#But please bear with me and picture this: prior to all this they just collectively went “yeah we could row a boat back if we tried”

[radjerda]

Sometimes you look at the Band on the Run album cover for a second too long and you get ideas... Ideas like continuing your drawings of Glorfindel being really bad at trying to sneak Ecthelion out of Valinor and back to Middle Earth with him.

In this attempt, we have Glorfindel and Ecthelion deciding that their inexperience with boats means nothing, they can totally row a boat* back to Middle Earth themselves. And then they promptly got caught.

*a boat that they bought.

And as a bonus for everyone, have the album cover version:

[fordohyon]

BEAR MASCOT...

PAIRING -

Kim Woonhak x GN! Reader

SUMMARY - (not really s summary but a preview(ish) thingy??)

You sigh as you remove the heavy mascots head, a cool breeze from a fan chilling your flushed cheeks. You notice one of the basketball players standing behind you. Number 23. "I never knew you were a girl," he comments. "Or pretty."

TAGS -

fluff, fluff, and…. fluff!!

WARNING(s) -

mistaking reader for a girl, calling reader pretty, Mutual pining? maybe being too short. English isn’t my first language so please expect grammatical & spelling errors 😭

lmk if i left out anything,, Not proofread!

WORD COUNT - 1.3k

A/N - should i make this into a series??? also plz tell me if there are any grammatical errors or what. I'd also really appreciate it if you give me feedback and reblog!!

It's been precisely two hours since you donned the bear mascot outfit representing your school. You only agreed to do it because no one else volunteered and thought it might be fun. However, the experience has been anything but fun. With only 30 to 40 minutes left in the costume, you are counting down the seconds until you can take it off.

The basketball jersey, hat, and shoes the bear is wearing are decorated with your school's logo, with the school's signature colors of yellow and green accenting the trim, number, and player names. You are thankful that nobody from other sections knows it's you inside the costume; otherwise, you would feel incredibly embarrassed.

You check the time and realize that 20 minutes have already passed. You hope the game will end in the next 10 minutes or so. A few students request a picture with you, and you oblige them. Five more minutes pass, and the game is nearly over. You can’t wait to get out of the mascot outfit and take a shower.

Sweat drips down to your ankles, causing you to shiver. This is the longest you have ever worn the mascot, 2 hours and 10 minutes.

After what had seemed about an eternity, the game finally finished. All of the players and spectators collected their belongings and fled. Except for a handful who freshened up or spent time with their friends prior to heading home, unfortunately for you, Kim Woonhak happened to be one of those individuals, for whom you were growing feelings.

Once everyone had left, you finally had the chance to rid of the ludicrous costume that had caused you to sweat profusely. Though you noticed a few lingering figures in the vicinity, you chose not to approach them, assuming they were likely teachers, janitors, or guards. As you removed the mascot's head, a cool breeze struck your face. you were taken aback to find Kim fucking Woonhak standing there, his jaw dropping and eyes bulging in what appeared to be an utter shock - as though he had just witnessed the most unbelievable thing in his life.  "I... I never knew you were a girl, or uhm.. uhh... pretty!" Holy shit. This is extremely mortifying. You can't even begin to express the depths of humiliation you're feeling. The fact that it involves Kim Woonhak, the person you've had the most obvious crush on since sixth grade, makes it incredibly, excruciatingly, so intensely humiliating. Is it just you or does it seem like the fan isn't working? 

"Thank... you?" The words slipped out of your mouth, your voice wavering with uncertainty. As you fidgeted with the bottom half of the mascot, your hands betrayed your nervousness. The expression on your face told the whole story - a mix of embarrassment, anxiety, and the discomfort of being caught off guard. Sweat trickled down your forehead, emphasizing the redness that flushed your face, a combination of the stifling heat and the overwhelming humiliation of the moment. Woonhak's unexpected presence only intensified your unease, leaving you at a loss for words. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to catch you off guard. I-I was just checking if anyone was here since I was uh, gonna lock up the.. uhm... gym!" Woonhak stammered, his apology filled with genuine concern. He tried his best to shed the awkward tension that enveloped the air but fell short in his attempt.

"It's alright. No need to apologize," you reassured him, your voice trembling slightly. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here either. I assumed it was just teachers and guardians. Guess we both got caught off guard." You utter as you took hold of the lower half of the costume, a sudden chill in the air sent a shiver down your spine. The contrast between the hot and humid gym and the cooler surroundings intensified the discomfort, further adding to the already awkward situation.   

Woonhak nodded in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you with an intensity that made you feel self-conscious. You tried to disregard it, but the emotion only grew stronger. You wished you could just evaporate- or at least get out of this sweaty, reeking costume.

As you struggled to remove the rest of the bear suit, Woonhak stepped forward to help. You were grateful for the gesture, but it only caused you to feel more exposed and vulnerable. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your hands were quivering so badly that you could barely get a hold of the zipper.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you were unburdened by the costume. You took a deep breath of fresh air and felt the calm draft wash over your sweaty skin. You turned to thank Woonhak, but he was already walking away, his head down and his hands playing with the fabric of his jersey.

You felt a pang of disappointment, but you couldn't blame him for wanting to get away from the awkward situation. You gathered your things and headed out of the gym, feeling fatigued and embarrassed. you couldn't help but replay the uncomfortable encounter in your head, wondering if things would ever be the same between you and Woonhak.

As you make your way out of the gym, you notice Woonhak and his group of friends looking at you. Just as you try to avoid their gaze, he rides up to you on his bike, beckoning you to join him. "It'll be faster if you ride with me. Don't forget to take a warm shower, wouldn't want you to catch a cold. I want to see you tomorrow!" His words catch you off guard, and you can't help but feel a mix of confusion and excitement.

Up close, Woonhak looks even better than you remembered. His endearing smile and delicate demeanor make him seem like a big teddy bear. You hesitate for a moment, recalling the events that happened earlier, but ultimately agree to ride with him. "Uh, okay," you reply, your voice tinged with nervousness. Despite your uneasiness, you're grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

As Woonhak makes his way down the road on his bike, he suddenly turns to you. "Hug me, so you don't fall." he says with a smile. You're surprised by his proposal, but you don't hesitate to envelop your arms around him. As you hold on to him tightly, you feel a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you. It's as if all of your nervousness vanished at that moment, and you can't help but feel grateful for his presence. Being in his arms feels like a dream come true, and you can't help but wonder if this is the start of something special.

As you ride on his bicycle, you can't help but feel a sense of security and contentment. The wind rushes through your hair, and the relaxed breeze washes over your skin. You feel alive and free, and for the first time in a long while, Woonhak's company is enough to make you feel safe.

As you reach your destination, you shift to thank Woonhak for the ride. But before you can say anything, he leans in and plants a soft kiss on your cheek. You feel your face flush with warmth, and your heart races with excitement. You can't believe that this is happening to you - it's like something out of romance fiction.

"Thanks for the ride," you murmur, your voice barely audible. Woonhak beams at you, and you feel a sense of belonging wash over you. Maybe this is the start of something special, something you've been yearning for all your life. As you make your way back home, you can't help but let out a squeal of excitement. You're grateful for the unexpected turn of events, and you can't wait to see what the future holds. But for now, you're content just being in the moment with the person who makes your heart skip a beat.

do not translate, repost on other websites, or take my work. posts on tumblr, stay on tumblr. I do not cross-post my work unless I say so!

[echodrops]

The Promises I’m Making (2024)

Sheesh, this year it was even harder than last year to make promises. In particular, I really wanted to focus on promises that wouldn't cost as much money as in prior years, so I tried to steer clear of too many promises that would cost above the basic spending amounts... But it turns out it is really hard to make resolutions if you're broke. 😂

So here's what I'm going with:

2024 Promises

1) Step down from my administrative position and return to being a full-time faculty member. I literally cannot take the clown show that is admin at my work anymore. It is actually killing me.

2) Related to this, redecorate my new office as soon as they decide where they are going to move me.

3) Apply for new jobs!! APPLY FOR NEW JOBS!!!

4) Train my replacement in the chair position well so they are super prepared to take over in fall.

5) Put a new sink/vanity in the downstairs bathroom of the Utah house.

6) Get both bedroom floors sanded in the Utah house upstairs.

7) Finally get rid of the dirt pile in front of the Utah house.

8) Take down the remains of the wooden fence posts at the Utah house.

9) Fully clean out and prepare the Utah house to be rented out to new renters. Hopefully the next people won’t sneak in a parrot that poops all over the floor… RIP…

10) Clean off my back patio/car port area so I can park my car there again.

11) Call the plumber and replace the faucets. Even if I end up having to do it myself.

12) Get the dead tree removed from the Texas house yard and call the internet company to see about the cable around the tree root.

13) Plant roses where the old ones died in front of the Texas house. 

14) Replace my CPU fan; the bearings are going out and it’s making an annoying noise.

15) Organize my documents (especially student papers)—my desktop and documents folders give me nightmares just looking at them. 

16) Related to that, lose at least 20 pounds. 2020-2023 was not kind to me and the stress eating was real.

17) Do at least one artwork to actually use that paint program I bought. 

18) Pay my credit debt down by at least $2000. I’m still paying off the hell year, but I hope I can make progress on this.

19) Buy all the Noragami volumes I am missing and do a complete re-read of Noragami now that the series is finishing up.

20) This is super nerdy, but my bro got me the FFXIV cookbook and made me promise to actually use it, so I guess I’d better at least try to make something from it.

21) Finish at least five books this year.

22) Update HaaH at least once. Please, Echo???

23) Reach the new level cap with all jobs in FFXIV!

24) Go to the graduation ceremony for my family friend.

25) Catch up with hanging up all the charms/pins I’ve gotten recently on my corkboards; these are just sitting in boxes/bags around the house. D;

26) Fully deep clean and vacuum/detail my own car at home. No more of the “It doesn’t make sense to clean it out now; the dog is just going to go back in it.” The dog is always going to go back in it. Clean it, Echo.

27) Help my parents tear out the carpet in my old childhood bedroom.

28) See at least three new species of birds. Doesn’t matter where, just three new ones!

29) Reach 3500 followers. Can I do it? You should follow me if you’re not already; I’m pretty cool. Just sayin’!

30) Cancel all the subscriptions I don’t need. There’s literally no reason to sit around letting companies passively profit off me when I don’t even really use the services/the services keep getting worse while the costs keep going up.

31) Go out on at least a day trip to take pictures with my friend. We haven’t done this in quite some time. I need to touch grass.

32) Repair the lovely one-of-kind ceramic plate that my dog broke with kintsugi. I want to try it at least once!

33) Really look hard for my passport in my house. It’s been missing for like a year and a half now, and I don’t want to have to pay for a new one.

34) Put all the small prints, postcards, and stickers I have collected in my new mini-print books. I can even use up washi tape to decorate too. (Finally, a purpose for the washi tape…)

35) Shred the million pieces of old mail I have lying around the house. I finally got the shredder so it just makes sense to use it.

36) Have more follow-through with chores. It’s not enough to wash the clothes or do the dishes if I then procrastinate on folding the clean laundry and putting the dried dishes back in the cabinets…

37) Put reminders for birthdays and major events in my phone as well as set a monthly reminder to check these promises. Maybe I’ll be able to keep more promises if I look at the list more often throughout the year!

38) Since I can’t afford to go to the salon, spa, etc. too much this year, I should at least do some self-care days at home. Will this be the year I finally manage to use all the fancy scrubs and face masks and bath salts I keep getting from people?

39) Use up one whole notebook. It doesn’t matter what goes in the notebook, but I gotta use the whole thing from cover to cover. I have so many pretty notebooks that never get used just because they’re pretty.

40) Change the burned-out lightbulbs in the recessed lighting in the Texas house ceiling. It’s like twelve feet high and the lightbulb charger stick I bought didn’t work, so I’m going to have to find someone with a ladder. Save me, handyman. Save me.

41) Build the pretty koi paper lantern my brother got me, or the Korean temple model my coworker gave me after his trip to Korea.

42) Actually use the yoga mat I bought forever ago. At least a few times, please???

43) Finish watching the Fruits Basket remake with Kacchan. I think we stopped in the second season, RIP.

44) Spend more time with coworkers—go out to lunch more often.

45) See about removing the PMI from at least one of my house loans to try to save money. I’ve been paying on these loans long enough I shouldn’t need PMI anymore.

46) Practice my German skills (or I guess other language skills?) by translating something at least once a month.

47) Get a new bookshelf. The current ones in both my office and foyer are already overflowing. @_@

48) Make more time to call people and talk on the phone. Texting is not the same. D;

49) Get the new COVID vaccine to stay healthy.

50) I will keep my promises! 

Good luck, 2024’s me!

[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[ficsnroses]

An Even Exchange II - John Wick x Reader

series summary (oneshots, can be read as stand alone) : you sell your virginity to john wick. part 1

summary : john calls you for the first time after you agree to become his to use, whenever he pleases. 6.1k words.

warnings : smut, consensual sex. rough oral sex [male receiving]. *the lightest* bondage. x f! reader.

notes : hope you enjoy this! rushed through this part a little bit because I’m really excited to write that thing i wanted to write for this in chapter 3...wink. I did edit this at 2:30am after finishing studying, please bear with me if there are mistakes! feedback so so welcome. ily xx 

“When I need you, you come. No questions,

no excuses.”  

.

In the late of the eve, John had called her.

His contract, she’d accepted.

Short, the conversation entailed none more than his quiet words, confident, assured. “I need you tonight.” He’d spoken, rich, beautifully rung off his deep tongue, the sound as smoky as ash in his throat.

Part of her wonders, ponders about this mysterious man. Handsome, built on perfect shape, he’d surely have no trouble finding someone to satisfy his every need. Perhaps, someone who could offer him more than she could.

He’d been the first man she’d slept with; he’d taken her virginity. Surely, he could find someone far more experienced to take care of him.

John’s home is large; extravagant. Crisp white beams and shining glass windows. A large yard, tall built trees generously speckled upon the estate. Surely, John Wick is a lavish man, equipped with more than enough financial security.

He did buy her.

Walking further, the night sky gleams, the moon glows in cold warmth.

Cold warmth.

Bittersweet.

After the night at the hotel, she hadn’t been summoned by John yet. A loch 4 days later, his call had beckoned her in the late hour of the night. The thought of what she was walking into right now bites in her head, gnaws, the ponderings growing with each heavy step.

She wasn’t scared of John; she knew he wouldn’t treat her awfully.

If the night at the Continental had proven anything at all, it was the assuring fact that John would respect her, her boundaries. He’d use her for his every need, yet never without consent.

Something special seems to grow inside John; she’d learned that in a mere three hours spent with his manhood curled between her legs.

John fucked her twice more that evening, only bid goodnight when he’d had to call it a night, sleep dense on his sex satisfied form. A taxi swept her home that evening, dropped her safely in her home, John’s proposition heavy on her mind,

Her answer yes, even heavier.

With each step, the thought of what would be to follow exhausts her, even before arrival. Beneth her feet, the path seems to crumble a little more; distracted, restless, she finds herself unsure of what to expect.

Reading into her own emotions, thoughts, feelings had been tough over the course of the prior four days. Between the sheets, John was a force to not be reckoned with. He’d shown her the fucking stars, left her yearning for more through the entire duration of the evening. Kind, respectful, reserved, his naturally dominant nature only intrigued.

She found herself marvelling more and more about the man with the bolded tattoos, the soft, mocha hair that curtains his dark eyes, the broad scars and firm mauve bruises that littered his skin. She wonders if somewhere under a hard exterior, was something softer.

Wonders, muses, guesses.

His cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands lengthy, messier than the night at the Continental. A candle burns in his long, lavish hallway; a flickering flame, steady, stirring. He’d greeted her, a nod of his head, reserved, his demeanour professional.

“Can I get you anything?” He’d asked, voice firm, yet held with that familiar comfort that had drawn her to him nights ago. He was assertive, reserved, yet still,

kind. Had she met him on the glittering streets of busy New York, perhaps ran into him at a heavy trafficked coffee shop, struck up a conversation of how she’d seen his familiar coffee hued hair and mahogany eyes seldom in the secluded walls of the Continental, she’d never assume.

She’d never guess,

that sex was all he wanted. Something physical, was all he’d engrossed.

She’d gotten comfortable in the silence he’d hold, his persona exclusive. Nonetheless, the most she’d heard out of his gravelly throat were the occasional grunt of pleasure, soft, muffled moans laced with a hoarse undertone emitting the air as he’d be thrusting selfishly on top of her. To his question, she returns. “I’m alright, thank you.”

He nods, as she follows him up the profligate wooden stairs. Something inside her builds, the striking view of his toned back and muscled features tensing when he leads the way. His home is quiet, and much to her surprise, it looks like a home. Flowers in vases, paintings of daisies and sunflower blooms wreathed to tall white walls, crisp and snowy.

Flowers bloom in his home, solace currents.

She’d never thought, that John Wick, lives among pretty flowers, that bloom.

 From behind as she follows up the stairs, he looks towering, strong, defined.  

She stares, and she stares, and she thinks. That the evening would end, with this nerve-wrackingly gorgeous man, nestled, buried between her legs.

        The top of the stairs arrive, and with them, a new found suffocation. 

Shackled with dread, a foreign feeling prevails to the sight, perhaps astonishment, bewilderment. And even through the ice of his reserved, quiet demeanour, she’d swore she’d seen a flicker in his compose. A halt of movement, as he’d glanced their way as well, despite best attempts to avoid.

Pictures scatter scarcely along the crisp white walls; John, and a woman. Photographs of a couple, happily in love, diffuse the walls, in the home of the man who taken her purity not long ago.

Proof of something bigger disperses the walls; stipples the walls where she’d soon offer her body,

to the same man who’d looked smitten in them.

The joints in her neck creak almost glancing their way, her veins course with a poison of something dreadful. Brittle fingers mould along her sides, taking place in frantic burden.

Intrusion; the feeling of being out of place.

This room is smaller, emptier, colder.

A single king bed presents against the wall, center of the room, silk sheets and monumental pillows. John’s back tenses as he paves the way, perhaps a drain of the way her eyes held thick with worry, seeing the sights of the previous hall. His hands fall rested to sturdy sides, breathe collected, expression grim.

She knew less things about John than the amount of hours they’d spent together.

She’d fucked him more times than things she’d known of his personal life.

And with the realization fading in; of John being a stranger, with his own life, his own battles, she wonders. Wonders if this was wrong. If she was breaking a house, fueling the destruction of a home. The thoughts race, the worries set in. Her bones carry a weight that hadn’t been present when she’d entered the lavish home; the grimmer lights of the dimly lit hallway matching those of her weary mind.

A sharp edge cuts. Something cuts, and cuts into her, twisting uneasiness.

