pantalone likes to take pictures of you with his kamera. he says that they’re to keep him warm on the nights he spends away from snezhnaya and the beautiful cage he keeps you in that pretends to be a home, but you know what they are: collateral, in the future, if you dare to think you can leave him—
and you’re right, in a sense. but he’s right, too - because no other delicacy any other nation could offer him in ribbon and satin and lace could live up to the memory of you wide-eyed and willing with your mouth open and your cheeks soft and pinched and your tongue against his cock . . . so they do keep him warm at night.
thinking of a yandere doctor who drugs you silly whenever you show so much as an ounce of fight and smooths back your hair and kisses your forehead with an apologetic smile instead of answering you whenever you ask him when you’ll be “well enough” to go outside again.
syn: as the intern assistant manager in blue lock, your responsibilities are endless and your salary is low. as if that wasn't already bad enough, you wind up drawing the distaste of new gen 11 player vivien hugo, and you don't even know what you did!
or in which, hugo falls in love with you at first sight, but you think he absolutely hates you.
wc: 814
notes: fem pronouns / fluff / no y/n used / miscommunication-ish / they're both stupid your honor / reader is an intern assistant manager (is that a role probably not but who cares) / don't think too hard about how you got to bllk,,, just know that you are there
a/n: this is that idea i posted a little while ago, unfortunately i can't promise this is any good but if people like it enough i might do a little series with them since i do think it's the kind of idea that is better presented over multiple writings (i also realised that hugo's part sounds slightly... ominous/overtly serious (?) but at the same time it is hugo so.) enjoy!
it was supposed to be routine, just another part of your duties as an intern assistant manager to blue lock. helping the foreign teams accommodate, guiding them to training areas and other similar facilities, but how did it end up with france's vivien hugo basically breathing down your neck?!
to put the timeline into place, it started with ego ordering you to help some france players around the blue lock facility. you did ask why loki and charles couldn't just help themselves since, you know, they were here just awhile ago, but he ignored you. such is the life of an intern, you suppose…
anyhow, you greeted loki, charles, and the new member hugo when they arrived. you flowed into an easy conversation with charles, who was as excitable as always, but you couldn't shake the feeling of hugo's eyes piercing into your back, and for some reason it put your body into some form of fight-or-flight. maybe his tall and intimidating stature and blank face had something to do with it…
you could only smile with a slightly strained look as you showed them to one of the training grounds, already set with water bottles and towels for their use. you were more than eager to run away as soon as you could, lest you melt into a puddle of nerves thanks to hugo.
but before you could leave, a hand grabbed your wrist, cornering you, and you knew for a fact that neither loki nor charles was to blame. so, with a bated breath and a short prayer, you turned around to meet hugo's face, that was scarily close to yours.
"you didn't give me your name." his eyes, the pair of black holes that they are, threatened to swallow you whole. you can only hope that your gulp wasn't audible or noticeable.
stuttering out your name, you shook your hand free and effectively ran away with a flimsy excuse that ego had some work for you to finish. were all the new gens this intimidatingly weird?!
vivian hugo didn't expect to fall in love in japan, let alone in the blue lock facility.
he had seen some clips of the neo egoist league, mostly the pxg matches, but he swears you were never in them. because if you were, he would've gone to japan much, much earlier. hell, he might've even asked to transfer to pxg temporarily just to see you!
but destiny has a funny way of working, so hugo supposes there's no point lamenting something out of his control. it's more important that he gets to meet you now, isn't it?
everything about you has enraptured him at just the first glance. the way you smiled, the glimmer in your eyes, the tone of your voice… hugo knew in an instant that you were his other half, just as he is yours.
while you entertained charles in the front, hugo walked behind you next to loki. his eyes couldn't leave your figure even if he wanted to, not that he ever would. loki, seemingly noticing this laser focus, leaned over to him.
"what's with you?" loki asks him, low enough that charles's yapping could cover it perfectly.
"she's my soulmate." hugo replies with complete seriousness, that even loki stares at him with disbelief.
"sometimes i worry about you, hugo…"
when you later tried to run away like a skittish kitten, hugo couldn't let you go without at least knowing your name. he could ask loki or charles, but if he wanted to properly court you, he needs to hear it from you! besides, it's more attractive if a man is assertive, if his sister's favourite romance novels are anything to go by.
that's why hugo took your arm and cornered just like he's seen in all those popular movies, because this is the move that girls usually swoon over, right?
seeing you look up at him, wide-eyed and stuttering out your name, hugo felt like he could already hear the chiming of bells and a scenic place — maybe somewhere in france or japan, wherever you liked — decorated in white. his own heart stuttered, warmth blooming in his chest as he watched you run away. damn, he already hates to see you go, but he might just be in love with watching you leave.
"hugo, what was that?!" charles gawks, eyes as wide as saucers and jaw hanging open. said man was still staring at where you were just a minute ago, soaking in the feeling of being in such close proximity to you, before blinking and snapping himself out of the trance you had him in.
charles's question goes unanswered as hugo sets his bag down and slips off his jacket, preparing his warm-ups, now with a new dream in his mind.
by the end of the world cup, you will be his. it's your shared destiny, after all.
syn: as the intern assistant manager in blue lock, your responsibilities are endless and your salary is low. as if that wasn't already bad enough, you wind up drawing the distaste of new gen 11 player vivien hugo, and you don't even know what you did!
or in which, hugo falls in love with you at first sight, but you think he absolutely hates you.
wc: 814
notes: fem pronouns / fluff / no y/n used / miscommunication-ish / they're both stupid your honor / reader is an intern assistant manager (is that a role probably not but who cares) / don't think too hard about how you got to bllk,,, just know that you are there
a/n: this is that idea i posted a little while ago, unfortunately i can't promise this is any good but if people like it enough i might do a little series with them since i do think it's the kind of idea that is better presented over multiple writings (i also realised that hugo's part sounds slightly... ominous/overtly serious (?) but at the same time it is hugo so.) enjoy!
it was supposed to be routine, just another part of your duties as an intern assistant manager to blue lock. helping the foreign teams accommodate, guiding them to training areas and other similar facilities, but how did it end up with france's vivien hugo basically breathing down your neck?!
to put the timeline into place, it started with ego ordering you to help some france players around the blue lock facility. you did ask why loki and charles couldn't just help themselves since, you know, they were here just awhile ago, but he ignored you. such is the life of an intern, you suppose…
anyhow, you greeted loki, charles, and the new member hugo when they arrived. you flowed into an easy conversation with charles, who was as excitable as always, but you couldn't shake the feeling of hugo's eyes piercing into your back, and for some reason it put your body into some form of fight-or-flight. maybe his tall and intimidating stature and blank face had something to do with it…
you could only smile with a slightly strained look as you showed them to one of the training grounds, already set with water bottles and towels for their use. you were more than eager to run away as soon as you could, lest you melt into a puddle of nerves thanks to hugo.
but before you could leave, a hand grabbed your wrist, cornering you, and you knew for a fact that neither loki nor charles was to blame. so, with a bated breath and a short prayer, you turned around to meet hugo's face, that was scarily close to yours.
"you didn't give me your name." his eyes, the pair of black holes that they are, threatened to swallow you whole. you can only hope that your gulp wasn't audible or noticeable.
stuttering out your name, you shook your hand free and effectively ran away with a flimsy excuse that ego had some work for you to finish. were all the new gens this intimidatingly weird?!
vivian hugo didn't expect to fall in love in japan, let alone in the blue lock facility.
he had seen some clips of the neo egoist league, mostly the pxg matches, but he swears you were never in them. because if you were, he would've gone to japan much, much earlier. hell, he might've even asked to transfer to pxg temporarily just to see you!
but destiny has a funny way of working, so hugo supposes there's no point lamenting something out of his control. it's more important that he gets to meet you now, isn't it?
everything about you has enraptured him at just the first glance. the way you smiled, the glimmer in your eyes, the tone of your voice… hugo knew in an instant that you were his other half, just as he is yours.
while you entertained charles in the front, hugo walked behind you next to loki. his eyes couldn't leave your figure even if he wanted to, not that he ever would. loki, seemingly noticing this laser focus, leaned over to him.
"what's with you?" loki asks him, low enough that charles's yapping could cover it perfectly.
"she's my soulmate." hugo replies with complete seriousness, that even loki stares at him with disbelief.
"sometimes i worry about you, hugo…"
when you later tried to run away like a skittish kitten, hugo couldn't let you go without at least knowing your name. he could ask loki or charles, but if he wanted to properly court you, he needs to hear it from you! besides, it's more attractive if a man is assertive, if his sister's favourite romance novels are anything to go by.
that's why hugo took your arm and cornered just like he's seen in all those popular movies, because this is the move that girls usually swoon over, right?
seeing you look up at him, wide-eyed and stuttering out your name, hugo felt like he could already hear the chiming of bells and a scenic place — maybe somewhere in france or japan, wherever you liked — decorated in white. his own heart stuttered, warmth blooming in his chest as he watched you run away. damn, he already hates to see you go, but he might just be in love with watching you leave.
"hugo, what was that?!" charles gawks, eyes as wide as saucers and jaw hanging open. said man was still staring at where you were just a minute ago, soaking in the feeling of being in such close proximity to you, before blinking and snapping himself out of the trance you had him in.
charles's question goes unanswered as hugo sets his bag down and slips off his jacket, preparing his warm-ups, now with a new dream in his mind.
by the end of the world cup, you will be his. it's your shared destiny, after all.
Summary: Jerry wants to teach darling a lesson about the world and how it isn't good, and it proves her right.
Warnings: murder, guns, kicking, bones cracking(?), "the world isn't safe for you"-talk, jerry mocking darling
Word count: 2k
You should have succeeded if it weren’t for the fact that she had forgotten her gun. Otherwise she wouldn't have returned to the apartment to find you in the doorway, catching you red handed.
“Oh?” she says, shocked but quickly regaining her composure. “Where do you think you're going?”
You gulp and back away from the door, heart pounding in your ears.
“Who said you could leave?” Jerry asks, closing the door behind her back. She fetches her gun on the drawer beside her.
“Jerry, I—I”
“I'm going to ask you questions and you answer yes or no. If you lie I'm tying you to the fridge. Did you try to escape?”
You gulp and nod.
“Did you think you were going to succeed?”
You don't answer.
“Hey”, Jerry warns.
“Yes, I thought I'd get away with it. Happy?”
“I said no lying.”
“Geez, you're so full of yourself.”
“Yes, because I am right.”
You remain quiet, biting back whatever you’ll regret if you let it out.
“Okay”, she says, final and decisive. “How about we do something? Let's see if you like the outside as much as you think you do.”
It's dark outside the car window. You’ve watched streetlights flash by with no knowledge of where you’re going. Jerry parks her car by a bushy parking lot, right next to the forest.
“Jump out, princess, let's go”, she says.
You bite back your insult and follow her. A cold wind hits your face, causing a shiver to run right through you. The forest around you is pitch black and you hope, for the love of everything, that you're not going into it.
Jerry's smiling. A bad sign.
“What are you waiting for?” she asks. “Move those little legs. We have a long night in front of us.”
“What are we doing?” you ask.
“Going for a night's stroll.”
A small, nervous laugh leaves your lips, but Jerry doesn't join you.
“No, Y/N, I'm serious”, she says, nodding at the black forest. “We're actually going on a walk.”
“In there?”
“Yes, in there.”
Jerry has shown you enough videos “top 10 scariest things found in forests” to scare you enough to never want to enter a forest again—day or night.
“Are you just going to stand there all night?” Jerry mutters.
“Preferably”, you bite back.
Jerry rolls her eyes and grabs your arm, dragging you with her.
“I'm armed”, she tells you. “I can defend us.”
The forest is darker than you thought, but your eyes adjust to the lack of light, enough to outline dark shapes against even darker backgrounds. Every little sound makes you jump, skittish and terrified.
“Imagine if there was someone waiting for us”, Jerry whispers, smirk tugging at her lips. “With a knife, ready to slaughter us.”
“Stop.”
“We wouldn't know where to run. It's so dark. We wouldn't be able to run away.”
“Jerry. Stop. Please.”
She chuckles. A loud, blood curling scream in the distance makes you jump out of your skin. You grab Jerry’s hand before you can stop yourself.
“What was that?” you gasp.
“Probably some poor soul getting the taste of death”, Jerry replies casually. “There are a lot of things in these kinds of woods. You know the videos I showed you?”
“Yes? They were fake, though … right?”
“Not all of them.”
You swallow. She continues to walk, letting you squeeze her hand. Every sound makes your heart beat quicker.
“Jerry, please”, you plead. “Can't we just leave? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it—”
“You ‘didn't mean to do it’?” she echoes. “Then why did you reply that you thought you'd get away with it when I asked you? Sounds to me that you meant it a lot. Do you mean that you regret what you did?”
“Yes, yes, I do. I regret it. Terribly. Please, can we go back—?”
“No. You are going to learn. You think the outside is so safe. You are dumb. The outside isn't safe. You are going to see what I see, and learn that your view on the world is way too trusting. When you understand how dangerous it is, you'll never want to leave my apartment ever again.” She takes a harder grip on your hand. “Come now.”
She pulls you deeper into the forest. In the distance, you see the light of a flashlight searching through the trees.
“Do you want to know what'll happen if that light sees us?” Jerry asks and you shake your head, but she answers anyway. “He'll probably chase us down. He's probably armed.”
“So are you", you remind her, gulping.
“Yes. If you walked into the forest, naively, I would be one of the things you'd have to fear. I'm not nice.” She leans closer to whisper in your ear. “You should consider yourself lucky you're my boyfriend/girlfriend, because otherwise you'd be dead right now.”
You gulp. You often take Jerry’s — rather violent — care for granted. Like a dog you forget scare people off. Only remembering when you're without it.
“Come on”, Jerry says and tugs your hand. “Hold my hand.”
Normally you'd have ignored her, but now you're more than happy to oblige. You glance at her as you continue to walk. She doesn't seem to be the slightest scared—opposite, actually. She seems to enjoy this.
You're well aware of her urban exploring hobby, but surely there has to be some kind of limit?
A sound reaches your ears again. Closer, duller. You glance around in the darkness. Something a few feet from you moves on the ground. You flinch and stumble into Jerry.
“Scaredy cat”, she scoffs.
Your eyes have adjusted well enough to the darkness to tell apart the outline of a human in the grass.
“Help … me …”, he moans painfully. Voice too quiet to be fully alive.
“Jerry”, you breathe, turning to her to let her know, but she's already looking.
“If you're dumb enough to go into a forest at night by yourself, this is what happens”, she says, as if it's clear as day—which, you figure, it should be, but humans morbid curiosity will always exist. “What do you think, Y/N? Should we put him out of his misery? He won't survive long enough to get help. You'd just delay the inevitable.”
“Don't give me that decision!”
“Why not? You're empathic. Empathic enough to think the world is better than this.”
“Jerry, it's not funny.”
“Eeny-meeny-miny-moe?”
“Stop, Jerry!”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Boring.”
You swallow. She pulls out her gun and shoots. You scream and hide in Jerry’s shoulder.
“Now, those with the flashlight will know we're here”, Jerry says and you hear her reload the gun. “Your scream might have tricked them that you were the one getting shot but they know the one with the gun is here.”
You gulp. “So what do we do?”
She holds up the gun. “We talk.”
The flashlights beam turn towards the two of you.
“Behind me”, Jerry says quietly. “Don't move until I say so.”
You, once again, are happy to oblige.
“Who are you?” a deep voice asks, clearly drunk.
“Taking a romantic walk, what else?” Jerry scoffs, turning the gun slightly to get a better grip. “Got anything against young love?”
“Put down the gun.”
“No.”
“What? You're scared that I'll beat up a small girl like yourself?”
“No, I can fight, I'm making sure your buddy won't try to hurt my partner while you try—and fail, if I might add—to beat me up.”
“You have a lot of attitude, don't you?”
Jerry smirks and shrugs. The man with the flashlight takes a step forward. You don't see what's happening because of the pitch black darkness, but you hear how the bullet leaves Jerry’s gun. You're not sure where it hits, but you can tell that his voice falls forward. His groan is choked. The other man gasps and stumbles backwards.
“Run now and I might not see you well enough to hit you”, she tells the other man.
The other man drops his flashlight and runs. Jerry calmly walks over to the shot one. Now you can see that he's still alive, lying on all fours trying to breathe.
“I suppose the one near death here somewhere was your doing?” she asks. “Let me give you a tip, when you start something, finish it.”
With that said, she kicks him. Hard. The sound of boots against skeleton cracks the eerie night air.
“Jerry!” you gasp. “What did you do? Where the fuck did you kick him?”
“Do you really want to know?” she pants. “Come now, let's go back to the car. I'm just pissed now.”
She grabs your hand and drags you, muttering about ‘hating people like him’.
“Well, I hope you learned something”, she sighs as you get into the car. “Fun fact, I had not planned that. Honestly. I was just thinking that I'd show you the darkness of the forest and let you listen to sounds and make yourself paranoid. Don't know if this was worse or better.”
“Well, I'm terrified …”, you mumble into your lap.
“Yeah? Good. Now imagine if I hadn't been there. Not so fun, huh? There are psychos everywhere, but no I'm keeping you in my apartment because ‘it's fun’—and yeah, sure I do like having you there, but come on. If I could decide, I'd have you glued to me. We'd share one of those hideous big shirts meant for two … but it's not safe. I can't always keep an eye on you while doing my job. Hell, I can barely keep track of myself.” Her voice deepens to a shameful mutter. “But knowing you're home safe and sound gives me a reason to make sure I don't die.”
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing. Put on your seatbelt, I'm hungry, let's go home.”
You do as she says, again. If only you could be this obedient normally, Jerry thinks and shakes her head, no, that'd be too boring. She likes that you push back, that you try to fight. She loves herself a little game of cat and mouse.
“Jerry, can I ask you something?” you ask as she drives down the road in silence.
“What?”
“Why is the world so dark? That is a dumb question, I know, I just … why do people seem to have such an easy way to resort to violence?”
The question is stupid, but Jerry’s heart softens a bit at it. Poor you, wanting the world to be better than what it is. She sighs heavily, resting one arm on the car’s window.
“Becuase the world isn’t a good place”, she says slowly, “and people aren’t good. There are a few angels but unfortunately it’s better to not expect everyone to be happy rays of sunshine. I keep you in my apartment because I’m so fucking scared you’ll be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or that my enemies will get to you because I—” SHe cuts herself off, jaw tightening. “I can’t do that again, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You can whine and cry and scream and wah-wah-wah, I don’t care. I am not losing you to idiots that can’t keep their emotion in check. You are my responsibility because I fucking love you. Got that? ”
You nod.
“Now stop asking questions, my head is hurting”, Jerry sighs. “I need a hamburger and a shower and then a nap. Maybe a beer if I’m lucky.”
As you get back to the apartment, you feel yourself breathe a sigh of relief of being back. Maybe someday you’ll try again, when you want to give the world a second chance, but for now you’ve had enough of it.
may I request some leon comfort please? sometimes I just want him to drag me out of social situations where I start to feel really exhausted.
