#Anyways thanks for taking the time to read this nonsense if you did

[luciddreamingstuff]

Niche Under the Magnifying Glass Lamp

If there is one thing I can take away from being in some smaller fandoms, or niche hobbies: You take what you can get and There are people out there who need their medical bills paid for carrying the fandom on their backs.

My two babies are the Lego Monkie Kid:

If you loved Lego Ninjago as a kid and still do to this day, I highly recommend this show. You can find the first couple of seasons on Amazon Prime. Seasons 3 and 4 are gonna be a bit more difficult, and this is what I mean by some needing their medical bills paid. Because the only reason I was able to keep up with the show with it being poorly marketed and dubbing is slow, folks came together to not only find the episodes, but also do their damnedest to fan sub these. I've already written a post about this show and why you need to watch it somewhere on this blog. Anyways, my next baby, and the one I have sunk so much money into already, is Zoids:

Most would be familiar with Chaotic Century or New Century Zero, as the Liger Zero (not depicted here) is the poster boy of the franchise. And with the 40th anniversary upon us, I'm glad I get to experience this niche franchise/hobby in general (My wallet not so much). I say that as I have a few kits that are sadly yet to be built. Right, Zoids if you don't know, started out as a sort of model kit toy line-up with a whole story between two warring factions and the mechanical beings known as Zoids. Most of it takes place on Planet Zi, with the exception being Zoids Wild Zero (and I swear to the gods above, I have been trying to watch this series for years now but finding episodes has been extremely tricky. That or I have just been extremely unlucky.)

Anyways, all that aside, insert here how even small fandoms have their problems and blah blah blah. But in general, I found the hardest part of being in smaller communities is mainly finding the content for them. Again, Zoids just isn't a big thing here in the States, so finding kits can be a little hit or miss. I say this as someone who fell into the pit trap of knockoffs (three to be exact.) and yeah, still new to all of this, only started building the kits recently. And as for Lego Monkie Kid, thankfully the internet exists, and the dedicated fans who work their asses off to find episodes and get them translated? Hats off to you my friends and thank you for all you do. It's always so exciting when you find someone out in the wild, so to speak, who knows about some of these smaller properties. And again, just being in these smaller fandoms, you have a slightly different perspective on Things you wouldn't think about being in bigger fandoms. I never thought I would be building model kits because of my horrible coordination and the fact that a disability I have makes it a little difficult to handle the tiny pieces. But then I discovered Zoids: New Century Zero on youtube some odd years ago and then learned about the model kits. Liger Zero was the first kit I got. Sadly him and my knockoff Mugen Liger took a tumble and are now in Model kit hospital trying to fix the broken parts. And even now, I still hunt for new kits, droll over some I could never hope to own. And I've rewatched Zoids Genesis at least 4 or 5 times now. And before anyone says anything, Yes I have seen Chaotic Century, and I do love it, don't get me wrong. But my favorite Zoid happens to be the Murasame Liger and its evolts. So you can imagine why I would watch Genesis a few more times than the others. And then there's Lego Monkie Kid. See, I loved Lego Ninjago as a kid, always diving into each episode and recording them on the VCR to see anything I missed. And then one day, scrolling through TikTok, I came across some clips of this new Lego animation that was essentially a sequel (I'm not calling it a fanfiction, I swear to the gods I refuse) Of Journey to the West. Which I learned about through Overly Sarcastic Productions. And doing my usual thing, now that I know how to surf the um . . . Okay let's be real here, pirating sites for cartoons and then Amazon Prime for this show. It was so easy to catch up on and the animation was eye candy, the characters and story were amazing, sound design and all.

Anyways, if you made it this far into my rambles, I applaud you and hope I convinced you to go searching around the deeper waters a bit. After all, you never know what you're going to find. Whether it be a gold mine, okay but still a guilty pleasure, the downright bad, or just the strange of the strange. Either way, happy exploring and I'll see you on the other side.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[4] - Ray of Light

[stsgooo]

The Moonlight Goddess.

✩࿐ summary: the toy that got tucked away, would eventually come back out to play.

warning(s): chapter 48.2 manga spoilers, unedited. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader

a/n: caught up on the manga, feeling incredibly deranged. i will Not be speaking about chapter 65 as that was the craziest experience i've ever had at 1 am. also, i'll be reading the light novel soon :)) anyway, i hope you enjoy this random thing i cooked up.

part ii m.list ao3

WHEN MAOMAO SUGGESTED JINSHI TAKE THE PLACE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, YOU WEREN’T ENTIRELY CONVINCED.

Sure, your master was a beautiful man who had won the lottery of genetics. But you weren’t sure if he could convince beautiful western women that he of the same level, if not above, as them. It wasn’t a slight towards him. A lack of confidence in his abilities. But the mere fact that this issue itself was presented as nonsense. Achievable for a god, perhaps. But not for someone as simple as Jinshi.

It’d been 50 years since the last time the convery had last visited and spotted this beautiful woman. Surely, these girls were aware of the effects of time and how… unkind it could be to some?

It all smelt bad.

“Uh, Maomao, are we sure this is the absolute best approach for this matter?” You had asked as the three others had come to some general consensus amongst each other.

Maomao had stared at you flatly and, for a moment, you ponder if she even knew who you were. “Have you ever dealt with unruly women, Y/N?” She asked in her usual monotonous manner.

You blinked, expression equally as flat as you regarded the younger girl for a beat. Her time at Jinshi’s home had been spent, primarily, with you and Suiren. It was fond to look back on, but the two months had been stressful and the girl was rather difficult to work with. She drug you around on one or two of her little investigations. Much to the disdain of you both. The only compliment she paid you in that time was that you were quick on your feet and able to keep up with. Something that you guessed wasn’t common.

Yes, you are rather unruly, Maomao. Was the reoccurring and unkind thought that passed through your mind.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unruly people.” You opted to answer instead.

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Women?”

You deflated, “Many.”

Unfortunately, being Jinshi’s maid had meant you had your encounters with women who, blinded by their fondness for him, would attempt to make random walk-ins. Something strictly forbidden unless it was the upmost emergency. Despite them being the ones in the wrong, it was usually you who suffered the brunt of their abuse until Gaoshun finally decided to inquire what was wrong.

You were quite used to unruly women.

Unknowingly, you'd guaranteed your place in Maomao's plan.

She placed her fingers against her chin, eyes squinted on you. "Do you use makeup often?"

You blink, a weary frown on your lips. "What?"

"Are you familiar with makeup and hair, Y/N?"

"Of course I am." What did she take you for? A lazy uneducated lady?

Maomao grinned, something that was dark and twisted, and you felt like you had somehow stumbled into a terrible trap. "Wonderful, you'll help with Jinshi-sama's makeup!"

"Wha- no, I-I have my--" You attempted to decline, but were quickly cut off.

"That's a great idea," Jinshi spoke up, looking rather delightful as his eyes moved to you. "No one I would trust more with this."

Seeing the glint in his eyes and the kind smile, you knew you could no longer remove yourself from this plan. With a bowed head, you turned to Maomao, prepared to receive your duty.

You suppose this is how you ended up here. Maomao and Gaoshun out to find an outfit that would suit the Moonlight Goddess. And you awfully close to Jinshi's face as you carefully apply the eye makeup.

Silently, you were thankful that he had his eyes closed, as his violet eyes endlessly and innocently staring back into yours would surely make your heart stop. The work had been silent for the most part. The both of you uttering only what was needed: close your eyes, please look up, tilt your head to the side. It was the easy back and forth you both fell into.

It made you realize that most of your companionship with Jinshi had primarily been in silence. You simply deciphering exactly what he wanted from the twitch in his brow or the look he would shoot. It'd never really been on your mind before. Although, it had always been an easy agreement between you that shouldn't be brought to question or pondered upon too much. Ever since the both of you were children. Ever since you were just being trained for the duties that would be carried out in the rest of your adult life. You'd both just been in this tiptoe waltz that carried you through life.

He didn't pry too much into your personal dealings and you never questioned his demands as your master.

Life was, in all ways, easy.

But still, you felt as though this plan was toeing a line. Asking too much, underestimating the intelligence of another.

You supposed Maomao was like that and Jinshi would easily follow her word.

Maomao. Jinshi. Maomao and Jinshi.

They are quite the duo recently. You knew it would be nothing good the moment he'd called for her in Lady Gyokuyou's with that glint in his eyes. The eagerness and curiosity similar to that of a child. The way he sought her out at any given opportunity. If you had to guess, you would say Jinshi is rather fond of dear Maomao.

It made you sigh heavily, your eyes narrowed on the liner that looked a little wobbly.

"Any mistakes, you can just retry, don't stress yourself." Jinshi spoke, assuming that your sigh was related to the unsteady line rather than the trail of thoughts plaguing your mind.

You blink, eyes focused on the kind smile that stretched over his lips. A slight pitter-patter took your chest. "No worries, Jinshi-sama, I won't ruin your looks." You shoot back, softly.

Jinshi's eyebrows raised, a soft snort released. "Oh, really? Are you teasing me now?"

"I do have the ability to joke here and there, sir."

"You barely do anymore. Joke, that is." Jinshi observed, a subtle frown on his lips as you applied a bit of glimmer to his eye lids. "You're very serious now, very on edge."

"These are serious times, Jinshi-sama." You replied back smoothly, feeling an indescribable ache in your chest. "I'm sorry if I'm not entirely entertaining."

Jinshi's frown seemed to deepen. And, suddenly, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist and his eyes were open to reveal the clandestine violets that glimmered into your very soul. His hold felt warm and all encompassing, a disorienting welcoming feeling that made you falter in your work. Frozen, you offered him your undivided attention as he appeared to struggle with himself. gave him your undivided attention. His brows were furrowed and the frown on his lips was entirely too childish for the man he claimed to be. His lips parted and he released a sound akin to frustration. He huffed and huffed and huffed. Then he stared into your soul-- still, he couldn't seem to find the proper words for his thoughts.

One of the many things that Jinshi struggled with often is that he simply had a greater outlook on life while being so terribly confined. A childish optimism that should've left him once he was grown, clung to his soul desperately and gave him a more bountiful outlook on people and life. He knew the risks, he knew the dangers, he knew the nastiness of the world, but still stayed kind.

You know it was one of the many things his mother tried to change about him. That and his attachment to things. That was something you'd encountered first hand.

"You have your reservations about this, I can tell."

When he spoke, you weren't entirely sure what he'd say. There were times he was too insightful, too smart for his own good. It used to amuse you, now you only worried when it'd come across as unseemly.

Jinshi stared up at you, glittering eyes kind and approachable, his fingers squeezed gently around your wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you can't speak your mind." He continued as if he had no idea who you were. What you were. What you were to him.

Your gaze bounced between his own, a small frown breaking the perfect exterior you always desperately kept up. Maybe he was still stuck in the past. Maybe he was still enchanted by who you both used to be to one another.

The past was usually more lovely than a future unseen.

"I'm actually told not to voice my mind."

"By who?"

"Everyone."

There's a moment where Jinshi looks as if he's remembering something. Something distinct and obvious. Something that he had completely disregarded in the back of his mind for whatever reason, for however long. It must be pleasant, to not be constantly reminded that the people around you are paid or contracted to be by your side. Must be nice to have a choice.

Master. Servant. Master and servant.

That is all you and Jinshi shall ever be.

"I see," He uttered, eyes briefly tracing the tiles on the floor before fluttering back up to you with a new spark of determination. "But I'm ordering to speak your mind! Freely!"

You stared back flatly in return. Was he oblivious what freely meant? Ordering me and then saying it's of my own volition can't both be true.

Jinshi would put you into early death.

"Well, I, uh," you found his eyes to be too vibrant, to be staring too intensely and too welcoming. You turned your gaze away, desperate to grab some type of bearings over yourself. But, alas, his hand was still wrapped around your own. His skin scorched yours, tainted it with the warmth that was all his. "I think that this plan will not go entirely as you all hope."

"Is that so?" His voice is like a smooth honey, soft and all too endearing.

You hum, nodding, "Yes, uh, I believe they want you to fail, sir. And to have a rather unsavory thing to report back." Jinshi simply hummed in response. You could feel his eyes almost stroking against the side of your face. "I just think that they won't react the way you and Maomao hope they will. This is no slight to your or her intelligence, of course. Just a mere observation."

"I know what you mean, no worries." Jinshin's thumb was now slowly and softly stroking the butt of your palm. A soothing action that brought your eyes back to him. Captured in the way he serenely observed you. "What exactly about this makes you uneasy? Maybe I can ease you."

It didn't sound like an offer, but a promise. If his words weren't enough, his eyebrows were drawn together in careful contemplation. He wasn't going to walk away from this conversation without you both reassured in some capacity.

"What if they want to talk to you?"

Jinshi might had fair and delicate features, and a soft voice, but it wasn't nearly feminine enough to pass. If anything, they'd grow more suspicious. Then they'd report back about what a joke they all were and then Jinshi could suffer some type of punishment for his embarrassment. It wasn't that you were too pessimistic or didn't believe in the little group, but that the women's request felt bad all around.

A set-up if anything.

So, you took a deep breath and focused on that reassuring circle being drawn into your skin as Jinshi contemplated this for only a moment.

"Then I'll have the apothecary cover for me." Jinshi smiled, all too bright and all too reassuring. "We've already decided that I'll swim across the pond-- give me a vanishing effect and she'll deter them elsewhere."

You furrow your brow, all too worried, but bow your head instead of voicing such. "Of course, I have no doubt in you, Jinshi-sama." You reassure.

There was a beat of silence, then, "You're my oldest friend, you know?" You tense. Frozen into you bow, your wide eyes stare endlessly at his feet. His tone is tender, soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should be speaking these things aloud. Yet, he continued. "You're the only one, beside Gaoshun and Suiren, that has stuck by me without judgement or doubt. I thank you for that, but I also fear that we've grown apart."

"I suppose we have." You uttered, trying to ignore the clench in your chest.

"Even as children, we started to grow apart." He continued to observe.

Because of your mother. Because of her fear that you'd end up like him, like your father. That disgusting and vile man. How could she not know you'd never be like him?

There was a day, a very distinct day, that you and Jinshi had been separated for "his own good". Your birthday. You had waited him eagerly in the main courtyard, being able to slip away from your duties out of kindness from Suiren. You waited and waited, until Gaoshun had approached. His expression downtrodden and dark. He informed you that it was no longer proper for you to play around with the boy you so dearly adored. Said his mother commanded it.

If he plays with a toy too much, take it from him.

You used to be bitter, resentful, and angry over it. Only eight-years-old, you had clung onto any companionship you could and he had given the illusion that he'd be there forever. Until he wasn't. Until you were a toy to be tucked back into the chest, forever forgotten with time.

He would be there forever, but you only merely a pawn for him to use as he pleased. To do work and to never grace the same level as you had when you both were only children, not yet exposed to hierarchy. Pure and innocent.

Now, you were mere servant and master.

Finally, you willed yourself to pull away from his hold, turning around to pick through various hair products. "It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. We're no longer children."

"Hm."

As you reached for a brush, he pressed against your back. His hands coming to rest against your own with a delicate, featherlike touch. He was suddenly surrounding your ever sense. His warmth enveloping you into a hug that was almost earth shattering. Your lips parted and your eyes wide, you tensed as his lips brushed against the top of your head.

"I think of you often," his words are a whisper against you and your eyes, if possible, widen further as you almost lean back into him. "I sometimes wish I could just reach out and...and hold you, like we used to. Is that so bad?"

"Jinshi-sama, this is rather inappropriate!" You whisper back, not daring to look back at him in fear for how quickly you'd crumble.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back and sending various chills down your spine. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, then please, tell me."

You don't open your mouth, as much as you wished you would deter him, you were rather eager to keep this up for a moment longer. To have something to think about and something to cherish later. Surely, this wouldn't happen again.

Instead, your attention goes to keeping your heart steady as Jinshi gently turns you around. His eyes heavy as he stares at you earnestly, lips quirked up barely. Your hands came up to clutch his forearm, gently squeezing as he did the same with your shoulder. You felt your heart stammer and a sweat collecting on your brow, this was definitely something frowned upon. To be so close and to breathe his same air-- as he exhaled, you inhaled the rich oxygen.

Suddenly, Jinshi's eyebrows furrowed and his fingers reached out, gently tucking some hair from your face. "What did they teach you to make you tremble like this?" He whispered it to himself but, thanks to your proximity, you heard it.

It made your ears redden, your lips pressed together. Did he really not know?

Before you could even speak, the door to his room were opened. Both your heads snapped to the door where Maomao and Gaoshun stood, both varying degrees of expressions on their faces that brought shame to you both. The four of your frozen in your respective places, staring at one another dumbly. Your hold on your master slackened and Jinshi took that as a sign to move first.

Jinshi made a rather odd noise, jumping away from you, face red and wide awkward smile to the two at the door. "Did you find the goods?" He asked as he approached, nervous fingers moving about.

Maomao, bless her soul, decided to ignore whatever it was they had walked in on, moving forward with a bundle of things in her arms. "Yes, Jinshi-sama."

You nervously pulled yourself from the table, turning your back to the three, hoping to conceal the red hue on your face. You really, really, hoped that no one would say anything.

Your hopes were tarnished as Gaoshun stepped up beside you.

The man was family. He'd been there for every milestone, or the rather unruly years when you found yourself in trouble more often than not. You'd grown accustomed to reading into his expressions more than his words. He was more open there, his only weakness.

That's why you withered when you saw that aghast expression on his face. The glimmer in his eyes that said it all-- he knew what was happening.

You ducked your head at the same time you heard Maomao ask, "Why isn't your hair done?"

You mustn't get ideas above your station. You are there to serve your master. Nothing less, nothing more.

That is the first thing that they taught you when you were "of age".

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

That's the second thing they taught you.

There were many things that contributed to your regression. That made you cower away from who you used to be. Going from a loud troublemaker to the polite, obedient lady that lived to serve her kind master.

But as you watched Jinshi, or more correctly, the Moonlight Goddess dance elegantly at the edge of the pond. As you witnessed the light hit just right an illuminate him in a way that would send even the most beautiful angel into a rage. You realized one thing.

You would never tell Jinshi of those things.

Someone as beautiful and perfect as him, untouched from the life that you lead, shouldn't be exposed to the things he confined you to.

All you could do was gaze upon the Moonlight Goddess, utter your most daunting praises and wants, and tuck it all away.

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

You were a lowly maid after all. Someone so dignified and beautiful wouldn't settle for you.

"My hair is still wet!" Jinshi's voice bounced off the walls, a scowl etched on his face.

You bowed your head as you entered, towel tucked in your arms. "I have a towel for you, Jinshi-sama."

As you ruffled his hair with the towel, watching his shoulders relaxed you thanked the Moonlight Goddess.

A coward like you would never belong with a Goddess like him.

[lqveharrington]

Feelings Mutual | C.G.

summary: Your forced to hangout with Cardan at the High King’s birthday celebration. Turns out, you both make stupid decisions when drunk. And what’s the fine line between hatred and love between two being who can’t lie anyway?

pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x half fae!fem!reader

includes: drunk Cardan, drunk reader, cursing, making out, suggestiveness, no use of Y/N, barely proofread (i think that’s it)

a/n: i’m on a reading spree, and working on my projects, so this should help get me out of a huge writing slump.

In Faerie, it was uncommon for a half fae, half human being to be a princess in the court. Your father — the King of one of the many lands — wed a human woman, causing you to become the land’s princess. Of course many of the court thought that you were lesser than them; For such a creation should never hold that high of a status.

Ever since you were younger, you often attended lessons with the High King’s youngest child. At first, you sought out to befriend him and his group of friends. But you soon found out that they loathed you. Because how could a halfling ever be a worthy princess?

So you gave up trying to befriend them. You let the group taunt you for not being full fae, but what was the worst thing they could do? You still were a daughter of a very powerful king. The very king that was the closest with the High King himself.

You and your family were constantly invited to all their gatherings, and this one wasn’t an exception. It was the High King’s birthday, which meant all of Faerie was invited to Elfhame palace to celebrate such a day. The only issue with that meant your father and mother urged you to talk to Cardan and his group.

“Mother, they don’t like me.” You wring your hands together, fidgeting with your silver jewelry.

She clicked her tongue, “Nonsense. Prince Balekin spoke of how much Cardan talks about you when he comes home from your lessons.”

“Wait what?” Your eyes widen at her in disbelief. “Mother, I’m sure they’re words of hate.”

“Is it because you don’t like your dress? Are you afraid they’ll hate it?” She tugged you to stand in front of herself. “You look gorgeous, angel.”

You purse your lips at her compliment. You truly loved the dress. It was a beautiful sage color that complimented your skin tone completely, and the corset really did wonders. There were gorgeous lace details of butterflies that were a shade darker, with a slit running down one side of the dress. It was beautiful, but you feared that it was much too modern for Faerie, causing your thoughts to wander to how Cardan’s friends would insult it.

