#‘this always looks positive from the point of view of the story’ do you mean the point of view of the main character

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 35 - Reappraise

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

ART!VIRGIL KLAXON

Perhaps if you hadn’t read them before these two chapters (here and here) may make more sense of what Virgil has been drawing.

And if you missed the wee!Earth&Sky flying machine adventure, that is contained in this one and this one.

But now, onwards! Virgy-boy still has some demons to exorcise and needs Scooter to help him. Points to whoever spots the cameo from an old friend 😈

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

The view from Virgil’s balcony was very similar, but subtly different. They weren’t adjacent - both John’s often-empty and Dad’s always-empty room lay between - and the shift of a few metres to the left meant the light reflected off different facets of the damp rocks of Mateo and the shadows changed shape. The sea met the shore at a marginally different angle, the light refracting through the shallows and hitting the greener end of blue. Two of the trees visible from Scott’s were hidden by the curve of Roundhouse Peak.

Scott hadn’t noticed any of this before Virgil pointed it out. What he did know was that on his own the breeze was stronger and there was fractionally more sky. On a hot day he’d always advocate for the cooler, more exposed position. Where he could see as far as possible. Where he could breathe.

But on a cooler evening, there was something comforting about how the sun’s residual heat radiated from the stone and bathed Virgil’s preferred haven in a warm glow.

Virgil had added to the warmth that evening by opening a bottle of Scott’s favourite scotch which he’d clearly stashed away at some point. Had it been one of the others who produced such a thing, Scott would be waiting for ‘The Favour’ or ‘The Difficult Question’. In Gordon’s case, quite frequently ‘The Confession’.

Virgil, however, often just did it to be nice. And Virgil knew that, unlike Dad and himself, Scott preferred his liquor without rocks. He took another sip and rested his head back with a contented sigh, allowing the liquid to rest on his tongue.

“Scott?”

“Mmmmhmm?” The heat spread through his sinuses as he breathed over it.

“Can I ask you a favour?”

Oh!

The whiskey hit the back of Scott’s throat and his eyeballs burned. Virgil seemed hesitant which mean this was going to be important! He coughed and croaked out a hurried confirmation:

“Always.”

Virgil, staring out to sea, appeared not to notice his brother’s nasal passages vaporising which, again, indicated something was Up. Scott scrubbed at his eyes with a sleeve and with an iron will, forced himself to get a grip of his respiratory system. He was about to say something else encouraging when Virgil suddenly spun to face him and in a voice of utmost seriousness stated:

“It’s a weird one.”

Scott raised an amused eyebrow.

“I can do weird.”

“Would you wear it again?”

The other eyebrow joined it with vigour.

“Wear what? If you’re asking about Halloween and that cursed Superman costume, Alan beat you to it and it’s a hard no. I might be persuaded to consider Batman but only if you’re Robin.”

Virgil snorted and swirled the ice in his glass. The not ungenerous measure he’d poured himself having already disappeared.

“As you very well know I don’t do tights. Not after the Christmas debacle.”

“I think you made a lovely elf.”

“You’re deranged.”

“Yeah but you love me.”

Virgil threw an ice cube at his head before conceding: “I do. Yes.”

He then frowned.

“Scooter, are you CRYING?”

“Nope. No no I’m just… enjoying this with ALL my senses.” He raised the glass and winked.

Virgil narrowed his eyes as if invisibly scanning his brother, then with a quirk of an eyebrow seemed to conclude there was no sudden emotional devastation and released him from scrutiny. He looked back out towards Mateo and tracked the petrels swooping to and from their rocky nests.

Scott followed his line of sight and started a little. There was a small cave at the base of Mateo which was invisible from Scott’s balcony. How had he never seen that before? He was about to point it out when he realised he’d distracted Virgil from his question.

“If you didn’t mean Halloween… what are you asking?”

“Your uniform. The, uh, air force one.”

“Hell no. I’m planning to burn it. That’s not part of my life anymore.”

“That doesn’t sound very environmentally friendly…”

“Alright bury it then. Shred it and bury it. No… shred it, dissolve it in acid then bury it.”

Virgil blinked. “Have you been watching murder mystery reruns again?”

“They’re relaxing.”

“Riiiiiiight.” Despite the feigned disbelief, Scott knew that Virgil had been the one to add three hundred and thirty-six hours worth of ‘A Century of Detective Classics’ to the family server and he knew Virgil knew that he knew that he’d done it as a cunning way to tempt Scott into some downtime. Devious little brothers… who… needed reassuring, immediately.

“It hurt you so it’s got to die. Don’t worry. I don’t even want to touch it again. If Grandma hadn’t spirited it away somewhere to clean it would be gone already.”

“Oh.” Perhaps imbibing scotch straight into his brain had slowed him down, but Virgil didn’t seem as reassured as Scott had intended.

“Don’t you need it for Ash’s dinner? You should go to that, it’s important.”

“I’ll work something out.”

“Oh, ok.” Virgil went quiet again and Scott realised he’d given the wrong answer somehow but wasn’t quite sure how to change it.

“What’s on your mind, Virgil?”

He sighed and cracked his knuckles one by one, making Scott cringe.

“Would you… um, would you wear it once more if… I… for me to… uh…”

“For you?! But… I don’t understand! It made you so unwell? I thought you hated it?”

“I did. I do. But… I don’t want to carry that fear anymore, I can’t be scared of CLOTHES. It’s… I just can’t. It’s ridiculous. And, well… and I was thinking perhaps if I was prepared… if it wasn’t a surprise… it might… I might not react quite so badly? My last memory of it wouldn’t be… uh… so heavy? And maybe I could finish my book.”

“Your book?” Now Scott was really bewildered.

Virgil put down his glass and disappeared into his suite, returning swiftly with one of the large black ring-bound pads of thick art paper the like of which Scott had seen many times. This one was more battered than most and his little brother clutched it to his chest for a moment then cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat down.

“I found it when I was hunting for a sketch I wanted to work up for the exhibition next month. Some of them aren’t… very nice. I was going to just throw it away but Gordon thinks I should complete it… finish the story.”

“Gordon’s seen it?” Scott wasn’t actually jealous, he was relieved to discover - the little snakelike green monster’s appearance seemed to have been limited to the ‘other’ version of himself. But he found himself kind of intrigued that their fish brother was apparently giving art advice these days.

Virgil rolled his eyes and growled quietly. “You know what he’s like… I foolishly tried to hide it when he burst into the room and of course he noticed and he wouldn’t let up until I showed him.”

“May I see?”

Virgil chewed his lip and nodded. Scott shuffled his lounger closer such that they were shoulder to shoulder and felt his jaw drop as Virgil opened to the first page and he saw a vivid recreation in pastel of his toddler self proudly holding a tiny baby Virgil, Mom and Dad hovering in the background. The baby’s fingers were wrapped tightly around his thumb and Virgil had sketched several enlarged views of their chubby hands in pencil along the bottom.

He turned the pages slowly and Scott saw several scenes he definitely recognised from childhood photographs and some he thought must have come from Virgil’s memory. They paddled in a watercolour sea together, rode their bikes in oils, Scott dangled upside down from a charcoal tree with chalky Virgil underneath, arms stretched upwards. There was a cartoon school bus with a dimpled stickman waving from the window.

He smiled as he recognised the two of them with the flying machine on the roof, although he remembered it as much sturdier than the painting suggested. The faded but detailed cross-section taped in to the next double page disabused him of that impression. This one was covered in his own scrawly handwriting. Scott chuckled and raised a hand to the scar on his jaw.

“Oh DEAR, I’d thought it was a much better design than that!”

“Hmmmm.” Virgil rumbled “The basic concept was sound but the materials and our duct tape-biased construction methods left something to be desired and yeah… your “math” was a touch… shaky…”

Virgil smiled and turned over to another cross-section, only this time of a much more elegant design which was surrounded by small sketches of joints and diagrams showing balanced forces, each with the appropriate calculations painstakingly recorded in Virgil’s neat handwriting.

Scott gasped as he realised that this… this could work. Who was he kidding - it was Virgil’s design - of course it would work.

“You fixed it!”

“I did. I felt… bad that we never tried again and you didn’t get your moment.”

“My moment?! Virgil! I nearly killed us both!”

“You were only eleven.”

“Even so…” Scott tried very hard not to think of all the occasions since then when he hadn’t had ‘being only eleven’ as an excuse but the more he tried the more of them bubbled up in his memory like some kind of noxious gas polluting his only fresh water source. No. They were past this now… it was better. Things were changing. He was changing.

“I guess I had this idea that I could build it and if… if you ever came back…” he shook his head “it was just a silly…”

“No.” Scott interrupted, grabbing his arm and pressing his forehead into the side of Virgil’s head. “Not silly. Thoughtful. Ingenious. Seeing the potential in an idea and making it work? Very… YOU.”

Virgil gave a small smile and turned back to the book. Scott felt himself blush at page after page of sketches, all of himself - as a wide eyed child, a cocky teenager winking, a laughing adult flipping pancakes… even a few where he had apparently sprouted falcon wings, one where Virgil had them too.

Scott couldn’t imagine how many hours these must have taken to create

“When did you do all this?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth he knew it was a stupid question. Virgil shrugged and turned the page.

“When you were gone.”

Scott put his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and squeezed as he turned again, seemingly keen not to linger on any one image.

A blazing sun burned out of the page, the wall of colour marred only by a silhouette of the falcon-winged man, clearly falling, curled in on himself as the wings trailed limply behind, the dark shapes of lost feathers becoming larger and more detailed towards the top. No prizes for spotting the reference there. The real sun, heading swiftly towards the horizon seemed to lose most of its heat and a modern day Icarus-but-for-Many-Miraculous-Escapes wondered yet again how he could have been so blind.

If that one gave him a chill, the next made him shiver, the warmth from the whiskey had now entirely dissipated - a faint pencil outline Scott holding a heavily shadowed Virgil in his arms. Then… there was that same Air Force Grad photo, reproduced in a dozen different styles. The last one almost photo-realistic but crossed through in heavy red pen.

Virgil tried to skip the next few pages but Scott gently took his hand and turned back. He recognised the image of the crashing jet, over and over… pencil drawn, painted, scratched with a blade into a thick black layer of wax crayon. There followed a page solely of fire. Skeletal outlines of fighter jets. Storms. Crowds of agonised faces. An incredibly detailed map of Bereznik decorated with vicious-looking black insects.

The last few pages shocked Scott the most - all the pictures were drawn on scraps of paper, and then glued in. The largest was a drawing in black ballpoint pen of an almost unrecognisable bearded stranger in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and tubes. There were smaller pencil studies of bruised hands, a foot, an ear, eyebrows over sunken eye sockets, a nearly skeletal chin with a scar… his scar. Scott swallowed hard - he’d looked that bad?

One smaller image stood out as it had clearly been screwed into a ball before being flattened out to stick on to the page. Scott’s younger self winked and laughed up at him from behind the creases, one arm wrapped around a huge box of popcorn, the other hand reaching out of the page towards him. Virgil had clearly got hold of a blue ballpoint pen for this one and had skilfully used it to produce a rainbow’s worth of blue shades. The picture somehow gleamed at him and Scott felt the green serpent stir in his gut. He bit the side of his tongue and motioned for Virgil to turn over to the next.

The very last page contained only the sky in vivid shades of blue with light wisps of cloud: Virgil’s starting place.

Scott swallowed hard as he realised Gordon hadn’t been giving art advice at all.

“I put it away when dad brought you home.”

“It’s… Wow…”

“It was an outlet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Scotty.”

“Not all of it. Some things though.”

He pulled his brother close again and planted a kiss in his hair.

“So how do you want to finish it?”

[myfairkatiecat]

“The narrative does this” “the narrative does that” “the narrative always portrays this like that but that like this” they said about a third person limited story in which there is a singular narrator. wonder if maybe they’re unreliable or something

[infizero]

i dont think i made this clear in the prev post but WHAT I WAS GETTING AT WAS i think toby specifically wants players to get attached to ralsei and make choices playing into that so that the inevitable reveal of our distinction from kris and their own opinions and feelings and everything hits even harder by sort of slapping you in the face and being like HEY BUDDY. THEY DONT WANT THIS. and also a slap in the face to ralsei too who i again would like to say is parasocial asf with us and needs to go to video game therapy :heart:

[klausysworld]

Hey babes, since you didn't update in 5 days im hoping that nothing bad happened to you and that you are alright:(<333

Anyway If not here is an new idea:

So Y/N is an Omega and her Parents don't like her and always been mean to her and abused her and all that yk? When they hear that Klaus who is an alpha seeks an Omega to be his, they try to sell her to him. (I don't know how to write this without it sounding weird but anywaysss) So they make her "perfekt" for him with putting on nice clothes and make up. And teach how she needs to be with her Alpha, which are all things like she needs to listen to him and do as he says and all that stuff. She is scared of what will happen to her since she heard the stories about Klaus.

But when she is with him he treats her so good and is caring and sweet and tells her that everything her parents said and did to her isn't true and that she doesn't have listen to their rules. She is comfortable with him and surprisingly happy and than there is smut and she even let's him mark her. She is happy with him and never wants to be away from him again and is kind of thankful that her parents sold her off.

Just for him

Klaus had been with his fair share of betas over his time, some other alpha as well but not an omega. Omegas needed tending to, attention and affection that he hadn’t been willing to give until now. He was at a time where he didn’t have anything to do, enemies were eliminated and he was in a somewhat healthy position with his family. All he needed was an omega and his days would be perfect.

And it didn’t take long for the word to spread through the supernatural community, all werewolves were informed that Klaus Mikaelson was looking for an omega to claim.

What they didn’t expect was for him to be so picky.

Elijah had been taking phone calls to arrange his brother meeting with omegas and their families to try and find the one best suited for him and they were both losing hope until Y/n’s father called. They painted the perfect picture, a sweet little angel. So Klaus agreed to a meeting and they brought the girl over.

When they arrived at the abattoir the girl was pushed forward, she reeked of fear and anxiety as her big eyes darted in every possible direction. Her hair was down, framing her soft face, her face was smooth with makeup with a pink blush across her nose and cheeks. Her lashes were long and painted black while her lips were pink and glossed.

Klaus’s eyes travelled the length of her, his pupils dilating as he looked over her pink cami dress. Her smooth legs were on display and her small feet were hidden by ankle strap platform heels.

Elijah could feel his lips quirk up slightly at the sight before them and he glanced to Niklaus with interest. They both gave a subtle nod before welcoming the Y/L/Ns inside.

Y/n kept silent the whole afternoon, just like her parents told her to be. Either her mother or father answered any of Klaus’s questions and both were more than eager to convince him she was perfect.

What they didn’t pick up on was how close Klaus was to tearing their throats out for not shutting up. Throughout the afternoon he could sense that it wasn’t just him that y/n was afraid of. He could see her body twitch and shift whenever either of her parents put a hand on her or looked her in the eye, at one point she had shuffled closer to Klaus himself so that her father couldn’t put his arm around her.

His eyes had been checking her all over and after staring at her soft thighs for a considerable amount of time, he eventually noticed small marks. Her dress had accidentally moved up and it barely covered her pretty panties from his view but unfortunately he didn’t catch a peek. What he saw instead were fingertip shaped bruises on her skin. It was her mother who fixed her skirt, a glare on her face when y/n went to open her mouth to apologise.

So he decided he would like to spend the next morning with y/n, alone.

The poor omega looked like she was going to cry when he told her that she would be having brunch with him and only him. As much as she was afraid of her parents, the ruthless Klaus Mikaelson was surely worse.

Nevertheless the next morning she was up and ready. Dressed to impress and waiting for him to come pick her up.

Her parents stood waiting expectantly for the door to knock and were fast on their toes to answer it, bright smiles on their face. Klaus raised a brow and glanced behind them to y/n who was picking at her freshly done nails.

“Come omega” he commanded, watching as she quickly scurried to his side. Her hand hesitantly went to his outstretched one, her eyes not daring to meet his. He hummed lowly and guided her to his car, opening the door for her and watching as a soft blush covered her face. She got into the passenger seat obediently and within a second he was beside her.

The ride was quiet, she could hear her heart pounding as he drove to a cafe.

He turned his head to her as he parked and unclipped his belt. “You don’t have to be so quiet my love” he mumbled whilst reaching forward to let his hand graze her cheek. Her eyes found his as a small whimper left her on response and his lips twitched into a smirk. “You truly are a sweet little omega” he grins and her cheeks redden further.

He shakes his head to himself and reaches for her hand, holding onto it and pulling her along with him into the cafe. “I’m sure you’re hungry sweetheart, you barely ate a thing at dinner” he muses as he leads her to their table and sits her down before seating himself opposite her.

Her big curious eyes dashed around the lounge type room, following the plates of food that the waitresses wore and to the range of guests, all clearly from money.

Klaus watched as she looked back to him quickly, her jaw clenched shut and her nose struggling to breath fast enough. He turned his head slightly and slid the menu across to her “you can have any thing you like, would you like something sweeter like pancakes or waffles or would you prefer something bigger like a full English or an American breakfast?” He pointed to the different sections for her and let her scan through the contents of each offer. Though his eyes narrow when her gaze landed on the sides

“I’ll just have some toast” she uttered reluctantly but he shook his head

“Choose something proper or I’ll pick for you” he commanded, his tone a little rougher as he felt his wolf pushing forward. A low, barely audible whine left her throat as she looked back down to the menu.

When she failed to make a better choice, out of fear of her mother or father finding out of her ‘greedy’ habits, Klaus simply did as promised and ordered her a stack of pancakes with bacon and syrup while getting a full english for himself.

A vanilla milkshake was put infront of her, despite her claiming to want a water and once more her cheeks went a shade pinker. It baffled her how he seemed to know exactly what she wanted and her wolf was slowly warming to his.

Throughout brunch Klaus was able to pull a few conversations out of her, nothing personal otherwise she seemed to shut down but she liked to hear about him and his interests though he had began to wonder if it was genuine interest or what how she was told to behave.

It wasn’t until after he had payed and brought her back to the car did he mention anything of it.

Just as Klaus clipped her belt on for her to ensure her safety did his hand get ahold of her chin to make her look at him. His eyes flashed gold making hers do the same, his irises bled into orange while hers went a pale yellow. He leant forward to brush his nose along the side of her neck, his wolf hungry for her and his mind wandering at the scent of her blood beneath her skin. The primal urge to sink his teeth in and mark her as his own was overwhelming and the way her wolf was responding only added to it. She was so submissive to him, so ready to bend to his every word.