CONTENT: Mentions of skin picking, a nod to Leon's struggle with alcohol
You're doing it again.
Leon frowns.
He's sitting on the cozy, dark leather couch that's situated within the living room of the Redfield home. The material gives under his weight in that way where it doesn't feel like he's sinking into it but rather, he's cushioned to the perfect degree.
Nursing a bottle of non-alcoholic beer (he's been good about his restraint in that regard, and you've been pretty happy about it), he only pretends to listen to what Sherry has been telling him about for the past few minutes. Something about her trip to Egypt with Jake and the market… And then, Leon had noticed the way you kept scratching at the skin around your nails, and his attention has been on you ever since.
“And that's when I fell from that place,” Sherry tells him, and Leon just nods, clearly looking past her, just barely attempting to act like he's looking at her.
“We also crashed into this really important guy’s car. I think he was some foreign politician,” she lies.
“Uh huh…”
“We've caused about five million dollars in damages. I told them to charge your account.”
“Is that so?”
Sherry sighs softly, turning her head to see what he's looking at, and, as she expected, he's looking at you. “Did you guys fight?” she asks. “Seemed fine just earlier.”
“We didn't fight,” Leon tells her, his voice soft. Now that it's about you, he's listening. Typical. He's been selective about his hearing in recent years. There is no defensiveness to his statement. Rather, Sherry thinks she can hear worry lacing his tone.
However, before she can ask any further questions, the older D.S.O. agent is already up on his feet, his bottle clanking down onto the wooden living room table. Then, he makes his way over.
Chris approaches him on his way, but Leon gently pushes the other man's shoulder, shaking his head as if to say “Not now”.
Once he's by your side, his hand finds your upper arm, and he tugs you against him. “We're leaving for tonight. It's quite late,” he tells Jill and Claire, not unkind in the slightest but with almost a silent plea in his gaze.
Jill looks at you, then at Leon, and gives him a knowing look, bringing her glass up to her lips. Claire gives him an understanding smile, despite her words: “Rude. Oh well, I'll text you, and we'll just meet up again soon. Maybe next weekend for some shopping?”
The hug she gives you is warm and a little firmer than usual, and even Jill holds on a little longer than you're used to. Once you've all exchanged goodbyes, Leon escorts you to the car, opening the door for you and going out of his way to fasten your seatbelt before he slides into the driver's seat.
The ride home is quiet. Pleasantly so.
Once Leon pulls into the familiar driveway and kills the engine, you stew in this comfortable silence for a few minutes. You sit together, the only sound reaching your ears being those weird ticking noises the engine makes before it starts to cool off. Usually, you’d comment on Leon’s inability to let go of this old car – a cheeky comment mixed with some affection that you hold for his decision to hold onto what’s still working and “good”. Today, speaking is a little difficult for you, but you don’t feel pressured to fall into that old routine.
You know he knows.
It’s why he pulled you out of that little gathering and ushered you home. It’s almost as if it’s some sort of additional sense he possesses. His awareness regarding his surroundings is top-notch; years of training do pay off, but it’s different when it comes to you. Sharper, more subtle.
Almost as if he’s fine-tuned to your emotional state, he knows you’re feeling bad the moment you notice it yourself. It used to scare you. Now, it’s a great comfort.
The feeling of his hand on yours rips you out of your thoughts, and you look at him. Your lips stick together, dry and uncomfortable. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. Leon’s eyes meet yours, and he assesses you carefully. As if he’s trying to make sure to show that he’s simply doing this out of love for you. His brows are furrowed, and you yearn to reach out to smooth your finger over the skin right between them, but your arms feel like they’re made out of lead.
“You wanna head inside?” Leon asks, his voice firm but not unkind. You manage to shake your head “No”.
Leon waits a second, then another, before he leans back into his seat. The hand on top of yours gives a gentle squeeze. When you turn your palm to face up, he slides his fingers between yours and holds onto you, just tight enough to ground you.
“Alright,” he whispers, and his words are nearly drowned out by the rain that starts pouring down onto the windshield. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”
may I request some leon comfort please? sometimes I just want him to drag me out of social situations where I start to feel really exhausted.
CONTENT: Mentions of skin picking, a nod to Leon's struggle with alcohol
You're doing it again.
Leon frowns.
He's sitting on the cozy, dark leather couch that's situated within the living room of the Redfield home. The material gives under his weight in that way where it doesn't feel like he's sinking into it but rather, he's cushioned to the perfect degree.
Nursing a bottle of non-alcoholic beer (he's been good about his restraint in that regard, and you've been pretty happy about it), he only pretends to listen to what Sherry has been telling him about for the past few minutes. Something about her trip to Egypt with Jake and the market… And then, Leon had noticed the way you kept scratching at the skin around your nails, and his attention has been on you ever since.
“And that's when I fell from that place,” Sherry tells him, and Leon just nods, clearly looking past her, just barely attempting to act like he's looking at her.
“We also crashed into this really important guy’s car. I think he was some foreign politician,” she lies.
“Uh huh…”
“We've caused about five million dollars in damages. I told them to charge your account.”
“Is that so?”
Sherry sighs softly, turning her head to see what he's looking at, and, as she expected, he's looking at you. “Did you guys fight?” she asks. “Seemed fine just earlier.”
“We didn't fight,” Leon tells her, his voice soft. Now that it's about you, he's listening. Typical. He's been selective about his hearing in recent years. There is no defensiveness to his statement. Rather, Sherry thinks she can hear worry lacing his tone.
However, before she can ask any further questions, the older D.S.O. agent is already up on his feet, his bottle clanking down onto the wooden living room table. Then, he makes his way over.
Chris approaches him on his way, but Leon gently pushes the other man's shoulder, shaking his head as if to say “Not now”.
Once he's by your side, his hand finds your upper arm, and he tugs you against him. “We're leaving for tonight. It's quite late,” he tells Jill and Claire, not unkind in the slightest but with almost a silent plea in his gaze.
Jill looks at you, then at Leon, and gives him a knowing look, bringing her glass up to her lips. Claire gives him an understanding smile, despite her words: “Rude. Oh well, I'll text you, and we'll just meet up again soon. Maybe next weekend for some shopping?”
The hug she gives you is warm and a little firmer than usual, and even Jill holds on a little longer than you're used to. Once you've all exchanged goodbyes, Leon escorts you to the car, opening the door for you and going out of his way to fasten your seatbelt before he slides into the driver's seat.
The ride home is quiet. Pleasantly so.
Once Leon pulls into the familiar driveway and kills the engine, you stew in this comfortable silence for a few minutes. You sit together, the only sound reaching your ears being those weird ticking noises the engine makes before it starts to cool off. Usually, you’d comment on Leon’s inability to let go of this old car – a cheeky comment mixed with some affection that you hold for his decision to hold onto what’s still working and “good”. Today, speaking is a little difficult for you, but you don’t feel pressured to fall into that old routine.
You know he knows.
It’s why he pulled you out of that little gathering and ushered you home. It’s almost as if it’s some sort of additional sense he possesses. His awareness regarding his surroundings is top-notch; years of training do pay off, but it’s different when it comes to you. Sharper, more subtle.
Almost as if he’s fine-tuned to your emotional state, he knows you’re feeling bad the moment you notice it yourself. It used to scare you. Now, it’s a great comfort.
The feeling of his hand on yours rips you out of your thoughts, and you look at him. Your lips stick together, dry and uncomfortable. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. Leon’s eyes meet yours, and he assesses you carefully. As if he’s trying to make sure to show that he’s simply doing this out of love for you. His brows are furrowed, and you yearn to reach out to smooth your finger over the skin right between them, but your arms feel like they’re made out of lead.
“You wanna head inside?” Leon asks, his voice firm but not unkind. You manage to shake your head “No”.
Leon waits a second, then another, before he leans back into his seat. The hand on top of yours gives a gentle squeeze. When you turn your palm to face up, he slides his fingers between yours and holds onto you, just tight enough to ground you.
“Alright,” he whispers, and his words are nearly drowned out by the rain that starts pouring down onto the windshield. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”
ok hold ive been watching An Observation Log of My Fiancée Who Calls Herself a Villainess and lohen kinda matches prince cecil's darkness. what about a transmigrated reader who tries to match them up with the og heroine only for yan! lohen to stop putting up with their antics as soon as they go a step too far and showing them exactly how obsessed he is with them
♯┆ seeing Follo naked for the first time and your first instinct is to call him pretty. unsure if pretty is even befitting for someone that looks like he was crafted by the gods themselves.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ cw: mdni! fem!reader, taking Follo's virginity, dry humping, handjobs, blowjob, cum eating, mentions of pussy eating, fingering, consent checks, missionary, creampie, implied aftercare | 2.9k words
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ i'm still so very in love with Follo so you better love him too and treat him gently 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 requests are open!!
comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡
"Are you sure?" Follo's voice cracked slightly mid sentence as he looked up at you with those big, honey colored eyes and his kiss swollen lips. Your hands stilled immediately, fingers still holding the fly of his zipper as you looked back at him, mirroring his uncertainty now. Of course you were sure - you had wanted nothing more than to give yourself to the man beneath you for a long time already - but you waited for him to be ready.
"I don't think I've ever been more sure of anything before," you said with a breathless chuckle, scrunching up your nose when you realized just how needy you sounded in that moment.
Follo’s cheeks flushed red once your words registered. Was now a good time to come clean about his lack of experience? His mind was racing too fast, and his mouth moved without registering his own words.
"I don't- I haven't... not properly," he admitted, not even sure what he wanted to explain. He hadn't been with a woman before - Sure, there had been one singular handjob once, but he hadn’t enjoyed it much and had decided to wait for someone it would feel right with. You.
You chuckled when his face flushed red and the panic in his copper eyes spread faster than a wildfire in the summer heat.
"It's okay for me if it's okay for you," you mused, not meaning to make it sound as teasing as it did. It truly didn’t matter to you whether he had little or no experience at all - if anything, it felt like an honor to be the first to unravel him, to show him just how good someone could feel when loved the right way.
He nodded softly and the panic in his eyes slowly ebbed into something much softer in the gentle glow of the dimmed light. It made you smile lovingly at him, your heart beating faster as your fingers returned to their task, carefully opening the zipper of his pants.
His cock was already painfully hard from the way you dragged your hips against his earlier when the kiss escalated, and his hands did nothing but encourage your bold movements.
As you popped open the button of his pants, you looked up at him through your lashes, a small grin slowly creeping onto your lips, unsure which of you was more nervous. The thought barely had time to settle before he took matters into his own hands, carefully lifting his hips and pushing at both his pants and his underwear to get rid of them in one fluid motion the moment you lifted yourself from his lap, only to straddle his bare thighs once more.
"You're pretty," the compliment slipped from your mouth without much hesitation, unsure if pretty was the right word to use for a man who looked as though he had been crafted by the gods themselves.
The pink hue on his cheeks spread further and slowly turned into a deep shade of crimson the more your eyes feasted on his body. He felt utterly vulnerable like this, every thought scattering the moment your nails raked lightly over his abs, slipping through his fingers like fine sand. Only when your thumb brushed gently over his left hip bone did he return back to the moment, the dim light behind you illuminated you ethereally, and Follo could have sworn that you were an angel in that moment. His swallow was audible when your fingers slowly grazed over his abs and towards his pelvis, a sickeningly sweet smile on your lips when you saw his cock twitch with excitement, a few drops of precum dribbling onto his stomach.
"May I?" you asked again, wanting to make sure that this was what he wanted - that you were what he wanted. Your fingers could barely wait to wrap themselves around his cock, your pointer finger running along the thick vein on the underside of it.
"Please," he breathed, his voice pitched high with desperation, his cock jumping again when your finger dragged over his frenulum.
He didn't need to tell you twice, eager fingers gently wrapping around his hard length as if to test the weight of it on your hand before your thumb swiped over the tip to smear the near translucent liquid over the pretty pink head of his dick.
Follo's eyes fluttered shut the moment your hand wrapped around him, the feeling already overwhelming, and his brows scrunched up in pure bliss as a breathy moan left his lips. He was nodding, unsure why or what he was agreeing to, but his ears were ringing in ways that sounded like a heavenly choir, ready to welcome him at the pearly gate - making him understand why orgasms are also called "la petite mort," a small death.
Seeing the way he reacted to your hand gave you the courage you needed to finally lean down to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. Your own eyes fell shut as well when the bittersweet taste of his precum melted against your tongue.
"Ah- a fuck," Follo cursed out at the feeling of your tongue massaging the underside of his dick, your head bobbing slowly, gently, as if afraid to overwhelm him. He didn’t want to be an asshole and come without warning, but his voice failed him completely.
"I-" was all that left his lips before a high pitched moan bubbled up, and if he wouldn't have been worried about the fact that he came into your mouth without permission, he'd be terribly embarrassed for that sound that sounded more like a whine than anything else.
You were surprised by how quickly he came - barely a minute after your hand wrapped around him for the first time, but you also hadn't expected him to last long either since you didn't take it easy on him with the way you were grinding against him previously. You looked up at Follo the moment his cock twitched against your tongue and saw the utter shock on his face, knowing that you needed to ease his mind - having him release on your tongue was what you wanted after all.
You slowed down the movement of your head and focused on suckling on his cock instead, moaning in bliss at the taste and warmth of his cum as it coated your tongue. Only when he started growing soft again, you pulled back and released the tip with a lewd pop before a grin formed on your lips, while Follo didn't even know where to look or what to say.
"That was... wow... I mean tha-" Follo started to ramble after the few seconds of silence felt too long, but you cut him off immediately.
"Don't you dare thank me, Tunito," you scolded him with a soft laugh and pawed at his chest as you laid down next to him to kiss along his collarbone and the crook of his neck. You wondered briefly if he would mind kissing you now, the taste of his release still lingered on your tongue, but Follo answered your unasked question soon enough. Gently, he tilted your head up to kiss you deeply, and his tongue lapped at your lip to ask for entrance. He was far from done, feeling like a wolf that tasted blood for the first time - Needing more now.
Without hesitation, you kissed him back while his hands grew bolder now, wandering over your body without ever getting disrespectful, which made you laugh softly into the kiss. Carefully, you pulled back from the kiss for a split second to pull your shirt off, letting your bra follow.
Despite his best efforts, his eyes drifted down to your chest to get a good view of your boobs, and before he could even muster up the nerve to ask, you guided his hands there before kissing him again. The silent consent encouraged Follo to explore your body further, gently kneading the soft mounds and letting his thumbs glide over your hardened nipples until you were squirming against him.
Watching the way his inexperienced touch had you squirming against him allowed his confidence to grow to the point where he took charge to let one of his hands travel down the side of your body, where he stopped right at the waistband of your panties. That's when he pulled back and looked at you with the uncertainty of a beaten dog.
"Can I... take them off?" He eventually asked, his voice more steady than you've heard it all night. With a small chuckle you nodded but reached down to take them off yourself, giving him a small show with how slowly you peeled your panties off and down your legs.
He tried his best not to stare, he really did, but his eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the sight of your glistening folds. Follo took a sharp inhale before trying to gain his composure once again, hoping that it would help him regain control if he kissed you again - like that you couldn't watch him getting shy or how painfully hard he got just seeing your pretty pussy. When he leaned in, you kissed him back immediately, letting your tongue caress his own while his hands busied themselves with your boobs once again.
"Follo, please," you eventually breathe out into the kiss, growing needy from how he caressed your chest.
Hearing you beg for his touch was almost too much, but he didn't want to make you wait, so one of his hands traveled downwards and over your stomach until it rested on your mound, not quite touching you yet. In that moment he wished that he could take a peek and see what he was doing so he could actually make you feel good, and before he could break the kiss, you guided his hand further down, allowing him to please you.
His fingers moved clumsily through your folds, not quite prodding, but it didn't feel heavenly either, so you guided his hand gently. It didn't feel insulting to Follo, if anything, he was more than grateful for the help, and when you moved his hand to caress your clit with circular motions, both of you gasped into the kiss - your pleasure mirrored by his awe at providing it. With each flick of his fingers, Follo grew more confident, and soon his fingers found their way to your entrance, pausing there for just a moment in case you wanted to pull away, but when you didn't, he carefully pushed a singular finger into your cunt.
Your body stumbled into his chest the moment his slender finger pumped into you with ease until he added a second one and moved them in scissoring motions to try and open you up a little, figuring that this is how it's done. You didn't give him much time to please you, let alone to let him get used to the feeling of your tight walls around him, growing hungry for his cock.
Hesitantly you pulled away from his lips and left open mouthed kisses on his jaw, trailing down his neck until you managed to part from him entirely. The lack of your skin against his own let the movement of his fingers slow down as he searched your eyes in an effort to figure out if you wanted him to stop or if he still had the green light.
"Can we- do you still want to...?" You managed to ask through the pleasure he provided with his slow movements, the palm of his hand now dragging over your clit ever so gently.
Follo felt bad for how fast he nodded, dying to bury his aching cock in your heat. You already felt so insanely good wrapped around the fingers, and the image of what you'd feel like around his dick made it jump with excitement and anticipation. "Yes... unless you don't want to anymore?" He sounded insecure despite his growing need for you. It might be his first time, but if he'd learned one thing, it's that the woman calls the shots in the bedroom.
When his fingers pulled away from your core, it made you whimper from the loss, but seeing Follo's eyes roll back as he carefully licked your essence off his own fingers made you forget about the ache between your thighs immediately. "Next time, you can eat me out, if you want," you promised amused.
Follo blinked at you for a moment before his eyes focused back into reality. "N-next time?" He asked overly excited and nodded in a way that sent his dark hair flying. "I would love to... even now, or later," he admitted sheepishly, overly eager to please you the way you pleased him as well.
Hearing how eager he was made you giggle softly and you reached out to cup his cheek gently. "We'll see about that... for now I think we have different things planned," you mused and wrapped your hand around his shaft once again, gently pumping it.
"Can I be on top?" Follo's voice came out strangled from the pleasure your hand provided, but you saw no reason to deny him that one wish.
The hand that cupped his cheek moved to the back of his neck as you leaned in to kiss him while you pulled him down so he was now holding himself up above you. Hesitantly, Follo pulled back to look at you and how your legs parted around his narrow waist, and he was most certain that he had never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in all his lifetime.
"You're beautiful," he mumbled slightly nervous while his hands traveled over your curves in appreciation before letting his fingers trail over your inner thighs, all the way to your glistening folds, where he let his thumb glide over your clit a few times.
Once he was done appreciating the view, he leaned over you again to line himself up with your pussy. Amber eyes looked at yours with his eyebrows knit together, searching for any sign that you wanted to back out of the situation - but the way your ankles locked behind his waist told him everything he needed to know. With a gentle thrust, he pushed the tip of his cock into your inviting heat.
"Oh shit-" the little swear fell from his lips before he could stop it. But your walls felt so good around his cock, and the more he pushed in, the harder it got for him to breathe. Your cunt felt hot and inviting in the way it squeezed around him, trying to pull him even deeper. It took everything from you to not roll your hips against his when he finally bottomed out, but you wanted to give him time to adjust.