“I’m not married.” John’s deep voice interjects her ponder, voice harder than before, and a shiver falls, cascades her spine; and it has nothing to do with the frigid air of bedroom. His attention turns to her, only brief, eyes only finding her face for a mere second or two, before finding more comfort diverted to the hardwood below. “I’m not in a relationship,” He exhales, and she’d swore the lines of his forehead tensed with each syllable. “This…isn’t wrong. Rest assured.” He adds, and the silence that follows her gentle nod of head was near deafening. She’d listened to the erratic, uneven beat of her own heart to his statement, a dense swallow in her throat when his figure advances toward the bed further.

John had probably only communicated a meagre 100 words to her, and she ached to hear more. His broad, tattooed back holds a story she knows not all ears can retain. The whispers are real; the stories had made their way around.

John Wick hadn’t become what he is over the sun bidding goodbye to a dark night.

A man of focus, as greatly as him, is conditioned. Taught, hardened, habituated to kill.

The questions, she knew would remain just those.

Questions,

that John would never entertain. This was a business deal; and to his personal details, she had no right.

For a moment, he stops. His head turns slow, his reserved features hold the weight of a million words, pent up frustrations pleading to be let out. Their eyes meet across the room. She doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. And out of all the things she’d sworn he’d wanted to say,

One stays imminent.

Need. He needs her.

He called her here today because he needs her. Needs a vessel, a gateway to relief.

Her job is to take care of him, sexually. To make him feel good. She stands, observing the way his tall, dark frame reminds her of what was to come. He’d mould their bodies together as one so expertly, so skilfully,

John was all she’d ever tasted; the first, and only man she’d ever let touch her.

And the worst part of it all, was that she was unsure, she could ever let another do the same again.

John’s thrusts would leave her weak, the sex was something holy in its own right, and she, was falling hopelessly addicted with each session. Hopelessly intoxicated by the way he’d make her feel so, so fucking good, when it was her job to satisfy him.

His low, rich voice breaks the secure silence.

“Come here.” John beckons, peeling back the silken sheets of the bed. The week at glance had offered him nothing but dire, bone chilling work. Missions complete, exhaustion prevailed. The usual amber tones held in a tall glass of Bourbon compared none to the waves of relaxation she could provide him.

He’d been craving more. Physical satiation. In dire need of long repose, John found himself unwilling to wind down with anything other than her.

Tonight, he’d find relief inside her. His nirvana would come buried inside her warm, heavenly haven reserved solely, for him.

her buyer.

A heavy inhale cascades his lungs as he watches her, drawing closer. He toys, caressing the light threads of her top between his fingers deliberately, and a pitch black smoke pools his eyes, the weight of his member between the seams of his pants falling heavier, and harder, and thicker by the growing second. “I want this off you.” His smoothly rich voice leaks, and his hand travels, trailing, smoothing over the fabric rested to her figure.

Her throat goes dry. Anticipation builds. He toys with the hem of her blouse as she stares into his eyes; his watching the way her hands peel the textile off her figure. She needs him. Perhaps, more than he needs her.

John sighs, breath heavy, perhaps flustered by the rush of blood to his manhood at the sight of her body; something about the way her curves and dips fall so effortlessly to her frame, the way her long sleeve bodycon dress moulds, seducing each inch of her femininity under the warm bedroom lights.

Captivatingly beautiful. Enough to make any man weak in his knees; an enchantress.

His newly purchased toy.

Watching intently, a captivated John barely bites his lip in amusement, watching the skimpy fabric peel off her frame, revealing delicate lace shielding devourable womanhood. “Mhmm…” John barely sighs, the ring of a rich hum brewing in his throat as his eyes gloss, drink in the supple skin of her hips, the tender swell of her breasts under the lace. His hand travels nonchalantly to his throbbing manhood, palming tenderly with chocolate eyes firm to her body, and she’d swore.

In his head, he’d already undressed her a thousand times. His hands had already roamed, delighted each inch of her skin.

Leisurely, a sturdy hand falls inside John’s pants, his palm wrapping around the weighty shaft of his cock, rising eagerly to the thought

       of what he’d do to her

       tonight.

Pulling out his cock to the sight of her, half bare, awaiting his instruction, he opts for a seat to the Californian king, wanting so desperately to see her in all her glory. “Take it all off.” John affirms, an order she was willing to oblige.

John was the first to see her body fully on display, the first to set gaze to what only she had seen formerly. His prying gaze sends a pool of warmth, shivering goosebumps on her silken skin. Something about the way his gaze alone makes her feel so desired.

He sits, a heavy hand rested to his thigh, the other wrapped loosely around his swollen shaft, stroking, and stroking as his eyes watch, lock to her heavenly frame as she strips for him. Bulging veins throb thick in his dick, sensitive to his fingers touch, delicate to the sight of her unravelling, a gift just for him. “Beautiful…” He whispers, merely under constrained breath to the striking view, gruff toned, yet velvety as he watches her fingers un-clasp dainty bra hooks, allowing the textile to fall off her smooth shoulders so seductively. Her skin shines under warm light, and his hand unknowingly tightens around his base, eyes taut to her skin.

Right now, in this moment, everything he saw in front of him belonged rightfully, only to him. She belongs to him. For him to touch, for him to use as pleased. “Fuck…” A burning John mutters under his breath; a fire rummages inside his belly, the pent up frustration of a load inside him pleading to be released. With a stocky hand still offering tender strokes to his member, his voice gruffs, a deep baritone searing through the silent atmosphere. “Come here,” He punctuates. “On your knees, in front of me.”

Shivers emit down her spine, and her eyes find the floor, unable to connect to his just yet.

John was moral, humane. Yet still, he was her buyer. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t please; as confusing as it may have been, she wasn’t uncomfortable around him.

But she was nervous. Nervous that she wouldn’t do good. Nervous that she’d fall short of what he’d wanted. A sum as great as what John was paying her would break most people.

She finds herself pondering, why he’d chosen her.

“Show me how deep you can go.”

Like a lightening bolt. His voices come in crashes, pounding like a lightening bolt. Something about the way he speaks to her.

The hardwood beneath her feet was cool, she’d known her knees would bruise for him soon. A warmth drills inside, anticipation of what was to come builds, and she thinks. She marvels,

She muses.

Of how her owner would use her tonight. Of what he’d want her to do.

Following suit, she collects herself, kneeling in front of John on the bedroom floor, his menacing cock sprung erect a mere few inches away from her face. John allows it to fall out his palm, opting to caress the ends of his muscle toned white shirt, drawing it over his head, revealing that familiar, beautifully toned torso. Bold tattoos, complimented by fresh, deep purple bruises;

They hadn’t been there the last time they’d fucked.

And she remembers, under the dimly lit lights, the ink that stands bold to his back is a story; that perhaps his lips could dare not hold. She still wonders. She still guesses. She guesses, she guesses.

Tension tightens in his muscles, darkness ripples in his eyes.

John needed her sex badly, direly. The lonely depths of his desolate palm hadn’t sufficed since he’d been reminded of what human connection could do; how holy finishing inside a woman felt, paralleled to grey tissues and empty walls.

“Put those lips on me, sweetheart.” John’s voice illuminates.

Heavy curtains hide what went on inside the dimly lit bedroom. Veiled the way they sin in secret; Hid the way he was slowly creating a realm; one she’d touched not long ago.

One where only her and him were real. Pleasure was all that triumphed, his body the religion, and the alter was her mouth.

With cold hardwood underneath, she sinks to her knees in front of him, studying the way his thick hand holds his member, urging towards her lips; within seconds, she obeys. Lingering his length, she encircles his tip, shallowly taking the thickness into her mouth. Within seconds, every throbbing vein on his cock glides easily through her lips, cascading over her tongue, held by hallow, tightened cheeks. Tightening on her shining tresses, John’s head falls back in pure, unaltered, pleasure. His eyes close, his body tingles, the feel of her wetness swirling, exploring his shaft take over.

And in her mouth, he melts. He melts, and tensions fade.

“Fuck…” John sighs, eyes fluttering shut with each tender bob. She goes slow at first, offering kind, nervous bobs. His teeth grit, the sounds of sloppy slickness current through his ears, building inclination. Slow, steady, his palm trails, encapsulating around her hand as she works his length, bringing it his thick base. “Remember how I showed you, use your hands on what won’t fit.” He instructs, gently encouraging her to jerk his remaining length. She obliges, watching the way his chestnut eyes hold a familierness within them; despite being his, John treats her kindly.

Treats her human.

“That’s it.” He manages, groaning quietly under his breath as he gazes her, on her knees with his cock sheathed in her throat. It had been a while since anyone had taken him this way;

since he’d allowed anyone to take him this way, after... her. 

Hel. 

“Tighter, darling.” He breathes, tightening his grip to her messy hair. “Look up, eyes on me.”

Slowly, steadily, she bobs further, taking more and more, pushing herself. John hired her for him to use, to please himself. Yet she finds herself, pushing her own limits to please him. To be good for him.

With his cock throbbing in her mouth, she wonders; what it was, about the man with the bolded ink, the broad back and toned muscles.

Flattening her tongue over his length, she feels his palm in her hair, guiding gently, up and down, up and down on his painfully erect member, low groans and throaty moans leaving his lips in a delightful hum. As she ventures further, gliding more and more and more of him through her wet haven, choked gasps begin to emit, John’s bulge throbbing relentlessly now, weightier on her tongue. Punctuated by praise, and nonchalant breaths, she feels his spare hand move, planting to her bare breast as she continues to move. Tenderly, softly, his thumb swirls her hardened nipples, massaging, fondling the soft swell of her supple chest in his palm.

No man had ever touched her where John does, with each intimate stroke, each lustful touch, he marks her. Marks her as his.

The sounds of her mouth, they kiss his ears; the sinful, sloppy, wet sounds, the slurps, the vibrations against his cock offer an unholy wish.

He wanted more. He needed more.

With the baritone of his voice searing her ears, his question comes as she continues to move, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat with slow, stable bobs. With a heavy hand travelling up, planting to the nape of her neck, John signals her, ceasing her devour of his erection. Muscles tensing, she gazes the way his biceps fall beautifully firm, his beard lays perfectly groomed, a darkness rippling in his chocolate orbs. Reaching forward, his warm thumb brushes over her ever so slightly buzzing bottom lip, voice deep, ringing with currents of dominance, assertion. “Do you trust me?”

As if habitually, she feels herself nodding slightly in return. Without thought, without said. She nods, and she stares, and she stares, and she stares, feeling his gaze sink into her. Without a moment to waste, she watches John raise off the mattress, opting for a stance towering over her, leaving her still on her knees, his cock dangerously close to her mouth still, glistening with her wet saliva falling in strings off his shaft. Gazing, she swallows a dense lump, watching the way he takes hold of an intimidatingly large erection, guiding it back to the security of her lips, swirling his head around the plump of her pink stained mouth. With a hand firm to the back of her head, he pushes a conserved amount of his length back into her mouth, his hand that had been holding his cock finding the back of her head, accompanying his other.

His voice flows through the room, heavy, shallow. “If it’s too much, squeeze. I’ll stop.”

And without warning, he sinks deeper, and deeper, and deeper into her throat. Only stopping when he knows she won’t be able to fit more. His hips rock, slow at first, his hands keeping her head situated still in place, slowly beginning to move faster, faster, harder, quicker. Incoherent gags fall her throat as the realization of what he’d begun overtakes her.

John, was fucking her mouth.

Exactly how he pleased,

however, he’d want.

Loosening her jaw, her hands plants firm to his callous, large thighs, feeling each vein, each curve of his dick plummeting across her wet, soaking tongue. Completely at his mercy, the sound of hallow gags and a mouth full of cock impend the room, gasps for breath muffled by his immense size sizzling in her throat as he thrust, and thrusts, channelling his needy pace into the vessel of her mouth. Hot tears char against warmth skin, his thick balls thudding against her chin as eager hips buck impatiently into her mouth, harsh praises and tender approval falling his deep baritone.

“You’re alright, darling.” He allows, warm thumb brushing, wiping away the sear of sweltering tears hot on her cheeks. “I won’t hurt you.” Unchecked tears and muffled moans follow suit, peppering the air as he thrusts, pulsating, throbbing, twitching in her mouth.

Bliss overtakes, John’s each nerve snapping, tingling with blissful warmth. She’s working wonders on his cock, louder, courser moans surface his throat, eyes fluttering in and out of light as his head falls back, diminishing into the feel of her. He shudders, shivering with each dip; the warmth, the tightness unlike anything he’s ever felt before. She, was quite literally, something else. He thinks to himself, he dreams to himself, of how he’d went so long, without someone like her. With each sink, his jaw tightens, goosebumps peppering his skin, chest heaving as she tries her best to hold in stifled gags; his hands eventually moving to cup her soft cheeks on either side as he drills into her mouth, chasing ecstasy,

-until with an abrupt pull, her head yankers back in his grip, silky strings of saliva connecting to his tender length; his cock falling out her mouth still hard. Still filled with need. Feeling a mess, her brows thread in confusion, eyes wet, lips seeping the wet pool of slick he’d created inside. Her skin singes, a char in her eyes from the burn he’d left.

“On the bed.” He eventually ordered, flustered from a rush of his own paradise. His cock aches, his body yearns for the walls that squeezed, nestled around his member nights ago. If there’s one thing John knew, it was exactly that.

His release, needed to come from being inside her. She was far too heavenly to finish elsewhere. She obeys, finding place on the silky bed, supple skin and exposed womanhood making her appear all the more appealing. John’s member twitches to the sight of her; tantalizing, a sex siren, and she didn’t even know. “I want to tie your hands.” John speaks, ravishingly rich. “Do you consent?”

She’d nodded. She wasn’t even aware, when the words swirled inside her head, and when her hazed conduct nodded diligently.

She’d nodded, to be truly, at his mercy. She’d watched him, collect rope from a wooden beside drawer, positioning himself behind her, gently pulling her wrists together. He restrains them, fastening an knot, leaving her brewing with anticipation of what he’d do next.

Excitement, eagerness to be fucked selfishly by him.

“Our contract will be regular.” John adds, towering tall beside the bed. Fishing a condom from the box, he slides it onto his thick manhood, his gaze turning locked to her body spread for his taking in the sea of sheets. “If you’re comfortable taking oral contraception, I’d encourage it.”

The pill. He wants her to get on the pill.

She nods. She nods to all the propositions that spill his lips. She nods, and she nods.

In his nude glory, she observes his body, once again. His, was a body she adored, awaited. Mammoth length, finished with that familiar rosy tip. The thick veins, the sturdy shaft, the dark bush that jungles around, protecting the treasure that was his beautiful cock. She swallows, she gulps in the glory, and her mound tingles when he climbs on the mattress, the weight of his body sinking into the foam. Carefully, feverishly, he peels her bottoms off, a pair of sexy lace underwear matching the bra she’d removed earlier. With thick fingers and a callous hand, he palms her pussy, spreading the nectar that seeped for his taking over needy folds. He spreads her legs open further, palms placed under her gorgeous thighs; opening her up just enough to see a sheen of slick arousal coating her cunt, paired with a salacious sight of her sensitive clit, too.

With his body hovering over her, John takes in the delicious sight of her body underneath him, bound, at his mercy, for his taking. Hard, deeply shaded nipples, satin skin, plump on her chest, her breasts swell so deliciously; he finds it impossible to resist. With his cock sheathed heavy in his hand, John offers himself slow, prepping tugs as his lips trail, sucking, leaving a lone, delicate mark painted into the sensitive skin. She gasps at the pressure, wincing almost, swallowing thickly when she glances between their bodies, gazing the sight of his thickness erect in his hand, preparing to take her.

With two sturdy fingers glossing over her, he gazes the slickness; the moisture gathered between her folds, all for him.

All for him, to sink into. With his hand palming her pussy delicately, his voice interrupts, deeply rich, reminding. “Tell me to stop if you need.” She nods, remembering, of the way he’d said the same the first time he’d used her. John Wick could ruin her, if he wanted.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. She wonders where this humility comes from, how it lives in him. Yet, she keeps mum. She wont ask, she won’t intrude. This contact signifies merely, an exchange.

An even exchange; for him to get what he craves, for her to get what she needs.

Without much warning, John’s weight sinks into her entrance, the throbbing veins brushing her sensitive walls, quelling an obscene desperately muffled moan from her mouth, eyes widening, arm coming in rescue to cage in yelps and whimpers that threatened to fall.

The burn. God. God. Why does it hurt so much, at first?

The electrifying sensation of John’s cock burying into her overtakes; the searing burn of the stretch he leaves behind unmatchable, soliciting sinful whines from her body below. With her eyes falling shut, and her walls clenching around him, the sounds of John’s haste picking up fills the room, his hips eagerly pounding her tight, delicate pussy seconds in. John’s lust filled, dilated eyes gaze down, his hands holding her hips secure in place as lewd moans caged by her arm over her face barely whimper; his cock pulsing inside her cushy walls, grinding against that oh so tender spot between her legs. With his fingers threatening to paint bruises into her skin from his delicate hold, she feels John’s grip on her waist tighten, rapt with desire. Sucking in a sharp breath, his hips pick up pace, groaning quietly to the feel of her pussy, and he thinks-

Her pussy was made just for him; perfectly mould for him, to indulge in.

Her breasts bounce beautifully, her body jerks with each volatile thrust, his need cultivates further. The sounds of his balls smacking against her womanhood send him further, the symphony of her stifling yelps and imprisoned whimpers begging to be heard by his ears as he works her. “You...” John breathes, hips snapping relentlessly, animalistic into her as he grips her tight. “You don’t have to stay quiet.” He clears, confirming. Although this was an exchange for him to receive mind blowing sex which he so desperately needed, he didn’t mind her enjoying herself. In fact, he preferred it. He wanted it. Her moans of pleasure would confirm; that she was alright.

That this was alright.

With a nod of her head, Y/N removes her arm from the cusp of her face, eyes fluttering shut, only opening scarcely when John’s pace never slows. Panting above her, John rolls his hips aggressively, biting his lip to the sight of her unravelling underneath him, and she trembles.

With her eyes closed, she finds herself lost. Lost in the feel of John fucking her so deliciously, so intoxicatingly, the perfect amount of pain and pleasure. The pleasure that pushes her over, the pain of his godly size that only intensifies it. Her back arches, legs practically falling limbless. Sweat trails down their backs, and they release shuddering breathes.

