#I ASPIRE TO HAVE HIM I LOOK FORWARD TO ACQUIRING HIM ONE DAY

[lunicho]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSN7P72SC/

Hehe hi - 🧚‍♀️

u think ur so fucking funny don't u. DON'T PLAY WITH ME OMG. no bc im fr gonna bite ur ankles like i said in the tags on that one ask like im really about to explode i can't believe u would do this to me like i cant believe u would treat me like this. this ask just jumped me and beat my ass and called me ugly like???? im so normal like all that other shit i just said wasn't real like i was just playing *eye twitch*

[chaostudee]

prologue. the things you do for the ones you love

summary : when you were asked to be your sisters maid of honour you never expected to fall in love with the best man. warnings : nothing ig? words : 1.5k a/n : this is my first series on here and i'm really excited to share it with you guys!!

it was just as you had left it. the blue shutters on the windows registered their bright brilliant hue and the unchanged silk curtains billowed in the soft morning breeze. the same abstract ornament sat on the steps leading to the front door and even now you were uncertain of its name let alone what it represented. your parents still owned the very much identical vehicles to the one you had as a child.

that thought was comforting. that nothing had changed. although when you were brought back to reality of it all everything was going to change. and it was inviteable.

"y/n!" called a voice that you had missed. your sister emily descended the steps with a fast pace that you were in fear of her falling.

"hi" you say letting out an exhale as you speak. emily smiles at your newfound presence in the drive of your childhood home.

there was an awkward moment when both of you were unsure of what to say or do next but then you felt her arms pull you close into an embrace. your arms snaked up her back to the same position where she held hers on your own. taking a deep breath in you notice something, that scent, the identical one that she used to wear all throughout high school.

you could've stayed like that forever but in remembering why you were here you pulled back and dragged her left arm forward to meet your gaze.

it shone and sparkled in the sun and just by that you knew that your future brother in law would be bringing some prosperity into the family.

"i mean....wow. it's gorgeous". emily shies away and pulls back her hand to her own control.

"you think so? i don't know maybe it's a bit flashy but you know a girl can't be picky". she admires the ring for a moment as though she has never seen it until now and this action makes you chuckle. sarcasm was something that emily had acquired from a young age right after she had begun to watch friends. your mother, throughout her teenage years had to witness the endless puns and jokes although after a long day her words were sometimes mood lifting.

"i missed that laugh"emily admits and this makes your heart warm.

"i missed you". and it was true, you had missed her. at first you were reluctant in coming back because your last visit had been over a year ago and even then it wasn't a joyous occasion with your father's degrading comments. your father hadn't always been so supportive when you had informed of your aspiration to study fashion. you guessed that was another reason that your sister desired your presence, or that you hoped.

"so....how's life? well i mean besides getting engaged and all. how is everyone?". emily nods as she takes a look down at her stained converse, whist tucking a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear.

"i mean mum is good. me and daniel have been staying here for the past weeks and yeah i mean she seems to be doing fine but i think she misses dad.".

you don't try to hide your annoyance with this. you noticeably roll your eyes remembering the countless work trips he would take that would leave your mother to her lonesome. those times you would aspire to be on your best behavior because you could see the bags under your mother's eyes from just a few hours spent with her daughters. it hurt you that your father was still pulling the same old stunts.

"he's still working?"you ask because most people at his age would be either sitting in a retirement home or perhaps on the golf course without a care in the world. your father had never been most people.

work had always come first for him. and you couldn't even understand why. maybe someday you would understand but you would never put your occupation before family.

"i ask myself the same question all the time."

"tell me about daniel".

you hadn't heard much about your sister's apparent "love of her life" according to your mother. the way you mum spoke of him made you wonder if it was possible that she loved him more than emily.

"he's great, perfect. i think he would be just your type" emily says with a straight face.

a rush of nostalgia hits you having heard those words countless times when there was a new prospect of a boyfriend. although they never seemed to last, for you anyways. emily always set you up with guys she knew or a friend of a friend and maybe if you had tried you wouldn't be single at 30 but here we are.

"are you seriously setting me up with your fiance?"