“How long have your parents been training you?” He whispered gruffly and she felt her heart sink. When she didn’t reply he pulled back and tilted his head at her, daring her to speak “omega…”

“Since you started looking” she murmured timidly

“So they made you just for me?” He hummed and tucked her hair behind her ears as she nodded. “You know you don’t have to be so scared” he told her gently as he watched the panic sink in “you’re a very good girl, a very lovely omega but I’m sure you’re even better when you’re being yourself sweetheart” he explained and she nibbled her lip nervously. “I’d like to keep you my love” he muttered and she glanced to his eyes “to be my omega” he confirmed and she nodded slowly. “But I need you to be happy and comfortable, I don’t want my little omega to be afraid and feeling out of place” he murmured softly.

Y/n fiddled with her fingers as she glanced between him and her hands, unsure how to behave. He sighed lightly and stroked her jaw “alright sweetheart, you just sit and ill get us back” he mumbled a little disappointed.

She looked out the window as he got into his own seat and started the car. Her leg bounced through her nerves as she pictured her parents reaction when he told them she wasn’t the omega for him. As they drove nearer and nearer to his mansion she panicked more and more. Her breathing grew more laboured and she felt like the car was growing smaller around her.

Klaus glanced over to her as he heard her heavy breaths before quickly pulling over and unclipping his belt. He sped round to her side of the car and pulled her out of it and into his arms. She panted for air and he smoothed his hand over her hair

“It’s alright my love” he murmured softly “just breathe sweetheart, nice deep breaths” he tried to calm her but it wasn’t working. He bounced her gently almost like a baby as he shushed her softly. “You’re okay” he hummed “nothing’s gonna happen to you” he whispered but her face only seemed to get redder without air. He cupped her head and pushed her face into his neck, letting her nose press to his scent gland.

As though a switch was clicked she was relaxed, inhaling his scent and huffing it back out. Her eyes fluttered shut and a soft moan left her pink lips. Klaus felt a low rumble leave his chest at the sound she released and his body shivered when her open mouth pressed to his neck.

His fingers gripped onto her hair tightly as she sucked the skin into her mouth.“Omega…” he groaned as he felt the wind whip over them as a car sped past. Her legs were round his waist as he clung onto her tightly. “Such…a good omega” he mumbled as her blunt teeth scraped his neck.

Y/n couldn’t help but want to sink her teeth into his skin. His alpha scent was addicting and being this close to him was sending her into complete auto drive.

Klaus stroked her hair gently, encouraging her to sink her teeth into his neck with a grin forming on his face. None of the other omegas he had met with were like this, nowhere near as perfect as she was.

His wolf had chosen hers and she had submitted to it instantly. Already she was seeking comfort from him and a whining mess.

Klaus’s eyes rolled back as he felt her little canines sink into the side of his neck, he squeezed her tight and pressed her up against the door on his car as he felt the gentle burn of the venom in her gums transfer into his bloodstream.

With much reluctance, y/n pulled her mouth away from his neck and began to drop her legs back down to the ground slowly. Her eyes widened as she realised the marks in his skin weren’t fading and hesitantly looked up to his eyes. He looked straight back at her, pupils blown open and fangs visible against his lip. She felt her belly pool with heat at the sight and she began to tilt her head to expose her neck for him.

Klaus didn’t waste another second before pressing his mouth to her throat, licking and nuzzling the flesh before dropping his fangs into her. Her moan was heavenly and encouraged him to take a gulp of her blood. The taste was intoxicating and his entire body was filled with a pleasant buzz as his hand began to grope alone her thighs.

Both minds fell to autopilot as he pulled back and her legs dropped down from his waist. She was turned around and bent straight over the hood of the car. Klaus ground his front against her soft little ass, his hands dragging the skirt of her dress up to reveal her cotton panties. He let out a groan before sinking his teeth back into her neck from behind, then her shoulder and her back, covering her in bite marks.

Y/n was a babbling, panting mess, her body rubbing itself against Klaus’s dick like a horny puppy. Her omega mind was completely in control as whimpered pleas fell from her lips, begging him to claim her right there.

Klaus wasn’t in any more control to deny her, his fingers snapping the elastic in her panties and throwing them to the road, his darkening eyes finding her bare ass and soaked pussy as he crouched down to get a look at her.

Y/n let out a pleasured cry when his warm mouth pressed to her cunt, her nails dug into the metal she was sprawled over and her legs began to shake. She moaned loudly for her alpha, begging and begging for more.

Klaus lapped like a dog, his tongue twisting and folding to devour her. His hands held her ass to give himself the best access and he sucked and fucked her weeping hole with his his face. Her little nails elongated to form her wolf’s claws as she cling to the car, her moans and cries were echoed out into the road and nearby trees but she didn’t care. All she knew was that whatever this feeling was, she was addicted to it.

Her hips ground herself onto his mouth, her body trembling and screaming for him to keep going. She let out a loud, incoherent sound as she felt something much more urgent flood her, begging to be reached.

Klaus could feel her body struggling to hold onto the building feeling. His tongue plunged into her repeatedly, taking enjoyment in her cries and the way her little cunt would tighten. It only took a few more sucks and licks at her pulsing clit before her legs went out and he help her firmly against the car as a rush of wetness was squirted all over him.

Klaus let out a grunt and a laugh when he pulled his face back to look at the mess, wiping his face with his sleeve and watching her limp thighs drip. “Perfect. Fucking. Omega” he growled as he stood up and ripped his belt off.

Y/n was panting softly, her breath creating a wet circle on the car as she pressed her cheek against the top. A small whimper left her when a car drove past, the drivers eyes wide as they sped by.

She felt his hands hold onto her hips, lifting her so she was bend further over the hood so her toes couldn’t reach the ground. Her lashes fluttered and a breath of air left her lungs as she felt something nice and thick press against her cunt.

“Alpha…” she whined and Klaus hummed deeply

“It’s alright omega, it’ll feel so good” he whispered as he thrust his hips forward. A sharp noise left her at the stretch. Klaus’s head threw back as he forced his cock all the way inside. His hand gently stroked her back as he heard her little sobs “it’s okay” he murmured “you’ll feel better in a moment I’m certain” he soothed.

Her pussy squeezed and pulsated around his cock, clinging to him desperately. She slowly felt the sting disappear and was left with a full feeling. Klaus sensed her calming and gently traced the teeth marks in her skin. “good girl” he whispered as he slowly began to move within her.

Her body relaxed entirety when he started thrusting into her, her cries became soft little moans and her eyes closed.

Klaus could feel his wolf sit right at the front of his mind, claiming her now as his. Klaus could feel the need to breed her full of his pups overwhelm his body.

His hips snapped to hers quickly, her hot pussy swallowing his cock more and more with each thrust. Her moans grew more frequent and her body rocked back and forth slowly to feel him hit deeper.

His hands caressed her hips gently as he groans loudly. “Such a good omega” he praises making her whimper happily.

“More” she whined and he grinned, moving fast and harder, causing the car to shake beneath her. He moved his hand around her waist, sliding it down to stroke his fingers against her slippery clit.

Y/n let out a loud cry at the familiar build up of heat. She looks over her shoulder to see her alpha pounding into her. Dark veins travel under his golden eyes as he looked to her. His lips parted to pant and he smiled to her, his spare hand pet her hair gently. A grunt left his lips when she tightened around him and he pressed his fingers down a little harder as she ground her clit against them.

Her sweaty hands left marks against the hood of the car and her body felt hotter with each passing second. Klaus could feel her squeezing his swelling cock every few seconds, her puffy clit pulsating and her thighs trembling. He could feel the marks in his neck burn pleasantly and knew she could feel the same from her own mating marks as a pleasant purr rolled through her body.

Mumbled moans tumbled from her lips clumsily as her mind completely clouded over. She muttered incoherently as she felt his cock spill inside her. He rubbed her clit quickly, his other hand gently sliding down to her ass as he moving his hips a little slower as his sensitivity skyrocketed.

He smiled lazily to himself at the coked sound she let out as her pussy spasmed around him. He pet her ass gently, gradually reducing his thrusts and pulling himself out. Klaus let her rest against the car for a moment, grinning as another car went by and offering a finger wave to the passengers.

He hummed to himself as he pulled his trousers back up and grabbed his belt from the floor. He fixed himself up before picking up on the sniffles of his omega. He frowned and noticed her still over the car, he quickly lifted her up.

“Sweetheart” he whispered, his hand cupping face to see the tears gathered in her eyes. “Oh dear” he uttered, quickly pulling her face to his neck again and kissing her forehead “what’s wrong omega? Does it sting?” He questioned and she shook her head

“My mother’s going to be so mad” she whispered, looking to her underwear that resided on the dirty road. Klaus smiled gently and pet her cheek

“No she won’t my love, she’ll be very proud of what a good girl you’ve been for your alpha” he told her and she sniffed “I’m gonna get rid of those worthless parents of yours my lovely, and then you’re going to stay with me forever” he whispered “gonna look after you and our babies, bet you’ll give me strong alpha pups” he cooed and she smiled slightly while wiping her eyes.

“my alpha?” She whispers quietly and he nods

“All yours little one, yours forever” he confirms as he carries her back into the car and sits her on his lap. “Gonna have to buy you so many dresses my lovely, and so many pairs of panties for me to rip up” he teased and she blushed. He stroked her hair gently with one hand while the other drove the car back to his mansion.

His siblings only smiled as he walked past them with her hidden in his arms, he took her up the stairs and into an empty room. He opened the wardrobe in the corner and dozens of soft materials fell out. Her eyes sparkled at the sight and he set her down on her feet

“You stay here and build your pretty nest and I’ll go take care of your parents okay sweet omega?” He smiled and she nodded with a bright smile as she grabbed one of the fleeces.

He kissed the top of her head before jogging down the stairs to sort everything out for his little omega to live a safe and happy life.

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii, hope you’re doing well :) love your stories <3

ofc you absolutely don’t have to write this one if you don’t want to!

just had a lil thought of some form of enemies to lovers with tom (2009-11) where reader travels with the band on tour & etc & one night while they stay at a hotel somewhere reader is in the pool at night (in like a bikini or some form of swimwear) for like a midnight swim but at some point tom gets in as-well & it’s just them (they can have some bickering or whatever) but it would eventually result in them doing it in the pool 🤭

again you don’t have to do this one if you don’t want to buy i just thought i would ask :)

ty for reading!!

LATE NIGHT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you and tom had never got on well, some unresolved tension meaning the two of you always clashed. so, when you decide to go for a late night swim alone, what will happen when tom has the exact same idea?

content: angst & smut

a/n: omggg this might be my fav request i’ve ever gotten so thank u sm anon, literally screamed when it came thru this whole scenario is so perfect, as u can imagine i enjoyed every second of writing this, hope u enjoy!!

the night is warm, this totally expected for august in southern spain, where tokio hotel were for this part of their world tour. adjusting to the different climates that i experience around the world is something i am yet to get used to, even after coming with the band since they had started accumulating the fans to warrant travelling from country to country to perform. one day, i would be in somewhere in russia, completely submerged in blankets and still cold, then the next, i would be met with the sweltering warmth of southern europe, overheating despite my clear lack of clothing, only my bra and panties covering me. but tonight, the heat was unbearable, my body sweating no matter what position i tried to fall asleep in.

the rhythmic ticking of the small clock situated on the wall in front of me didn’t help - the sound seeming to get louder each time, the time that it displays reminding me that i should be sleeping. but, i know that it isn’t going to happen anytime soon, sitting up frustratedly with a loud sigh.

i stand up, walking toward the large glass doors leading to my balcony, pushing one open slightly so that i can squeeze through. it is even hotter outside, my body being hit by an intense surge of heat as i step onto the balcony, nearing the edge. my arms rest on the railing, eyes taking in the view in front of me - thousands of lights in each direction from the city ahead. however this doesn’t catch my attention as my eyes fall to the large pool below, a decent sized jacuzzi built into it. it is empty, the body of water completely still, small lights around it’s exterior giving away its tranquility. it could cool me down - there’s no way i’m falling asleep with my body this hot.

my feet turn on their heels, stepping back inside my room, closing the glass door behind me as i head to the small walk in closet in the corner. my hands fumble around, fingers finally touching the small bikini that i am looking for. i take it out, stripping from my clothes, before slipping on the skimpy red bikini, tying my hair in a loose bun. i take a towel from the bathroom, sliding on the first pair of sandals i see, before quietly exiting my hotel room and walking to the elevator, entering it as it is expectedly empty.

the elevator doors slide open as i am met with the empty lobby, the receptionist being the only person in sight. i give her a small nod, walking outside to the pool area. as i near closer, i sigh in relief, seeing that it is still empty, placing my towel on a random lounger. i slide my shoes off beside it, walking towards the pool. testing the temperature, i dip my toes in, shivering slightly at the coldness, the feeling relieving me as i already feel myself cool down. deciding that it is fine to get in, i allow my whole body to slip into the water, my head staying above as i begin to swim over to the shallow end, finally stopping once i reach the edge.

my eyes glance over to the jacuzzi just a few metres away, contemplating whether it would be a better option than the pool. it would certainly make me sleepier, and, reminding myself of how late it is, i decide to get in, quickly stepping out of the pool and climbing into the jacuzzi. the water is much warmer, bubbles emerging from beneath as i take a seat, my entire body relaxing. i feel myself becoming tired as i spread out, laying my head backwards and resting it on the edge. my eyes gaze aimlessly at the stars above, feeling completely content, the water removing any tension in my body as i continue to watch the sky.

but, it only takes a few minutes for my head to whip upwards, becoming quickly alert as i hear footsteps nearing the pool, wondering who else would want to be here this late into the night.

i squint a little, trying to make out the silhouette , an audible groan escaping my lips once it enters the light, letting me work out who it is. broad shoulders, slim yet muscular frame, lips adorned with a single metal piercing - i could recognise him from anywhere. the familiar jet black braids move toward me, a confused expression taking over his face once he spots me.

“the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, setting his towel down and pulling his t-shirt off, revealing his perfectly formed abs, muscles in his biceps flexing as he does so. he was hot, but i hated him, his attractiveness only making me despise him more. after my gaze lingers on his torso for a couple seconds, i look upwards, seeing that he is still focused on me, waiting for a response as he walks towards the jacuzzi.

i roll my eyes, beginning to get up, not willing to engage in any conversation with him right now, especially one in which no one else is involved, the atmosphere already tense.

“doesn’t matter. i’ll go.” i say, standing up, water dripping from my body. his eyes scan my figure, tongue poking from his lips slightly as he messes with his lip piercing, drinking in every curve, my boobs admittedly almost spilling out of my bikini top. yet i didn’t care when i had put it on, not expecting to see anyone else at the pool, let alone tom. his eyes still glued to my cleavage, i scoff, putting one foot out of the jacuzzi.

“my eyes are up here, perv.” i remark as he finally removes his gaze from my chest, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“don’t flatter yourself sweetheart.” he states, stepping into the jacuzzi, sitting down as the water covers most of his body, the top of his chest still on show. he stretches his arms out to the side of him, resting them on the edge, tilting his head to the side before continuing. “why are you leaving?”

“cause i know you’ll piss me off. you already are.” i respond, standing beside the water, preparing to walk away.

“really? don’t be so dramatic. get in.” he says, lifting one hand up and motioning to the empty space in the jacuzzi opposite him, his eyes not leaving mine.

“i’ll pass. have fun tom.” i say sarcastically, finding my towel on the lounger, wrapping it around my small frame, now shivering from the lack of warmth the water had brought me.

“you know, to say you’re the most stubborn person i know.” he starts, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “you’re leaving pretty fast. how come you’re letting me win so easily?”

i stop in my tracks, turning around to face him, wondering why he is so eager for me to stay.

“why do you care?” i question, my expression turning sour.

“i don’t.” he shrugs. “just don’t understand why you’re in a rush to leave. you’re not scared of me, are you?”

i scoff at his question, noting the way he is trying to get under my skin, and, much to my frustration, it is working. i know that if i leave, that means i have let him win. and, he is right. i am stubborn. it is this fact that prompts me to turn around, throwing the towel off of my body as i walk towards the jacuzzi, hesitantly getting back into it as a satisfied grin spreads across tom’s face.

“scared my ass.” i mutter, shaking my head as i fold my arms, irritated by his ability to anger me from the smallest of words.

“hm? sorry, didn’t catch that. you gotta speak up.” he taunts, tilting his head as he raises his eyebrows, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips. he stretches his arms out further as they rest against the stone decorating the edge of the water, adjusting his position and getting comfy, awaiting my response.

“just shut up. jesus fucking christ.” i scold, facing away from him, tempted to get up and leave once again. but i can’t give him that satisfaction, so i stay put, a tense silence between us as he surprisingly listens to me.

my body jolts upwards in shock, feeling his foot brush against mine from underneath the water as he sinks further into it. i make eye contact, scowling at him as he holds his hands up in defense.

“sorry.” he mumbles, his body slowly drifting closer towards mine. i ignore it, letting my head fall backwards, attempting to relax, figuring that if i am stuck here with him, i may as well try to make the experience as comfortable as it can be.

but the second his leg brushes against mine, with too much force to be unintentional, it is clear that his previous movement was definitely not an accident. i look at him, seeing that he has moved much closer, now to the left of me, instead of directly opposite me as he previously was. i stay quiet, trying to pay no attention to his presence despite the noticeable feeling of his eyes burning into my figure.

“red looks good on you.” he says into the silence, my eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unable to fall for his attempt at complimenting me.

“what?” i ask, now turning to face him, his eyes dark.

“you know what i said.” he states confidently, gaze never leaving mine as his teeth momentarily sink into his bottom lip.

his body inches closer to mine as my own is frozen in place, unable to move or even comprehend what is happening. his finger grazes the knot of my costume from beneath the water, slipping underneath the material briefly before playing with the hem of my bikini bottoms, my hips jolting a little at his touch. he smirks at my reaction, removing his fingers and watching the way my face drops, partly in disappointment.

he sees the desperation in my eyes, dipping his head downwards so that his lips are just below my ear.

“you know you don’t hate me at much as you let out.” he whispers, his breath tickling my neck as i feel him smile against it, goosebumps beginning to form over the skin.

my mouth parts open, no sound escaping from it as my chest rises and falls at a faster pace, completely flustered by his words. he can clearly see this, humming lowly as his face remains inches away from my neck, his slow breathing fanning over it.