The sound of skin assaulting skin fills the room, and when her nimble fingers crave to sink into his skin, the pressure builds further, anticipation darkening within her. The pleasure is so intense, she practically screams, beautifully frustrated, begging, pleading for her tied up hands to be free only to clench onto John. She felt herself, craving to hold onto John. A mixture of their juices coat her thighs, John’s member glistening under the lights from the sheen of her arousal. The smell of sex floods around them, the heat shared between their bodies sending a turmoil erupt. Her toes curl, and each nerve inside John builds and builds, on the brink of release; he feels silky drops of pre cum spill inside the barrier of the condom between them, he only wished it could add to the heaven of wetness she’d made, just for him. Squirming underneath him, she practically whines from the force, yelps, moans, tightens her cunt around him tightly as he continues to rummage into her body, allowing those familiar, boiling hot tears to warm up her cheeks from the sheer heaven he’s channeling into her. “John…” She gasps, desperately attempting to gather her choked breaths. Her voice breaks, and she inhales a shuddering draw of air. “Oh…John!”

He feels himself slam into her harder, and harder, melting inside her. It had been far too long since a woman screamed his name. Far too long since he’d had the pleasure of sharing release with someone. He swallowed every noise to leave her lips greedily, and she shuddered against the burning feel of him drilling into her heat, over and over, and over, and over. Enticing whispers of praise for her body fall off his lips, as if flowers to her ears. 

She’d never had anyone before John; the whispers of him voicing his pleasure from her only sent her further into oblivion. She feels herself growing tender, more tender by the second, the pressure building inside her core preparing for a release she knew would show her the stars; John had done the same only nights ago when they’d first exchanged service. He shudders, shivers, groans in his deliciously deep, bass heavy voice; feeling her squeeze around him harder when she screams his name a final time, her orgasm washing over in waves of cloudy, beautiful bliss.

His chest heaves, rhythmically, lust drunk and buried deep inside her, he huffs, pants above her, chasing his release, when it builds just to the brim, finally, desperately pulling himself out of her soaking cunt, the dainty condom harshly peeled off his dangerously firm, mighty cock, discarded hastily to the bin below.

Bringing his hand to jerk, tugging his harshly erect, tender cock, he watches her, flustered, skin sticking with sweat, cheeks warmed with after sex bliss. A euphoria has washed over her form, a paradise they’d created together; and he warns. He warns quick, before chasing his own. “Open your mouth, sweetheart.” He breathes through shuddering inhales, still jerking his sensitive bulge, watching her oblige, understanding exactly what he wanted.

He’d ripped off his condom tonight, before cumming. And suddenly, she realizes why.

John Wick, wanted to finish on her face.

With her mouth open, she anticipates. Another first added to her list of firsts when it came to her sex life. Another first, that came with John. John Wick; the mysterious, reserved John, who she knew next to nothing about. John Wick, the man she knew she’d have many more sexual firsts with.

And with his cock spilling release, she feels him inch closer to her face, unloading milky ropes of slick, glossy hot cum over her features; a considerable amount layering the insides of her mouth.

His cum, all over her mouth. Her face, tainted with his seed. Her hands, tied by his desire. Her body aches fiercely, her pussy remembers the force he’d channeled into her, and pleads for more. With his cum painted to her face, she feels for the first time.

She is his. She is his.

With a final grunt, John falls beside her on the bed, catching his own breath, and she sighs briefly, still flustered, at the feeling of lightness in her chest; vision growing fuzzy. Her head turns to the gray ceiling above, panting blissfully, stuck in the euphoria he built around her.

This world John was creating, this realm they both would exchange, was becoming something beautifully intoxicating. Something she wanted more now than, before. Turning her head slight, she’d barely noticed the shift of weight off the bed to her side as he’d untied her, his sharp, regal profile distant now as he grabs spare towels from the bedside. Laboured breaths calm immediately, easily smoothing out into an even rhythm.

Even the sound of his breath, flowing,

Sends a shiver flutter inside her.

Slowly, gently, he hands one to her, his naked form still in full grandeur as his buttery voice speaks, snapping her out of oblivion. “You’re alright?”

She only nods, connecting her gaze to him as she sits up, elbows base on the bed as she holds her weight up. Nude, the familiar blush of being completely naked in front of him brings a warmth to her cheeks, and she shies, crossing her legs closed, wiping her face of what he’d left behind.

John watches. He watches, and drinks her in. He’d gone so long without sex, without real touch.

But now, he had her. He had her service. He watches the way she swallows a lump in her throat, vapour dotted across her skin from their exertion.

She was gorgeous; beautiful, not that he had any right to think that. He’d only had right to her service. Her amazing, mind blowing service. The same service, that had kept him up nights prior, lost in reveries of the way she’d made him feel.

Unlike anything that could be moulded into coherent words. A goddess in her own right.  

He finds himself, far more relaxed, relieved than he’d been before she’d accepted his request for her to come. In the moment, relieved, sex gratified, John thinks to himself. Thinks of how lucky he would be from now on, to have her

whenever

He craved. His proposition had been spontaneous; a mere proposal after their first meeting; his sex clouded and intensely satisfied mind propelling him to offer. Now, after hearing her approval, her willingness for their exchange being a regular occurrence bound by contract, John electrifies.

He thrills, he rouses. His cock pulses to the mere sight of her in his guest room bed, beautifully crafted. His pensive gaze soaks into her; nude, jaded, the beauty of her splendour.

The beauty of her body. The sinful sight of her holy, delectable body. His eyes move to her pussy, glistening with product of what he’d made gush from her; a symbol of what was his. Her pussy, belonged to him-

for the duration of the contract, for as long as he owned right to her service.

He glides a shirt over his torso, a pair of grey boxers to accompany. The thought of a crisp pour of amber bourbon kissing his tongue sounds divine; a post sex drink to level nerves. Calm, collected, he gazes intently the way her sex smitten body positions, the trance dying down, her haze still thick, her skin vulnerable to prying eyes.

“I want you in the shower.” John speaks, rhythm of his tone reverted back to the reserved, assertive tenor. “Have yourself ready, please. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

        He’d be back for more. He wanted her, more.

Brittle fingers.

Insignificant, little, brittle fingers.

They’d begged to reach for him, pleaded to touch him the entire time he fucked her mindlessly.

Something fitted across his expression when he’d turned to face her briefly, eyes flickering down, and up absently. Something wrote in his features; something she wanted more and more each time their bodies became one.

        He, was her first.

        And she, wanted him, to be her last.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[bts-hyperfixation]

Sweethearts

Your high school graduation was just like the ones you’d seen in the movies. After excepting your diplomas in front of your families, you and your friends headed of to a random field for a bonfire and camping. It was a night you never wanted to forget. It was filled with old stories and laughter, nostalgic memories and wishes for the future. Most importantly it was spent with the boy you thought would be your one and only. Jungkook was supposed to be your forever. That was the night you lost your virginity to him.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, both of you fumbling to figure things out through messy kisses and rough grasps, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. You spent that night wrapped in each-other’s arms, dreaming of what the future could hold. It had all seemed so perfect, everything set out in front of you. Attending the same university, finding jobs in the same city and eventually marriage. It was all mapped out waiting for you… until it wasn’t.

Like most high school romances, it all fell apart. Not immediately, and not all at once. It started with little things: your workload got too heavy, his friends teased him, you both lashed out in frustration. By the end of the first semester, it became too much and after a long tear-filled goodbye you let each other go.

That was almost a year ago now. You had managed to avoid seeing him for the most part and were moving on well. Obviously, some of the rumours made their way to you:

“Did you hear Jeon slept with almost all of the drama girls before they found out about each other?”

“I heard he was so good none of them cared.”

“I mean his numbers that high at this point it makes you wonder doesn’t it….”

“Yeah, he must be a GOD in bed.”

You usually just shook your head at the giggling girls and moved on. It still hurt to think about him sometimes, but you breathed through the pain and got on with life.

One afternoon you are studying in a coffee shop on campus, not long before winter break. The essay you were working on was kicking your ass and you had decided a change in scenery would do you some good. Just as you take a sip of your drink, you realise it was a fatal mistake. Your eyes find each other instantly when he walks through the door with his buddies. You gulp down your drink and rush to return his grin with a somewhat confident look of your own. His hair is longer now, pulled back into a bun at the back but his bangs hang loose around his face, perfectly framing his deep eyes. He is more heartbreakingly beautiful now than he has ever been, It isn’t long until the moment you share is broken by a blonde throwing herself into his arms. She giggles and slaps at his biceps, chastising him about something you can’t hear. It feels like someone’s punched you in the stomach. Everything is too warm as you watch the way he basks in her attention, friends hollering in support of whatever’s happening. You don’t bother looking back at him as you pack your things away. That’s how you miss the way his smile faulters as he watches you leave.

Once home you abandon all plans of finishing your essay, instead reaching under your bed to pull out a dusty shoebox you hadn’t thought about since you’d put it there. You empty it’s contents on to the sheets. You stare at the remnants of your relationship scattered around you. Movie stubs, polaroids, and old gifts. You don’t realise you are crying until a droplet hits an image in front of you, smearing the handwritten caption on the bottom. You lift the picture to study it. Your past-self stares back, sat in his lap and folded in his loving embrace. His nose is scrunched, it’s the part of his smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. The words at the bottom once read “Me and you forever baby” in his handwriting. Thanks to your tears, it now said “you forever baby.” In a sick way it made you laugh, now more accurate. You pick up the small pink bear he had once won for you out of habit, still finding comfort in its worn fur. Not pausing to tidy the items away again you curl into yourself and fall asleep.

It must be a few hours later when your awoken by someone banging at your door. You glance at the mess around you and try to make sense of what’s going on. Your alarm clock on the bedside table reads 00:00. That’s when you hear his voice through the wood.

“Y/N… let me in… please.” His words are a little slurred and he sounds upset, but there’s no mistaking the owner. You open the door and take in his puffy cheeks, evidence that he had been crying too. For a little while the two of you stare at each other, finally seeing the pain that had haunted you both for so long. It takes him shivering for you to realise you hadn’t let him in. you shuffle sideways, and he enters your apartment. You close the door and turn to face him, finding him leafing through the photos strewn across your bed he smiles fondly at the memories, lifting the same image you had been staring at a few hours prior.

“Do you remember this?” he questions, not wanting to get to the point of his surprise visit.

“Graduation.” You croak, voice still weak from crying. He collects the items and places them back into the box for you before sitting on the edge of your bed. You move to join him, careful to sit far away enough to enforce boundaries.

“Do you still love me?” the question catches you off guard, you’d spent months convincing yourself he had moved on. No one fucks half the campus without moving on from their past.

“What are you doing Kookie?” he cringes at the old nickname as you scold him. “Why are you doing this to me?” fresh tears form in your eye at this new form of torture. He reaches a hand to comfort you like he used to and then thinks better of it, dropping the limb back into his lap.

“I don’t know Y/N, all I do know is I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they are you.” His eyes search yours for a response, but you are too shell shocked to react. “It hurts too much still. Every time I try to fill the void you left, I fail and end up hurting more than ever.”

“I… It ...It doesn’t work Jungkook, we tried, it wasn’t meant to be, it was too hard.” You try to reason with him despite every bone in your body demanding you do the opposite.

“Screw that! We should’ve tried harder. I will do anything to prove to you that we can still work… please just let me try.” This time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. You melt into his embrace, seduced by his words. Desperately clinging to every part of him you could reach. Trying to reclaim what you had lost. He falls backwards onto the sheets and you follow, straddling him, trapping him underneath you as you re-discover one another. His hands travel lower playing with the hem of your shirt before tugging it upward. You toss the fabric away from you and return to his lips, craving his taste. He takes you by surprise when he flips you. He had never been weak, but clearly his time in the gym was not going to waist. He leaves hot open-mouthed kisses from you chin to your cleavage paying close attention to the parts he remembers as the most sensitive.

You shiver under his touch as he pulls the lace cup of your bralette out of his way, nipping at the skin around your nipple. He plays with the bud for a while his hand absentmindedly playing with your other breast. Satisfied with his teasing he forges on, tugging the waist band of your pants with him. You lift your hips to help him remove the unwanted fabric and he makes quick work of it, soon returning to your now exposed core. He drags a finger up your slit before taking the wet finger into his mouth. Watching him savour the taste drove you insane. He let out a moan at the familiar flavour making you whine in response.

“I’m going to make you feel so good baby girl. So good that everything’s okay again.” You nod feverishly, wanting nothing more than to believe his words. He licks along your entrance collecting your juices on his tongue before sucking your clit into his mouth. You tried not to think about how he had gotten so good at what he was doing and focused on the pleasure. Soon he added two fingers to your dripping vagina, finding your most sensitive areas with ease. Whimpers tumble freely from your lips as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to stretch. The final straw comes when he ads the third finger, the stretch proving too much for you as he scissors the digits inside of you. You cum harder than you think you’ve ever cum before. He resurfaces once you’ve ridden out your high; his chin dripping with you. You don’t think he has ever looked better.

You grab at the top knot at the back of his head pulling the band loose and using the new length of his hair to your advantage. His face his back against yours in seconds. You can taste yourself on his lips. You tug at his long locks as he grinds himself against your leg, reminding you he is fully clothed. Suddenly displeased with his state of attire, your hands moved to undo the fly on his jeans. You slide one hand into his boxers, grasping at his length and pumping a little, trailing your fingertips along the underside. The bunny smile you love so much appears on his face as he pulls away from you, shedding his own clothes. You can’t help but let your eyes wander down his newly chiselled physique. The v at the bottom of his torso now much more prominent, a clear arrow to where you wanted to be most right now.

You make a grabby motion, and he chuckles, lowering himself back onto you. You try to gain the upper hand, attempting to flip the two of you back over so you could ride him freely. Unfortunately, he is prepared and stays firm, keeping you trapped under his weight. You pout at the inability to play.

“I want to make you feel good too.” He kisses your nose; it’d come off as patronising if it had been anyone one else.

“You can do that another time, right now I need to make you feel the way you’ve always deserved.” He punctuates his words by thrusting into you. He leans on one arm, using the free hand to rub at your clit as he sets a leisurely pace between your hips. You arch your back from the oversensitivity of your nerves, still recovering from the last mind-blowing orgasm. This only allows him better access to the most sensitive parts inside of you. The steady rhythm and assault on your clit have your second high appearing quickly. Unable to contain yourself you grasp onto his back leaving small half-moon indentations where your nails dig into his skin. The moan you let out is unearthly, making him moan in response. His grunts and the hitting of skin echo through the room as he speeds up in search of his own end.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow you to orgasm. Halting deep inside you, he releases and collapses on top of you. You let out a loud grunt at the weight and he laughs before rolling to the side and pulling you into his chest.

Masterlist

More from these prompts - closed

Holiday prompts - open

[ketamineharry]

The Night We Met - Harry Lewis Requested: No Trigger Warnings: Knife crime, death

“When the night was full of terror and your eyes were filled with tears.”

You had met Harry on a drunken night out. He had ended up in a pub fight and he had bumped into you. He had tried his hardest to mask the tears that had threatened to spill, but you could see just how badly the fight had left him, so it wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“If that’s what you look like, I’d like to see the other guy.” You found yourself saying, trying to lift his spirits. He offered you a half-hearted laugh, before trying to make his way out of the pub. “I’m a registered nurse by the way, I can help you with the clean up.” He had taken you up on the offer, taking a hold of your hand as he led you out of the pub and into the Uber. As you both arrived at his flat, you were instantly taken aback. This was certainly different from the small one bedroom flat you were able to afford with your wage. 

“Where would I be able to find your medical supplies?” You asked, as he sits at a dining table. As he did, you were able to take in the extent of his injuries. A busted lip, a cut eyebrow and his nose was oozing blood. “In the bathroom cabinet.” He responds, wincing in pain. You had worked a fair few nights at your local accident and emergency, but for a pub fight, this was among the worst results you had seen. 

You collected the relevant medical supplies from the bathroom, which, in relation to your tiny abode, was the size of your bedroom. “This is going to sting a little, but please just bear with it. It’ll be better for you in the long run.” You say, as you dabbed a cotton bud into some antiseptic, brushing it over his cuts. He winced again, placing a hand over yours. 

“Thank you, but I think I can deal with the rest of this myself. You’re more than welcome to sleep on the couch though, because it is ridiculously late.” He mumbled, shooting you his best smile considering the circumstances. You huffed. You adored your job, looking after people gave you such a joy, and you hated not being able to do your job properly. “Fine. I have cleaned all of your cuts the best I can, but please take care of yourself next time.” You plead.

“I was wondering… if maybe I could have your number though?” He asked sheepishly, placing a hand behind his neck, rubbing the spot softly. “You know, just so that if I ever have another incident like this, I have a nurse on speed dial.” He adds, laughing awkwardly. 

“Of course.” You beamed, reaching out for his phone and popping your number in. “It’s just a phone number though, no promise of anything else.” You teased, as you handed him his phone back. 

You didn’t end up taking up Harry on his offer to stay on the couch that night, you had work in the morning and you really couldn’t afford the expense of an Uber from central London to East London, where you were based.

-

“When you had not touched me yet, take me back to the night we met.”

It didn’t take long for Harry to contact you again. In fact, it was the very next weekend. He had called you out of the blue, steaming drunk and he sounded distressed. He had begged you to come over and as you remembered the picture of what he had looked like the weekend prior, you wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you knew he was in a similar state and didn’t go to help. 

Harry did offer to pay for the Uber though, as a way to apologise for in his words, ruining your Saturday night. Although you insisted that he didn’t have to. You loved your job after all, and this blond boy had already secured a soft spot in your heart. 

As soon as you entered his apartment, you could see Harry sitting at the dining table. Medical supplies already aligned for you. “I’m starting to think this might be a regular occurrence.” You jest, as you rolled your sleeves up, noticing that the almost healed cuts from last week were replaced with new ones. Again, you cleaned up his wounds with the antiseptic and cotton pads. This time, Harry allowed you to allocate plasters and bandages. 

When you had finished tending to him, you sat and talked for a while. He was funny, he had a sense of wit about him that you hadn’t seen in many other people and it both charmed and enticed you at the same time. You hadn’t noticed that Harry had placed one of his large hands over one of your smaller ones. You were just so focussed on his face. He wasn’t your usual type, although you were unsure if you had a ‘usual type’, but he was beautiful. Breathtaking. 

All of a sudden, you had your hands in his hair, as his hands snaked around your waist hoisting you up onto his lap. Your lips interlocked, greedy for each other. Your inhale bleeding into his exhale. You craved him. You tugged on the hair by the nape of his neck, causing him to groan into your mouth. Increasing your desire for him, tenfold.

He walked you both back into his bedroom, throwing you onto his bed. He climbed on top of you, peppering kisses from your face, lowering himself down slowly until he reached your neck. He softly tugged at the skin there with his teeth, as he sucked it. His tongue soothed the pain. Once he had finished, he continued his quest downwards of covering every inch of your skin with kisses. When he reached a certain point of your neck, slightly lower down than he had left the love bite, you couldn't help but let out a slight moan. 

