contents in both blood samples is purely raw chaos! Truly absurd, and yet, incredibly fascinating! 

I told Rouge about my findings, and decided to get a blood sample from her as well! It would seem that this effect is being made within Rouge's blood as well, which is truly impressive, considering that she joined the hivemind only a month ago! As much as I would love to document the full natural process with Rouge in the same manner I have with myself, the both of us were given the opportunity to undergo Eclipse's specialized Accelerated Assimilation process within the next month or so. Considering my fascination with Eclipse's passion for innovating the Black Arms' biotechnology for the modern era, and Rouge's hesitation towards the traditional, long-term method of Black Arms assimilation, we both very happily accepted their offer.

Despite this, I will continue to document any changes to myself and/or Rouge that occur before we undergo the Accelerated Assimilation process, and I for certain will document the process itself and its results to the best of my abilities when the time comes. When that time will be is currently uncertain, as according to Eclipse, their attention has been very suddenly stolen away to a different matter for the past month. I'm not sure what it is that Eclipse is preoccupied with, as they have not told me, but whatever it is, I'm sure that it will be very fascinating! 

For all of this is truly, incredibly fascinating…

Shadow smiled softly while reading the journal entry, happy that Relic was enjoying herself being a part of the Black Arms. Shadow’s memories of Relic are rather vivid, as they met her after the New Black Comet mission. She was kind, and curious, and even sometimes a bit too ambitious for her own good, or at least, that’s what some people say.

Relic was the first mobian Shadow had met that didn’t judge them for being part Black Arms, nor criticize its bias towards them. In fact, Relic too was sympathetic to the Black Arms, or at the very least indifferent enough to their faults to still want to research them regardless. That’s why it was no surprise to it when Shadow found out that Relic had eventually switched teams and started working for Eclipse. Oh Eclipse, that light of hope that they had once rejected, but one day returned to, and when they did, there Relic was, standing right by Eclipse’s side, right by Shadow’s side. She’s always been there, from the very beginning.

Maybe that’s why Shadow felt a warm and fuzzy feeling wash over them as it read Relic’s journal entry. Assimilation is quite an intimate topic in Black Arms, and every member of the hivemind experiences it differently, and even then, it can vary even more depending on who the assimilatie is and their relationship to the Black Arms member in question. For Shadow in this moment, it was a sense of warmth, like the kind you get from a tender hug. It was the arrival of a new member of the family.

“Oh, Shadow! Thank you so much! I’ve been looking all over for that blasted thing!” Relic’s voice came into earshot of Shadow, who was still a bit lost in their thoughts.

“R-Relic! I thought you were asleep..!” Shadow sputtered, slamming the journal shut.

“Same to you! But I’m quite thankful that you weren’t, as being awake allowed you to find my journal!” Relic responded with glee.

“Heheh.. Yep..!” Shadow muttered, sheepishly handing over the journal to Relic, who started to catched onto the guilt they felt.

“I don’t mind you reading my journal, Shadow. Really, I don’t! Actually, may I ask you which entry you read? I’m quite curious!” She said to them.

“Th-the November 1st one…” Shadow answered, still feeling a bit uneasy.

“Oh, excellent!! That one is very exciting, I do say! Aah… I feel so honored to be a part of the great and mighty Black Arms!” Relic’s words soothed Shadow down from their nervous state, as the warmth it had felt as they had read the journal entry returned to them.

“I’m… so happy to hear you feel that way… I’m very happy that you have joined us as well…” Shadow responded, gently taking hold of Relic’s hands into their own.

“Why aren’t you the sweetest thing…” Relic remarked, smiling. “Say, what are you doing up at this hour, Shadow?” She then asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Shadow asked Relic.

“Ah… I do suppose you’re right..! You see, Eclipse, Rhygenta and I got… a bit distracted with the new Dark Arms and Project Midnight… and the three of us ended up pulling an all-nighter…” Relic explained awkwardly.

“I see- Wait, R-Rhygenta too???” Shadow reacted suddenly. “... Kæ’ Blak Doom ducsie, sum yahn vih, vou nu’mihnenro, nu’e???*”

*Translation Note: “Dear Black Doom almighty, have mercy on me, you’re mindless, no???” (Localized Equivalent: “Dear god, have mercy on my soul, you really are an idiot, aren’t you???”)

“Yeah… I guess that’s fair…” Relic mumbled with a giggle. “But since you're awake, would you like to see the progress we’ve made? Especially on Project Midnight, considering that’s your project too!”

“Su, vih kæ blarjikære..!* Lead the way…” Shadow replied enthusiastically.

*Translation Note: “Yeah, my dear comrade..!” (Localized Equivalent: “Sounds like a plan, pal..!”)

“Su!*” Relic chirped.

*Translation Note: “Yeah!”

“Once we arrive, I can take the wheel from there on matters. You three need to rest.” Shadow told Relic. “That’s an order!”

“Oh alright, we will, Blak Shahdo duscie..!*” Relic sighed in a jokingly defeated tone, which caused Shadow to chuckle.

*Translation Note: “Lord Black Shadow..!”

Maybe it didn’t really matter to know all the pieces of how Shadow got to this point after all, for perhaps the matter of true importance is that they’re in a happier place in life now.

Maybe, just maybe, they will come across the answers when it least expected them, when it isn’t paying attention to that matter, in the same manner they ended up finding Relic’s lost journal, by complete accident…

Down For You (Teaser)

Chapter 19: (Flashback pt. 3) teaser.

[yeah it’s been a hot ass minute, but hey…imma finish what I started - new chapter up soon( the real truth behind Cam and Bo are about to start surfacing and as always...imma fuck y'all up 😎but until then…the teaser)

One Week Before Camille’s Birthday...

 Camille and Haley’s Apt

Bo hadn’t seen Haley since the night he took her home from the bar several weeks ago. The thought stirred uncomfortably in his head when he heard the faint sound of her voice trickle in through Camille’s bedroom door. It was like a splash of cold water, extinguishing the heat rising between him and Camille, who’d managed to pull him into another heavy make-out session after he’d insisted he needed to leave over an hour ago.

“I thought you said Haley wasn’t here?” He asked, pulling his tired, swollen lips from hers.

“She must have just gotten in,” Camille sighed in heavy frustration. “What the hell does it matter anyway?” She pushed him onto his back and leaned over him, studying him through narrowed eyes.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t—just asking.” Camille shook her head in disgust and sat up on the bed. “Jesus Camille, it was just a question,” Bo snapped, although he knew her annoyance had very little to do with his inquiry and far more to do with the fact that they both still had their clothes on.

It didn’t take long after he started dating Camille for her to figure out he was a virgin. And although her initial reaction was a giggle fit, it quickly became her laser-focused mission to change it. That much was evident to him. But although the why behind her determination was still unclear, he knew it was either classic sexual frustration or some kind of need for validation—or both. But his argument that he just wanted to ‘wait until the moment feels right’ was losing its luster as the days and weeks passed, and even he was starting to grow tired of his own hesitance. Camille was a classic example of a hot girl that any guy would want to get with. He wasn’t nervous about it, and his body was giving him the full greenlight, so it certainly wasn’t a physical hang-up. He’d taken more cold showers than he could stand at that point. The problem was all in his mind. The closer he edged towards letting go and giving in, the louder it became, jumbled with thoughts, clambering one over the other. None of which were profound by any means. Just a congested mess of ‘Stop’ – ‘Don’t’– ‘Not now.’

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” Bo said quietly. He sat up, resting his back against the terribly uncomfortable iron post headboard of her bed as he brushed the sweep of his hair to the side, noting that he desperately needed to get it cut. “I think I’m just distracted with trying to write the show and everything.”

Camille rolled her eyes but leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder as she gazed up at him. “You still have like, an entire month before you have to have it done,” she pouted.

“Yeah, and it’s arguably the most important thing I’ve ever written,” he replied.

The morning after he left Haley in tears, he met with a major network, interested in making him a new headliner. If what he wrote was good enough, his act would be filmed and released nationwide. This was the big break.

Camille grinned. “You know what I think?”

“What’s that?”

“I think it would do your writing some good if you let me help clear that head of yours. And if that doesn’t talk you over the edge, then how about this?” In one quick move, she straddled his lap and leaned in, planting small kisses on the side of his neck. “My birthday’s next week, and you’re the only thing I want.”