Follo held himself up with his elbows, but you felt how his entire body shivered as his balls rested against the globes of your ass, his eyes shut tightly as the warm light illuminated him above you. Carefully, you let your hand travel over his back and his side before raking your fingers over his defined abs.
"Take your time," you whispered sweetly before your hand traveled between your bodies to play with your clit.
"F-fuck," Follo moaned when you clenched around his cock, driving him near insanity. "Can I move?" His voice sounded strained when he spoke through gritted teeth, but that was exactly what you wanted.
You nodded with a small mewl, eager to feel him move inside you. The man hissed when he dragged his dick out of your velvet walls until only his tip remained inside before pushing back inside. One of his arms failed to support his weight, and his face dropped into your neck with a shuddered moan as his hips rolled into you in a sloppy rhythm, and before you knew it, they slowed down again. A little whimper was all you needed to know that he was close after just a few thrusts, which you already expected.
"Wait just a bit, yeah? Try to hold back, pretty boy," you mused and increased the pressure of your fingers skimming over your bundle of nerves until you too were teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer as you kissed him. "Now move," you instructed between sloppy kisses, and when he started fucking into you once again, it only took a few thrusts until he released. Follo moaned softly against your neck as he came, humping you desperately as he tried to get even deeper. The feeling of his cum painting your walls pushed you over the edge as well, moaning his name like a sinful prayer as your hips rolled against his as well, riding out your high.
The room was silent for a while, filled with nothing but panting breaths from the both of you while you gently played with Follo's hair, feeling how he trembled ever so softly in your arms as his cock slowly grew limp inside of you. You wanted to cuddle with him, maybe take a shower together, and then grab a few snacks, but before you could even open your mouth to initiate aftercare, he kissed your neck once again.
"So... about pleasing you," he chuckled sheepishly, the thought of eating you out engraved into his brain - and now that he had a taste of pleasure, he never wanted it to end. Aftercare and cuddles had to wait, it seems...
SYNOPSIS: Your arranged marriage is something you are unable to fight. Accepting your fate, you are surprised when your new husband just wants to treat you kindly.
A collection of moments following your marriage with Yamada Asaemon Shion.
CONTENT: Minors DO NOT interact! Female reader, arranged/forced marriage, physical and emotional abuse are mentioned/hinted at within reader's family, falling in love, two idiots in love, pining, food, alcohol (reader gets tipsy), poetry, blood, canon-typical violence, some angst, miscommunications, masturbation (male), kissing, smut, hand job, fingering, penetration, first time together, domesticity, humor, some banter, there are some notes at the end of this regarding the poems/stories used, as well as some translations!
WORD COUNT: ~ 16.8 k
NOTES: This works as a prequel for the couple from this fanfic! This is a repost from my old account. Seeing as how this fic is three years old, I feel a little embarrassed about the quality of the writing. Thank you for loving it enough to ask for me to repost it, despite that!
Your name is something you should not give to a stranger. There is a distance to be kept when it comes to men. Suspicious people should be avoided at all costs.
As much as the boy in front of you fits the description of someone you should not interact with, you don’t turn away. His clothes are dirty and worn, he looks a little sickly and the scars that marr his face are prominent. He’s probably around your age, maybe a little older. You’ve just turned seven a few weeks ago.
“Do they hurt?”
He turns his head towards you, wary now. You wonder how he turned so accurately, facing you despite his eyes being closed. His hearing must be very good.
It’s dark outside already and you really should not be out here, sitting in front of the door like this but you felt caged in. You needed some fresh air and some sort of distraction. The gods seem to be kind to you tonight.
“Your scars, I mean,” trying again, you don’t feel upset over his obvious lack of desire to talk to you. No one really talks to the daimyō’s daughter, unless they mean trouble.
“No,” he murmurs, as he turns his head towards the trash you found him digging through just now when you decided to sit down in front of the house. Tentatively he turns his attention back to you. Is he embarrassed? Or perhaps is he asking for permission?
“Here,” you offer, stretching out a hand. The boy tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. His cheeks are a little sunken in and he looks exhausted but there is some sort of pull you feel towards him. A sort of quiet resilience that has found its home in the downturn of his pouty lips and carved its existence into the lines of his face.
A sigh of frustration leaves you and you tell him to come closer. When he obliges, you pull on his arm. He flinches and instinctively tries to free himself from your grasp but you’re stubborn as you put the small fruit in his hand.
“Eat some. I brought enough here with me since I had to sneak through the garden. There is nothing in the trash and it’s dirty,” you explain as you pat the space next to you on the little stone wall.
The boy holds the small fruit in his hand as he examines it with his fingers. “What is this?”
“A plum,” you tell him simply. “I pulled the stone out for you. You can just eat it.”
Hesitation cannot win over the feeling of his stomach twisting with hunger and he quickly puts it in his mouth to eat it. He squeezes his eyes shut even more than they’re already closed and there’s a frown on his face now.
“That’s sour!”
For a moment, you’re stunned. With just two words, he suddenly seemed his age and you can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “I like it when they’re still a bit sour. If you come back after some weeks have passed, then they’ll be a lot sweeter,” you explain, plopping half a plum into your mouth.
It’s not often that you get to talk to someone your age and maybe it’s not the most clever thing to invite a beggar back to your home but that doesn’t deter you the slightest bit. “What’s your name?” you ask the boy while you eat another plum, offering your name before waiting for his answer.
He takes a moment to think before he replies, “My name is Shion and you should be more careful out here alone.” There is almost a tinge of worry to his tone and the frown on his face makes you grin. Saying something like that makes him sound like a nagging old man.
With a kind of bitter sarcasm that is utterly unbefitting of someone so young, lacing your voice, you tell him, “It’s probably more dangerous for you, right here in front of my house, you know? You never know when-”
And as if you’d summoned trouble, you hear shuffling inside the house and the voice of your father echoes inside, the door not doing much to hide his anger. Quickly, you hand the small basket filled with plums to the boy and forcibly turn him around.
“You have to go - Hurry! I need to go inside before my father gets even more mad at me. Take these with you, boy! I will see you around!”
With that, you turn around and hurry off to the other side of the house. The boy is left on the street, looking dumbfounded.
There’s a tinge of sweetness within the aftertaste of the plum you had given to him just now.
It is a warm summer day when your father whispers harshly, telling you to keep your back straight. The past few days have passed by like a whirlwind. Talks of marriage have never been unfamiliar business to you - the only daughter of a prestigious daimyō. Your father, a friend of the shogun, as close as friendship within such a hierarchy gets, has always received his favor.
So it was only a matter of time until you’d get wed off to someone the shogun trusts, in hopes of strengthening this friendship.
It’s more of a business relationship, really, but you are not in a position to criticize this bond of theirs.
When the sliding door opens, your forehead is already pressed against the tatami flooring. The servants lead the Yamada Asaemon into the room and your father moves to stand up but the rustling next to you settles as soon as it begins and he bows as he kneels next to you. Not quite as deep as you do and not for as long either.
He is a man after all.
You don’t doubt that even if your father was the poorest farmer in this country, his pride would still stiffen his back so that he could bow no lower than 45°. Respect only goes one to that man, unless the shogun is involved.
The Yamada Asaemon must have signaled for him to stay seated, or else your father would have at least had the courtesy to get up and puff out his chest as he does. The soft thumping on the other side of the table lets you know that he has taken a seat himself.
Raising your head, you make sure to keep your gaze cast to the floor, your vision barely reaching toward the white fabric of his pants. His work attire - how official. A show of respect? Or perhaps an intimidation tactic?
“Had I been informed of your acceptance of my offer, I would have brought the lady a present from my travels. I apologize,” the man speaks up and the deep tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine and it makes your fingers feel numb.
The chance to answer is taken from you, as your father laughs, “It is forthcoming enough of you to come by so quickly right after your mission even after we took so much time to answer. I apologize. I hope the shogun was not offended by my leisure.”
When his hand settles on your shoulder, you feel as if someone put a heavy boulder on top of it. Its warmth feels uncomfortable through the already too-warm layers of your expensive kimono.
“We wanted to make sure that my daughter understands just how much of an honor this truly is,” he explains and it takes every ounce of patience you have to not grimace when he sends you a disapproving look.
They had ridiculed you. Made fun of you for being wed off to a man with a permanent ailment and your father had nearly beaten you senseless, as if it was your fault the shogun had set up the blind executioner with you. In your father’s eyes, this was a failure that was indeed caused by your lacking persona. He’d told you how this reflected poorly upon his relationship with the shogun.
“Do you know what this means? What this says about how much he values me? My daughter is worth nothing more than a crippled man!”
A crippled man who could cut you down this instant - is what you think to yourself. While you have never met the man face to face, he was the Yamada Asaemon who was assigned to your part of the town, protecting it from criminals. Daimyōs like your father would claim themselves to be the peacekeepers, while all they did was send their men to a certain death while filling their own stomachs with more food than the pigs they feed on could eat.
Thankfully, the voice inside your head is loud and clear. You can yell and scream and insult the man who had taken part in your birth as eloquently as you wished to. It is the only comfort you have. The only humor you can possibly find in such a predicament.
They exchange pleasantries, one man clearly far more genuine than the other, until your father nudges your side. “Go take a walk with your husband and then lead him back for some tea. We will have some things to discuss, which I shall prepare for this instant.”
Monetary things, surely. It seems your life as an entertainer continues from here on out, but your crowd seems to slowly shift. How miserable.
Getting up, you’re proud of how you manage not to stumble over the layers of fabric that seem to be draped endlessly over your body. “Let me lead you through the garden,” you speak demurely, still keeping your gaze low out of respect.
It is when you’re outside, the door shut behind you, and a few steps into the garden, that he speaks up. This time, it’s directed at you. For the first time today.
“Are you alright?”
It’s a simple question and the answer lays heavy on your tongue but you swallow it down. “Of course.”
“Would you look at me then?”
You stop walking, keeping your gaze no higher than his chest, “I am not sure if that is alright, my Lord.”
His tone now is much more mild and something in his tone tells you he is smiling. “You can drop the odd honorifics and titles. I am going to be your husband soon, am I not?” The rough pads of his fingers are gentle as he tugs you closer by the sleeve of your kimono, ever so slightly. Like a child asking for an adult’s attention.
“Or do you wish to annul the marriage? Perhaps, you have taken me into the garden so you could reject me dramatically, with a more illustrious scenery to fit the moment? Although I must admit, the visual aspects of such endeavors are usually lost on me,” the man tells you and when a soft gasp leaves your lips, you tilt your head up only to be met with a smile that makes your cheeks burn.
“Such jokes seem a little…of ill taste.”
“Even if I am the one making them? It is my ailment after all. Am I not allowed to make light of it?”
There is nothing clever you can quip back but your desire to do so anyway surprises you. Usually, you do well on holding back any snide comments but he makes it easy to let go of that control.
A defeated breath leaves your lips as you look at him. Carefully, his fingers travel along the end of your sleeve, grabbing your hand gently. His hand is warm, a little rough - from his sword, you assume - but the way it holds yours is very gentle.
“I hope you can forgive me for being this casual but I need you to know that I mean well with you. I know this arrangement isn’t ideal for you-”
You wonder if it is ideal for him.
“-and while I don’t know the exact circumstances of your life here…,” he tilts his head towards the main house, where your father must still be sitting inside, “I can at least promise that I will treat you as my equal. That is also all I wish for in return.”
He seems to know a lot about your family, even the parts that aren’t privy to the general public. Narrowing your eyes at him, you step a little closer, inquiring, “Why would you offer me this so selflessly? What do you gain from this arrangement?”
The man in front of you crosses his arms and a thoughtful expression crosses his face. He frowns slightly as he collects his thoughts and you think to yourself that he is quite handsome. On top of that, he seems to be as well-behaved as the ladies your mother would bring over would whisper to each other.
How ironic that you’d roll your eyes at their daydreams about the man and yet here you are, about to be married off to him.
“I think,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “You are someone who I wish to treat well.”
The wind blows softly, moving the fabric of your kimono ever so slightly and conducting a symphony of leaves as it slips through the bushes and trees of the garden. Taken aback, you blink up at him for a few moments. You take a deep breath, lick your lips, and then open your mouth slightly.
Only to close it again.
Shion suppresses a laugh and you gape up at him, heat licking its way up your spine as he squeezes your hands gently. “I did step forward when the shogun offered this arrangement. Just as you have inevitably heard a lot about me, I have also heard a lot about the lady in return.”
He lets go of your hands but the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin and you almost feel saddened by the loss of physical contact. “I know the members of your family are the ones who are responsible for the uniforms of the Yamada Asaemon, as well as the clothing for the shogun, no?” he asks with a tilt of his head and you notice that he does this a lot. It’s cute and makes him seem a lot more approachable, coupled with that soft smile.
“The previous shogun took a liking to the work of my grandmother and appointed her as his personal seamstress. My mother takes care of the current shogun’s robes and I take care of the ones that all of the Yamada Asaemon wear,” you explain, despite your feeling that he might already know that.
Shion nods and smiles, “You were the one who sent me my uniform without the bell attached. I took the liberty to ask who was considerate enough to do such a thing.”
“So you decided to marry me because I didn’t attach a bell to your uniform?” you ask him, still lost on his motives. What a strange man.
It is then, that the peaceful conversation and the prospect of a proper reply is shattered by the voice of your father. It is almost impressive how the man manages to sound as if he had woven five layers of suppressed anger into his voice. You flinch and Shion’s expression falls slightly as he notices your change in posture.
With a soft sigh, he puts a guiding hand on your upper back for a short moment, redirecting you back towards the house as the both of you walk back. It’s quiet for a moment, the air thick with tension before he dispells it easily once more.
“I accepted the offer because I was curious if I could be a considerate husband towards such a kind person. Perhaps I also simply feel like I have a favor to return.”
A husband in return for a change in uniform design might be the oddest deal you have struck thus far.
You’re sitting across from your husband for the first time since your wedding. Right after the small ceremony, work had pulled him from your now shared home and you did not get the chance to spend any time with him.
Perhaps it was for the better. His absence had given you the chance to make yourself familiar with this house you’d be calling your home from now on. You’d wandered the corridors, made your feet familiar with the grass of the garden until it got too cold to do so, and listened to the way the empty branches danced with the wind as they parted from a few of their leaves. You wondered if they’ve held fruit this year. The trees seem familiar but you cannot put a name to them.
In those moments you had to yourself, it had been peaceful. This house feels more like a home than the grand estate of the daimyō - your father - ever did. Now you share this home with the man sitting across from you.
Your hands lay on top of the small table, your tea untouched.
Shion clears his throat and your head snaps up so you can face him, ready to listen to whatever he’s going to say.
“I am sorry for how uncomfortable this must be for you,” he says, sounding a little resigned. In turn, it makes you feel a little sorry.
“It’s not your fault!” you hurry to speak, your hand instinctively reaching out to offer some comfort but you’re unsure if he’d be okay with you touching his hand, so you drop it softly, letting it rest on the table again. “I am just not too sure what to say. This is my first time being married.”
Your words cause him to hold back a laugh and you feel heat climb into your cheeks. That was a dumb thing to say.
“What a coincidence,” he tells you and the lines at the corners of his eyes become more pronounced when he smiles, “It’s my first time being married as well.”
His joke eases the tension you’re feeling and you feel your shoulders loosen up a little. There is something very comforting about his smile and the lines of his face almost carry a sense of familiarity but you struggle to put your finger on the reason for it.
“How was your work today?” you ask, grabbing a hold of your cup and drinking your tea. Finally. It’s only lukewarm now but that doesn’t matter too much.
Shion looks amused. “Do you really wish to know? My work isn’t the best topic for a lighthearted conversation between newlyweds… Unless you are harboring a sadistic side I was not made aware of?”
You grimace. “Never mind then. Apologies for asking, you’re right.”
A low chuckle leaves his lips as he brings his cup to his lips. Your gaze is drawn to the lines of his throat as he drinks and your ears feel a little warm.
After he puts it down again, he speaks once more, “I have a student who is going to be appointed as one of the Yamada Asaemon soon. Today, I spent most of the day training with him. No violent business.”
A strange sense of relief settles in your chest and you nod. “That sounds nice… Is it difficult to be a teacher to somebody else? I tried teaching one of the other daimyōs’ daughters how to sew once but I fear I lack the patience to offer guidance of any sort.”
“So you’re the impatient type?”
“It depends,” you defend yourself quickly, “I can be patient if I want to be. Are you going to answer my question?”
“There it is - your patience,” Shion retorts and you feel irked, breathing in deeply, causing him to laugh.
“Anyway, it’s not so much that it is difficult, it just requires a willingness to understand the other. When teaching, you cannot apply the same words and actions to every pupil you teach. Not everybody is receptive to my ways of teaching.”
Humming in reply, you think out loud, “Are you a strict teacher?”
“I can be.”
“I cannot imagine that. Put on a frown for me, please. To stimulate my fantasy,” you plead, a little too excitedly before you cough and clear your throat, reining it in again.
His eyebrows pull together and yeah - he does look a little intimidating but soon enough a smile tugs on his lips and the muscles of his face fail him. He breaks the strict facial expression in favor of a charming, slightly awkward smile.
“Did that stimulate your fantasy?” he asks with raised brows and your teeth sink into your lower lip, as you’re trying to hold back your grin.
“Plenty. Thank you,” you reply, drinking the rest of your tea before getting up and grabbing a hold of his empty cup, carrying both of them to the kitchen before returning once more.
Instead of sitting down, you decide to walk towards the shelf that covers the entire wall on one side of the living room, standing in front of it as you have done plenty of times during the first few days here.
“Perhaps I can get someone to do the household chores soon-” Shion begins but you cut him off.
“There is no need. I enjoy playing house. My cooking may not be up to par but I fear you will just have to show me some of that patience of yours in that regard,” you smile. “We may have had servants at home but to be honest, that kind of lifestyle has never suited me much.”
“What kind of lifestyle suits you then?” Genuine curiosity resounds in his question and you hum softly in response.
“Perhaps we will just have to find out together,” you offer, reaching out to run a hand over the back of a little booklet. A scroll lays on top of it so you carefully pull it out.
“I apologize if this is an improper question to ask but why do you collect so much poetry and so many stories when you cannot read them by yourself?”
After offering up this question, you turn towards him again, slowly unraveling the scroll as you wait for his reply. Unsure, your eyes flit towards his form again before settling back on the calligraphy displayed on the scroll.
“Whenever I go out to the market, I stop by the place where they sell poetry. The vendors read it to me and I buy it if it appeals to me. It’s a simple explanation, really,” Shion explains. “Surely, you buy things you’re fond of a lot too, right? Even if they aren’t necessarily something you’re able to use a lot.”
"Even if it were something of the past,
With each day the white snow falls,
My love for you grows stronger,
Surpassing all that came before."
Your eyes wander over the words on the scroll carefully while you answer him absentmindedly, “I wasn’t allowed to buy what I desired. However, sometimes I would receive fabrics as a present, from a dear aunt of mine. That would be my personal little luxury.”
Shion frowns, “The daimyō is quite the strict man, isn’t he?”