-

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you.” 

That night was just one of the many you had spent with Harry. The both of you decided that you did really like each other, and you wanted to explore how things would go if you were to start dating. The exploration, so far, was going impeccably well. Harry was one of the most thoughtful, kind people, when he wanted to be of course. 

You had learned though, that he was a violent drunk. He also didn’t like to back down from a drinking challenge when his friends were around, which caused you to worry immensely. You just had a niggling feeling that one of these days, Harry was going to get into a fight where you couldn’t easily tend to his wounds, where you couldn’t help him. The thought plagued you every single time he went out without you.

One night, Harry had left to go on a lads night out. Insisting for you not to worry as usual, because everything was going to be fine. If worse came to the worse, the most damage he would have would be a few cuts, a broken nose perhaps. Nothing he couldn’t handle. You were lounging at home, you had a few girlfriends around, deciding on a movie night. You were drinking prosecco, and were waiting on a pizza when your phone rang. 

Not recognising the number, you had assumed it was the pizza guy wondering how to get in the building.You placed the call on loudspeaker, absentmindedly. Instead, it was one of Harry’s friends, Josh.

“Y/N,” He said quietly, you could sense a tone of defeat in his voice. “Harry’s been taken to the hospital, he got into a fight again. But these lads… they had knives. He’s been stabbed.” You couldn’t quite believe what you had heard. There’s no way that Harry would’ve been stabbed. He had reassured you that the worst thing that could happen would be him having a broken nose. Not being critically injured. 

“What hospital is he at?” Jenna, one of your friends asked. Instantly breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Queens.” Josh responds, as he ends the call. Jenna, and the rest of your friends make sure that you are ready, as they strap you into Jenna’s car. You didn’t really know what was going on. It felt like an out of body experience. Working in a hospital yourself, you knew what the dangers of being stabbed were. You just couldn’t comprehend it happening to someone you loved so much. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion, so when you arrived at the hospital with Jenna helping you out of the car, it just seemed strange. 

Jenna walked with you into the building, holding your hand tightly, giving it a comforting squeeze as you approached the front desk. The conversation she had with the receptionist, passed you by. It’s like as soon as you stepped into the hospital, the speed changed from everything happening as slow as possible, to being unbearably fast. With Jenna’s guidance you ended up at Harry’s room. As you looked through the window, you were met with the most horrific scene you had ever seen. 

Harry was hooked up to life support, the slow beep indicating there was some life there. How much though, you weren’t quite sure yet. You entered the room, taking in the full horrors. His t-shirt drenched in blood, was in a ball on the chair next to his bed. At least someone had gotten him to stop the bleeding with his shirt. A gash going from his lower left side, all the way along to his abdomen was visible. It was huge. His chances of survival were at least halved by this.

You wiped away a tear, unsure of when they started, not like it mattered. They were not going to be useful in this situation. You moved the blood-stained t-shirt from the chair next to Harry’s bed, as you sat down. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” You sniffed. “But I love you and when we get out of here, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea and some cheese on toast. Your favourite hangover cure.” You took his hand in yours, placing a gentle kiss on his bloody knuckles. He had tried to fight back, that much was obvious but one man against a knife; that was never going to end well.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered before closing them again. Which was swiftly followed by the sound of a flat line. This had not happened. It couldn’t have. You reached for the big red button, and pounded it. The doctors and nurses could help. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to come back from the brink. 

As you expected, you were ushered out of the room by the professionals. His life was now in their hands. You just hoped that they kept trying, because you knew that you would not have given up. However, you had been in the place of those doctors and nurses with many patients. Sometimes, no matter how hard you wanted a different outcome it didn’t change the object of reality. You sat down in the waiting room, the hospital suddenly becoming too sterile and professional an environment for Harry to die. Harry was extraordinary, he lit up every room he was in. He was special. Someone so special, did not deserve to die in a place so ordinary, so mundane.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by a doctor tapping you on your shoulder. “Hi, Miss Y/L/N. I’m Doctor Singh. Unfortunately, there’s nothing more we can do…” He informed you, but you had to tune out. Perhaps you were a hypocrite, but you just couldn’t listen to the same drivel that you had told many families, especially when it concerned Harry.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” He asked. You look up at him, your eyes bloodshot and stinging. A blood curdling scream forced its way through your throat. 

“Just take me back to the night we met.” You screamed.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 4 - Interview

Title: Irreverent Pt. 4 - Roundtable Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: T (Teen) Words: 3772

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You got up in the morning with a pit of dread blooming in your stomach. The night before had been a lot of tossing and turning with minimal sleep. Today was it, make or break.

Getting ready and out the door was a breeze, as you'd planned this morning to the very last detail, leaving absolutely nothing to chance. As you exited the hotel and caught a cab to Quantico, you ran through the game plan over and over in your head. There was no longer any time to second guess the approach. You had done your research and you had thought this through. At the end of it, your goal was to make an impression. You quickly stifled the small voice in your head that warned you that it was a risky approach and could blow up in your face. It had to work. It just had to.

Entering the building and getting your visitors credential was easy - you were expected. As you walked towards the elevators, you saw the doors opening and your classmates Charlotte and Elliot walked out together. You were unsurprised to see Charlotte there - she was accomplished and well spoken with a good head on her shoulders. You were surprised to see Elliot who was known to be a bit of a showboat but you liked him just the same. You smiled at them both as you quickly grabbed the doors before they closed on you.

As you exited the elevator, you caught sight of Erin Strauss walking towards you. You had met Strauss before when she had come to speak to your class about her team and the BAU's success. After her speech, you'd gone up and introduced yourself and spoken with her briefly. Later that week, you'd gotten a call from her assistant, asking you to attend a Women in the FBI Mentorship event where she spoke at length of the value of female mentorship. You had since attended a couple of those events and she had made small talk with you at each one. You had your suspicions regarding her interest in you, but seeing as she was the Section Chief of the BAU, you made sure to always show her the utmost respect and admiration.

"Y/N! It's so good to see you" Strauss said as you approached one another. "I am so glad Aaron chose to interview you."

"Chief Strauss, thank you so much. I'm sure that you had at least something to do with that," you responded, knowing she'd react well to that kind of adulation.

"Oh please, I just nudged along the best of the best. But you should know, every single member of that team chose to interview you. And you're the only one who got every single vote."

Taken aback, you quickly smiled and thanked her once again as she pointed you in the direction of the conference room. They'd all chosen to interview you. That definitely shifted some of the power in your favor. You quickly suppressed a satisfied smile and knocked on the door where the entire team was waiting for the final candidate.

"Come in." You heard a deep voice from behind the door, prompting you to turn the knob and say a final prayer hoping you wouldn't stumble over your words.

Seven pairs of eyes looked at you as you entered, watching your every move.

"Good morning," you smiled and looked around, making eye contact with everyone there. "Thank you for inviting me to interview with your team. It is an honor."

"Please have a seat Ms. L/N," The dark haired man - whom you recognized as SSA Aaron Hotchner - pointed you to a chair at one end of the large table. "Before we begin, I am SSA Hotchner, these are SAs Morgan, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid," he pointed to each one, prompting you to recall their faces from the extensive research you had done on this team. You smiled at them each in turn, which they returned, Agent Morgan adding in a little wave to his greeting.

"To my right is SSA David Rossi," Agent Rossi looked just like the pictures on his book jacket covers. "And finally this is our media liaison, Agent Jennifer Jareau and Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia."

"It's lovely to meet all of you," you said as you settled in, trying to keep your heart from beating out of its chest. Agent Hotchner was more intimidating in person. His deep gravelly voice in the introductions matched what you had learned of him - he was astute, intelligent, and unlikely to tolerate any antics. His large frame filled the chair he was seated in, his legs crossed one over the other. You swallowed and tried to maintain your composure and stay the course.

Agent Hotchner continued, "As you might know, the BAU has not conducted panel interviews in the past. However, we are trying to grow and adapt ourselves to suit the needs of the team's best interests and so we want to ensure that anyone who is selected meets the entire team prior to a final decision." You nodded along. Panel interviews were becoming the norm a lot of places and while government is usually last to adapt, you were glad to see that the team culture seemed to be welcoming and open to flexibility. Agent Hotchner continued to explain the process, "So, due to that, the team has collectively come to the decision that the best way to assess a profiler is to have them actually do a profile. We profile UnSubs every day but doing it well is rooted in a base of self awareness." He paused and looked to see if you understood. You had an idea of where this was headed, but he confirmed it next, "So, Ms. L/N, profile yourself for us please."

You saw a smirk on Agent Prentiss's face that arguably had been there the second you entered the room. You looked around as they all waited for you to speak. You had to think fast.

"I ran into Chief Strauss on my way to the interview today," you began. It wasn't what they'd expected and you knew you immediately had everyone's attention. "She let slip that the team had voted on whom to interview. She also mentioned that I was the only person you'd all chosen."

You looked across the table and saw Dr. Reid staring at you with curiosity and ascertained that both of your predecessors had chosen the more straightforward manner of answering this question.

Both Agents Hotchner and Rossi looked at you with nothing betraying their thoughts, while the rest of the team either mirrored Dr. Reid's curiosity or looked just a little thrown off.

You recalled all of your research and meticulous notes on every single person in that room, and continued on. "Agent Garcia," you addressed the spunky looking Technical Analyst and smiled. "In my application and background check, you noted that growing up I moved every couple of years and I attended a new school each time. You saw someone who never had a home. For you this team is your family and your home. You all trust and respect one another and you felt like I'd most benefit from having this team - this family - in my life." you paused as Penelope gazed at you in some small amount of wonder. "You're probably right about that."

"H-How," she began, but stopped when Agent Rossi slightly lifted his hand, indicating you to continue.

You swallowed and took another deep breath, one down, six to go. "Dr. Reid," you turned and made eye contact with the youngest member of the team who was now studying you much more carefully, "My final year of college I worked under Professor Ludwig and published a paper in the Journal of Criminal Psychology. He forwarded my initial draft to you and asked your opinion on it and you responded with insight that helped shape the final experiment design greatly. Thank you." You saw a flicker of recognition on Dr. Reid's face as he realized that the anonymous paper he'd edited had been yours. "When you looked at my application, you saw my degrees, my certificates, and my Mensa membership and recognized a kindred spirit. You'd also like to no longer be the youngest on the team and it helps that I'm on the younger end of people who are usually considered to join the BAU. Actually, I'm pretty sure you also selected Elliot and Charlotte for the exact same reason." You allowed yourself to let out a small breath of a laugh, before bestowing your best smile on the Doctor. His slightly reddened cheeks bolstered you to continue on.

As you switched your gaze from Dr. Reid to focus on Agent Morgan, your eyes swept past Agent Rossi who seemed - if you weren't mistaken - amused. His poker face now had the hint of a smirk. You didn't dare look at Agent Hotchner for fear that one look at his stern face would cause you to stutter and lose steam.

"Agent Morgan, you could care less about academic accomplishments, despite being relatively accomplished yourself." The large man gave you a warm smile, telling you that you were right on the mark. "For you it is all about who has your back out in the field. I'm at the top in the academy for all field evaluations. You also stalked my online profiles with Agent Garcia - who is your best friend -  and saw that I'm a Bears fan. That's what sealed the deal for you." He let out a laugh at that - a real one - and exchanged a look with Agent Garcia that was loaded with we are going to talk about THIS later.

Halfway through. Almost there. You had to remind yourself to keep going down the path you'd chosen. There was no way Charlotte Richards had turned the tables on the BAU team. Maybe she's smarter than you though. Yeah - definitely smarter than you if the pindrop silence in the aftermath of Agent Morgan's laugh was anything to go off of.

"Agent Jareau, " you turned your attention to the pretty media liaison and smiled kindly, which she returned. You would feel bad about this one, unsure of how she saw her place in the team, but you were determined to see this through to the end now. " Forgive me, but, you hesitated in giving your opinion. It is clear that you read through every application at least twice, combing them for the details." You took a breath, and met Agent Jareau's startled gaze. "You tried to find the humanity behind everyone's carefully curated headshot. What caught your eye was that I was turned down by the CIA prior to applying to the FBI." You felt bad about the assessment you were delivering and the uncomfortably tense silence in the room did nothing to put you at ease. To soften the blow, you continued onwards.  "It didn't matter as much to everyone else but it mattered to you because you know how it feels to be made to feel as though you aren't good enough. You believe in second chances and you value fairness. You thought it was only fair to give me a shot."

You swallowed again and looked for a sign that Agent Jareau now hated your guts for exposing vulnerabilities in front of her coworkers. Sure she works with profilers, but who enjoys having their insecurities laid bare that way? Agent Jareau surprised you however. She smiled and her kind eyes told you that it was alright. You were doing what you had to. "Call me JJ" she told you, before gesturing at you to keep going.

As you turned to Agent Prentiss, you saw her smirk turn into what could only be categorized as a stare down. She was daring you to guess why she picked you. She was hoping you would be wrong. You knew Emily Prentiss by reputation, and so squaring your shoulders once more, you continued. "We've led similar lives, Agent Prentiss,  - moving around at the whims of our parents career. You take a great amount of pride in having accomplished all that you have without your mother's influence. You don't see us as being the same though." You paused and gauged her reaction, but she had schooled her face to betray nothing.  "You think I've leaned on my father's role and title. Ultimately, you're competitive. You want to feel like you're one of the few who made it out of the diplobrat lifestyle all on your own. You picked me not because you actually care to have me on the team but because you wanted to pick me apart in person and prove to yourself that you're still the only one who did it all by herself. " You had shot out the last bit, knowing it would hit the mark in knocking her down just a peg. You were about to make enemies before you were even hired - of that you were certain.

"Hotch, this is ridiculous," Agent Prentiss exclaimed. "She's not answering the question."

"Oh come on Prentiss," Agent Morgan piped in, before either Agents Rossi or Hotch could say something. "You're just pissed because she got you exactly." God, it was good to have him in your corner.

"Emily," Dr. Reid's soft voice was in stark contrast to Agent Morgan's boisterous one. His hand settled on her shoulder and she allowed him to calm her down.

Agent Hotchner was conspicuously silent. His right arm framed his face as he contemplated you. His face still betrayed nothing, but finally meeting his gaze made the pit of dread in your stomach loosen just a bit. Why - you couldn't possibly explain it.

After Agent Prentiss's interruption, you turned to look Agent Rossi dead in the eye. He would be perhaps the easiest. You had no qualms about him or his reaction. You smirked and said, "You thought I was attractive." He gave you a surprised look. Bet he didn't think you'd call him out on that. "You're not embarrassed that I called you out on that in front of the entire team. You value loyalty and you know my father. And you're about to prove Agent Prentiss's belief that I have things handed to me because of my father's influence. I hope you won't do me any more favors because of my last name." You'd known Rossi knew your father. They were acquaintances that ran in the same larger circles and there was some respect that is bought between old men in cigar cubs that you'd never be able to comprehend.

"You're right, you are attractive and I do feel an obligation to give an old friend's kid a leg up." He told you, fixing you with a look that put you slightly on edge in anticipation of what was to come. "But, I think after this performance so far, I don't exactly regret sticking to my loyalties." You didn't know how to react to that, but his encouragin smile at the end helped you in getting your wits about you for the grand finale.

You slowly turned to face Agent Hotchner who had shifted slightly and now was turned more closely towards you. There was something in his dark brown eyes that radiated understanding. Perhaps a callback to his prosecutor days where he recognized the technique of knowing more and talking more to throw your opponent off balance.

Your voice was clear going into the home stretch. "Chief Strauss gave you my resume herself and asked you to consider it. You don't like her interference in how you run your team." Agent Rossi smirked beside him as you said that, and yet Agent Hotchner's face didn't change at all. "While I've been explaining why everyone else chose me, you've been waiting till I got to you so you can prove me wrong. The problem is, you don't know yourself why you chose me."

"Are you sure?" It was the first words he'd spoken since he'd initially explained the process. He was checking to see if you were bluffing. You looked him right in the face, eyes blazing, "Yes."

But you weren't done. Not yet. "So,” you barreled onwards, “instead of speculating at what I think is your reason for choosing me, let me give you the best reason for why I should be the final pick." You paused for a beat. "I can do this job better than anyone else you've interviewed, and I can prove it. "

He finally uncrossed his legs and leaning in, asked painfully softly, "How?" His voice caused goosebumps to erupt down your arms. Thank goodness you wore long sleeves.

This was it. You were either getting this job or you were about to be arrested and you had no idea which outcome was more likely.

You fixed your gaze to Dr. Reid once again. "Dr. Reid, I've heard some impressive things about your memory. In the past three years the BAU either did a remote consult or went in person to solve three cases - Charles Abbott in Milwaukee, Gabriel Smith in Dallas, and Elliot Roberts in Portland. Would you mind sharing what those three cases have in common?"  Dr. Reid shifted in his seat his long arms in front of his body, his hands cradling his head as he thought through your query.

From the corner of your eye you could feel Agent Prentiss's disdain radiating but she was curious. You knew she was intrigued and wanted to know where this was going. After a silence that seemed to stretch hours but was in reality maybe only a minute at most, Dr. Reid spoke, "In terms of crime, victimology, and MO they're all entirely different. The only thing those three cases have in common is that they were solved ultimately due to anonymous tips. The anonymous tipster ended up alluding to or adding a piece to the profile distributed to the public - something that was missed in the initial release. "

At this, you felt the entire room go stiff. They're all profilers and at least some of them have an idea of where this is headed now. They worked those cases and consults.

You smiled and nodded, "Yes, exactly. Now, those cases were spread out and have nothing in common with one another. But Agent Garcia, if you were to pull up the exact phone number associated with the anonymous tip for each case, you'll find that they were all solved by the same tipster, who called from a burner phone associated with the phone number 565-905-9589. "

There was a brief pause where Agent Garcia looked around the room to gauge if that was what she should do before she pulled out her tablet.

Agent Rossi spoke again, asking "What does that prove exactly besides the fact that you tied the same number across three different cases. Anyone with access to the FBI database could have conceivably done that."

"While that is correct, sir" Agent Garcia started furiously typing away at her touchscreen keyboard, "trainees typically lack that kind of access."

"Well we all know it isn't that hard to get access to what you shouldn't." This came from Agent Prentiss whose earlier smirk had morphed into a scowl during your rundown of her selection process, but was now simply intrigued. That looked like progress in some capacity at least.

Here goes nothing. "You're right. That is true." you addressed Agent Rossi's statement, before leaning down to reach your bag that had been lying on the floor since you sat down. You felt around inside until you found what you were looking for. "Which is why I'm sure you'll want to run forensics on the tip recording as well as inspect the phone which all of the calls came from," you stated, deftly setting down a disposable cell phone in front of Agent Hotchner.