He laughed quietly under his breath and pulled her face into his hands. “You know what I think?” Camille tipped her head in question. “I think you’re a spoiled fucking brat.”

She grinned wildly, “Yeah? So what?” Brushing his hair from his eyes, she continued. “Whatever stuck-up moral code you’re holding onto? Let it go. Stop following your own rules because it feels so damn good to break them. So just do it. Break the damn rules.”

“Astounding wisdom, Cam,” he grinned before glancing at his watch. “I gotta go.”

As they emerged from Camille’s bedroom and rounded the corner, Bo was caught off guard when he realized that Camille’s loud pack of friends were all scattered around the living room. Several pairs of eyes, all of them landing directly on him. But what really got his attention was the particular pair that belonged to Haley as she gazed up at him from the couch. Her expression was tight, unsettled. But Bo was relieved that, if anything, they didn’t have the hurt or the tears settled in them like the last time he saw her. And after quietly mumbling goodbye, he left.

Two Days Before Camille’s Birthday…

Nick’s Comedy Stop

 

Bo moved methodically around the stage, wrapping cables,  gathering mic stands, and packing them into their hard-shell cases. The theater was empty and quiet, and for that, he was grateful. The show at Nick’s Comedy Stop that night was a packed house, and although he felt fairly confident in his performance, he couldn’t shake the urgency to get back to his apartment so he could get some more writing done. He still had a few weeks before the network execs would be returning to see what he had to offer, but the pressure was on, and it was all he could think about.

As he packed the last few things away, he heard the familiar clank of the door closing towards the back of the theater. Squinting past the bright stage lights and out into the darkness, his hands froze on their way to closing the case when Haley appeared at the edge of the stage, offering a quick wave and a timid smile. She was the last person he expected to see, and after a few beats of astounded silence, he managed to speak.

“Mystery girl…”

“Help me up?” She said softly, holding her arms out.

“Uh—Yeah, of course.”

Just like the night they first met, he moved to the edge and pulled her onto the stage. But this time, it took a little longer to drop her hands from his, and as much as he wished he could stop staring, he couldn’t, even after she laughed shyly and looked out towards the stage lights.

“I just wanted to say congrats,” she explained after a few quiet moments. She turned her eyes back to his. “I heard about the network.”

“Oh—right. Uh, thanks. I mean, it’s not official yet but—”

“It will be—I have no doubt about that.”

Bo nodded, and although he was thankful for the compliment, it was genuine confidence in her delivery that he appreciated most.

She turned her eyes back once more to the lights, and a few quiet seconds passed.

“Haley…I’m sorry again—about the other night.”

“Don’t be,” she replied quickly. “I mean—I probably wouldn’t have been able to remember it anyway.” The sound of her nervous laugh struck a smile on Bo’s lips, even though he felt a tug of hurt because he wasn’t necessarily apologizing as much as confessing—that he was actually genuinely regretful that he didn’t let her kiss him. “Anyways,” she shrugged. “I should probably get going. Let you get out of here.”

“It was really good to see you,” Bo returned. “I’m glad you came by.”

She gave him a soft smile and a quick nod. “Kay, well—goodnight.” Turning on her heels, she moved to the edge of the stage.

Suddenly the only thing Bo could think about was Camille’s words. ‘Stop following your own rules. It feels so damn good to break them. So do it. Break the damn rules.’ He didn’t remember taking the steps to get there but suddenly, there he was—right behind Haley as he reached out and took her hand. Her soft blonde curls danced around her shoulders as she turned, her bright eyes lit with question.

To Haley, it all happened so quickly but yet, somehow,  in slow motion. The moment she turned, Bo slipped his hand behind her neck, his eyes fell to her mouth, and suddenly his lips were wound tightly with hers, his kiss sinking so deeply and slowly, her legs went weak, and she was thankful his arm slid tightly around the small of her back. And it was there in his arms that she hung helplessly as she took in every fiber of the moment. Every second of that feeling of his mouth moving warmly over hers until it lifted, and she opened her eyes to meet his, gazing down at her, wide and wondering. The air felt charged and electric, and that--was what Haley would always recall as the very moment she fell in love with Bo.

she remembers– happy that it seems to never fade away, the first memory of how was life with her father. how she were with her father. how tomie was undoubtedly a clingy kid when it comes to her father. she remembers her first notebook, a pencil, and a smile she wore when her father told little tomie she needs to learn how to write her name, acknowledging the meaning of a name. she remembers him wrote the kanji of komatsu tomie, she remembers it was hard to repeat those strokes but he guided her.

in france, she remembers ever holding her father's hand because the winter was cruel, when he rubbed her hand to spark even more heat, the same smile bloomed on her face. she remembers the photo they took, asking a stranger if they could help– all three of them, tomie in her father's arms and her mom rested on their side. so close and warm were they were surrounded with the cruel winter. and jesslyn remembers how everything changed.

if to ask questions why it did, she doesn't know why. how. what changed? all she remembers was how the distance stretched them apart. she grew far away from all of it she thought she would always have it close to her.

jesslyn thought the memory will fade along with the years passed by. torn in two, her feelings; she didn't want to remember them all, she wanted to keep it still in the carnal of her heart. the feeling of wanting to be loved was never weak, worn out it was ever be but she was happy the memories never fade.

****

the muffled roar of a car approaches closer as it grows louder with the screeching, the tires sliding on the wet pavement, making its way through the bend. jesslyn has been watching with wary with this endurance race, the weather is not helping. the schedules were set, there are non existent gaps in between where she could squeeze another date to follow up with the race. the team messed up with the launching date and she decided to not put a hand into it, to let them take a responsibility of a mistake they made, she still managed to attend this endurance race nonetheless, providing a major safety with the fact of letting the racer drive on a wet tracks.

"good work." jesslyn looks on her back, finding her father walking close to her. she inhales the freezing wind until it stings her nostrils, she averts his eyes. she sets back on the car approaching slower to the crowd with a deep rumble, a heaven noise.

"you should be praising the racer." she turns to her heels, stepping away from the previous spot as her father catches up to her side. in the brief moment of her looking down to her feet, she spots her father's hand on his sides, a complicated sensation kicks in then she squeezes hers back in the warm of her own coat's pockets.

jesslyn spent a quite long time thanking the durability test team as well as the racer who happily took part of the race, her father does the same but she does not care to act like they came up here together to work on something whatsoever. as people left, leaving the space empty but a car and a father and daughter, she stands on the side of the car, lining up her arm with the top of the window, "yeah, i did a good job too." she looks down on the new gtr and smiles, knowing this assembled metal, iron and machines are the result of a hard work, lack of sleep, lots of coffee and cigarette break. "thank you, dad."

he smiles. jesslyn sees it only for a moment as he moves to sit on the edge of the hood. silent strikes and she doesn't mind, sure her father too don't mind either. they're used to it. she remembers how silent became normal, standing in between a father and daughter who used to have at least something to talk. if someone would say tomie is a cheery, chatty kid with a smart mouth, no one would believe it and she understands, it doesn't matter anymore.

she remembers her first ride with the ae86, through the mountain in osaka, a fresh, beautiful scenery and window down, wind against her face, splitting her fringe in half making her face as round as an orange her father would laugh at her. she remembers him hoisted her up on top of the hood, sitting there as her father took several pictures of her. pain isn't what growing in her chest now but a question in her head, how does everything feel so strange now? it's like, those memories were never there yet they are too vivid to even be something she made up. she never made them up. they are real. she treasured them dearly. in the carnal of her heart.

"i will be back to kyoto." she breaks the silent, sliding to her father's side sitting on the hood. just like that day, staring at the summer sky. she notices her father nods, a faint smile on his face which she takes personally as the same as the one she saw back in osaka when he was looking at the pictures he took of her.

Aghh! touhou. My feelings on it as of this day (and every day forever, i’m sure):

so when it comes to the ‘official’ works themselves, i’ve always been a fan. All the famous and iconic things like the music, the art, the bullet patterns, random new setting and personality insights revealed through manga or weird side-books. Don’t think i’ll ever get tired of it.