“No, I love the dress, mother.” You give her a tight lipped smile, squeeze her hands. “If you truly wish for me to find Cardan, I’ll go and be friendly so you and father can enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and a real smile etched its way onto your face.

“Be safe, alright?” Your father squeezed your shoulder before leaning down to whisper words your mother couldn’t hear. “If trouble comes, you know what I’ve taught you. You have your dagger?”

Your lips twitch in excitement, “Of course.”

“Then you’re all set then, kiddo.” He gave you one last look before resting an arm around your mother’s waist. “I’ll come find you when it’s time for us to depart.”

You nod before taking a small bow. You watched them leave and make their way to the throne, immediately engaging with the High King and Queen. They seemed happy, which made you glad that they accepted your mother as their own. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath and blew out the air in one go. Carefully, you made your way over to Cardan. Luckily, he was on his own for once.

“Cardan.” You nod in his direction, watching his dark eyes with flecks of gold suddenly gazing into yours. Without fail, his eyes roam over your body, tail whipping behind himself after gaining someone’s attention.

“Princess! Don’t you look absolutely captivating tonight.” He slurred, red wine dripping out of his glass. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You raised a brow at the prince. From what you could recall, he didn’t live inside the palace walls. And there wasn’t a chance he could lie either. “You don’t live here.”

“I used to.” He tipped his glass up to his wine stained lips, taking in the drink whilst taking in the sight of you.

“Where are your—“ You use your hand to gesture in the air as you grab your own glass of wine from a server passing buy. Unsure of how to word your question, you sip on the wine, immediately hit by its strength. “Where are your friends, I should say.”

“Off to bother some mortal or do something stupid.” He smiles in your direction as you down your drink and reach for another. “What’s upsetting you, princess?”

“Nothing.” You tilt your head toward him, eyes flicking down from his strange stare to his stained lips. “Just want time to move faster.”

“How drunk do you want to get?” He leans closer to you, fingers itching to pull you into him.

You place a hand to his mouth and push him further away from yourself. He hums as he traces his finger over his empty wine glass.

“How many glasses have you had, Cardan?” You tip back your third drink, missing his smirk while he watches.

“Enough.”

“Enough to forget?” You turn toward the table and grab the strongest drink, carefully downing the drink.

His shadow towers over you as his breath tickles your neck, “Forget what exactly, love?”

“I hate you.” You say against Cardan’s lips, arms loosely hanging around his neck. “I hate you so much.”

He continues to push you backwards as he slams the door behind him, hands finding their place around your waist. “Feelings mutual, princess.”

Letting your hand thread through his hair, you pull him in for a more heated kiss, tugging ever so slightly at his roots. Cardan groans against your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

“This is such a stupid idea.” You unwillingly part as he drops you down on a bed — hopefully one that used to be his. You let out a small gasp as he litters soft kisses on your throat and down to your exposed collar bone. Your hands find his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. “Cardan—“

“Yes, love?” He slowly makes his way back up to your lips, pressing short kisses as you try to make sense of the situation. He stops attacking you with his lips, staring and waiting for you to continue.

You shake your head, eyes glassy with drunkenness as you meet his gaze. “Kiss me.”

“You’re too perfect for me.” He groans again, tasting the red wine from your lips as he kisses you harder. “God, I hate you.” Cardan mumbles as he lets his hands wander over your body, refraining from the more private areas at the moment.

Cardan allows you to wander over his own body, feeling you fidget with the hem of his shirt. Letting your hands slip underneath his shirt, you let out a small sigh before flipping the both of you over. You quickly toss your dagger onto the floor before meeting his lips again, the kiss heightening all your profound feelings.

As minutes turned into an hour more, you both fell into a pit of no return. The shared kisses were intensified, and without either party having a clear mind or being sober, neither could stop the motions that lulled them both to sleep very late into night.

It wasn’t until early afternoon that the pair awoke to the sounds of pounding at the door and a splitting headache.

“Your highness, your father is looking for you.” The voice called from outside the wooden doors, causing you to groan and bury your head into the warmth emitting from your bed.

A beat passed before the pounding occurred once more.

“Your highness—!”

“In a minute!” Cardan shouted, eyes shut from the dizziness and hangover. “For fucks sake…”

Your eyes widen at the voice, head rushing up before falling back down at the impact of a jaw. “Shit, that hurt.” You mutter, wincing when you felt the hangover hit you. Slowly, you remove yourself from Cardan’s arm, slightly frowning when you saw him rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slam into you…”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns.” He grumbled, glaring at the door again.

He pushed himself up from the bed, eyes raking over your appearance. He smirked over at you before leaning against the headboard. You crease your brows before looking down and realizing whose clothes you were in — crossing your arms over the loose shirt.

“Princess, I think your father will be a little disappointed in you.”

“Why is that?” You roll your eyes at him, keeping one arm over Cardan’s shirt while running your free hand through your hair.

Your bored gaze meet his amused one, watching him tilt his head. You look away as you weren’t necessarily hiding the fact that you were eyeing his bare chest either.

He pulled you into his chest, despite your halfhearted protests. “Because you have hickeys all over your skin.” Cardan presses a kiss to your cheek, causing your breath to hitch.

All the memories from last name came rushing in, warmth filling your body at the thoughts. Your eyes flit to your dress and dagger scattered across his floor, still thinking of the punishment to come.

However, you did not regret him.

“I don’t think we drank enough last night.” You twist in his arms, lips barely touching his.

“I don’t think so.” He lands a soft kiss to your lips. “I still hate you, love.”

“Feelings mutual.” You straddle over his hips and rest your forehead on his, both your heads still pounding from last night’s activities.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[praisetheaxolotl]

The Arsonist Theory, Part 2: We Get It, The Billboard Was A Metaphor

Part 1: Mandibles!

First off, I want to say thank you all for giving the first part of my theory such love! I appreciate each and every one of you and I'm so happy that you all like my theories so much!

For those who are new here, the Arsonist Theory proposes that Bill wasn't alone in destroying his dimension- rather, he was used by a third party. This is part two of four, with the remaining two parts coming out very, very soon.

Also, same as before:

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL, INCLUDING SOLUTIONS TO CIPHERS

Let's get into it, shall we?

In The Great Gatsby, certain motifs have more than one symbolic meani-- no, really, stay with me here!!

...Okay, fine. Let's back up.

In the Book Of Bill, you'll find a webpage called thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com. Go there, and you'll be prompted to enter a password. Go back to the Book of Bill, and hidden in a stretched-text section, you'll see the phrase NEED A PASSWORD? FINE, I'LL TALK / IT'S THE NAME OF THE EYEBALL DOC.

"The eyeball doc" is from the excerpts of The Great Gatsby further back in the book-- T.J. Eckleburg.

(Honestly, this explanation is moreso that context doesn't get lost to time.)

So... Gatsby. T.J. Eckleburg.

Hirsch could have chosen any number of public domain novels for that gag in the book... so why this one? Why tie it in by making it the password?

I believe it has some significance to the greater plot. Furthermore, eye doctors in general are a large point of Bill's early life in Euclidia. Take the silly straws- the red one has a numeric cipher, while the other three use a Caesar cipher.

In the order of RGBY, they read as follows:

TWISTED OUT OF SHAPE AFTER THE KILL / THE GHOSTS OF HIS FAMILY ARE HAUNTING HIM STILL Eye doctor of a different kind / Who wants to make his patients blind The doctor says / Three sips a day / Will make the visions / Go away Fussy eater / Baby Billy / Wouldn't drink / Unless it's silly

These ciphers refer to a certain couple of tidbits Bill tells us about his home.

One- He could see the third dimension. A rare mutation.

Two- Talking about it at all was illegal.

So, what were his parents to do when their son started talking about nonsense that was illegal to even mention? Well, if your child started acting strange and seeing things that weren't there... you would take them to the doctor.

It's clear to me that Bill's parents were concerned about the "visions" their son was experiencing, and took him to the doctor to cure them- an eye doctor that wants to make his patients blind. The blue straw explains how the medicine is supposed to work. The yellow straw explains why Bill has such a fondness for silly straws- he was a picky little kid, and hated his medicine, so his parents got him silly straws to drink it out of.

I wonder if that's why he collects them- because they remind him of home, of his mother urging him to take his medicine, of his life before all of this happened.

But never mind all that.

The thing is, an eye doctor is crucial to Bill's past, which of course brings me back to T.J. Eckleburg.

In The Great Gatsby, certain motifs have more than one symbolic meaning, and the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg are no exception.

(Okay full disclosure, I have not actually read Gatsby and I'm Sparknotes-ing this shit. But, so did all of you when you were assigned this in high school, so we're even.)

They appear on a billboard in a place called the Valley Of Ashes, and at first, they seem to symbolize God. But as the scenes continue, they take on a different meaning.

See, our POV character, Nick, is going on this journey to meet the mistress of his friend. Nick is aware that this is an immoral action, yet does it anyway. Now, the eyes of Eckleburg cast judgement... along with issue a warning.

They now take on a new meaning-- a foreboding omen about the tragedy that lies in wait, inching ever closer. The tragedy in Gatsby being the death of Myrtle, the mistress, and subsequent string of deaths that follow it-- and, curiously, Nick states that the eyes of Eckleburg almost supernaturally draw him someplace... which ends up being where Myrtle is.

Both a higher being, and a warning of a horrible tragedy that ends in death upon death upon death... curious!

What's more curious is when Bill is admonishing the story and Un-Gatsby-ing us, he says this:

The billboard is a metaphor? Why mention that? Out of all the symbolism in this book, why the billboard? Is it because it was mentioned in the preceding pages? Then why mention the theme of the American Dream being a myth? That wasn't on those pages! If you had to mention symbolism, the green light would have been the most iconic example of it from the book.

So why the billboard?

Is, perhaps, the image of some sort of higher power watching you, admonishing you of the tragedy you will have a hand in causing, supernaturally pulling you to someone that will be the catalyst for it all.... relevant somehow, to Bill?

(And, as a sidenote- the theme of the American Dream being hollow could also apply here, as Bill got what he wanted- freedom into the third dimension, Weirdmageddon, all of it. But he's still not happy and still wracked with guilt over Euclidia, ultimately an interloper in a place he doesn't belong in, just as Nick says at the end of the novel that he is a Midwesterner unsuited to life in the East Coast city.)

Let's talk about Flatland.

It's interesting to note that in the original novel, A. Square does have help witnessing the third dimension-- a Sphere contacts him, and tells him about the third dimension, intending to use the Square as a conduit to educating the rest of Flatland.

This, of course, leads to mass imprisonments and executions, one of said imprisonments being of the Square's own brother, with the Square being imprisoned himself at the end of the book.

Point being... in the original story of Flatland, the two-dimensional outsider was visited by a higher being, one that used him to alter Flatland and only ended up causing chaos and ruining lives.

All I'm saying is, the Book of Bill and Bill's story in general draws parallels to two existing books-- Flatland, and now The Great Gatsby. It would be foolish to write this off as a random occurrence when the game of Gravity Falls has always been analyzing the smallest of details. I believe the choice in book was on purpose, and moreso, that it was specifically used to hint that maybe Bill wasn't alone in all this. There was some kind of higher being that influenced him, just as the Square was influenced. That looked down upon him with impossibly wide eyes, pulling him closer and closer to ruin.

Oh, by the way-- Bill up there mentions being touchy about his weaknesses ever since... something. This is clearly his death, but... is that all he means? But that's gonna be in part four.

Next time, it's all about the many cycles and the distinct breaking of them present in Gravity Falls itself, and what that means for Bill as the villain and foil to them.

Part 3: Journey To The Vicious Spiral Nebula

Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hi Slug! If possible could you please translate the new updated timeline from the second guidebook? Thank you so much 🙏

I typically don't want to translate any sort of paid content, but I'll make an exception just this once so we can publicly shame Hypmic for its ludicrous timeline have this as a resource.

The guidebook's timeline is split into two halves corresponding to Chuuouku and the six Divisions featured in the storyline. For ease of reading, I've combined them into one and placed them in order (as much as possible).

The translation is as direct as possible. I do not translate word by word by the dictionary when there are more straightforward or natural-sounding equivalents available, and I do not incorporate features of the source grammar and punctuation that are nonsensical in English. Apart from that, this is super cut-and-dry. It's a timeline lol.

Finally, a note about the "H Age" (H歴) year system: While treated as its own calendar system similar to BCE and CE (or BC/AD), the H Age notation is otherwise similar to Japanese "eras." In real life, a new era corresponds to a new emperor taking the throne, so Otome's rise to power and the subsequent beginning of the H Age marks a paradigm shift. Eras can start in the middle of a calendar year, so Year 1 of the H Age isn't necessarily from January to December (in so much as Hypmic has months anyway). Let's arbitrarily say it started in June 2024. (Did it? No idea. I made this up for argument's sake.) That means Year 1 is June - December of 2024 while "one year prior" is January - May also of 2024. Therefore, "two years prior" is January - December of 2023. And so on and so forth.

Under a cut for length

19 years prior to the H Age

Rei joins a military R&D program.

Otome founds the Party of Words.

13 years prior to the H Age

World War III begins.

11 years prior to the H Age

World War III ends, but smaller violent conflicts continue.

Rei leaves the military and assembles an independent Hypnosis Mic development team.

4 years prior to the H Age

Rei creates a working Hypnosis Mic.

3 years prior to the H Age

Otome purchases the Hypnosis Mics from Rei.

The military creates a working Hypnosis Mic prototype.

Rei begins development of the Hypnosis Canceler.

2 years prior to the H Age

Rei creates a working True Hypnosis Mic.

1 year prior to the H Age

The Party of Words stages a coup d'tat.

Rei creates a working Hypnosis Canceler and gives the first Ramuda to Otome.

Year 1 of the H Age

The H Age begins, ending violent conflict with weapons.

The Party of Words overwhelms the preexisting government, thus subverting the state.

The Party of Words founds Chuuouku and distributes Hypnosis Mics to select candidates.

Ichirou and Kuukou form Naughty Busters.

Samatoki and Sasara form Mad Comic Dialogue.

Ramuda meets Jakurai and Yotsutsuji. The former two go on to form Kuujaku Posse.

Otome purchases the True Hypnosis Mic from Rei.

Ichirou and Kuukou begin working with Mad Comic Dialogue.

Year 2 of the H Age

Ramuda clones use the True Hypnosis Mic to brainwash Sasara and Kuukou. Kuukou tells Ichirou their friendship is over and leaves for Nagoya. Sasara does the same and returns to Osaka.

Ichirou, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Jakurai form The Dirty Dawg.

The Dirty Dawg gains supremacy over every Division in Japan. A Ramuda clone puts Yotsutsuji in a brainwashing-induced coma.

A Ramuda clone brainwashes Nemu. She goes on to join the Party of Words.

Ichirou and Samatoki battle one another in accordance with a Chuuouku plot. At the same time, Jakurai and Ramuda fight over the Yotsutsuji situation. This leads to The Dirty Dawg disbanding.

The Party of Words disables all preexisting Hypnosis Mics distributed [through their program in Year 1] and recalls the mics.

The Party of Words creates the Division Rap Battle program.

Year 3 of the H Age

Ichirou, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Jakurai receive mics from Chuuouku.

The Division Rap Battle program begins.

Ichirou forms the Buster Bros with Jirou and Saburou.

Samatoki forms Mad Trigger Crew with Juuto and Riou.

Jakurai forms Matenrou with Hifumi and Doppo.

Ramuda forms Fling Posse with Gentarou and Dice.

Preliminary matches begin within each Division. The Buster Bros, Mad Trigger Crew, Fling Posse, and Matenrou win their respective preliminaries, thus advancing to the finals.

Ichijiku uses a Hypnosis Canceler for the first time.

In the first DRB tournament, Mad Trigger Crew wins round 1 against the Buster Bros.

In the first DRB tournament, Matenrou wins round 2 against Fling Posse.

In the first DRB tournament, Matenrou wins the final match against Mad Trigger Crew and takes the championship.

Hitaki Tsumabira, Vice Director General of the Criminal Bureau, and the Tobari brothers attempt to lay a trap for the Buster Bros, Mad Trigger Crew, Fling Posse, and Matenrou. Their plot fails.

Ichijiku has Tsumabira purged from the Party of Words for using the Tobari brothers to traffic the Grasshopper drug.

The Party of Words announces the second DRB.

Kuukou and Sasara receive mics from Chuuouku.

Rei meets Sasara and Roshou. The three go on to form Dotsuitare Hompo.

Hitoya introduces Juushi to Kuukou, who takes Juushi under his wing as an apprentice. The three go on to form Bad Ass Temple.

Ichirou notices Nemu's name on a list of missing persons and meets up with Sasara and Roshou to find out more. Rei meets with Jirou and Saburou. He reveals that he is their father and that Ichirou has been lying to them.

Nemu becomes the Vice Director General of the Administrative Inspection Bureau.

Nemu, still brainwashed, shows up in front of Samatoki with other Chuuouku members. Ramuda confesses to Samatoki that he brainwashed her.

Gentarou and Dice learn that Ramuda is a clone.

Chuuouku approaches Jakurai for his crucial assistance in improving the True Hypnosis Mic in order to bring Yotsutsuji out of his coma. Jakurai and Hitoya reunite. Meanwhile, Hifumi and Doppo meet Kuukou and Juushi.

Chuuouku decides to have Ramuda killed. Honobono enlists the Word Wreckers to join her in hunting him down. Gentarou and Dice come to his rescue and spirit him away to safety, but now all three are wanted as outlaws.

Dice performs a trade with Otome, giving her the Chuuouku expose left behind by Gentarou's older brother. Ramuda is allowed to go free, and Fling Posse is granted permission to participate in the second DRB.

Jakurai agrees to cooperate with Chuuouku under certain conditions. Honobono pays a visit to Hifumi's club.

Juuto arrests Sekirei Hanmyou, the man responsible for the drug that led to Juuto's friend and parents' deaths.

Nemu arrests Tsumabira, now escaped from prison, and her coconspirator in crime Misago Haebaru. Honobono rises to position of Vice Director General of the Criminal Bureau in Tsumabira's place.

Ichirou battles Jirou while Saburou battles Rei. The brothers make up afterward.

After receiving advice from Rei, Sasara and Roshou battle one another and come clean about their feelings. With that bad blood washed away, the team comes together stronger than ever.

Juushi comes face to face with the boy who bullied him and took his grandmother's life. Through his own fortitude, Juushi prevails through the mental distress. After talking with Kuukou, Hitoya lets go of the past in seeking revenge for the death of his brother. The team comes together stronger than ever.

The second DRB preliminaries come to an end. The Buster Bros, Mad Trigger Crew, Fling Posse, Matenrou, Dotsuitare Hompo, and Bad Ass Temple advance to the finals.

In the second DRB tournament, the Buster Bros win round 1 against Dotsuitare Hompo.

In the second DRB tournament, Matenrou wins round 2 against Bad Ass Temple.

In the second DRB tournament, Fling Posse wins round 3 against Mad Trigger Crew.

In the second DRB tournament, Fling Posse wins the final match against the Buster Bros and Matenrou, thus claiming the championship.

Sasara and Kuukou learn that they were brainwashed. Ramuda opens up to Jakurai and tells him the truth. Ichirou and Samatoki learn the truth as well, thereby resolving the feuds between the team leaders.

The Party of Words announces the third DRB.

The Party of Words locates and seizes control of Rei's laboratory. In an exchange of hostages, the Party gains control of the True Hypnosis Mic and Ramuda clones.

Otome announces plans for world domination before Rei attempts a coup d'tat. All Hypnosis Mics are disabled, and Otome and Ichijiku are sent to maximum security prison by the very Ramuda clones Rei created.

Public order breaks down following the disabling of the mics.

Ichirou discovers Rei's connection to the Hypnosis Mics due to Gentarou's brother's expose. The main cast, led by Jirou and Saburou, hold a music festival to bring courage to everyone struggling with the political turmoil.

Honobono frees the inmates of Chuuouku's maximum security prison. After staging an attack on the music festival, she disappears from the eye of Chuuouku.

Rei and Ichirou have a fistfight over their respective moral positions. Rei acknowledges his defeat, reconsiders his moral stance, and reactivates all Hypnosis Mics.

Armed with a working mic once more, Nemu takes command and restores order within Chuuouku. Otome decides to step down from her position in government.

[yukittywrites]

You'll Love it When I Give it To You

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

warnings: dom reader and sub yuta, nipple piercings, nipple play, coming untouched, dry humping, some light degradation

word count: 2.2k Read the full story (6.28k) here!

a/n: did i forget tumblr existed? who knows? (the answer is definitely yes) anyways, thanks for being patient. reader is gender neutral, no mentions of your genitals/race/majorly identifying features. it is implied that you and 127 are very close/you're in 127 (read how you will) but it's not really plot necessary! reader in the original story is actually mark...so you're a little mark coded but im sure you're fine with that ;))

It was only natural. Yuta had always been in love with piercings and tattoos.