"now who said anything about setting you up?" emily gives a tight lipped smile, "just a suggestion".

"yeah but in all seriousness, he is a great guy and i'm lucky to have him". she looks down at her converse once again as she speaks and with her hair covering her face you can't tell whether her cheeks are flushed but you presumed so.

"who knew you were all soppy?".

at this emily raises her head and silently gasps and then remains with her mouth agape as if she was going to answer back.

with a blunt "shut up" she rolled her eyes but you could tell that you were right. you had always been the hopeless romantic but it looked like you had swapped. you now were not too keen on a serious relationship, not anytime soon anyway. in your opinion relationships just added to the weight that you had to carry around everyday, the worries.

"so where is daniel now?".

"him and mum are out shopping. those two are attached to the hip most of the time. weird right?"

"haha yeah weird"

"you'll meet him tonight."

"tonight?"

"yeah...tonight, you know?". jazz hands. "tooonight".

"what's tonight?

"my engagement party"

"oh shit yeah sorry. oh congratulations by the way".

"who knew you were funny?"

"i did"

"c'mon let's go inside i want to show you what i did to your room."

"about tonight....i didn't really bring-"

"i have a dress"

:::

your room was just how you had left it. the same vanity with pictures of your friends from highschool, clothes strewn across the floor and your posters on the walls. it was like you had never left.

you smile as you lift up a picture of you and emily at the beach a few years back. your smiles were wide and you both had your arms around one another. back then you didn't have a care in the world, but now you couldn't say the same.

emily comes bursting into your room with a bundle of dresses in her arms. once she sets them down on the bed she comes over and tuts when she spots the photo in your hand.

"i remember that day, we were so happy, dad had just got promoted and him and mum were over the moon-"

"we had never seen them so happy" you say interrupting her.

grabbing the picture from your grasp emily pulls you from your past.

taking you by the shoulders she says "no getting sad".

you nod giving her a small smile. she gives her own nod of approval before gesturing to the dresses she brought in.

"take your pick".

you raise your eyebrows when you pick up a dress that could hardly count as a dress.

"really?"

"what?! it's all the rage in paris right now".

you poke her in the ribs which makes her squeal.

"girl we gotta get you a man" emily states as she starts looking through the clothes herself.

"and this is the way to do it?".

"sure!".

you scoff but before you begin to throw another comment you spot something that catches your eye. the material is sparkly and glittery just like a disco ball.

"this one" you confirm.

emily turns around and gasps when she sees what you have chosen.

"perfect, who knew you had taste y/n?".

"um clearly not you"

"haha. anyways back to the boy thing".

you groan at the subject. dating had been a tough subject for you as of late. it had been less than a year since you had broken off with your toxic ex. you still held trauma from him and your sister knew this but she took this as a reason to get out more.

"i bet soms of daniels friends are single" she says, pondering as she tries to recall.

"oh actually he said that one of his friends was recently divorced.....".

"ems im not going to date a 40 year old".

she laughs at my comment. like really laughs.

"he's our age silly".

"oh".

"daniel says he hasn't been with anyone since the breakup.....just like you".

"your point?"

"you'd be a good match".

"ugh whatever."

there's a silence.

"wait what's his name?"

"oh um bu- barnes or something i dont know?".

your eyes widen. it couldn't be could it? your eyes falter to one of the pictures on the wall. you in the middle beside you neil, marrissa and....james. james barnes.

[townsenddecades]

1315 – Day 2 – Praaven Castle

Praaven Castle and its inhabitants aren’t exempt from uneasiness about the lack of food stores. As the most powerful landowners in the area, the Dudley family at least can acquire food for themselves and their retainers from the local peasantry, but eating it leaves a bitter taste in Robert’s mouth. He may have spent half his life in the castle, but he remembers his childhood on the farm. Some poor family of farmers is starving so they can eat. It isn’t just.

He is fourteen now and has recently ended his page position to instead serve as squire to Sir Silas. If he does good, he could be a knight in a few more years’ time. And Robert intends to do good. He may not have wanted this life when he was sent to be Sir Silas’ page at age 7, but after spending most of the last decade in his half-brother’s household, a knighthood is all he aspires to.