But by far the biggest impact that touhou has had on me is simply because of like... its identity and place in doujin culture, i think? A lot of my (and im sure this goes for most fans too) greatest and fond memories relating to this series comes from the fans and the derivative works. The fanart, the fanfiction, comics, music arranges and so on so forth. I’ve used this comparison before, but touhou series is like... a dollhouse? And a big appeal of getting new ‘dolls’ is seeing what fun you can have playing with them for your own stories, or getting glimpses into how they can play off the older dolls.

i waned off touhou for a little while, but now that i think about it, i know exactly the reason why i fell so hard back into it. Its because i realised the most important thing in consuming media to me is wanting to see what kind of idea or theme the creator(s) might have had and seeing it come to fruit for an audience. Because i think making things is like, such an important (maybe -the- most important?) thing for strangers to do to connect to one another!

But like... Getting too attached to a piece of media is always a risky thing to do, you know. Even if it’s something that really affects you, you have to step back and remember its nature as a product (or advert or propaganda or whatever else it might be).

Thus, i’m sure the big reason why i’m so drawn towards ‘fan’ work or derivative work as a whole, whether its drawings or music or writing, is that I always know at the back of my mind that it was a creative someone idea had that they have now shaped for others to see.

and when it’s touhou in particular, I can’t help but want to imagine, even when there’s a language barrier, that me and this other person who has created a thing were inspired by the similar things, and in turn are inspired by others doing the same.*

...But like, it’s all still just another media at the end of the day. No matter how much a certain (or many certain...) works may wrench me to the very soul, i don’t want to just define my very being and existence by this japanese shooter game! I’ve come close to doing just that a few times in the past, before realising just how miserable and pathetic that is. There’s no telling when any of these ultimately material things will just disappear, after all, and I don’t want to be wishing for touhou itself to become my ‘perfect’ thing my whole life. (Although if we could get some more non-evil chinese characters who aren’t meiling, and some more canon dark-skinned characters, it’ll be pretty close!)

so i guess in sum, i love touhou but i might be constantly afraid of investing too much of myself into it as a whole... ‘Stepping away from it’ i know isn’t something that’ll help nor something i want to do, so instead i’m determined to find other things in life i can be just as passionate about (and i don’t just mean other media!)... or at least, ‘decently’ passionate about.

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

How about 26 for the hug ask?

26. exhausted hug

YES! You absolutely may!! Thank you bestest @kuripon for betareading this, i literally wrote this at midnight and my tired ass is projecting on my lovely witcher. Please enjoy tired hugs!

Send me a hug prompt!

On Ao3 Hug collection here

The world is not so dark when there are toxins running through you. The shadows are not as deep, the night not as lonely. Everywhere there are little creatures, good and bad. Everywhere, they are watching him.

Geralt tries to step cautiously, tries to make no sound. He is good at it, usually, but the day has already been long. He has been tracking the Fiend for most of the day, and now he thinks he might have found its lair.

His sword lies heavy in his hand, his armor a solid weight over his shoulders. On any other night, he wouldn’t give it much thought. On any other night, he would tighten the straps and trudge on.

But tonight, his muscles are already fighting him. Tonight, the soft light of the moon is almost as bright as the sun, every sound loud to his potion-sensitive hearing.

He knows it will take him just as many hours to get back to the inn, back to his… his friend. Geralt is not used to having someone waiting for him, despite all the years they have spent together. Jaskier still being there baffles him every time, but tonight, oh, tonight he wants nothing more than to be with him back in their room.

He grips his sword tighter, fishes out one of his prepared oils and coats the blade quickly. He needs to be quick about it, he can feel Cat already draining out of his system, and with all the other things he has taken in preparation, he will feel like shit if he drinks more.

Geralt steps quietly, and inside, the Fiend roars.

The walk is fucking long. Geralt barely has the energy to return the sword to its scabbard on his back. He is not sure how to bring the fiend's head to the alderman. As it is, he can barely stand up. The potions are finally burning out, leaving his body a shaking, shivering mess. His muscles ache and there is a pounding behind his eyes and in his temples. His knuckles are white from holding such a tight grip. He is lucky the Fiend didn’t manage to cut through his armour, but he suspects he will have some heavy bruising over his back in the next few days, even with his mutagen-enhanced healing.

He could just sit down for a while and meditate. Just for an hour. He could.

He just doesn’t want to.

Before all this, before the bard, he might have. But now all Geralt can think of is a soft bed, a friendly presence, a hot bath.

He is trying not to think too much about Jaskier, but as he hoists his trophy over his shoulder and starts the long way back, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander.

Towards that brilliant smile when Geralt says something that makes him laugh, towards those strong arms that somehow manage to hold whatever Geralt throws at him. Towards those cornflower blue eyes that see so much more than Geralt even expected, toward that clever tongue that can cut or please with words alone.

He thinks about how on rare occasions, Jaskier would hug him. And once the thought has struck him, Geralt can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders if Jaskier would hold him tonight. That would probably be nice. And most likely filthy, considering today's activities. Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t care.

Those thoughts keep Geralt occupied as he finds his way back. He ignores his body's protests, his knees creaking. The stars are slowly replaced with the first light of day, the sky shifting and changing into the soft colors of morning.

Geralt has seen it so many times, and no matter how tired he is, he always has to take a moment and just take it in. He stops in the middle of a field, putting the Fiend head on the ground as he looks up and just breathes.

This is when he notices how close he is to the village. The forest and the hills are behind him, and only open fields lay between him and Jaskier.

Just a little further.

Jaskier actually meets him, just as the sun peaks up over the edge of the world. There is a light mist in the air as the ground fights off the night cold, and when Geralt spots Jaskier, he just stops.

He is not hurt in any way, he has just run out of energy. Jaskier comes towards him with a spring in his step, and the moment he reaches the witcher, he starts fussing. Geralt lets him, wincing when Jaskier touches the torn armor over his back. That is when he finally steps back. Grabbing Jaskier's hips, he pulls him closer and drops his head to Jaskier’s shoulder. He sighs. Finally, finally he made it.

Jaskier is silent, still for a moment. When it becomes clear that Geralt isn’t going to let go, Jaskier huffs and wraps his arms over Geralt’s lower back, mindful of the shredded armor and the apparent bruises.

They stand there for a long while, Jaskier only protesting when Geralt leans a little too hard on him.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, you big oaf. At least not here. Let’s go back to the inn.”

Jaskier pulls back and leads Geralt by the hand towards the village. They drop by the alderman quickly, meeting him in the door to trade the head for a bag of coins, and off they go.

Geralt fumbles with the straps of his armor, puts his swords and boots away. Jaskier only has to help him to remove the shredded pieces, and Geralt hisses when it puts pressure on the bruises.

There is a soft press of lips to the back of his shoulder and gone again, so soft he could have imagined it. He is too tired to comment now. It might have been his imagination, his wishful thinking.

Then Jaskier takes his hand again, and leads him towards the bed. They have two, but Jaskier follows him down into this one, laying on his back and placing Geralt atop of himself. They shift around until they both are comfortable, and Geralt ends up with his chin back on Jaskier’s shoulder, his arm resting over Jaskier’s chest, and Jaskier’s hand tracing gentle patterns over his sides.

The village wakes up outside, the sun rising higher and higher. But inside, behind a locked door in a soft bed with a bard in his arms, Geralt can finally rest.

Family

This isn't sad, I promise.

Early morning was always so peaceful. The blanket of fog that draped over your yard was so calming. Early morning was when every animal, every form of life began its day, including your small family.

“My, My, Y/N, you’ve taken to motherhood so beautifully, I feel useless for the first time” Sitting down on the engawa Shinobu placed a quilt on the ground in front of you. You smiled at her, placing the bundle in your arms carefully on the grey and black fabric.

“Thank you, It’s only been two days but you and Amane have both been so helpful. The letters she sends have been such a wonderful help. I’m excited for Kyojuro to get home.” She nodded, looking down at your daughter, her rosy cheeks poking out of the blanket you had her swaddled in.

“I wrote to him as soon as you went into labor, so he knows. Hopefully he arrives home soon, we haven’t heard much.”

“Yes, I know, the last time he wrote was a couple days ago so I do hope he arrives soon. I was hoping Hinata would wait but she was ready to say hi. Huh my beautiful girl?” You smiled at your baby, her big yellow eyes that mimicked her fathers stared up at you, taking in the world she had waited so long to see. The fog had begun its ascent as the three of you sat outside, the calm and cool morning air was a blessing to enjoy with your baby, another beautiful day was beginning.