Of course he'd gotten tattoos once he was permitted to. A 127 chain around his bicep, a butterfly on his hip, and finallly, a feather on his pelvis, trailing low enough that no one who saw him decent would be able to see the full thing.

Then, he'd gotten piercings as well. His ears had been pierced for ages, but he'd gotten a bunch of new holes added throughout time, until he had a near absurd amount. The last one he got, a navel piercing.

The navel piercing was painful, but worth it, especially for the reactions he got for it, and it was only the next step in his gradual transformation to his emo/v-kei/rockstar aesthetic that he'd been steadily building over time.

Nipple Piercings

They were hot, easy to show off, the company didn't care about them and the fans would love them.

So he was quick to run to the tattoo and body piercing parlor and have them shove some black studs straight through his nipples.

And he had to keep them mostly untouched (aside from a shirt or a jacket rubbing against them) for ages, but finally, the sensitivity wore off.

That was when the torture began.

It was so easy to tease him about them, because his nipples were suddenly very sensitive where they had not been before, and the members were quick to use this to their advantage, tweaking them to get a rise out of him, humiliate him, knock him down a peg, make him do something—truthfully, they used them for so many things that Yuta wasn't even sure he could recall all of them.

But, of all people, the person who didn't bother him with nipple torment was you. And, by all account, you had the most reason to.

Yuta believed that you had just seen the amount of absolute hell that he'd endured (with hell being a rather dramatic term, he really didn't hate it) and you'd decided to take mercy on him.

But, as it seemed, you were simply waiting for the right time to strike.

Doyoung, his other main victim of teasing, was probably the only other person who had a justified reason to tweak his nipples so much, had definitely gotten his fair share already, and you definitely deserved it too, because Yuta just loved to tease you in a different way.

He lived for the rise he could get out of you with overly suggestive comments, revelling in how you would turn red and sputter whenever flirted with.

A suggestive comment here, a lip bite or wink there, a gesture that was far too dirty to be entirely innocent (like that one time he got white yogurt on his hand and made eye contact with you as he licked it all off his hand in the dirtiest way possible.), all of them would leave you a mess, choking on sputtered protests in mashed up Korean and your native language.

And all he'd do was smile brightly, then slip away to do nonsense, leaving you before you could even recover.

So, anyway. Yuta thought you were a benevolent saint who ignored what everyone else was doing.

Yuta was (unsurprisingly) wrong, and just like how it happened with Doyoung, he probably earned it.

Yuta starts it.

“Dude, that’s literally massive.” You say. You're referring to the size of the package that Johnny just walked past the doorway with, because the box really was huge.

But of course, Yuta couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease you a little bit. “Yeah? I’m sure I could think of a lot of things that are massive, Y/n.”

It’s not his best work, but it gets the point across, and you flush beet red. Yuta snickers. 

This is your time. You blink at him for a second or two, and Yuta can see the gears turning in your head. It’s almost like you're buffering, and Yuta opens up his mouth to make another retort, but you seem to understand his idea at the same time because you move from the chair you're sitting on to climb on top of him.

And not in the same way that the others had done, no. You shove his chest into the back of the chair and settles your body on top of it in a way that is practically obscene. 

Yuta, for once, is speechless. His lips part in sheer shock, and you can't help but grin. “A lot of things, huh?” You question, your voice mantaining a teasing lilt, blended with something that Yuta’s never heard from you before.

“Yep. Why? Do you want to know what they might be?” Yuta replies, despite internally screaming, because YOU are sitting on his lap, pressing him into the chair, looking down at him, and he thinks he might lose his mind. 

“You’re so cocky, Yuta.” You say, your hands move from the arms of the chair.

“And what reason would I have not to be?”

“Hmm…” You fake contemplate, “This.” 

Then, your hands connect with Yuta’s nipples, both of them at once, and the sensation is different.

It’s not like how it was when everyone else touched him—this is closer to how it felt when he touched them himself, and his body spasms.

You seem to take this as the same sort of spasming that would occur whenever the others would touch him, so you do it again, and Yuta writhes, lips pressing into a thin line.

“Most people don’t react this way when someone does this.” You tell him, stating the obvious.

“Well, n-no shit!” He hisses. His voice is too pitchy to bite back his real reaction, and he stutters a little.

You laugh, evidently amused by the reaction that you're getting. When you rubs them again, Yuta releases some noise that’s in between a whine and a gasp, a little too suggestive to be purely a gasp of shock.

However, Mark’s favourite past time is to make suspicious noises, so they're not that uncommon, and so you must not even realise that Yuta is not joking.

You take your hand and pinch his fucking nipple through his shirt, and despite the buffer of fabric between the two of you, it is game over for Yuta because his back arches. One hand shoots out to grab at your waist for stability, and the noise that leaves his throat is clearly one of arousal.

You still instantly, and Yuta panics, because this is really fucking weird. You are touching his nipples and sitting on his lap, and Yuta is holding onto your waist, skin flushed. 

He gets ready to apologise—to say sorry because he’s really weird for getting off on this right now, especially when he was fine while everyone else touched him—but you shift your weight slightly.

Oh. Oh no. He’s hard. Like, rock hard. He hadn’t realised it because he was more focused on trying not to reveal to you what he was thinking, but now that you have moved, he can feel it.

And you can too.

Your lips curl up into a smile again, though Yuta can see something else swimming in your eyes. 

“Is that a lightstick in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” you question, leaning in (and down) to be a little bit closer to him.

Your hair covers his eyes when you do.

Yuta swallows, “Y-Y/n, I didn’t—uhm.” His Korean fails him for the first time in a while, and he closes his lips again.

“I thought they were sensitive, but I didn’t know they were sensitive like that.” You tease, and Yuta wonders if, for a moment, you've switched personalities, because usually he’s the one teasing you, and it’s never this intense either—

“Uh. They aren’t—well, they weren’t before. Not when the others touched them.” Yuta replies, and now you really smile.

“So you are happy to see me.”

Yuta doesn’t know how to reply, but again, he opens his mouth, and you rolls a nipple at the same time, and his brain short circuits.

“Oh.” He moans, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. When they peel back open, you're staring at him in fascination.

“You really like this.”

“I—” But you're right, because he does, and he likes you too. “Yeah. It’s the piercings. They make it so…it’s so sensitive.”

You hum, slipping your hand up under Yuta’s shirt, touching his waist where his belly button piercing is, then you pause and takes your hand out.

“Can I…” It’s hesitant, because if you pull off Yuta’s shirt, then you two have to acknowledge what’s happening. 

Yuta nods quickly, and you decide that is a talk for later, as you slide his shirt right off, pulling it off his body.

Yuta’s piercings catch in the light: the stone on his belly button, the metal barbells on his nipples, the chain dangling from them (which totally wasn’t so he could pull it later).

“I still can’t believe the company let you get these…” You whisper

“Don’t talk about the company right now." Yuta replies. "We all know what they think.”

“They’re so pretty too.” You say, thumbing at his left, and Yuta’s fingers twitch. 

“Thanks,” he replies, his eyes almost falling shut again.

Your fingers twitch towards a barbell, obviously wanting to touch it.

“You can—you can touch them; pull them.”

“Pull it? But, dude, doesn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts, but it’s a good hurt.” 

You laugh, “Good hurt? I didn't know you were into that.”

You do grab the end of the piece between your fingernails, regardless, and pull it softly.

Yuta’s arm stops working, and it falls off your waist limply. “Mmmh~ Fuck.”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe we’re doing this.” You says, a little frantic. You pull again Yuta’s hips buck up. They brush against your inner thigh, and Yuta moans again. 

“You can pull harder—please. As hard as you want, Y-Y/n, it’ll feel good.” Yuta says, near desperate.

“Slut.” You whisper, and it jars Yuta, but the moment he processes it, he whimpers. 

You can't help but pull at his barbell fervently.

“Oh, god!” Yuta cries out, his head lolling back and his hips rolling against your thigh.

Your thighs are muscled and firm against his cock as he grinds against it, and you don't move it. 

“You like this? Grinding against my thigh and begging me to make you hurt?” You question.

You're a little baby dom, Yuta can tell—into being condescending and a little bit of pain but not quite secure in it—and somehow it’s still just as hot.

“Y-Yeah. So good, it’s so good. Fuck, Y/N!” Yuta moans, his tone pitching into something whiny and desperate.

You laugh, “I always thought you were a dom top, Yuta. It turns out that you really just want to feel good. You’ll beg for it, won’t you? You’d beg for me to make you feel that pain?”

“Yes, yes, I’d beg if you made me! Please, please. Do you want me to? I really want it—” 

“Aw, Yuta. I won’t make you beg for me.” You tease, pushing your thigh closer to Yuta’s cock for him to grind against even harder.

“Thank you!” Yuta gasps, his head lolling back again, as he takes advantage of your benevolence. 

You giggls, leaning close to him and pressing a kiss to his neck, trailing down to his chest. The position looks uncomfortable, pretzel-like, as you bend your head in a weird way to do so. Yuta would mention it if his brain wasn’t actively draining from his head.

You kiss his pec, then, in one fluid movement, suck a nipple into your mouth and suck.

“Nngh! Fuck, Y-Y/n~” He practically wails, his chest arching into your hold, begging for any pleasure, then spasming away, causing you to lose contact.

“Come on, Yuta. I thought you wanted it?” You sneer.

“I do! I do—”

“Then stop moving and take it.” You tell him before grabbing his waist and putting your lips back on Yuta’s nipples.

“Oh god.”

Yuta has never been more horny in life, pleasure bursting behind his eyelids as you tongue at his nipples and pull on his piercing with your teeth.

Your leg is digging into his crotch, and somehow, even that feels great. 

His hips spasm rapidly, and a garbled whine strains from his throat.

“I’m gonna—Y/n, I’ll cum—oh fuck!” He cries out.

You giggle against his nipple, and that’s it for him.

Stuttered mash ups of Japanese cries of him cumming spill from his lips as he cries out, ”Iku! Y/n, Y/n, iku~ I’m c-c—”

Yuta’s head falls back, and his eyes roll until only the whites are present. His body stills entirely, his mouth open in a silent moan. 

You let him bask in the feeling before pulling away.

“I can’t believe that we did that.” You whisper quietly.

Yuta laughs, breathless. “Yeah, me either. That was crazy, but I don’t think we’re done yet.” 

“Wh—oh!” You cry out, as you're spun around.

It's going to be a long night.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

Again: read the full story here!

[love-anddeepression]

Everything is fine -2

A/n: aaaaah thank you so much for waiting for part 2! sorry it's been so long im having fever and i had electoral campaigning to do so i've been so busy :DDD enjoy some revenge and a moment<3 not proofread so please excuse any mistakes

Part -1

The house is quiet when you enter. Spotless. As if it’s been frantically cleaned and the dust has been swept under the rug. You want to laugh. The bedroom door swings open but this time, he’s awake. He’s reading a book, his bottom half covered by the blanket. He looks up as you close the door and place your tote on the desk.

“Hey, baby.” he smiles and you let the corners of your mouth lift a little.

“I need some air.” you say and draw the curtains, unlatching the window and pushing it open. The night breeze is cool and the air in the room seems fresher. You stick your head out a little and breathe deeply, looking down.

You’re known to have the most absolute, shit eyesight, but even you can the the glow of red eyes a floor below you. You smile and draw back, Taking a towel from the cabinet and heading to the bathroom without a word, leaving your husband confused.

He can hear the shower turn on, and a few seconds later, the singular lamp in the roo switches off, leaving him in complete darkness. 

Miguel swears in frustration and huffs under his breath. His eyes come to focus as he gets used to the dark.

The only sounds are the rush of water in the shower, yet he feels the silence is eerie. The wind picks up, it’s almost howling, It sounds like a wail. His breathing quickens a little, and his eyes fall to the little expanse to the outside world.

He freezes. There’s something outside.

On the 18th floor. Staring at him. It’s eyes glow a deep red and he can see claws gripping the window sill. 

He wants to shout, to scream, to fucking move. But he can’t. 

The bathroom door swings open and he looks at you, then back at the window.

There’s nothing. No one.

“What’s wrong, honey?” your voice is soft and breezy, “It’s just the dark.” 

He looks almost manic, hunched over as he looked between you and the window, “There w-was something there. With red fucking eyes and it was staring at me.”

He looks at the window again and that’s when he shouts, “There!” he points and jumps off the bed, “Right there!”

You look to where he points and in the dark, you know he won’t see your smile. But Miguel will. 

You tilt you head, “Miggy, there’s nothing there. Are you okay?”

“Wha- how can you not see that?!”  he sputters and you walk over to him, turning his face away from the window, “Calm down, love. I think we should go to a doctor. In fact, I’ll make an appointment tomorrow, it’s the weekend anyway.”

 He takes your hands off his face and sighs, “I know what I saw.” he hugs you.

Your eyes flit to the window and you see one of the scarlet eyes shut in a wink. And then they disappear.

Your hand smooths his hair down, “We’ll be just fine.”

—---------------------

“I think it’s just stress, Miggy.” you say as you drive back from the clinic. He’d been subject to a number of tests by the doctors trying to find something wrong with one of the head scientists of the corporation that funded their work. Of course, they found nothing, but they did advise him to rest,  “After all, you spend so much time at work.” you shake your head in pity, “I’ll take off for a few days.”

“No!” he winces when you turn to look at him with an eyebrow raised, “I mean, no, you don’t have to. I’ll be alright. It’s just stress. You dob’t have to sacrifice your work.”

“Oh nonsense.” you wave him off, “It’s not a sacrifice to take care of the man I love. Unless, you want me to stay out of the house.” you chuckle, “You want me to stay out, honey?”

“No.” his voice breaks, “Of course not.”

A ting! Sounds from his phone and you peak at the notification thats from Dana.

“Is Dana coming over?”

He double takes, “How- nevermind. Yeah, she said she’d be visiting in an hour or so.”

You hum, with a small smile and swerve to the right, and he jerks and almost hits head on the window. You park, “Could you bring the groceries in?” you gesture to the shopping you’d gotten done when he was at the clinic. You smile and get out, leaving him behind.

He sighs and gets out, shutting the front seat door while opening the back one and taking out the paper bag. He notices a man standing opposite the car with his back turned to it.

He’s wearing the same clothes that Miguel’s wearing. And when he turns around he takes his shades off and he stares at him with red eyes. Miguel draws ina sharp breath.

If you ever see someone that looks identical to you, run away and hide.

His phone rings and he looks down at it and cuts the call. When he looks back him, the figure has disappeared. Shit. Shit.

Run away.

Hide.

He looks to his right, to where the entrance to the building is and he doesn’t even take a step before pain blooms across the back of his head. He doubles over with a groan but is pulled back by his hair and he can feel a sharp pain at his neck.

Then, darkness.

—-----------------------------------

“Miguel, I swear to god.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “This wasn’t the plan!  How do I explain how he magically arrived here after fainting downstairs? You know the plan was that I dru-”

“Tell him a tall, nice man helped you.” he snarks and you resist the urge to throttle him. You settle for a glare that makes him chuckle.

“Relax, Sweetheart. He’ll believe you. Now I've healed the puncture with bacta spray and the wound is gone.” he gestures to the man currently spread out on your shared bed, “I need you to wake him up, tell him he passed out from exhaustion. I’ll take it from there.”

You look up at him, “Thank you. For wasting your time on this.”

His hand comes to rest on your shoulder and it tingles, “No time wasted, I assure you.” he nods reassuringly, “Now wake him up.” He rolls his shoulders and settles down on the plush couch you have that faces the bed.

You flick some water from the bottle you keep on the bedside table onto your husband’s face and when he wakes with a start, you fall into the role of the worried wife.

“Oh my god! Miggy! You’re finally awake!” you cup his face, “I was so worried! Are you okay?” His widened eyes look inyo yours and his furrowed eyebrows soften.

“I-I blacked out. There was this guy who looked like me and-” his gaze travels behind you to fall on the couch and he freezes at the sight of the menacing man staring at him with those fucking red eyes. 

Run away and hide.

“Baby.” he looks back at you, “Do not  look back.”

The room is silent. You can see Miguel in the reflection of your husbands eyes. Like the snap of a branch, the doorbell rings and youre forced to turn around, much to your husband’s protests. 

You lock eyes with Miguel and look back at your husband with incredulous eyes, “Miguel, are you crazy? There is nothing there!” 

“Can you not see that?” he stretches his hand out to make a point and Miguel scowls.

“I can see absolutely bullshit!” you raise your voice.

The bell interrupts whatever he was going to say and take a deep breath. 

“I’m assuming that’s Dana?” you raise and eyebrow and he nods, “I’ll get it.”

“No! Don’t leave me with that fucking thing!” he points to where Miguel sits and then at you. You groan.

“Then you go and open the door!” 

“FIne!” he storms out, wobbling just a little. You hear the door open and your stomach drops when you head Dana’s voice.

“Hey.” Miguel says and you look down, “You’re going to be okay.”

You nod, “I’m going to be fine.”

He gestures to the door and you steel yourself before stepping out, a smile making its way onto your face as you spread your arms and greet Dana who replies with her high pitched voice. Even your husband seems to be in a better mood and you can’t help but remember the hologram.

“I love you” he kissed her neck softly and she giggled.

“Hey!” Dana says your name, “You okay?” 

“Youre going to be okay.”

You snap out of you daze, “Yeah, sorry. Long day.” you smile again and she pouts almost condescendingly.

“Awwww, I’m sure you’ve had a tiring day. Writing is such a hard profession.” she says airily.

You grit your teeth, “Tea?”

“Yeah honey, I think we’d like that.” Miguel smiles.

As you walk to the kitchen, and get out the ingredients, Miguel recounts the events of the day to Miguel and she scrunches her nose and laughs. She, too, says it’s just stress. Only this time, he listens. You swallow hard and go back to boiling the tea.

The apartment is built in an industrial style, and very much an open plan. The design is such that Miguel can see you from the bedroom. He can see your hands flying to open and close cabinets and crushing cardamom and washing tea cups. Living a life so different from the one you live with him.

The teacups clink as you place the tray on the coffee table. They take the cups and sip the tea with relish, like they always do. Miguel sighs contently and Dana groans with satisfaction.

“Have fun.” you grin, “I gotta shower. I’ll see you in a bit.” you whip around to speed walk awkwardly to the bedroom. Cursing at yourself inwardly because really? That’s the best excuse you could find?

Paces away from the bedroom, your eyes meet Miguel’s. The variant of your husband. This variant who had patched you up, and got you food and held you and was currently waiting for you and wasting his time on your petty revenge.