He looked at the phone and then looked at you. You'd finally drawn a real reaction from him. He looked stunned. He wasn't alone. On the projector, Agent Garcia had pulled up the phone number tied to all three cases and you could see Dr. Reid verifying that it was indeed the number you'd recited earlier. JJ looked - dare you say - impressed. While Agents Morgan and Prentiss exchanged looks that you couldn't quite decipher the nuance behind.

"I understand that might take some time." you continued, as you gathered your bag from the floor and moved to stand up. Every single person in the room stared at you as if you'd grown three heads. "Once you've verified everything that I've just said, Agent Hotchner, I will be expecting your call. Have a nice day and thank you all for your time. " And she stuck the landing. You quickly turned and opened the door and walked out, suppressing  your Cheshire cat grin all the way to the elevator. ___________________________

In your wake, the BAU team looked at one another unsure of how to proceed. Hotch recovered first, "Reid, what the tipster said, was it all publicly available information that we missed?"

"It was, which is why no one chose to investigate any of them more, I'd wager."  Reid explained, still slightly in shock at the turn of events. "We just assumed we'd missed something in the profile, but there was no indication that it was someone who knew the UnSub or had any insider knowledge."

"Alright," Hotch sighed. That had not at all gone the way he had expected. Who just walks out of an interview like that after dropping a bomb. None of them had even thought to ask you to wait. They'd simply allowed you your dramatic exit as they stared at the phone. This was going to be a nightmare to deal with if it turned out you were anything other than what you'd claimed to be.

"Garcia," he turned and looked at the Technical Analyst who was brandishing her tablet the same way he held a gun.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do we have audio stored of any of the tips?"

"Allow me to check, one moment. Yes, we do. The Dallas case recorded and uploaded everything afterwards. Gotta love a data obsessed police department."

"Can you please play the recording?"

"Of course"

They all waited as Penelope brought the audio to the forefront and as she hit play, the tension in the room was at capacity. A crackle later, the audio began, your voice came through clear as can be. Agent Hotchner had a phone call to make.

[annonmaly]

Ok, It's Not Red. So What? (continuation)

Noé and his left eye

At this point, I'm wondering why I decided to do this. At first, I just saw this official artwork collection, and I'm like: "These are cool, let me post something short about what I think (cos' I got a lot of time). Some of these ideas may already be out there. But still, I may drag someone else in this 'what if' hole I'm in". I meant this to be one post with 500 words only. But lo' and behold! I'm now on the fourth part of this thought dump. My lazy brain is so proud of me right now.

These posts could be read separately. But if you have some minutes to waste and have nothing better to do. Check out the previous parts here:

Part 1: Regarding some of VnC Artwork

Part 2: Oh, It's Not Red

Part 3: Ok, It's Not Red. So What?

No promises that it's worthwhile tho'.

Hopefully for the last time, a friendly reminder that best in writing is an award I never received. I'm not the person who could analyze, explain, or theorize things. Please bear that in mind while reading. Photos are not mine, of course. Also, spoiler alert to be safe.

Now that I said everything I want to say. Let's finish this thing. This would be the last absurd idea that I want to share.

I read this theory a while ago that Noé's left eye was partially blind. This was the result of his injury during his childhood. As proof, Noé always received an injury on the left side. I totally agree with this theory. There's something wrong in that left eye of his. What if Noé's left eye lost its original power? Or What if it's not his eye to begin with? Sounds farfetched? Yeah, it is, but give me a break here. This was on my head for a long time now, and this needs to be out of my system.

Ok, first, let me tell you why I think his left eye is suspicious.

1. Noé had an eye injury when he was a kid. But after a while, it healed as nothing happened. This could easily be explained. It was healed totally by his vampire's power.

2. How and when he received that injury is questionable. (Actually, that whole story is suspicious) Did he receive it before or after being kidnapped? I don't much about slave trade in VnC world. But, if you're going to sell something you don't want it to have visible damage, right? (Sorry if the comparison sounds offending)

3. This may be for artistic purposes. However, there are panels where Noé's left eye was hidden by his hair or something. Most of them are when he is emotional. Or, more precisely, when it's about Vanitas. This is not always the case, and maybe I'm just reading to it more than necessary. But let me give you some examples:

(I had a hard time in this cos' I'm confused about what is left and right)

Let me briefly explain the picture from left to right

Bal Masque Arc: (It is not noticeable in this arc, actually. But when Noé is scolding Ruthven, we can't see his left eye.) The image above is when human Vani told Noé to leave him alone Then the one beneath is the moment when Noé declared that he will stay with human Vani.

Catacombs Arc: This is the time when Noé forgot to cut his hair. His left eye is hidden at about 90 percent of this arc. I only saw it again when Noé got angry with the weird doctor because he keeps calling human Vani by number "69". Even after the conclusion of this arc, his left eye is hidden.

Pre-Gevaudan Arc: We all know what happened the night before this. In the panel above, his eye was hidden when he was expressing his guilt. Then when he's being honest, Mochijun-Sensei showed his left profile.

Misha Arc: I know it's still fresh in your memories. To make this short, they are fighting to the death. The above panel is when Noé's reevaluating the events that happened. Then below is when he realized that he did not look at human Vani properly.

I'm a VaNoé shipper so I could go on all day, but I think I already get my point across. There's a pattern here when human Vani and Noé are having an issue. Or when Noé can't understand the former, his left eye is hidden. After they kiss and makeup Mochijun-sensei shows Noé's left eye.

I think I already established that Noé's left eye is weird, so let's move on. If you encountered my prior post, I assumed that Luna and Noé are twins. Let's ignore that notion. For now, I will settle with the idea that the blue vampire and Noé are related. They could be siblings, parent-child, or kinsmen. I'll believe that Noé is related to the blue moon vampire until Mochijun-Sensei says otherwise.

So, I emphasized Noe's hidden eye a moment ago. Who else out there that we don't see her left eye? Yup, the vampire of the blue moon. (I already mentioned this on my previous post)

This is not related but look at these panels:

After hearing human Vani's childhood story, Noé and Luna both asked the question about hating the vampires. Take note that Luna is on the right, the eye that was she's not hiding. Noé on the left profile, the hidden eye at times. I don't know if there's a meaning in this or what, it's just interesting.

Going Back,

If Noé is related to the blue vampire and the cursed book. (I think Grandpa DeSade won't ask him to observe the book without reason, he possibly be the real owner). Maybe at some point, his eyes are blue. Or maybe one of his eyes is blue. The left eye, perhaps?

So far, we only saw Noé gazing at the blue moon in the first chapter.

Left profile, left eye, interesting. (I'll say this again and again, Sensei is shady. Even that smile)

Well, it's his right eye. However, it's his left that noticed the moon first.

Next...

The whole sentence is "and see for yourself with your own eyes..." Is it just a coincidence that the panel with the words "with your own eyes" was a close-up of Noé's left eye? (He's still looking up the blue moon here)

Now, assuming that his eyes are blue before. What happened? As I said earlier, maybe he lost the power of his left eye or just transferred it to someone. Is there someone heterochromatic that is always with Noé? Oh, yes, Murr.

So, in a nutshell: What if Noé has the power of a blue and red moon vampire before the series' timeline started? (He's kind of special since it would only show when he's using his vampiric powers) Then, something terrible happened that we don't yet. And they had no choice but to transfer that power to Murr?

At one point, I imagined that Noé and Murr exchanged eyes, but dismissed it since I thought that Murr's eyes are red. But now that I changed my mind about Murr's eye color, I think this could still be a possibility.

I'll leave it up to your imagination as to how everything happened. This is just a half-boiled theory I had that needs to get out of my mind. I'll try to expound it furthermore when I found out more (or maybe I would already change my mind)

This scene would negate my thousand words post entirely. Because the injury Noé had is shown when he met Sensei for the first time. This means he should still be heterochromatic here. The old man knows that he's a vampire. So, it's either, Noé told them, or the couple saw his vampiric characteristics. They would tell Noé that his eyes was strange, right? But it looks like had no idea at all.

(I'll just copy and paste from my previous post)

I believe that Mochijun-sensei is keeping the timeline vague since it would reveal too much information. I mean, we don't know how long time passed from the day Noé was found by the old couple to the day Sensei brought him to the castle in the forest. Keep in mind that the vampire's growth differs for each person, as well. Also, is the story the Noé and Sensei told trustworthy? As far as I could tell, Sensei is shady, like really. Besides, Noé's memory is also not reliable. After all, someone out there may have the ability to manipulate memories. What if Noé was was born ages ago and was induced to sleep for a long time for whatever reasons?

(Copy Paste ends here)

I really love Noé and Murr. You see, the title of the series is The Case Study of Vanitas, but I'm more curious about Noé. My guts tell me that he would unexpectedly surprise us in the future chapters. Do you have any ideas or thoughts you want to share about VnC? tell me, I'm so bad at digging gold here.

That's the end folks, I warned you this might not make any sense. I'm just a person who has a lot of time on hand got bored waiting for the next chapter. Still, I had fun writing this. It's entertaining to crack our heads with the possibilities of what would happen in the story. But remember to always respect the authors. It's their work and art.

Note: I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

[layton-fanfic-library]

how much do i have to pay you to rec some feel good PLATONIC luke and hershel friendship fics to erase my mind of what ive seen in the tag recently

This list only contains fics from FFnet. I decided to start there as FFnet seems to contain a lot of older fics. I’ll get to AO3 and other platforms soon! Please bear in mind that some of these fics were written prior to the later games’ releases, so they may contain fan theories. Also, while all of these fics come under the friendship/family genre, I haven’t marked them with warnings. Unlike AO3, FFnet doesn’t really offer much in the way of tags. Please tread carefully, and be kind to the fanfic authors if you leave reviews. 

I’m only including fics that are “complete”, though I’m sure there are plenty of other great Luke & Layton fics that are sadly incomplete. 

Please feel free to add to this list or send fanfic recs! 

List of Layton & Luke Friendship Fics

How to Become a Gentleman in Just 100 Days – A chapter every day, join Professor Layton and Luke as they go about living their ever-curious London life in a series of quaint yet topical conundrums, and maybe even pick up a tip or two about proper etiquette while you're at it. Tip NO. 101 - Art: Déjà vu. (I didn’t have to look far for this one. It’s the most reviewed fic on the PL FFnet.)

Luke Triton and the Illusionary Misgivings - When Luke wakes alone in a strange village with no memory of how he got there, he must uncover the truth behind the village of Validilene. Every aspect of his relationship with Professor Layton will be tested, and Luke must find the truth behind the lies in his faltering memory. But how can he uncover the truth without the professor's guiding hand? [COMPLETE] (This multi-chaptered fic is on the TV Tropes Fanfic Rec page for a reason!)

It's No Good - The Professor has a bad habit of neglecting sleep in favor of research. Rosa the cleaning lady has noticed this on too many occasions, and wishes there was something that could be done. Luckily for her, children can be quite influential. (A cute one shot. Also strongly recommend What He Has for baby Luke and Layton.)

Good Impression - 'The windows almost glowed and there was a hint of lemon hanging in the air' Luke wanted to make the best impression he could on his new mentor and guardian, but the Professor knew that Luke would always be welcome to stay with him. Now he just has to reassure Luke of that fact. Set just after Spectre's Call, friendship fluff. (Another adorable one shot!)

His Birthday - The Professor's birthday brings sad memories and surprises. One-shot. 

The Reunion - After not seeing Luke for over five years, Professor Layton has an unexpected reunion with a former apprentice. No romance. (Oneshot)

Sliding Across - Have you ever tried your hand at a sliding puzzle? Sliding left, right, top, bottom, repeat. Those nerve-wracking things, they're, they're.. easy enough for a 5-year-old to solve? Well, Luke Triton isn't just your everyday 5-year-old after all. (Oneshot)

In Memory - After many years, the professor realizes it's best to move on and love the people that are still with him. (Oneshot - Layton GIVES LUKE HIS TOP HAT. THIS MADE ME SO EMOTIONAL)

Platonic - Luke and Layton are platonic soulmates, that across the worlds, universes, and time, always manage to find each other in the end. Sometimes human, sometimes magical- one can never tell in this ever weaving world of mystery. (Oneshot)

Dreamcatcher - Following the terrible events of Unwound Future, Luke has only one question: How do you forgive someone who's done something unforgivable? Spoilers for games 1 and 3. No pairings. Post Unwound Future. (Oneshot)

One Last Question - Let's be honest here-the professor's life hasn't exactly been a basket of roses. Luke decides to seize upon this chance to ask Professor Layton one last question about the person he's become...in spite of the tragedies he's faced. No pairings. Spoilers for games 3, 4, and 5. (Oneshot)

The Ametur Violinist - Luke decides to pull his violin out, but his music is heard but more than one pair of ears... [Not my picture, credit to artist.] (Short oneshot)

No less of a man - Luke awakens to a familiar problem that leaves him feeling less confident about himself. Maybe a heart to heart with those he loves can help him back on track. Rated T. Involves a transgender character. (Oneshot)

The perfect cake - The professor invites Luke to buy cake, but finding the right one is difficult. (Oneshot - This fic was written in 2012 but it reminds me so much of little Kat and Layton visiting the bakery during the anime...)

Scenes From A Hat - Professor of archaeology, puzzle hobbyist, proper gentleman, surrogate father, close friend, and more: a collection of the many roles improvised by the man known as Hershel Layton. /Drabble collection. No (overt) pairings. Beware spoilers if reviewing; I have not yet played Miracle Mask. (Collection of one shots.)

Luke Triton and the Terrible Night - Luke faces his first night sleeping alone in the professor's house. (Oneshot)

A rainy day - It's a cloudy day in London, but a glum day can't stop the dynamic duo from their investigation... or can it? (Drabble Luke/Layton father son relationship) (Cover art by GraniteFire on deviantart) (Oneshot - father-son relationship)

One Shelf Does Plenty - The Professor tries DIY. Suffice to say...it does not go well.Purple thumbs and a confused apprentice ensue. Don't forget to R&R! (A oneshot with an extra chapter)

[myfriendsarerealidiots]

Comparing Adaptations

‘Kay so I went on one of my whims again and did something stupid. Couple weeks or so ago, I wasn’t really in the mood to watch anime so I opened up Netflix and watched a Cdrama that I wanted to watch for a while now.

That Cdrama was ‘The Untamed’ which, prior to me watching it and doing said whim, I thought was just your typical historic Cdrama. Oh boy I was wrong. As I was watching it, I was thinking to myself, “This show’s really selling itself off as BL.” Which, I found out after finishing it was because it is BL. Hah...and that was just the start of it.

As I was doing my ‘Post-show research,’ I found out that it was based of a novel, called ‘Mo Dao Zu Shi’or as translated by the people on the internet as ‘Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation.’ Said novel had 2 more adaptations along with ‘The Untamed’ which were a manhua and a donghua. So me being me, I decided to watch the donghua adaptation and read both the og novel and manhua.

So how I went through this was...

The Untamed (2019)

The Donghua aka Anime I guess

The Manhua which I read while having class (such a responsible student aren’t I)

The original novel

All hail this person who has too much free time on her hands.

Anyways, as it says on the tin, I’ll be comparing the 4 adaptations/versions of the story and see what changes between them as well as the pros and cons. (Wow I sound so professional)

Some background of myself just to avoid confusion

I am not a mega hardcore Fujoshi. I don’t really enjoy reading smut, nor am I old enough to do so bear that in mind

I have 7 years worth of Chinese lessons under my belt which means I barely understand a thing and that I can get some of the jokes like how Wei Ying’s sword is called ‘Sui Bien’ and it’s funnier to hear in Chinese. In other words, compared to like actual Chinese people who live in China, I pretty much have the knowledge of a 10 year old.

The versions of the Manhua and Novel that I read were translated in English so somethings might have been lost in translation.

I have a bit of a goldfish brain so forgive me if I wrote something wrong or forgot the name of a certain character, most likely I will look it up to correct it but if I don’t...well sorry.

I am writing my opinions on each version as I finish them, so if they don’t link up to the original that’s the reasoning behind it.

All of these are my opinions and thoughts on the story. You are not entitled to follow them if you disagree. I personally believe that everyone has a voice of their own and they should use it. (Even though I don’t half of the time.)

Slight Spoiler Warning

I will be breaking down some of the scenes and characters for my comparisons so please keep that in mind.

The Untamed (2019)

As this was my first exposure to the story, I didn’t know what to expect. I loved everything about it except for the fact that literally half of the show was spent in the past, building context for what was happening in the present.

The characters were lovable and all had distict personalities, especially Wei Ying and Lan Zhan which I guess makes sense since they’re the main characters (their actors are also cute and have good chemistry.) Speaking of characters, Yanli has a more forward role in the story here compared to the other versions. The way certain characters were introduced was different too. Since it’s live action, it’s also harder to show things like extreme blushing and such so it makes Lan Zhan look very stoic and way more unexpressive here than in the other versions.

The soundtrack is nice to listen to, especially with the 2 mains singing the theme song together it’s so cute and gives it another meaning in itself. Although, I do wonder how that poor bamboo flute Wei Ying made in like 2 mins plays decent sounding music. Chen Qing(is this the name of it?), the flute he uses after his trip to the Burial Grounds has the same sound quality as that bamboo flute which is just, “how???”

They took out most of the extreme BL!!! I feel like that is the biggest difference between this version and all the rest. I know they did that to appeal to more people but it does remove some of the context to things. That doesn’t mean the moments that were kept in weren’t cute though. It did make the pair look more plantonic than romantic.

As for the story itself, as a story on its own, it’s nice, as an adaptation that’s where the line gets blurry but it leans more towards the good side. They did indeed change some things, made them work better with the medium than if they didn’t.

An example I can place is the mask. Where the other versions used white make up with oddly placed red circles around the eyes, this one used a mask instead. I agree with the choice they made, seeing as they removed the fact that Mo Xuanyu was homosexual and so the make up wouldn’t make sense. It also looks nicer than what I imagined what could’ve happened with they kept with the make up. They do make a reference to this in the show when Jin Ling and Wei Ying have a conversation in Carp Tower. “You’ve seen my face right?” “How do I know? Your face is always caked in make up or covered by that mask.”

Another issue I had which I’ll touch on later was the first episode—I had no idea what was going on for those 40 minutes of screentime.

Donghua

As of writing this post, season 3 of this has yet to come out.

My first reaction to this was “Man, the animation’s pretty, and they made Wei Ying look scarier.” Watching stuff at 12 in the morning isn’t the best thing but that’s what I do.

Anywho, this version made Wei Ying really attracted to going down the path of ‘evil’ compared to the other versions. I don’t really understand why they made this change...but they did so we have to deal with that. And his eyes glow red!! It makes him look scary and cool at the same time. I love it!!