“in fact…” he begins, his lips brushing over the skin as he dips his head further downwards. “i don’t think you hate me at all, do you?”

i say nothing, breath hitching once his lips finally make contact with my neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses over it. my hands find the back of his head, fingers playing with his dreads as i push him further into me, his kisses become sloppy, his teeth grazing over the skin.

“knew you always had something for me, sweetheart.” he teases, hands grabbing the flesh of my thighs as he uses them to guide my body, placing me on his lap. my chest is now out of the water, lower half completely submerged as it sits on top of him, faces inches apart.

he takes my lack of response as an invitation to continue, attaching his lips to mine in a rough and sloppy kiss. i waste no time in kissing back, overcome with an unforeseen desperation, my hatred for him fuelling desire from within me that had never been ignited - not like this. but i used my anger towards him, keeping it as a motive to kiss him harder, pressing my lips harsher into his. he groans into my mouth, his hands finding my ass as he kneads the flesh, using it to push my hips against his, my lips faltering against him.

the heat around me from the warmth of the night is now nothing compared to the one spreading between my legs, my need for tom only growing as i begin to create my own slow rhythm on his lap, grinding so that his clothed dick, which i can feel hardening beneath me, hits my clit perfectly.

my head falls backwards, unable to kiss back as my hips continue to work against his. his lips find my chest, biting and sucking on the parts of my breasts exposed, my nipples hardening under the fabric of my bikini. he sees this, his fingers running over them as i shudder. his hands reach to undo the knot holding my bikini in place, about to tug on it before i protest.

“you can’t…” i breathe out, not slowing my movements. “someone could see.”

“but they won’t.” he states, keeping his head against my chest, hands staying on my back. “you just have to stay close to me, yeah?”

he tugs on the material, watching as the top half of my bikini falls off, revealing my chest to him. a smirk spreads across his face as he takes it all in, hands cupping my boobs as he squeezes them a little, a low whine falling from my lips in response.

“so fucking hot.” he breathes out, detaching his hands from my breasts, moving them to my back and pulling my chest so it is flush against his. “see? no one but me gets to see. exactly how it should be.”

he whispers the last part as i roll my eyes, becoming visibly impatient. he picks up on this, bucking his hips as i rest my hands on his chest, lifting myself off of him as he takes off his trunks, letting them rest at his knees, not bothering to remove them fully. he moves my panties to the side, the water rushing to my heat as i shudder a little.

he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance. “you sure?”

his hands rest on my lower back, looking upwards at me, his expression strangely concerned, my consent mattering to him way more than i had first anticipated. i nod my head, letting out a confident ‘yes’.

that is enough for him as he slowly pushes inside of me, the water giving a foreign feeling as my thighs clench. he lets out a long groan, watching the way my mouth falls open, eyes screwing shut. i feel his tip bottom out inside of me, my walls stretched out further than they ever had been, none of the guys that i had been with being as big as tom. though the discomfort soon subsides, my face twisting in pressure as i nod slowly, giving him the green light as he begins to thrust upwards into me at a steady pace.

“where did the stubbornness go, hm?” he teases, knowing that my entire body is there for him to ruin, long past the point when i would argue with him. “thought i pissed you off, doesn’t look like it right now.”

i let out a loud moan, that the only sound i am able to make as he is hitting angles that have never been felt before, no one ever able to make me feel like this. hell, if i had known his dick was this good, i would’ve stopped hating him years ago. his tip brushes against my sensitive spot, my walls clenching around him as i squeeze my lips shut, trying to stay quiet as i silently remind myself of where we are - anyone able to catch us right now.

“you like that, huh?” he asks, repeatedly hitting the spot over and over as i bury my face into his shoulder, biting it roughly to keep the moans at bay, feeling them dangerously close in the back of my throat. “don’t hide those pretty moans, wanna hear them baby.”

his hands push me away from his shoulder, my head now upright as i can no longer contain my moans, letting them pour from my lips, tom nodding his head slowly.

desperate to reach my climax, i meet his thrusts, hips rotating in an attempt to increase the friction. this clearly has as much of an effect on tom as it does me, his head tilting backwards as he lets out a low groan.

“just like that baby. fuck- yeah, keep going.” he praises, this only fuelling my stamina, his thrusts becoming slow and weak as he lets me do most of the work.

the knot in my stomach tightens, so much that i know i cannot hold on any longer. tom’s hands squeeze my waist, fingers and nails digging in, the slight pain mixed with pleasure turning me on even more.

“getting close.” i manage to say, bringing my lips to messily collide with his, my movements sloppy and uneven. he kisses back, groaning into my mouth as he slips his tongue in. he starts thrusting upwards at a rapid pace, my ability to kiss back faltering as i feel him twitch inside of me.

“me too. cum with me, yeah?” he says against my lips, one harsh thrust into me all it takes for me to come undone, feeling him shoot his load into me. he moves in and out slowly, fucking it into me, his teeth firmly sinking into his lip as his eyebrows knit together. i collapse into his chest, breathing fast and shallow as my entire body shakes, his thrusts coming to a stop, yet he remains inside of me. his lips lazily kiss my shoulder, hands rubbing my back.

“why didn’t we do that sooner, hm?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: a helping hand turns an enemy into a friend for one single night of truce. one single night that ends up redefining their entire relationship, the start of where everything is about to change.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,4k warnings: mentions of heavy drinking, sex, p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, language, size kink, breast play, male dominance, jason's sex stimulated superiority complex

a/n: the fact this was supposed to be way longer scared me of how many chapters i might need to end this series lol. and i tried making it possible to read without the context of the series for those who just want to read a nice smut lol. also, thank you for all the support thus far, it has been incredible seeing so many people invested in this story and wanting to see its development. thank you thank you thank you for supporting this silly writer's dream. ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

Thanks, man. Have a good night. Shutting the door closed behind him, Jason thanked the driver before he watched his Uber ride drive his car away, turning the corner and leaving the street he was left on. The night was cold and dark, the faint lighting of the streetlamp doing nothing to provide him a clear view of his ambiance, instead, all was gloom.

 Standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, he let out a deep, long sigh. It was late, really late, past 1am the last time he checked, and the weight of the alcohol in his system begged him to find his way to bed. But the soft, barely audible, breaths of the lady behind him reminded Jason he still had a task ahead: getting you to his apartment.

As a strong wind blew past him, he zipped his jacket up, protecting himself from the unusually chilly night, for this time of the year at least, and turned on his heels to find you resting against the stony wall of the old structure, eyes narrowly managing to remain open. You felt the weather as much as he did, hugging yourself to acquire some type of warmth despite your inappropriate attire.

Carefully, he approached your sleepy frame and guided you inside, a hand placed on your back the entire walk up the stairs. Jason’s building was old, but well maintained.  Meaning, it looked decent for all the decades it’d been through, but didn’t have an elevator casting on whoever lived on the last floor (Jason) the curse to climb all the way up every single day.

Already struggling due to the alcohol and tiredness, halfway through your journey you let out a moan without realizing. Your pace grew slower, and you lacked the effort to simply lift your legs and place your foot on the next step.

“Come on, love. We’re getting closer.” Jason said, pausing right behind you. He had to hold his laugh as you turned back to face him, eyes watery and lips sticking out in a pout.

“Why didn’t we use the elevator? Do you hate me?” you cried.

“Not everyone has daddy’s money to afford an apartment with an elevator,” he joked, but your response caught him by surprise, as your face crunched into a sort of angry expression mixed with a tint of sadness.

“I’m not… I…” you tried to mumble out, but failed countless times. “My feet hurt!”

Sighing deeply once more, he pushed you up by your waist, hands placed safely around you but alway mindful of its position. As you reached the next floor, you thanked your slow mind tonight for not allowing a scream to leave your mouth when Jason grabbed your legs and lifted you up so he could carry you to his apartment.

You had to say, it should’ve surprised you that he carried you with what seemed like a total lack of effort on his part, like you weighed nothing. However, you knew him. You knew he spent countless hours training at the gym, to the point you often wondered if he didn’t live there as well. That he’d often pass you carrying up to eight different weight plates in one single trip to use in his next exercise.

It did surprise you he could carry you. It surprised you he actually did it.

On his arm, the sweet coconut smell reached your nose, and you had to hold yourself from feeling sick. The alcohol was doing its job on you, and gosh you hated it. Tiredness taking over, you rested your head on his shoulder and fought against yourself to keep your eyes open.

“How much do you lift?” you mumbled a question, poking the bicep within your reach. You felt his breath hit your skin as he let out a soft chuckle.

“A lot more than you weight.” he stated, and continued his climb silently until you two were inside his deliciously warm and scrupulously tidy apartment. “Come,” he called after you when your feet were back on the ground. You followed him through the darkened living room until he opened a door and turned the light on in his bedroom. “You can sleep here, I’ll take the sofa.”

Your polite and sober side wanted to complain, to offer to sleep on the sofa instead, but your drunk and seriously exhausted one just wanted to throw yourself on the bed. Accepting the drunk side’s victory, you sat down with a noise and laid on his bed, eyes closing soon after, but being forced to open as you felt the mattress sink right beside you.

Struggling to lift your head, you found Jason bent down to catch your feet, loosening the laces of your converse and helping you take them off. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed as you sat up again and started to unhook your bra from beneath your shirt.

Jason got nervous, eyes quickly shifting from you to the floor, not knowing what to do. Pulling your bra off through one of your sleeves, he took it as his key to leave you alone before you could start stripping off your pants too. Standing up, he reached the bedroom door just as you were climbing under the duvet, head laying on the pillow with eyes already closed. 

He knew that, in your state, it wouldn’t be long before you were in deep slumber. So, turning off the lights, peeking at you one last time, he closed the door behind him. Careful to not make any noise. Careful not to wake you up. Unaware of the smile gracing his lips.

It’d been well over an hour since you had fallen asleep. The darkness still loomed outside, but the dim lighting of Jason’s side table lamp illuminated his living room, casting a shadow upon his body.

Jason couldn’t fall asleep, for some reason. He had tried lying down and forcing his eyes closed, had tried listening to whale sounds, rain sounds, brown, blue, black, white, purple noises. Nothing. Nothing seemed to put him to bed, not even his half drunk state.

So, feeling exhausted, he stood up from the sofa and went to the small kitchen to make himself some tea, hoping it would help him give in to sleep. He tried to be quiet, mindful of his guest still sleeping in his bed, filled his red mug with the tea and returned to the sofa, sitting beside his also sleeping kitten, whose snores were too loud for a beast of his size. 

The drink was warm, and the taste pleased him just enough. He immediately felt more relaxed, letting the warmth fill his entire body, as he laid back onto the sofa and he could really feel like he was starting to rest.

On the other hand, you woke up confused. It was dark, and the pillows were comfortable, but they didn’t smell like your soap, nor did you find your childhood plush toy just within reach on your bed. Suddenly sober, you almost jumped off the bed before the memories started flooding your mind.

Shit. You definitely weren’t home, and this home certainly wasn’t from someone you wished it was. Slowly, you remembered Jason helping you take your shoes off, remembered him helping you up the infinite stairs of his building. And gosh, you remembered his damned smirk while he flirted with you.

You were pissed. P-i-s-s-e-d. Pissed. Why did you do that, Yn? Why did you end up here? Where the fuck did Nessie go to and why didn’t you go home?

In the darkness, you felt your feet touch the cold wooden tiles and you had to bring them back up quickly, not expecting the chilly night weather, but soon remembering how cold you’d felt just before coming to his apartment. 

Your bare legs were feeling it too, and you struggled to find your pair of jeans. It wasn’t anywhere, goddamn it. There was no way you’d go out in only your shirt. You had to find something, and remembering you were in a 6 foot tall monster, you knew he ought to have something around. 

Blindly skirmishing through the room, you felt the soft cotton fabric of what seemed to be a hoodie and put it on. It fit largely on you, the hem falling on the middle of your thighs, and the strong smell of perfume lingering from it.

With light footsteps, you got to the door. Twisting the handle with care, you heard the cracking sound of the door as you opened it, exposing the dimly lit living room. Jason heard the same cracking sound you did, his head jolting back so fast he felt the muscles on his neck aching. 

There you were, hidden behind the door, a string of light illuminating your shape. You still looked sleepy, your cheeks puffed, and the minimum makeup you wore looked smashed on your face. But then, his eyes fell on your body, how your legs were bare and you somehow wore his favorite red hoodie.

Wow. Just, wow!

“Hey” he greeted, waving awkwardly in your direction. You only offered him a shy, toothless smile, eyes scanning the room and landing everywhere but him. “Did I wake you?” he asked, voice tinged by worry.

“No,” you shook your head, meeting his eyes for a brief while. His stare gave you goosebumps, and you returned your eyes to the floor, the tiling giving you more comfort. “I just… woke up.”

An awkward silence fell before you, neither brave enough to look at the other. The air was warm, you didn’t know if it was a sudden weather change or if it was the lingering tension between you two.

“I,” you started, and he immediately looked at you. “I think I’m gonna head home.” you announce, trying to return to the safety of his bedroom.

“No way,” he denied. “It’s almost 4am, Yn. There’s no way I’m letting you out this late. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

Sighing, you accepted defeat without even trying to counter argue, aware his decision was well intended, and you too didn’t feel like facing the gloomy and dangerous streets of Gotham at this hour of the night. So, you just nodded, looking back into the room without moving your feet.

“Can I give you something?” he then questioned. “I mean. Do you want anything? Food, water?” Like clockwork, your stomach roared, making your cheeks go red and a smirk to appear on Jason’s face. “I don’t have much in my pantry, but I can make you a sandwich.”

Standing up, he walked to the kitchen once again, mug in hand being left on the sink. He seemed to move around the small area seamlessly, his bigger size never slowing him down. He opened cabinets, taking out of it a couple of dishes and a bag with a long and crusty baguette. Slicing the bread in half and then open, he set it on the plates, spreading butter on top and fishing for the other ingredients from various parts of the kitchen.

“I’m not a chef, you know,” Jason told you while he fished for the cheese, the ham, the vegetables and something else from the fridge. In normal human arms, they’d probably have fallen due the lack of space, but they all seemed to fit in pretty well in his much larger ones. “But I do enjoy cooking sometimes.”

His whole energy levels seemed to rise, and a sparkle tingled in his eyes. He seems to really enjoy it, you thought, watching the scene unfold from the same spot under the doorframe you were not even two minutes before. He was swift, picking things up and down , left and right, with ease and started constructing a delicious looking late night meal.

With watchful steps, you walked closer, something in you wanting to watch him in action from up close. Too enticed by the way he moved, the way he meticulously cut the tomatoes, a green vegetable, that you didn’t recognize due to your total lack of cooking skills, and the garlic before shoving them on a blender. The noise that proceeded, a disturbance of the silence that reigned on the night, but when it ceased, the smell that spread across the room seemed all worth it.

Continuing his craft, he was swift, picking things up and down with ease, spreading butter on the bread, adding cheese, sliced turkey from the smell of it, and the tomatoes. He grilled it on a pan he had started to heat while he assembled your snacks, and shortly after, placed a plate with the sandwich in front of you on the kitchen island.

“I didn’t know if you liked pesto, so I left it here for you to dip in if you want.” he stated, placing a small bowl with the green sauce he’d blended together earlier.

“Wow,” was all you could manage to say, the sandwich’s look worthy of those pins you’d constantly save on Pintrest but never make it yourself. Picking it up with one hand, you wanted to try it first on its own, your stomach getting louder, apparently aware you were just about to fill it and getting anxious over the masterpiece crafted just before your eyes. “Hmmm,” you hummed loudly, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste, your mouth already watering for one more bite.

You heard Jason’s breathy laugh, and your attention was instantly brought back to him. Supported by his elbows on the marble island, he sat beside you, his side profile a beautiful view from where you stood. He had a smirk on his lips, not smug or annoying or flirtatious like he usually had, but a lighthearted and fun one. One that didn’t drive you insane.

Looking at him, though, side by side with you, after making you a sandwich at almost 4am in the morning, you felt a lump on your throat you could not explain or justify. It was something no one had ever done for you and for some reason you wanted to cry. But you wouldn’t, instead, opting to do the sanest thing anyone could do in your position.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his eyes darting to yours and his eyebrows doing their annoying move and lifting up in question. “For everything. Tonight, especially, but at the hospital too. You were really kind and you didn’t have to do either of those things. So, thank you, really.”

A smile you could not decipher clouded his lips, and his eyes shone with a glint of mischievousness you could not mistake. “Say it again?” he joked, and you had to roll your eyes.

“Jerk.”

“Sounds more like you,” he sneered, finally taking a bite out of his sandwich. He dipped it in the sauce, taking another bite, and you took your time admiring his jaw clenching as he chewed. “But you don’t need to thank me. I hurt you that day and it was the polite thing to do. And I couldn’t just leave you drunk at the party, it didn’t seem right.”

“Why not?” you questioned. “There were many other drunk girls at the party.”

“Yeah, but none of them looked like they didn’t belong there,” he stated, soon regretting letting those words out of his lips. He knew it’d bring out more questions, and he didn’t want to spend his night explaining how you would linger in his head on a daily basis.

“Why not?” If Jason wasn’t so tired, he’d notice you’d felt insulted.

“I don’t mean today,” he said, playing with the sauce with his sandwich. “You were having fun today, but I’ve seen you before…”

“Why?” you insisted impatiently.

“Because people go to parties for either or two things: to have fun with their friends or to find a hookup,” he lifted two of his long fingers to you. “That day, you were clearly alone. You stood to the side all night, not talking to anyone, almost barking at whoever came closer. Option one impossible. And you also weren’t exposing too much skin to fit into the other.”

“I was having fun tonight!” you tried to argue.

“Yeah, but your friend had disappeared. And you were too drunk. I couldn’t leave you there, alone to the wolves,” he concluded, staring deep into your eyes. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.”

He seemed honest. And nice. Actually nice, like, he looked like a decent person, not the one you villainized in your thoughts every day. He was nice, a sweetheart, and a great cook if his sandwich was any indication of what else he could do in a kitchen. It wasn’t supposed to, but it only made you madder at him. You wanted to punch his face while also giving him a kiss. Stop it, Yn, don’t go that far.

You were quiet, not knowing what else to say. Jason decided on not speaking too, buried in his own thoughts, afraid he’d let too much out. Finishing your food, you dipped the bread into the pesto when the intrusive thoughts came over, and for once, you let them win.