You breathe from your mouth so they can’t hear the sniffles you’re trying to hide as you shut the door.

```````````````````````````````

The door shuts with a click as you step in and in five seconds, Miguel curses his stupid enhanced hearing and winces. You give him a sad smile and he moves to wrap his arms around you. Your hands go around his neck and you look up at him. After a few moments, his head dips, and he’s so close. So close that the both of you are breathing the same air. Noses nuzzling each other, cheeks rubbing against the other and lips leaving their light feather touch on the other. 

He can hear the small sniffle you try to hide and he does the only thing he can think of to make you think of anything else. His head hides in the crook of your neck and he breathes in your scent. He relishes the small sounds that leave you. He lets them envelop his senses, so he doesn’t have to hear whatever is going on in the next room. His hands travel the expanse of your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt.  It’s a messed up dance you’re both in. He knows that. But, god, you’re so soft and-

Oh.

He breathes out a moan. Your lips are on his neck, gently mouthing at flesh. Your eyelashes leave whispers of kisses in their wake that make him lurch forward and pick you up. Your legs wrap around his waist like it’s an instinct.

The windows bathe you in the setting sunlight. And you look ethereal.

But. You’re not her. You’re not his love. Her smile was different, her hair shorter. Her eyes are softer. His head wracks with guilt but then he looks at you again. You’re doing the same. 

He can hear the laughter from outside, but it’s like time stands till as the both of you look at each other. Searching for what is missing. Using the other for their own comfort.

Like a reverent follower, he gazes at you. Like you’re his saint. He wants to say the words. To tell you to use him. So that the both of you can have some semblance of comfort in each other. Your head dips down and your lips brush his and his eyes shut. Succumbing to the feeling.

Two thuds are heard and you pull back, “That was fast.”

“Wait, you used the drug?” his eyes widen and you smile.

“Well, what’s left now but to take them to HQ?” you chuckle.

The hall is silent. There is no laughter.

He smiles.

[valkyyriia]

Day 6 - Voulez-Vous Coucher Avec Moi?

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 1626 CW: Voice Kink(?), PiV, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Standing Sex Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader Prompt(s): Voice Kink | Discipline/Punishment

Notes: When looking at the list I realized I didn’t really know how voice kink worked, so I talked to @natimiles about it (like I do everything, really) and she explained it and I had the wonderful idea of Comte realizing that the reader thinks it’s hot when he talks in French, so he starts doing it more in the bedroom, and as a result she basically Pavlov’d herself into getting horny when he speaks French to her.

Still not certain this is voice kink necessarily, but… it’s what I’ve got.

Edit 10/7/24: Thanks @floydsteeth for pointing out the context behind 'ma belle fille' and explaining how to fix it. It's really appreciated!!

You had accompanied Comte to a dinner party tonight. The two of you were seated next to each other at a banquet at le Duc de Guermantes’ manor. Le Comte was amicably chatting with le Duc, the two of them being old friends, while you were seated across from your friend, Claudine.

They were speaking in French, as one would expect in Paris. Generally at home, le Comte tended to speak more English for your sake. You were still learning French, after all. Your French had certainly improved after living with him for as long as you had and you certainly weren’t having trouble following the conversation they were having, but..

Something about hearing le Comte speak in his native language was just hot.

He could probably read you a copy of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, entirely in French, and you’d still be just as hot and bothered.

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, a sigh falling from your lips. This did not go unnoticed, much to your chagrin.

Le Comte moved a hand to rest on top of your thigh. The warmth of his palm was nearly scalding as he caressed the clothed skin with his thumb. You looked up at him and saw his attention was still firmly on le Duc. Or well, if you hadn’t known him as well as you did, you’d think so, anyway.

No, with the way he was touching you, he was definitely more focused on you than he’d care for anyone else to know.

You looked away from him and across the table towards Claudine. She made eye contact with you and grinned cheekily, her eyes flickering over to le Comte’s profile before meeting yours again. You flushed and looked away. Her grin widened.

“Mademoiselle, are you feeling okay? Your face is flushed,” le Duc said to you, a look of concern on his face. Comte also turned to you, peering into your eyes worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you said, waving them off with a smile. “I’m just a bit warm. Do you mind if I step outside for a moment to cool off?”

“Of course not,” le Duc replied. “Take all the time you need.”

You moved to stand, Comte’s palm subtly leaving your thigh as you did so. He instead brushed the back of his hand against your forehead, testing your temperature. His hand was cool, thankfully, and you leaned into it.

He hummed. “You are feeling a bit warm, chérie. I hate to cut our visit short, Monsieur le Duc, but I think I should get this one home before she starts feeling any worse.”

You protested. “Comte, I’m fine-”

“Nonsense,” le Duc said, shaking his head. “We can always schedule a dinner for another time, just the four of us, when you’re feeling better. Your health is important, Mademoiselle. Take care of it.”

Your argument died in your throat. You couldn’t very well argue against that, even if you weren’t actually sick. It’s not like you could just tell them you were horny. You just sighed, accepting your fate, and nodded with a smile. Comte stood and held his hand out for you, which you took, and he escorted you out of the manor with an arm around your waist.

Once seated in the carriage and headed home, Comte looked at you questioningly.

“What?” You huffed.

“Care to tell me what’s got you so worked up, chérie?” Comte asked, switching back to English now that it was just the two of you.

You pouted. “I’m not worked up.”

Comte nodded. “Of course not,” he said breezily, lightly brushing his hand across your neck. You shivered at the contact and he raised an eyebrow.

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but thought better of it and just turned away instead. Comte chuckled and pulled you close to him, whispering into your ear with a slight purr. “You’re embarrassed about it, whatever it is.” His breath tickled the shell of your ear and you shuddered. “It’s not my voice. You don’t usually react like this when I talk to you.” Comte kissed your temple. “Or is it?” He repeated, slipping into French.

You swallowed and he chuckled into your ear. “I see,” he murmured thoughtfully, thankfully back in English. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, chérie. I will gladly speak to you in French as much as you’d like.” Comte kissed your cheek. “Perhaps I should start once we get home, hm?” He then continued in French. “Or maybe for the rest of our carriage ride?”

You swatted at him. “That’s not fair and you know it. You don’t even have to try!”

Comte just laughed.

The moment you were back in Comte’s bedroom, he was behind you and unlacing the ribbon that held your dress together. His hand was lightly caressing the skin there and he dropped his head to your shoulder, kissing the bare skin. If it weren’t for the way he was running his fingers over every inch of your body, you might think he was just trying to help you undress. But then he opened his mouth.

“You’re beautiful, chérie. Ma belle.” You shivered.

He continued to touch you, running fingers over your skin and kissing your neck and shoulders. All the while, Comte was whispering sweet nothings in French. Every kiss was punctuated with a sweet word, and every touch was followed by a kiss. Your dress lay puddled around your feet on the floor and he was still touching you, his fingers tracing every curve and plane of your body.

Comte had barely gotten your clothes off and you already felt like your skin was on fire, your center damp and aching. He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts. His thumb and forefinger on each hand tweaked at your sensitive nipples and you gasped, arching into Comte’s firm chest.

“So séduisant, mon amour,” Comte purred, kissing your shoulder. “I love seeing you fall apart in my hands without me even really touching you.”

You whined. “Abel, please.”

His lips trailed up the side of your neck and he nipped at your earlobe, pulling another gasp from your throat. He worried the flesh between the blunted ends of his teeth before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. At the same time, his right hand released your breast and drifted down your stomach before dipping between the folds of your labia.

You moaned, leaning against him further, as his experienced fingers rubbed loose circles around your clit. He blew a puff of air against your ear and you arched again, inadvertently pressing your hips into his hand. Your backside rubbed against his clothed crotch and he grunted into your ear, pressing his hips against you insistently.

With one swift movement, his pants were off and he was inside you, holding your back against his chest as he thrust into your heat. His mouth was still next to your ear and he groaned, dirty phrases falling from his lips. Comte’s dirty talking was always superb, but hearing him whisper to you in French while he fucked you was transcendental.

You had barely even started and your legs were already jelly. Comte’s arms tightened around your waist, holding you upright as he pounded into you. You hadn’t even made it to the bed; the two of you were still standing right by the doorway. Comte hadn’t even managed to get his clothes completely off.

His cock was nestled deep inside of you, the angle causing the tip to brush against your sweet spot with every thrust. You didn’t even have warning this time before you came, a cry tearing from your throat as your inner walls suddenly squeezed his cock. He swore, not having expected it, and he promptly followed you off the edge. He rutted into you until he was completely spent, slipping from your warmth. Your mixed fluids dripped from between your legs as you all but collapsed in his arms.

Comte was breathing heavily, as were you, but he held you upright. He wiped your sweaty bangs out of your eyes before pressing a loving kiss to your shoulder. “Let’s get cleaned up and get to bed,” he said, thankfully in English this time.

You agreed easily, relaxing against him, your hands on top of his. He chuckled. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“Mhm,” you agreed. “My legs don’t work anymore.”

“The second best compliment a man could receive,” Comte laughed. “Alright, chérie. Let’s get you into the bath.”

You walked into the dining hall the next morning for breakfast, having been just a little behind this morning after the intense night you had had. Comte had gotten up just a little bit before you, intending on letting you sleep in. You stopped abruptly when you noticed that Comte and Arthur were chatting. In French, to your dismay.

When Comte noticed you, he smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You tensed up, giving him a warning glare.

“Bonjour, mon amour,” he said innocently. “Comment te sens-tu?”

You groaned and promptly turned on your heel, leaving the room without even sitting down. Comte chuckled and got up to follow you, his breakfast untouched.

Arthur, ever observant, watched you both leave before breaking into a conspiratorial grin of his own. “Sebas, I do believe your fellow housekeeper has fallen ill once again. I daresay we shan’t be seeing much of her again today.”

Sebastian’s exasperated sigh was his only response.

Dividers by @/natimiles

Taglist: @natimiles @queengiuliettafirstlady @candiedcoffeedrops @goddesswitchmother @candied-boys

@fang-and-feather @faustianfascination @villain-hotline

[thedevillionaire]

Above and Beyond

A “day in the life of” sort of thing - with a few complications, of course. Always and all ways, thank you SO much for reading. 💝

---

And it’s raining.

Again. 

Or, perhaps more accurately, still, Cerberus thinks bitterly, wiping his nose with a tissue barely up to the task. First the Ice chambers and now this absolute nonsense. He hasn’t visited the mortal plane for some time, too long ago to recall precisely when, but he does remember one thing clearly – it was raining then too. Heavier, not this…endlessly drizzling drip-torture affair, but raining.

Again. Still. 

“This damnable weather,” he mutters, more to himself than either of the two awestruck, hapless Demon novices looking up at him. And he can’t for the life of him work out what led to this situation in the first place. Sheer incompetence, apparently. How is it even possible for a basic possession to go so far awry? Just vacate the damn vessel, it’s not complicated, it’s a mortal. Honestly. Ridiculous pastime, possession, anyway. He’s never understood the appeal.

It's all frankly well beneath his station, and ludicrous that he’s here. Why the hell did he agree to this? He's not been thinking clearly all day. And it’s freezing. He’s freezing. The biting windchill whips through the steady, relentless damp, embellishing it, driving it bone-deep. Of all times for both Therion and Suspiria to be away. Who schedules these things? Nobody checks anything properly, he doesn’t…even… Damn it, he is not going to sneeze again. He presses the back of his hand against his nose with significant force in an attempt to quash the rising urge. And…who the hell is this now? He sniffles.

The unexpected and unrecognised arrival doesn’t waste time introducing himself as he starts to deliver his message. “Lord DeVille. I apologise for the intrusion, but if you cou…” 

A swiftly raised index finger halts his sentence.

“Ah-HEHTSHhuu!”

“Gesundheit, my lord.”

Upon receiving an irritated, perfunctory thank you, excuse me and an impatient signal to continue, the emissary nods once in acknowledgement, and does so.

“If you could attend the Healing wards as soon as practicable. I’m afraid there’s been an incident involving Kia.”

A moment of stunned silence as the world and everything in it falls away, irrelevant, meaningless, replaced by a purity of focus vehement and singular. Cerberus, eyes newly incandescent with every bit of that infamous green fire, flicks some stray damp hair back from his face, and wastes no further time.

“Anyone attempting to contact me will burn,” he says, and in a flash of flame is gone. 

---

His arrival at Healing is of course expected, and Riviera's well prepared for it. Less prepared, perhaps, for the usually imposingly stylish Demon king looking…well, more than a little sodden, really. Verging on bedraggled, she thinks, though she’d never say it. But with the look in his eyes as fiercely intent as she's ever seen, that is clearly of no priority right now, and she needs to hurry up and get down to business.

"Okay, well, the first thing you should know is that nobody hurt her, she did this to herself," she begins, adding a hasty, "Not on purpose!" at the expression that received. "No, she attempted a Media skill but unfortunately she was a bit out of her depth, and..."

Cerberus partially hears Riviera's words, taking them in as a wash of information—

...sort of like a concussion, shaken up, disoriented...

partially loses himself to trying to make sense of how things could have come to this—

Kia’s independence, her always pushing through her fears, her trust in herself, and more than that, her trust in him, he's never doubted her but she's...it's gone wrong and gods it stings that she didn’t come to him for help but he knows of course she wants to prove herself, prove she can do this on her own, that any successes would be truly hers and not due to the privilege of his assistance, but...but...

—and partially tries to resist any further surrender to...this damn...

hh-HH...

He recognises when the cause is lost quickly enough, though, turning away to cover an unstoppable, urgent couplet of sneezes in tightly crooked elbow, desperate need recurring.

“Hh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHHhuu!"

"..thought she'd be able to manage," continues Riviera. "So we're just keeping her overnight for..."

"Huh-AHSSCHuu! *SNF!*"

"..observation," she concludes, offering him a casual blessing as he curses sotto voce, excuses himself and gathers several tissues from the box on the countertop. “You sound worse than she does, you know. Need anything for the cold?”

"I am cold, I don’t have one," Cerberus says, exasperation bringing a touch of sharpness to his tone even as encroaching congestion rips away the clarity of his consonants. It's beside the point, anyway. He blows his nose and incinerates the tissues. "Pardon me." A quick, soft sniffle. "I'm fine."

He still, for the most part, believes it. Though it would certainly be nice to be less...damp.

"So, no?" Riviera shrugs amicably. "Hm, okay." She’s not about to press him on the matter, despite the ambient temperature in Healing being notably and comfortably warm. “Anyway, um, Kia’s in – just a moment, let me check – yeah, chamber 3," she confirms, pointing down the relevant corridor. “She’s on some meds, so she might be a bit loopy, if she’s even awake.”

Cerberus acknowledges this, sniffling again, and takes another tissue from the countertop box to once more wipe his recalcitrant nose.

“You know, you’re in the right place if you change your mind about…” Riviera gives a little nod towards the tissue box. "Just saying."

“As I said, I'm fine. Thank you.”

He claims a couple more tissues as he leaves, all the same.

---

His beautiful bonded looks disconcertingly fragile, impossibly delicate, in these clinical surrounds - like she's some sort of precisely crafted porcelain imitation of herself, her mass of rich chestnut waves arrayed over the pillow, framing her in a dark halo stark against the too-bright white bedlinens. She's an illusion, a transience.

She doesn't belong here. She's far too vibrant, too irrepressible for this.

Or just irrepressible enough.

Cerberus sighs and ignores the chair provided, sitting instead beside Kia on the bed, and softly caresses her face.

“I understand why you’d have wanted to try this without me, but…” His voice tender, heartfelt. Confident that whatever the problem had been, he’d have been able to fix it. “Oh, love. I wish you hadn’t.”

Kia stirs, slightly waking to his touch, or sensing his presence on some deeper than conscious level, perhaps, and with a small mm of hazy recognition, reaches out to take his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers as she does so.

He rubs his nose and sniffles again, as quietly as he’s able, and frowns slightly at the very unwelcome thought that maybe he is coming down with something after all. Can't be. It’s just too much time spent being practically refrigerated, and for no good reason. Nevertheless, surely this...overreactive ridiculousness should have settled down by now, despite everything. Does his throat hurt? He's not sure. Possibly.

His breath catches softsharply, urgently – once, twice and twice again – and with no time to extricate his hand from Kia’s, he turns as best he can to smother a rapid, desperate triplicate of sneezes, each more insistent than the last, against his shoulder. “HUHschuu! Hhh-TSSCH-uu! Hhh...hh-HH… hhAHTSSCHUU!”

Kia fully awakens to that.

“Bless you,” she purrdrawls, her voice still thick with sleep and the Healing concoctions she’d taken earlier. She gazes up at him through a mix of delight, relief, devotion, gratitude, and desire, her lucidity mutable, unpredictably shifting.

“Gods, sorry, love. Excuse me,” Cerberus says from behind the tissues he’d grabbed earlier. “Not quite the greeting I’d intended.” He sniffles, and pushes some still-damp, disarrayed hair from his eyes. “Spent almost an entire day in the Ice chambers and then an utterly senseless trip to the mortal plane in all its – *snf!* – frigid delights, and now I… *SNFF!* Well, this. If you’ll – *snf!* – pardon me a moment…” He turns aside to blow his nose.

Kia props herself up against the bedhead a little. "Not a great day for the DeVilles, huh," she says with a gently wry smile, one which Cerberus mirrors, adding a hm of accordance as he immolates the spent tissues.

"Soooo, um...you know what happened here, right?" she checks.

He confirms it with a brief nod.

"You probably think I’m crazy."

"I think you’re wonderful." The sincerity in his voice is absolute, souldeep.  “You’re so brave, darkling.”

Kia smirks. “Incredibly brave,” she quips with a flourish, recalling a very earliest time between them, and a question he’d posed that they playfully revisit every now and then.

The two complete the quote together: “Or incredibly foolish.” They both laugh about it, as they’ve done many times before.

“Yeah.” With a smile verging on wistful, Kia gently strokes Cerberus along his forearm, her expression becoming more serious. “Babe, I know you’ll always go above and beyond for me, but sometimes it’s… It’s just… I mean… You can’t always help me. You can’t just give me everything.”

“I want to.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I know.” Kia presses a loving kiss to the back of her bonded’s hand. “And I’m sorry I scared you. But I’m okay, really, I…I very am, really very really, and I’ve had lots of…” She waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the treatments on the bedside table. “..the things, and I’m not in any pain or anything so you don’t need to be here and I…I guess you should probably go home.”

A wickedsoft chuckle of refutation. “No, I’m afraid I’m going to make rather a nuisance of myself, darkling.”

Kia laughs. "Good." She grins, a little woozily. "I didn't mean it, anyway. Hmm…" She takes a section of his shirt sleeve between her fingers, briefly rubbing. "You're more wet than usual," she asserts, peering at him as if she's cracked some secret code. “Wait, did we talk about this alrea…”

She breaks off as her beloved's breath sharpcatches staccato anew; without intent she inhales deeply alongside him, her fascinated focus almost as captive as his.

“HXXTchu! Ugh…” He groans, lightly coughing convulsively from the effort of stifling. And it was doomed to fail – he knows it, and he inhales again, deep and immediate, and doesn’t bother trying it a second time. “Huh-TSSCHH-uu!” Or…or apparently a third, and after a knife-edge pause and an escalated hitching of breath, he surrenders entirely and sneezes again – powerful, ferocious. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu!” With a fierce sniffle, he presses the back of his hand against his nose with a determination verging on brutal, but the insistent itch still unsated has his breath catching again. Brow creased, he gives over, capitulating altogether to the demanding need. “AAHHTSSCHHUU! Gods, fuck.”  

Kia loses herself to assorted altered states for a moment. "Bless you, you’re so gorgeous, oh my god,” she effuses, rush-of-energy lustlaced, and sends Cerberus a Mindsent doubled-up :Bless you bless you I love you: as he excuses himself, apologises and takes a very necessary moment of recovery.

A realisation occurs to Kia, watching him now, and she voices it: a soft but matter-of-fact you’re getting a cold.

Cerberus almost manages to begin some sort of unconvincing rebuttal, but Kia holds up her hand in a gentle interruption. “It's alright, you're very sexy so you’re allowed to be a bit dumb about some stuff," she says.

She gives a light giggle at his raised eyebrow and wry shake of his head, smiling, in response. Gazing at him both sweetly and covetously for just a little longer, the spike of energy rapidly fading, the state she’s in, she mumbles you work too hard, you know as she passes him the bedside tissue box with a kiss, before closing her eyes and curling up against his chest with a soft sound of contentment.

Cerberus strokes her hair, kisses the top of her head as he embraces her.  “When you’re well, we can go through the Media process of your choosing together, if you’d like,” he murmurs.

“Nuh-uh.” She taps his arm twice in drowsy correction. “When you’re well, we can.”

A knowing, indulgent smile curves her lips, and she curls up closer still.

---

[raina-at]

Pride

Omg, you guys, it's the last one! Where did the month go!

A huge, huge thank you to @calaisreno for keeping is going the entire month, and a huge thank you to all of you for reading and writing and gushing and commenting and crying and making this more fun than it had any right to be. I'll miss this!

I did a Pride ficlet last year as a bonus ficlet because I missed two days. I had a lot of ideas for this year's, and maybe I'll post some of them as bonus ficlets through June, but for now, I say goodbye to May with John and Rosie.

--------

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Dad!"

John puts down the newspaper. Apparently this is a serious discussion. "Yes, love?"

Rosie throws herself into Sherlock's chair and contorts herself into a pretzel-like shape that can't be comfortable. "I'm...um..." It's apparent she doesn't quite know how to phrase her issue, because she's unnaturally hesitant. Sherlock's influence has made her shockingly blunt, while John's influence has made her shockingly foul-mouthed. Arguing with her is a joy. But now, very untypically, she looks confused and a bit lost.