But his ambitions aren’t the only thing that drives him to train with the bow and arrow that afternoon, or even the distraction from moral questions the exercise affords him. No, he does it purely to prepare himself for trouble. Banditry has risen ever since food has grown scarce, and there may come a time when the Earl will be forced to act against it. Roberts intends to be ready.

He is so intent on his target, at first, that he doesn’t notice that he is being watched. People are constantly milling about the courtyard, so he mostly ignores them. One young woman, however, watches him intently, and moves closer when she realizes that he has caught her looking.

His breath catches in his throat. By the fineness of her clothing, he can tell that she is of high birth, but she is also one of the most stunning women he has ever laid eyes upon. Her dark dress sharply contrasts unusual greyish-blond hair, and her eyes are the clearest sky-blue he has seen in his life. She has a very sweet face too, gentle as a doe’s eyes.

He lowers his weapon and makes a bow. He doesn’t know who she is, but he has spent too much time in a noble household not to recognize someone of higher standing when he sees them.

“Oh please, don’t stop because of me”, she says, in a voice sweet as honey. “I was quite enjoying your display.”

“I am glad to have been of assistance”, he says. “And sorry that I have curtailed your entertainment so.”

“Well”, she says with a slight smile. “You could always set that to rights by resuming your archery. Now that I’m standing closer, I’d have quite the opportunity to enjoy the view from another angle.”

There is an amused look in her eyes, but he is unsure how to take her words. She cannot be flirting with him, or at least he doesn’t think she can. Highborn ladies are born and pred to be quiet and modest, not whatever this girl is doing. Maybe she thinks it’s harmless fun, and he has to admit that he is flattered that her attention is directed towards him.

Still, he knows what Sir Silas would say if he were to reciprocate the flirtation.

“I don’t believe we have been introduced”, he says, taking a discreet step back. “My name is Robert Townsend. I serve as squire to Sir Silas Ellesmere.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Robert Townsend. I’m Katheryn Deane.”

He had heard that name before, but could not place where, so he simply bowed his acknowledgement. “Are you a guest of Lord Petersmarch, Mistress Deane?”

“Of the countess, rather. Lady Petersmarch is a distant relative of mine.”

He had been right that she was of noble birth, then. Not that it had been hard to guess.

“I hope your time here has been enjoyable so far”, he said, fishing for a topic of conversation. She merely smiles.

“Quite. Although I might have come here earlier had I known what company awaited me. And here I thought all I had to look forward to was painting with my cousin.”

“You paint?”, he asks, despite himself. “Lady Petersmarch has graciously been teaching me.”

“Oh, so you’re her protégé. I might have known. Yes, I paint, but with much less skill than enthusiasm. You will have to show me some of your work sometime.”

“If it please you, my lady. Maybe, if you’d permit me, I would be honoured to have you for my muse sometime.” He looks at her silver-blond hair, coloured as if touched by moonlight, at the clearness of her complexion and the sweetness of her features. “I think any man would be glad to get to paint you.”

“Why, Master Townsend, I almost believe that was a compliment. One I’ll gladly take, of course.” She steps closer. “And it would mean that we could spend more time together. I’m curious to hear how you got to be a squire to the captain of the guard.”

He is saved from having to disclose his family connections by a timely call of “Kate! There you are!”

The countess is striding through the courtyard, her face brightening when she spots Robert. “Ah, and I see you’ve already met young Robert here. I hope you have accorded Lady Katheryn every courtesy, Robert?”

He can’t help but stare at his new acquaintance for a moment. He had known that she was highborn, but if she is a Lady, that means that her father has to be at least an earl.

Katheryn, however, does not hesitate for a second. “Of course he has. As if any protégé of yours could do any less, cousin.”

“Regardless, I was looking for you, and I am sure Robert needs to finish his archery practice.”

“It is really no bother, Lady Petersmarch.”

“Regardless.” She smiles. “Lady Katheryn is staying for a while, so you will have time to get acquainted. For now, however…” She motions for her cousin to walk towards the portals of the castle, and together, the two ladies disappear inside.