“Imagine dealing with the shogun and then multiply that by twenty. Perhaps then you’ll get close to just how difficult he is to deal with.” Your eyes flit towards his face and you wonder, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not looking at you,” he refutes and you stay quiet for a moment.
“You are quite fond of these kinds of jokes, aren’t you?”
“I find them incredibly amusing,” he replies, smiling in a terribly boyish manner. Adorable, is what you think it is but you would not dare to say that out loud.
Clearing your throat, you read the poem on the scroll out loud in the way you were taught to do it - with an elegant tone and yet, carrying a tempo that commands attention. Your literary criticism is immediate, “This is a little sad, is it not? Why would one yearn for something that’s in the past… Wouldn’t that just break your heart?”
Shion thinks about your words for a moment before smiling softly. “Something from the past might just return to become a part of your present, no? Also, I do think it’s important to cherish beloved memories.”
His words hang in the room between the both of you and for a faint moment you get the feeling that he is waiting for something else but then he gets up before you can ask any further questions.
“Come on. Let’s go out and get some fresh air. We can continue our talks about the depths of feelings of the past outside,” Shion invites you and you huff, before following him.
“Don’t pour him sake,” Shion tells you and you sigh, switching over to pour sake into your own cup. It’s clear that you have had too much to drink tonight and Tenza is finding great humor in it.
He whisper-shouts your name, pulling on your kimono sleeve excitedly. “And then? What did Sensei say?”
Right. You were in the middle of your retelling of an uncomfortable encounter with a man on the street before you decided to be nice and pour Tenza some of the sake as well. It’s the first time you've had a drink like this. Before, you were not allowed to drink any alcohol but tonight, Shion brought out some sake for you two to share. Tenza decided to join, in search of some entertainment.
“He said ‘I suggest you keep your hands off my wife’ and looked at the guy all scary. Like this,” you giggle, leaning onto your hand, your elbow propped up onto the table as you try to imitate Shion’s expression from back then. It doesn’t look anything like any of his expressions at all and the grimace you’re pulling is so ridiculous, that Tenza snorts loudly.
The tips of Shion’s ears are a little flushed and he shifts awkwardly. His voice is gentle yet firm. “I could not let someone harass you,” he mumbles, drinking from his cup.
“I knew sensei was a protective person but love really does change-oof!” Tenza groans and reaches down to rub his shin, right where Shion just kicked him under the small desk.
“Training tomorrow will begin an hour earlier than usual. Go get some sleep,” Shion urges the young man with a voice so kind that his words almost seem harmless. Tenza’s mouth is caught in a permanent gasp now, at the consequences of his nosy actions. While his mentor can be a little strict, he was not used to him practically throwing him out of his home.
Grumbling, he gets up and bows to you, foregoing his bow towards his mentor. “Good night. Please prepare more stories of sensei’s gallant acts for the next time I come over,” he tells you, a grin pulling on his lips.
With a grin of your own, you reach out and ruffle his hair, breaking into a fit of giggles when he groans about you ruining it.
The world spins and you decide to rest your head on the table. You don’t know how much time passes as Shion leads Tenza back to the entrance to bid him goodbye. Their voices are far away and you close your eyes, feeling a little dizzy.
Cool fingers touch your forehead. “You had too much to drink,” your husband tells you gently, sounding a little amused. Still, there is a hint of worried care underlying his words.
“No such thing happened…,” you mumble and Shion huffs softly, sitting down next to you. Slowly, he traces his fingertips over your face, running them over the apples of your cheeks, along your brow bone before following the lines of your lips.
“Don’t touch my face,” comes your complaint, slurred and hard to understand with your cheek pressed against the table.
Your husband merely smiles but you don’t see it, your eyes still closed. “I am looking at you,” he says in a tone that is so tender that it causes you to take a peek at him. The smile on his lips is a sweet one, so gentle that it pulls on your heartstrings. His brows are drawn together as his fingers draw shapes over your face and it makes him look painfully emotional.
The thought of him not knowing what you look like twists something inside your chest and your throat feels as if you’ve tried to swallow a small rock.
“I am looking at you as well,” you tell him and it would have made for an intimate moment, were it not for how jumbled your words sound due to the alcohol. He laughs softly and cups your cheeks with his hands to turn your face towards him better. His hands are warm, the skin a little rough from the regular use of his sword but they offer a comfort and now something you dare to call familiarity, that you wish to hold onto.
“You look at me a lot.”
“Because you’re handsome,” you shoot back and he looks a little taken aback, the tips of his ears flushing red. With newfound bravery, generously sponsored by the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream, you reach out and cup his face in return. Running your thumb over his ear, you giggle.
“You’re pretty drunk. Let me help you get to bed,” with that he gently tugs your hand away from his face and you pout as he helps you up. Shion wraps his arm around you, helping you to get to your room.
Your hands hold onto the fabric of his kimono. There is something about the way he looked at you when you told him he’s handsome. You decide that you don’t like it. “I really think you are handsome. It’s not the sake,” you promise, tugging on the fabric of his robes.
He pulls you along gently, opening the door to your bedroom before entering with you. Shion helps you get ready for bed, as much as is appropriate. When you change into your clothes for the night, he even turns to face away from you. Watching his broad back, you snort.
“It’s not like you can see me, even if I were to be entirely naked,” you tell him. The tips of his ears are red again and he huffs, shuffling in place.
“It feels inappropriate,” he mumbles, keeping his back turned towards you. “Did you get dressed already?” It’s quiet for a moment and he clears his throat, “If it’s alright, I will turn around-”
Your fingers find the back of his robes, tugging him closer gently… Or are you the one moving closer to him? Shion isn’t sure and his feet feel heavy, yet oddly light, as if he doesn’t have any in the first place. Your arms are warm as they wrap around his middle. As far as he can tell, they’re bare.
“Now, this is inappropriate.”
“We are married,” you tell him, leaning against his back, your cheek rubbing against the spot between his shoulder blades fondly. He’d compare you to a cat if your proximity didn’t toss his thoughts into a big, disorganized pile inside his mind.
“It’s cold. You should get dressed,” he tells you, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. His breath is heavy and his tongue feels restless inside his mouth. It’s too hot and his body is yelling at him to simply take a step forward and a way from your body against his back.
He doesn’t.
You remove yourself from his back and he hears the rustling of fabric, coupled with your clumsy steps. “Don’t trip. Be careful,” he tells you and you simply hum, pulling on your robes to sleep in.
“I was wearing my kosode,” you tell him when he turns around and he nods, guiding you to your futon and helping you lay down as he sits by your side. “I wouldn’t hug you if I was indecent. Not even if it was because of the alcohol.”
With a sigh, he nods again and when he tries to stand up after having made sure you’re safe and sound in bed, you grab onto his clothes again. As he regards you with a raised brow, you feel odd. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or this strange tension that hangs in the air between you. Maybe that is due to the alcohol too. Perhaps, this is why your parents never let you drink before.
“Stay. I can read to you if you stay with me for a while longer,” you whisper and Shion faces you for a moment, quietly. It’s a little cheeky to offer such a thing this late at night - to ask someone to stay a while longer already has its implications but something like that, to him at least-
A smile tugs on his lips and he reaches forward, gently rubbing his thumb between your brows, chasing away the frown that he finds with such accuracy, that you truly wonder as to how easy he finds it to understand you without needing to see.
“What if the letters start dancing across the scroll?” he teases you for your tipsy state as he gets up to grab one of his poem collections for you to read out loud to him.
“Then we’ll just have to dance with them,” is all you offer and he huffs before leaving the room for a moment.
You hear him chuckling on his way down the hall to the living room.
“The old pond.
A frog leaps in -
The sound of the water.”
“So…the frog jumps into the pond?”
“You’re quite quick with your deductions, aren’t you?” Shion teases, and you raise your brow at him, pursing your lips in a dissatisfied pout.
“And you have bad taste in poetry. Why did you buy this? If you are in search of obvious retellings of natural happenings, I can be your source for that kind of information for the rest of your days,” you mumble, looking back at the scroll again as you lay on your tummy.
One of you visiting the other’s room with poetry or stories in hand has become a habit. You’ve been spending the past weeks reading to him - faithfully, every single evening. Both of you seem to regard this as an essential part of your days despite not talking about it. Just like how you avoid putting a name to the feelings that have blossomed in your chest.
Shion feels his chest tighten at your casual promise of a life together. The teasing lilt of his voice turns into a warm and comforting one as his hand reaches out to gently cup your cheek. His thumb strokes over your protruding lower lip until you stop pouting. “But can you be as picturesque with your words?” he asks and you grumble.
“How would you even rate that?”
It slips out before you can do anything about it, hours of frustration from trying to work your way around clever plays on kanji, as well as the haikus of Basho taking a toll on you.
“I am so sorry,” you say, trying to get up but your husband tugs on your yukata, urging you to stay on the comfortable futon.
“The old pond has always been peaceful. Quiet and undisturbed,” he speaks, undeterred by your antics and your little joke at his expense but you can tell that he is fighting off a smile. You being comfortable enough to join in on his neverending jokes about his ailment is causing him to feel a warmth that makes him feel unsure whether he wants to share it with you or lock it away inside himself for colder times.
“And then, a little frog comes along. It’s cheeky and doesn’t care about the current ways of the pond. So, mischievous as it is, it jumps into the calm little pond, causing a commotion. A big splash, a loud noise,” Shion murmurs softly, his fingers moving down your arm as he reaches for your hand.
Almost naturally, he laces his fingers between yours and concludes, “Ripples move all over the place as the frog breaks the surface of the water. The calm pond is no more.”
Shion’s attention is entirely on you now and you look up at him as he sits next to you on the futon. You take a moment to process his words, wiggling your fingers between his while you are deep in your thoughts.
“Is that kind of disturbance really that bad? Surely, for a pond that has never experienced anything, aside from its boring quiet life, something like that must be quite exciting, no?”
Amused, Shion lifts your hand to his lips, pressing gentle kisses against the tips of your fingers, one by one before he replies, “It’s quite exhilarating.”
A grin tugs on your lips. “So you’re the pond now?”
“Indeed, and you’re the cheeky little thing that decided to shake my life up a little.”
Pricks of warmth climb their way up to your neck and you suppress a shiver. “Is that so…,” you mumble quietly, feeling a little flustered at how happy he sounds about your presence in his life. It grows quiet once more as you return to the poem. Your husband keeps your hand in his and runs his thumb over the side of your finger.
A soft yawn escapes your lips and you blink tiredly, finally noticing how heavy your eyelids feel.
“The kanji for ‘frog’ can be read as ‘to return’,” Shion tells you and you look up at him for a moment, mulling over his words. His attention is fully on you and when he notices that you are lacking a reply, he almost seems a little…disappointed?
“Which also means, the little frog needs to return to her room for tonight,” he concludes and you sigh. With a nod, you get up and as per usual, he accompanies you to your bedroom. Despite how it is almost right next to his own; only a few steps away.
Leaning down, he kisses your forehead ever so gently before bidding you good night and returning to his room.
Your forehead feels warm throughout the entire night as your hand rests on top of it in an attempt to preserve the feeling of his lips against your skin for a moment longer.
Crimson stains your vision on a cold winter day, breaking the abundance of pure white that your eyes have gotten used to.
The smell of iron stings deep inside your nose and your ears feel as if they have been filled with cotton. When you part your lips to speak, nothing escapes your dry throat and you force yourself to swallow before trying anew, “W-What-”
“Just help me get him inside. Quick!” Tenza all but shouts and you comply, your movements almost mechanical as you open the door fully, closing it behind him and leading him to the bedroom.
“Shouldn’t we call a doctor?” you ask, your hands anxiously grabbing onto the fabric of your kimono. You want to reach out and help but you are afraid of hurting your husband even more. You’re not even sure where he is hurting. All you see is how his clothes are stained a deep red.
Nausea climbs its way up your throat but you force it down. Carefully, you help Tenza sit him down. The young man seems unsure what to do himself, sweat beading on his forehead. He’s in distress but he is trying to keep it together.
You feel pathetic.
The wound is on his back and once you know this, it seems clear as day. The back of his clothes is dripping blood and you wince. “I sent for the medic, he should be-”
“Go wait for him outside. Someone needs to guide him here. I will take care of Shion until then.”
Tenza hesitates, shuffling a little before he springs up and into action, leaving the room. Carefully, you brace Shion against your body, unsure of how to lay him down, so this seems like the best option.
“I wanted to see you,” he rasps and you think you misheard. Shifting, you hold him in your embrace, his chest pressed against yours as you grab the thick blanket by your side. Pushing his uniform off his shoulders, you try not to react to the cut on his back. Using the blanket, you apply pressure on his wound. It doesn’t work too well.
“It’ll be okay…” you mumble, not sure whether you are trying to comfort him or reassure yourself. His head is resting on top of your shoulder, his fingers twisting into the fabric of your kimono. You had put on the purple one with the intricate patterns that could be felt by his curious hands. The fondness he expressed over this kimono did not escape you.
You had put it on for when you’d welcome him back. If you had hugged him, would he have been surprised? Would he have hugged you back, delighted by your affection? How long would it have taken him to realize what you’re wearing? Your husband has a sharp mind - you doubt it would have taken long.
Now the soft purple is ruined, stained murky red. Like an overripe plum thrown to the ground and stepped on until there was only a puddle of mush and juice left.
A wave of nausea hits you again, your hands pressing against his back with firmness, ignoring the wetness against your fingertips.
Tenza’s voice cuts through the deafening, high-pitched sound that has crawled its way into your ears as it chases away any and all thoughts, and relief floods you as your eyes lock onto the doctor he brings in tow. The older man seems calm enough at the sight of the wound, once you remove the bedsheet, that you feel a bit of it seeping into you as well.
It would be okay.
The doctor redirects your attention to the task of making sure that Shion stays awake as he works on cleaning the wound and stitching it up. Tenza scurries about the place, grabbing water and supplies from all over the place and he seems glad not to have to sit there in silence.
You hold onto Shion, asking him questions about his trip - What did he eat? How was the weather? Did he find something exciting and new?
His replies are sluggish, his head heavy on your shoulder but he answers, despite how strained he sounds. You try your best to not look at the stitches.
Once it’s done and finished, Tenza helps you change Shion into a comfortable kimono and your eyes find no joy in roaming over his body. All those little scars littering his body cause your thoughts to spiral. How much has he endured in the past? How much would he have to endure in the future?
Pushing those thoughts away, you carefully lay him down on his front, not daring to put any strain on his back. The doctor informs you about the things you should be aware of, instructing you on how to clean the wound and how to aid in his recovery. Tenza gets up to guide him out and when he sends a questioning look filled with worry your way, you simply shake your head and wave your hand to shoo him away.
The young man has had enough of a strenuous day as is.
“You can go home for today. I can handle the rest,” you tell him, still holding your husband in your arms. The look he gives you is not one that screams that he believes you much but his fatigue wins over his desire to help you and a mere nod ends up being his reply to your words.
“I will return after I finish reporting this to the others,” he tells you before he leaves and the moment he closes the door, it’s as if he’s sealed you inside a vacuum. You don’t know how you maneuver Shion onto the futon on his stomach but by the time you’ve snapped back into reality, he’s situated comfortably on it, pillows cushioning the parts of him that need it.
—
It takes a few days for him to get back into a condition where you don’t fear that his fever might turn his brain into charcoal. The snow has settled outside but the cold that seeps into your body every night as you lay next to him, waiting for him to wake up, is not due to the cold weather outside.
Your relief is endless when you enter his room in the morning to see him sitting up on his futon. He looks a little tired and a touch more pale than he usually does but he seems to not be waiting in front of death’s door anymore.
Quickly, you hurry to his side, kneeling next to him. Your hands hover over his body, unsure where to hold onto, the desire to help him in any way you can thrumming within your limbs. “How are you feeling?” you ask carefully, your hands moving to busy themselves by smoothing out the sleeves of his robe.
Your fingertips burn with a desire to touch him, to make sure this is real.
Shifting a little, he carefully rolls his shoulders back, hissing at the hot flash of pain. Immediately, one of your hands lands on his back, gently resting below the injury and offering support. “Don’t move too much. The injury is still not fully closed up.”
A raspy sigh leaves his lips. “I am sorry for causing you trouble,” he mutters, his voice strained from days of not talking. His brows are furrowed and his breathing is still a little heavy. A frown that mirrors his own makes its home on your expression.
“You are my husband. There is no such thing as causing me trouble,” you utter, gently flicking your finger against his forehead. He could easily move out of the way but he takes it in stride, the frown on his face giving way to a softer expression.
“Then allow me to rephrase that: Thank you for taking care of me,” he tells you and you smile gently. Your hand stays on his lower back, your thumb rubbing back and forth over his skin.
“I was a little afraid that you wouldn’t wake up again. It’s silly and I know that but…,” Withdrawing your hands from his body, you fix the blanket over his legs. “That day I thought you’d bleed out in my arms, Shion. I am not a doctor, so coming to me first - in that kind of state…”
The only thing that hangs in the air between the both of you is silence before his hand moves to take one of your own, gently untangling the blanket from your fingers. You didn’t notice that you had been grasping onto the fabric way too tightly. His hand holds yours firmly enough to reassure you of his presence.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone like that,” he tells you quietly, squeezing gently. When you look back up at him again, he smiles warmly, His fingers move to tease your palm softly, tickling you, as he asks, “Who else would explain all of those poems to you?”
Slowly, your frown slowly melts into an amused expression and you shake your head. “They don’t make sense. Trust me, I have spent enough time complaining about them while you were resting.”
Shion’s eyebrows quirk up at that. “Did you read to me while I was asleep?”
For a moment, there is no reply from you. He’s left in the dark and the only thing that reminds him of your presence is the weight of your hand in his.
You clear your throat, “I thought it would be rude to just stop reading to you.” Anxiously, your fingers press into his hand ever so slightly. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone.”
You don’t notice that he has gotten closer to you until his forehead bumps against your temple softly, and his hand finds the back of your neck. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you, my lovely wife,” he whispers tenderly.
Turning your face towards him a little more, you sigh softly, your forehead pressed against his as your breaths intermingle. “You need to be more careful from now on. This house is too big for me to live in by myself,” you complain and he laughs softly. His lips are so close to yours that you feel your cheeks heat up beyond a level you consider comfortable.
You shift and move away slightly. He seems reluctant about letting you go but does so regardless. Cleaning up the supplies that you have kept around his futon, you watch how he shifts in discomfort. “Are you alright?”
“I need a bath,” he mutters, scrunching up his nose. These past few days you’d wipe him down but for someone who is as clean and as thorough about his hygiene as he is, this must be a nightmare. There is no way he can go by himself though. Not with how hurt he is.
“I will help you wash up,” you announce and the grimace he pulls makes you laugh. Firmly, you grab onto his upper arm where he is not hurt, carefully helping him up onto his feet. On the way to the bath, you support his weight, thankful for the fact that the houses of the Yamada Asaemon all have their own private baths. Helping him wash up in a public bath would have proven to be very complicated.