“No…” Jason gasped when he felt the cold sauce on his cheek. You let out a good chuckle, looking at the green stain on his face. Your masterpiece. But Jason was competitive, he wouldn’t let you win. So, he dipped his own bread in the sauce and tried to do the same as you, but you held his arms to stop him before he could stain yet another one of your shirts. His in this case.

It took all your strength to keep his arms away, your laughter, louder than it had been in a long while, making the job much more difficult. “Jason,” you screamed when he got too close for your liking, but you managed to hold his hand and, to his surprise, took one bite of his weapon.

You really couldn’t stop laughing. Tears formed in your eyes from it, and all Jason could do was shake his head and finish the last bite of his sandwich you’d left for him. He felt good seeing you smile again, laughing even, and he just confirmed it was now one of his favorite sounds. It wasn’t polished, it was loud, fun. Everything you usually weren’t, but proof you could be sometimes, if only you’d allow yourself to let loose.

He waited till you calmed down, taking deep breaths to steady it. Then, you stretched your arms to grab a towel opposite of you on the islands, cleaning your hands before looking back at him. “Here,” you called.

His heart stopped. Your hands going for his chin and pulling his face closer to yours, cleaning the pesto stain you’d left on his cheek. Jason had never seen you from this close, every detail exposed to him. The way you sucked in your cheeks in concentration, as you cleaned his face, your soft touch barely brushing his skin, aware not to give him any type of skin irritation.

From this close, he could get a better glimpse of your lips. How they were plumb from you biting on it, how reddish they were, how soft they looked. He watched them as the tip of your smile briefly lifted up. And then, watched your tongue leaving them wet.

You were aware of closeness too. But you had committed to cleaning the stain, you couldn’t show him any weakness now. Pulling away slowly, you noticed his eyes lingering on your lips, setting your stomach in a spiral. He bit his lips, lifting his eyes to look at yours through his lashes, and your heart nearly stopped. Your breath hitched, and you had to look away.

“Hmm,” you started, avoiding his gaze and himself entirely. “I think I’ll go back to bed, it’s late.”

Something inside Jason dropped, and he felt a weight in his chest. You stood up quickly, and walked back into the bedroom without looking back. Fuck, he wanted to scream, but he had to contain himself. So, he stood up, set the plates on the sink and made his way back to the sofa. The tightness in his jeans making it uncomfortable to walk.

Resting against the door as you closed it, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your heart raced, wanting to break free from your chest, and you felt the warmth rising from within you. Your legs trembled a little, and your mind flew to things you did not wish to think of right now.

You couldn’t give in. You couldn’t. Jason meant trouble, and trouble meant bad things. You couldn’t let yourself fall for it again. You couldn’t invite trouble in, even if it looked as pleasing as he did. He was nice to you tonight because he was polite, but you knew his type well and knew it never ended well. He was just like the others, he’s not perfect, stop it!

A knock on the door broke you from your thoughts, and as if caught doing something bad, you were quick to react to opening it.

“Can I just get some clothes?” Jason asked, heading poking inside. “I just don’t want to sleep in the same clothes from the party.”

Giving him space, you allowed him in. He gave you a weak smile as he pass you, going in the direction of his closet. He indeed was wearing the same outfit from earlier, jeans, and a white shirt you could notice had some green stains on it. Karma.

“I’ve noticed you found my hoodie,” he pointed out while fishing for his pajamas, making your cheeks burn red. You went to apologize, but he was quicker to continue. “You can keep it, if it makes you comfortable.”

He turned back to face you, and you offered him a smile in gratitude. Suddenly mindful of your exposed legs, you tried to hide it with your hands, but you noticed how it only got his attention in that direction. He was about to leave when something made him stop.

“I need a blanket,” he said, running back to the closet. “Just a minute.”Jason was tall, but he seemingly was part of the crew who would hide their blankets on the tallest shelves, so tall that even he couldn’t reach properly. He stretched his arms up, the heels of his feet not touching the floor, and his shirt lifted up just a little. A treat for a very tired Yn to enjoy.

From your position, you caught a sight of his stomach up to his belly button. The toned muscles on the base of his abs made a perfect V shape, pointing downwards to a place you avoided imagining. A few of his tattoos peeked in and out of view as he moved, decorating his skin in drawings you could hardly identify. The thin line of hair going down the cherry on top of this tempting monstrosity.

Through his white t-shirt, you spotted the silhouette of his  back muscles. Well defined, well designed, strong enough to carry two of you up the stairs, and wide enough making it the perfect canvas to be painted by your nails.

You knew your mind was traveling through a very dangerous territory. You knew where it was going. You knew the consequences, yet you wanted it. You wanted the danger, you wanted the consequence. Just this once. Just this once you wanted the bad, the naughty, the dangerous. You wanted Jason. You wanted him. You wanted him.

Fuck, you wanted to scream. Run at him, kiss him. Kiss up the hair line on his stomach, up his abs, his chest. Damn it!

You didn’t notice him moving, wishing you a good night, walking to the door. You didn’t notice any of it. Didn’t notice his intoxicating smell leaving the room, because you knew your mind could make it up pretty quickly. Filling your nose with his inexistent scent. His shadow looming around you, with you at all times.

“Yn,” he broke you from your thoughts. He was worried. You stood still before the bed, not moving since he walked past you, not even your eyes following him along, or moving somewhere else. He’d called you before, but you hadn’t noticed. “Are you alright?”

He’d walked back in, closer to you. Approaching you worriedly, your breathing heavy, eyes now lingering on him. He couldn’t decipher them. They were darker, darker than he’d ever seen them. They hid something, something he couldn’t figure out.

“Yeah,” you breathed out a reply. “I’m fine,” you confirmed, arm extending to touch his chest. Jason’s breath got caught on his throat, and when he looked back at you, he found your eyes, and finally could decipher them. “I’m really fine.”

Sliding your hands from his chest up to his neck, you brought him closer, slamming your lips against his. A shiver climbed up your spine as you felt his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, and yours soon fought with him for dominance.

You couldn’t explain it. It just fit. He kissed you hungrily, like he’d been wanting it for long, and you replied with the same ferociousness, wanting him closer, more and more. You fingers tugged at the little hairs at the nape of his neck, and he moaned inside your mouth, the vibration reverberating through your entire body.

His hands roamed your skin. Squeezing your ass, caressing your back from underneath his hoodie. The feeling of his hands around you waking the little hairs on your body wherever they touched, leaving behind a burning sensation, a need for more of his touch all over body.

Stumbling, you two took a few footsteps backwards, feeling the ends of the bed hit your calves. He carefully lowered you on top of it, not breaking your kiss until you were left out of breath. When you two finally broke apart, he took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head, exposing you to the tattoos you’d had a hard time identifying earlier.

An angel falling graced his left ribs, while something was written underneath his right boob. Overwall, you couldn’t count how many were there, you just knew they made him sexier and your cunt ache harder for him. Lifting yourself up a little, you pulled him back to you by the hem of his jeans, your mouths meeting soon after, afraid that if you had too much time to think about it, your mind would force you to stop whatever the hell this was.

On top of you, lips glued to yours, Jason started grinding his crotch against your clothed core, feeling his hardness through the harsh fabric of his jeans and only eliciting your arousal. Trapping your legs around his waist, you bent your back so you could reach him further, grinding yourself against him in a clothed love making session.

You wanted more. You need more. Desperately wanting him in. It was a wild, primal feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in ages. Or ever at all. You needed him, like you needed air. You needed his tongue all over you, not just on your lips or occasionally traveling to your neck.

His hands slid underneath your shirt, and he broke the kiss to ask you for permission to take it off. His eyes looked at you with a mix of lust and something else, something softer. With a nod, he swiftly had both your shirt and his hoodie thrown off somewhere in his bedroom. 

You didn’t want to waste more time, sliding your underwear off too as soon as your breasts were freed, finding yourself fully exposed to the guy that just a few hours ago you would rather find dead than in his bed. 

Seeing you rush your underwear off, Jason had to stop and admire. Admire your body and all your curves. Your bare chest, your hard nipples, a sight Jason wanted pictured in his mind forever.

He wanted to remember how your excitement dripped off your thighs, its smell reaching his nose, intoxicating him. Driving him crazier for you than he already was. He really wanted to rip his pants off and fuck you right then and there. Slam his dick into you until he had you screaming out his name for the whole neighborhood to hear. But he also wanted to devour you little by little, taste every corner of your skin.

Pulling you closer from under the knee, he spread you open and fell on top of you again, resuming the action on your lips before moving his kisses down your neck and to your chest. He made sure to leave marks wherever he’d go. He made sure to bite, to suck on your skin until little red and purple stains decorated you instead of your shirt.

His hand, once holding tightly at your waist, found its way down too. Sliding to your arousal, he felt his fingers drench wet as they reached your soaked pussy. Finding you like that, so wet from just his kisses and touches, boosted his ego, giving him extra confidence he could do to you whatever he wanted.

Pushing one finger into you, he felt your body jolt up. He laughed against your skin as his mouth finally found its way to your breasts. He fucked you with one finger while sucking harshly at your nipples. You moaned loud, already feeling a tightness forming on your belly, that sweet but painful sensation you hadn’t felt in a while.

When he pushed another finger inside of you, speeding up his movements in and out while his thumb managed to somehow rub at your clit till it ached, it didn’t take long for you to see black spots in your sight. It did take long for your back to arch up, a muffled scream leaving your lung.

Nibbling at your nipple still, Jason took your moans and screams as motivation. He laughed as you came as if you were just a prey he was playing with, mocking your petite, fragile frame underneath him. Slapping your cunt, he moved his mouth to quickly play with your neglected boob before his tongue drew a line from between your breasts to the entrance to your core.

You could already feel your breath leaving your lungs, your mind half numb from your orgasm and tiredness. His breath hit your folds, as he pecked his way down to your entrance, licking from your ass to your clit, as you had to put a hand over your mouth to stop your screams.

Like a thirsty dog, Jason licked you up and down between your lower lips. His whole mouth stuffed on your vagina, enjoying your sweet taste filling his taste buds. You squirmed from the sensasion, so much he had to pin you down with his strong arms. You tried to push his head away, tug on his hair, anything to make him stop, already aching down there. But it also felt good, and you could feel another orgasm growing inside you.

However, he removed his face from your cunt as soon as he felt you were about to come. He was enjoying torturing you, making you weak to his touch. He wasn’t going to give in much easier, but he also needed to feel you. Feel you around him, sucking him dry till he himself was left just a moaning mess.

Fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants, he managed them down his legs, pulling with them his boxers, letting his hard penis hit against his stomach. You let out a gasp when you saw his erection, already knowing it was going to hurt but be so worth it. He was thick, probably the size of your hands around it, and just long enough.

Jason looked around, trying to remember where he’d last put his condoms on, before your voice void his mind of any coherent thought.

“Fuck me, Jason,” you begged, hands reach to touch his dick. “Please, fuck me.”

“Fuuuck,” he let out a loud and prolonged groan, forgetting everything and placing himself at your entrance. He pushed the tip in, getting a painful moan out of you. You were tight, but he was going to make himself fit. 

Collecting your juices, he rubbed it along his shaft, pressing himself in ever so slowly. As he entered, you molded yourself perfectly around him, taking him in entirely eventually. He let you adjust, allowing you to get used to his size. Lowering down, he pulled you into another kiss. This time, deeper, slower, hotter.

He started with slow thrusts, moving out entirely before placing himself back in. You moaned and your body jumped every time he moved. His low groans on your ear making you wetter, and his speed started to pick up. 

The sound of skin hitting skin getting louder, filling the room along the strong smell of your sinful act. The bed creaked and hit against the wall along with Jason’s thrusts. He started to gain more and more speed, taking one of your legs and placing it on his shoulder.

He modded as the action gave him more access to your cunt, speed going so fast your boobs bounced up and down vigorously. With the spare had the wasn’t holding your leg up, he reached for your clit and your moans only got louder, screaming Jason’s name like a fucking prayer. Begging for release.

He’d sobered up from the party a long time ago, but he was getting drunk on the sight of your glistening skin, coated in sweat, screaming his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Not rolling out of anger, or annoyance. But because he was making you feel so fucking good you couldn’t control yourself anymore.

Jason felt like a king. Total control over you as you felt your mind go numb, drunk on his cock, drunk on the sensation he was giving you. He moved his hips harshly, slamming against your wet core like a MMA fighter fights his opponent. He felt the growing knot on his abdomen, speeding his thumb’s movements, wanting you to cum along with him.

A few more thrusts had you screaming so loud Jason had to put his hands over your mouth to shut you up, afraid his neighbors wouldn’t enjoy your fucked up symphony. He felt your release hitting his cock and he too released inside of you, feeling your walls clenching around him, milking his ball dry of any cum he had to offer.

The room was now filled with groans and heavy breaths. The air was thick and warm, and the smell of sex sticking to every corner. He pulled out, watching you juices mixed up and dripping off your pussy. Sticking a finger inside, he took some of you mixed orgasm and put it on his tongue. He didn’t lick it, instead just placing it there before lowering himself to give you a kiss, making sure you two got to taste your second late night snack together.

When you pulled away, begging for air, he had his forehead rested on yours. His eyes were closed, and his hair stuck to your forehead from sweat. Something you’d seen many times at the gym, now got a completely new meaning to you. One you enjoyed a lot more, seeing and making it happen.

You too closed your eyes, tiredness weighing your lashes down, as you barely missed Jason’s body falling beside you. You also missed his arms wrapping around your waist, and his face snuggling into your neck. Soon falling into slumber, a delicious ache on your core, as the dream world quickly took over you.

It wasn’t until hours later that the bright sun beams hit your eyes, or the loud noises of Gotham’s traffic found your ears. Eyes taking too long to open, as you woke up more tired than usual. Your body ached in pain, every muscle seemingly sore, but you didn’t remember going to the gym yesterday.

You only remembered you had to work and ended up getting drunk at a party. You remembered getting mad at your parents and deciding you had to release all your anger doing something they’d despise. You remembered your gym enemy taking you home. To his or mine? You wondered, eyes finally opening to the unknown bedroom.

Fuck. Looking behind you, you found Jason’s body spread on the same bed you now laid, and you quickly became aware of your own lack of an outfit. No, no, no. You went too far. You were just supposed to get drunk at a party, not fuck a stranger, Yn. Not fuck fucking Jason!

Carefully removing the duvet off of you, you slipped out of bed and fished for your clothes around his bedroom. Your shirt was tangled on his hoodie you had worn last night, and your panties were thrown on the other side of it. Your bra rested on the bedside table on Jason’s side of the bed, while your jeans were perfectly folded on top of a chair.

You tried to be quiet, to put your clothes back on without making any noise. But your own constant shits and fucks didn’t help your case, and as you buttoned your jeans you heard shuffling on the bed. Jason rubbed his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. “Yn? What are you…”

“THIS IS FUCKED UP!” you screamed, his eyes jolting open at your reaction. “We shouldn’t have done this, Jason.”

“Woah, I didn’t do it alone.” he replied, feeling annoyed at the tone you’d been treating this interaction with.

“We shouldn’t. We…” you wanted to cry, pissed off you’d let yourself sleep with him of all people. Taking your shoes, you rushed out of the room, wanting all of this to be just a silly little memory of a silly little moment when you had lost control.

Opening the door to the living room, you stepped on something that bit your leg in return, a loud hiss forcing your eyes to the black kitten clutched to your leg. Shaking the cat off of you, you proceeded with your run of shame.

“Yn!” Jason screamed after you, but your feet never ceased, and you ran down the stairs. Eyes only jumping up to find him as he stood by the door. The towel you’d cleaned his cheeks with hardly managing to hide his groin. The last sight you got of him haunting you for the days that followed. His sad eyes, frown and pressed closed lips a memory from his heartbreak.

.

.

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[personasintro]

Hi, its me the yapper!! Once again!! 👋👋

I just wanted to clarify something that both you and other commenters seem to have gotten wrong; Whatever I said was incase of the scenario that you’re not feeling the story like you used to, so writing it has taken longer bcs you do not enjoy it as much but you still want to appease the reader. Hence the unwanted suggestions I made.

In my point of view, it seemed that way so I thought it was inevitable that you one day drop the fic because yes we’re getting older and busier and we drift away from things we loved. Thats why I said “is it really that serious?” because you obviously seem willing to keep writing but the wait has gotten so long that it looks like you’re doing it out of obligation(?!).

Looks like I misjudged and I apologise if thats not the case. But it came out of genuine curiosity because I just cant comprehend such long wait. Thats a me problem ig🤷‍♀️

So what I got out of your response is that yes we might/will see the end of mh in like 1-2 years? (more or less)I get that I sound bitter but I promise I am NOT lmao its pure curiosity I promise!!!

Ps to people who said that that was uncalled for or that its serious to me otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered; As I said I am an avid reader of mh so after a reread I thought I could share my thoughts? Like its genuinely not that serious even to me, I didn’t think twice before sending the ask I did it just because the thought crossed my mind. And l believe the whole waiting thing is a fact, so people’s opinions on it are very much called for?

Is it any of our business how long mimi takes to write? No🙂‍↔️. Are we as readers entitled to an opinion as long as we’re respectful? I’d like to think yes🙂‍↕️

Anywayss have a good one yall

i understood what you meant in your previous ask. and i still stand by what i said many times before – i do not hold here anyone against their will and if anyone feels like they're getting older and lose an interest in any of my stories, that's okay and it's their decision to make. i can't be responsible for everyone's feelings of how they feel about this exact situation. that's beyond my control and you're all free to feel however you want. i do wish people would be more understanding and respectful and that's why i said that no one knows what someone goes through. just because i'm no longer totally open about what's going on in my life, doesn't mean i don't care about my stories.

i'm not writing out of obligation. sure, i do feel a certain responsibility to make mh my priority even more than ever, but it's not an obligation. and i wouldn't just drop the story. i said this too, i'll finish this story whether it's for myself or for everyone else as well.

i said this many times before too – i'm in a position where i write whenever i can and want. i do not have any schedule, actually i never had one – but readers were used to more frequent updates and now, of course it's harder to get used to less frequent updates. but that's just life. i apologized when i never had to. my plans was always to finish mh asap (still is) but sometimes things don't go as planned and there are things i don't even have control of.

i respect your opinion and i'm merely explaining myself on this, hope it can be taken with respect and understanding as well!

have a good day everyone ☀️

[twilightmalachite]

Esu Sagiri - Idol Story 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Esu, Subaru

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Hehehe… But you know, even though I was crying like an idiot just by watching… You were smiling up until the very end and did your job perfectly as an idol, Senpai."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Spring

Location: Cemetery

Second year of ES’ establishment. At a secret cemetery somewhere in Tokyo…

Subaru: (Dad.)