"Ro, whatever it is, you can tell me," John says, leaning forward, a bit worried now.

"It's..." She sighs, looks down at her hands. "It's a bit personal?"

"Oh my god you're pregnant!" John blurts out, his momentary fear overriding his usually good brain-mouth-filter.

"Dad, what the actual fuck! I'm not fucking pregnant!" Rosie rolls her eyes so hard John wonders if she sprained something. "You know I'm on birth control. You went with me to get my first prescription, for fuck's sake."

"Accidents happen, my dear," John says, gesturing at his lovely daughter, who, light of his life, and joy of his world as she may be, was also very much an unplanned pregnancy.

"Fair enough," Rosie admits, deflating a bit. "Still."

"It wasn't a completely unreasonable assumption. You have a boyfriend, you're twenty, I'm assuming you're having sex."

"Please, dad!" Rosie exclaims, the tips of her ears turning red. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life."

"You think I do?"

Rosie makes a very Sherlock-like  'never mind all that nonsense now' gesture. "Anyway," she says, giving John a glare that tells him to shut up until she's finished. "It's actually kind of about Mark."

John nods, to let her know he's listening, but carefully and deliberately keeps his mouth shut, even as he's thinking, If he hurt you, I'll kill him so fucking dead so quickly he'll never know what hit him.

"It's... you know... he's... well, he's a boy," Rosie finally gets out.

John blinks a few times. Waits a bit. When it's clear Rosie won't be any more forthcoming about the issue, he dares to ask, "And?"

She looks down at her hands, studying them with unwarranted fascination. "I'm..." She sighs. "When did you know you were bisexual?"

John exhales audibly. Now he knows what this is about. In a family of mostly queer people, Rosie seems to have assumed she'd be some kind of queer as well. And if anyone knows how complicated identity can be, especially if it's weighed down by expectation, it's John. "Um. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I am."

Rosie looks up, surprised. "I mean. Mum. And Paps. Um. You know..." she makes a 'please fill in the gaps yourself' gesture.

"Look," John says, leaning forward and taking his daughter's hands. "I personally think labels are vastly overrated. If a word, or a label, or a phrase, helps you to better understand yourself, that's great. Use that label as long as it serves you, and if it doesn't anymore, use another one. As for me, I was raised in an environment where being different was bad. What kind of different you were exactly was completely beside the point. And I saw first-hand how the world treated your aunt, so I thought, best not think about it. I wasn't that attracted to men, it wasn't difficult to ignore. Until I met Paps, and you know how difficult he is to ignore."

Rosie grins. "Oh, yeah. So Paps made you bi?"

"No, you know it doesn't work like that. He made me... " John answers, smiling fondly at the memory. "Well, quite simply, he made me fall in love. He was—still is, of course—the most intriguing, gorgeous, infuriating, exasperating, fascinating person I've ever met, and I fell in love with him so hard, and so fast. But I wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready, and it took us years to get our acts together. And part of that was that we both couldn't accept a fundamental truth: The heart wants what the heart wants. Fighting against it only brings misery and destruction." He squeezes Rosie's hands. "So. Do you love Mark?"

She nods, her eyes shining with the truth of it.

"Is he good to you? Good for you?"

She nods again.

"Then who the fuck cares about anything else?"

Rosie's silent for a bit, apparently mulling over his words, still holding on to his hands. "So," she finally says, looking up from her joint hands with a smile. "You'll love me even if I'm straight?"

"Well, love, I suppose I can overlook this glaring character flaw. Also, you might meet a stunning lesbian when you're forty and she'll rock your entire world and turn everything you thought you knew about yourself upside down. And I want you to remember," he says, leaning in a bit more, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'm fine with everything, as long as you give me some grandkids first."

Rosie laughs and pushes him away. "Fuck off."

John gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. "So, sexual identity crisis over? You want to have some tea now?"

"Of course I want tea. But what you're saying, if I understand you correctly, is not to assume I'm straight just because I fell in love with a man?"

"I'm saying," John says, flicking the kettle on, "is that it doesn't matter, love. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace, all these labels are useful if they help you understand yourself. But if you feel boxed in by a label, don't use it. Use another one. Use none at all. Let nothing ever keep you from knowing and understanding your own heart. That's the only thing that matters. I might be bi, who knows. The important thing is that I love Sherlock with all my heart, and that I made a commitment to him. Everything else is just noise."

Rosie is quiet for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the fire crackling cherrily in the hearth of 221B. "You're getting soft in your old age, Dad," she finally says, with a grateful smile.

John hands her a mug, drops a kiss on her head. "Love you too, dear," he says, smiling into her hair.

----

Don't forget that I'm collecting these ficlets here on AO3, and don't forget to check out the wonderful collection of May prompt ficlets as well. I know I'm already looking forward to reading all of them again.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[sebastianswallows]

Hello! Could I offer you a prompt? I often see fics about Ominis experiencing sight for the first time, but how about Slytherin!MC being the one afflicted with a temporary blindness, and now having to rely on Ominis for guidance, 'seeing' the world from his perspective? Maybe as a result of some unruly student's potion experiment? Thank you for your time and work!

Hello, nonny!

Thank you so much for an Ominis prompt! I love to write about this sweetest boy. And sorry this took so long, my dear 💚

Oh my though, I guess I don't read fics with him often enough, because I haven't noticed that many where he experiences sight. Not sure how I'd feel about those, because it... takes away from his character, sort of. I don't know.

Anyway! I have a fluffy little fic for you 😘 Hope you enjoy it!

I wrote it that it was all Garreth's fault, because of course.

— PAIRING: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

She cursed Garreth all the way to the Hospital Wing. The classroom was left in deathly silence after the Gryffindoor’s latest experiment had literally exploded in her face. Professor Sharp seemed… worried, but not very shocked. Clearly, things like that had happened before — especially since Garreth had started studying at Hogwarts. For his part, the boy seemed horribly contrite, or so he sounded as he fretted over her. She suspected at least half of his regret was due to the inevitably harsh detention he had to look forward to — perhaps something even worse, if the damage to her eyes proved permanent.

As she made her way through the castle, leaning on Sebastian and Natty — who both insisted to go with her, the sweethearts — she could think of nothing else. She couldn’t see anything. The last thing she had seen was Garreth’s smouldering cauldron where he was pointing out the way a particular piece of snail shell was melting, and then a great big flash of green, then blackness. She had thought for a moment that she’d fainted, but then she realised her eyes were open. By the time they reached the Nurse, her heart was still pounding at such a frantic rate she thought she was going to be sick.

“Well, she’s blind alright,” said Nurse Blainey after performing a few charms.

“What did you think? That I was lying?!”

“I will wring Garreth’s scrawny little nec—”

“Watch your tongue, Mr Sallow.”

“Can you fix it?” asked Natty in the most politely-frustrated voice she’d ever heard.

There followed a long discussion about what had caused it, which required them to bring Professor Sharp there — who, to his shame, hadn’t exactly been aware of what his students were doing — then Garreth — who also wasn’t sure what had happened with his potion, but he could at least list the ingredients he’d used.

All the while, she waited there in silence, hearing voices all around, footsteps echoing close and far, and tense, worried conversations. The Nurse had placed her in one of the beds in the corner while they decided what to do with her. Natty and Sebastian stayed by her side, quarrelling over what potions they could brew to cure her until she had to tell them to shut up.

By the time classes were done for the day, the Nurse had reached the conclusion that Garreth’s failed experiment, while exceedingly dangerous, would not affect her sight for long. Only a few weeks.

“A few weeks?!”

“Yes, two or three. Four if you’re unlucky.” She could hear the woman shrug.

“What am I supposed to do for three weeks? How can I study? How—”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re not our only blind student. I’m sure Mr Gaunt can be of some help to you during this time.”

She recoiled at hearing it. “I don’t want to be a burden to—”

“Nonsense,” said Sebastian from somewhere behind her. “Ominis would do it happily!”

“I would,” said the boy. A pause followed as everyone else realised he’d entered the room. From the sound of it, he was standing a few feet in front of her.

The Nurse was happy with this arrangement, which meant fewer responsibilities for her. Professor Sharp breathed a sigh of relief, after which he promised to write to her parents and inform them. Sebastian and Natty, meanwhile, were disgustingly supportive, trying all the while to cheer her up. She shunned all of them, and would only go back to the Common Room with Ominis.

“Do you wish to have dinner first?” he asked quietly as they walked out of the Hospital Wing arm in arm.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. “…Wait, are you?”

Ominis chuckled. “Could send Sebastian out to the kitchens to bring us something… He would do it. Careful, stairs.”

They went down step-by-step, and all through the castle, and after what felt like too long they finally made it to the Slytherin Common Room. She knew she was slowing them down, and Ominis didn’t deny it, but he was supportive the whole way — and not in that fretful, exaggerated, compensatory way Sebastian and Natty were, and not in the anxious manner of Garreth…

If Ominis was worried about her condition, he didn’t show it. As cool and calm as the lake, as sturdy as the rock Hogwarts was built on, he was by her side from the first moment.

The first order of business, while Sebastian fetched them a late dinner, was for her to learn the echolocation spell Ominis used to walk around.

“No, don’t hold it pointing down,” he said as he guided her hand. “Straight forward is better.”

“But what if I stumble onto something?”

“The spell will detect it in time.”

“Well I’m not feeling anything yet…”

“Just… try to cast it harder.”

“Cast it harder? You’re terrible at teaching spells. I want Sebastian back.”

“Yes, well, Sebastian can’t cast it,” mumbled Ominis.

“What can’t I cast?” asked the boy as he dashed into the Common Room.

She could already smell ham and cheese and the salty-sweet aroma of cold sausages. Two plates clinked as Sebastian placed them on the table by the fireplace, where she and Ominis were standing.

“My echolocation spell.”

“Ah yes, can’t cast that,” he said, followed by the soft floof of him plopping on the sofa.

They didn’t make much progress on that first night. His wand was far more accustomed to performing it than hers — but the promise of being able to learn it helped her sleep that night, after an hour or so of crying in fear and anger.

Waking up the next day was disorienting. She felt herself wake, she felt her eyes open, but not seeing anything seemed so… unreal. She nearly panicked all over again. Being in the dungeons, there was no sunlight to feel on her skin to let her know whether it was even morning, but then she heard the other girls shuffling around the room.

Imelda led her to the washroom, and later helped her dress — and for once, she didn’t have a snarky thing to say.

“Must be quite a nightmare,” the girl commented in what she perhaps imagined to be a sympathetic tone. “Can’t imagine flying in this state…”

“Yes, well, thanks Imelda, neither can I…”

She was relieved to hear Ominis’ voice again when she came downstairs.

“Over here!”

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, arms stretched in front of her in what she was sure must’ve been comical.

“You have a distinctive magical echo.”

“Do I…?”

“And Sebastian told me.”

“Morning,” the boy grinned from behind his friend.

Still, Ominis must certainly have been good at detecting where she was, because she felt his hand cup hers within seconds.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Just followed the sound of your voice,” he smiled.

“It all sounds the same to me…”

“You might think it does now, but eventually you’ll find it’s easy to tell distance by sound… The whole castle has very good acoustics for this sort of thing, in fact.”

“You make it seem so easy,” she smiled, her eyes tearing up at the sheer scope of all she had to learn to just survive the next few weeks.

“I promise you’ll find it easy too,” said Ominis, placing his warm hand on top of hers as she held his arm. “Open fields, now that can be an issue. But inside, here? You’ll get used to it in no time.”

Sebastian followed them for breakfast, but walked at a bit of a distance, letting Ominis explain things. Going to the Great Hall was a bit faster today than going to the dungeons had been the day before. She walked a bit more confidently already…

Breakfast was spent learning more about judging distance by sound.

“Here, now you try,” said Ominis, handing her a jug of pumpkin juice and an empty glass.

He’d just demonstrated how easily she could guess when a cup was close to filling by the sound the liquid made as it was poured — from a deep sound to a high one. She filled it just the right amount.

“That’s very good!”

“Really?” she grinned.

Feeling around the plate with the cutlery was done easily enough, but finding out what each pile of food held relied more on her sense of smell…

“Ah, I… wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What did I just pick up in my spoon?”

“What does it smell like to you?” asked Ominis with a little smile.

“Mashed potatoes…?”

“Well, I just hope you like parsnip porridge.”

And getting food onto her plate presented another difficulty… A few sausages rolled away before she gave up and picked them up with her hands rather than the fork, her knife kept slipping and clanging loudly on the plate whenever she cut into something, and her fingers landed in mustard sauce more than once.

After a little trial and error and a bit more cursing, she finally managed to get something she really liked. She moaned with pleasure, but it was cut short by Sebastian’s giggling.

“Whot?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Nothing,” he said with an obvious smile.

“What did you take?” asked Ominis curiously.

“It’s a seed cake,” she said defensively. “Just a little syrupy, that’s all.”

Sebastian laughed into his fist.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he said again. “Just… always thought you hated spotted dick.”

“Ewww!”

By the time breakfast was over, she was more angry than upset. Ominis considered it an improvement — at least she wasn’t on the verge of crying anymore. He supported her elbow with his hand as they walked out together. When the sounds of students passing by got louder, he felt her clinging to him more.

“Don’t be nervous…”

“Oh,” she said, her hand relaxing, “sorry.”

“It’s not just that,” he chuckled. “I could hear your breathing pick up, and your footsteps too, as if you were stomping on the ground.”

“It’s that obvious?!”

“It is,” he nodded. “For instance, how do you think I feel now?”

She sighed, feeling completely at sea as they walked together to class, in a direction she couldn’t tell, surrounded by noisy students — and Ominis was testing her.

“I don’t know… Calm, I suppose.”

“Why is that?”

“Your voice is low, and your arm is steady, and… and I can hear you smiling when you speak.”

“That’s quite good,” he chuckled.

What Ominis didn’t say was that he also felt worried about her, and worried about how useful he could be in these following weeks, how good of a guide or a teacher… He thought that it was obvious from his clipped tone and his lingering silences, but was glad to be proven wrong.

The first class of the day was, predictably, horrible. They had Charms, and the girl could scarcely follow the instructions on wand movements, had no idea whether the egg she was given had been shrunken and enlarged according to instructions, and was left feeling around for it awkwardly in order to tell where it was.

“How do you even know where to point your wand?” she sighed frustratedly.

“That’s where the echolocation spell will come in useful,” said Ominis from beside her. “It’s not just the direction, but the depth as well, how far something is from you.”

“We have to practice that more,” she grumbled, waving her wand uselessly. “Undercroft, after class.”

They ended up spending every break in their schedule that day in their secret room, with Ominis placing random obstacles in front of her while she tried and tried and… finally succeeded in making her wand cast the spell. It was just before they had to go to dinner.

“I did it!”

“Not bad,” said the boy — and she could hear his voice approaching, could hear his steps resounding in tighter and tighter echoes. “The cast is still pretty weak though…” She could tell he had his hand in front of her wand, judging the strength of the pulse for himself.

“It’s such a strange sensation… I can feel the shape of your hand in mine, through the wand, but it’s…”

“It’s a bit blurred, isn’t it?” he smiled.

“Yes, as if… as if through a fog.”

“Well, I’ve never seen fog,” Ominis chuckled, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

They went to dinner together and this time she walked on her own, holding her own wand in front. She grinned at being able to sense Ominis’ own echolocation spell, like rings on the face of a lake meeting each other.

“Can you feel people’s features with this spell?” she asked quietly as they entered the Great Hall.

“Not particularly… The size of someone, perhaps, but it is not so fine as to tell you what somebody looks like.”

“Can you tell the difference between, for instance, Sebastian and Garreth?”

“Naturally,” he laughed. “Garreth smells of toxic fumes. Sebastian smells of Confringo.”

Although that dinner was still speckled with splashes of sauce and spilt pumpkin juice, each meal got easier as the week progressed. Her echolocation spell, as well, got stronger. She wasn’t exactly confident enough to run through Hogwarts’ halls, but she found it easier to avoid running into people — and not get bumped into either, as her hearing became better at picking up all motions around her.

Attending class was easier too. She soon learned how to take notes on her own, although she wasn’t sure when she’d get the chance to read them. Ominis taught her a neat trick of holding onto the inkwell and use her fingers to precisely dip her quill in it. To tell whether she’d taken enough ink, she could test it on her finger first and see if the tip felt wet.

“You’re sure you don’t want a self-writing quill?” he asked.

“I want it,” she said, but first I want to do this on my own.

Ominis smiled. “And keep track of the parchment too. Find something as a placeholder for where you left off. Don’t want to write on top of what you’ve already written.”

With his guidance, she mastered a fairly simple system of holding onto the parchment with one hand, finger poised on her last line, and then cupping the inkwell with the other before dipping her quill.

What she still had trouble with well into the second week was spellcasting.

“How… just… how?” she hissed, smacking her wand up and down during a particularly troublesome Transfigurations class.

She heard a subtle laugh, and knew that it was Ominis. “Having trouble?”

“How am I expected to transform this damned ferret into a feather duster when the damned thing keeps moving?!”

Ominis had mastered the spell quickly, she thought, as she could hear no more animal squeaks from his side. About half the class had finished, judging by the mix of sounds from satisfied students and ferret trills.

She felt a warmth approach her from the side. Ominis took gentle hold of her wrist.

“Here,” he said, “maintain the location spell, and do the motions of the transfiguration spell from your wrist.”

She tried it a few times, his hand constantly around her wrist.

“Listen to where the animal is too, don’t lose track of him in case he runs away.”

She grit her teeth and frowned, ready to give up, but with Ominis’s help, she finally managed to do it just before the class was done.

“Bloody annoying,” she sighed, dropping her wand to the desk and wiping her sweaty palm on her robes. “Thank you, Ominis,” she mumbled. “Doubt I could’ve done it without you…”

“You could have,” she heard him smile. “Just would’ve taken you longer.”

To help calm her nerves, the boy suggested they go for a walk around the lake.

They walked and walked until the sun set. They could feel it as the air cooled all around them, as the evening grew loud with nightbirds, as the grounds became silent with all the other students gone inside the castle…

It felt strange to walk beside Ominis like that, without a word, without a touch, only the quiet sound of his footsteps in the grass. The water of the lake lapped on the shore beside them in lazy little waves, stirred perhaps by the creatures underneath or the light breeze. It set her senses on fire to feel how different it was to have that large, cold body of water on one side, and the warm shape of Ominis on the other — because she could feel it, could feel every detail. Even the wet earth underfoot and the grass, the dead leaves and dry branches, they all had a scent of their own that filled her mind more than the mere image of them ever could. Although she missed her sight very much, she could not deny that she felt more connected to everything around her in this way…

Her hand reached out and took Ominis’s arm — his right one, where he held his wand. Not even needing to ask, he switched it to the other hand and held her palm in his.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, but from his tone, she could tell he wasn’t worried.

“No,” she said. “Just wanted to feel your hand.”

“Well, there it is,” he chuckled. “Bit clammy… Sorry about that. Always gets that way when I hold my wand too long.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Their fingers interlinked as they kept their slow walk around the edge of the Black Lake. A thought kept swirling in her head, and she was torn between giving voice to it or keeping it to herself. She didn’t know if Ominis could tell, but —

“What’s on your mind?”

— of course he could.

“How did you know?”

“I swear I can hear you thinking sometimes. It’s the same with Sebastian.”

She laughed, but said nothing.

“So?” he asked again. “What is it?”

Her hand tightened slightly around his. “I was wondering if you might seem to the touch the same way you look. The face, I mean, and all that…”

“Ah,” he said, his tone teetering somewhere between amused and nervous, “you want to try to… ‘see me’ with your hands?”

“Could I?” she asked, her face turning slightly toward him as if she could better detect how he was reacting to all of this.

“Only if I could do the same,” said Ominis with a tight smile.

They reached as far around the lake as the grounds permitted and sat together on one large, smooth rock. Beneath them, they could hear the lapping of the water, quiet and gentle, and owls hooting far off in the woods. It felt almost as if she were floating on air, cross-legged, far from the ground, with nothing surrounding her but the cool night.

They tucked their wands in their pockets and fiddled their thumbs, both too timid to start.

“Well, you asked,” said Ominis after a prolonged nibbling of his lips, “so you go first.”

“Alright,” she sighed, her mouth pulled up into a nervous smile.

She stretched her hands before her gently and was almost startled when they reached his chest. His school uniform was much like hers, a little rough, but well tended to. Moving upwards, she reached his neck, and quickly skipped it until she felt the smooth line of his jaw with both her hands. For no reason at all, her eyes closed. Perhaps it felt more peaceful that way…

His chin was delicate and pointed, leading up in soft angles to his ears. Moving inward, her thumbs traced his high cheekbones, his temples, his arched brows, then dipped delicately over his eyes — his were closed as well. She smiled as she tickled the surface of her fingers with his long lashes.

“Well?” asked Ominis. “Is there a resemblance?”

“I think so,” she smiled. “You look the way you feel.”

“Oddly poetic of you,” he chuckled.

Her hands slid slowly down his face, framing his slightly long nose, falling then to his lips, soft and full. She gasped at feeling them, noting things she never realised before: how delicate they were, how defined, and slightly dry… She traced down to his chin again when she felt them part.

“Yes, I suppose that’s you,” she joked. Her giggles filled the tense air around them. She could feel him smile against her fingertips.