The transitions between certain events were a bit weird to say the least. For example, at the end of episode 2/3 Wei Ying gets forcibly dragged into the Cloud Recesses and the episode ends there. By the next episode, we’re 16/23/13 however many years in the past. This makes it really confusing for someone who hasn’t watched or read any other version of the story. It definitely made me confused and I already finished one.

While ‘The Untamed’ told us everything in one long flashback, the donghua broke it up into small chunks placed whenever information was needed. I don’t think that was a good idea, but then I also think it was a better decision than what they did for the Cdrama. As I watched this adaptation, I found myself confused from time to time because what happened in the prior episode didn’t always match what happened in the current episode like I mentioned earlier.

As for the artstyle, personally, I think some of the characters look similar minus the hair. However, I do like the little ways they made Lan Zhan express his feelings towards Wei Ying.

Speaking of which, when I first saw them together in this version in the forest near the Goddess Temple, I had to do a bit of a double take because of the height difference which wasn’t so evident in ‘The Untamed’. I soon found out that Lan Zhan was taller than Wei Ying before and after he gets reincarnated(?) Prior, it was just a small gap of 2cm which later turned to 6cm after possessing Mo Xuanyu.

I didn’t notice their height gaps while watching ‘The Untamed’ because Wei Ying’s actor, Xiao Zhan, is taller than Lan Zhan’s actor, Wang Yi Bo by about 2 inches which is like 5 cm? and so they had to do some weird thing with platforms to make Xiao Zhan look shorter in comparison.

Soundtrack wise, I personally think that ‘The Untamed’ was better in that sense. Where it had an amazing souding flute, this one had minor earrape in a nutshell.

This version made itself, in my eyes look more like a historical fighting anime as opposed to the BL vibes I was getting from ‘The Untamed’ and the other versions. They added a lot of action scenes and made the mystery more interesting for me. Along with this, the overall look and feel of this made it seem like it came from a completely different source material.

Manhua

Small FYI, as of writing this post the Manhua is at 147 Chapters.

(I should’ve kept up the trend and got a screenshot from that scene in the Manhua but I didn’t so here we are with gay rabbits.)

As your local internet friend who reads more manga than normal books nowadays, I enjoyed reading the manhua and finished it in a couple days.

Compared to the first 2 versions here, these last 2 are both things that you have to read to get through, albeit one has pictures and one doesn’t.

While normally, one would read silently, I like listening to music while I do. And seeing as the OST of ‘The Untamed’ sounds really nice, I listened to it while reading both the manhua and novel when I could.

This one brought out the BL elements that were missing from the first 2. They gave Wei Ying and Lan Zhan a lot of kissing or just straight up affectionate scenes which I think ties in with the general theming of the original novel more.

As this one is probably the closest of the adaptations to the original, it’s the least confusing to read, although that might’ve been influenced by my experiencing the story for the third time at this point. I say that, however, there were many story elements that weren’t present in either one prior to this.

Examples this can be seen with their collecting of body parts that belonged to the former Nie Sect Leader. In ‘The Untamed’ they find the sword spirit which guides them through the rest of the story. In the Donghua adaptation, they get the arm, but also get the head of the the Jin with the hundred holes curse which was an original addition. Here, they get the arm from Mo Manor, find the other one then find the torso and so on before finding the head in Jin GuangYao’s possession.

The flashbacks in this version were also executed really well, in my opinion, as it doesn’t feel super confusing while reading it and it gives just enough information to help the events unfold. It also gives us a chance to see how much of an ass(sorry) Wei Ying was when he was the Yiling Patriach from his own perspective as well as give us a moment of WangXian in the middle of all that chaos.

Novel

Here’s a picture of gay rabbits for everyone.

At this point, I was switching between the novel and the Manhua to read whichever one I wanted at any given time which might have blurred my sense of what belonged in each one so I’ll try my best to make sure.

Since this one is the original source material, it was clear from the get go that this will be the one with the least confusing version of events and the most amount of detail.

I was surprised on how close the manhua and ‘The Untamed’ was to the novel. Although, the former condensed the mystery to fit within the timeframe while the latter hasn’t finished just yet.

Personally, I like this author, and will probably read more of her works further down the line. Even though the version I read was in english, I still could feel the meaning behind certain aspects which I think shows her skill as an author.

The novel clearly shows the mischief that goes through Wei Ying’s head and their gradual (I say gradual but I think Lan Zhan just snapped) change of attitudes towards each other.

Arc One- Mo Manor

Past here I’ll break down the first arc of each one because I think all of them did it in relatively different ways. Be warned for spoilers if you haven’t watched or read all of them.

The Untamed (2019)

Out of all of these versions, this one definitely had me scratching my head in confusion the most even after watching it a second time once I finished the entire show.

As the only version that had the curse issued at the start as a moving factor of the story as well as the Yin Iron which was specifically made for this version, it didn’t explain enough at the start.

There were many things I could say were wrong about this beginning, from starting at a flashback to not properly introducing us to our characters but the biggest problem in my mind was the lack of explanation at the present.

Like I mentioned, starting at a flashback is a terrible idea as it gives the viewer high expectations only for it to be crushed the second it ends. Here, it shows a small portion of the battle at the Nightless City without much context then it quickly changes to 16 years later with a seemingly random group of people.

Another issue is the amount of useless characters who were introduced. In the other versions, there were only 2 Lan disciples who were given names and were introduced properly while here there were more than I want to count. Add to that the one telling stories about the YiLing Patriarch and the weird guy walking around with a flag, and you got yourself total confusion.

Donghua

This one was slightly less confusing to watch. As it starts with a clip of Wei Ying commanding corpses which matches the overall feel of the donghua. The rumors that he died stretched over the time skip and we meet this version of Mo Xuanyu who is caked with make up, whether or not he was a cut-sleeve (gay) in this version, I forgot.

It fully explains the curse and instead of having a couple of Lan disciples just standing there watching, we get to focus on the 2 important ones, Lan Sizhui and Lan JiYing. It gives us a slightly deeper insight into Wei Ying’s mind, as he states ‘you got the wrong one,’ just after being reincarnated, indicating that he isn’t as vicious as painted by the first few minutes of the show. Like the other versions, they also show how he considers the cons of using his demonic abilities and that Sizhui would probably tell on him to Lan Zhan, meaning that Sizhui was a keen, observant young man.

Manhua and the Novel

As for the introductions, these two were very similar. Both have the rumors of the Yiling Patriarch across the screen as we get further down the story and meet our main character.

It gets the details from the Donghua adaptation and mixes it with more information to create a more detailed account of what was happening, also making this Wei Ying seem smarter compared to his counterparts in other versions. He also hesitates more on showing his abilities, knowing that he’s going to be caught if he does.

Final Thoughts

As of writing this, I’m only halfway through the novel but it covers the portion until where the manhua is currently at. I would finish reading it before posting this but it would take too long and probably make this post even longer than it currently is, which isn’t such a good idea. If I had much more patience and effort I would really like to break down each arc and their differences from one another but I can’t be bothered right now. (Sorry)

I can safely say that in terms of adaptations, ‘The Untamed’ is relatively close to the novel, albeit a very condensed version. As flashback filled as it is, it wasn’t very confusing to watch past the first two episodes.

The Donghua adaptation takes several liberties, going more of an action oriented route instead of the calmer more, I wouldn’t say love but character oriented novel.

The manhua is definitely the closest to the novel, so if you really don’t want to read a lot of words, and I mean a lot of words, then go ahead and read it.

What else do I have to say...if you’re new to the story, welcome, if you’re a veteran who’s been here longer than me, sorry for taking up space on your feed. And congrats for making it to the end.

[jetsetlife138]

Are you still accepting prompts/requests? Could I get #74 or #75 with Alastor x fem reader if you are? Please and thank you in advance :)

Whew! Sorry this took so long! I just kept rambling on, haha. I hope that it’s enjoyable nonetheless! Cheers! xo 

74) “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you wanna fuck me and kill me at the same time.”

75) “Touch her again and I’ll rip your heart out through your fucking mouth.”

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

You just wanted a drink. After the day you had of being Katie Killjoy’s bitch at the 666 News, you were utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically. Being her assistant was your eternal punishment, and it was a fate worse than death.

The sound of the glass hitting the counter as the bartender set the much-needed shot down in front of you drew your attention. Raising the shot to your lips, you toasted the bartender before downing the dark brown liquid that left behind a delicious burn in your throat on the way down. 

Lifting your hand, you subtly asked for another, to which the bartender nodded with an understanding grin.

You downed the next shot, shaking your head at the bartender when he glanced back at you, silently checking to see if you wanted another.

You sighed, turning your back to the bar and surveying the scene. The bar was packed with the usual obnoxious crowd. All of them were repugnant and not worth the time of day to strike up a conversation with. Not to say that you thought too highly of yourself, but if you had to choose between forcing yourself to bear the company of one of those fools, or keep to yourself, you always chose the latter. 

Too caught up in your own thoughts, you hardly noticed a fiendish character approach you, taking a seat beside you, and leaning in too close for comfort. “Hey there, gorgeous. What’s a morsel like you doing over here all by yourself?”

Ignoring your signals that repelled men like him, he placed a hand on your thigh, waiting for an answer. Usually, you would smack it away, but your mind was hazy and your body was compliant due to the effects of the alcohol.

His hand continued to smooth over your thigh as you eyed him with disdain. “Remove your hand, please,” you asked nicely, finally coming to your senses.

He frowned. “Oh, come on, baby. Don’t be like that. I just want to show you a good time.”

You pushed his hand away, glaring at him. “I’m not interested. Please, leave me alone.”

For a moment, the masculine creature looked angry before he smoothed his expression over and made the motion to return his hand to it’s previous placement on your thigh, ready to sweet talk you into allowing him to stay, until a very noticeable and unnatural chill swept over you both. 

The man stopped in his tracks as a dark void seemed to sweep across the entirety of the bar, over the walls, floor, and the patrons, narrowing in on the two of you. 

It was then that you saw him next to you, morphing into a physical being rather than the shadow from which he had formed. 

The Radio Demon.

The demon whose very name brought panic and dread to those unfortunate enough to know of his reputation. His back was arched forward, poised to lunge as his crimson eyes pierced through the dark room, glaring directly at the man next to you, who was practically choking on his own breath at the very sight of the terrifying demon.

The unwelcome bar patron who couldn’t take a hint took a moment to collect himself before straightening his posture and closing his mouth, which had fallen agape due to the initial shock of the Radio Demon’s appearance. “Uhm,” he stammered, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I-Is there s-something that I can h-help you w-with, Mr. Radio Demon, s-sir?”

The tall figure leaned in even closer to address his trembling inferior, showing off his mouth full of sharp, dagger teeth in an unsettling grin. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your heart out through your fucking mouth.”

The man looked tack aback, creasing his brow in disbelief as he acted on instinct, immediately beginning to defend himself against the alpha male. “Excuse me? Listen, I just--”

The Radio Demon’s patience had snapped as he lunged forward, his already terrifying fangs now becoming several rows of fine needles as his jaw unhinged to an unnatural length, the cracks of his bones popping out of place loud enough to echo across the bar. His once round pupils were now threatening slits that could burn a hole through one’s soul. The claws at the end of his fingertips extended, shredding his gloves in the process. Suddenly, from beneath the flirtatious man appeared a void where black tentacles emerged, surrounding the terrified creature who cowered beneath the harrowing stare of the reputable demon. 

“Get out of my sight,” he warned one last time, the static in his voice producing a painful feedback over his barely unintelligible monstrous tone that crawled up from deep within his chest.  

Without allowing even another second to pass by, the man scrambled out of his seat, tripping over the tentacles as he rushed out of the bar through a path that had been cleared for him by the remaining patrons who were awestruck by the scene.

Returning to his former appearance, the Radio Demon turned to address the onlookers. “This is a social gathering, not a picture show for your entertainment,” he snapped. “Go about your business.”

Too afraid to argue, everyone turned their attention away from him, muttering among themselves over what they had just witnessed.

Taking the newly vacant seat beside you, the demon silently requested your hand, to which you hesitantly granted, placing your trembling palm gently in his own. Enclosing his fingers around yours, he brought the back of your hand to his lips as he kissed it lightly, smirking at you with his crimson orbs. “The name is Alastor, dear. I must apologize for that aggressive display, but I could sense your discomfort and wanted to assist you in ridding yourself of that unpleasant company.” 

“Uh… thank you… sir,” you added, earning a smirk from the demon. Grabbing your purse, you turned to leave. “I should, um… I should go.”

“Stay,” he warned, his eyes flashing. “Please, if you would be so kind as to keep me company, I would be in your debt. As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s difficult for me to make friends, and you seem like a delight.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you countered skeptically, “You don’t even know me. I could be a complete bitch and a bore to be around.”

Pausing for a moment to allow his crimson gaze to take in your form, he snickered. “I doubt that.” 

You exhaled a nervous laugh. “Uh- yeah. Anyway, thanks for ridding me of… unwanted company.” Your face flushed as your words sounded odd coming out of your mouth. Even though you seemed to be speaking coherently, your words sounded awkward to you, but his presence had you tongue-tied.

“So, dearest… what brings you here?” Alastor asked, his fanged smile beginning to creep into a smirk, and your stomach dipped.

“I just got off of work,” you replied, gripping the edge of the bar and breathing slowly to try and calm yourself. “I-I’m Katie Killjoy’s assistant for the… um... 666 News.”

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze holding you captive as you struggled to remember how to inhale and exhale normally. “You’re afraid of me.” It was just a statement; simple and true.

“Of course I am,” you reply breathlessly, chest still heaving.

His head tilted with curiosity for a moment before he turned to the bartender, signaling him in a silent request for drinks. The bartender swiftly prepared two glasses of what you had recognized as an Old Fashioned.

Sliding them down the bar, Alastor winked at him before placing a glass before you. “Drink,” he demanded, to which you immediately complied with, taking a deep swig.

Your heart was still pounding against your chest even though your breathing had slowed. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured you before taking a sip of his own drink. “I am simply here for a chat. That’s all.” 

Finding some liquid courage from the prior shots and the strong drink, you snapped, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you wanna fuck me and kill me at the same time,” you swallow through a parched throat.

“Ha! My, that’s abrasive,” Alastor chuckled, “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I’m proving that to you. Nothing to be afraid of.”

You gauged him with a skeptical glare. “Why are you even talking to me? You don’t like interacting with others, especially not in a romantic capacity…” Or so you’ve heard among the many rumors that had circulated, making you feel safe in the certainty of that knowledge.

“Except when I do,” he confided, his smile stretching even further up his cheeks to bare his fangs at your menacingly. “And I find your company to be very appeasing.”

“What… um… why did you single me out?” The tremor in your voice is obvious, but you don’t bother to try and mask it at this point.

He waited several beats before answering. “Darling, think of this as an experiment.” His head tilts again as he waits for a reaction. When you fail to indulge him, he continues. “You see, I’ve lacked inspiration for decades. My work has become… untamed, lacking focus - aimless, if you will. I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment.” “Excuse me?” You feel your cheeks heat with anger as it begins to dilute the fear. “Am I understanding this correctly? You think I’m just a damned experiment solely for your entertainment?”

His wicked smile doesn’t falter as he inspects you once again. “You will not be a casualty, if that is your concern.”

Chest tightening in rising panic, you struggled to find words. “That’s not… I won’t… what?”

Your built-up courage quickly deflated as he leaned in closer to you, a determined gleam in his eye.

“Relax, my dear,” he urged, his voice low and smooth. “The fun is just beginning.”

[undertaker1827]

Not a request. I would like to know your opinion on what Undertaker's overall plan is. He made those dolls and brought o!Ciel back but for what reason and what else is he planning? 🤔 Thank you! (feel free to delete)

Absolutely! This is part one of two, I’ll link the second part when it’s written. In the meantime, hello, welcome and strap yourselves in for one hell of a ride, we’re almost on 2000 words! Let’s go!

❗️obviously spoiler warning!!!! Also, I’ve only read up to chapter 148 so if you’ve read further, please don’t spoil anything for me either!! Thank you! ❗️

-

Way back at the end of the Circus Ark, undertaker said this;

So, whatever happened with Cloudia (which needs to be put in a whole other theories post) must have involved her being overly blasé about her life/soul, in a similar way to Ciel and Vincent, I would say. Obviously the connection between Undertaker and the Phantomhives is much bigger than anything we know about and I’m willing to bet it is connected to more than just Undertaker bringing R!Ciel back to life (again, another theory post needed).

ANYWHO back on track.

Now Undertaker always talks about being happy/laughing/not wasting your soul (and by extension, life). We know he committed suicide when he was human (yet another tangent I want to go off on) after which he obviously didn’t want to have to face another life. So what, did he just get sick of reaping and the soul world and decide if he was being forced to live anyway, he should do something with his life this time? Which is where going to the human world comes into play, but (okay we’re off track again) what really happened 50 years ago?? Why did he actually leave dispatch and effectively become a fugitive? Surely there must be more to it than ‘I got bored’. And what, he just magically got involved with the Phantomive family? One of the most important families in England who also happen to operate within the underworld and work for the queen? I don’t think so. He definitely knew what he was doing. The question is, why did he do it?

Back to the task in hand, during this part of Book of the Atlantic;

Ciel actually looks scared. Ignoring everything we know about him/his personality and just looking at his face in the drawing, he looks young and frightened. Now imagine when O!Ciel was little. Undertaker would have been around a lot when him and R!Ciel were growing up, we even see him holding up the curtain behind the kids for their photograph later on in the series. O!Ciel now, as the Earl, is obviously very used to Undertaker’s antics, like his prices for information, so perhaps this was why he was goaded into paying said price himself earlier on, instead of letting Sebastian do it. Clearly, having seen Undertaker’s face for the first time, seen him attack Grell (who even Seabstain had to play dirty to beat) AND look serious all in one hit? Big shock. But that face to me is still a picture of fear rather than surprise, again demonstrating how well Undertaker kept his true identity hidden. Still, even as the lowkey crazy mortician, he’s not exactly someone you would trust your kids with. This says to me Vincent knew more about Undertaker than just face value and he knew the reaper would stay loyal to the Phantomhives. And THAT’S another thing; why?? Why would he, how could Vincent be so certain? Was it because of Cloudia? Did Vincent grow up with Undertaker around the same way the twins did?

But then there are other questions! How did he end up establishing his business? As in both sides of it. Dispatch must have searched for him, he was their best in collections, so how did he keep his true identity a secret from literally everyone, even them? Also, how much did the Phantomhives (prior to Ciel) know about him? Did Cloudia or Vincent know he was a reaper? I don’t believe that he was as close to Vincent and the twins as he was without Vincent knowing something was up. I mean the earl was very clever, in his line of work he had to be, and he trusted Undertaker with his kids, which must mean something.