Steam envelops you merely a few minutes later. Your husband is sitting on a wooden stool in front of you, only covered by a simple tenugui. Carefully, you remove the bandages on top of his injury. With bated breath, Shion waits for a reaction but it never comes. Tentatively he asks, “Is it bad?”
“It’s healing up nicely,” you answer calmly, feeling a little emotionally detached whenever you look at it. The nausea that would take over whenever you’d look at it, left after the fourth day of taking care of him. There were more important things to deal with and it had faded into the background.
The thought of you getting used to violence like that in any way deeply aggravates Shion. He feels a little helpless and it seems to show. Your wet fingers meet his face when you tilt his head back so gently that it fills him with the desire to reward every single one of your fingertips that have bestowed such a tender touch upon him.
“Are you alright?” you ask, your fingers moving to gently trace over his eyebrows, fixing them in place before following along the lines of his scars. There is something about them that makes you feel weirdly nostalgic in a way that causes something to stir in your chest but you pour water on that warmth, preventing the spark that might offset something.
The way you are right now is alright.
“It just feels a little unfamiliar to be this exposed in front of you,” he tells you, his breath warm against your face and it is only then that you realize that you have been leaning down to be closer to his face.
The way his lashes brush against the top of his cheeks makes you want to lean even closer but you clear your throat, straightening your back again before allowing him to tilt his head forward once more.
“You’re covered up. I wouldn’t mind either way. We are married and eventually, we’d come into contact with each other like this,” stating this firmly, you move on to wash his hair. His ears are flushed a soft red but the bath is warm so you pay it no mind.
Surprised at his hair’s softness, you find yourself taking much more time than necessary to run your fingers through the tufts of silvery white, separating the strands before pushing them back together again. Your fingertips push into his scalp in a gentle massage.
When your nails join in on the fun and you tug on his hair a little, a sharp intake of breath echoes through the little room and your fingers leave his scalp.
Turning away, you grab a hold of the little bucket and scoop water into it. Once you turn back, your husband’s ears are still decorated with that healthy flush that now spreads to his shoulders.
“I would like to let you soak in the tub for a bit but it seems your fever is coming back,” you mumble, washing his body clean with water before helping him dry himself off with a soft towel.
Handing him his robe, you turn away to let him get dressed once more, albeit you tell him to not pull the upper part of the robe up. Instead, Shion leaves it down, the garment tied around his waist securely as the both of you walk back to his room. It’s cold and the way he shivers ever so slightly pushes you to walk a bit quicker.
Once you arrive, he settles on his futon and you get to work. With practiced movements, you put the ointment on his wound before dressing it carefully to ensure that nothing would be able to mess with the healing process.
It’s an action you don’t think about at all when you lean forward to press a kiss on top of the bandage. Shion startles slightly, turning his head towards you. You realize and freeze. “Don’t look at me,” you mumble, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment flood your body.
He turns around to face you, your embarrassment no hindrance to him as he pulls you into a hug. “I am not looking at you,” he mumbles back cheekily, his hands pressing you closer against his body. His upper body is warm against you and very naked but the need for comfort outweighs your bashfulness and you carefully wrap your arms around him, mindful of his injury.
Something as simple as a hug shouldn’t cause you to feel a feeling as bittersweet as the one that pulses within your chest right now but you don’t remember the last time someone had held you like this.
You don’t think anyone ever has.
If Shion can feel the way your shoulders tremble and how your wet lashes brush against his skin, he does a good job not commenting on it. All he does is hold you tightly as he whispers, mere inches away from your ear, “I am really happy that I got to return to you. While I was gone, I was really anxious about how you were doing back home.”
He sighs. “I am sorry for being reckless.”
Pressing his lips against the top of your head, he sighs softly, confessing, “I missed you.”
Your breath is warm against his shoulder as you stay like this for a while. He holds you until the trembling subsides and you part with a shaky exhale. With care, you reach out to pull up his yukata, helping him get his arms inside the sleeves before draping it over his shoulders.
It’s late. The darkness slowly settles outside as stars creep out of their homes and show themselves in the night sky. Shion gets comfortable on his futon, laying on his stomach as per your orders while you go ahead and grab something to read to him.
You return with a new story for him - no poetry this time - wanting to have an excuse to spend more time with him. Rationally, you know you don’t need an excuse to spend time with your husband who is more than generous enough to let you waste all of his free time but still, this is the method of your choosing, your very own way of circling around your feelings.
It’s easier to push them aside if you don’t verbalize them - if they don’t hang in the air between you and make it difficult to breathe. Suddenly those silly poems make a little more sense and the longing described feels more palpable.
The cold doesn’t seem to be a problem to you anymore. You feel too warm.
You discard the haori that you had worn over your kimono all day long to shield you from the cold. Instead of putting it away, you carefully cover Shion’s back and shoulders with it, mantling his body with it like a blanket.
Bemusedly, he pulls it closer around himself. “It smells like lavender, just like you do,” he breathes out, sounding a little exhausted as he settles, laying his head atop his pillow. Snickering at how docile he looks, you settle on his futon as well, right next to him on your tummy.
Your fingers move to comb back a particularly messy patch of hair right at the top of his forehead, your eyes surrounded by tiny folds as deep as your affection for the sweet man as you smile fondly. Absent-mindedly, your fingers make their way through his hair, over the nape of his neck, and down his arm until they find his fingers, and then they travel back up to his shoulder.
Today, it’s difficult to keep your hands to yourself but he seems to be alright with that. So you don’t, and simply continue touching him, while you begin to read.
“The days and months are travelers of eternity, just like the years that come and go. For those who pass their lives afloat on boats, or face old age leading horses tight by the bridle, their journeying is life, their journeying is home.”
Shion listens to you, letting out a soft hum of acknowledgement here and there. His face twitches in reaction to the words every now and then when he scrunches up his nose at some of the details, or when he smiles at how you dramatize certain passages.
By the time you reach the end of the book, your voice is lower than usual, much more intimate and quiet. The way your fingers casually trace over the nape of his neck, right where his hair meets his skin, has his skin burning. Flipping his pillow over, he buries one side of his face against the cool material in hopes of bringing comfort to the heat that wells up inside him.
Intrigued by his antics, you turn your head towards him once you finish the book, putting it away. Leaning closer, you pout as your fingers rub at his neck gently. “You must be tired, hm? Let me head off for tonight.”
Swiftly, you move in to press a lingering kiss against the top of his head, before whispering a quick “Good night”. With that, you’re off and once the door is closed, a soft sigh leaves Shion.
As he shifts to get more comfortable, he notices that you’ve left your haori with him. Brows furrowed, he presses the soft fabric closer to his nose, breathing in deeply. It doesn’t just smell of lavender but it smells of you.
It makes him feel an intense sense of yearning and his tongue presses against the roof of his mouth. His hips feel restless as the minutes pass by and his fingers tighten their hold on the haori while his other hand moves a little lower along the front of his body as he leans more onto his side.
The sting of his injury causes him to take in a sharp breath - or rather, it’s the feeling of his hand pressing against the mortifying hardness that is slowly arising underneath his yukata as he hastily pushes the fabric aside. He wishes the pain were more severe. It might have prevented such a shameful situation.
Perhaps the mix of pain and desperation can wash away the shame that threatens to burn his ears as your voice still seems to echo within them, contorting in ways his mind conjures up. You have never made the kind of sounds that plague him at this very moment, that urge him to move his hand and his hips in an attempt to ease this ache. Shion is troubled by this sudden revelation of his mind's creativity.
He wonders what you’d sound like if he worshiped at your feet. If he showed proof of his gratitude, right between your legs. Over and over again, until your cries die out and turn into soft murmurs, until your skin is warmed by his reverence.
Shion returns your haori a few days later in a hurried manner, his face turned away from yours as he hands it to you rather passively before leaving. It’s freshly cleaned and the smell of lavender is nowhere to be found.
It smells like nothing.
It is when the leaves start turning green again and you get to describe the various shades of the flowers blooming in your garden to your husband, that you feel the desire for there to be more within this. How much closer can one really get when they’re married?
Shion treats you well. Not once has he gone back on his promises and you have more than you could wish for. Not only are you well-fed and warm, but you are also free to do what you want and he treats you kindly.
Yet, every kind word of his leaves you with a deep ache.
It is also during that same spring that Shion starts to avoid you.
At first, it’s just the small things. He flinches away from your casual touches. You chalk it up to a miscalculation on your side. Perhaps he is not that comfortable with it after all.
Within your presence, he starts to look increasingly uncomfortable. He is in deep thought most of the time around you, and he doesn’t realize you’ve been calling his name many times in a row, trying to grab his attention.
And then, he blatantly begins to avoid you. The hours you’d spend reading his beloved poetry and long-winded stories to him dwindle down to the smallest fraction of an hour until he tells you that he’s too tired for your shared reading time.
Long pages remain unread, the new stories you’d bought stay hidden within the beautiful fabric you had wrapped them up in to surprise him with, and your nights feel a little colder now, despite the weather warming up.
It is on a warm spring day, that Tenza refuses to leave until you promise him to visit the sakura matsuri later that week. It feels like only yesterday when the plum blossoms in your garden had started to bloom and yet, it was already cherry blossom season. “Bring Shion-sensei with you!” is the last thing he tells you.
It’s not that easy.
Frustration sinks its claws deep into your heart. It’s not as if he doesn’t talk to you anymore or as if he is unkind. He shares with you the same kindness as he did when you got married but that is precisely what irks you.
Back then, you barely knew each other. Back then, you were just happy to have gotten out of that household, away from your father. Back then, you did not harbor this many difficult feelings for this man and it is only when your eyes sting and your lower lip begins to tremble, that you get up.
Distance is not a wall, it can be minimized, one step at a time. Even if it were a wall - you didn’t climb over the manor walls when you were younger for nothing. You’d climb over any wall he would build.
Your feet carry you to his room, a route you’re awfully familiar with by now. Softly, you knock as you take a deep breath. Once your husband bids you inside, you enter.
“Tenza asked for us to go watch the cherry blossoms with him.”
“Did he phrase it like that when asking for our presence? How cheeky,” Shion mumbles, his hands working to polish his sword with an uchiko ball. There is no humor in his tone like there used to be and the straight, confident posture you put up falters ever so slightly.
“I want to go,” you tell him and he nods, still not stopping his work, not turning towards you either.
“You are free to do so. You know you needn’t ask me for permission, as long as there is someone to keep you safe.”
“Together,” you add and he stops, carefully putting down his katana as he finally turns towards you. You continue, “Please, come along. It will be fun. I have been working on a kimono recently and it would be a good opportunity to wear it.”
Shion looks like he might deny you, his brows furrowed, his expression stuck in that internal conflict that has nestled somewhere inside his mind. You wish you had the courage to talk about it, to pester him more whenever he tells you that it’s nothing.
The shuffling of your feet as your toes grow restless against the tatami mats is loud enough for him to relent. A night out might also distract you a little and lift your spirits. Recently, you have been rather quiet and it makes him feel guilty.
He wouldn’t dare pinpoint himself as the cause of the shift in your behavior but he is aware that his recent changes have made you… Uncomfortable, perhaps. Shion doesn’t know what exactly you are feeling but he doesn’t dare to ask. He doesn’t have the right to do so.
With a nod, he complies, “Alright. We can head out together then. It’s at the end of the week, right?”
You didn’t notice that you had been holding your breath, so the first breath you take after his reply feels exhilarating. “Yes! I will ask Tenza where he wants to meet up that day and I will also take care of the rest. Thank you!”
As you hurry out of his room, Shion smiles gently, the pitter-patter of your feet against the floor accompanying him as he picks his tools back up.
—
When the day arrives and he is washing his face as you wander about, getting ready, he is reminded of a poem the old lady at the market has read to him once.
"Even though we may be apart,
if I am to hear that you pine for me
as the Inaba mountain pines,
I shall return to you."
Reaching up, he ruffles up his hair, frustrated by the resurgence of this memory. It is ridiculous to think that you have seemed so excited for him to join because it is him in particular.
The more, the merrier - that is what you’d say whenever you’d invite the other Yamada Asaemon over for dinner, or whenever you’d tell Tenza to tag along for your walks together. Futile, is what it is, to hope and pray and spend his day interpreting your awkward shifting when he’d sent you away that first night, telling you that he was too tired to have you read to him.
Futile, to search for meaning in the way your tone has changed around him. It is especially futile to think about how you’d react if he were to reach out and claim your lips.
His face feels warm.
Your hand is cold as it touches the nape of his neck and he flinches. Dumbstruck, you stand there for a moment. He’s never been one to be surprised by your presence. He had chalked it up to his heightened senses, due to his lack of vision and you’d thought it a good enough explanation. On top of that, he was a seasoned fighter.
“You’re warm… And you seem a little out of it,” you mumble gently, the awkwardness of the past few weeks forgotten in light of the possibility of him being sick. “Are you coming down with a fever?”
“I am alright,” he tells you, sounding a little flustered. Ever so softly, you reach out to lay the back of your hand against his forehead. It doesn’t seem to be a fever but his skin is a little warmer than you’re used to.
With a soft sigh, you let him know, “If you are feeling unwell, we can stay at home, you know?” You take your hand off his forehead but he grabs a hold of it mid-air, tugging it towards his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss against where you had just touched his skin, he breathes deeply.
“I want to go together.”
A tingling sensation spreads over your skin and you smile. “Alright. Let me go grab your kimono.”
“I can get it myself. My closet is right there,” Shion points towards the closet in his room but you huff in reply, pulling your hand out of his hold.
“Now, don’t tell me I spent all week hurrying to finish your kimono, just for you to want to wear one of your old ones. How terribly unkind.” You’re pouting and it weaves itself into your manner of speech in a way that Shion finds so charming that it tugs on the corners of his lips.
“The kimono you were referring to a few days ago when you told me about this…was mine?”
“I have plenty of my own that I have made over the years. Since we have gotten married I have made even more. On top of that, you make sure to gift me fancy fabrics every time we go out, so I wanted to repay that favor,” you tell him, the end of it sounding a little flustered, and he smiles warmly.
“I will gladly wear it then,” he tells you and you smile, content now as you go to retrieve it. You leave most of the work to him, your back turned to him as a way of giving him privacy. It is only the details that you busy yourself with, helping him fix up the obi in a nice way, as well as smoothing out the odd wrinkle or two.
A happy smile tugs on your lips. “Is it comfortable?”
Shion runs his hand over the sleeves, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. “This is incredibly soft,” he mumbles softly, almost in awe. You smile triumphantly.
“I found this fabric the other day when I was out with Tenza. I wanted to make sure you get to enjoy the clothes you wear. Just for your knowledge, the color is really pretty too. A dark blue. It reminded me of the night sky so I just had to take it with me,” you explain proudly and he smiles.
“Thank you,” is all he replies but it’s filled with enough tenderness to make up for the lack of colorful words.
You feel at ease, for the first time in weeks, as the both of you walk towards the designated spot for your meeting with Tenza. Once you meet up with him and some of the other Yamada Asaemon, you feel the rest of your awkwardness dissipate.
It was fine this way. Shion could spend his evening with his colleagues and you could just stay with Sagiri and Tenza, trying out the different foods Tenza would carry over from the stalls to the blanket you were sitting on.
So that is what you do for the entire duration of the little festival. Your hand rests on Sagiri’s arm as the both of you move from one food stall to the next. She doesn’t ask any questions, seemingly knowing that there is something going on which must be solved between you and your husband.
She offers you a gentle squeeze as she rests her hand on top of yours, trying to comfort you. You smile at her but it looks awkward and wrong. The way Shion seemed more approachable again today worries you. If you return home and he ends up going back to his avoidant behavior, you don’t think you’ll know what to do.
You walk back to where the others are sitting.
It is only when everybody is knocked out from either the alcohol, too much food, or long-winded talks, that your group goes silent. Only soft conversations happen here and there. You’re seated on a soft blanket, the cherry trees blossoming around you, their petals illuminated by the moon as they drift onto the grass.
“The plum blossoms in our garden are this pretty too,” you murmur softly. Shion, who is sitting next to you, hums in reply.
“They are almost the same color, right? Both are popular topics for poetry after all.”
“I think plum blossoms are prettier,” you tell him firmly and he huffs softly. His fingers bump into yours on top of the blanket but neither of you move to change anything about that. Turning your head to look his way, you’re startled by how close his face is to yours. It’s quiet for a moment and you feel awkward.
Behind you, Tenza and Sagiri are eagerly mumbling. You catch a few words such as “kiss” and “romantic”, and heat flares up inside your chest. It feels as if Shion is playing pretend in front of everybody tonight. As if everything is alright.
But it’s not.
Getting up quickly, you dust yourself off. “We should head home. It’s late,” you declare, your tone tinged with a sense of detachment that causes Shion to purse his lips but he nods, following suit regardless. He gets up, grabbing what little you had brought along before bidding everybody goodbye and following you.
Brisk is the pace you set, your geta clacking against the floor rhythmically. Shion follows you, two steps behind you as he keeps his attention on you regardless of any distance between you. It’s noticeable and only upsets you more.
Shion tries to strike up a conversation twice. Once, by bringing up the sweets you had tried with Sagiri and the second time by asking about the view. Both times, your replies are curt and to the point, your desire to not talk to him evident.
He doesn’t say anything else.
You step inside the house first, discarding your geta and getting ready to head to your room for tonight. Your endeavor is cut short when you’re pulled back into your husband’s arms, your back against his chest.
“I am sorry if I upset you.” His words are met with silence from you and his arms tighten their hold around you in response as he whispers, “Talk to me. Please.”
“I don’t want to,” is all you reply, grabbing a firm hold of his arms and freeing yourself from his hold. Never one to get overly physical, he lets go of you easily but is persistent regardless when he follows you through the house.
When you open the door to your room, step inside, and turn around to close it, he’s quick to nudge his foot between the sliding door and the frame. Neither of you anticipates just how much power you put into sliding the door shut.
A gasp leaves you when he hisses and pulls his foot away. Immediately, you open the door and pull him inside. “Sit down and let me take a look,” you mumble, guiding him towards your futon. “I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to. I just wanted to-”
“To shut your stupid husband out. I know,” Shion replies as he sits down, a gentle smile tugging on his lips. Regarding him with furrowed brows, you sigh softly as you sit down and grab his foot, squeezing gently.
“Does it hurt?”
“Tenza would stomp on my foot with more force than that during training back when he started. I will be fine,” he reassures you, allowing you to drop his foot on the soft futon. “I am sorry for upsetting you. That was not my intention.”
“Then what was your intention?” It’s a fair question and Shion knows this but despite his desire to tell you everything, he keeps quiet.
“I don’t mind if you aren’t by my side at all times,” you continue, “I was content just being your wife in name but when you go ahead and build up my hopes, treat me with so much care, and familiarity, just to turn around and avoid me-”
Shion feels his heart sink when your words are interrupted by a choked sob and his hands move to cup your cheeks. A Yamada Asaemon’s hands never tremble, for it would be detrimental to the techniques they use for their executions. He swings his blade with firmness, confident in the path he has chosen to tread in this life.