“My turn now,” said Ominis.

She squeezed her hands in her lap as she waited, and then the boy surprised her by cupping her face and slowly bringing them together, covering her like a mask.

He felt her from chin to forehead, taking in the full plains of her features, before he began to touch them each in part. He brushed her eyebrows upward, traced the shape of her eyes, ran his finger delicately down her nose to the tip, and brushed his thumb against her lips while his other hand caressed a broad path from her forehead to her jaw. She felt very thoroughly known after this…

They walked back to the castle in silence, hand-in-hand. As they did, she noticed in herself a feeling of… peace, of not caring anymore that she couldn’t see. She missed the colours of everything around, of course, the beams of light, the peaceful glow of the Slytherin dorms, the star-filled sky at night, but she didn’t feel like she lacked anything anymore.

That made it all the more shocking when, three and a half weeks into her blindness, she began to see vague shapes of light. Ominis’ thin face bloomed into a smile when she told him. She could see it in spite of the cloudiness of her vision.

She still used the echolocation spell to get around, and breakfast became easier, but the blending of shapes and colours so overwhelmed her senses that often she would close her eyes when she wished to concentrate.

It was probably for the best, as she fell behind on her coursework and had never gotten to practice reading Braille with Ominis. Her notes, she now could tell, were atrocious, and her fingers were horribly stained even now.

As the days passed, her vision gradually improved, and by the end of the fourth week, she was almost back to normal. Her eyes teared, unused to all the details.

“Come now, no need to cry over it,” said Ominis with an awkward laugh. They were returning from another visit to the Hospital Wing, where the Nurse had checked her progress.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffled. “How could you tell, anyway?”

“You mean aside from your voice being all choked up and your breathing irregular? Just a lucky guess.”

“I’m just feeling… too much, I think.”

Ominis took her hand in his. “I know,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll miss it too.”

And she didn’t need to ask what he meant.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 3

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,990, Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Sexism, Arguing, Man trying to get with reader.

A/N: AAAHHHH PART 3?!!? Guys this is so much fun for me and I'm so glad you guys are having fun too. Is it weird that I feel like we are doing this together? Also guys just to warn you... we are getting a little angsty,,, a little violent... So if you are not into it, comment and I will give you the general plot of this chapter if it become too much! Anyway please enjoy, love you guys so much! And if I forgot to add you to the taglist I am so sorry! Just lemme know and I'll amend it! And if you need to see the other parts, click the tag with the title of the series, and it should have all the parts together! Ok I’m done!

The home of Alfie Solomons was the quintessential diorama of an old man's bachelor pad. Despite the anxious and angsty attempts by his elderly maid Sarah, the home still carried the air of a man who not only preferred to be left alone, but also had no plans of adding anyone into his inner sanctum. There was paper and documents strewn about, half read books piled by his favorite chair, a hosting bar cart that was looking more ancient than him, and a massive dog making his home on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Alfie silently thanked Sarah for her efforts. Sarah was the best housekeeper he could have ever asked for, she was essentially silent, and did not scold him for the ever present animal pen he kept. Then only things she asked for was to be paid on time, for her Sabbath to be uninterrupted, and to be warned ahead of time if there was to be company. Luckily, he never had to concern her with the last item.

With a grunt he landed on his favorite chair, studying the unused love seat and the matching chair to his that sat across from him. It was a set that was meant to host, that was meant to have visitors and entertain. He had no idea why he bought them, they looked exactly as they did when he bought them three years ago. Untouched. And yet he couldn't help but imagine you sitting so prettily on the chair beside him. With every inhale he could smell the lingering scent of you on his jacket lapel. Clean, like plain soap and fresh air. A kiss of lavender oil that washed over him as you flipped your hair out of your face. He could see so clearly you laughing at his jokes, pouring out tea for you and him, rubbing Cyrils face and giggling at Alfie's gruffness. He could see you darning a small sock...

With a groan Alfie rubbed the visions out of his eyes like a dream. Because that's what it was isn't it? A stupid stupid dream. You were so... fresh and sweet and... frustrating and loud and obnoxious and such a know it all and... beautiful and kind and smart and...

Alfie huffed and got up to beg for sleep in his room, but his head on the pillow only ran through these reveries even more. You were much to young. 10 years his junior at least. You were pure and kind, and he was a bad man. It was an unequal yoke to carry. He had killed people in the war and at home. He had manipulated and schemed to get this. And you deserved more. You deserved a good man, a softer man. Someone who lived a quiet life and could give you a life above board, where you never had to look over your shoulder. Someone who was gentle and wouldn't argue with you, would just treat you like the Queen of Sheba. That is what you deserved. Not some old gangster with a bad back and dozens of men plotting his demise. With a sigh he resolved his promise. He would take care of you as long as you let him. Protect you from all the mess and nonsense of this job, and let you be the girl you are. And when it was time to let you go... he'd let you go. He could protect you and honor you ask long as you'd let him, but when the right man came along, he’d let you leave, knowing that you were safe. And with a sigh he rolled over, letting himself sleep for a few hours, his mind slipping off into a world where you maybe chose him, and made that other chair your favorite.

Across Camden you had just finished explaining to your mother that your very kind boss had just brought you home after a late night in the office. You had to assure her that you were safe and that he was very respectable, that no danger was present. Though the constant worrying and fussing irritated you sometimes, she was a good woman, a good mother, who just wanted the best for her oldest child.

Your mother and father got married incredibly young, and were forced to become acquainted with the world and it’s imbalances even earlier. Where you still got to be young and childless and educated, your mother at your age had already had you, and was working in the family tailors shop full time. The day you realized your mother could scarcely write her name, you heard your mother sobbing to your father late in the evening. It was then that you resolved to do your best in everything, making sure your mothers sacrifices weren’t in vain. And if it took a little white lie to keep her from having a heart attack? Well… it would be worth it.

“Ah I just don’t know darling, that seems awfully forward don’t you think? I don’t even remember your father being alone with me ever until our wedding night? Are we sure he is a good man? Do you have anything with you in your purse darling?”

“Mama I promise you everything is fine. I think his insistence in NOT letting me walk home is evidence enough yes?”

Your mother fiddled with the end of her long braid, a habit indicating her anxiety, a motion you know well, “Mmm I suppose… but darling I just worry. Young women now… very very independent and it is good but… oh I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of darling. Will you take a weapon or something with you?”

You laughed, and maybe you shouldn’t laugh at your own mother. But… oh it is your mother!!! The sweet woman that she was! Who refused to go to sleep without a candle, and forbid your father from cleaning his gun around her, and dropped many a plate due to loud noises… what does she know about a weapon!! “Mama what weapon?! Shall I bring a hand gun to work? Mama none of us know how to use a gun, except Papa and Eli! I’m ok I promise! My boss is not a dangerous man!”

From her place in the kitchen cabinet you heard her speak, “Oh hush! Of course not a gun!! You are absolutely ridiculous. No just take this pocket knife ok? Oh please don’t look so disturbed! It is in good condition and your father got it for me when he would have to work late at the tailors! Will just put it in your work bag please? For your poor mother? If you love me you’ll do it!”

With a laugh and a kiss on her soft cheek you affirmed her, “Of course mama, I could never refuse your gifts. Now now mama don’t be cross i am not teasing! Just promise me you don’t worry about me anymore! I am a grown woman and I am very capable of taking care of things. I learned from the best yeah?”

You mother nodded and kissed your cheek back, patting your head, “Yes yes. Well thank you my love. Now I’m off to bed, and you should too. Sleep well my darling.”

As you prepared for bed you felt a heaviness in the pit of your stomach. What would your mother say when she found out you had been lying to her? What if she did find out? What if she sees you with Alfie in the street? No no it wasn’t possible. Your mother hadn’t left this side of Camden in a decade, and she hates going farther than two blocks. No no it’s fine. You’re fine. And technically, it wasn’t a complete lie! No Alfie was honorable! And he was sweet! And he was handsome… and kind…. and smart… and rugged… if he weren’t a gangster you would’ve probably been matched with him… to be his wife.. No no! No what a childish fantasy. Those are the thoughts of a love struck child. He was your boss and that was it! So what if he was handsome? You were his secretary and that was it! And if he somehow decided to… promote you… you allowed a giggle to leave your chest as you blew out the lamp next to you. Tomorrow is another day.

Soon you developed a routine with Alfie, and the next few months seemed to fly like a wonderful dream. During the week you woke up, making yourself and Alfie lunch for day. The walk to the bakery was typically a lovely and brisk one, with the rising sun being your partner.

Upon arriving at the office, you make quick work of saying hello to the regular faces, and sneaking a sweet treat to Ollie. You set the kettle on, making sure a nice hot cup is ready for you and Alfie upon his arrival. A healthy amount of milk and sugar for you. Almost no milk for Alfie, but extra sugar. Then the daily schedule needs to be attended to. After working with Alfie for a few months you’ve developed a system of who gets what treatment. Some names get tea and a pleasant seat. Some get very bitter tea and must stand the entire time while they wait. Some get absolutely nothing, and are made to stand with their back to Alfie’s door, wondering how they will be summoned. Shot or call. During the meetings you take copious notes. Partially to make sure you don’t miss anything that Alfie will need to call upon later, partially to make visitors nervous about what is being recorded. You had become quite the necessary tool for Alfie. You added a certain glamour and class to the office. A sort of authority in the way you walked that continued to make weak men sweat in the office. Alfie’s favorite part of these meetings was having you re-read what was said, noticing that you added a certain something to keep the pressure on the other party. You were proving yourself an absolute natural.

It was during a day like this when Alfie came back from a ‘social visit’ with a big smile on his face, “Shalom treacle!! Get your coat darling we’re going out!”

You looked up from the calendar you were organizing, “Shalom Alfie, what do you mean we are going out? You have an appointment at 2, and you need to look at the numbers from last week and-“

“Hush woman, fuck the meeting I said we are going out.”

He grabbed your long coat from the hook, and held it open for you to put it on, “Now my love we have very special things today. You remember the gaming club Tommy mentioned? Well he found a place right? And today we are going to look at it and get a price for it.”

As you put your arms through the sleeves, and grabbed your scarf from Alfie you can’t help but question, “But what does this have to do with me? Why do you want me there?”

Alfie then finished his dressing of you by handing you your bag and offering you his arm, “What does this have to do with you? What does this have to do with you? Have I heard that right? Well my dear you put the fear of the devil himself into men like no other. Make them piss themselves. No no don’t laugh treacle it’s true! I need you to strike fear in the hearts of these sinners and help me find the holes. Think you can do it darling?”

The way he smiled at you… it made you want to do anything and everything for him. You smiled and nodded, “Let’s get on with it then.”

Alfie smiled even greater at the small smirk that played on your beautiful lips. He loved it when you worked with him like this. You walked arm and arm, laughing and carrying on like mischievous children ready to prank their teacher. You arrive at the possible location still laughing when you meet Thomas Shelby, and two other men, who you can only assume are the other Shelby brothers that you’ve heard so much about. Your eyes meet with Tommy’s, and you feel your stomach drop at the wink he gives you before walking toward you and Alfie. “Alfie, glad you could make it, “ he stoops down to grab your hand and kiss it, “Good to see you again darling. Let me introduce you to my brothers.”

You’re introduced to both Arthur and John. Your eyes soften at both their faces. John’s eyes show a soft mirth, a sweetness of a young man who still has so much to learn, much like Eli. Arthur… just looking at him your heart is heavy. You don’t know anything about him but his eyes look sad, and there is a weight to his shoulders that make you already feel quite sorry for him.

It takes about three flights of stairs to reach the top floor of the building. It's musty, clearly has not been used for some time, there are cobwebs and piles of dust over every counter, and the once white cloths covering the tables are now a dingy gray. Your wide eyes look up and around the space, clutching your notepad and pen to your chest, "What did this place used to be?"

Tommy answered, "It was once a bar, a little club run by some young idiot who thought he knew his way around this business. Couldn't make it past a year. Now.... it's been sitting vacant. Waiting for us."

You stray from Alfie's side, making notes of everything that would need to be done, "What all is included in the sale?"

"Everything. Tables, counters, fixtures, chairs. All for a reasonable price if you ask me."

"Mmmm Alfie will be the judge of that I think. Alfie, the wall paper will need to be redone yes? I think a richer color on the walls."

Alfie looked at Tommy and smiled, "Yes you're quite right treacle. A wine red yeah? Something indicative of the debauchery of such a hell hole."

"Mmm yes. Tommy, John, Arthur... how stable is this bar counter? How much would it cost to replace it?"

And so went the rest of the afternoon. You milling around the space making notes and sketches, and supplementing with the comments of the men in the room, who may or may not have been following you like ducklings. John and Arthur pulled curtains to let light in, and frankly John was more than willing to do what it took to gain a pleased smile from you. Once adequate notes had been taken, everyone sat around a table, waiting for the agent to come by and agree to a price.

During this part of the meeting, you tended to hold your tongue, only responding to when Alfie asked you to ‘refresh’ his memory on a particular point. It was these parts of the meetings that you could really see Alfie work his magic. Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons couldn’t be more different. Where Tommy was smooth and steady in tone, Alfie was a hurricane. A bear of a man who ripped things to shreds. Though on the surface it looked as though Alfie was merely destroying and rebuilding on a whim, there was a method. Study his opponent, memorize the motions and responses to his moves, and utilize it against them. Use previous information to flip and return on his enemy. It was a studied craft. Something you knew that had worked on for a long time. It was an art piece, and with every wink he threw your way, it was clear it was not just an act, but a piece of him. He was a gangster, through and through.

Soon enough, a deal was reached, and a plan was set in place for renovations to start the very next day. And in accordance with their 50/50 split, equal men of Shelby’s and Solomons’ men would be taking part in the work. All the men shook hands, you nodded and smiled at the Shelbys, quick to rebuff Tommy’s offer to take your hand again. Alfie seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and as you walked out of the building, he looked at you and said, “Oi... you hungry?"

You stopped and peered up in his eyes that were partially obscured by the wide brim of his hat, "Mr. Solomons are you asking me to dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh goodness... see this is why you can never be nice right? Because there you go... being cheeky with me... can never be a yes or no with you yeah? It's always got to be something with you innit? I mean - "

"Alfie Alfie! Yes I am hungry! Now take me to dinner and buy me a drink yeah?" You laughed at his blustering and grabbed his arm, making him meet your eyes, he huffed in response but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Buy you a drink yeah buy you a drink! Buy you a hobby so you stop harassing old men. I mean don't you have anything better to do than just be mean to your old boss?"

You laughed as you both walked away down the street, "What do you mean a hobby? My whole life now is just doing your bidding isn't it? And someone must keep you humble, all that business makes your head explode."

You let Alfie lead you to a clandestine pub a few blocks away, shrouded by family businesses and laughing people. As soon as Alfie walked in, the wait staff scurried around, clearing a table in the corner for both you and Alfie. Soon enough you had been given food and drink, and you felt increasingly more relaxed in your seat, facing away from the door opposite of Alfie. You allowed yourself to day dream in the comfortable silence you occupied. It didn't feel like dinner with your boss. It felt like dinner with a friend. Dinner with more than a friend. You imagined about what it would be like with Alfie all the time. To spend the afternoon with him walking through town, enjoying the sun and the conversation. To be taken to dinner with him, meet with friends and repeating faces. To be taken back home with him... sit in front of his fire... to fall asleep with him...

"Hello... treacle??" You're knocked out of your reverie with Alfie's bejeweled fingers waving in front of your face.

"Oh my gosh Alfie I'm so sorry! Yes whats wrong?"

Alfie laughed heartily head thrown back, "Goodness darling your mind must've been in fucking Timbuktu! I was asking if you wanted another drink?"

You felt the heat flush to your ears and cheeks and chuckled in your embarassment, "Oh my goodness I'm so embarrassed. No no I'm fine Alfie thank you. You go, I'll keep our table."

Alfie nodded and went to the bar to grab another glass of Rum. You proceeded to look around the cozy pub when a man slid into Alfie's seat. "Well hello beautiful. Mind if I sit here?"

Your eyes rushed to him. Young. Could be handsome if he cared to bathe and wash the stink of liquor off of him and change his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was sweaty. Stupid. Clearly so. "I'm sorry but you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm here with my boss and you are sitting in his seat."

He sneered and winked at you, "Oh I saw the old man alright. Solomons yeah, I know him. I'm not too worried about the old man darling. Why don't you come sit with me yeah? I promise I am much more pleasant company."

The irritation was brewing in your stomach, but in truth you didn't want to cause a scene, "If you know Mr. Solomons then you either have a death wish or you are stupid. Please leave and get away from me. Mr. Solomons will not be happy to see you in his seat."

"You calling me stupid?"

"I am. You are clearly an imbecile, and a drunk one at that, now if you excuse me."

You proceeded to get up to find Alfie, when the man stood up and grabbed your arm, "You dumb bitch, how dare you get up. I'm trying to be nice to you!"

The table fell over with a clatter, and you began to scream, "Get off of me!!"

Before you could say another word Alfie came through wretching the man's hand off your arm, squeezing the man's neck."Now you listen to me right? You apologize to the young lady right now."

The young man's face began to slowly turn red, but he managed to splutter out, "Or what? You're gonna hit me with your cane?"

Alfie only seemed to squeeze tighter, and you saw something in Alfie's eyes that you've never seen before. It scared you. "No... no no... this is what's going to happen. If you don't apologize to the sweet young lady here. I will kill you. If you do apologize, I will not kill you. Now I think... I think that is a pretty generous offer yeah? And little man... I think you know who I am. And I think you know that killing little vermin like you doesn't bother me the least bit yeah? So what will it be? Quickly now!"

Without Alfie letting go, the slowly purpling face gasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm so... sorry ma'am."

You nodded back, feeling bile rise in your throat. Alfie dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor with a crack of the table. Without looking away from the gasping man he yelled to seemingly no one and everyone, "OUT!"

Every patron but you and the owner scrambled out with out a second thought. The bar owner locked the door and went to the back, and you felt your pulse quicken ringing in your ears. The sick in your stomach swirling. Alfie circled the still gasping man, who had bruises blooming on his throat, "Now... who taught you to grab women like that eh? Who said that was ok?"

The man didn't respond, and in anger Alfie kicked him right in the ribs. You screamed behind your hands as you heard the sickening thud and crack. Alfie grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall, 'WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK YOU CAN GRAB MY SECRETARY! YOU CAN GRAB MY GUEST?"

The young man began to sob, begging, and saying he was sorry. Alfie only continued, "Oh you crying now yeah? I thought you said you knew about me and weren't scared. That's why you thought you could harass my sweet secretary yeah? Well let me get you better acquainted."

With that, you saw the Mad Baker of Camden for the first time. Beating and beating and beating the man in front of you. Blood coating the knuckles of Alfie, as the young man's face proceeded to take the most brutal beating of it's life. You tried to stay quiet but it became too much, "ALFIE ENOUGH! It's enough Alfie!"

He paused, fist mid air as the man quivered underneath him. Alfie turned to you, "Enough? It's enough?? This man touched you without your permission and this is enough?!"

"You're going to kill him Alfie! Please enough!"

"I determine when it's enough!"

And he went back to punching him, growing more and more wrathful. And it became too much when the groans stopped, but the punches didn't. All you could do was scream at Alfie and weep. When Alfie finally finished and was heaving, you shoved a napkin in Alfie's hand and left without a word.

You began walking down the street, the tears streaming down your face. You didn't want anyone to see you crying, and the slowly setting sun aided. It was going to be an hour walk home. Your feet will hurt by the end of the night. But you didn't care. You needed the walk. You needed the air. You needed the scent of blood out of your nose and the sight of Alfie out of your mind. You had walked for who knows how long when you heard Alfie's voice yelling over the sound of a car, "Get in the car NOW!"

You looked over your shoulder, Alfie was yelling your name out the window of the car, with Ollie driving. You turned your head back and kept walking forward. You kept hearing Alfie curse, yelling your name, "Stop being a child and get in. DO AS I SAY NOW!"

"OR WHAT? YOU'LL BEAT ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE??"

You tried to keep walking, but in a dangerous move the car sped and swerved in front of you, blocking your walk. You gasped as Alfie got out of the car, with a red stained, jeweled finger in your face, "Listen to me... you stop this act. You get in the car right now. You can be angry at me all you want but listen to me... you do not walk home alone. You work for me, you don't walk alone at night. Now. Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."

Tears were still streaming down your face, and you were so so angry with him, but you didn't have a choice. And your feet were hurting. With a huff you walk in the car, not letting him hold the door open for you. You sat in your seat, nodding at a very embarrassed looking Ollie. As soon as Alfie sat next to you, you stared out the window, looking at all the apartments whose occupants were definitely not listening in to your argument. You sat in silence for a few moments, but you couldn't hold it in any longer, "That was too far Alfie."