Then there’s the thing with Othello. I mean clearly they know each other, hardly surprising, but Undertaker was this high flying INCREDIBLY serious collections reaper, compared to Othello (much as I love him) who couldn’t fight and ended up in forensics, the department which has practically no contact with the human world. So it makes sense that Othello knows about Undertaker, maybe even looked up to him, who knows, but why would Undertaker know Othello?

And whilst we’re on the subject (which we’re not) how did he get all those scars?? When he’s drawing wearing different clothes than normal, they are literally all over him. Anyone could have been fatal, particular focus on the one around his neck and across his chest. Now when we see him working as a reaper, he doesn’t have those scars. Given how good a fighter he is, there’s not a human in the world who could have done that. That leaves anything supernatural - demons, angels or even other reapers - which would have meant he fought them and survived (barely?). But the injuries must have been very bad to have scarred like that in the first place. Either that, or they’re fake and he just outs them on to mess with the characters’ (our) minds.

But moving on, when Ciel asks ‘to what end?’, Undertaker replies with;

So in other words, when he first rocked up in the human world, it probably was just curiosity. He needed some sort of a cover up for who he really was, so he set up a morgue. Why not? Maybe, during his many reaping jobs, he had come into contact with the work/estate of the Phantomhives. Enter Cloudia, and whatever happened there, happened. But somehow he went to serious reaper looking at the human world and the individuals living in it as one big experiment to actually caring about his lab rats. To have Cloudia’s mourning locket and be as fond of it as he is, something, in some way, must have changed. Another question is the rest of the mourning lockets. Unless they’re just for show so he can carry Cloudia’s and still fit in reasonably well (which I don’t think is the case) he must have cared about each of those people, and thus far, we have no idea who they are.

But then there’s THIS;

Bold words for a guy who cares far far too much about Ciel’s family, knowing full well right from the beginning that he would well and truly outlive them. But here is where the caring part comes in;

Unless he was taking about Sebastian. But even if he was, I think he was including himself in that statement to some extent as well, bearing in mind that of the people present, only Ciel was aware that his father knew Undertaker.

Now as for the Weston College Arc, Undertaker was obviously trying to keep away from Sebastian and Ciel for as long as possible, I suspect so that they found out about Derrick at the ‘right’ moment (for him at least) and to ensure a fight didn’t break out in front of the entire school, which would guarantee he could get away quickly without anyone knowing where he was going. But moving back in time a bit, Undertaker was involved with Weston College sometime prior to the Campania debacle (as Rian Stoker was with him when he arrived) and been contacted by Edgar Redmond, no doubt via Viscount Druitt, so all of that probably has something to do with how he managed to take over as headmaster so quickly (after all, this arc takes places directly after the Book of the Atlantic). He had been forced to blow a cover he’d been keeping up for the last 50 years so he needed somewhere to go quickly. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had worked out that Weston College would be where Ciel went next too and as we established when he allowed Ciel to keep the mourning lockets, Undertaker clearly doesn’t want to cut any mores ties with him than necessary.

Then there’s this;

I think what Undertaker really wants to do is bring back Vincent, if not Cloudia, but given that reanimation requires a near perfect corpse, neither of these options are especially viable. As for his reasons, he is clearly very attached to them, and if you ask me, his lack of care for personal space in any capacity says he’s lonely, so I suspect that’s part of it. However, I think there’s probably a more important reason than that, but I honestly don’t know what. I believe it will be tied in with his mysterious connection to the Phantomhive family, but as we don’t know about that either, its difficult to say.

Now this part;

has always confused me. What was Sebastian referring to? And the fact that Undertaker implied their strength is equal? He would have killed Sebastian back on the ship if it hadn’t picked that exact moment to sink. All very intriguing.

Then this whole double page spread;

which really only gives more questions than it answers.

But now! Onto the Green Witch Arc. The bit to focus on has to be the interaction between Diedrich and Undertaker, in which Undertaker makes one very important comment;

Humans. He specifically said humans, meaning Diedrich knew he was a reaper, so by extension so did Vincent and most likely Cloudia as well. I admit, I had forgotten that sentence, so this explains why Vincent trusted Undertaker with the twins (which I was going on about earlier). And I assume when he said this;

He was talking about bringing Vincent back. Even he couldn’t bring back someone without their body.

[alirhi]

chapter 17!

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 17/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: nada. Well... Ali attempting comedy. I suppose that requires its own special warning lmao Notes: Loki's just so done lol

"I hate this plan, Thor."

"Yes, I heard you the first dozen times."

"This is the dumbest idea you could possibly have come up with!"

"We could always try Get Help."

"And use it on whom, pray tell?!"

"Thanos."

"Don't be an idiot." Privately, Loki thought he might as well be asking the Earth to cease its tireless spin, but he had to try.

Thor only smirked at him, the bastard. "Just keeping things in perspective. There's always room for a worse plan."

"...Thank you."

"What's Get Help?" Bucky didn't even glance up from the little device in his hand. Ever mindful of the terrain and unwilling to see him mess up his pretty face by falling on it, Loki was constantly moving things out of his distracted lover's path just before he tripped.

"Nothing, darling. Has Darcy sent you another?"

He grinned, holding the thing – Darcy swore it was a telephone when she gave it to him, though he'd yet to see it used for a single call – out for Loki to see. "She sent a video!"

Eira was on the screen, splashing about in a tub that appeared to contain more bubbles than water. She was having the time of her life, and both of her enamored parents couldn't help smiling like fools.

"I hate being away from her."

Loki winced, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I know. Believe me, love, I know. But she isn't safe around these people. Better to leave her in Darcy's care until we can be sure she isn't in any danger."

"I still can't quite believe I'm a dad!" At the pure joy and wonder in his voice and on his beautiful face, his ancient lover smiled again. He still had a long way to go before he was truly recovered from what HYDRA had done to him, but it couldn't be denied that when he was happy, Bucky was the cutest damned thing.

"I still think you're overreacting," Thor grumbled as they stepped off the elevator at last. "These are good people. They'd never harm a little girl."

"Uh... Loki's not in chains. Why is Loki here and not in chains? Security!"

The God in question rolled his eyes. "Lovely to see you again, too, Stark."

Tony looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, vomit, or jump into one of his suits of armor. "What the hell is this, Point Break? You promised this psycho would be in a cell for the rest of eternity. And who's the weirdo staring at his phone?"

"...Bucky?!"

Thor stopped before he'd even truly begun to offer the explanation he didn't really have, mouth hanging open and one finger in the air. Confused, he and Loki watched silently as Steve Rogers practically flew across the room and Bucky slowly lifted his head, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time since they'd left New Mexico.

"Steve?" He grinned and pocketed the phone immediately to throw his arms around his friend. "Steve! Holy shit, it is you!"

"Who is Bucky?" Thor mumbled to Loki, getting an exasperated eye roll for his troubles.

He knew, of course; when they'd first met, the handsome young soldier had introduced himself as Bucky. Loki had simply refused to call him that. Still, prior knowledge or no, he couldn't resist having just a bit of fun with his brother, so he decided, in lieu of a proper explanation, to treat it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just to hammer home how incredibly stupid Thor truly was. "I would imagine, given the context playing out before your clearly useless eyes, that it's a pet name for James. Derived from his middle name – Buchanan – if I had to guess. Honestly, Thor, how do you function?"

"Can someone please address the unfettered genocidal psychopath standing in my living room?"

Bucky flinched, moving back from Steve and giving Tony a slightly helpless look. "That was... I was under HYDRA's thumb, I was never a Nazi..."

"Not you, darling," Loki assured him stepping between the two newly thawed WWII veterans, and more importantly, between Bucky and the confused, wary Avengers. "He's referring to me."

"Wait, what?" Steve peered around him, trying unsuccessfully to catch his childhood friend's downcast gaze. "That's where you've been all this time? With HYDRA?"

"I didn't have a choice," he mumbled, face going red as he seemed to sink into himself.

"Quite literally," was Loki's frosty interjection. He pushed the soldier back when he got too close to his Sergeant and snapped, "If anyone wishes to interrogate or criticize him, I will happily transform you into something that cannot speak nor breathe."

"Just turn yourself into an elephant," Tony snapped. "Because you are the elephant in the room right now! Thor, explain to me why your insane adopted brother and his pet Nazi are in my home!"

"I was never a Nazi!"

"I've known Bucky all my life, Stark. There's no way he'd have joined up with those people."

"Nazis, HYDRA, what's the difference?!"

"Soldat?"

All eyes immediately turned to Natasha as she approached and finally got a good look at the man Loki was trying so hard to shield. Loki grimaced. "Oh. You."

Bucky flinched, looking as though she'd just slapped him. "Natalia, please don't call me that. It's Bucky, okay?"

"Sure, yeah." She laughed, launching herself at him. "And it's Natasha now."

Her arms over his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist were more than Loki could bear. When he noticed that Bucky was holding her up with both hands cupping her rear, he'd more than had enough. With a growl, he used magic to pry her loose and pin her to the ceiling. "That is quite enough, Agent Romanov. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make me tell you again."

"Put her down, Loki." Oh, great. There was Banner, eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, but approaching him nonetheless. "Before I let the other guy put you down again."

"Doctor Banner," he ground out as he slowly and more than a little reluctantly set the struggling spy down on the floor. "Delightful. Well, I see the gang's all here. Thor, this was your harebrained scheme, so why don't you clean up this mess?"

"Happily," Thor muttered, "if you'll stop making a bigger one."

"No promises. The next person to lay hands on James will be a smear of blood and innards on the wall."

"Loki, calm down." Hugging him from behind, Bucky murmured in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

Making no effort at all to prevent the Avengers from hearing him, Loki snapped, "I don't trust these people."

"For the record," Natasha pointed out, "we're not the ones who tried to blow up New York a week ago."

He smirked. "Nor am I, Agent Romanov. That was someone on your side, if you recall."

"The Chitauri?"

"Oh, that. I thought you were referring to the bomb." A little, dismissive shrug, and then, "Most of the damage to the city was still done by you lot. The Chitauri were mostly just...flying around."

"Also trying to kill people."

"Loki needs our help," Thor called out, just loud enough to drown out any further conversation. The Avengers all gaped at him as though he'd gone mad. It made Loki smile. "There was another force behind the attacks last week. Someone far worse was pulling Loki's strings-"

"Really, Thor, I'm not a puppet!"

"Unless you want to explain this yourself and hope any of them listen to a word that comes out of your weaselly mouth instead of simply killing you, sit down and shut up, brother."

"Marionette, anyway." When everyone turned to stare at him, Bucky blushed. "The-the ones with strings. That's marionettes, not puppets."

With a patient smile, Steve gently chided him, "Not really the time, Buck."

"...Right. Sorry. Continue not bothering to listen to each other. I'll be over here." Out came the phone, and Bucky was lost to them all as he scrolled through pictures of Eira again.

"What's with the phone?" Loki flinched and turned; he hadn't realized Barton was in the room until then. "Isn't he a little old to be sucked into that thing while we're all talking?"

"He's looking at photographs of their daughter," Thor told him with a dismissive wave of his hand, ignoring the death glare he received from Loki for it. "Now, if we can get back on-"

"...Their daughter?" Tony interrupted, stepping forward. "I'm sorry... Who's the other half of the 'they' in that equation?"

When Thor opened his mouth to explain, Loki grabbed his arm and squeezed hard enough to make him gasp. "I will kill you."

"And then they will kill you, and the world will end when there's no one to warn them about Thanos, and James and Eira will be left unprotected, likely to suffer horribly and die."

With a frustrated growl, Loki released him and, briefly, shifted to his female form. "I am, alright? Everyone's burning curiosity satisfied?" Shifting back, he took advantage of the stunned silence that had taken hold of the room and snapped, "There is a mad Titan with the ability to mind-control a God out there attempting to collect the most powerful artifacts in the universe, and while he declined to share the purpose of this venture with me during my captivity, I find myself seriously doubting that it involves giving everyone their own kitten. Now, can we focus, please?!"

Banner frowned. "Who did he mind-control?"

"How?!" He was beginning to get a stupidity-induced headache. Hands flying up in a wide gesture to the room at large, Loki looked at Thor and demanded, "How is it you think these people can possibly help?"

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[kristallioness]

Burning bridges

Summary: Aang has a nightmare about the first time he firebent, and the last time he physically hurt Katara.

Word count: 3,511

Author's note: This idea came to me after I'd rewatched "The Deserter" this February. Sometimes I too have woken up in the morning after seeing a weird, or a bad dream. On rare occasions, I start shedding tears because either I remember what I saw and it really disturbed me mentally, or I remember the (sad) feeling that I got from seeing it. So I just pictured Aang waking up in the middle of the night and frantically trying to grab Katara's hands in the dark to check for the burns, only to end up realizing it was nothing but a bad dream. Set postwar, somewhere around the events prior to or after "Imbalance", I imagined. Tears were shed while writing this.

----------x----------

He'll never forget that shriek. That piercing sound that made his heart sink into his boots. The feeling of losing everything he'd worked so hard on building up from scratch ever since they'd met. If she didn't wanna leave him behind after he'd hidden the map that showed the location of her father, then this would certainly be the end of their friendship.

He'd attacked her. His recklessness had caused physical harm to her. It wasn't on purpose, but that didn't matter anymore. Her crouched figure on the riverbank right in front of him spoke otherwise. He'd screwed up, badly.

"Katara! I'm so sorry!" Aang exclaimed. But sorry didn't take away the unbearable pain that she felt coursing through the fresh blood-red stripes on her hands. He airbended himself across the river and softly landed right next to her on the shore.

She was crying. Aang didn't know what to do except stand there and watch her suffer. He was too afraid to say or do anything else, in case he'd hurt her even more. It was all because of his impatience in the first place. Caution must be the key.

"It was an accident. Katara, I'm so sorry!"

He tried to excuse his actions. She needed to know he didn't mean for this to happen. He squatted closer to her to have a look at the damage he had done. But Katara turned her back towards him. He felt like drowning into the shallow river in front of them.

Aang attempted to approach her from another angle, but she kept turning away from him. Her arms were securely crossed over her stomach, hiding the shameful redness that pulsated through her palms.

She'd managed to get herself up on her feet while he was busy running circles around her. She even tried to run away from him, but Aang couldn't let her go. Not like this.

"Katara, please, wait! I'm sorry! I wanna help you!"

He eventually caught up with her and stopped her in her tracks by standing in her way. She didn't seem to want to continue running, but she still balked at showing her hands. No matter how much he pleaded for her to let him help her, Katara shook her head and just continued crying.

Aang had a look around their surroundings and the limited resources. What could he use to heal burns? Some sort of tea leaves? Should he blow some cool air onto her skin? Then it hit him, or actually it splashed against his left boot when he stepped into a steeper part of the riverbank - water. He'd soothe it with water.

"Come here."

Somehow Katara didn't protest when he gently grabbed her shoulders and urged her to kneel down on the ground together with him. Aang reached for her arms on either side and slowly brought them closer to the river. He couldn't bear to look at her hands once she revealed them to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and simply dipped them into the river without looking.

He could practically hear her gritting her teeth together. Her trembling from the unpleasant contact between liquid and scorched tissue transmitted over to him through his own shaky hands. Had he gone too fast?

Katara heaved a sigh of relief and stopped writhing. Silence fell upon the pair, allowing the airbender to release a breath he'd been holding in for too long. Finally, the water started to work.

But then, something heavy fell against him. When Aang opened his eyes, he was surprised to see what the dead weight was.

"Katara?.. Katara!"

Her lifeless body had fallen against his side. He dragged her higher into his embrace, searching for any sign that would indicate why she'd fainted. If that's what'd even happened. But before he could do anything, his attention was caught by something else.

The river in front of them started to turn crimson from the spot he'd laid her hands in, and the source came from her burns. The bloody water spread quickly throughout the entire river, even upstream, like it was sucking the life right out of her. He didn't firebend an open wound into Katara's hands, did he? She couldn't have lost so much blood.

At the same time, the sky grew dim and everything around them turned gray, with the same bloody colour eventually engulfing the sun and turning it completely red. It was as if the lunar eclipse dawned upon them.

Aang could feel his heart pounding against his chest. The darkness threatened to swallow them alive. Only the blood-red river and sun, or was it the moon, cast some sort of light into their world. He held onto Katara for dear life, whispering pleas to her as tears rolled down his cheeks. Anything that would help him undo this mess.

"Please, Katara, wake up! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..."

Suddenly, everything became pitch-black. Did he just pull another all-powerful Avatar move and make the sun disappear from the sky? Where did the forest and the tainted river go? More importantly, where did Katara go? She was right there in his arms!

Aang turned around and startled when he met her face just inches away from his own. She was unconscious, lying on her left side, facing him. Oh no... Was his firebending more deadly than he'd imagined?

Her hands, he had to find them and heal them somehow. He instantly caught one near her face, and by tracing her bare arm, he found the other one resting above her hip. He twisted her wrists a little bit in order to see her palms. But to his surprise, there were.. no burns?

Aang blinked several times in disbelief. He tenderly ran his fingertips over her hands, grazing the edges of her palms and straightening each of her clenched fingers to examine the inner parts. There really were no burns, no angry scars, no smell of burnt flesh.. nothing. Merely soft, peach-scented skin from when she'd washed her hands before bedtime.

Bedtime, he remembered. He was in such a severe daze that he hadn't even realized it'd all been a horrible nightmare. Except that, a couple of years ago, parts of it had been a painful reality. But right now, Aang didn't know which one caused him more heartache.

He found himself unable to swallow the lump in his throat, which forced him to weep instead. He clasped Katara's hands and covered his face with them to hide away from the world. Nobody could witness him expressing his sorrow behind that protective curtain.

Unfortunately, a few sobs escaped his throat. He tried to hold them in, but it was enough to disturb his girlfriend's peaceful slumber. Katara, still half-asleep, yawned and opened her eyes to look at him, hidden between her own ten fingers.

"Aang.. what's wrong?"

A shiver ran down his spine. He wanted to jump out of bed and run away at the sound of her voice, just like she'd done in his dream. So she wouldn't have to see him like this.

Maybe there was still a way he could salvage this situation. Aang took a deep, calming breath and gulped in order to get rid of his cracking voice.

"I'm sorry, I woke you up. Go back to sleep," he said in the most collected tone he could, after which he shut his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Rolling over to his other side would've surely caused too much suspicion.

Katara groaned as she blinked a couple of times to get the sleep out of her eyes. She raised her head a little bit to get a good look at her boyfriend. She wouldn't have suspected a thing if she hadn't felt something wet drying up on both of her hands. It forced her awake from instinct.