All of his confidence is washed away by the teardrops that run down your cheeks, his thumbs trembling as they wipe them away. Apologies are all that he manages to utter before he pulls you in for a hug.
He breathes in deeply as he holds you. “I was unaware that keeping my distance would affect you so,” leaning down, he buries his face against the side of your neck. “I suffer whenever you aren’t close but when you are close to me I suffer twice as bad. I love you deeply and I have loved you since I can remember.”
Pursing your lips, you sniffle, finding comfort in rubbing your damp cheek against the soft material of his kimono. Allowing for his words to sink in for a moment, you ask, “Is that why you were avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he murmurs softly and your breath hitches when you feel his lips against your throat. Shion takes a deep breath, “I was enduring.”
A wry smile tugs on his lips, hidden away from your sight. He huffs, finding humor in his suffering and you tremble when his warm breath washes over your skin. “The self-control I take such pride in seems to crumble so easily when you’re around me.”
His hands find your waist and his fingertips press into the fabric of your kimono with such desperation and yet, he holds back. As always. “That night…when you read to me and forgot your haori…,” he continues, going lower until his lips are just shy of touching the bit of collarbone that presents itself to him.
“It smelled so much like you that I felt intoxicated by it. Your voice kept ringing in my ears and I was aching to touch you but I couldn’t.” His voice gives way to a shuddering breath when your hands cup his cheeks.
“But you can,” you tell him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. If this was a man’s desire - no, your husband’s desire for you, then you wish for it to swallow you whole and mold you anew.
“I’ve yearned for you to touch me,” you whisper and your breath hitches when you feel attention fully on you as he leans back from your embrace.
“You should have told me.”
“I know,” comes your reply. He doesn’t fault you and neither do you blame him in any way.
“I will make up for the lost time,” Shion promises, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead, “I will leave no inch of you untouched. You won’t ever have to ache for me the way I do for you.”
When you lean forward to press your lips against his - not in that tentative and careful way you used to, whenever you’d kiss his cheek but ardently, with a need that shakes him to his core - only then do you feel his hesitance disappear.
His hands find your waist with a firmness that you have grown familiar with and you smile against his lips, your breathing still stilted by your earlier tears. Shion notices and leans back to kiss your cheeks, right where your tears are drying.
“I love you,” he tells you again, “I love how your voice sounds in the late hours of the night whenever you read to me. The way you smell makes me feel weak, especially when the smell of your favorite sweet treats lingers on you. Whenever I am away from you, I find myself thinking about you endlessly until I come back home.”
Grabbing a gentle hold of your hand, he pulls it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on each fingertip. “I adore these hands that cause my skin to burn beneath their touch.”
“I wouldn’t want to burn you,” you whisper bemused. A smile tugs on his lips and he lets go of your hand in favor of pulling you close.
“I wish you’d burn me terribly. The pain might distract me from my longing,” Shion whispers, his breath warm against your lips. His voice is quiet and you don’t dare to breathe in fear of sending it away with the wind. “May I kiss you?”
With a soft laugh, you pull him closer, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Gently exploring the other, your lips move together, falling into a comfortable, warm rhythm. You’re both a little clumsy, inexperienced, and hurried by your need but it’s sweet nonetheless and it fills the empty cup in your heart ever so slightly.
But a sip like that would not quell your thirst. Not anymore.
Your hands find the obi that they had neatly tied to hold his kimono earlier. Shion lets out a soft breath at the feeling of it untying and your hands diving beneath the fabric of his kimono. “We don’t have to-”
“I want to touch you,” you urge, firmly and in a way that won’t allow for him to question if you are doing this out of your own desire. “Don’t you think you’ve denied me your affections long enough?”
“I can share my affections with you but this is a bit…,” he mumbles, his cheeks red and you cup his cheeks.
Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss against his lips before telling him, “If this is too hasty for you, I am willing to wait. I love you.”
The expression on his face is barely visible to you through the little moonlight that shines into your room. It’s one you haven’t seen on him before and you don’t get to decipher it for long before he moves forward to kiss you once more.
This time, he dives in to taste you, his tongue exploring yours as you engage in a heated kiss. His body presses into yours and you don’t know when it is that your back meets the futon underneath you but you don’t care enough to spend another second wondering about it.
Traveling lower, his lips find your jaw, then your throat, and your collarbone right after. The trail of kisses he leaves is hot against your skin and you find yourself feeling entirely too warm in your intricate kimono. Relief floods you when you feel his hands settle on your obi and your own hands move to help him out with the complicated bow.
Once the bow is untied and the belt is discarded, his hands move to glide over your shoulders, parting the fabric from your skin.
To his chagrin, his palms slide over another layer of fabric. A frustrated sound leaves him and you huff, amused by his antics. “Please tell me there aren’t any more layers to this. I wasn’t aware that my wife’s real identity was that of an onion.”
“Your wife likes to stay atop the latest fashion trends. There is no way I’d compromise my comfort and wear a kosode on top of my hadajuban. I’d be sweating way too much,” you explain, slipping your arms out of the fabric of your kimono and letting it fall down around you.
You could clean it later.
“Unfortunately, I think you’ll be working up a sweat regardless,” Shion teases as his hands work to untie your inner robes with such dexterity that it almost makes you feel impressed.
Your hands move to rid him of his robes and once the both of you are entirely bare, with no fabric between you to separate your bodies, you feel shyness creep up inside you. Hesitantly, your hand reaches out to brush over his chest and the way he shudders causes your touch to be firmer - more explorative and sure in its approach.
Your other hand moves to settle on his shoulder as he kneels between your legs and he allows you to acquaint yourself with his body. His own hands are resting on your thighs, balled into fists.
“You can touch me too,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss him for a short moment, feeling as if your chest would burst if you didn’t release all of this pent-up affection. Moving your hands to his, your fingers gently uncurl his fingers from their firsts, leading them to your waist. They settle on your naked skin and he shudders visibly. A soft laugh leaves you.
An embarrassed smile finds its place on his lips and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “I am sorry but now that I get to touch you, it feels a little overwhelming,” comes his soft explanation and you smile.
Your breath gets caught in your throat when his hands slide over the curves of your waist, tracing your skin up to your chest. Carefully, his thumbs brush over your nipples, circling the sensitive nubs until they perk up under his attention. The rise of his chest speaks for his delightment and he leans lower, still hovering over you but moving lower to take your nipple into his mouth.
It’s an unfamiliar sensation, different compared to your touch. His mouth is hot, his tongue wet and soft when it licks over and around your nipple before there’s a slight sucking sensation. It sends a hot tingle down your stomach and you gasp softly, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder while the other settles on the back of his head.
Strands of silver slip between your fingers and you tug gently while his lips leave your chest, the cool air of the room brushing against your wet nipple and sending a shudder through your body. You think you can feel him smiling against your tummy as he works his way lower, down to your pelvis.
His hands are gentle as they explore your curves. Sliding along your hips before grabbing a hold of your thighs, squeezing to feel your flesh between his fingers. You wonder how all of this feels for him.
Settling on his knees between your legs, he leans back over you. Meeting him halfway, you lean up to kiss him again. The initial eagerness has died out and what you are left with is a warm simmer between your legs. One of his hands slides between your thighs, his fingers exploring eagerly. A soft gasp tears itself free from your lips and Shion asks, in a whisper, if you are alright with what he is doing.
You nod and pull him a little closer until his lips rest against your collarbone once more. His breath is heavy as he slides his fingers over your folds, cupping your mound before dipping between your lips. There’s a stutter in his breathing once he gathers some of your wetness.
A smile tugs on your lips. “What? Surprised?” you tease, moving your hips a little so that his fingers glide back and forth between your folds. He follows your motions, thankful for the bit of guidance you seem to be offering.
“Just new to this,” he murmurs, playfully nipping at your throat. “It’s a little difficult to really get a feeling for it unless you indulge in the real thing. The few drunken words of others can only provide so much information.”
Your soft laugh reaches his ears and he moves upwards until his lips meet yours once more. “So you’ve been receiving private lessons, hm?” you tease and he chuckles, his thumb finding your clit and circling the swollen nub slowly, applying gentle pressure. Meanwhile, two of his fingers dip between your folds, finding you unbearably warm and wet for him as he slides them in and then out again steadily.
The soft gasp that leaves you sends a tingling sensation up Shion’s spine and he gulps.
“They were rather unpleasant lessons, although the knowledge I have gained seems to be proving useful,” your husband shoots back with more wit than you wish he’d have right now.
A little impatient, despite your desire to take your time, your hand moves to wander across his chest, tracing the defined lines of his abs. The muscles move under your fingertips, taut and firm as you continue lower until you reach his cock.
The way your husband bucks his hips into your touch and the way his breath hitches in his throat when your fingers wrap around him diffuses your anxieties. He has half the heart to tell you that you don’t have to touch him, that this is about you but you manage to chase all of those thoughts out of his mind once you begin to stroke him.
A little too slow for his liking and a little too gentle. Even so, he doesn’t stop you or complain. His hand wraps around yours and he squeezes it gently. “A little more firmly,” he tells you and his words are so airy that it knocks the wind out of you. All you manage is a slow nod as you follow his instructions, picking up on how he seems to like it. His hands rest on your hips, one of them still wet with your desire.
You wonder if he’d touch himself like this when thinking of you - if his breath felt as hot against his pillow as it does on your skin, and if his thighs trembled ever so slightly, just as they do now.
Tugging on your wrists, he coaxes you to let go of him. Reluctantly, you follow along, immediately missing the weight of him in your hands. Was it that unpleasant for him?
As if he’s read your mind, he presses a kiss against your temple and explains, “I want you to feel good too.” Breathing out softly, you shake your head. You were ready to protest but how could you, when he says something like that?
Shifting on top of you, he moves his lips lower along your body but you stop him in this endeavor, cupping his cheeks as you pull him back up to kiss you once more. “Please,” his voice comes in such a deep, parched tone that seems to rumble inside his chest; you find it hard to focus on what he is saying. “Let me have a taste.”
And as much as you want to give in - the fantasy of his lips caressing places you wouldn’t dare ask him to kiss making you feel a heat unlike anything else - you simply wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him right where he is.
“There will be time for that later,” you tell him, and the way he swallows at that, the movement of his adam’s apple faintly visible under the light that the moon provides, tugs on the corners of your lips and makes you pull him a little closer.
“You’re terrible,” Shion mumbles, his lips finding their home on your face, over and over again, wandering from your cheek to your temple, and then up to your forehead, “Have I not waited long enough?”
Pushing his hips right up against yours, you shudder at the warm weight of his cock that settles on top of your tummy. “I think there are more pressing matters,” you argue, shifting to change the angle of your hips. A soft sigh falls from your lips when he pulls back a little before sliding back, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth over your clit as he slides it through your folds.
His chest is pressed against yours, the weight on top of you comfortable as it presses you deeper into the sheets. Warm lips find yours once more and you have lost count of how many kisses you have shared tonight. It doesn’t matter since there will be too many to count soon anyway. You’d make sure of that.
When he finally sinks into you, it’s not as violent of a sensation as you expected it to be. Not as harsh and unrelenting as the women in your life would whisper when the men were gone.
It’s warm, almost unendurably so and yet, you wish to cling onto this warmth. The stretch isn’t painful - a bit uncomfortable at most. You’re more focused on how he feels inside you and how you find it difficult to tell which heartbeat belongs to you, his heart thrumming in his chest that is right up against yours.
Bottoming out inside you, Shion lets out a soft groan. His forehead meets yours and your breaths intermingle. “I love you,” he sighs, relieved to finally be able to say it freely and you smile up at him fondly, cupping his cheeks.
“I love you,” comes your echo to his confession before your back arches and you push up against him more when he finally moves. The drag of his length inside you burns in a way which your fingers could never hope to replicate and your toes flex, your heels arching off the futon.
A choked sound of Shion’s has your head tipping back, your eyes fluttering shut at how good and right he feels buried inside you. Your eyes burn behind your eyelids and you’re only aware of the tears that escape the corners of your eyes when Shion kisses them away.
“Are you hurting? Should we stop?” he asks, his tone ever so gentle but it’s a little strained and you think you see his cheeks flushed with such a beautiful color that you make a mental note to explore this particular hue in the morning hours, accompanied by the light of the morning sun.
The shake of your head is immediate and you whisper a soft “No”. Putting your hand on top of his that is cupping your cheek, you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm and you get to watch as the firm, upright man on top of you melts, his expression twisting into one that you finally understand.
A suppressed chuckle leaves you in the form of a shaky breath and it’s wobbly as your lips tremble. “Feels good,” is all you manage to speak and he smiles down at you fondly, prompting you to return his smile. Your cheeks hurt.
The need for conversation subsides as he begins to rock his hips into yours again, pushing himself deeper with each thrust. Your thighs begin to tremble when one of his hands slips between your bodies to find your clit, circling it once more with his thumb to help push you over the edge.
Moans, heavy breathing, and the sounds of his skin meeting yours over and over again fill the room, echoing inside your four walls in a way that would usually make your ears burn with shame. Right now, you’re freed from any sort of feeling of that sort.
Your nails dig into his back, pulling him closer as his hips move insistently and his lips lavish your throat with soft bites that he caresses with his tongue to soothe the pain. All it takes is a particular grind of his hips and his name leaves you as a choked sound, your vision turning white as you close your eyes.
It feels like all the air leaves your lungs and you feel dizzy, your walls pulsing around his shaft as your body trembles in his hold, the soft tremors continuing until he removes his thumb from you and stops the onslaught of his mouth on your body. Shaky breaths are all that leave your lips for a few moments as you finally fill your lungs greedily.
Forehead bumping against his shoulder, you keep Shion close, the quick rhythmic up and down of his chest soothing your quivering body. The man above you is breathing heavily, way more out of breath than he’d be after one of those training sessions you were allowed to watch.
A breathless chuckle leaves him as he presses a little closer and it is only then, when you feel the wet sensation between your thighs that drips down your folds and onto the sheets, accompanied by a squelching sound that shoots heat into your cheeks, that you realize he has spilled himself inside you.
“You are beautiful,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks with a tenderness that has never before been yours to claim from anyone. The way the folds around his eyes join in on his expression of joy as his cheeks push up against them while he smiles has you feeling a warmth that you wish to never miss again.
Blurry is your vision as you watch him pull out of you, making do by wiping the excess of your combined essence with the corner of his futon’s cover, before he lays down next to you. Your sniffling reaches his ears and he laughs joyfully, pulling you closer. “Cry as much as you wish to. I will be right here to wipe your tears,” he promises, chasing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Although I do prefer you smiling and laughing.”
Wrapping your arms around him, you move as close as possible, resting your head against his chest. It’s quiet for a while; comfortable. Your breath evens out and you relax against him as his fingers trace shapes into the skin of your back. You’re too tired to decipher what kind of shapes they are.
After a while, you speak up and laugh softly at the way Shion startles ever so slightly. He must have thought you were already asleep.
“Does this mean I can come to your room and read to you again?” you ask mischievously, looking up at him with an unbearably cheesy smile pulling on your lips. You’re glad he can’t see it.
Shion smiles down at you warmly before pressing his lips against your forehead. Lingering there, he whispers,
“You may read to me in our room. Every single evening, for as long as you wish to stay with me. Every poem or story that piques your interest.”
“For as long as I wish to stay?” you ask teasingly, shifting to press your lips against his jaw. “That is going to be a long time.”
“It could never be long enough.”
A few months later it’s still warm, despite the late hour.
Too warm to stay inside, which is why you are sitting outside on the engawa, humming softly as you try not to spill the juicy goodness of your fruits onto your yukata.
“Don’t eat too quickly or you might not be able to sleep.”
Tilting your head back, you look up to see your husband hovering over you as he stands right behind you. There’s a teasing smile on his lips and the light of the setting sun illuminates his skin nicely. He looks warm.
“Oh, come on now. I am not eating that quickly,” you shoot back, opening up another plum to remove its stone, just to throw it into one of the bushes. A product of nature returning to nature. No harm done.
He chuckles, sitting down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Couldn’t find any shut-eye inside? I could give you a few tips.”
You snort inelegantly.
“It’s too stuffy and warm inside the house,” you explain, munching away on your plums. Resting one hand on the wood of the engawa, you lean back onto it. Autumn is around the corner but it’s still very warm. The ongoing heat rewards you with sweet plums so it’s a little easier to forgive the weather for now.
“You know, when I was a child I used to steal plums from my father’s trees.”
Shion tilts his head at you in a way that compels you to reach out and pinch his cheek but you hold back. “I know,” and the smile he gives you with that reply tugs your expression into one of cautious confusion.
“Did I tell you about that before?” comes your question, which your husband denies with a shake of his head. He holds a hand out to you, palm facing up. Removing the stone from a plum, you hand it to him.
“I got to eat them as well,” he explains and you look at him for a few moments, your gaze tracing the scars on his face and the way he eats the plum. Brows furrowing, he sticks out his tongue and mumbles that it’s sour and it is only then that you finally realize.
Putting your head in your hands you laugh, dumbstruck. Shion raises a brow at you, feeling a little anxious about how you’re feeling. While he did poke fun at you just now, he’s not sure if it’s all that funny to you. Maybe you’d feel differently about him now, or perhaps you’d-
“It’s not sour,” you tell him and he laughs at how you sound as if he knocked the wind out of you with one simple statement. Your shoulder bumps into his as you lean closer, grabbing a hold of his hand that rests on his lap. He intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hands up to his lips to press a soft kiss against your fingertips.
“You’re right. It’s sweet.”
NOTES:
Tenugui - a type of traditional Japanese towel
Hadajuban - traditional sort of underwearn, worn underneath kimono
Kosode - the direct predecessor of the kimono, short sleeved and worn underneath intricate kimono in some places when the switch from kosode to kimono happened
Engawa - A wooden terrace
—
The first poem is by Ariwara no Narihira, taken out of the KOKINSHŪ.
Frog poem is by Matsuo Bashō
“蛙 (kawazu) - Frog can also be read as (kaeru) which can be translated as “to return”, meaning that Shion was joking here about himself being the pond and the reader being the frog. She returned to him after their initial meeting
The story the reader reads to Shion is “The Narrow Road to the Deep North” written by Matsuo Bashō.
The poem where Shion is getting ready for the festival is by Ariwara no Yukihira from Hyakunin Isshu: Poem 16.
: ̗̀➛ GETTIN' HOT & STEAMY HERE ! phainon, mydei, anaxagoras, dan heng, caelus / gn! reader
it's the norm in okhema to take baths with your peers. growing closer through the intimacies of pure bodies or whatever... does that mean they're not gonna stare? of course not! not when you looks so delicious dripping wet, and especially not when they just really, really like you.
( caelus is the only open pervert; if you think about mydei is also an open pervert here, but it's not exactly perverted; oh a non-yan fic? cute— yESTER?!; chest is referred to as tits by caelus; d1ck is not explicitly said here but it should be painfully obvious in phainons part; accidental groping; some attempts at comedy; suggestive; tagging it as smut bc it's suggestive, not actual smut [if anyone knows a better tag lmk]; anaxagoras was rushed i JUST realized i didnt write his part )
⤻ CAELUS
Woah. Tits.