"I decide what is too far."

"You could have killed him."

"And the world would be better for it."

"You cannot treat people like that Alfie. He was just a child."

"A child who definitely would have hurt another woman in the future, he needed to learn a lesson."

You turned to him then, "Oh and that's how people are taught then yeah? Beating them to a bloody pulp any time they make you upset?"

He leaned in to your face, getting dangerously quiet, "This is my life darling. This is what you signed up for."

You scoffed, "I did not sign up to be a witness to you being a beast! This is not a way to live! This is heinous! You don't have a right to treat people this way!"

You didn't realize your volume, or the way your heart was racing. You were heaving, tears streaming down your face. His eyes... fixated on you. There was rage but you knew it wasn't at you, "I have every right darling. This is the life that has been given to me. Everything that I have, everything that I can give to you, Ollie, and the rest of the men in that distillery, is because of what I do. This world that we live in darling? You think that's fair? Nah... that ain't fair. If you want anything in this life... you need to take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go and never let anyone else take it. This is the way this world works beloved. This. This is what you signed up for. Now either grow up... or don't come back to the office."

You breath stopped. You didn't even consider that option. You felt more tears fall as you turn to face the window again. The rest of the car ride was in agonizing silence. You hated every minute. Alfie made no noise except a huff. After an infinity, you finally reached your home before you could move Alfie put his hand out, "Don't get up yet."

He grumbled as he got out of the car, looked around at both ends of the street, and then went to your door, opening it and helping you out. You refused to meet his eyes but you took his hand. You also let him walk you to the door, and as you reached for the door, you hear him cough and say, "I want you back at the office treacle alright? Course I do. But you really need to decide whether you can handle this. I hate seeing you upset I do darling. But this is who I am. This is the business. Now you need to decide if you can do it. Alright?"

You nodded your head limply. He just patted your head, feeling sick in his stomach, "Alright then. I'll know your answer if I don't see you tomorrow. Good night sweet heart."

"Goodnight Alfie." You whispered, turning your back quickly to run upstairs. Alfie would drive home in complete silence that night, agonizing about what would happen.

You ran past your whole family gathered around mending the laundry in the sitting room. You refused to tell you mother what happened, and didn't let Eli in your room. When your younger sister asked you what was wrong, you just cried in her chubby baby arms, while she patted your head with her child palms. You cried in your pillow, reliving the vision you saw, wondering what to do. You didn't want to see that kind of violence, you had never seen anything like that. But you loved this job. You loved your freedom. You loved spending time in the office, laughing with Alfie and meeting new people. You tossed and turned all night, but sleep would not take you. It was well past midnight when you finally felt the exhaustion of the day creep its' fingers over your eyes.

And then you smelled the smoke.

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia

[asukaskerian]

Battlefield Terra is one of those works that just...changed my brain chemistry for so many reasons. I still go back and read it and think about it. This isnt an ask to return to it (though wouldn't be upset) but just to like thank you for putting the amount of it that you did out there

.__. *squish squish* thank you.

i cannot REMEMBER for the life of me if i ever posted any of the scene bits i had written in the chapter i never completed. first scene is actually one i love a lot, but then the battle scene was overtly complex and too long and had required so many rewrites and nothing worked. hghghhg.

but. anyway. this is the scene with the fallout from the "oh shit i kissed the alien am I GAY after all?????? oh fucking hell why did i notice JUST AT THE SAME TIME AS I NOTICE HOW MUCH HE'S NEVER GONNA *DECIDE NOT TO GO HOME* vfbndjh gnx;"

--

"And this is why it never pays to be stingy with technology," Jane said philosophically from the bucket seat next to John.

Strapped in like a sausage in its skin, John still managed to turn his helmet and grin at his sister. "Aw, come on, you didn't want the industry to cut into its profit margin, did you."

In the corner of his -- of all the pilots' -- glasses was an explosion of Spanish and Chinese sentences, nonsensical words, and Roxy-worthy typos.

The industry thing was mostly a joke; the think-typing-thoughts interface had first been developed for quadriplegics and amputees, and outside of hardcore nerds and professionals whose job required they be able to code very fast, people still preferred using their actual hands. One good reason for it: at the level of miniaturization necessary to put the brain sensors into glasses, it was new enough to still be expensive.

The new communication hub was a complete mess of hundreds of people trying it on for the first time, and it was hilarious.

"--Wow, hey, I know what that guy is doing! Oh my god, it's excellent, he's trying to think in sign language." Roxy giggled, tried to kick her feet only they were also strapped in. The craft was still accelerating, after all. Bleh. "Only then he has to transcribe into English, and he's doing it super literally! Hehehe."

Jane perked up a little. "Huh! No wonder the grammar was odd."

ID28YB: holy shit were all guna die in space aaaa

ID28YB: on the upside italics!

ID17NC: fuck how do you backspace backspacebacmlnpi

ID13JA: SARGANT MY CAPCLOSK IS FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ID01JA: Like shit it is, PrivatE.

ID01JA: DamN.

ID98NZ: fifty Nine bottles of beer ON THE WALL, take one DOWN pass itaround FIftynIneBOTTLES on Thewall!!!!!

"I'll be so glad when they lock it down to emergency communications again," Jade said from John's other side, and sighed.

"At least the bosses forbid them to use colors," John said, trying for consoling. (He kind of failed, mostly because he was snickering.)

Jake chuckled from his seat at the end of the line, on Jade's other side, but didn't add anything. He hadn't really been talking much ever since they took off, and since they couldn't lean out of their seats it was really hard to see what face he was making. John wondered if he was worried about --

Of course he was worried. And if John thought about all the reasons why, he was going to start to fret too. His stomach was already in a knot behind the adrenaline grin, no need to double down on it.

"Hey Jake," he threw out, with no idea what kind of light-conversation topic he was going to pull out. "D'you think--"

"Say, chaps, I think I feel lighter!" Jake interrupted.

"Huh, yeah, maybe?" John tried to bounce his leg and wasn't sure if there was a difference yet. It was hard to feel the lessening weight of his body when it was such a knot of anticipation already, and when he couldn't move. "Wow. Are we reaching cruising speed already? There was no announcement--"

The door opened and Corporal Vantas stepped through.

(Not Karkat. There was a difference.)

"Woohoo, you clean up nice!" Roxy said with a whistle as he stalked closer in his alien boots and his space-black flight suit, head bare but for the jarringly pink headset nestled against his horns. John noticed all over again that his skin was slate gray, that his eyes were violently red and yellow.

That he moved through the heavy gravity of the rocket's push like it wasn't even there, when John himself -- at least at first -- would have wobbled.

"What mean -- no, I don't care."

He sat beside Jake in the free seat at the end that should have gone to Dirk, and disappeared from John's view, what with the helmets and the protruding edges of the bucket seats. John swallowed and put a smile on his face, even though no one was going to see him. For a second he had thought Karkat was coming toward him. Haha, silly.

"No more talk with the Generals, Karkat?" Jane asked, tone forcefully light.

"Mm. No."

"Talk with us now? Do you have anything important to say or just hanging out?"

John's eyes flitted over the logs on his glasses, the higher ranks starting to organize to separate the chatter by platoons. It was still mostly banter and bad jokes.

"...Hanging out? Yes. Hanging out. Here, not... other here. I'm Corporal not General, it's not fucking right I'm with them."

It was the exact same tone the Marines John knew used when they got offended when their chain of command got dumbass ideas. Heh.

Maybe a little hesitation. Maybe just the translation issues.

JH: haha, you guys *wish* you could type in colors!

ID28YB: if by colors u mean rainbow fruity goodness then sure :(

ID28YB: i wanted mauve goddamn!!

JH: maybe better that you can't have it, echidna would have had to cut you. :'(

(Urgh. He missed Rose. He wished she were well enough to fight with them today.)

Jade joined the conversation, asked Karkat about... John wasn't listening. What the politicos had told him, when he was alone with them without a translator. Stuff. Boring stuff.

Karkat's low, gravelly voice kept slipping into his ears no matter how hard he tried not to pay attention to the words. ("You talk I fall on you a lot. Maybe you want --")

Anyway when the loudspeaker in the wall started talking he was pretty glad.

"Attention troops, cruise speed has been reached. Stay seated until your immediate superior allows you to stand..."

Two clicks echoed around him, Jade and Roxy undoing their security harnesses in unison.

"Oh my god, I'm so stiff," Jade groaned. "I'm going to check on Remington, anyone wanna come with?"

"You sit still for longer stretches of time in battle," Jane pointed out as she freed herself in turn, as Jake was still fighting his clasps.

"In battle my seat is perfectly adapted to my butt!"

The girls started to file out, talking about butts, and John almost heard Dave mentioning butt massages, almost mentioned it himself but. No. That would have been wrong even if two thirds of the lot weren't family.

He thought of following them. He would just skip along, snicker and stretch his legs and tease the Marines and...

"See you guys later," he said instead, waving without looking, heart a pulsating knot in his throat. "Karkat and I have to practice the telepathy-typing thing. Well, mostly me."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, listened to the tread of boots on the hard plastic floor.

He didn't need to look in order to know which one of them was Karkat, getting up and moving one seat down the line.

Leaving one seat empty between them. Huh. John wasn't sure how to take that one.

"Huhn. You want telepathy now?"

John winced to himself. "It's pretty much now or in the middle of battle, isn't it?"

A beat of silence, and then Karkat grunted an acknowledgement. "Mm."

"Mm," John agreed, and kept on not making a move toward his own headset. Karkat's was already in place, possibly already turned on. John just had to tap.

"Maybe we speak and then headsets," Karkat suggested.

"... Yeah, maybe that."

John made a superfluous noise of agreement, and then groaned and pushed his helmet off his head, tucked it between his feet. He took his gloves off next, dropped them inside the helmet, and then buried both hands in his hair to scratch and rub with vigorous frustration. It did not soothe him as much as he had hoped for.

"This is the worst timing," he groaned, muffled, as he curled forward until he could prop his elbows on his thighs and lace his fingers behind his head. His spine cracked.

The worst timing, and the worst thing. He wasn't sure he'd have taken it much better elsewhere, with more time to take care of the fallout. It sucked. His head was a mess just when he absolutely needed to be as perfectly in the zone as he had ever been in his entire life.

"I'm sorry," Karkat said quietly. "We do big things today. I was stupid. Even if you said oh yes good, kissing! it's other things in our head and we can't have other things in our head now. I didn't do the good thing."

John groaned quietly, face prickling with heat, and closed his eyes. "No, it's... Yeah. Yeah, okay, that wasn't -- the right time. But you... You were right. I was looking."

He hadn't managed to stop looking even once since he'd seen Karkat naked, coming out of his slime. Maybe he had even been looking before that, playing it off as fascination with Karkat's alienness. Kind of like 'haha no I just like looking at his horns because they're weird, so random amirite!' only with everything else on top of the horns, like his little bitey teeth on goth-black lips and his bare toes and the fit of his goddamn dress suit at the summit--

"So why--" Karkat fell silent, drew in a breath, and then released it in a long, hissing sigh and muttered under his breath in alienese. John couldn't even offer a guess from the tone this time around.

Why did you kiss back, he could have been asking. Why did you stop kissing. Why did you never make a move. Why did you make a move now. Why are you such an idiotic mess.

Answer was the same for all of them, anyway. "I don't know."

"Why do you not know that?!" Karkat shot back -- more incredulous than angry, but John winced anyway. "How you look at a people and don't know, and other people tell you 'yes, them' and you say 'haha, no' and you're wrong?"

"Oh, shut up!" John snapped as he threw himself back into his chair, his arms coming up to cross tight against his ribs. Even now he couldn't look toward Karkat at all, shoulders curled in and away from the other man. His stomach felt like someone was squeezing it with both hands; his face still prickled with mortification. It was awful, he wanted to get up and run just to get moving, stop having to think on it -- leave the feeling behind -- but he knew better than to think it would work. He knew better and he still wanted to try, flinching and too tense; what a shit condition for battle. Fuck. "I know, okay? I'm the most stupid jerk--"

Karkat's hand was hot even through the glove.

He tugged on John's elbow, lightly, squeezed a little.

"Zhann."

"... Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he said, sounding tired, and his hand fell from John's arm. "It's shit words."

John sneaked him a look; Karkat wasn't looking directly at John either, mouth pinched in discomfort, eyes dim somehow.

"Is it I'm alien and it's gross? So you don't in your head because ... haha, gross, can't be true--"

"No!" John spluttered, turning in his seat as much as he could to face him. "No, no, you being an alien is -- it is weird, but it's not bad, it's just not normal. It's... You're a guy?"

Karkat looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Huhn?"

God. It figured. For all the joking about Karkat being gay that John had been doing like an asshole, he'd mentioned an old girlfriend too, and the cat girl who liked him that he didn't want to lead on, and it had never felt like she was disqualified because of boobs.

Also -- ugh, thanks Dirk and his casual beach gossipping -- Karkat thought Jade's butt was nice, and so was Mr. Strider's. So. Bisexual.

The way he looked now, baffled and not liking it, it was a little like he had never heard of someone who wasn't. Oh boy. What a mess. John raked a hand through his hair, tried to get back into explaining mode.

"It's -- we're mammals, remember? We need a boy and a girl to. To make little humans. That means normally we don't want other males, or other females, because -- there can be no babies? So a boy doesn't have a boyfriend, he has a girlfriend, and... The other way around, too. Boy and girl, yes, boy and boy no?"

"... Huhn."

"I mean. Some men like men! Dirk and Mr. Strider like men. But they knew it pretty early on. They knew when they were kids -- when they were small? -- that they were like that. And I've never." He swallowed. "I've never. Thought about a guy. Like that."

"Oh."

"And it's really weird." He gave a twitch of a shrug, looked away. "... And I don't know if it's because of the telepathy."

"Oh," Karkat said again, but this time he sounded stricken, not baffled.

John dropped a hand on Karkat's forearm across the empty seat, patted awkwardly -- wanted to squeeze or hold his wrist (or hold his hand) but that was just -- even such a short touch made his stomach twist with odd queasiness, his face flush back to maximum redness. "It's okay, buddy. I don't -- it's just. ... Don't feel bad, okay, that's stupid, I just -- it is weird, but --"

Karkat's breastbone beeped. Scowling down, he fished his tablet out of his collar, unrolled it, shook it stiff. Oh. Little countdown shown in rows of dots, going one by one from red to dark.

Five seconds to a dot, fifteen dots to a row, and how many rows... Hm. Ten minutes left before... John wasn't sure. They weren't going to be there yet in ten minutes.

"My mech. Gotta wake up, it's slow." Karkat waved a brisk hand, eyebrows furled in worry.

John closed his eyes. "Do you want to practice the mind-typing?"

"It's not want," Karkat grunted, slanting him a look. "... It's going to be bad."

"Mm."

"We need bigger time, not this," he added, tapping the tablet with the outside curve of a claw.

John tried out a dry shrug, and thought to himself that he really didn't enjoy it, that 'if you fuck this up you will have fucked everything up' feeling. Dread was for the battlefield, not for stupid interpersonal relationships. 

"Probably. We can keep working on it once we're in our mechs, too..."

Karkat snorted, replied something in alienese that had to be 'We had better.'

Yeah, okay. John just had to put his helmet back on.

"We don't have time for this crap!" he growled -- whined, if he wanted to be fair, something strangled and pleading, frustrated.

"Mnh."

John curled forward, hands cupping his temples, elbows on his knees. "Damn it. I don't -- I can't -- in ten minutes, that's too--"

There was no way he was going to be able to stop thinking about all the things he didn't want to think about, all the things -- the petty, selfish things -- he didn't want Karkat to know about.

Like the incontrovertible fact that no matter what John figured out he wanted, whatever compromises they found with each other, there was no magic button that would make Karkat stay.

He'd been in Karkat's head too much to imagine for one second he would weigh out John and the dubious safety Earth offered him against his people -- his people abused and thrown out like shark bait to be mowed down by enemies and superiors alike -- and choose John.

John was pretty sure Karkat wouldn't even choose Gamzee.

"Do you want sex." 

John flinched around and back so fast he hit his shoulder blade against one of the edges of the seat.

Karkat was looking back at him -- steady, John thought at first, but his lower eyelids were tight, his cheeks just a little dusky. The heat on John's face cooled down just barely at that.

"I ask so it's not more alien bullshit thing. It's what you want?"

"Oh my god," John protested, looking around wildly in case anyone had managed to open the sealing doors to the small room without the hiss of pneumatics warning them. "I don't know! I'm not -- I swear I'm not lying, I don't -- this is freaking me out."

"I see that, dumbass," Karkat said, but almost nicely. "You're so bad in your head, I don't know you can get that much a clusterfuck."

John groaned, slumped forward again.

"... Mouth thing, was good?"

"... Yeah."

"Touching?"

John gave a little grunt, eyes closed.

"Want where?"

"Why do you need to know?!"

There was a moment of silence like Karkat rolling his eyes, or maybe just watching him, waiting. John didn't check. 

"Zhann."

"... Horns? Maybe your hands. I kind of. Want to see your claws. We could sit close? We could--" He choked. His face prickled so hot it almost hurt. He wanted to touch Karkat's face, follow his nose with a fingertip -- he wanted Karkat to allow that, the trust and closeness it would mean.

"That's where?" Karkat grumbled, gave John a frustrated look. John tore his eyes away, ducked his head. Where had he -- when they had kissed (his mouth tingled like an echo) -- when Karkat was so close, almost on his lap, what had he --

"Your thighs," he whispered, dizzy with nerves and shame. "Inside." He clenched his knees together, hands knotted between them -- oh, Karkat's legs clamped down on his hand, all warm and snug. Muscles bunching, straining. So close to his -- his. Oh shit, John couldn't pop a boner inside his flight suit, not while Karkat was watching, while they were hashing out how much of a total clusterfuck this was going to be.

There was silence for too long -- three seconds, ten, every single one tightening his shoulders, knotting his guts worse, nausea and heat mingling dizzyingly.

"... Put your head thing on, Zhann."

John groaned out loud. "Are you kidding me, I will die. I don't want you to -- there's too much, it's. We can't!"

But when he glanced at the tablet still across Karkat's lap they were down to the last two rows of dots and it was now or never. More accurately, now or on the battlefield when they were supposed to coordinate two forces that had never fought together against ... however many of those aliens who wouldn't have followed some random high-ranked asshole from nowhere into open rebellion.

He shoved the helmet down before he could think about it twice. It felt too tight, like he was going to strangle, to be crushed.

Karkat felt too close; an empty seat between them and John still remembered him in Excalibur's cockpit, how easy it would have been to slip on his lap and kiss and--

(Yeah okay definitely sexual there) flitted through his mind from Karkat, alongside ... surprise, oh wow, so violent, stop feeling, not the end of the world --

John flashed back to his previous thought -- sitting next to each other and his hand trapped between strong thighs and oh shit he was getting hard, no, no --

(hand pushing higher) echoed back briefly, edged with curiosity, a spark of -- Karkat shook his head, slapped his own hands down onto his knees, hard enough to sting. John startled. "Okay!" Karkat said, staring straight ahead.

He was maybe smiling a little.

Okay yes we need to talk later I don't fuck and run (do you?)

John spluttered. "How would I know!" I've never/and run where anyway we're on an island!

Take your mech, zip off? (laughter) (mister space pilot, so locked in.) Wait, never? How old-- oh right no one around only older adults and your tangleclan/friends and you can't with half of them because blah blah mammals (and not boys? Why not boys. Aliens what the fuck.)

John groaned again, hands on his helmet since he couldn't get to his face. Could have Rose or Roxy! Roxy was my first kiss! (haha sloppy-alright-nice but I saw you fingers up your nose too much as a kid sorry John I like you tender-nice but it all fizzed out) and Rose kissed me on a dare and it was like kissing Jane it was horrible.

And that was the entire fucking extent of your romantic and sexual experience oh my dear little dark gods that's pitiful. (sharp/teal/lovely-blade moaning over me (tight-soft-deep) other hurried hands in dark corners--) shit sorry--

Oh. Of course Karkat had had sex before. Of course he would know more, of course John was hopelessly late and useless -- he couldn't even bring himself to think about, about kissing, never mind what happened later, he was a kid--

The tablet beeped.

"Shit," Karkat said in English, and another few words that echoed as bounce me around on a bladed dildo. Which, yeowch. He turned to stare at John, already half out of his seat and leaning forward, a claw-tipped hand clenched on the armrest. "(I gotta get going now. John, do you--)"

He was leaning forward like he was about to kiss John, if John hadn't been wearing a helmet, and John knew full well that wasn't at all what he'd been doing, knew because he was in Karkat's brain, and still couldn't help but fear-hope for it.

(I'll kiss you if we win) flashed between them, too fast to hold back. No wait sorry (god it'd feel nice) we have to talk first and -- not now, cannot be now.

John laughed, mostly from nerves. I'll come with you (sit in cockpit think tappy thoughts oh my god they'll love transcripts of your foul mouth be hilarious what if I accidentally transcribe the sex thoughts too oh no oh no--)

Karkat's hand caught his wrist.

"(Do you trust me,)" he said low and intense, in an alienese that John almost didn't notice as not English from how strong the mind-echo was.

The response came embarrassingly instantaneous. "Of course I --" He swallowed. What do you want me to do?

Okay. (You are ridiculous) (thank you.)

Karkat crinkled his golden-red eyes at John and for the first time John realized he doesn't mind how I feel.

Crushes happen, Karkat replied almost casually, with a little pleased-flattered-glad trill running underneath. Crushes happen to me in particular all the damn time so I have no stones to throw. (I know this one is worse, tangled-odd with headsets but it was kind of predictable too especially because of the headsets.)

A harsh beep.

No more time. Follow me?

Follow you where, John wondered, and then Karkat showed him.