Aang had to let go of her hands when she propped herself up on her elbow, the shadow of her looming over him. He peeked at her as she leaned in closer, barely noticing the streak that ran over his nose and down the side of his face. There was a damp circle near the spot where his right cheek was pressed into the pillow. He'd been caught teary-eyed. She frowned.

"But, sweetie.. you're crying."

Her finger tickled his nose when she attempted to wipe away his tears. Aang nuzzled his face against the pillow so she wouldn't see them. He dared to look her in the eye a moment later, when she wouldn't stop what she was doing. Katara tilted her head and gave him a soft smile.

"Please, Aang.. talk to me. What's going on?"

He slowly brought a hand up to her own and grabbed the back of her right hand one more time, moving it closer to his face. He had to be sure the burns were healed. Upon finding reassurance after another thorough look, he laced his fingers with hers and laid their entwined hands over his eyes once again. He started crying.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry, Katara.." he repeated, suddenly finding it difficult to control his noisy breathing. She guessed that even airbenders couldn't win the battle against sadness sometimes.

Katara lay down opposite to him and nudged herself closer. One by one, she broke her fingers free from in between his own.

"Why are you sorry?"

She laid her hand above his and slid it down his dry cheek so she could see him. She wanted to see those grey eyes of his. To have a closer look at the storm that was raging in his mind. To calm the turbulent waters that didn't seem to stop and found their end on the pile of feathers underneath his head, drip by drip.

But Aang didn't have the heart to meet her halfway. She could sense the tension leave from the muscles on his face with each stroke she gifted him over his cheek. His knitted brows rose higher and he stopped squeezing his eyes shut with so much effort. At least he wasn't trying so hard to hide it anymore.

He opened his mouth, but the words remained lost in his throat. Until he stuttered.

"F-for hurting you."

Katara felt a bit lost.

"You didn't hurt me. When did that happen?"

She did have a point. If he didn't tell her what he was talking about, she wouldn't understand.

Aang breathed in and out deeply a couple of times, in order to calm down and cease his crying. So he could speak to her like a normal human being. He thought that the big sniff he took made her pity him even more. What could he possibly be worked up about so much?

"You know.. when I first tried to learn firebending."

Her mouth fell slightly agape similarly to his for a second, before she was reminded of where they were now.

"Sweetie, that was almost four years ago."

To her, it was ancient history. But to him, it seemed like it'd only been yesterday.

Aang felt her fingertips brush over his eyelashes repetitively. Her thumb slipped across his nose, wiping off fresh tears that wanted to find their way down onto the pillow. She was urging him to open his eyes and look at her. But.. how could he, after what he had done?

"Yes.. but I saw it happen again, tonight," he explained, ensuing a moment of silence, until everything started to make sense for his girlfriend.

"So that's why you're upset. You had a bad dream," she said sympathetically. It sounded so simple coming from her mouth, like it was no big deal. For him, it was one of the worst mistakes he'd ever made in his life. Aang finally opened his eyes.

"But it wasn't a bad dream. It really happened. I firebent at you. I burnt your hands."

His voice sounded full of regret. He cautiously took a hold of her hands once more, his fingers running along the wrinkles in her palm and the bent angles of her own slim fingers. She could feel them trembling a bit in his grasp.

"I know. And I forgave you. It was an accident."

She wasn't sure whether he was listening to her or not. Aang merely shook his head against the pillow, like he was denying the incident ever happening. Or he couldn't believe that she was so kind to him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated one last time.

Katara scooted over under the sheets and bumped her forehead against his own. She looped one arm over his shoulder and slithered her other hand below his chin. She held him close and made him look her in the eye.

"I forgive you, Aang. Do you hear me?"

A new wave of tears spilled over his face. He'd never felt so thankful. She always knew how to get him to open up to her.

However, he wasn't prepared for what she did next. Katara brought her hands back onto his face, firmly laying them on his cheeks. His tears trickled down the back of her hand, the one she'd squeezed in between the pillow and his cheek. He expected her to tell him to stop crying, that it's all in the past or something. But instead, she did the exact opposite. She let him cry.

"It's okay, Aang. Just let it all out."

He did. Aang felt like a heavy burden had been lifted off of his chest. He closed his eyes for a minute, taking all the time he felt he needed to weep.

Katara noticed him return her smile. She was so happy to be able to witness him make peace with this incident.

"Your tears are made of water, so in a way, you're healing on the inside, just as much as you're healing the old burns on my hands on the outside. Think of these as healing tears."

She could really feel him grinning into her palms now. Even though there were no burns evident on her hands anymore, he was still healing them by letting the tears from his eyes fall onto her skin.

That was water, the element she used to heal others, including herself. If he hadn't thought of crying as a healing process for both his mental being and her physical self before, he sure did now.

He lifted a hand above hers, softly guiding her thumb over his nose with the help of his own, teaching her how to wipe away his tears.

"You're so good, Katara. I don't know why nor what I've done to deserve you," he spoke softly, his gaze meeting her own. She thought that giving him a gentle nudge would've been inappropriate, given his delicate state. But she knew he wasn't supposed to be the one making her cry, too.

She blinked away the tears in the corners of her eyes. Aang felt her lips leave a wet kiss over his mouth. He tried to return it, but she spoke before he could.

"You didn't need to do anything to 'deserve' me," she murmured lovingly, then pressed her lips against his own more firmly, giving him a proper kiss this time.

Once she pulled away, Aang used the opportunity to dry off the last of his tears. He held her hand in his own, using her palm as a tissue to wipe his cheeks with. She grazed over any wet spots he'd missed with her fingertips.

When they were more or less dry, he grabbed both her hands again and brought each one to his lips, sealing them with a kiss in the middle of her palm. He knitted his brows.

"I'm really sorry for hurting you back then. I'd never do anything to hurt you ever again, I promise."

Katara ran a finger over the corner of his mouth, gently pulling it up into a smile. Oddly enough, she'd been smiling at him almost all this time.

"I know," she assured him. Her smile faded a bit when Aang averted his gaze. He still seemed a tad worried to her.

"Is there something else that's on your mind?"

He hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Tell me," Katara pleaded. Her blue eyes grew wider when he reached his hand out for her own cheek this time. He hesitated for a second, afraid that his touch may leave another burn on her face, before he carefully lowered it. She followed his caresses with curiosity.

"I was just thinking.. when I firebent at you back then, you ran away. And you wanted to run away in my dream, too. If I did hurt you again, unintentionally.. would you stay by my side?"

He didn't expect her to answer in a heartbeat.

"Yes. Because you'd never hurt me, at least not intentionally. And even if you did, well.."

Aang's breath got caught in his throat for a second, but luckily she shook her head at that disturbing thought, which caused unease in both their stomachs. Did she really think that he..?

"No. You would never do that. And that's why I'd probably forgive you. I'd forgive you a thousand times if necessary, cause I know you wouldn't mean it. I know we'll have huge arguments and stuff like that as we grow older.. But no matter the reason, I would never leave you. I couldn't. If I left, then I'd be breaking my own, and your heart, too."

Katara tenderly laced her fingers with his and picked up his hand from her cheek, lowering it to her chest. Once again, she sensed a bit of resistance before Aang allowed her to let him touch her.

She pressed his palm against there, right above her beating heart. If that didn't convince him, she didn't know what would.

"I love you, Aang. And I'm not gonna leave you behind. Not now, not ever."

The airbender let his fingers run along the cottony fabric while his focus remained on her words. If she was lying, according to Toph, he should be able to sense some sort of physical reaction. But he couldn't detect anything like that.

A tremble? Katara's body language showed that she was utterly relaxed around him. Perhaps wanting to look away and lock her gaze on something different? No, she maintained eye contact with him, even when he was looking somewhere else other than straight into her blue eyes.

Were her cheeks blushing? It didn't look like it. Aang wasn't sure since he couldn't tell in the darkness, but she still wore that warm smile. That much he could see.

Did her heart skip a beat when she talked to him? No, the subtle vibrations thumping against his palm and fingertips showed no sign of fear of being caught in a lie. A lying person's heartbeat would've been drumming away a lot faster than that. Hers was steady and strong. Out of love, not fear.

The corners of Aang's mouth curled into a smile. He slowly clenched his fingers back into a fist, like he wanted to grab Katara's heart and protect it from all the hurt it'd gone through, and will go through in the future. But he didn't need to worry about that. Cause she wouldn't leave him behind.

"Never?"

"Never," she assured him once more, sealing her promise with another kiss on his lips. The airbender remained lingering over everything that was said, his finger softly scratching the cloth covering her chest. Katara gifted him with a couple of more strokes along his now-dried-up cheek to soothe him.

"Enough dwelling on the past, okay, sweetie? Don't you remember what you learned after we saved that fisherman and his wife from that storm? We can't change what's already been, so let's stop worrying about it, and focus on our shared future instead. We're here now, so let's make the most of it. Shape it the way we want it to be, together."

Okay, so Aang still knew her well enough. She'd simply left the comforting wisdom part to the end. He had to admit, her optimistic and forward-looking attitude did manage to cheer him up. He gave her a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Katara."

He tickled her chest by drawing a heart shape above the lilac pyjama she was wearing. The sensation prompted her to chuckle before she brought a finger to her lips and hushed him.

"Now, sleep.."

Aang heeded her advice and nuzzled his nose into his pillow. She swayed her hand in front of his face, like a mother telling her child to close his eyes and rest. He played along and shut his eyes on cue. A minute or two later, when he was already drifting away towards a much more peaceful slumber, he felt something warm smoothly crawl over his face.

Katara kept her hands close. One of them was tucked below his chin while the other one sprawled out over his cheek. This way, he didn't have to worry about burning her hands again. She was holding onto him this time, and she wouldn't let go.

[thelightiningthief]

14

first of all, SORRY that this is coming much later than probably expected!!!! i’m So Bad at writing things in a timely manner

second of all, timelines are....not my strongsuit, so i’m gonna make this idk the summer between botl and tlo so PLEASE bear with me here

chilly summer evenings

Percy lay on the bottom bunk of Cabin 3, staring up at the pictures stuck between the frame and the mattress above him. His arm had already gone numb from propping up his head, but that was the least of his worries.

It was the first of August. The beginning of the month that decided his fate. Well, Percy would be the one making the decision, but it was still the Big Month everyone had been waiting for: the prophecy coming true, the imminent war, Kronos’s impending return in Luke’s body. All of it put a sour taste in his mouth that the fresh sea breeze from the Long Island Sound couldn’t whisk away. It wasn’t like he could do anything right now, though, so why was he still up?

Well, there was one picture in particular that kept drawing his attention: It was him and Annabeth after they’d just won the chariot race together, right before Thalia had been de-tree-ified. The edges of the photograph were frayed from how many times he’d held it in his hands, shoved it into his pockets, and crammed it into whatever small space he could. While it was supposed to be in the Big House on Chiron’s cork board, Percy had asked him if he could hold onto it until the end of the summer. Chiron knew this might be his last summer (hell, it might be the last summer any of them would enjoy), so he relented it to him. Ever since, Percy had stared at it any chance he got, memorizing the happiness it held. A small glimmer of hope.

What he was really looking at, though, the thing that sourced all of that hope in a tiny bottle, was Annabeth’s smile. Percy must have already traced that giant and rare smile a thousand times, practically having imprinted it to the back of his eyelids, but he didn’t think he could ever get sick of it.

Things between them had been... Strange. Good strange! Well, sometimes bad strange... But overall just strange? Did that make sense?

Who was he kidding—nothing made sense anymore. They were on the brink of war for Zeus’s sake! But Annabeth had kissed him before he almost died (for the bajillionth time), but they still hadn’t talked about it. Every time Percy even thought about bringing it up to her, his head felt like cotton and he couldn’t feel his knees. At first, he thought a wood nymph was messing with him, but Grover and Beckendorf both said he was probably just nervous.

They were a lot closer than last summer. But he could say that about any of his friends! Him and Beckendorf had been talking a lot more, too! Most of their talks had to do with Annabeth and Percy’s giant crush on her, but that was besides the point.

Before he could even consider actually turning in for the night, there’s a sharp rap at his door. His body is up with a hand flying to his—oh, right, he’s in boxers. Percy considers his game plan when there’s another knock, a bit more urgent this time. “C’mon, Seaweed Brain! It’s freezing out here!”

His once held breath catches in his throat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to late nights like this with Annabeth, but it was the first one since everything went down. Since they’d destroyed the Labyrinth. Since he’d practically killed himself. Since she’d kissed him.

“That’s it, I’m just coming in,” she huffed out, clearly annoyed. (Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last time.) Then Percy’s cabin door was opening right before his eyes to reveal... No one. Just a gust of cold wind that raised goosebumps on his bare skin. He shivered as the door closed just as eerily, and Annabeth finally took off her Yankee’s cap only to punch his arm.

“Ow!” he winced and rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”

“Dude it’s freezing out there, and you were just standing here? Figures,” she rolled her eyes and threw herself onto his scattered bed.

Percy bristled at the slight jab. “Well, sorry! You kind of just dropped in!”

“Excuse me, I came in the front door. And you had more than enough time to put on pants, at least,” she pointed out, covering his lower half with her hands with a giggle.

A harsh blush crept up his cheeks, and he quickly moved to his dresser as she continued to laugh at his embarrassment. He was just buttoning up his jeans when Percy noticed Annabeth was lying back on his bed, mimicking the pose he’d held just ten minutes before. In the dim light from the moon, he could just see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Where’d you get all these pictures?” she whispered out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over to the fountain Poseidon had gifted to him. “Uh, all over, I guess? They just kept popping up, and I’d asked Chiron if I could have a few.” He said the last part faster than the rest, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on it.

Annabeth’s head perked up to look at him sideways, her gray eyes a bit wider than they had been a moment prior. She searched his own green ones for an answer to an unasked question. It wasn’t difficult for Percy to feel as though he were being scrutinized and start to feel self conscious about the whole situation. Was she seeing right through him?

“What? I just—I just wanted the memories, I guess,” he mumbled out, crossing his arms semi-defensively.

She peered up at him for longer, her eyebrows coming down slowly yet decisively. He didn’t know if he should say something, but he didn’t even know where to start. Yeah, I’ve pretty much collected pictures of us to stare at late at night, because I kinda really like you. In fact, you caught me in the middle of doing that tonight! Ha! Great timing, by the way. Gods, that’d just be weird!

Suddenly, she was up and dragging him by the arm out the door of his cabin. “Let’s go, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy barely had enough time to snatch his blanket from the bed before they were thrust out into the chilly evening air. There was no need to worry about harpies with impending war, but Apollo and Artemis seriously needed to work something out, because it felt completely unprecedented to be this cold at the beginning of August. His teeth were chattering by the time Annabeth had plopped herself down on the sand of the beach, dragging him down with her; she took the blanket clenched in his freezing fists and worked determinedly to wrap them both within it.

After a moment of simply basking in the sudden warmth, Percy became uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Annabeth. To make matters worse, if he scooched even a little to his right, the blanket would completely relent and let in that frigid sea air. So, he sat perfectly still, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

“You okay, Perce? We can go back if you want,” she said with a slight twinge in her voice that made him look at her for what felt like the first time that night.

Her hair was glowing in the moonlight, silver as if she had joined the Hunters, yet still that bright golden ray of light Percy was so accustomed to seeing a dirty blonde after weeks on a quest. The gray streak that matched his own was tucked behind her ear, and a reminder of a time of longing that he’d rather forget. It was difficult to see in just moonlight, but he could definitely tell her cheeks were flushed, especially with all the staring he was doing at her. In all honesty, it felt as if he were studying a painting. A splash of freckles and a few stray zits were scattered across her face, like brush strokes to a canvas.

However, it was her eyes that made him see the true meaning behind the work. People may call Percy dumb, but there was no mistaking the trust Annabeth was pouring into her downturned, storm-cloud eyes. They were focused so forcedly on his own, that he couldn’t help but come back to them each time he attempted to look at the rest of her face. It took him by surprise, because how could she trust someone like him so wholeheartedly? He’d nearly gotten her killed too many times—at some points he had almost been the one to do it.

“How can you do that?” he asked, looking out to the waves crashing on shore and breaking the trance that was Annabeth.

She had been leaning in just slightly, but jerked back just as much once he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Blinking slowly, Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “What d’you mean?”

He sighed almost exasperatedly, but it was too halfhearted to get anywhere. The next set of waves crashed a little harder than before. “I mean, how can you look at me like I’ll never do anything to hurt you? Like I’m not—not about to decide the fate of the world? Not about to destroy everything just by existing? St. Helen wasn’t even me trying, Annabeth. What else am I capable of?”

There was silence. As silent as it could get with a heavily breathing boy on a beach with a girl looking at him with that kind of look so full of something that everything has to be quiet, just for the time being.

“Percy...” Annabeth started, quieter than the now-swirling sea, “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

His eyes found hers again, both of their eyebrows knit together like the sweaters they’d wished they brought. Again, Percy was so aware of her warmth seeping into him, keeping him present. “Why wouldn’t you be?” His soft voice carried itself to span the few inches between them, once more holding the weight of the world in their midst.

For a second, Annabeth looked as though she was going to laugh, but decided against it. At first, it could be brushed off as a ridiculous thought, but she knew what Percy was capable of right now—what about when he grew more fully into his powers? She shook her head, No, not even then.

“Percy.” She said his name more resolutely this time, placing her hand on his shoulder to turn him towards her. “You may have power none of us will ever know, but...you’re you. It’s not like you’re some evil mastermind plotting against us.”

A single, unsaid name hung in the air.

“How do you know, though? You’ve heard the prophecy.” Percy’s eyes were searching her own again, looking for some hint of doubt.

Annabeth sighed sadly, letting go of his shoulder and pulling him into her arms. “Because—‘Cause the Percy I know wouldn’t destroy a world with his mom in it. The Percy I know wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” She took a cold breath, smoothing her hand on his back. “And the Percy I know wouldn’t let some stupid prophecy try to stop him from protecting the people he loves.”

Percy stayed still, frozen, but not from the midnight air. “How do you know I’m that Percy still?” The whisper was slightly muffled from Annabeth’s curly hair, but she’d heard him all the same, as signaled by her hand stopping in the middle of its up and down motion.

“I just know.” And it was said with the finality only a daughter of Athena could possess, could hold within her, and could throw back at someone whenever they questioned her.

It was no use for Percy to fight it anymore, so he finally, finally, finally relaxed into her arms, pulling his own around her. The waves slowed on the beach, taking to being pulled by the moon once again. And, for once, they simply sat there, surrounded by a now-sandy blanket that he’d probably have to wash the next morning and an unrelenting breeze that hardly bothered them. Sure, in two weeks time Percy would most likely be dying at the foot of a crumbled Olympus, but he couldn’t worry about that with the cool sea air filling his lungs and Annabeth’s calloused hand rubbing circles into his back. No, that could wait with the blanket.