(I’m sorry I visited you so late this year as well.)

(I’m getting busier and busier year after year, you know? Although in Trickstar’s case, it’s more like there’s no leisure for the poor...)

(You wouldn't angry at that, would you though, Dad? ‘Cause you were much busier than I was, day in and day out.)

(Nothing could be done about that, though. You were a super idol who carried the industry on his shoulders, after all.)

(You never gave up, though. You never complained, and on holidays you would even be sure to come back home with a smile on your face just to make your family happy.)

(You sure are amazing, Dad. I’ve always admired you. And I’m now in the same position as you—I’ve become an idol.)

(As time passes, I’ve slowly realized more and more just how amazing a person you were.)

(It made me happy. It made me happy to be able to understand you, Dad.)

(Hey, Dad, I wonder if I’ve become an idol worthy of your praise.)

(If possible, I’d like to have you say “Wow, you’re amazing, Subaru!” if you were alive.)

(And I wish you could ruffle up my hair like I was a dog, just like you used to too, but…)

Esu: NwaaAAAAAAH!?

(thunk)

Subaru: …?

Hmm? Umm, are… you okay…?

Esu: Ah, It's okay, do not mind me! My arms are just outta shape, as it’s been a while since I’ve climbed! I bit off more than I could chew!

I took a dangerous route to get away from this creepy guy, and accidentally slipped from somewhere high—

Esu: —Wait, you’re Akehoshi SubaruuUUU!

Subaru: Yup. Huh, are you a fan of mine?

(This isn’t good. I didn’t really want my fans to know where my dad’s grave was.)

(Although his reputation’s been restored to an extent, there’s still a lot of anti-fans who believe those rumors and consider him the worst idol ever…)

(I don’t want that. What if his grave gets vandalized or something?)

Esu: Oh, no no! It’d be presumptuous for someone like myself to call myself a fan!

Presem… Presim, prisum… Huh, is “presumptuous” correct?!

Subaru: Yep, that’s it.

Esu: Was I right? Got it! Good, good, hip-hooray! I mean, that was very kind of you! This debt of gratitude will not be forgotten even if I am reborn seventeen times over!

Subaru: Seventeen times over, huh? What’s with that oddly specific number?

You’re a strange kid.

Esu: Huh, you think so? I find myself to be normal, though! Maybe I’ve become a little out of touch with the world after having been cooped up for a while?

If I do anything that feels off, do feel free to point anything out! I’ll correct it!

Subaru: Alright. Well to start, it’s looked down upon to cause a ruckus at gravesites.

Esu: You’re right~! My bad! I’ll quiet down! I’m a man who has often been told “You’re so cute when you keep your mouth shut, Esu-kun!” by his inconsiderate classmates!

Subaru: So your name’s Esu, huh?

Esu: Yes! I am Sagiri Esu! My name’s pretty tough to read, or excessively sparkly rather, so it’s okay if you don’t remember all of it![1]

You’re free to just call me something like “Ecchan” or “Sacchan”!

Subaru: Ecchan reminds me of Eichi-senpai. Sagiri—I feel like I might’ve heard “Sagiri” somewhere before…

Esu: Oh, so you recognize it? My father used to be real popular! He was even called a super idol at a point!

Subaru: Ah, that’s right! There was a super idol who showed up sometime between the times of Hokke~Papa—Hidaka Seiya-san and my dad, right?

His name was Sagiri. My dad said that he looked up to him, so I remember.

Esu: Ahaha~, although it was all downhill for him once the next super idol, Akehoshi-senpai’s father, made his appearance.

Subaru: Well, my dad did become the talk of the town for many things, both good and bad… Those from around that time aren’t talked about as much anymore, with Hokke~Papa being an exception.

It’s like it’s all been balled together as a dark past to be forgotten, thanks to all that’s happened.

So I dunno how things are now, but, umm you—Sacchan, what’s your father doing now?

He’s not active anymore… right? I feel I’d know about him if he were active.

Esu: Oh, my father died.

Subaru: …Is that so? Sorry, I didn’t know…

Esu: Nah, if you didn’t know, you didn’t know! He passed away three years ago, and by the time he’d already turned over a new leaf as just an ordinary man.

Just an ordinary man, just with a bit of a nice-looking face.

Could at least look ugly… Wouldn't have to be followed around by that pervert then…

Subaru: Pervert? Had your father been targeted by some weird stalker or something, like mine was…?

Esu: No, no, this pervert has nothing to do with my father’s death. Sorry if I’m being difficult to follow! My communication skills aren’t all too great, after all! Just terrible!

My father died in a plane accident. Just a common—well, it’s not common, but an ordinary accident with nothing to do with idols or anything like that.

I was involved in the accident too, and although I managed to survive, I’ve been in the hospital up until recently. So, I've been in the process of rehabilitation for about six months, as of now.

Subaru: Is that so… I probably wouldn’t have even known three years ago. In the period before I entered high school, I would shut myself away from any and all information.

All of the information that would drift my way… I wouldn’t wanna hear any of it.

Esu: I totally get you~. It feels like anything and everything is an attack on you when your heart is weak, doesn’t it?

Even though nobody in the world probably spares a single thought about you.

Ah, but you’re an idol, Akehoshi-senpai, so tons and tons of people pay attention to you, of course! I was really moved by the SS from two years back![2]

It was like—and sorry if this sounds disrespectful—but your father also passed away… I felt like I could relate with you in some ways.

Like, “Ahh, this person, he’s me.”

Subaru: … …

Esu: At the time, I understood the expression on your face, your voice, everything, as if they were my own—I empathized! I was no longer able to distinguish between you and I!

I was in the hospital, lying in bed watching your performance, and I cried so hard that even the nurses became seriously worried about me.

Esu: Hehehe… But you know, even though I was crying like an idiot just by watching…

You were smiling up until the very end and did your job perfectly as an idol, Senpai. So, I thought you were real amazing—

Esu: Ahh, I can’t find the right words! Hang in there, my vocabulary!

Subaru: It’s okay. I understand you.

Thank you. For watching my performance.

You cried in place of me, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why I didn’t have to show a shameful sight like that upon such an important stage.

So… I know it sounds weird, but thank you. Really.

Esu: Oh no no, I seriously didn’t do anything! I don’t know what to do being shown gratitude like this?!

Oh, shoot!? I hear Fuyume’s voice! He hates exercise and isn’t all that good at it either, but caught up to me through sheer determination…!

I-I’m so sorry, but I gotta go now! It’s over for me if I’m caught!

Subaru: It kinda feels like you’re in danger… Do you need me to hide you?

Esu: Ah, that’s very kind of you, but I’m alright! This is a problem I gotta resolve on my own…!

But if you’d like, do offer some incense at the grave over there, the one decorated with cutesy goods.

That one’s my father’s grave.

Subaru: Right. This cemetery is for those in the industry that need to be kept secret from the general public. Both your father and my dad rest here.

It was through some sort of fate I was able to meet you, and hear your words that made me happy, so… Yeah, I’ll be sure to offer some incense.

Esu: Thanks! I’m sure our fathers are happy too! It doesn’t seem like they were on good terms when they were alive, but everyone becomes a Buddha when they die, right?[3]

I’m sure all those concerns and karma have been thoroughly purified!

—Eek, his voice is getting closer! Maaan, I wanted to have a nice and quiet visit to his grave after all this time!

But, well, I also caused a ruckus for no reason, and disturbed Akehoshi-senpai’s visit to his grave! That makes it sort of a mutual karmic retribution, right!—kinda?

Subaru: It’s fine. My dad always liked it when things were lively.

I’m sure he’s standing beside your father, watching over with a smile on their faces—over us.

[ ☆ ]

story directory

A sparkly name (キラキラネーム) is a term that refers to a recent phenomenon of giving names that are over-extravagant and notably very difficult to read. Esu's name is written with the kanji 笑主, which is both very unrecognizable as a name (it uses the kanji for laugh/smile + the kanji for lord/master), the reading is also very unnatural. The phenomenon is similar to the one where people will name their babies stuff like "Mhackenzeigh" or "Lakynn". Since knowing that 笑主 is read as "Esu" doesn't come instinctively, it would be difficult to remember; hence Esu saying there's no need to remember it all.

Referring to the SS where Trickstar won, back in ! era. If you aren’t aware of what happens to Subaru and Trickstar during the event, I highly recommend reading SS - Friendship 14 until the end of the event story, else this entire scene won’t make as much sense.

Esu uses a lot of Buddhist terminology here. If you’re familiar with the idea of reaching enlightenment, once you reach enlightenment, you let go of all worldly possessions, realizations, attainments, and achievements. This is what is referred to when one becomes a Buddha.

[aeithalian]

On Apollo and fatal flaws

Vague question for my fellow apollogists out there: what do we think Apollo's fatal flaw is? I write this realizing that, in all five books of the series, all told from Apollo's point of view, we never actually have it explicitly stated, either from Apollo's knowledge and refusal to share (which, strangely, seems to me like something he would tell us), or from him not actually knowing, either.

Simply stated, a fatal flaw is any kind of weakness of a hero, god or mortal, that can be exploited and can cause the downfall of that character. That being said, we already know some that generally scope out the larger range of what they can be:

Percy: excessive personal loyalty

Annabeth: hubris/pride

Nico: holding grudges

Thalia: ambition

Leo: feeling inferior

Piper: low self-esteem

Luke: wrath

Jason: hesitation and excessive deliberation

And we are certain that immortals have flaws like these, too. Although it isn't explicitly stated in canon what Zeus' fatal flaw is, it's exceedingly obvious that it's paranoia and hunger for power, as well as his sexual infidelity.

I feel like we can easily knock some flaws off the list already:

Holding grudges is off the list for the main reason that, if there's one thing Apollo oozes, it's forgiveness, and the fact that he is always ready to give second chances to people who have wronged him and the world (Lityerses, Luguselwa, Meg, etc.)

For the same reason, I'm going to knock off wrath. Yes, he has moments of rage, but so does everybody else! It's human nature, and, as stated before, it's usually overshadowed by Apollo's choice to let go of that anger and choose forgiveness instead.

Ambition is an interesting one, but it's not at all something that really comes up in the series to the point where it ends up being powerful enough to be his fatal flaw. He rarely seeks power he didn't already have before, especially when you consider he is Zeus' most powerful son, and one of the most powerful gods period. Why would he need more power? Unless, of course, you choose to point out that one time he tried to overthrow Zeus, but I'd argue he was acting more out of a place of 'hey please be better at your job' than 'I want your title and position', which actually falls more under Poseidon's motivations in that myth.

Interestingly, there's a certain aspect of Apollo's character in the myths that totally screws the pooch in terms of this discussion, and that's the fact that Apollo, throughout the stories of Ancient Greece, is a typical example of perfection. Literally, he's written to be virtually flawless, the paragon of young men, and (in the context of Ancient Greek culture) doesn't have many moments of rage, selfishness, or paranoia, or at least, not as many as other gods (looking at you, Artemis).

HOWEVER, as much as the myths seemingly act like he doesn't have a glaringly obvious flaw, we as a part of Apollo's inner circle/audience know he's got one - I mean, look at him! It's in there somewhere, nobody's perfect, and I don't think anybody's pretending as such for Apollo. What irks me is that we know Apollo is not lacking in general character flaws, but there is one, beyond a doubt, that shapes his inner core irreversibly. And we don't know it.

Thankfully, though, we've got five books of content that might help us come to a conclusion.

The Hidden Oracle, being the beginning of the story and the beginning of Apollo's character development, is where we would get an inkling of what Apollo wants us to think his fatal flaw is. To us, Apollo appears vain, self-centered, and, frankly annoying. And he does these things on purpose. Or at least, he tells us these things.

That's the thing: if you look past all the fluff Apollo spits out to the audience throughout the first majority of the book, before his children are taken into the forest, you'd find that his dialogue, aka how the other characters of the story hear and see him, doesn't really reflect that. Most of the annoying, self-centered brattiness is only on the page, and not as obvious in his personal interactions (not saying they're not there, but it's so much worse in his internal monologue). So, what does this tell us?

That those aren't his fatal flaws. He's very good at pretending that they are, probably because, as I've read several other metas very cleverly explain, that this is what gods are supposed to be, and, Apollo, in his desperation be his father's golden child again (or, also to avoid his wrath, take that how you will) has built up a very elaborate mask for thousands of years, because that is what he is not. He's trying to be glossed over in the vast sea that is the gods, and it's not really working because, well, he got turned into a mortal. Again.

As we pass through books 2 and 3, we're still not quite past the whole "pretending to be petty and self-serving because this is what I am supposed to be as dictated by the laws of my immortal people and my father". That, almost certainly, doesn't come until the latter half of The Burning Maze. So it's further safe to assume that our best guess as to his fatal flaw probably coincides with his more honest moments with the audience, eg. books 4 and 5.

Now, I know a popular common answer to this whole question is that it's his ego and his pride. But here's the thing: as we move on to the second half of the series, we get an interesting revealing of Apollo's perception of himself. To put it plainly: Apollo is not a narcissist, as much as he pretends to be (see the above points). Honestly, he might actually hate himself and what he's become as he learns to take a more critical view of himself as the series goes on. Drawn in direct antithesis to his moments in the first two books, when he tells us that he assumes that anybody he meets is willing to help him, after the peak of his development (marked by his promise and Jason's subsequent death), this isn't the case. That's why I'm pretty okay with putting pride and ego towards the bottom of my list of possible fatal flaws for him.

Honestly, if I didn't know any better as we reach the end of the series, I'd say Apollo's fatal flaw might fall somewhere closer to poor self-esteem, insecurity and self-doubt, but for some reason, that doesn't quite fit. I'd argue that a lot of those feelings probably stem from being stuck in the inadequate body of a mortal with a tiny fraction of his usual power - of course he's going to feel like that. That, and it's almost the direct opposite of what his flaw is perceived to be by other sources, so it feels like too large a leap to me.

I'm deliberating from my point, which is this: I still have no clue what his fatal flaw is.

It's not:

narcissism

pride

OR on the other side of the spectrum:

low-self esteem

self-doubt

OR the list of things we knocked off earlier:

holding grudges

wrath

ambition

And when you compare to other characters he might also be like, I would argue he's a totally different animal. The only character I could see a similarity with is Percy. But, again, it's just not the same. Percy's flaw, excessive personal loyalty, still doesn't really fit because, while I'd argue that Apollo's never really put in a situation where he's had to choose to save the life a mortal friend over his task of restoring the Oracles, I do believe he has a strong sense of duty. No, I don't think he would sacrifice Meg's life to do that job, but it's not something we see him forced to pick between (that I can think of, at least). I like to think that, on one hand, Percy would flat-out refuse to do his duty to save the life of a friend out of principle, whereas Apollo might find a clever loophole to save the friend, do the duty, and end up doing harm to himself. If anything, while Percy would be ready to burn the world to save a friend, Apollo would be ready to burn himself first.

That, I think, is our biggest indicator. Apollo loves his friends and the world. He wears his heart on his sleeve, this is something the Triumvirate exploits to no end.

Athena tells Percy something in the PJO series (the Titan's Curse, I think?) and says that the most dangerous fatal flaws are the ones that are good in moderation. And, of course, Apollo is a main character, so naturally his fatal flaw will fall under this category.

I think Apollo's fatal flaw is of the same breed as Percy's, but isn't really the same creature. I'm sure there's a more eloquent way to put this, but it seems to me that his fatal flaw has something to do with his tendency to be self-sacrificing, easily forgiving, and empathetic. He's been stabbed in the back several times and every time chooses instead to show trust and camaraderie, to see the best in people, and give them another chance to prove themselves: with Meg, Crest, Lityerses, Luguselwa, Meg's adoptive siblings, and many, many more. That seems very dangerous in the wrong situation, yes? Especially someone in Apollo's position - there are plenty of bad people who would be ready to take advantage of this.

And what is a story if not the hero learning to overcome their fatal flaw? And, really what is the Trials of Apollo all about? How do we end? What choices does Apollo make for the future at the conclusion of the Tower of Nero that directly contradict his overwhelming urge to choose forgiveness and let others try again?

The Tower of Nero, Chapter 36

At the end of any good epic story, the hero learns to overcome their weaknesses and flaws and do the right thing regardless. For Apollo, this comes when he refuses to forgive one person: Zeus. Apollo ends his pentalogy with coming to an understanding of himself and his relationship with his father, learning to overcome that tendency see the best in everyone, and realize that not everyone can choose to change for the better like Apollo has.

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

[lokavisi]

So about two nights ago, I had a really solid conversation with Loki. A friend got some cues from him through their pendulum, we were both very confused, and then my wife (who barely gives a shit about the Guy lol) interprets this message so pristinely. It was like getting slapped upside the head when she gave her explanation. So I started free writing to continue the conversation more directly with Loki. There were a few big points made in this conversation.

First, he expressed frustration that, in spite of working with him for 4 years now, I still don't seem to "get" him. Like I keep coming to him to vent about some bullshit that's winding me up, he offers a suggestion to help me unwind, and then I brush it off or forget or just straight up ignore it. So he was like, "I've been telling you the same shit for 4 years now... It feels like you're just fundamentally ignoring all the parts of me that make me, ME." So...naturally I felt really fucking stupid and shitty.

Then he very lovingly affirmed that "this isn't me being facetious or angry or trying to put you down. I'm frustrated and irritated, yes, but surely you do realize by now that I fucking love you and you're stuck with me." This meant a lot to me more so than it might for others because my ADHD comes with mad rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Any time anyone says something that indicates some level of upset at me, my brain catastrophizes and breaks down because "clearly" it means they hate me. (This is basically never the case.) This leads me to the primary nugget of wisdom that came from this conversation.

I realized this whole time (once my wife interpreted the initial message) I was hearing him more clearly than I had in a long time. It was nearly as if a physical person sat next to me speaking. As the conversation was wrapping up, I made a note of this and asked, "Why do I feel l hear you clearest when you're frustrated with me?" We've had plenty of similar conversations, and when I look back at past moments when I simply couldn't deny the messages were coming from outside myself, he usually had some level of frustration with me. But to answer my question, he said:

"Because that's all you wanna hear. That's all you think you deserve. Even when you seek love or comfort and I provide, you don't always fully receive it. I try to be funny to cheer you up and you won't have it, just calling me stupid. You are terrible at receiving input that doesn't put you down or reinforce any negative thoughts you believe about yourself. So stop it. Seriously. Fucking stop believing bad shit about yourself."