His mind nudged closer. Body alive with battle arousal, heart thumping too fast, just barely shaky in his body and he need-wanted John's cheerful-calm interest, his certainty. They should absolutely not kiss before the battle because he would cling and waste time hoping for time to stop instead and also they really needed to hash that shit out but oh, so smug that he'd been right all along. His face winced briefly at whatever echo John sent back, and then he --

(Terrifying/not right/I will never manage alone.) 

John's gorge rose. (can't let that happen/you're not alone (I'm not alone either can't be please god--)

(Good,) rang like a bell between them, and then Karkat's direct, almost forceful Dive(/echo/merge) with me.

John's hands closed tight enough on the armrests that the hard plastic cracked under his fingertips at the thought, visualized like two discordant graphs slowly entering resonance, like rebounding, endless echoes -- the pattering, muted thunder of armies in lockstep. But -- but too close so many things I can't share, how?! Can't sync if we're like this I'm mortified (want to die/hide/wash it out of my brain) you're -- you're --

I want to fight. (Scared to fight.) I need to fight. Silly flurry of thoughts -- bothersome, I have them too (misjudged when to tell people about psychics, misjudged you, (this is not a romcom where you are the heroine what the fuck Vantas,) could have endangered/maybe did endanger the operation twice) we can sync on that! (would be bad). Or we can sync on --

Mechs. Piloting.

Winning the goddamn battle.

We had better not think of beds, John sent Karkat, smile shaking on his face. Karkat snorted back, crooking him a smile.

They bumped foreheads -- or forehead and helmet -- and straightened up, because it was time to go.

They stood (John stood) and walked to the door, one-two, one-two. (Easier if we walk in sync, they agreed, and wondered if it would also work mirrored. But they would experiment later, John, now where was the hangar?)

It was… odd, not quite seamless, little twitches of individual thoughts -- not like last time, at the conference.

It was easier when a Marine came across them -- Sergeant, look at the shoulder bars -- and said, "I was assigned to escort, uh, you, Corporal Vantas..."

"We're coming," they assured her with two mouths (unnecessary) (but which is it again.) "How long do we have left?"

"Four minutes," she said, carefully expressionless in her bulking power armor, the helmet politely open still as she placed herself opposite from the claws side. 

Can you blame her though? haha.

It's not like I didn't help patch those weaknesses.

How'd you even find -- oh, yeah.

Of course horn sense would perceive the electricity field where crucial wires ran, the way a solid plate trembled under a headbutt at the weaker places, of course Karkat's terror would crank his pitiful amount of sensitivity up higher and the luck of frenetic, half-blind panic do the rest.

The upgraded armor would be a little harder but they had the brute strength to punch through and the claws to tear wiring free. Should be easy -- but the Marines weren't the enemy. Strong-respectful-friendly-safe. Distant-confused too (we're too young for how much weight/responsibility we carry) but nice, mostly.

The bay where they were keeping (dad) the mech was empty, if well-guarded; the Marines had taken the warning that the biomechs sometimes ate people to heart, it seemed. Which was hilarious, because (dad) was way too tired to lunge and chomp, which... wasn't funny at all, actually. (When they won, the first thing they'd do would be to put him to a feeding/repairs station.)

They scaled the black-shelled side of the mech, pushing and pulling each body from handhold to foothold -- chinks in the shell, the edge of a plate. (They avoided the gaping cavity of its ripped-away manipulating-arm, no matter how convenient it would have been for a step-up.) The edge of the cockpit opening was cracked open like a wound, ready to be pushed through -- convenient but loose because dad was tired; worrying but nothing to be done for now -- thank god they'd gotten the flight suit back because those weird cotton clothes were a clinging, heavy pain when soaked through with neural gel...

Oh right. John's flight suit might not react quite well to the neural fluid now that dad-mech knew it. What if it dissolved? Haha, naked in the cockpit. Or more like half-naked with strategically placed, slowly widening holes, talk about a porn flick setting. Didn't help that the dissolving/digesting gels used to clean dirt and dead skin cells might also trigger if Dad felt contrary enough and also eat through yeah okay, that was an unsexy thought. John/Karkat crouched, one body on the solid edge, one across the cracked-open plates, and then sinking, eyes closed.

It was the perfect temperature inside, but that never made that first deep breath of gel any easier. He breathed air deeper with the body still outside, like the unencumbered-lungs feeling could help (it helped, even though oxygen wasn't going to come through telepathically. Bodies were stupidly easy to trick.) and settled inside within the nest of coils, seeking out the one that went -- ow, yeah, there, in the flight suit slot at the base of his neck, between the vertebrae.

Wake up, he thought at it, through the neural gel and through the spinal tap, letting it feel his nerve impulses so they could sync more thoroughly. Wake up, (flight systems, weapon arms, no more standby) there's a battle coming. 

Once the process was started it was a matter of waiting until it was sufficiently awake (and burning through the last of its energy.) The Karkat body wiggled into place, let the other tentacles slot into their ports to read his every muscle twitch, so the mech would be ready to move before he even thought it coherently enough to decide exactly what movement he wanted, and then settled down.

It was easier to keep in sync if they weren't both doing different things. The John body waited until the other one was at rest and then stood up, let himself slide along rib covers until gravity flung him off entirely, still pretty high over the ground; he landed in a perfectly timed crouch, laughing a little in admiration (Gods of the Devouring-dark but this body was convenient) and walked out of the hangar.

The Marines at the door didn't look at him like a stranger-threat or even a superior-officer-threat, more like a low-caste soldier might look at a beloved high-blue who cared-possessive for them (still dangerous in the abstract, never quite controllable, but theirs.) It was so strange, so normal.

"Is Corporal Vantas going to stay inside his mech?" the sergeant asked him, falling into step.

"Yes, Sergeant," he assured her soberly. "Until we go."

They weren't sure why that got them a weird look, but it was probably nothing to fret about. The metal mechs' bay door was just there -- similarly guarded but they let John/Karkat pass without a word; one of them nodded at him, fierce and grim-eyed. He nodded back the same way, and then -- oh -- worried that it might worry them, because John usually joked before a battle and soldiers didn't like things to be different. Bad luck. But by then they were at the lift and it was a bit too late to fret about the mental state of grunts.

They opened the cockpit and walked in, swung around to sit. The butt-hollow still felt wrong. 

So many buttons and toggles and it was a wonder John never got them wrong regarding which did what. (Heh.)

The arm-rest where Karkat had sat ... for a moment John-alone was sent reeling, buzzing, experiencing it from the other side -- the tingle of excitement-certainty, that wordless moment when you finally knew the other person was interested, had been flirting back, the pleasure-relief of feeling wanted and known. So touching-surprising-soft to find John so far from cocky carelessness, from being sure of Karkat.

It was sweet, Karkat felt. John stared at the screens he was bringing to life and read the words he knew by heart like they might have changed somehow, tried to think war thoughts.

Weapons check, Karkat thought, tinged with apology-for-the-distraction, tinged with fondness/you-are-sweet.

John went through a weapons check.

They'd left him Excalibur's usual monofilament swords, breakable as they were -- one-hit kills was more Dave's thing than John's -- but he had his hammer too, and the more usual set of bombs and missiles.

Also two EMP bombs. He thought back to Karkat shying away from the microwave and the difference in yield and --

Yeowch vicious yeah that'll work. Not through the home-ship hull (gotta shield from star radiations) but it'll work. How come no one generals-making-plans told me we had that -- wait fuck I'm stupid of course no one would tell me when they were still considering using it on me. It'll work on the biomechs and probably the troop transports but I don't know about the range.

Excal's got good radiation shields, so we can get pretty close and make sure of the kill, John reminded him, and then Karkat reminded him they weren't supposed to wade in, just watch-coordinate from the back.

Like that'll last, they both thought, so closely that maybe neither one had thought it first, that they'd just both had the exact same amused-despairing reaction.

They went through the flight check in comfortable, whispering quiet.

[gyusimp]

hiii,

first of all I LOVE your work and your writing, it’s incredible how you capture your writing and I find your gyutaro fics to be very spicy yet creative.

I would love if you could make a college fic (or a high school fic, which ever one your comfortable with) where the reader is a shy, nerdy girl who has volunteered to work at the library during summer break at night time. As they’re working they bend over to fix the printer and get stuck or they ask gyutaro to hold some cords so they can reach into the printer to fix something inside the cabinet.

anyways use your imagination I know you wont let me down <3

°•Library nights with Gyutaro•° (Nsfw)

Thank you so much sweet little anon! I'm glad you like my horny nonsense lol. You said you liked spicy so I took the liberty of making your request NSFW since you didn't specify, but if you had something fluff and SFW in mind please don't hesitate to tell me and I'll rewrite a version for everyone, ok? 🍬

⚠️WARNINGS: NSFW content | Smut content | Kimetsu Gakuen AU but both are adults for some reason | MINORS DNI!

Art credits: @ bluethebone on IG

Summer vacation was just around the corner at Kimetsu Gakuen. Some teachers would take turns to rest and to work on planning their classes and some projects for when the students had returned, some students would even take turns to support the teachers in their tasks. It was a task that no one wanted to do, besides you, the only ones who accepted were a red-haired boy with flashy earrings, another with long black hair with mint eyes and a little black-haired girl with blue eyes and a soft voice. It wasn't because your greatest desire in life was to help the teachers, you found out that extra points would be given in some subjects and that would help you maintain a good average in your classes as you did until now, besides, your mother was all day at work just like your dad so being at home all day would be quite boring.

That led you to volunteer as an assistant at the school. Principal Amane introduced you to your classmates and assigned each of them a time and place where they would be collaborating. Tanjiro would help with some repairs inside the cafeteria, Muichiro would be in the playground and gym, Makomo would be in Kimetsu Elementary, and you would be in the library. The others seemed to be very nice and they were, they all ate together with you at lunch time and as the days went by you became very close, Tanjiro even brought you all some cookies from his family's bakery. Today you would be on the afternoon shift, after another boy named Murata joined the volunteering later, you would take turns with him to help in the library. The afternoon shift was very quiet, generally you only had to organize books in their areas, clean and keep everything in its place, you even took the liberty of listening to some music on your airphones and reading a book that was of interest to you .

Today you would continue reading that romantic novel you found yesterday but when you arrived your plans changed. You entered the library with your things, it was always empty but today you found someone inside, a student. And not just any student, it was Gyutaro Shabana.

The guy was known as a delinquent within the school, he always spent time in detention or causing problems for students and teachers, especially the art teacher. Despite that, you embarrassingly had to admit that you found him quite attractive despite his reputation and everyone else thinking otherwise so your heart skipped a beat when you found him here and saw how he examined you from head to toe with one look

"H-hello," You barely said, entering and walking towards your spot at the library reception.

The boy didn't respond, he simply continued doing his thing next to a pile of books and sheets on the table, biting a pencil between his crooked teeth. You couldn't stand it, being so close to Shabana made you nervous. You tried to do anything to keep yourself busy but at the same time admire him from a distance. His hunched posture working in the chair, his blue eyes looking down and his thin fingers writing notes in hasty and poorly legible handwriting. The guy had something that made him uniquely attractive, interesting, sexy in your opinion. Doubt gnawed at you to know what he was doing here on vacation, but it wasn't until the next day that you dared to ask him.

"Summer school and shit" he replied.

Gyutaro was very intelligent but very lazy at times so that led him to get unsatisfactory grades and having to attend remedial classes during the vacations. He thought the same thing happened to you but he didn't hesitate to shamelessly mock you when you told him that you helped the school of your own free will. According to him it was the most pathetic decision he had ever seen someone make in their life. His comments were cruel like a joke but you didn't dislike it at all, you usually joke in a similar way with your closest friends so the time you started spending with Gyutaro wasn't anything new or offensive. You spent this entire week talking to him, he told you that he preferred to go to school in the afternoon since in the morning he was in charge of spending time with his sister and preparing lunch for both of them, then his mother would come home after work and she would take care of Ume while he studied here. Well, in theory, Gyutaro ended up procrastinating most of the time in the library after his math classes with Mr. Shinazugawa, on more than one occasion you found him asleep on the table, playing something on his cell phone or worse, watching videos too spicy even if you were around; you had to call his attention after a woman's moan broke out in the middle of the silence of the library when he thought his airphones were connected to his cell phone.

It was Monday again but this week you wouldn't be seeing Gyutaro because Murata would cover the morning shift, your shift was from 7:00 am - 2:00 Gyutaro's classes started at 3:00 pm then one more hour in the library until he got tired and went home so you could only talk to him via text. Yes, you gave him your contact and he gave you his, which is very unusual for him unless he really likes someone but either way neither of you ended up writing anything to the other. Embarrassment consumed you when you opened his chat so you preferred to talk to him until next week in person. Next monday arrived and you were eager to see him, your heart was beating a mile an hour and as soon as you entered you took care of greeting him and sitting next to him at the usual table, that was the same until Wednesday. On Thursday you were planning to do the same but your plans were affected. Mr. Rengoku needed some printed handouts with readings, exercises and questions for his students in the summer school History class, the man arrived with a smile before going home that day and handed you a USB with the document to to print 20 brochures for tomorrow. Each brochure had approximately 12 pages so your entire afternoon had been taken up next to the printer thanks to the young blond man with the loud voice, you got to work so you wouldn't have to stay late.

From time to time Gyutaro would get up from his chair to hover near you and ask you what the hell you were doing, why you were surrounded by sheets, a whole valley of paper around you. You explained as you organized everything on the computer and programmed the 20 copies on the printer. The device was not very recent and you had to monitor each of the sheets that came out so that it worked correctly until the most feared thing happened. The paper jammed. You tried with your life to move and fix it but the damn thing just didn't obey your orders so you swallowed your shame and went to find Gyutaro to give you a hand.  Both of you examined the machine, checking inputs, cables and so on until it made a very strange robotic noise. 

"Some printers open from the back, have you checked there?" Gyutaro asked while checking some cables.

"You're right, not yet." Gyutaro moved the device to give you access to the back, you leaned over the wooden furniture and began to look for a door or removable piece to unclog the paper.

Gyutaro was trying to help you by checking cables and other things until he finally got grumpy and gave up before smashing the printer against the wall. He took a couple steps back and crossed his arms as he watched you, cursing on the other side. His eyes were on the printer but then they went to your hair, to your arms moving repetitively, to your legs and the pressure that your white stockings caused on your thigh fat and then to your skirt, your butt peeking out shamelessly from under it and it seemed like you didn't know it. The movements you made made Gyutaro's mind fly much further, Shabana is an undoubtedly perverted guy and that was not a secret to anyone. A pressure began to build under his pants, colliding with the beige fabric of his uniform, making him walk towards you and was about to grab your waist with both hands, but he was interrupted by your voice.

"I got it!" You said excitedly, after hearing the printer return to work.

You sorted the paper and made sure to count the pages to resume printing, you were about to return to your chair but Gyutaro cornered you against the desk with both arms next to your hips, it made you very nervous seeing him so close.

"Wow, you have very skillful hands..." he said, smiling at you with many hints.

You didn't know what to do, were you imagining everything? Your cheeks burned in a second and something inside you made you play along.

"I know, I know how to do some things."

Gyutaro smiled mischievously at you, looked at you from head to toe and dared to caress your leg, bringing one hand to your butt under your uniform skirt.

"Really? Why don't you show me instead of bragging, huh?" He said, lifting you onto the desk with both hands, positioning himself between your legs.

Something warmed inside you, the speed in your chest made you smile back at him and grab him by the back of his neck to kiss him on the lips as he approached you. Gyutaro kissed you with desperation and inexperience but that didn't mean it didn't feel fucking good, the blue-eyed boy licked every part of your mouth, kissed your neck and left wet, hungry marks on your collarbones while making you choke on moans when he rubbed his member in the middle of your thighs.

"G-Gyutaro...someone could come." You said, trying to push him away and make him see reason.

"Do you think anyone is still here?" He scoffed. "Don't be stupid, that's why teachers offer high scores if you come to volunteer, everyone is at home while the stupid students do the work they should." He huffed between kisses on your neck.

"B-but, what if a student comes?" Your voice sounded worried despite the desire in it.

"Then they will learn not to mess with my woman."

Hearing him say that turned you on so much, you didn't know if it was because Gyutaro was also aroused that he said that but without a doubt that he claimed you as his without giving a damn about the others turned you to a pulp in his arms. 

Gyutaro's hands went to your shirt to get rid of your green tie and open each of your buttons to leave more desperate, wet kisses on your breasts, leaving red marks on your soft skin and shiny trails of his hot saliva, you grabbed his shoulders and you unbuttoned his shirt too to see his torso. He looked like a very thin boy, actually, his waist was quite small but his chest and arms were very strong. You brought both hands to his chest and caressed him sensually, lightly running your nails over him and playing with his nipples while he devoured you with kisses and nibbled you, with his hands never leaving your butt under your skirt for a second, playing with the lace of your panties. You leaned a little to kiss his neck and trapezius, Gyutaro's collarbones were very pronounced and while you licked his skin in the middle of kisses, you moved your hands towards his back to grab his butt and try to put your hands under his pants but he quickly stopped you. He grabbed both your hands tightly and didn't allow you to move forward.

"I thought you wanted me to show you my skills," you told him, mockingly.

"I changed my mind. I'll show you, okay?" He spoke firmly and authoritatively, making your panties wet.

Gyutaro brushed the hair from your neck and kissed your shoulders roughly until he slowly pushed you to lie down on the desk, leaving your legs dangling. Your hands tangled in his greenish curls, you couldn't help but moan at every touch of his long fingers, he lifted your skirt up to the top of your thighs and began to unbutton his belt and pants until he left his naked member exposed. Looking down and noticing how big he was, the blue eyed boy spit into his palm and began pumping his cock so it dripped more between his fingers, eager to fill you completely. Seeing the "V" shaped lines on Gyutaro's abdomen just above his member made you shiver with pleasure, just below his navel you could see a small trail of black hair. You desperately hoped that Gyutaro would take off your panties or you would do it yourself but when you saw his hand reach towards your core and feel his fingers sliding down your slit it was a much bigger relief. Gyutaro was aware of the risk that someone could get in, so he decided to leave your panties in place and just move them to the side with his index finger, watching with desire how wet you were and how you filled his fingers with small, slippery transparent threads.

"I bet you're really tight." He told you, licking his fingers and pulling your panties aside again.

Gyutaro stimulated your hole with his fingers with a couple of movements but when he felt your soft walls taking him warmly, his ambition made him take his cock and insert it directly into you, making you moan loudly, arching your back, instinctively opening your legs wider to receive him. You could feel Gyutaro stretching you, your moans accompanied his gasps and the sound of the printer doing its job, your uniform was a complete hindrance to both of you until you changed positions and Gyutaro put you face down on the desk. He entered you again and gave you a couple of spanks making you gasp his name.

"I love how you beg for me, you nerdy little bitch." He hissed, drunk with pleasure.

Gyutaro's moans were increasing, he took the audacity to lower his hands to your chest and put both hands inside your bra to massage your breasts while he fucked you. Your legs fought to keep you firm but each thrust weakened you more, you felt your clit throb and your hole get wetter and wetter until a lot of wet sounds filled the library, sweat ran under your knees and you felt drops running between your thighs without stopping, you didn't know if they were your juices. You clenched roughly making Gyutaro moan and curse, picking up speed as you were hit by your orgasm, an electrifying and abundant one that left you trembling beneath him, creating a slippery ring around Gyutaro's cock inside your swollen pussy. You were empty-minded, blinded by lust until you suddenly felt empty all of a sudden. You looked back and realized that Gyutaro had cum all over your thighs and part of the desk. So he pulled out of you before his orgasm.

Gyutaro was agitated just like you, his chest rising and falling and his bangs falling messily over his sweaty forehead, the perfect feeling of your tight pussy still had him seeing stars. You composed yourself and organized your panties and uniform, you noticed that even the 20 pamphlets had finished printing so you reluctantly organized them to finish stapling them tomorrow.

Your face began to burn, becoming aware of what had just happened, you didn't know if Gyutaro had done this because he was simply horny or because he actually liked you. It was something that you would analyze with your pillow tonight so you preferred to say goodbye to him briefly.

"See you tomorrow." You said, grabbing your things.

Gyutaro didn't say anything, he left his backpack where it was and began to walk towards you without taking his eyes off you, for a second you thought he was going to kill you until he took you by the waist and gave you a kiss on the lips, slowly and delicious making you melt again.

"We just fucked and that's all you're saying?" He scoffed, making you blush. "I love you as much as I love your pussy, stupid girl. At least say 'thank you' or some shit."

"I-I... me too- i mean...ok."

Gyutaro couldn't help but laugh at your inability to speak and the deep red painting your face, he finds you very adorable. "Next time we can do it completely naked, okay?" Gyutaro said, giving you a small spank.

That night he offered to take you home on his motorcycle.