“Senjuro will be here soon won’t he?” Shinobu shifted next to you, moving to get up. “He is here everyday, such excitement in a young boy, he’s a good brother” You chuckled at the thought. The religious visits from your brother in law were a joy, watching him cuddle and love his Niece. He was one of the few people you trusted to keep an eye on her while you used the restroom or made yourself some tea.

“He is a very good young man, just like Kyojuro. I feel lucky to have both of them.” Shinobu stood, stretching the last of the exhaustion out of her body.

“Have you eaten yet?” You shook your head, not looking up. “Go eat, there is fresh fruit from Tengen in there if you don’t want anything heavy, but you need to keep your strength up. It's only been two days since she was born, it takes a lot out of your body. I shall sit with her” You looked up, nodding in understanding. Creating life and bringing it into the world was by no means easy. It was soul wrenching, hot, unsettling, so painful. You felt so happy though, to have such helpful and dedicated friends who made it as smooth as it could have been. No complications, no accidents, it was all you could ask for. Well, maybe not all.

“Yes, That should be good. Sitting here all day waiting for him may drive me crazy” You laughed, getting up so Shinobu can take your seat.

You arrived back at the engawa not long after you left, deciding just to snack on the cherries and pears you had received from Tengen days ago. A gift for ‘good luck’ he mentioned, chuckling as he went on his way. Shinobu had moved from where she sat, walking around the yard as she cooed and whispered to your bundle of love. Her purple bangs were falling into Hinata’s face, a great toy for small curious hands as they walked.

“You will be bald before the sun is at its peak!” Shinobu looked up, a soft smile on her lips as she walked up to you, prying the small fingers from her hair.

“You might be right, she definitely is a strong little girl” You sat on the edge of the engawa, legs hanging off the side as you leaned to see your daughter. The wisps of blonde hair that lined her head were out of sorts, a mess, just like her fathers usually was. The yellow and pink blanket you had her swaddled in was slipping as she moved around in it, revealing more of her white onesie and her arms. She opened and closed her mouth, small gurgles coming from her as she reached out absently.

“I can’t get tired of looking at her, she brings me such joy. So beautiful, so perfect” You cooed, taking the bundle from Shinobu and laying her on your shoulder, rocking her back and forth. “She’s so warm too, so much like Kyojuro, He will be so ex-” Your sentence was cut short as the front gate creaked open, Senjuro poking his head in and smiling.

“Sis! You’ll never guess who I met on my way over!” He stepped inside your yard, opening the door more for the person with him. Kyojuro came in behind him, a Kakushi assisting him inside as he limped further into the yard. A large grin appeared on his paler face, cheeks darkening as he met your eyes.

“Sunflower” He breathed, trying to step forward, a hobble in his step. As you looked over him you noticed why he seemed to struggle. His arm that rested on his bandaged stomach, the bruises that lined it. He looked tired, thoroughly worn out from whatever it was that he had faced. His hair had been tied back, out of his face and the bandage that covered his left eye. Shinobu immediately ran over, assisting Kyojuro to waddle over the engawa, pained breaths escaping him with every step. He groaned as they helped him sit next to you, Senjuro taking his small amount of items from him and running them into the estate. “Hello” His smile didn’t leave his face as he turned to you, taking in the sight before him. The closer look you had at him made you want to cry. The dried blood that was peeking out from his bandaged eye, his bloodied and bruised knuckles as he moved to push your hair out of your face, his hand hovering over the bundle on your shoulder. You noticed, moving her so she laid in your arms, curious eyes meeting with Kyojuros as she also looked him over.

“Hinata” Was all you managed, watching as she reached out for her father, the unspoken bond between parents and their children already forming between them. He sucked in a breath, leaning closer to her.

“Hello sunshine, my pretty girl. I’m sorry I'm late, daddy was busy but now I'm here. I’m all yours now” he looked up, winking before he turned back to her wiggly body.

“Do you want to hold her?” He sat up straight, wincing.

“I don’t know if i can” He looked over at Shinobu and The kakushi who had moved to the side, talking about Kyojuros mission and condition.

“I’ll help” You stood, moving to stand in front of him. “Remember, support her head, and her butt, she's still getting that strength” You repeated the things Shinobu had told you as he hesitantly held out his hands, staring at her while you carefully placed her in them, hands hovering below.

“She’s so small, she looks like you” He looked up, tears forming in his eyes “She's perfect, i’m sorry i wasn’t here. When I got the letter, I-” He choked, looking back down as the cooing bundle. “I was so upset, but she is perfect. You did beautifully, look at her. So warm and perfect” He repeated it, chanting it to himself as he continued to look down at her.

“Y/N says she looks like you, she wants her to have your hair” Senjuro piped up from beside you, scaring you as you instinctively stepped back. “Her farts are gross though” He sat down next to his brother, wiggling his fingers in her face and making kissy noises. Kyojuro laughed, watching his brother enjoy his time with his daughter. Senjuro held his hands out, a silent question to hold her.

“I will allow it this once because I just got home and lack the proper strength, be calm Senjuro '' He chided, hands carefully moving her into Senjuro arms as the younger Rengoku cuddled her close to him. Kyojuro turned back to you, hands taking yours in his own.

“She’s beautiful, have you been well? Please sit with me” he pulled on your hands, moving you to sit on the other side of him.

“Shinobu has been taking very good care of me and Hinata. Between her, Senjuro, and Amanes letters I think we're being spoiled rotten” You smiled, pulling your hand out of his to cup his cheek, thumb running over the bandage on his face. “Are you okay? Maybe you should go rest for a bit, Visit Hinata more when you wash up and rest”

“I am better than before, knowing you are both doing so well. She is more than I could have hoped for, you both are, my two perfect people. My beautiful family.” He leaned into the palm of your hand, eyes fluttering shut as he took a deep breath. “I love coming home, but now I'm afraid I may never leave you two.” he chuckled, opening his eyes and turning to place a kiss on your palm.

“My flame, That's all I could ask for. Plus, I think Senjuro may try to steal her from us” He smiled again, nodding.

Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato.  You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don’t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him.  That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly.  “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

Worth The Eternity: Dark! Bucky x Reader (Vampire AU + Mob AU + Soulmate AU)

This is for @cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge. Congratulations, keep slaying! I wrote this instead of studying, so pray for my paper please lmao.

A/N: This tired girl tried. 

WARNINGS: something between dubcon and noncon present. Triggering, darkish themes.

Summary of sorts: Ever seen Hotel Transylvania 1/2/3? In this AU, mythical creatures exist and have soulmates and you feel a zing if you are blessed enough to encounter them.

"Boss, we narrowed it down to these core three suspects.” A husky voice, slightly muffled by the sack on your head, entered your ears and you had a hard time being calm.

You had been picked up from your office, specifically the basement of Oscorp Industries while entering your sleek silver car. A pinch in your neck and everything comically blurred. Next thing you know, you are waking up with your entire body sore, your muscles and joints screaming and begging for freedom from tight restraints. Your vision is black, as if you are staring into an abyss and your vision is filled with white and red dancing spots forming patterns, maybe from the hours of inactivity.

Muffled noises of protest and scraping of metal against the concrete floor entered your ears and you realized you are not the only one here held captive. You racked your mind for possible explanations but couldn’t come up with one.

You lived a very simple life, even as the vice president of Oscorp industries. No messing around, no rivalries with other employees, no butting heads with the seniors on the Director’s board. Was this a ploy against the company? Or a domination statement against the weaker species, the humans?

Lucky enough for you, you realized you would soon find out as the sound of a shutter opening and metal clanking noisily filled your ears.

“Took you long enough, Scott. Fill me in.” Another brooding voice reprimanded jokingly and a million goosebumps traveled the path of your skin as you involuntarily shuddered.

“Yes Boss. We tracked the missing sum to the account of this man on the left. He has fourteen other accounts under different names and nationalities, pretty hard to trace but not impossible luckily. This proved he is shady so he’s most definitely involved.”

“This ginger on the right, he made the suspicious call with weird words so we believe he pretty much passed the verdict, calling the shots with the codewords. He has had several surgeries, his face is fucking silicon at this point but his DNA showed us his true identity, Mr. Rumlow here is the Consigliere of The Midnight Moon.”

You sat and listened, piecing together whatever you understood. The pack/mob name more than rung a bell, it scared you shitless. You were quick to catch on, realising that you were caught in an inter species scruffle.

“This shit just got interesting folks. Alright, where does Miss Sexy Legs fit in all this?”