Not, however, before Lady Katheryn throws him a last look over her shoulder, smiling all the while.

Prev: 1315, Day 1 <--> Next: 1315, Day 2, Part 2/3

[rogeliodavid]

Music, Theory, and Production

My interest in music has been pretty life-long although I can remember the first time I was impacted by a song on a personal level. I was a tween messing with the radio as my mom drove me home from school, when all of a sudden the station coalesced the song I’m Blue by Eiffel 65.

What a Bop! Kids Bop! The melody was so melancholically catchy and the chorus was enthralling!

Anyways, that moment foretold my future foray into music exploration.

The next notable chapter of this journey took place in High School. After some friends tipped me off to the home-grown discovery of House Music, I wanted more. I took to the inter-webs to trawl the main source of new music those days: music blogs and music aggregators: aka Hype Machine.

I would spend hours down the rabbit hole of searching for the latest banger. It’s how I spent my free time after school. And as an aspiring DJ it made perfect sense. 

Which leads me to my next chapter of my Musical Journey: Acquiring DJ equipment and learning to do the ting. All the tracks I acquired could finally be put to use! DJ’ing became the next way I spent all of my free time. It’s what transformed me from a two-left feet type of a dancer to a rhythm-keeping, foot-bouncing natural. This DJ chapter lasted a while, but eventually it would have to shift.

Slowly but surely, I started making a beeline to the source: Music Production itself. After some false starts and fits and go’s, I finally make a whole complete track in one sitting in major part thanks to my Music Mentor/Teacher: Enoch. 

The song started by learning how to download sound packs on reddit and we progressed to choosing one. Inspired, I selected a sample right away and thankfully the boys in the session with me, Enoch and Tadashi bopped along with it. So we started layering drum bits, FX, and finally, a baseline. That moment was also my introduction to harnessing a live instrument to write down a music element in a DAW. 

Sometime in the session, our boy Tadashi was feeling out of it so he decided to go on a walk. As Enoch and I were finishing the track, lo and behold, I noticed that the song we made happened to sound like the perfect soundtrack to somebody feeling some type of way and going on a walk. It was decided: The track would be called: Tadashi went on a Walk.

It was a bop! I uploaded it on my music platforms and legit had it playing on repeat. The magic of this track was that it was catchy and didn’t feel like it ever played itself out. I was brimming with joy as I uploaded it on socials to share and realized that I finally had my first foray into music production, what had seemed like a long-held dream.

I was buzzing from social hyper-interaction off of sharing my very first track. People liked it! My friend Jason said that it reminded him of Japanese City Pop. Personally, I labeled it #lofi and called it a day. However, it felt satisfying finally meeting my peer’s social expectations of my musical ability. My DJ days planted that seed in their minds, and this fateful day finally brought that seed to fruition in the form of a song.

Looking forward, my latest chapter in my Music Saga intends to build myself up right: focusing on learning a handful of instruments while teaching myself music theory, as continue trying my hand at music production with DAW’s. The challenges I foresee include: being consistent, being consistent, being consistent, and learning to learn DAW’s without the benefit of a personal one-on-one tutor. I told myself that during my coding bootcamp busy-ness I would hold off on learning the DAW until I could hire another personal 1-on-1 tutor, however now I feel as though it would be better if I could teach myself intermediary skills that will make those future apprenticeship sessions much more productive and focused.

The aforementioned skills might include music theory and rudimentary instrument playing, as well as making the basic templates of my go-to music genres inside of the DAW…

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Court of Faded Dreams: Chapter 20

Chapter Title: Desiderium

Fic summary: In her grief after Rhys sacrifices himself to restore the Cauldron, Feyre accidentally sends herself back in time. Back in her human body, in her early days in the Spring Court, Feyre must be careful how she alters the timeline as she tries to save Rhys and Prythian from Under the Mountain.

Read on AO3 ⟡ Masterlist

The rising tensions seemed to ebb in the wake of the second trial. With Feyre and Rhysand’s survival, Amarantha’s suspicions were mostly quelled. Rhys seemed assured that he’d re-acquired her trust, but he also hadn’t had a moment to visit Feyre’s cell since that night. Their private moments were scarce, practically nonexistent.