He went on to talk about the rune readings I did for a bunch you on here (thanks again for the practice❤️), and how I should be pumping myself up from all the positive feedback I got from it. And we exchanged some jokes and "I love you"'s before calling it a night.

As per usual, I share my story in a giant block of text to remind everyone of what Loki reminded me: to not just take in the messaging that supports a negative view of yourself. Allow yourself to believe that you are the gods' gift to humanity. (I just heard him say, "Seriously. I do it all the time. It works wonders for your self-esteem." 😂❤️) Maybe that verbage doesn't have the greatest connotations, but the point is to think more highly of yourself. Believe in the power and confidence that you possess. Even if it doesn't feel like you have either of these things, fake it til you make it - until you realize they've been here this whole time.

I'm on this struggle bus, too, y'all. We're gonna find ourselves together. Hail Loki ❤️

[reel-fear]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Ten

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Hello!

I'm getting to the end of my twelve Pedro boys, only two more to visit the bakery after this one! I'll be sad to see them go, it's been a lot of fun writing all these meet cutes in the same setting and exploring their different voices and personalities. But it's not over yet, so please enjoy this sweetheart.

Your little bakery has two large windows out onto the street, and it gives you a good view of people walking by, especially when the bakery is quiet. This Friday morning you’re on your own in the shop, working on decorating a cake for a naming ceremony. Having an elaborate cake out on the counter, decorating it as people walk past, is good marketing you’ve realized. And it makes for excellent people watching as you straighten up from your hunched up position and stretch your back. 

This morning, from the corner of your eye, as you put your arms over your head and crack your neck, you spot a man you’re sure you’ve already seen hanging around outside the window for some a while. He’s walked past a few times and now he’s nervously hovering around the front door, glancing in through the window. As you spot him, his face breaks into a bright smile, lighting up his eyes and he raises his hand in a wave. Pointing at the door he mouths ‘Can I come in?’, his face even brighter when you nod. It’s impossible to not smile back at him, you feel your mood lifting just as by him coming in through the front door. 

“Hello, you are already open?” he asks as the door closes behind him and he comes up to the counter, still looking a bit uncertain but giving you a wide smile. There’s an accent to his voice, Italian you think, or maybe Spanish, and his caramel colored curls are perfectly swept back from his friendly face, perfectly matching the expensive looking red shirt he’s wearing. 

“Officially not until eight, but since I’m here, you’re more than welcome in,” you smile at him and wipe your hands free from the icing you’re working with. He gives you a worried frown, half turning back to the door as if to leave. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, if you’re not open yet I won’t disturb you,” he says, “I don’t want to interrupt your beautiful work.” 

“No, no, please come in, you’re not interrupting,” you say, waving him forward again, “I need a break, my hands get tired doing this for too long.”  

You smile at him as he comes up to the counter and looks at the cake you’re working on, “What can I help you with?” 

“I was intrigued by the decorations on the cake, they are real flowers?” he asks, pointing at the delicate daisy you’ve just attached to a section of the cake. 

“No, they’re made with sugar,” you explain, “I make them separately and then attach them to the cake.” 

“They look real to me,” he says with wide eyes as he leans forward and looks closer at the daisy chain trailing across the cake, “you’re a true artist, they are incredible.” 

“Thank you,” you smile. You know your sugar flowers always impress people but you never tire of hearing it. The fiddly nature of the work makes them difficult to get just right and you’re proud of your ability to make them almost lifelike. 

“I’m in town for a few days,” the man says, straightening up again and glancing over his shoulder out at the street, “A very boring conference for work, I wanted to take a walk before it starts up again, and I saw your…” he wrinkles his forehead, waving at the bread in the baskets behind you, “I forgot the word in English,” he says apologetically, “your breaderia? No, that doesn’t sound right…” 

“My bakery,” you smile, “What language do you speak?” 

“Spanish,” he replies, his bright brown eyes lighting up as he turns back to you, “It’s panadería in Spanish.” 

“Oh, a breaderia!” you giggle, “That makes sense!” 

“¿Hablas español?” he asks and you shake your head and hold up your thumb and finger half an inch apart. 

“Un poco,” you reply, “I learnt some in high school but I forgot most of it, I only know panadería because well…” you laugh and wave your hand around the bakery and he laughs with you. 

“I’m Javi, by the way,” he says, holding out his hand to you, but you hold your hand up and show him the sticky and colorful sugar stuck to them.

“Nice to meet you, Javi, but if I shake your hand I’ll make a mess. I need to go and clean up,” you say with a smile and nod towards the kitchen, “I’ll be right back, and then I can take your order, if you want to order something, that is.”

“Yes, please, I would love to try everything but I’ll try to choose only one thing,” he chuckles, scanning the display cases as you go back to the sink in the kitchen. When you come back out after a few minutes, Javi gives you an unhappy look. 

“I can’t decide, everything looks too good, you are too talented for my stomach to make it’s mind up.” 

You laugh and walk around the counter and stand next to him, “What’s your favorite flavor? Maybe I can help you narrow it down?”

“I love everything….” he says, “I was always very bad at deciding, when I was a child my cousin would get angry with me for taking too long and then he’d decide for me.” 

“Did he pick what you liked at least?” 

“No, he always picked what he liked so it was a very bad deal for me,” he looks up at you with a grin, “I’m sorry, I must sound like the most pathetic person, I assure you I can make my mind up,” he laughs. 

“You don’t sound pathetic, Javi,” you smile, “but your cousin sounds impatient.”  

“That he is…you have no idea,” he replies and turns back to the rows of baked goods with a shudder. 

“The lemon meringue pie looks very nice, and the carrot cake too,” he mumbles, leaning forward and scanning the cakes again.” 

“What’s your favorite?” you ask, “Maybe I have it, or something like it.” 

“Hmm…” Javi hums, turning back to you and frowning as he considers your question, “I think…my absolute favorite is a small cake I’ve had in Paris many times, with vanilla and rum,” he says, “they’re called canelés, do you know them?” 

“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never had them,” you say, shaking your head and Javi’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline in surprise. 

“You’ve never had them? They are very delicious, caramel and almost crunchy on the outside, creamy vanilla and rum on the inside…” he trails off, the tip of his pink tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip as he salivates and you giggle. 

“You look like you got caught in a daydream, they’re really that good?” 

He nods and grins at you, “They really are, you should make them sometime, I know I would come and buy them all.” 

“Do you know how to make them?” you ask and he shrugs, giving you a small smile. 

“I tried a few times, following a YouTube video at home,” he says, “but I didn’t have the right thing to bake them in…and then I got distracted and…they burnt…” he gives you an embarrassed little grin, “I’m not a very good baker.” 

“Now you've got me curious, Javi,” you laugh, “I need to find a recipe, come on,” you motion him to follow you back into the kitchen where you open your bookshelf, dropping down the desk to show off the rows of baking books neatly lined up. Javi trails in behind you, his smile widening as he sees your book collection. 

“So many books on baking!” he exclaims, coming over to run his fingers along the spines as you look for a specific book. 

“I have more at home,” you say, “these are mainly for more technical recipes that I need to reference. At home I have the ones I use for inspiration when I’m looking for something new to make.” 

You grab a book on French baking and pull it off the shelf, “This one I think has a recipe on canelés.” 

Javi comes to stand next to you as you place it on the desk and open the book’s index. You can smell his cologne as the warmth of his body radiates in the small space between you. He smells…expensive, a rich sandalwood scent laced with citrus and something sweet underneath that tugs at your memory as you inhale. Glancing up at him you’re met by warm brown eyes looking at you with curiosity and a small smile. 

“You…you smell good, Javi,” you stutter out, “I just noticed.” 

His smile curves up and he seems to shrug, shaking off the compliment, “Thank you, you smell good too, I was just thinking, you don’t smell like your bakery at all,” he says, a pink tinge creeping up his neck, “you smell like…” he purses his lips as he thinks for a second, “la toronja?” 

“I don’t know what that is, but I hope it’s a nice smell,” you giggle and he laughs with a nod. 

“I’m sorry, such a bad compliment when I can’t even tell you what it is,” he chuckles. 

“Describe it to me then,” you say, “I’d like to know what it is.”

“Like an orange, but bigger, and not as sweet,” Javi says, holding up his hands to show you the size. 

“Oh, a grapefruit?” you ask and he slaps his forehead. 

“Ah! Yes, a grapefruit, I knew that,” he laughs, “you smell like grapefruit, it’s very nice, you smell very nice.” 

“Thank you, it’s my body wash, it’s grapefruit scented” you smile back at him and then look down at the book again, flipping back to the index, “here, canelés,” you say and turn to the right page and Javi looks down too. 

“Oh, they take three days to make,” you say, skimming the recipe, “the batter has to rest three days in the fridge before it can bake.” You glance back at the clock on the wall, in about half an hour your morning rush will begin, you won’t have time to make the batter now. 

“I’ll have to make the batter this evening and then I can bake them on Monday, but I guess you won’t be in town then?” 

Javi shrugs next to you, “I was thinking of staying and exploring the city a little while, I can stay until Monday.”

“Ok, then I’ll have them for you on Monday afternoon. If you want, we can try them together, fresh from the oven. I'd love to get your opinion on them since I’ve never had them before,” you smile and close the book and turn to go back into the shop. 

Javi clears his throat nervously and stops you. 

“I wonder,” he says, his hands twitching at his sides and he clamps them together in front of himself, “I wonder, if maybe, I can help you in the shop today?” 

“You want to work in the shop?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up into your hairline as Javi gives you a small smile. 

“Yes, it’s nice here, and…you seem very nice,” he says, the pink tinge creeping higher up his neck, “and I would like to learn more about baking and I thought, maybe I could…” he trails off, shaking his head, “never mind, it’s a stupid idea, why would you want me in your way all day. I’ll leave now,” he huffs, and walks past you, into the shop before you find your voice.

“Wait, Javi,” you call after him, hurrying into the shop, “Working in a bakery isn’t very exciting but if you really want to stay, of course you can. I won’t mind, I mean…I think you’re nice too.” 

The smile Javi gives you is blinding, his face lights up as he comes back over to you. 

“You’re sure? You won’t mind?” 

“No, not at all, grab an apron in the back while I open the shop, the morning crowd is about to turn up,” you smile at him and he nods, giving you another excited smile before he grabs one of the clean aprons. 

You flip the sign, put out your street sign and come back to Javi proudly standing behind the counter, but struggling a bit with the knot on his apron. 

“Here, let me help you,” you say, “do the strap like this…” you reach up around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, “if you turn it like this it won’t slip.” With your hands around his neck, adjusting the strap, his soft curls brushing over your wrists as his eyes are on yours, you suddenly notice how still he’s standing, and how close he is. The warmth of him filters through your own apron and shirt, and you can see the rise and fall of his chest where his deep red shirt sits open just in front of your eyes. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles softly and you look up at his eyes. He draws a small breath, holding it for a few seconds as your fingers smooth out the strap around his neck, before slowly exhaling and you watch his lips part. 

When the bell above the door jingles, you jump apart as if fire suddenly erupted, and you quickly turn to the first customer. You immediately recognise the tight gray curls of Mrs Levinson, closing the door behind her and coming over to the counter. 

“Good morning, Mrs Levinson, you’re early today,” you give her your bright customer service smile and beside you Javi mumbles a low ‘Good morning’. 

“Good morning, dear,” the elderly lady says, “and who is this handsome man?” she winks at Javi who stutters over his reply. 

“I’m J-Javi, I’m helping in the bakery today,” he gives Mrs Levinson a nervous smile, “What may I serve you today?” 

“Oh, what a sweet boy,” Mrs Levinson smiles, “and you make such a beautiful couple.” 

You raise your eyebrows and bite back a snort, next to you Javi seems to be choking on something. 

“What can I get you, Mrs Levinson, the usual?” you ask, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back as he finds his composure again. 

“I’d like a dark rye please dear, and six poppy seed bagels,” she replies, “and something sweet for my afternoon coffee too, I think.” She scans the selection and taps the glass, “Give me four of these Millionaire’s shortbread things. Mrs Morales is coming over and she wants to try something new.” 

“Of course,” you say, grabbing a pair of tongs and handing them to Javi, “Put four of them in one of the small boxes, please, and I’ll get Mrs Levinson’s bread.” 

Javi nods and does as instructed, putting the box of shortbread on the counter in front of Mrs Levinson with a bright smile. 

“There you go, Mrs Levinson, anything else I may help you with?” 

“No, thank you, my dear, that’s all for now, what do I owe you?” 

You tally up the total on the till and help the old lady count out the money. As you hand her the change she takes a dollar bill and pushes it across the counter to Javi. 

“Such a sweetheart,” she smiles at you, before taking her bag, “Make sure to hang on to him, he’s bound to bring you extra customers.” She gives Javi a wink and makes her way out of the shop. You barely hold your laughter inside until the door has closed behind her and you turn to Javi, who’s grinning widely with pink cheeks.  

“Well, now you know Mrs Levinson,” you laugh and he chuckles. 

“Now I know Mrs Levinson,” he nods, fanning himself with his hands, making you giggle at his expression, “Are all your customers so…forward?” 

“Thankfully, no, only Mrs Levinson and her crew,” you grin, ”I hope she didn’t scare you off, do you still want to stay here today?” 

“Yes, please, I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of being called a ‘sweetheart’ but nice old ladies,” he laughs and you giggle again.

“Alright then, I’ll let you handle all my elderly ladies, they’re going to love you, Javi,” you say, moving behind him to turn on the espresso machine, “Do you want a coffee?” 

The day passes quickly with Javi’s company, even when the shop quietens down in the afternoon he keeps your mind occupied with questions about your favorite movies while you prepare the batter for the canéles. The bakery fills with the rich vanilla scent as you cut the pod and scrape the seeds into the batter. 

“I can’t believe I never thought about that!” you exclaim as Javi laughs, “But you’re totally right, Indiana Jones only helped them find it faster, his actions have no real impact on the entire movie!” 

“I had to rewatch ‘Raiders’ so many times to make sure,” Javi grins, “I couldn’t believe it either, but he really does nothing that stops them from getting the Ark.” 

“So crazy, I can’t believe I never thought about that,” you say as you reach up to grab the rum bottle from your liquor storage. 

“Santa Teresa,” Javi says, nodding his approval, “That’s what my father always drank, you’ve got good taste, and expensive rum.” 

“Only the best for my cakes,” you smile, measuring out three tablespoons and one extra for luck. Behind you Javi is rummaging around, looking for something and he’s grinning when he comes up to you with two glasses. 

“It’s too good to only go into cakes, let’s drink some, to celebrate my new career as a baker,” he says with a bright smile that makes it impossible to not smile back at him. 

“A great idea, but I’ve got better glasses in the shop, follow me, and grab the bottle, Javi,” you say, taking his hand and pulling him with you back out to the shop. 

“Here, these are better,” you say, handing him your nice glasses, “do the honors.” 

You jump up on the counter as Javi pours the drinks, handing you a glass of the dark liquid and you take it, holding it up to him. 

“To the best shop assistant I’ve ever had, with endless film knowledge, fantastic customer service skills and all around great guy.” You clink your glass with Javi’s and a pink blush creeps up his neck again as he takes a sip. 

“Thanks,” he smiles, leaning on the counter on the other side, smacking his lips at the flavor of the dark rum, “I had fun, and now I know a lot about running a bakery.” He gives you another warm smile, lifting his glass in a salute to you again, and you both sip slowly, the rum sliding down smooth and warm into your chest. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be at a conference today?” you ask, suddenly remembering that he’d mentioned something about it this morning when he first came in.

“Yes, but who cares?” he shrugs with a sheepish grin, “I’m sure no one will miss me, and this was much more enjoyable,” Javi gives you one of his warm smiles, his bright eyes softening as you smile back at him. 

“Did you really like working here today?” you ask and he nods. 

“Truly, I had more fun today than I’ve had at work in a long time,” he says, coming to stand next to you. 

He’s so tall, almost level with you up on the counter as your eyes meet. You give him a small smile and he smiles back, a deep dimple in his cheek as he absentmindedly runs a hand through his soft curls, not as orderly now as they were this morning. A loose curl falls over his forehead and without thinking, you give in to the temptation you’ve been fighting all day, and reach forward to push it back again. Javi reaches up and catches your hand in his, pulling it down so that he can rub his thumb over your palm, his eyes locked on yours. The tip of his tongue comes out to wet his lips and the movement makes you look down at his lips, Javi takes a slow step closer, his fingers closing around your hand. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his soft voice the only sound in the shop as you look up at him again. There’s a heated look in his eyes suddenly, and as you nod, he bends his head to yours, his hand moving up and gently cupping your cheek. 

The jingle of the bell pulls you apart, both of you looking at the door as Javi steps away from you. 

“Mr Gutierrez, you’re needed back at the hotel.” 

The man who’s stepped through the front door is dressed in a driver’s uniform and is looking somewhat exasperated with Javi behind the counter, “Your phone is off and your assistant has been trying to reach you all day.” 

Javi looks back at you and flashes a guilty grin before he looks back at the driver. 

“I’ll be right there, Marco, I’ve just been busy today.” 

“Of course, sir,” the driver gives a curt nod and turns around, the door jingling again as he leaves. 

“I’m sorry,” Javi says, turning back to you, his hand had slipped from your cheek as he stepped back, and you feel the loss of it as a warm imprint on your skin, “It seems I was missed at work after all. I would’ve liked to have stayed here longer, but I have to go.” 

“Of course,” you say, feeling the disappointment creep up as Javi grabs his phone, “It was really nice having you here, Javi.” 

He turns back to you with an uncertain small smile, holding his phone tight in his hand. 

“Can I, I mean, if you want, I’d like to come back…on Monday. To finish the canelés,” he says, his eyebrows bunching up, looking at you with worried eyes. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, excitement bubbling inside you as you see his smile creep back up and he takes a relieved gulp of air. 

“Ok, great! Thank you!” he grins and glances out through the window at his driver who is looking at you both, before he turns back to you, “I’ll see you Monday, ok?” 