The pencil skirt you wore wasn’t the most modest piece of clothing to exist and the spaghetti straps blouse was a bad choice considering the sheer coldness in this warehouse, the temperature only seemed to go down with the entry of your kidnappers but it’s not like you knew this was going to happen.

You could only assume with your legs on display that you were the one being sexualised and talked about.

“We are not sure about her though, that’s why I said suspects. We have proof the call was made from her phone but the videos show her lending it to a creepy stranger at a café. It might be really good acting but it’s highly unlikely. We brought her in because in the transfer of the stolen cash, her account was an intermediary but it’s a good chance that she was tricked when her phone was borrowed by Mr. Rumlow. Also, she’s a human, you see?”

If it was you being talked about, you felt a jot of relief, just a smudge because at least they were aware you weren’t involved in whatever game they were playing. That didn’t necessarily ensure your freedom, but hey, you were willing to take anything at that point.

“That’s the sweet fucking scent I keep on smelling!” The leader exclaimed as if he made a great discovery, a cure for a pandemic or cancer you’d think. His gruff voice almost had a light, cheery undertone to it, too unlike of a man who was wronged and cheated and was close to murdering someone no doubt. These mobsters are always maniacs like The Joker.

“It sucks that you brought her here. She might not be guilty, but now she knows too much. She’d make a good blood bag though. Maybe I’ll just have a taste, who knows?” The ‘boss’ made a disturbing slurping noise and your heart stopped at his words, a tear almost escaping your eye.

Discussion about drinking blood? You were most definitely in The Vamps territory, your assumption about the inter-species conflict true. You had no doubt you were the weakest in this creepy space, the frailest here, most probably the only human.

“Show me the bastards’ faces.” Like the flip of a switch, the joking man swapped his personality and all but growled. You heard the ripping of cloth and a man gagging, his shrieks muffled. Another flurry of movements and another man retching on the fabric could be heard.

“Well, hello Mr. Rumlow. I must say, brown suited you better.” A horde of chuckles made you widen your eyes, even though only black still filled your vision, as you realised there were at least a dozen twisted, sick men in the room. The fact that they were silent as fuck till now only showed you how disciplined and regimented these soldiers were.

“This one has a pretty face, boss.” You felt the sack ripped off you, and your eyes closed with the sudden flooding of the lights. Your eyes sealed due to hours of inactivity and you kept them shut, afraid to face your tormenter.

A cold hand cupped your cheek and straightened your face that was trying to hide itself in your silky locks by curling in your own neck, the cool metal of rings and insanely icy fingers chilling you literally.

“Open your eyes sweetheart.” A voice called out behind you and you gathered enough courage to face your impending doom, the air as silent as the calm before a storm.

Your orbs opened and gazed into piercing sapphire blue eyes and everything behind this chiseled face blurred. You could swear a ring of pink and red passed over his eyes and you shuddered again, getting overwhelmed due to the eye contact yourself. This wasn’t the usual anxiety you felt while meeting new people, it was somehow both a pull and a push. An inviting comforting pull and a terrifying, ‘stay cautious' push.

You, a self-sufficient woman, who had been independent for as long as you could remember, suddenly felt half; incomplete in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You felt an attraction, a tug towards the man in front of you, and the absurdity of the thoughts and emotions that popped in your brain made you heave on the gag.

Your intellect couldn’t find a reason, your view on love and romance until now completely conflicted. You believed soulmates to be separate pieces of art that complemented each other when together; then what was this broken jigsaw puzzle sentiment you were having now?

Your wide eyes somehow managed to break free of his stare, panicking and looking around to observe, which wasn’t comforting in the least as men with guns and gadgets filled your vision. You were relatively unharmed in comparison to the beaten lads beside you, one with a bruised face and the other with a bloody one.

The handsome man, the Boss’s stare didn’t leave you through the entirety of your searching around, you were sure they saw you as a scared little rabbit, waiting out its inevitable death.

“Lost in her eyes, Boss?” The sideman cracked what he believed to be the funniest joke in existence, earning laughs of the horde of the soldiers around.

 Your eyes went to the Boss’s face, surprisingly when his left your face to glare a nasty stare on his trusted man. His muscular form raised the forelimb, his hand signaling to stop, that effectively quietened the room to a pin drop silence.

With gentle fingers, the man took off your gag and yours lips quivered, throat too dry to make a noise though. You greedily gulped the air through your mouth for whatever reason, maybe just to move your jaw after hours of inactivity.

Maintaining eye contact was challenging, arduous to say the least. It seemed as if he could read you, find everything about you there is to find by studying the flecks in your orbs. His delicate hands, loosened the ties and you were now more so confused, along with the trepidation.

Just what the fuck was going on?

Bucky had almost lost hope, centuries on this planet and no one to love and cherish, no personal confidante, no soulmate. But good things take time, right? And in his opinion, best things take an eternity. He knows this now.

Expect the unexpected was the truest phrase, idiom whatever it was, in this moment. He had spent countless nights wondering about his soulmate, was she pretty? Ugly? Was she even a she or not? Dumb or witty? He made a lot of scenarios of how they’d meet, the kids, reigning together. He entertained the idea of her being from a different species, a nymph, an orc, maybe a werewolf?

And now that he found her, it was a revelation, a surprise honestly. After all optimism got evaporated, after traveling the dark tunnel for centuries literally, there she was, his beacon of light. Finding her was a wonder, and her being a human was astonishing, a possibility he somehow failed to consider, but he was over the moon cause there she was, right in front of him now. A beautiful, stunning lady in flesh and blood, human flesh and blood, with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. His zing.

He always liked humans, apart from the similar appearances the vampires shared with them, they were always docile and accommodating. In the last few millenniums, after the mythical creatures showed themselves to the world, the humans understood their place and tier pretty early.

They were smart to surrender and be peaceful as all the species came to light, clever to know that even with less numbers they could be overpowered and bloodshed was detrimental to all involved.

He knew he would convert you soon though, your lifespan far too short for his liking, and obviously, now that he found you, you were to rule together. For Centuries.

His happiness was over taken by the realisation that you were not in the most hospitable settings, you were tied and strapped, being preyed on by his men. He made quick work of the restraints, allowing you to breathe by loosening them first. Your scared, trembling form plucked his unbeating heart’s strings, but strangely enough, his brain found amusement and he felt smug. Seeing you tied up and trembling was definitely a turn on for him, noted.

After commanding his foolish men to stop giggling, he leaned closer to you, your aura comforting and intoxicating as he smelled your hair. A divine scent, an addictive one for sure. The goosebumps on your skin confirmed the reciprocation of his connection.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” His husky voice, calming but imposing resonated in your ears, his hand tapping your cheek on the other side. Even though the private statement was whispered for you, the deafening silence made every person witness it.

He leaned back, his hands behind his back as he grinned, tone again light like earlier and commanded, “Get her out of here and cleaned up, tell Nat and Wanda, they’ll know what I mean. Then we’ll deal with these guys here, after the lady leaves of course. No scratch on her from this point forward or you’ll lose a limb. Proceed.”  

All three of you, the hostages were going to get ‘taken care of’ but in different ways.

It had been over twenty hours for sure, you were abducted in the early hours of the morning and now the moon was out again, like one endless night. You remember being escorted to a sleek black car; your limbs ached but you managed to keep up. You tried to keep up with the car’s turns, trying to memorize the streets but your head was pounding and eyes were blurry.

You remembered being led to a suite in an expensive hotel like ones where your conferences were held, being taken to room and given towels to clean up. You didn’t change the dress when given another, the attire being a summer dress even shorter.  A woman came a while later named Wanda who checked the forming light contusions and scuffed skin with hands so delicate, as if you were precious cargo. You were, you just didn’t know.

You didn’t eat anything they provided and after hours of conspiring and overthinking, you heard sturdy footsteps. Since your arrival, only women bothered with you, probably the ones the leader sent. But these were heavier, harder.

The door opened and you glanced up to find the leader who demanded your locking up in this fancy place, his eyes travelling on your form sat up on bed, as you mindfully pulled your skirt down. You were anxious the entire day, dreading your future but nothing was like the restlessness that ran through you in this person’s presence.

Maybe it was the fact he was a vampire, or the leader of a Mob or maybe both, but whatever it was he intimidated you, alarmed you, even though you’ve had only two encounters including the present one. You were smart to be scared, he looked at you like, like you were something to eat, your mind told you.