Feyre spent most of her days longing for her mate’s company, worrying over what was occupying him, sending him mental affirmation that she loved him and was proud of him. She tried to distract herself with the charcoal he’d left for her as a gift, etching her mind’s eye into the cell floors and walls.

But the true torture lay with each evening in her mate’s lap, where every careful brush against his body sent white hot fire through her veins. And all she could do was feign an intoxicated smile, pretending she was wholly under the influence of fae wine while they indulged in this small fraction of each other’s company. On the inside, she was burning, scorched by desire tinged with an ache of longing that only bubbled and bubbled each night.

It didn’t help that she felt continually spurred on by those wandering violet eyes, and the velvet, flirtatious remarks he made under the guise of the Lord of Nightmares.

For all his verbal promises, Rhys managed to remain frustratingly chaste. To Feyre’s utter vexation, his hands never once strayed from their spot at her hips.

One evening, Feyre collapsed onto his lap in defeat, her breath heavy from the dancing.

Given up trying to seduce me, Feyre darling? Rhys teased in an irritatingly satisfied voice, referencing her vow to break his careful control all those weeks ago. With the way he traced predatory circles into the bare skin at her hips, she certainly felt tempted to revisit that aspiration.

Feyre leaned her head back against his shoulder. I’ll crack you eventually, she promised. But it’s certainly difficult to deploy my full arsenal with so many prying eyes.

So long as it poses a danger to you, I dont think it’s possible for me to lose myself to those more primal urges, Rhys admitted. He leaned forward and skimmed his nose against her neck. Feyre stiffened. Of course, this court thinks me debaucherous. But Tamlin’s lover surely shouldn’t look so willing to be ravished by the High Lord of the Night Court.

So you’re saying it’s futile to tempt you into depravity with an audience?

Rhys chuckled. A rich, dark sound that reverberated through Feyre’s bones, sending her every nerve skittering. I’ll admit you’re extremely tempting, especially when you’re sitting in my lap like an eager little present. It’s been an awfully delightful form of torture. But, believe it or not, your safety takes priority over my own sexual gratification.

Feyre shifted teasingly in his lap, disguising the movement as a bashful shrug away from his touch. And what about my sexual gratification, mate?

She couldn’t see Rhys, but she could almost feel him grinning at her back—a High Lord pleased from effectively teasing his pet. I’ve already told you, Feyre. I’m happy to show you how to use those nimble little fingers of yours. But if I wind you up too much here, every male in this room will be able to smell your arousal.

Noted, Ferye said primly, moving out of Rhys’s lap. He did indeed have a wicked grin on his face as she turned to face him.

“Are you going to dance for me again, love?” he purred.

⟡⟡⟡

Usually by the time Feyre was brought back to her cell, she was so exhausted from the endless dancing that she fell asleep as soon as she settled on her hay pallet. But her conversation with Rhys was still ringing in her head, and she wanted to explore one last idea.

Rhys? She called. Are you still awake?

There was no response for a long time. It occurred to Feyre that he might be preoccupied. Rhysand rarely spoke about the time he spent with Amarantha, certainly never in any amount of detail—but he did always look quite tired. Perhaps he spent his nights after the infernal parties servicing Amarantha in her bed. His bedroom had looked as if he barely used it, but she could still smell him on the sheets. Perhaps he came back to his chambers in the morning to properly rest—like he’d come on the day she’d been thrown into his room. If he truly spent his entire night partying and then serving Amarantha… Gods, no wonder he always looked so worn out.

Sharp tendrils of guilt clawed at Feyre as she thought about what she’d been about to ask him. She bundled into her blanket, happy to accept that he was asleep or… or otherwise occupied. She felt restless, thinking about where her mate might be, but finally started to doze off after several minutes of quiet.

Feyre? He asked, suddenly. Is everything okay?

Yeah, she said sleepily. Everything’s fine.

Was there something you needed?

She didn’t want to admit what she’d wanted from him. I was going to ask you something but I thought better of it.

He was silent for a long moment. ...what were you going to ask me?

Feyre laughed in her mind. I told you I thought better of it.