“Monday, come by at noon, we’ll bake the canelés together,” you say, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek on impulse. His cologne from this morning still lingers, but it’s mixed with his warm sweat, coffee from a stain on his shirt, and something that must be his own comforting scent. For a split second you fight the urge to lean your head on his shoulder and rest your nose against the soft skin of his neck. Instead you pull back and meet his soft, brown eyes smiling at you. 

“Get going, or your driver will yell at us,” you say, putting your hand on his arm, giving him a little nudge as he chuckles. 

“Yeah, he can be a bit intimidating,” he says and walks around the counter, “Until Monday then.” He waves and disappears out through the door, and you watch as the driver stands to attention and opens the door to the back seat. 

Javi flashes you a smile through the window before he disappears into the car, and you turn back to the kitchen to clean up. 

You’re surprised to see Javi already waiting by the bakery when you turn up a quarter to twelve on Monday and flip on the lights inside. He’s sitting on the steps outside the front door, oblivious to you arriving through the back door, and it gives you an opportunity to study him as you walk across the shop. He runs his hand through his hair as you watch, the curls bouncing back and he lightly scratches at his neck before leaning his cheek in his hand. From behind you can see the saffron yellow shirt he’s wearing stretch tight across his broad shoulders, the bunched muscles a sharp contrast to the softness of his features. 

You lightly tap the window in the door and Javi turns around, his face already bright as you give him a wave. Unlocking the door you let him in as he brushes down the seat of his pants. 

“Hi,” you say, taking a step back to let him get past you before you lock up again, “You’re early, I hope you didn’t wait long.” 

“Hi,” he replies, shaking his head, “No, just a few minutes, I was too eager so I left the hotel early and walked here.” 

He’s standing in front of you, a small smile toying with the corner of his mouth and you’re suddenly reminded of where you’d been interrupted on Friday. Shyness takes over and you quickly take his hand. 

“Come on, we’ve got baking to do,” you say as you pull him with you towards the kitchen, taking the chance to recompose yourself as he follows behind you. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend,” you hear him muse,  “And not only the canelés,” he adds as you step into the kitchen and let go of his hand, “I had a great time on Friday, I…I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again…if that’s ok to say?” 

You turn back to him, he’s standing in the doorway into the kitchen, a small worry frown between his eyebrows as his fingers twitch nervously by his side, something he seems to do when he’s unsure of himself. You bite your bottom lip, trying to contain the smile that’s threatening to spill over as you look at Javi, taking a few tentative steps back towards him. 

“I’ve been looking forward to it too, Javi,” you give him a shy smile, coming close enough to smell his fresh cologne, to see the smattering of golden freckles on his neck, as you look up at him. Javi sems to let out a deep rush of air, his shoulders sinking several inches, and smiles down at you. 

“No driver this time, Javi,” you whisper, leaning closer and he mimics your movement. 

“No driver,” he echos, and the warmth of his arm presses against your waist as he closes the last few inches between you. You can feel his thumb skim over your cheek when he cups your face, his soft tongue gently running across your lips until you part them, and let him in with a low sigh. His kisses are soft, gentle presses as you melt into him, his arm around your waist holding you close to his chest while your hand finds the curls at the nape of his neck. A low rumble comes from him, groaned into your mouth, as your fingers wrap around the soft strands and lightly tug him closer. 

You hadn’t thought about what to expect from Javi’s kisses, but as soft and affable as he was, you’d never have expected him to kiss you like this. As his initial shyness retreats, his hand on you becomes firm, holding you up against him as he makes you moan into his mouth, pulling back just a fraction to catch his breath before he presses his lips against yours again. His tongue teases you as he nips on your bottom lip, finding news spots to explore. He groans into you as you wind your fingers around his soft strands of hair, returning his nips by gently biting down on his plush bottom lip and he rewards you with a downright sinful moan, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer. 

You couldn’t say how much time passes, you catch your breath in small gasps between clamant kisses, heat rising between you, the pebbled skin on his neck looking almost too tempting as you pull back a little again. You run your fingertips over his skin, tracing down from his jaw, over his smattering of freckles, Javi shuddering under your touch as he opens his eyes and looks down at you with hooded lids. 

“Even better than I imagined,” he mumbles, his eyes drifting closed again as you kiss a particularly sweet looking cluster of freckles on his throat, your tongue coming out to taste his skin. 

“You too, Javi,” you whisper in reply, looking up at him and he opens his eyes again, smiling now in that soft way that makes you think of a sweet puppy, his dark brown eyes gentle and tender. 

Running the pad of your index finger over his cushy bottom lip, giggling as he playful tries to nip at it, you smile back at him. 

“Should we make those canelés maybe? They have to bake for about an hour,” you say, “We’ll have time for more of this,” and Javi nods, carefully untangling himself from you, his warm arm leaving your waist. 

“I agree, let's make them quickly and then get back to this,” he grins, “Where is the batter? And what do you want me to do?” 

You reach up and give him a quick kiss on the mouth, smiling at his eagerness, “First we need to grease the molds,” you say, pulling him with you towards the shelf full of different baking pans, “We need these, I got them over the weekend,” you take down six copper molds, “and beeswax.” 

“Beeswax?” Javi asks, taking the molds from you as you open the fridge to get the wax. 

“Yeah, traditionally they’re greased with beeswax to really caramelize the outside of the canelés and stop them from sticking,” you explain, unwrapping the small cube of food grade wax, “Wash your hands and I’ll show you how to do it.” 

Melting together the butter and wax is quick work and then you show Javi how to brush the inside of the molds with the mixture as you fill up the ones he’s finished. The batter smells richly of rum and vanilla and Javi inhales deeply and leans down to kiss you. 

“You are so clever, they smell delicious,” he hums, stealing another kiss, “and they’re not even baked yet.” 

“Thank you, Javi,” you smile into his third kiss as he nips at your bottom lip again, “but they’ll be better baked, come on,” laughing you gently push him off you and he gives you a mischievous grin.  

He helps you prep a tray and then you place the molds on it and put the whole thing in the oven, setting a timer. Javi pulls your back into his chest as soon as you close the oven door, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Now, more time for this,” he mutters, dropping his chin onto your shoulder and pressing a kiss just under your ear. 

“More time for this,” you mumble your agreement, turning your head so that the cool tip of his nose rests against your throat. You can feel his warm breath on your skin, the smell of the vanilla and rum in the kitchen, the low hum of the hot air oven and Javi’s lips as he moves them over your skin. It all blends together into a rosy haze, your eyes slipping closed as you reach up and caress his curls. Javi mumbles something in Spanish that you don’t catch, your brain going sluggish under the feeling of his wet mouth trailing over every inch of skin he can reach. Somewhere in the back of your head you’re wondering how you’ll be able to handle an hour of this and not end up on the floor with him on top, the sizeable hard length that you can feel pressed against the back of your thigh right now, sliding in- 

The gentle melody of Javi’s phone signal cuts through your train of thought, making you snap your eyes open and Javi lets go of you, fumbling in his pants for the offending item. He gives you an apologetic look as he answers the phone in Spanish. As he speaks you start cleaning up the workbench and Javi moves into the shop. Even though you don’t know enough Spanish to understand what’s going on, you can hear his tone become more and more agitated. Eventually you hear him yell a loud “No!” and the sound of the phone hitting the floor, clearly breaking on impact. You put down the cloth you're holding and slowly go into the shop, Javi is standing in the middle, his phone in two pieces on the floor. 

“Javi?” you ask apprehensively, and he sighs deeply, his shoulders rising up almost to his ears before slumping down, his whole body deflating as he turns to look at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running both his hands through his hair, pushing through it and grabbing hold of the back of his head, his eyebrows pulling together in anguish, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” 

“It’s fine, Javi, I just want to make sure you’re ok, it seems like it was bad news,” you take a few steps closer to him, gently putting your hands on his waist. He sighs again, dropping his arms down to his sides as you slowly run your hands up and down his torso, the yellow shirt bunching under your fingers. Javi groans and drops his forehead onto your shoulder, cursing in Spanish, that much you understand. 

“It’s my stupid cousin, he’s mad I stayed over the weekend, he wants me back in Mallorca as soon as possible, he’s sending someone to ‘fetch me’. Like I’m a child late home from school,” Javi growls and pushes himself up again, looking down at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking anguished, “You don’t need to hear about my horrible cousin and my family problems.” 

“It’s fine, Javi, everyone has family problems sometimes,” you say, still gently stroking his sides, “I can barely stand my dad, we always fight, I wish I had a better relationship with him, but it is what it is."

“I’m sorry for that too,” Javi says, lifting his arms up again and putting them around your neck, one hand gently cupping your face so that he can caress your cheek, his soft hand warm against your skin, “My father passed away a few years ago and my cousin and I took over the family business. I hate it, my cousin loves it, and he bosses me around every chance he gets,” Javi sighs again. 

“He’ll really send someone to come get you?” you ask, “What happens if you say no?” 

Javi just shakes his head, “It’s not as easy as that, unfortunately, the business is…complicated,” he says, his thumb still smoothing over your cheek, he’s tracing the lines of your face, lost in thought. You lean your head against his warm hand, letting him work through whatever is going through his mind until he seems to shake himself out of the reverie. 

“No,” he says, his voice firm again, and he takes your hand, “I’m not going to let that ruin our afternoon.” 

With a small smile he pulls you around and leads you back into the kitchen, “I’m not wasting any more time on that, come here, hermosa, beautiful girl,” he says, pulling you into his chest as he leans against the workbench, “I’m deciding that this is how we spend the rest of the afternoon,” he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you tight, the other one finds its way back to your cheek as he leans in closer, his soft looking pink lips brushing against yours. 

“If that’s alright with you?” he mumbles, his voice suddenly dropping lower, winding its way around your brain and making you shiver. 

“That’s more than alright with me, Javi”, you mumble back at him, your voice low to match his, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel every breath he takes, slipping over your lips. He closes the distance between the two of you, and takes your bottom lip between his own lips, gently tugging at it. He smiles against your mouth, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pull you closer, his tongue teasing the tip of yours. You feel your brain shut down, your eyes closing and the haze returning, all you can think about is Javi’s warm mouth and soft lips as he slowly turns you around so that he has you pressed up against the workbench. 

You don’t end up on the floor, but when the smell of caramelized sugar and butter, the rich aroma of vanilla, pulls you away from Javi, you’re pleased to see that you’ve managed to unbutton several buttons on his shirt. He’s pulled your top up over your chest, his hand leaving warm trails across your torso and he chuckles as you playfully swat his hands away. Your cheeks are flushed and overheating as he chases your lips, trying to hold you closer still. 

“Javi, I think the canelés are done,” you say, giving in and kissing him again, smiling against his eager mouth. Javi groans as if he’s in pain, reaching out to grab onto your hips but you laugh and quickly step out of his reach. 

“Now, now, Javi, let’s not burn these delicious smelling things that we waited three days for,” you tell him, your face teasing him as he follows you over to the oven. The smell of vanilla, butter and rum hits you even stronger as you open the door and slide the tray out. Quickly unmolding them onto a cooling rack, you give Javi a happy grin. 

“They look just like the photo in the book! Do they smell as you remember them?” 

“They smell even better, and they look even better,” Javi muses, crouching down so that he can get a good look at the small golden cakes on the bench. Carefully tapping one of them with his knuckle, he smiles as it has a satisfying hard shell. 

“I guess they have to cool before we eat them?” he asks, looking back up at you. 

“Yeah, they’re way too hot now,” you reply, “but we can make some coffee.”

“Or we can make out,” he says, his hands finding their way up under your top again, pulling you close. 

“Or we can make the coffee and make out?” you suggest, leaning in to press a wet kiss to the skin just under Javi’s ear, the spot that you’ve quickly learned is a favorite of his. You’re rewarded with a shiver, a gentle hum coming from him as he leans his head back to give you better access. 

“Come on,” you laugh, taking his hand and pulling him with you as he protests, “Coffee, then kisses, then canelés.” You grab the plate with the small cakes and lead him into the shop, hitting the on button on your fancy espresso machine.  

Javi leans next to it as you go through the motions, grinding the beans and measuring out the coffee. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, “espresso, cappuccino, latte?” 

“Espresso, please,” he replies, moving to stand behind you while you make it for him, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. 

“You’re so talented, running this bakery, making all these cakes and pie, and then you’re a barista too,” he says, his short neat beard tickling against your neck as he gives you a kiss, “I’d hire you, but I don’t think you’d like my family business.” 

“That’s ok, Javi, I like running my own business,” you smile, giving him his espresso and preparing your own, “It’s a lot of work but I get to decide everything, I don’t think I could have a boss over me again.” 

“Hmm…” Javi hums as he sips the espresso, turning so that he’s leaning against the counter again, “I won’t suggest it now, but if you ever want to open a bakery in Mallorca, near where I live, I could help you.” 

“I think my Spanish needs to improve first,” you laugh, taking your coffee and standing in front of him so that you can enjoy the view you’ve created by unbuttoning most of his shirt. 

“You could always hire me,” he smiles, “I’ll handle the customers, you handle the baking, we’d be a great team.” 

“I’d hire you here in a heartbeat, Javi,” you say, “you were great with the customers.” 

He smiles at that, leaning forward so that you can kiss him, the bittersweet taste of coffee sharp on both your lips. 

“Canelés”, you mumble as his free hand starts to roam up under your top again. 

“I’m not that interested anymore,” Javi smiles, pressed against your lips, and it makes you giggle. 

“We’ve waited for three days, and I’ve never had them,” you say, pulling yourself away from him with a tremendous effort, his lips really are very soft and his palms are so warm against your skin. 

“Ok, ok,” he chuckles, giving in to you as he leans over and picks up one of the canelés in his big hand and holds it out to you, “have a taste, tell me if it was worth the wait.” 

You take a bite, your teeth crunching through the exterior and you gasp as you feel the creamy inside. The cake is still warm, sweet vanilla and rum hitting your palate together with the flavor of caramelized sugar. 

“Oh my god…” you hum, slowly chewing as Javi smiles and puts the rest of it in his mouth and grabs a second one, holding it out to you again, “This is so good, Javi,” you say, swallowing your bite and letting him feed you a second one, “Thank you for getting me to make them.” 

“I’m glad you like them,” he smiles, “they are exceptionally good, not even the place in Paris comes even close to these, fresh out of the oven.” 

You reach behind you for a third one, pulling it apart down the middle to reveal the lacy center, your baker brain kicking in as you study how the batter has created strong gluten strands that criss-cross the inside of the cake, making it creamy rather than bready. 

“Really interesting…” you say, turning it over until Javi's mouth suddenly opens over your fingers and he takes the whole piece in one big bite. 

“Thief!” you exclaim, giving him a mock scolding look as he grins, his cheeks stuffed full of cake, his shoulders jumping as he tries to chew and laugh at the same time. When you pout back at him he grabs the fourth canelé and presents it to you with his deep brown puppy eyes wide open and pleading. 

“Please…he mumbles around his mouthful, “please, accept my apology,” he swallows down the last piece as you open your mouth so that he can feed you a bite. You hum around the flavors again, putting both your hands on Javi’s chest and taking hold of his open shirt. 

“I want apologies in kisses,” you demand, pulling him into you as he grins widely. 

“You wish is my command, princesa,” he replies, coming willingly into your arms. 

“That Spanish I understood,” you mumble, his lips brushing against yours again as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I’m glad, princesa,” he smiles, and lets you pull his mouth against yours. 

The bitter coffee mingles with the sweet vanilla on his breath, and you know he must taste the same on yours. He groans, angeling his face, moving so that he can reach more of you, his tongue gliding against yours as you run your fingers through his soft curls. 

The sharp rap of knuckles on the window startles you both, and you look over Javi’s shoulder towards the front door. It’s the damn driver.

With a sigh you pull back and look up at Javi again, “It’s your driver, I guess you’re being “fetched.” 

Javi glances behind him and groans, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder as he turns back. The driver is looking at you with a neutral expression, nothing betrays what he’s thinking about finding his employer in a heavy make out session inside a bakery. 

“I’m sorry,” Javi says, “I will have to go, or there’ll be hell to pay for me when I get back home,” he gives you a pained look, “I’m really sorry, I wish I could stay here.” 

“It’s ok, Javi, you know where to find me when you’re in town again,” you smile, “just come back soon, ok?” 

Javi nods and pulls out his phone, “Give me your number, I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’m going to try to make canelés at home, and I know I’m going to need your help,” he smiles as you laugh. 

“I’ll make sure you set a timer this time, Javi.” 

You add your number to his cracked phone and hand it back. Javi sighs and looks over his shoulder again, “I should go, he doesn’t like waiting.” 

“Ok,” you say, giving him a small smile as he lifts his hand and strokes your cheek, “come back soon, Javi.” 

“I promise, I will,” he nods, his curls, definitely more unruly now than when he came, bouncing on his head. 

“Oh, wait,” you giggle, “let me button you up, I got a bit carried away,” you smile and quickly do up his yellow shirt, hiding the soft looking, freckled skin again. 

Javi giggles above you as your fingers work your way up, and he grabs your hands as you reach his neck. 

“One more kiss,” he says, “for the road, as they say.” 

You nod as he leans closer, bending his head so that he lips can brush over yours, a last, slow kiss, his tongue coming out to taste yours with a few small licks. 

“Good bye,” he mumbles as he pulls away, holding on to your hand until he has to let go. 

“Safe travels, Javi,” you reply, giving him a small smile. He raises his hand in a last wave and steps out through the door. 

Part Eleven

Please don't be intimidated by this recipe! They are not as tricky as they seem and they can actually be baked in a muffin tin if you have it. I've made these several times and they're really the most delicious little cake!

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Short Stories: My Beloved Best Friend

Yandere Hector Doyle x GN Reader

Very slight Yandere if you squint

For my dear friends @hectordoylesmalewife & @amisalami03

“Look at that outfit… that is a cry for help.” Hector Doyle sipped on his taro bubble tea as he pointed out a ‘medium ugly’ man to (your name) at the mall. “Doesn’t he know neons do not suit his skin tone?”

(Your name) put their chin in their hands to subtly glance over at the target of Doyle’s criticism. He wasn’t wrong about that man’s outfit being horrendous but he didn’t have to be so mean. “It is a terribly match up, but who are we to judge?”

Doyle clicked his tongue and uncrossed his legs. The redhead leaned forward and pouted at (your name). “Well aren’t you just a sweet little thing?” Doyle then gestures to their pastel purple outfit. “Little miss sugar plum fairy.”