“Hey.” His raspy voice caught you off guard, not having heard a single syllable out of the women the entire day, your questions being ignored the entire time.

You stared at him warily. Your mind having a myriad of emotions and thoughts. You didn’t want to trigger him, besides the place being armed well, he was a vampire, a beefy one at that and you would be stupid to try anything. Shouting and making a scene was no good either, your best option being the lamest one: to talk it out. You refused to become a willing blood bag.

You let out a long sigh, surprising him somehow, “Look, I have money, resources in the business sphere, information, what do you want? I know I got caught in this by accident, but I’m willing to do a lot of things to get out. Name it and I’ll do my best.” You said with your ‘business deal’ voice, the wise, guiding leader voice from your office.

For some reason though, the man found it hilarious. He slapped his hand on his chest, his boisterous laugh echoing. It wasn’t that good a joke if he believed it to be one. Men, ever so condescending.

“Humans, ever so gluttonous. I don’t want your money, precious.” His term of endearment didn’t fall short to your ears, but you had larger things in play here than a sweet nothing.  

“I have other things to offer, name it.” Within your moral sphere, of course.

“You still don’t get it, do you? And you humans boast you have everything figured about us.”

He neared you and you leaned to the inner area of the bed, refusing to get cornered to the wall if things escalate and wanting to have the option of running away, probably in vain though. With each step he took, a new shudder ran through you because of the closing distance between your bodies, it getting triggered in unexplainable ways.

You didn’t need to say words to prompt him to explain, your scrunched eyebrows already doing that mission. “You should feel it too, you know? The goosebumps, the bewilderment in your insides, you’re intoxicated by my very presence too, aren’t you?”

The more he neared, your breaths quickened visibly, his words becoming truer. Your skin heating, mind losing a bit of consciousness. His presence didn’t affect you to this extent in the warehouse, but now? You were putty, almost incapable to think. You tried to roll over to the other side but your plan failed because he caged you with his bulky hands on your shoulder, body diagonal across yours. With how slow and out of it you were, he didn’t even need his heightened speed to trap you.

“Oh, it’s kicking in, isn’t it? The realization, the surge of love and lust? To be held and cherished and be full of me?” He smirked at your trembling form, your chest heaving and weak arms trying to push him off.

“I’ve read humans feel flushed, hot, so let’s get you out of these scraps, yes?” He slid off the thin straps while you mumbled a very unconvincing ‘stop’. Both actions were pretty pointless because he wouldn’t stop, you both knew that and also, he ended up taking the top off over your torso the normal way.

Your hands barely managed to land themselves on his wrist to pull them off, but the foolish limbs ravished in the feel of his cold skin instead. It was like a high you had never experienced and your body wanted more. It was already addicted to the feel of this stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

He unzipped the skirt, your pathetic body no longer even fighting him as he rambled on. “Among us vampires, well not much to tell but we’re all freezing cold when we find our ‘zing’. Like every normal day. Except for the inability to think and the need for their mate’s blood, of course.”

He came back up to kiss you, his body now in line with yours as one hand held your cheek and the other groped your breast. You had an out of body experience, feeling disgusted for reciprocating the kiss but also wanting more of that, more of him.

He trailed down your neck to your collarbone and you gasped for air, your thoughts incoherent. He kissed between the valley of your breasts, removing the bra sometime in between as you heaved. He wanted nothing more than to rest in those swells for an eternity.

As soon as cold air hit your nipples, one was being sucked while other was being pinched. The nameless stranger alternated between licking like a kitten and sucking like a baby on the breasts. Your rational part felt gross but the dominating side was the one experiencing delight.

He kissed down the sternum, to your bellybutton and then hovered above the thin, flimsy underwear. His hands slid down your sides, down the curve of your waist and hooked themselves at the cloth’s side, pulling them down in a swift motion.

Your legs quaked, trying to close themselves but one muscular arm on your thigh was able to hold them off, throw one away from the other. He leaned down and you were pathetically still under his muscles, your lower limbs either not daring to move or not wanting to.

You wrapped your hands around your torso to hide a bit of yourself, but did that really matter in the larger picture of the events unfolding right now?

You closed your eyes, tears already escaping since minutes ago as you tried to accept the reality of what was happening. A cold sensation on your little button caught you off guard; an infinitesimal fraction of time later, an inhale reached your ears.

You looked down, opening your eyes to find the man smelling you, his Grecian nose poking through your folds and taking in sniffs of your intimate part.

“Please sto-”      

“The scent at its source, so fucking divine. I want a taste.” With that, your sentence got interrupted by his words and then by his action as his tongue licked away. It sucked on the bead, delving in the cavity there pretty fucking deep and he slurped away like he pretended to do when you were blindfolded.

Your back arched like a gymnast, hands that were folded across your chest clawing at your own skin, leaving marks behind. His hands were hooked around your thighs and they threw your legs on his shoulder some point in between. When he thrusted three fingers at once, an audible wheeze left your lips, your noiseless gasps now hoarse ‘Aah’s and you could feel him smirk.

There a also a lot of teeth involved with his razor sharp canines that appeared out of nowhere during this and when he thrusted his fingers particularly hard with his teeth nibbling on your sensitive bud, you shamelessly let go of the inside flow.

It felt humiliating and mortifying, your body glowing with the aftereffects of descending into bliss while your mind wanted to cry. Your soul was surprisingly content with what unfolded, at peace. You hated the diversity of emotions you felt, revolted to find even a bit of positive sentiment at your assaulter’s actions.

While your inner monologue happened, the man got up and out of his clothes painfully quick. You tried to sit your up, feebly trying to escape but ineffectively so. Your eyes couldn’t meet the handsome stranger’s nor did you want to see him naked and removed him form your eyeline, making you get caught off guard when his hands wrapped around your ankles and pulled you down, finishing the small distance you managed to crawl up.

His hands left their place as he kissed his way back up your flushed skin, from the swell of your ankle to the swell of your stomach. He licked away the drops of blood around the crescent scratches left by your nails under the intense ecstasy he forced upon you. Then he continued his journey from the swells of your chest to the swell of your cheek, taking you in a fiery, needy yet affectionate kiss.

Your surroundings blurred a second into the kiss, mouth and skin hungry for his touch alike. A thrust had you painfully gasp as you were stretched unlike ever before, impaled to a depth unlike ever before. He kissed away your tears that continued to spill on command of your ashamed mind and leaned back to look into your eyes, a pretty pink passing over them for a fleeting second.

His blue orbs bore into yours and you almost believed he loved you by the intensity of his gaze. At this moment in time, nothing but you two mattered, connected and finally together. How you got here didn’t matter, how unwilling you were didn’t matter. This felt right, felt necessary and was worthy of everything you went through. The rational part seemed to die the instant you two physically connected and somehow, everything and nothing made sense.

But you felt complete.

Your lips captured his of their own accord, and you both smiled into the caress of your lips while he began thrusting, one hand on your waist, the other supporting his weight. Out of breath, he leaned back, still thrusting though, and gazed at you. “Scott back there, he called you pretty, that’s practically an insult. The way you look right now, you’re much more than beautiful. You’re ethereal, my Zing, the loveliest in existence.”

His genuine words tugged at your heart. For some reason you believed him, had confidence in his feelings. Your foreheads connected as he quickened, his hand caressing your skin, the cool against your warm skin soothing. It didn’t take long for you to let go again this time; your previous resolution already dissolved. He neared your ears and whispered, “I want you to scream my name. It’s Bucky.” You nodded absentmindedly, chasing the high.

One particular thrust paired with his canines piercing your skin made you cry out “Bucky!” and you felt him smirking in your neck, lapping the blood. You wilted in bliss and your eyes closed, warmth filling you minutes after. Your eyes were dazed and you felt ‘Bucky’ shift, removing his towering frame from you, a goofy smile on the chiseled face.

With mind free of the aforementioned disapproving thoughts, you checked out his handsome face. It was like you saw him in an entirely different light now.

He gave you a quick peck, his hands cradling your face and he spoke with the utmost sincerity. “You are worth the wait, precious. No measure of time with you will be long enough. But we’ll start with forever to compensate. I’m never letting you go.”

We met in online class - Last Part

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 3.4k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | You are on the Last Part

A/N: And so it comes to an end, and let me tell you guys, I am not okay 😔 This is going to be a bit of a longer A/N, so please bear with me. If you’d like to get straight to the story, I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND, so feel free to click Keep Reading!