Caelus reaches out and takes a long sip from the glass of ambrosia he’s been served in the bath, not even trying to hide his shamelessly probing eyes. Like always, he had entered the baths without much grace and poise, only hoping to ease Dan Heng’s nagging about his hygiene. After cannonballing into the bath, it was only a surprised yelp that made him realize that another person— you, staring wide-eyed and red at him— was in the bath with him.
Tactless as he is, he waved hello to you and made himself welcome. You could only sigh and relent.
But you didn’t take the stoic trailblazer to be a shameless pervert. Admittedly, his stare is different from the normal old perverts, looking at your chest with blank eyes instead of those lustful ones. Still, staring is staring, and you pout at him and sink into the waters to hide your body. “You’re staring too much!” You snap at him. You hope the bath waters hide your red face.
“You’re staring at me too,” he replies, blunt as ever. Not even a hint of smugness. Just simply stating the facts like he always does. “We’re staring at each other.” He makes an OK sign with both hands. “Win-win.”
“Not win-win!” You huff. “You’re not even trying to hide it!”
Now he smiles, flipping his gray hair extravagantly and letting out a haughty ‘ha-ha!’. “The Galactic Baseballer needs not hide their desires. Whatever they want, they take. For that is the way of the Trailblaze, and most importantly, the way of the— ooghf.” You throw a towel his way and send him under the water. What the hell did you expect from this idiot?
He resurfaces with a dramatic gasp of air, before shaking his hair and getting the droplets everywhere like a dog. He’s back to staring, head halfway in the water as he inches closer and closer to you. You give him a deadpan look and whack his head with the towel again, but he’s now unswayed by the barrage of attacks. The two of you continue this for a while, until Caelus is now head to… chest with you. He is silent, as if contemplating something, before his big ass mouth opens.
“Can I hold ‘em?”
You whack him. “In your dreams.”
He sighs dramatically, flopping into the bath waters and floating miserably. “But I like tits,” he whines. “I like your tits.”
“I hope that Stellaron inside you explodes.”
⤻ PHAINON.
He really shouldn’t be taking advantage of your trust, not when you so willingly invited him to bathe together. And yet he can’t help sneaking glances at your dripping figure every now and then, hoping that the steam would somewhat hide his perverse intentions.
“Phainon?” Your sweet voice calls out to him, and he startles. He looks at you, beet-red, and you cock your head. “Oh, poor thing. Is the bath getting to you? You’re all red!” You reach out a hand to feel his forehead, but he instinctively jolts away from your touch, like a sinner afraid to taint the sister. Your body is now noticeably closer, and Phainon doesn’t want to know if that new heat he’s feeling is from the water, your body, or a psychological defect.
“I’m okay, really,” he reassures you, smiling awkwardly all the while. “Probably just the steam, but I’ve handled hotter with Mydei.” He shoots you a grin, but you don’t seem to buy it.
“You sure?” You press. He thinks the way your brows scrunch and those eyes turned downward in worry is so cute, but he has to suppress that urge to bring you into a cuteness-aggression-induced hug and look away. He reassures you again, this time more mumbled and half-hearted, sinking into the water as if to baptize himself anew. You look at his strange behavior worriedly. “I’m not… I’m not being a bother, am I?”
He shoots out of the water, making you yelp when he gets water all over you. “Not at all!” He near-shouts in your face. His muscled hands, carved and sculpted like fine marble, have grabbed you by the shoulders. His wide blue eyes look at you in both disbelief and panic. “You could never— I would never think—! You’re– You’re not a bother at all!”
“O-Oh,” you squeak, taken aback by his eruption and by… something. “Th– That’s a relief, then…!”
Phainon continues rambling. “In fact, you couldn’t believe how ecstatic I was when you invited me into the bath. I mean, I know that sounds wrong, but I’ve been wanting to get closer to you, and I thought this was finally my chance! And I know this sounds so bizarre, but I really, really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and the rest of the Chrysos Heirs and—”
“Phainon…!”
“ — And I know Mydei, and I take up your time cleaning up after us ‘cause we’re both stupid, but you have no idea how happy it makes me knowing you’re there to look after us. It’s not like I want you to babysit us or anything, but the thought of someone caring for us is just nice, you know? So I really wanted to take the time to thank you, but you’ve been making me so flustered that I—”
“Ph– Phainon!”
You seem to startle him back to his senses, and he blinks down at you. It was only then that he realized the softness of your tender skin cupped in both of his palms, and he stumbled back, murmuring apologies for hurting you. That doesn’t seem to be the problem, not when you cover your blushing face with your newly freed arms. He looks down at you in confusion… before he realizes the very problem hanging out right in front of you both. And chubbing up… slowly, in front of your face. Now thoroughly mortified, he plops back down in the bath with the same beet-red face from before.
Silence ensues. Only the monotonous rush of water and the deafening stillness could be heard. “I– I’m sorry,” he mutters. Maybe if he proves how genuine he is, you won’t call HR on him.
“D– Don’t be,” you mumble back. You curl a strand of wet hair around your finger, absentmindedly playing with it as you try to look everywhere but him. The glistening droplets shine like dew on your skin, and the steam frames you like a halo, and so even in the face of his depravity, you still seem like a cherub more than anything. You offer him a crooked grin.
⤻ MYDEI
The nakedness of the bare flesh isn’t something that can move the Prince of Castrum Kremnos. He’s had men and women slip into his chambers, try to tempt him by stripping themselves of their flimsy chitons, and receive nothing but a cold lookover from him. During his days as a wandering general, he had followers dropping themselves at his feet just to have a chance to carry his heir. Nothing.
Looking at you now, skin supple and tender from the heat of the baths, he feels something carnal stirring within him. He’s no prude; he knows this feeling, but frustration seems to also cloud his thoughts as you lounge across him with a lazy grin.
“Don’t you think you’re staring too much, your Highness?” You tease. Your back is arched in a way that can only be intended to seduce, naked chest covered with only a thin layer of steam. “Keep doing that, and I’ll tell your people what a perv their future King is.”
He won’t let himself be goaded by such cheap teasing. He scoffs and mirrors your languid posture, looking kingly and regal in these baths. “If a cup of wine is presented before me, should I not partake in its sweetness? Don’t try to act the fool; it’s not very befitting.”
“Wise and responsible rulers know not to inebriate themselves in front of their people.”
“A good thing that there’s only you and me in these waters, then,” he hums. He crooks his finger at you. “Come hither, you tempter. If you plan on acting like a harlot, you might as well do it where I can properly see you.”
You know challenging the prince would be no easy task, but you didn’t think that he would use your own brazenness against you. At the open provocation, you find yourself wanting to cover up your body and sink beneath the water. To hide where his gaze does not touch. But you can’t bring yourself to disobey the demands of royalty, so you slowly wade your way to his side.
He swipes the strand of hair sticking to your forehead, smirking when you try not to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?” His huffed laugh, rare yet warm, sends something warm through your body. “Not so cheeky now, are we?”
You pout. You want to act coy, try to act coy— it’s too soon to concede defeat— but you feel like you’re failing when you shudder at his touch. “Anyone would be embarrassed when someone stares at them the way you do,” you huff. “You trying to burn a hole through me?”
“I’m not such a brute that I don’t know how to enjoy the luxuries of life.” From your cheekbones to your collarbone, every teasing touch is poised to further edge you on. His Highness seems to enjoy having the tables turned on you as he watches you squirm, rough hand clamped around your plush waist to ensure your entrapment. “In case you forgot, you’re the one who offered yourself up to me.”
⤻ DAN HENG
For the most part, Dan Heng is doing a pretty good job of composing himself. You thought that he’d sneak some glances or not look at all, but Dan Heng holds a conversation with you normally, like you’re not naked under all this steam and water. You grumble and kick water his way.
Startled from his tranquil relaxation, Dan Heng stares at you questioningly. You kick another wave in his face. In response, he clasps both hands and expertly squirts water in your face. You cough and splutter. “What’s gotten into you?” He asks, watching you recover from the attack. “Why’re you suddenly angry?”
You sigh like the lead heroine in dramas, posed dramatically on their bed as they’re about to announce their life-threatening illness. “Do you think I’m attractive, Dan Heng? Do you think my body is not something to be ogled at?”
He raises a brow. “I do, yes.” You stare at him expectantly, but he adds nothing else and instead doubles down on the quizzical look. “What exactly do you want to hear?”
You double down on the glare. “I want to know why the hell you’re not looking at me!”
“Looking at what?”
The quick response has you opening and closing your mouth like a fish, before you settle down and purse your lips together. Looking at what, this hot and sexy dragon says from across you. Like he doesn’t know how to deal with pining love interests. You’ll show him. Without a warning, you scoot over to his side of the baths as elegantly as one can scoot, feigning nonchalance as his eyes follow you.
“What are you doing?” He says, once you’ve made yourself comfortable.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
He hums. Huh, he’s actually thinking about it. You sigh in frustration when he takes an absurdly long time to answer only to shrug at you. You swear, you’re gonna kill this dude. “You’re hopeless, Imbibitor Lunae,” you grump. In a bold move driven by impatience and frustration, you take his arm and let it drape over your shoulder. You sigh in satisfaction and take a peek at him. His expression is frozen.
“...? Dan Heng? Dan Heeeeng.” You poke his cheek. You tilt your head when you elicit no reaction from him. “What? Is this some prank or something? Cut it out.”
“N– No,” he coughs and looks away from you, the tips of his ear burning red. “I, er, I think I should be getting out—”
“Nooo way, mister!” You pout. “All this seducing and then you suddenly bail on me without letting me know why? What’s up, what did I…” His biceps around you, then his fingers, flinch as you move your body again. Then you feel it— the brush of rough fingers against your… your…
Your face looks like it’s about to explode with how red you’re getting. Dan Heng is staring at his own hands in shock, as if in disbelief of what he has just done. He quickly pulls away, flexing his fingers in a disastrous attempt to not replicate the feeling of your chest in his hand. To his chagrin, they do another cupping motion as if they could still feel the supple flesh around them. He chokes and hopes you don’t see it. He sees your eyes focusing on his hand and he quickly submerges himself in the hot spring’s waters in some attempt to boil the impure thoughts out of his mind.
You wait for a few moments. Nothing comes back up except for a few bubbles.
“Dan Heng? Dan Heng?! You’re going to drown like that!”
⤻ ANAXAGORAS
“Um, professor…?” Your meek voice echoes around the limestone walls, making you keenly aware of your shared solitude with the green-haired blasphemer across you. The steam barely covers your half not submerged by water, and you wonder if it’s the embarrassment or the heat that’s making you flush. “You’re, uh… Is there a problem…?”
Anaxagoras remains unmoved, sole eye still fixated on the spillage of your chest. It’s a playful thing, fluidly moving with your every squirm. There are times when very sliiightly he can see your areola peeking out from the water, only for it to hide back in the water again. His gaze seems to unknowingly harden every time it does that, but you don’t know that he’s taking a peek at your chest nor does he know what expression he has. In the end, all this makes you feel like you’re getting ready for an oral examination with the professor.
Another call of his name finally has him snapped out from his tit-induced stupor, and he schools his expression into his normal stoic one as he finally heeds you. “You’re awfully self-conscious for someone who barged into my baths. If the baths do anything other than its intended effect of relaxation, mayhaps I suggest you to do yourself a favor and leave?”
“Uh, no, I– I like it here,” you squeak out, flailing your arms in a meager attempt to show that you’re relaxed. “I’m relaxed! Yes! And…” A shy, sweet smile graces your lips when you avert your gaze from him. “I– I’m happy to be sharing the baths with my favorite professor…! I always wanted to get closer to you, so…”
The sentiment should be touching, really. But that pretty expression on his favorite students face rouses something else aside from his emotions.
As the conversation drifts back to silence, the sound of something heavy dropping ruins the peaceful atmosphere of the Okhema baths. Easily surprised as you are, you jolt up with a squeak, head frantically turning right to left as you try to find the disturbance. A sheepish sorry calls out from another bath down the hall and that makes you momentarily relax, until you turn around and—
“Oh my,” Anaxa coolly comments, doing nothing to hide the way his gaze snakes down from your chest down to the rest of your body. You let out a mortified cry as you quickly drop down to the floor, splashing the warm water all over your professor. You open your mouth as your mind scrambles to form out an apology, but Anaxagoras breaks your thoughts as he leans back with an amused look.
“As much as I hate to frequent Okhema, much less its baths, I may have to consider visiting regularly if all my baths put on a show as entertaining as yours,” he says, finally meeting your gaze for the first time since you entered that bath. “Did you come here seeking for extra credit from your professor?”
“No, no, no!” You frantically shake your head as you try to reestablish your good reputation and dignity. “I didn’t—! I walked here on accident! I didn’t, I wasn’t even— oh my Titans— professor, I’m not seeking anything. I– I can leave if you want!”
“Oh, please do,” he says, gesturing to the towel that you’ve left far from your current reach. His sole eye glimmers with the same crude amusement dancing on his lips. “If you’re looking for another extra credit, by all means, leave this bath.”
ramshackle's finally turned into a heap of rubble. you saw that one coming a long time ago. what you didn't see is the harem of unsavory magicians trying to keep you confined within their dorms. ( <- prev | intermission | next -> )
( ace talks a lot bc hes the most jackass of the first yr club; slutshaming; dirty jokes; masturb4tion mention; it's literally just sebek criticizing everyone; jack talks the least in the gc bc hes also not a jackass ✌ protective yans my love; just an intermission, can be skipped; first yr centric; sebek's pov)
SEBEK ZIGVOLT is a man who prioritizes duty above all else. He has his duty to Malleus, to be the protecter of the Valley of Thorns’ future king. He has his duty to his parents and grandfather, to make them proud as a student of Night Raven College. He has his duty to himself, to be the very best version he can be with due diligence.
He has no duty to you.
It’s laughable truly, to even consider a mere human worthy of his fealty! And a magickless one at that, lugging around a tasteless and brazen beast leeching off your hard work. You might as well be a carpet, with how you just let everyone walk all over you. Exactly. Yes, yes! That’s what you are! A carpet that happened to be… everyone’s favorite carpet… including his young lord’s. Hm. Aggravating.
Ping!
Whatever that buzz in his pocket entailed, he ignored it in favor of getting lost in his thoughts. Ping! Clearly, you might not be as magickless as you claim. Perhaps you had some enchantment placed on you, with how you drew men to your side like it was nothing. Ping! Sebek had once assumed that you were at least aware of this enchantment, but with how miserable you were with anything magic-related, he quickly waved the thought away. Ping! Someone else, then. But what for? All it did was bring you misery, but surely there are other better ways to curse someone…
“BE QUIET!” He roars as he whips out his phone, scaring the people near him as he glares down at the screen. It was that inspid group chat again, the name “DRACONIA FAN CLUB 🐲🐲🐲” scrawled across the top in a futile attempt to pique his interest. He had tried numerous times to change the name, but that Trappolla was the admin and refused to give him any privileges.
furry (JACK HOWL): can you stop adding me back in
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): can you stop acting high n mighty
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): ooohh look at me im jack howl. im big n buff and i workout and i try to act all chivalrous when in reality im a DIRTY FUCKING PERVERT just like the rest of us but im too far up my ass to admit that i wanna put my dick in them
JACK HOWL left the group chat.
ACE TRAPPOLA added JACK HOWL to the group chat.
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): nuh uh
What did he expect? Of course it was Trappola up to his shenanigans. Sebek had also tried to leave the group chat many times before, but Ace was so adamant on keeping him there that he decided that putting the group on mute was a better use of his time than trying to push the point. Just as Sebek was about to put his phone away and head to the library, another grating ping came from the group chat.
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): [image attached]
EPEL FELMIER took a screenshot.
DEUCE SPADE took a screenshot.
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): AHAHHAHA desperate weirdos
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): shut the hell up u took those
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): actually 🤓 i got them from cater. saw him slacking off painting the roses so i got him to give me some pics of his playdate with [y. name]. he was pretty mad about it tho lololol
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): i dont think bargaining with cater is a good idea…
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): wtvr…
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): cmon cmon @/Jack Howl @/racist …. i know you want a screenshot.. cmon…
The image attached was a picture of the prefect, tears welling up in their eyes as they nurse a bruise on their cheek. It was clear that they were forced to hold up a peace sign by whoever was behind the camera, their oversized sleeping shirt dipping from their shoulder to expose their clavicle and the sliiighest hint of their chest. It was not a picture that Sebek was interested in, and he was sure that Jack Howl shared the same sentiments.
What was it with these humans and their overly sadistic tendencies? Trappola had made it their favorite hobby to torment the prefect both physically and mentally, Felmier liked to switch from sugary-sweet to downright devilish just to knock their guard down, and even Spade who tried to his best to become the prefect’s protector couldn’t hide his glee when they were vulnerable and in need of someone stronger. Howl, for all his beating around the bush, did not goof around when it came to the prefect’s safety. Sebek shook his head. Humans were truly the worst.
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): at LEAST i didnt get my ASS BEAT BY MY HOUSEWARDEN
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): fym you didnt get ur ass beat?!?! I KNOW HOUSEWARDEN VIL HAD SOMETHING FOR YOU. U DIDNT BRING [Y. NAME] WITH PERMISSION
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): and what YOU DID?
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): he actually did believe it or not
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): he went through all the rules and procidures so that housewarden riddle wouldn’t have any place to say no
racist (SEBEK ZIGVOLT): *PROCEDURES
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): *procedures
JACK HOWL: *procedures
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): *procedures
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): I FUCKING GET IT OK
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): *okay
Just as the entire group chat begins to blow up about how Sebek is online, he shoves the phone into his pocket and finally looks up— just in time to bump into the person who has been occupying his thoughts as of late.
“Ffngah! Henchman, are you okay?!” Sebek’s sturdy chest has you sprawled on the floor and your familiar is fussing over you as you try to get your bearings. The contents of your messenger back has been spilled, and Sebek lets out a frustrated long sigh before he bends down and picks them up.
“Human,” he starts, same scowl on his face as always. “It is absolutely irresponsible of you to inconvenience people like this in the hallway! You best look where you’re going!” He picks up the papers— for history you held high marks, but another paper with your magical alchemy after-report depicts an embarrassingly low grade. Disgraceful.
Grim leaps on his four feet, hissing at Sebek. “Whaddya mean ‘look where you’re going’?! My henchman’s been calling out to you since awhile ago before you decided to bump into them! This is all your fault, you stupid pompadour!”
Sebek’s eyes widen at the insult of his very carefully maintained hairstyle and opens his mouth to yell at the inspid cat, but your visibly tired face catches his mind and he composes himself. He’s no stranger to the absurd rumors around you— he’s even in a group chat of the perpetrators— and he decides to grant you some mercy. You are already overwhelmed as it is, and while that is no excuse to slack off on your responsibilities, even Sebek has to admit that your situation is far from ideal.
He forcibly pulls you up by the wrist with no grace whatsoever, but his hands are gentle when he smoothens out your hair and fixes your uniform. “You are a disgrace to look at, [Y. Name],” he bluntly states, stepping back to assess you. “I have heard that you stayed at a time in Pomefiore. Why is the condition of your skin severely lacking?”