“Oh hush, twinker belle.” (Your name) playfully hit his arm, the assassin blushed a bit. “You do actually look nice with red lipstick and that black dress on.”

“Of course I do. I look good in everything.” Doyle haughtily stuck his nose up in the air. “I’m beautiful.”

(Your name) giggled at their best friend. Doyle was such an enigmatic person but for some reason, he opened himself up to them. The two of them were two peas in a pod despite their vastly different personalities.

Doyle was never afraid to say what was on his mind while (your name) kept to themselves.

“As much as I’d love to keep making fun of people’s questionable choices in clothing, I would like to know what you have been up to lately. How did that date go the other day with that painter?” Doyle inquired about (your name)’s love life. The redhead already knew the answer but he still wants to hear it from their point of view. It wasn’t hard to hide a body.

“Well… he never showed.” (Your name) sighed softly with a frown. “I’m starting to think I’m cursed.”

“You have me.” Doyle grabbed their hand and ran his thumb over their knuckles. “I’m always here for you. You can just hangout with me.”

(Your name) smiled brightly at Doyle, his heart stopped for a second. They had no idea how enchanting they were… how they made Doyle’s heart leap in his chest. Of Doyle’s feelings.

“I do don’t I? You’re seriously the best, Doyle.”

Doyle quickly recovered, the man glanced over at a sweets shop in the mall. “How about I treat you to some sweets to cheer you up?”

“If you’re buying it with your own money and not someone else’s.”

“You know I’m a criminal so you can either accept my kindness or I’ll buy myself chocolates and eat them in front of you.” Doyle leaned on his hands and gave (your name) a grin.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh but I would. And I’ll lick my fingers in front of you.” Doyle places his palms flat on the sticky mall table. “Now do you accept my kindness or do you wish to be a voyeur to my voracious appetite for sweets?”

(Your name) sighed, “okay. I accept the exploits of your thievery.”

“Good because I also stole you some bath bombs from lush and a few products from Sephora.”

“You need to be stopped.” (Your name) giggled but Doyle only gave them a grin.

“But then who would take care of you?” The two continued to bicker between giggles and smiles. Doyle’s arm loosely wrapped around their waist. “I’d do anything for you.”

For now he’d accept his position in their life. He could be patient. He will continue to be their beloved best friend until the day (Your name) realized that Doyle was their soulmate. That they were meant to be…

“I’d do anything for you.” Doyle repeated softly to himself as he glanced down at (your name) bright smile. “Anything.”

[rdbrainz]

info post 💪 this one may read a bit stranger than the last one because i just translated the text i initially wrote down in russian (lazy ass) sorry in advance Volto Pirro Ljung Number 3 Zanpakuto: Pazuzu, a rapier twisted into a cone-like shape with golden wings and a skull on its guard Resurrección: Vulture Other: h - 187cm, w - around 84kg, he's not particularly large, but he's also not skinny Status at the end of the story: Alive, location unknown

Volto is the direct personification of someone surrounded by the wrong company. And not so much a company that instills bad habits and opinions, but a company that makes you feel alone. Despite being the number 3, Volto is both an outcast and an integral part of the troupe. He is Pierrot. This is his role, and it's often the subject of jokes and ridicule from the other Arrancar. No theater or circus performance can do without a sad clown because other people's grief is funny. Ljung doesn't share the views of the other members of the troupe about the importance of fun and entertainment in life. He does understand them, because he has been in the same boat as them for hundreds of years now, but he can't find the strength to be content with the same things as others. There is simply nothing to smile about. He has a somewhat nihilistic outlook on life and considers his situation hopeless. But he is still firmly convinced that the seeker will always find either death or answers to his own questions. Only he doesn't know what exactly he should be looking for. As he will realize later - the right people. He clearly understands his position in the group and in this world. He is still here, despite the condescending attitude of others, only because he is useful and there is no point in running away - he has explored Hueco Mundo from high up several times, each time convincing himself even more that there is NOTHING there, and in the human world, he will forever remain a stranger. And there was nothing to do there alone anyway. So Volto simply accepted his fate, smothering the last shreds of hope. He sees his own salvation in fulfilling the troupe's goal, whether it be his own death or world domination. In fact, Volto isn't half as pessimistic as he appears in the story, he's just tired and apathetic due to circumstances. If you strip away all that, you'll find that he has a rather rebellious attitude and a kind, relaxed personality. He's no stranger to emotions and feelings. He's also a cunning son of a bitch and knows a lot about others because he's omnipresent, even though you may not even realize he's around. A moderately cruel but loyal friend. My friend once said he has a hippie vibe and she's probably right. Well, bro is something between a metalhead and a hippie, if we're gonna get into archetypes. Volto is very interested in befriending Ikkon, as they are both loners with untapped talents and potential, but it is to no avail. He constantly follows him around the building whenever the opportunity presents itself and tries to strike up a conversation one way or another. Agreda, as you can imagine, doesn't like that very much. But the two of them have developed a close bond nonetheless.

His ability is to manipulate flesh while absorbing enough of its biomaterial - either the flesh itself or blood. With the living, it is limited in time and effect (plus, the amount he's eaten also plays a role), but with the dead, he can do whatever he wants, up to completely altering the body structure into something completely different - like weapons, wings, or decorative elements. The formation of the troupe was by no means an easy or quick process and "selecting the cast" and establishing the rules of coexistence left behind mountains of corpses, almost all of which Volto got to use. Even now, what remains after his comrades-in-arms falls into his hands. From ones deliberately killed for some peculiarity that would come in handy, to decapitated victims of Ikkon's doings. As time went on, the presence of once-living puppets around him began to take a toll on Volto. No matter how depersonalized he tried to make them, the thought of their origins would not leave him. Activating his Resurrección gives Volto wings with a very large spread and an additional joint that allows him to fold them over his head like a roof. On the back side, they look normal, but on the underside, they are not fully covered in plumage and are full of a large number of strange-looking furrows of flesh and holes from which poison or poisonous gas oozes. Also possesses a deadly breath. The ability aims to take either the life of the victim or someone around them as quickly as possible to use as a puppet later. In short, pessimism is contagious, it poisons not only your life but also those around you, you know *wink-wink*. The power of his wings easily helps him to lift sand into the air and make sandstorms. Pazuzu is a demon of winds, bringing death and drought. Was named after an archetype of Italian theatrical masks (if you can call it that) that most resemble a human face without emotion - Volto. Pirro is a variation of the spelling of Pierrot's name, and the last name Ljung belongs to the Norwegian bass player from Zeromancer, Kim Ljung.

[mx-your-name]

More (mostly story) head canons of Singer!Reader x Yandere Steve Rogers!

TW: Mention of murder and death, technically kidnapping, yandere behavior, obsessive love, manipulation if you squint your eyes

-Since you and Steve had gone on a “date” you started talking to him more after your songs were finished or doing the day when you weren’t working.

-Everything was nice and sweet, Steve was really a nice guy and didn’t have a single bad bone in his bone, you think.

-It was mostly one single night that started it all for the improvement of your guys' relationship. That made your relationship go down uphill from then on.

-Like any regular normal shift you had started your song, but this time was different because it was a love song. Some people grabbed their partner or others decided why not dance with each other through the whole thing.

-Steve decided to just sit there and watch you, soon getting up and walking a bit closer to get a better view since people kept walking right in front of him blocking your beauty from his point of view.

-Though towards the end of the music you had done a little spin but easily tripped over your red heels that you were wearing that matched your red dress with white polka dots.

-Right before you had hit the ground a pair of familiar arms had caught you opening your eyes just to meet with Steve’s who offered you a smile.

-Thanking him once you got set down on the ground after finishing your singing while looking him in the eyes unable to look away. Maybe it was the hand behind your head that made you look at him.

-Going back to the back round once dismissing yourself, the uneasiness sat in your stomach like it was positive when being after Steve.

-Perhaps it was your eyes, or voice, or your everything that drew Steve in to want to know you more. He knew that the both of you were meant to be together unlike the male that tried getting your number that had got killed by Steve went missing!

-Even if you ever denied your love for him, Steve knew you loved him back because of the look in your eyes when staring back at when singing that single line. That you had fallen for him. Literally.

-Of course Steve drove you home since you two live together.

-What do you mean you don’t? Do you live alone? No, you don’t! You moved in last week. Maybe go talk to a doctor about your memory. All your stuff at the house of your old apartment was sold to an old married couple.

-Well you're gonna have to stay or are you gonna sleep outside? You decided you’ll just sleep on the couch since all the rooms were full of empty boxes stuff.

-You ended up cuddling Steve in bed? You must have come in the middle of the night when you had gotten cold all alone.

-Your friend got killed? They shouldn’t have been outside alone in the middle of the night.

-Someone asked you out? Their dead body is on the news, and you somehow have a ring on your finger that matches Steve’s.

-Blaming Steve for doing everything that ruined your life? Maybe you REALLY need to see a doctor about your memory.

-You're fired from your job? That’s okay! Steve could everything just stay home and be the good house wife you are!

-Just don’t question it too much. After all if you do keep questioning things then Steve’s gonna make sure that you actually do forget your memory’s. You won’t have a chance either way!

-Steve would definitely ask force you to sing him a song. After all your voice is the most beautiful thing he’d always listen to on repeat even if you were just talking about a movie, show, gossip, etc, etc.

[ryo-apologist]

Feathers and Ashes

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader x Keigo Takami

CW: Spoilers, but at this point, they aren't new. This isn't really headcanons or a story, just my thoughts on it. Depictions of toxic relationships.

AN: Okay. hear me out here- HEAR ME OUT. It's always Shigadabi this, Hotwings that, which yes. They are elite. They are delicious. But there's a whole market being missed on Shigahawks. Dusty feathers if you will. All I know is I want to be between them and no one is letting me without letting Dabi in too.

~Darling XOXO

☾ It doesn't matter what side of the war you're on. Not anymore. When entangled with a hero bred from a society crumbling beneath the weight of their owns sins of the very idea of heroism and the villain aiming to destroy it all with a simply touch of his fingers and leave it in smokey ruins, you don't get an opinion.

☾ Maybe you do, but it's biased. Hawks wants to preach that he's a hero, he's one of the good guys, but Keigo can't even believe that himself.

☾ How can he when he has the blood of someone who saw him as an ally still warm on his palms, seeping through his gloves and tainting his very soul. The one still flickering with the hope he had as a child.

☾ Hawks and Keigo are such interesting characters. I say 'and' because I personally view them as two different entities. Not in a split personality way, not, but as in Hawks is a mask that Keigo wears to protect his fragile little heart so no one can touch it. And if we chose to delve into his entire character, he's full of so much gray morality, truly I could write an essay on him and his entire motivations and how he's so much more than what the fandom devolves him too.

☾ Shigaraki Tomura on the other end of the spectrum is an individual so tainted and rocked by a past soaked in trauma thats never been addressed in a proper way that he's blind to positions that even slightly challenge his own. His rivalry with Stain back in season one (two? Idk it's been awhile.) set his character, and thus development, up in the way that told the audience he didn't like challenges to his authority in any way. The following fight against Overhaul confirmed this. There's a difference between the way he was characterized as childish, which he is, and the way his reactions played out to these challenges. With Overhaul, this entire thing showed that above all else, Shigaraki is strategic. He's incredibly intelligent when it comes to battle IQ and war fronts and has proven it. (Not with the USJ incident, but liken that to starting a game. You never know how to play first round, but play around a bit and learn the controls a bit better and you get better.)

☾ Now, why do I say all of this in a post about a threesome with crust one and two?

☾ It's important to know why I find this dynamic so interesting because these two as individual characters are interesting, but look at their parallels.

☾ We have two children, surrounded by broken homes, that need a way out. Their quirks give them that ability, but at what cost? The cost of gathering the attention of adults who know right from wrong, taking them in and indoctrinating them in all the wrong things while encouraging enforcing propaganda about ideologies that directly contradicted what they were preaching.

☾ Neither side is truthfully right, argue with the wall about that (I'm not saying they're justified in how they're handling the war, do not get me wrong about that), but Keigo and Tomura will be damned before giving up their spot in the war, and that is something so fun to play with.

☾ Alright, back to the fun stuff you clicked read more for.

☾ Your opinion? Doesn't matter. In fact, I would avoid that topic entirely between them. Hawks is willing to kill for what he believes in, may Jin rest in peace, but so is Shigaraki evidently.

☾ Keigo and Tomura, however, are willing to set aside their ideologies.

☾ Do not get the idea that this is a healthy relationship by any means. No. I do not believe that even in his darkest depths Shigaraki is capable of anything moderately healthy. In the same vein, I don't think Hawks is either. It's not feasible with their lifestyles, it's not feasible with their missions, it's not feasible with their characters.

☾ Shigaraki is infamously territorial and possessive. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He wants what he claims is his, and he wants it now. He has the power to do so, he has the will, he will get what he wants.

☾ The only way I can see this happening is this: Hawks takes up a secret lover, how this happens is hard to say- pick your poison, I personally love them being a villain playing undercover hero and getting close, but that's me- and Shigaraki catches wind of this. Let's say we run with that idea, of the sweetheart being a villain of their own right, then they aren't affiliated with the league. Or maybe they are, I don't know. But Hawks and his villain sweetheart are running around, the former believing this is a villain trying to make a change and Keigo wants to help them, if a bit weary.

☾ And Shigaraki notices. Nothing big like the number two playing around with a villain goes on in the underground without him knowing. So he knows, and he doesn't know what the villain sweetheart is going after, but he wants in. He doesn't want anything opposing his rise to power, especially not some half-baked jack-off that thinks Hawks will save them.

☾ But then he meets them and maybe they aren't as bad as he hastily decided. He still doesn't like them, but he isn't going to dust them right away. They chat. Maybe they're threatened to fall under the League, or maybe they're willing to team up in exchange for something. Drugs, money, fire power, hard to say.

☾ But villain sweetheart refuses to give this up. Dabi fucked up with Hawks, he pulled the trigger pin far too early. But them? They have it locked down. Hawks is learning. It's subliminal, it's conditioning, it's something so small that Hawks only picks up on it when something in his routine changes to accommodate and by then it's too late.

☾ I think Hawks is honestly too smart for anything big, honestly he's probably too smart for any sort of manipulation.

☾ For the most part.

☾ Oh you thought I'd leave it at that? No. Think about the Dabi situation. He's down, he's vulnerable, he's been outed and now he's hated by the country. Hawks is dead. Keigo is yearning for something to grasp onto, to hold that won't crumble between his fingers like his hero career currently is.

☾ Now is the moment to strike. You have villain sweetheart offering up information about a mafia group they don't like, giving their information the benefit of the doubt and giving them the title of 'useable'. Not trustworthy, but the heroes take their plea for redemption with some merit.

☾ And Keigo clings to them the moment they offer any sort of apology, fake or not, for what happened, because it's an acknowledgement that he was wronged in some way shape or form.

☾ He's weary of being hurt again, but should villain sweetheart capitalize on this? Work their way deep into his shuddering and quivering heart and take post there? Manipulate the situation so that his focus shifts from hero politics to them?

☾ And then they team with Shigaraki?

☾ Keigo, not Hawks (Hawks is dead. He will remain that way. Keigo is running the show even if he's running it off a cliff), can be considered a guard dog. He's not trusted, fuck no, not at all, but he's defense. He's not trusted as offense, but canon fodder? Absolutely.

☾ If his villain sweetheart needs him, he's there.

☾ Shigaraki isn't happy, but he's too interested in villain sweetheart to let go. So what's the obvious solution?

☾ There isn't a good one. Hawks is, at this point, enamored in a relationship so dependent it's hilarious. He can't let go and he can't be alone, not again. He's done it as a child, he's done it as a hero, and he's hated it. he can't be alone. He can't, he can't, he can't.

☾ But there's a new toy in the toybox, a new piece on the board, and Shigaraki wants it. He needs it, no matter how useless it'll turn out to be. It's a piece the other side doesn't have. An uncontrolled, unpredictable, undocumented variable.

☾ To a degree, he knows what the heroes will do. He knows him and Deku will fight. He knows that. They, admittedly, know he'll do whatever it takes. They know he's going after their foundation built off of All Might and anything, especially Deku, to take it down and he's willing to take quirks to do so.

☾ But this new piece? No one knows what they want. They don't know who they're going after. They don't know what is driving them. And that, in a war, is dangerous. It can make or break either side.

☾ And Tomura Shigaraki wants them.

☾ Keigo has been proven as a non-threat to him. He's not dangerous anymore. He's been disarmed once, he has a blatant weakness to which they can exploit. So if he wants to cling to this variable then so be it. It's not on his radar.

☾ Anything Hawks can do to him, he can combat with his own quirk. He's not worried.

☾ Keigo is terrified. His quirk? We need to be so real. It's cool, yes, helpful, absolutely, but in the grand scheme? Not that combat oriented. He can't beat any of the big bad villain players unless their own quirk isn't combat based. Like Twice. Toga, I feel they are pretty evenly matched and will come down to something like swordsmanship and training. Dabi and Shigaraki? Not a chance. I hate to say it, I'm a Hawks baby fr, but being a Hawks person means I can admit he's only all that and a bag of chips because the commission pushed his image to be that.

☾ Anyway, Keigo? Terrified of losing his sweetheart. He's following them no matter what just trying to garner where they want to take this and how.

☾ So, where are we now?

☾ Keigo, with his hero persona long dead, is clinging to a villain who's using this to their advantage all while said villain is behind the scenes, working with one of the biggest players on the board currently. Said big player thinks this new piece is little more than a morsel of advantage over the other side, but this new piece has taken what is essential a bishop or knight (a piece that you never really think about until you're pinned by them) from the other side and converted them.

☾ Shigaraki is willing to ignore Hawks, but Keigo isn't willing to do the same. It's too risky for him, so he's right back where he swore he'd never go again into the lion's den.

☾ So it's a stalemate. Shigaraki isn't willing to let go, but neither is Keigo.

☾ It's a dynamic that is endlessly interesting to me and something I feel the fandom can explore. Dabi adds spice, but it's been beaten in every way with Shigaraki and Hawks and all three together. But he's got his share, Dabi's kicked to the curb for now. Let's explore these two as one pairing, because their dynamics are endlessly interesting with their parallels and their characters.

☾ I'm getting rambly so I'll end it there. I'm sure I'll write so much more about what I'm dubbing dusty feathers because I love them so much individually and can only imagine them as a pair.