Lowkey, I had a bit of a meltdown as I typed the final words on this fic because I hadn’t realized how attached I had grown to the characters. This is the first time I wrote three different chapter openers before deciding on one, because I simply couldn’t believe it was goodbye after this.

These mofos had constantly been on my mind for the past two months and a half. I would spend most days thinking about where to take them and then bringing them to life at night, after my entire day was over. When I wasn’t writing, I’d make little notes about thoughts I had into the night about them so that I wouldn’t forget them when morning comes. 

This was my first ever (and as of right now, my only) chaptered fic. I had no idea parting with it would be as emotional as it was. When I think back to when I first received the prompt for this, I had never even imagined I could write Renjun, let alone a series. But there was something in the prompt that had gotten my wheels turning. And I am so immensely glad that it did. There were days when I thought “Oh man, what have I gotten myself into.” Some days, the story would just flow. Other days, I’d keep staring at the blinking cursor not knowing what to type. But when I did, I found my emotions so deeply connected with the characters. I was happy when they were happy. I was sad when they were sad. So, parting with them is very hard to say the least.

But through this journey, I got to experience the joy of reading all of your reviews and comments and honestly, it made it all worth it. THANK YOU to every single one of you that read this story and waited on it and laughed and cried with it. You have made my life better in more ways than you can imagine.

In this moment, I want to thank 🍙 anon, because it was their prompt that put me in this mess in the first place. And so, it is only fitting that I dedicate the final part to them 💛

“Oh, we definitely need a picture together. How about here? I think this place would fit everyone.” Kim Doyoung looks about, finding a spot best suited for the photo he wanted.

“I think right there on the platform would be better. We could get everyone in two tiers.” his assistant suggests.

“You’re a genius. Let’s gather everyone. It’s not often that so many NCTU grads and students come to Midnight Arthouse,” Doyoung nods.

“How many of us are here, anyway?” Renjun muses. The assistant looks at her iPad, checking once again.

“I think there’s 23 of you. So, let’s definitely go for the platform.” she nods.

“Okay, then.” Doyoung claps his hands together once, “Gather everyone,” he says to no one in particular and walks ahead with purpose. Renjun and the assistant’s eyes meet and they smirk. Of course this was directed to the both of them. So, they set about to work.

As it would turn out, gathering 23 people from a charity event with art and food and drinks would be a bit of a task. But somehow, they manage to gather all alumni and current students on the platform in three tiers instead of two for a somewhat chaotic picture. There must’ve been something in the water at NCTU because none of it’s students could stand still for very long. They get maybe one decent picture and several in which someone or the other was moving or pulling a face.

His friends aside, looking around at the group, Renjun realized that he recognized nearly all of them. Yangyang and Hendery and the rest of their frat were here. As were the 127s, old and new. Renjun recognized them all, except maybe two boys, who didn’t seem to know a lot of the others either. When the pictures were done and the main events were over and the crowd had started to dissipate, Renjun finally walked over to the artwork to observe it up close.

Honestly speaking, watching the work with his own two eyes left no doubt in his mind that this artist deserved to be spotlighted like this. This work was in a league of its own. Watching it makes Renjun smile; because looking at it makes him think back to a few months ago when he was sitting in Kim Doyoung’s office, thinking of himself as some sort of a big shot. But the truth is, there was no way he had that caliber then, and there is no way he has that caliber now, though he was sure as hell working on it.

“This is the piece I lost the bid on.” Renjun hears a voice and he turns around to see Zhong Chenle’s father observing the art with him. Renjun bows politely and smiles under his mask,

“I mean, this is a remarkable piece. You have good taste.” Renjun acknowledges.

“What about you? Why isn’t any of your artwork displayed here?” he asks and for a while, Renjun smiles a bit nostalgically. He could’ve been here, had he made something for the Annuale. Had he just selfishly taken that shot. Then again, there would’ve been no real guarantees. Because Kim Doyoung was pretty particular in the people he chose, whether they were recommended by his family or not. Working with him closely in the last couple of months had taught Renjun that. It had also taught him how underdeveloped his skill was in the real world context.

“I guess I still have a long way to go.” Renjun replies humbly.

“Don’t we all?” Chenle’s father nods, “Are you working here at this establishment?” 

“Um, I… I suppose I am. I am Kim Doyoung’s apprentice. He is my mentor.” Renjun nods.

“So I might see your work here soon enough, eh?” Renjun assumes the kind man is smiling under his mask because his eyes seem to be making the same shape as Chenle’s do when he smiles. So Renjun grins back.

“I mean… if I work really hard, I might get to shoot my shot in the next Midnight Arthouse Annuale.” Renjun fantasizes.

“Or maybe you’d get lucky like this young artist,” he points his chin towards the artwork.

Renjun smiles, “I would credit her luck, too if I hadn’t seen her work. But her talent is… it kinda speaks for itself.”

“Oh, no, you should definitely credit her luck. Talent isn’t enough. The stars have to align. Luck, talent, the right place, the right time. It all has to come together.” he says nodding. 

Renjun considers his words. They seem to be coming from the wisdom of experience. 

What if Renjun hadn’t received the phone call about his grandma back then? Well, then he probably would’ve made something lackluster and gotten rejected. Working with Kim Doyoung has taught him as much. It didn’t matter who had put a word in for him. At the end of the day, his work had to be outclass.

What if he had received the phone call and then still had enough time to submit something for the Annuale? Then he still probably wouldn’t have because… well, because of you.

What if he had gone ahead, regardless of you or his grandma and just made something and submitted it? Then he still would’ve been rejected. Because the truth of the matter is, he just didn’t have the caliber that artists associated with Midnight Arthouse did.

In that sense, Renjun supposes everything was in fact happening at the right place and right time now. Doyoung was mentoring him and he was getting better by the day. The stars were aligning for him. He knew it in his heart.

“Then I would wish that it all comes together for me, too.” Renjun says.

“When it does, young man, I’ll be the first one to bid on your work.” he says and Renjun doesn’t even have the time to react when he feels a presence breeze in his direction and invade his personal space.

Renjun doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is. He can tell by the way this body fits perfectly into his side. He can tell by how naturally his own body responds and just puts his arm around it’s waist.

“Oh man, I missed all of it, didn’t I?” you lament, as you loop your arms around his neck from the side instead of a hello.

“Not all of it. The guys just left but your brother and his friends are still here. Besides, you had work.” Renjun turns his head and looks into your eyes to reassure you. “Y/N, this is Chenle’s father.”

“Oh, hello!” you say cheerfully and respectfully bow and give you greetings. “It is so nice to meet you. Chenle looks just like you!”

“Yes, I’ve been told I’m a more handsome version of him,” he smiles then turns to Renjun, “And who might this young lady be?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N. She goes to NCTU with us.” Renjun introduces you and you bow again. Oh, the thrill he got every time he got to introduce you as his girlfriend. Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’d never tire of it, even if it had just been a few months. The serotonin boost in his veins is strong and he gets the urge to squeeze you and hold you forever.

“Oh, that’s very nice. Come have a meal with us before we have to catch a plane back home, okay?” Chenle’s father invites the two of you. 

“Oh, I would love to!” you say in your chipper tone before your eyes start darting around “I’m going to have to excuse myself for a little bit, I just wanna say hi to my brother.” you say and you politely bow before you start moving away.

“Babe, hang on…” Renjun says, holding you back by your hand. He brings his fingers delicately to the bridge of your nose and softly pinches down the mask over it so it sits more snugly on you. “There, it’s much safer now.” Renjun nods and watches the affectionate smile your eyes give before you move away. You looked so pretty today, even if you were just coming back from a four-hour internship. You were easily the most beautiful girl in this room, though Renjun suspected that you’d be the most beautiful girl in any room you entered. 

Albeit sometimes, Renjun had to wonder if your talent or your beauty was greater. Because you had become the only junior in NCTU to land an internship at the SMK Trainee Drive. And now that you were a senior, you were somehow managing to keep your grades up alongside it. 

Renjun, on the other hand, would find himself struggling with balancing his apprenticeship with his school work. So he knew firsthand how your discipline was something else altogether. Recently though, he had experienced a rise in his grades because you had been taking him on so many study dates that your organizational skills and motivation had started to rub off on him.