“That’s because I’m staying in Ignihyde now,” you say, picking up Grim and giving Sebek a grateful smile. “Can’t sleep. Not with all that clicking and clacking and—” You visibly pale before shaking your head and feeling the lobe of your ear for something. “Sorry. Shall we go the cafeteria together?”
Unlike the others, Sebek has always noted how you don’t feel offput by his overbearing demeanor. Ever since the events of his young lord’s overblot, he has built a… rapport with the other first years. Nevertheless, they liked to complain of his tendencies. Absurd! When clearly he was the only one among them who knew how to hold himself in a dignified manner! At least you had the decency to heed his words. You smile thoughtfully when he tells you to straighten yourself, you listen attentively when he teaches you even with all his smug remarks, and when he tells you to go behind him, you do without a single peep. He would think that you enjoyed being nagged. But since you had the nerve to hang around his young lord, then you should at least have the humility to listen to his retainer!
Walking side-by-side with you, he feels his role of a protector more than ever. Even though he is one of the knights of Briar Valley’s next prince, he is keenly aware that his young lord’s power exceeds his own. You, however, lost and afraid and an alien… you could not even lift a finger against him if you tried. He thinks back to the picture sent by Ace in the group chat and shakes his head. The pathetic human is already pathetic. Why drive them further into their own misery?
“You should stay away from the others for a while,” he says, sounding more than a demand rather than a suggestion. “I am sure you are no fool, [Y. Name]. None of the other dorms act in your best interests. Until Ramshackle is restored, it is best you stay over in Diasomnia for your own sake.” You seem to eye him warily, but you soon shake whatever thoughts are forming in your head. “Master Lilia has voiced his thoughts last night over… ergh, dinner.” He had to brush his teeth for half an hour to get the taste out. “Young Lord and Silver are of the same sentiment.” He thumps his chest with his fist proudly, a smug look crossing his features. “Diasomnia will provide you with more hospitality than those other fools. After all, we conduct ourselves with actual dignity.”
This unfriendly sentiment earns looks of ire from the other dorm students as his voice booms down the hall.
“What’s that about dignity, Sebek?” From behind you, Ace clicks his tongue in annoyance. He’s glaring at the fae with hands on his hips, followed by the rest of the first-years.
“Yeah,” Deuce nods, cracking his knuckles with a dangerous look on his face. “You’re speaking real loud for a guy who’s about to go 1v4.”
“Hold on, I wasn’t agreeing to a fistfight, you fucking idiot.”
Epel and Jack sighs, moving forward to leave behind the bickering fools as your group enters the cafeteria. “You got a lot to say about hospitality, huh?” Epel leans forward to peer at Sebek’s face, sticking to your side as you all fall in line. “What could you possibly know? I think I did a good job with my hospitality.”
“Harassment, more like,” you snort, piling food on your tray every time Grim points out something. Epel elbows you in the hip and you jerk, but Sebek takes note of how you don’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. Jack, meanwhile, casts a disapproving frown towards Epel. The boy just shrugs and sticks to your side even more.
“Gotta take advantage,” Epel says out loud, increasing his volume for the newly-arrived duo. “If I gotta share my bed, I should at least get something out of it, right?” His smirk looks out of place on his angelic features. “I know I got something out of it. Or something out of you.” This time, you were the one to elbow Epel.
Ace peeks his face from out behind Jack’s towering build, eager to butt into the conversation. “Why’re you acting like you’re the only one who slept with—” Jack now elbows Ace.
Now, you look mildly uncomfortable. The conversation had attracted the attention of the people you were in line with, and Ace’s outburst continued to turn the gaze of others. You already knew about the rumors circulating about you— how easy you were, how much of a Jezebel you must be. You averted your gaze from one leering Ignihyde student, who squeaked when five boys glared him down with the same ferocity of a lion. Even Sebek felt the teeniest bit mortified for you.
“You’re too loud,” Sebek stiffly addressed the others. Jack looked miffed to be lumped with the others. The others looked similarly miffed to be called loud by Sebek of all people. “If you’re going to be indecent, do so in private.” You flash Sebek a grateful smile before heading to find yourselves a seat. The other boys took note of the bright blush tinging his cheeks before he followed you.
“Cheat,” Ace mumbled. Everyone except Jack nodded in agreement.
“You look tired, [Y. Name],” Deuce comments as soon as the group settles down on a table far from the other students. You seem to have caught on what would be the topic for the remainder of your lunch, so you decided to think ahead and save yourself the impending embarrassment. “Have you been sleeping much since Heartslabyul? You can always go back if you want.”
Jack scoffs. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t get much sleep either over there.” Deuce blushes pink before erasing whatever image he had brewing. Ace shoots a knowing grin his way.
He points a fork at the beastman, who guides it down and scolds him for the rude gesture. “You stole them away from me— er, us.” He amends his mistake when Deuce scowls at him. “Eager to play knight, huh?”
“I actually got some sleep over at Jack’s, by the way,” you chime in. Jack’s tail starts to rapidly wag. “Perhaps the most normal night this month.”
The conversation devolves into idle chatter, comparing the dorms you’ve stayed at and commenting on your hosts’ quirks. You carry yourself nonchalantly, as if you’re not describing being harrassed and being drugged. This amuses and delights both Ace and Epel, while Jack shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Deuce is currently squirming, desperately trying to stop himself from imagining how each night went. It is clear to everyone (except maybe Deuce) that you’re omitting some things, but only Ace has the audacity to push for more details.
“So what’s that pervy dormhead making you do, huh?” Ace leans in with an eager grin.. “Is he making you cosplay his anime waifus in his mancave? Hmm…?”
There it is again, you feeling the lobe of your ear for something that isn’t there. Sebek catches on as your eyes nervously flit everywhere, until your eyes catch his probing ones and you force yourself to settle down. “I’d rather be anywhere than in Ignihyde right now,” you say, voice the most seething he’s heard you. It also feels like a plea, as you throw him a glance before going back to your food.
“Then just leave,” Jack suggests, as if it were ever that simple. “Stay the night at the infirmary. Or you can come back to Savanaclaw.”
Ace. “You’re not fucking slick, Jack.”
“I tried, okay.” Brushing off the suggestion, you purse your lips. “But that cree– Idia is er, surprisingly insistent. Pushy. Forceful. Take your pick. Ortho won’t even let me step out of the mirror for classes unless he’s with me.” Everyone nods in understanding. After all, who could outrun an android that can laser beams out of his hands?
“At least Ortho’s taking good care of you,” Deuce tries to comfort you. You respond with a sardonic smile and choose to not comment any further.
“Poor Sebek can’t say anything~” Ace teases, pointing at him with alternate fingers. “Jealous? If you can manage to get Ortho outta the way, then it’s gonna be Diasomnia’s turn. You exci~iited? A sleepover with our pretty lil prefect~?”
“AS IF!” Sebek yells, shooting up to glare daggers down at the unfazed redhead. “IT IS UNCOURTLY TO SHARE A ROOM MUCH LESS A BED WITH YOUR—” He catches himself before he can say something he does not want to let slip. He calms himself and sits down, leveling everyone with mocking gaze. “I am not as beholden to beastly urges as you lot. [Y. Name] is to get the most hospitality in Diasomnia and have their own room. In fact, Master Lilia has already arranged for it. As for Ortho—” His face takes on a smug look. “He is not a match for Master Lilia. We will welcome [Y. Name] and Grim by morning light as soon as we finish up preparations.”
Epel furrows his brows, tilting his head as he thinks about something. “Hm… but doesn’t Lilia seem the type to…?”
Sebek feels the urge to yell at Epel for having such disgraceous thoughts about Lilia, but even he finds himself frowning as he considers the possibility. “Well… Master Lilia has his… quirks, but he is a great man nonetheless. A gentleman, even. I have the utmost faith that he will handle [Y. Name] with the manner befitting a host.”
Ace leans in to whisper in Epel’s ear. “Yeaaaah Lilia is up to no good.”
“YOU ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY, DON’T YOU?!”
You are comfortably more at ease during Sebek’s whole tirade, though some of the tension is still there. “Whatever the case, anywhere is better than Ignihyde right now.” Your gaze narrows slightly, your voice dropping to an angry whisper as if something heated had angrily grasped your chest. “Anywhere is better than here.”
Sebek and Jack exchange a glance, sensitive hearing having picked up on your heated words. They purse their lips and look away.
“Where are you going?” Epel calls out. You have abruptly stood up and taken your tray with you, barely even having touched your food. Grim is all too eager to finish the rest of them as you begin to walk. “You’ve barely even eaten…!”
“Going to Headmaster’s,” you say. You try to keep your tone light and airy, but your throat is still tight. “Don’t wait up for me. I’m not attending classes today to attend to the Headmaster’s task. See ya.”
Sebek lays in his bed, thinking about that look on your face this afternoon. You’ve always worn this passive mask, always placating the more temperamental mages with half-hearted assurances and forced smiles. It’s a mask that has clearly already been worn before.
He thinks about traversing dreams with you and Silver, that same look of bitterness as you played audience to the dreams of many. He had stood shoulder to shoulder, unwillingly watching the absurd dreams of these humans play out before you. Humans have always been ugly creatures, but they had this alarming ability to pretend that they weren’t. You were especially great at that, yet even you couldn’t reign in the jealousy from distorting your face.
He had never commented on it. There were bigger things at hand. He needed to save Young Master, Master Lilia was dying, Silver was the child of his land’s colonizers… But what could there possibly be jealous of? Were you so eager to lay your soul’s deepest desires bare just like the rest of them?
With a groan, he rolls over and buries his face into the pillow. Curse you! Restful sleep evades him yet again tonight, solely because you preoccupy his thoughts!
His phone buzzes and he hesitates for a second before reaching for it. It is not a good habit to use gadgets before you sleep, but his mind is too busy to sleep that he might as well use some of its energy on whatever nonsense the group chat has cooked up.
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): they whine so prettily as well
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): and they’re so soft… down there…
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): then they stare at you with those big eyes cuz they want you to stop… but it’s kinda hard to stop cuz theyre soo fucking cute
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): yeah im hard
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): oh my god he’s shuffling a lot do NOT JACK OFF NEXT TO ME
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): hard typing w one hand :/
JACK HOWL, EPEL FELMIER reacted 👎
DEUCE SPADE reacted 🤢
Abhorrent. How can one be so shameless with their lust? And in front of others as well? If one could see Sebek’s face right now, the disgust may leave such a lasting expression on them that you’d think he came across a defacement of his Young Master’s portrait.
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): i wish i could’ve slept with [y. name] 🙁
TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): 🍆🍆🍆
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): NOT LIKE THAT .. IM NOT ACE WTF
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): yeah hes worse
JACK HOWL, DEUCE SPADE, EPEL FELMIER reacted 👎
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): tf?
SEBEK ZIGVOLT reacted 👎
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): ???????
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): after ace threw us out seniors cater andd trey decided to take [y. name] for themselves… i never had the chance 😔 its so UNFAIR
SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): thems the brakes in nrc. you snooze, you lose
EPEL FELMIER, JACK HOWL reacted with 👍
Sleeping with the human…?
Sebek shuts off his phone and places it on the bedside, groaning to himself as his thoughts grow louder. It’s all that everyone talks about these days. He had heard Floyd bragging about it to Riddle in the library, his voice echoing through the shelves as he droned about what he had done to you. It was nothing short of harassment, and Riddle seemed to agree because he decided to furiously cast Off With Your Head on Floyd. But even Riddle had retorted about having you in his bedroom for a tea, talking about marriage talks that even had Floyd looking dangerous (if it weren’t for the collar around his neck).
Silver and Lilia even insisted on not bringing Malleus out to eat anywhere publicly as long as these rumors went around. The three of them knew all too well about his fondness for you, and that he’d surely strike down the rumormongers who liked to comment on what your performance could be like in bed. You must have been elated to have Ramshacle destroyed, they say, because now you have an excuse to whore yourself out as much as you wanted. Sebel had struck down a few students for saying that within his earshot. How much more Malleus?
Still. It vexes him how much one human— and a non-mage at that!— could stir up an entire school like you do. You liked to play the unassuming part, a supporting role as you set up the stage for the mages to take center. Not to say that you were unassuming. You are on the prettier side… but… Sebek hides his blush deeper into his pillow. The fact was! You were nothing special!
Nothing special, indeed…
class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): i wish i could’ve slept with [y. name] 🙁
He thinks back to Deuce’s message. To prostate themselves over a mere magickless… how humiliating for a student of Night Raven College! What was there to wish for! To have your body nestled next to his, sharing your warmth as you shielded yourselves from Diasomnia’s cold? To have your fingers clasped around his sword-calloused hands, comforting yourself as you experience a nightmare? To open your eyes and see Sebek, relief flooding you as you know that there will at least be one man in this world who wouldn’t hurt you? To press your lips on his forehead, then on his cheek, then to his cold lips? To have your lips sweetly say the words he’s been…
Sebek shoots up, absolutely mortified at these dangerous thoughts. Sebek Zigvolt! A trained warrior from birth, heir to the noble and dignified Zigvolt line! How could he let his thoughts fall to depravity! For his temptations to succumb to one (albeit pretty-looking) human! He shakes his head as if trying to loosen all the blockage from his brain, massaging his aching temples. Tomorrow dawn, he will swing his sword a thousand times to atone for this weakness!
But tonight, he pouts to himself and squeezes his eye shut, traitorous mind wandering off to when he might see you within the halls of Diasomnia again.
a/n ! im gonna be real w u idk what i was going for either... i wanted something that would be an insight into what mc was going through... but rather it seemed to be an insight on a perverted gc and a more (normal) sebek [hes gonna have his yandere moments in his section dont worry]. i was hoping to use sebek to provide a more normal perspective on whats going on... but hmmm :/// also jack doesnt talk in the last gc convo bc its way past his bedtime and hes sleepy lol. i think rushed thru this intermission too much. ill take my time and perfect the diasomnia one! promise!
– Summary: Trey Clover's relationships with other characters.
– Note: Direct from my notes for my Empyrean series.
This will not immediately contain all of the characters, as this series is still a work in progress. These are all opinions held before the start of the story!
TREY CLOVER & ACE TRAPPOLA
Thinks he is merely a misguided youngster, but after Riddle’s punishment, Ace seems a little different yet Trey can’t place his finger on it
Pities him, and doesn’t think he’s doing anything particularly dangerous or harmful
“Part of me can’t help but worry how immortality is going to affect that human. They’re not meant to last as long as us, and given how long ago they got caught, well… their immediate family and friends are probably gone. There’s something else though, something off about him. It’s like he’s not even afraid of Riddle.”
TREY CLOVER & DEUCE SPADE
Similarly to Ace, Trey believes this is another misguided mortal. And, like Ace, his presence feels different too
Allowed him and a few others to sneak out to avoid an unnecessary death
“This is another human turned immortal. They’re the first of their kind, so they’re going to have a rough time. Especially him. The bad thing about immortality is that we see mortals come and go. And Deuce? He’ll have to get used to it, especially since he can’t even die if he wanted to.”
TREY CLOVER & CATER DIAMOND
Knew Cater during the age of chaos before Riddle’s reign
Often spent time together, talking of the future as they both didn’t appreciate so much chaos and wildness
As Riddle’s reign began and grew harsher, they both silently agreed to spare those innocent they could
“Cater has always been so social. It only made sense that he became popular the instant he got to Heartslabyul. He was a huge help when we were tasked with reaching out to the other archons on behalf of Riddle. I know he’s reliable, but he always surprises me with how he manages to skirt around his responsibilities.”
TREY CLOVER & RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
One of the very first beings Riddle ever met, they grow close along with another mysterious deity during the age of chaos
Helps Riddle eventually come to power, but sometimes he wishes he would have did some things differently to prevent such a harsh reign
Doesn’t know how to stop Riddle or change things now, not after the chaos and anarchy they both experienced and knowing Riddle is just trying to prevent it from happening again
“I can’t imagine how hard things have been for him… I thought being worshipped was a lot to shoulder, but I had time to adjust to it. He didn’t. It happened so quickly for him. Being venerated with no warning or time to prepare, then becoming archon. In Riddle’s eyes, he’s just doing what his first followers said was right.”
TREY CLOVER & JACK HOWL
He’s seen him briefly. Trey gets the feeling this new captain could be great
“Jack Howl, hm…? I’ve met him once. Riddle seems to think he’s a good guard and Cater fawned a bit over him. Jack seemed like he couldn’t care less about the attention, but he seemed proud when he heard the Pyro Archon’s praise. I can see why he was chosen for the role of Captain.”
TREY CLOVER & RUGGIE BUCCHI
He’s heard Cater complain about this new emerging nefarious leader in the neighboring nation
“He’s been thrust into his role unexpectedly, huh? I know he’s always caused trouble and even got some of our own to break laws, but… well, I can’t say he’s all that bad. The one time I did meet him, he brightened up the moment I offered him something to eat.”
TREY CLOVER & LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
He’s met the archon on occasion, usually when with Riddle. Although not often. It’s rare to meet someone older than him
“Thinking back on our last encounter, I think he wanted to see how my magic worked. It was hardly a duel. It was more like showing a few spells. He blocked each of my spells effortlessly, even though he had limited experience with a staff-wielding pyro user. I tried not to let it show, but judging by his smile, he probably sensed that I had some difficulty blocking his own attacks.”
TREY CLOVER & FLOYD LEECH
Trey is a good diplomat because he can remain relatively calm, even when around unpredictable beings from the ocean like Floyd
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. I don’t leave Heartslabyul all that often, and Floyd has been banned for the last two centuries. He seemed annoyed as Azul was chewing him out for what happened at Mimsyford. That doesn’t stop him from trying to see Riddle whenever His Majesty isn’t in Heartslabyul.”
TREY CLOVER & JADE LEECH
Gets along with Jade more. However, Riddle has warned him that Jade can be just as treacherous as Floyd
Despite knowing this, he can still get along with Jade even if they have their differences. He thinks Jade is pleasant, albeit unnerving when he wants to be
Discovered that the sea entity took an interest in mushrooms, of all things, and they were common in Heartslabyul so it was easy to procure some and gift them to Jade, it also helped smooth over diplomatic relations and was easier to bring a gift when he had to inform him that his brother was banned from the kingdom for at least a few centuries
“I suppose since we are both high-ranking entities that work with an archon, we get along. For a while, Jade had me completely fooled. I thought he was easily manipulated by those around him, but he’s there by his own volition. Riddle pointed that out to me. Sometimes, it’s him using the archon and others.”
TREY CLOVER & AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Of course he knows of Azul’s treachery. Trey has been around long about to remember when there was no Octavinelle, and witness the quick rise to power from Azul
Always reminds Heartslabyul’s diplomats to never make deals with Azul
“To anyone, it seems like he has changed. I remember the rumors and tales of The Ocean Demon of the Blue. Seeing how charming and smooth-talking Azul is now, you would hardly believe they’re the same person. I still warn Heartslabyul’s subjects to not make a deal.”
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