Renjun walks around the studio and the party and feels like it’s been too long till you’re finally back by his side. 

“Love in the Time of Corona,” you read the title of an art piece displayed in front of you. “That was supposed to be our thing.”

Renjun laughs and has no qualms in looping his arms around your waist and finally pulling you into himself.

“I guess we should’ve realized then how un-novel the idea would become in a few months.” he comments. 

“Un-novel is not a word, Huang Renjun.” you narrow your eyes at him.

Renjun laughs. “It is now,” he says and lets out a long exhale, “I missed you today.” he complains, though he looks down at you with warmth.

“Well, you’ve got me now. And you have me for the entire weekend.” you reassure him, your palms on his chest.

“Mhmm.” Renjun smiles and he wants to lean in to kiss you. But Kim Doyoung specifically had people assigned to walk around and make sure that everyone had their masks on when inside. “Also, we already have a thing.” he reminds you and winks.

You laugh, and say “I guess we do,” then let out a happy sigh as your eyes avert from his for a moment, taking in your surroundings. “Our Couple Thing should give you some ideas on what you can make when your work is displayed here in the 2022 Annuale. I won’t be late to that, I promise. I’ll take a day off from everything else in my life.”

Renjun's heart grows warmer still, and he’s sure his eyes reflect what he feels, “How can you be so sure my work will be displayed in the 2022 Annuale?”

“I don’t know, Huang Renjun. I just have a feeling about you.” you say and Renjun can see you smile even if your lips are covered by a mask. Your eyes always smiled before your mouth did, anyway.

“Y/N L/N, I have a feeling about you, too.” he retorts. 

“And what feeling would that be?” you raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a secret.” he says, but now he sees your pout, even if he can’t see your mouth because your cheeks have puffed up over the mask. It makes him laugh.

“You’re no fun.” you protest.

“I’ll tell you once we get out of here.” Renjun offers.

“Well, I’m ready to leave.” you jut your chin up. Renjun grins and offers you his arm. You grab it with your entire body and the two of you start walking out together.

You had plans for the weekend, after all. And Renjun was determined to keep you all to himself for once, with no one else demanding your time. Not your internship, not your assignments, not any of your friends, and especially not Lee fucking Donghyuck. He was finally going to take you away where it could just be you and him and nobody else.

This moment felt way too surreal to Renjun.

The campfire had simmered down from a glorious roar to a comfortable burn, giving off just enough heat in the cool of an early winter evening. The sky was in it’s fading moments, where the pink of the light was slowly turning to violets and the violets were slowly merging into darks. 

Renjun remembered suggesting to you all that time ago that maybe you could go somewhere together. But now that he was here, he hadn’t imagined that the moment would feel as surreal as it did. 

Because now the two of you are sitting in front of your tent by the fire, entwined in one another. You’re sitting between his legs, arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek inside his padded jacket while he supports your head on his arm and kisses you.

He’s holding you in his arms and kissing you and everything seems so perfect that for a moment, he has to pull away to watch your face and wonder if all of this was real. And though there is a gentle smile on your face, you’re not opening your eyes much. Because you know full well that Renjun’s lips would be back on yours in no time. So you play with his hair as they fall to his forehead and when he kisses you again, you press up into him so he would wrap his arms around you and hold you tighter. He does and he rubs his hands up and down your back and attempts to close his jacket around you.

“Are you cold?” he asks lovingly. You shake your head.

“No. I just want to crawl inside you.” you say, like it’s the most logical thing to be said.

“Creepy.” Renjun remarks but holds you closer still.

“You should be happy you haven’t seen my collection of your hair clippings.” you quip as you nip into the skin of his neck.

“Oh, sweet. That rivals all your used tissues I’ve kept in my shrine at home.”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” you coo at him and then lean up to kiss him some more and he laughs. But soon, he pushes the arm that you were using like a pillow up so your face would be closer to his and he could kiss you as deeply as he was truly craving. 

The two of you keep kissing like that till the sky is dark. It was an odd sort of trance, being so lost in one another that neither of you cared about what time it was or how long you had been sitting here, wrapped up in one another. Your phones were zipped away in your bags and you hadn’t checked them even once since you had parked your camping van and set up your tent. It was a slow, peaceful sort of bliss, just sitting by the fire and kissing and kissing with nothing else on your minds but being here like this with one another.

“Renjun?” you say, your voice sounding like it was returning from a deep thought.

“Hmm?” Renjun asks as he combs your hair away from your pretty face.

“You know, I learnt today that a cactus can live anywhere between 10 and 200 years.” you tell him, idly tracing the birthmark on the back of his hand.

Renjun leans in and presses long into your lips. “Yeah?” he replies and watches your face. It seemed hazily focused, like it was trying to catch onto a faraway thought.

“I also learnt that it can take up to 30 years for a cactus to bear flowers.” you say in an introspective, wistful tone.

Renjun looks away to hide his smile. Oh God, you were so cute. “Yeah?” he says again, but it’s getting more and more difficult to keep a serious face.

“Sometimes, a cactus doesn’t flower at all.” you say and then you turn your head to look at him like you’ve resurfaced from your thoughts and are now in the moment. Renjun’s grin grows wider. “Renjunnn…” you whine and so he has no choice but to tenderly hold your cheeks in his palms and stroke your hair.

“What?” he chuckles.

“You said you’d think you’re worthy of my forgiveness when the cactus bears flowers.” you whine again and Renjun has to plant a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what I said?” he chuckles some more and then leans in to kiss the anxious realization away from your lips. 

“Renjun.” you pout and Renjun laughs and takes his beautiful, whiny, kindhearted girlfriend in his arms and hopes that his hold could chase away all the worries from her pretty, brilliant mind.

He kisses you because his heart can’t bear it any longer. How did he manage to hold a heart like yours in his hand?

Renjun feels an indescribable amount of happiness. Like he wasn’t sure that you were really here with him, in his arms, all for him to hold, with no worry or burden afflicting him. The happiness is so immense and so incredible and so heavy that for a moment, he feels it suffocating him. He wonders if he deserved this kind of happiness.

But right in the next moment, he stops himself. He knew how easy it was to relapse into those tempting, lonesome thoughts. But if there was anything that therapy was teaching him, it was that of course he deserved happiness. 

Though right now, holding you in his arms, this happiness was choking him. He felt like his heart was swelling and pressing against his lungs and his chest couldn’t bear it and he could no longer breathe. 

“Y/N…” he exhales, holding you back so he can look at your face and you could look up into his. He pauses to gather another breath. Then, he just says it. “I love you.”

And doing so does the trick. He feels his chest slowly getting lighter, because this is what it had been bursting with. Now, he’s told you. Now, it can be unburdened.

You look up at him and there is nothing but a sparkle in your eye, and tenderness in your smile. For a while, you say nothing, just looking upon his eyes like that. “Thank you.” you finally whisper back at him.

Renjun pauses for a moment. But then, he relaxes. This was okay. You didn’t have to say it back right away. Renjun was ready to give you as much time as you needed. So he presses his lips into your forehead once again till he feels you laughing against him. He pulls back in confusion and you grab at the lapel of his parka.

“Huang Renjun…” you say and he looks back at you with uncertainty, “... I love you, too.”

And Renjun can’t help it if he kisses you too hard. He can’t help it that he’s squeezing you too tight. He wouldn’t care if the night brightens back into morning and the morning fades back into night. He was going to hold you just like this for the rest of his life. 

So he lays you down and kisses you deeper, like he wanted to make up for all the time he had lost. All the time in his life when he hadn’t known you. All the time he had known you and didn’t let himself have you. He was going to make up for it all. And as he zips the tent up and shields you from the rest of the world, he wonders if he could spend all of his days just like this. Holding you and loving you and knowing that you loved him back; and if he could, today was a damn good day to start.

The fire slows to a simmer till all that’s left are embers that keep being carried away by the breeze. But the two of you remain inside, in your own world, happy that you had found one another, happy that you could finally have one another. Happy that you could hold one another and say that you loved each other and have nothing in the world hold you back, not now, not ever.

You were Y/N and Renjun, Renjun and Y/N, two names that were forever intertwined because that’s how people would call you now. You were the couple that belonged so perfectly with one another that people would wonder if you’d been together for years. And any time someone with a burning curiosity would come up to you and ask,

“So, where did you guys meet?” you would just look at one another, smile and say, “Well, we met in online class.”

~THE END

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