There’s nothing you can’t ask me, Feyre, was his immediate response. And damn him, he was just too doting.

Why are Cassian and Azriel’s siphons different colors? She blurted, because it was the first idiotic question that came to her mind. She knew he wouldn’t let it go if she didn’t ask something.

“They picked those colors,” Rhysand answered, nearly causing Feyre to leap out of her bed in surprise. He’d winnowed into the darkness on the other side of the cell, where he now stood with his arms crossed. “I think Cass was partial to red because he thought the magic looked like flames. I don’t know why Az chose blue, but I do think it suits him.”

Feyre’s heart was still pounding from being startled. She put a hand to her chest in an attempt to steady it as she said, “You didn’t need to come here to tell me that.”

“I came here to see what was really bothering you,” Rhys explained. Feyre could hardly make him out through the darknesses. She had no way of telling what state he was in, but his voice at least sounded steady.

“Nothing’s bothering me, Rhys,” she insisted. “Really.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Come here,” he said finally.

Feyre scrambled out of her blanket and strode over to him. Up close, she could see that he was in the same dark tunic he’d worn to the party. It was rumpled slightly, but Feyre didn’t let herself consider why. He did look tired, but there was a small smile blooming on his face.

“You were going to take me up on my offer.” It wasn’t a question. She didn’t know if he saw it in her mind or simply put it together, but her face flushed all the same. Rhys tutted. “There’s no need to be coy, Feyre darling. Here,” he offered her his hand. Curious, Feyre accepted it. Before she realized what was happening, they had winnowed into Rhysand’s bedchamber.

The bed was still neatly made, Feyre noted with an ounce of dread. Wherever he’d been before coming to her cell, she didn’t think it was here.

Feyre turned to face him, and Rhys was staring at her through hooded eyes. “You look tired,” she said gently. “It’s late. Why don’t we go to bed?”

The last thing she wanted was to be another female for him to service—

Rhys gripped her chin firmly. “Listen to me, Feyre. You will never be a burden to me.” He offered her a sweet, gentle kiss. “And this? This I am going to thoroughly enjoy. Now get on the bed.” The command in his voice was enough to send Feyre’s heart aflutter. She bit her lip, glancing over to the bed hesitantly. She was still covered in paint—“Now,” he prompted, with enough force that Feyre stifled a nervous giggle and promptly obeyed.

Rhys slid his hands into his pockets and followed her to the bed. He leaned against the bedpost and watched while she climbed atop his sheets.

“Good,” he murmured approvingly. “Now, lay back on those nice pillows and close your eyes.” Feyre’s heart stuttered furiously as she relaxed atop the silk blankets and shut her eyes.

Now touch yourself for me, he purred in that deep, lover’s voice. Smooth, seductive. It felt indulgent to even listen to it, to feel it caress her mind like a stolen kiss.

Slowly, bashfully, Feyre let her tattooed hand snake down her body, trailing along the sheer gossamer she still wore from the party. Her eyes were shut, but she could feel Rhys tracking her every movement as her fingers trailed over the swell of her breasts, following the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip. Her fingers traveled across her thigh until they reached the straight piece of gossamer pooling between her legs.

She could hear her pulse pounding in her ear as she brushed the fabric aside, essentially baring herself to Rhys. Feyre’s breath hitched as she let her fingers ghost against her clit.

That’s it, Feyre. Show your mate how you like to be touched.

Feeling emboldened by the husky strain to his voice, Feyre started dancing her fingers in slow, decadent circles. Then suddenly, Rhys was above her, and it was his fingers sliding against her.

Feyre’s eyes flew open. Rhys was still leaning against the bedpost, hands in his pockets. His eyes were darkened with desire, but the corners of his mouth were curved in amusement. Close your eyes, he murmured.

When Feyre shut her eyes again, Rhys was hovering over her once more, his fingers stroking her in a mirror of Feyre’s own ministrations.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and Feyre couldn’t decipher whether he said it in her head or out loud. She let the words wash over her regardless and succumbed to his vision. The world tumbled away until there was just his starry-eyed, lust-addled gaze, sweeping over her ravenously. She wondered if she truly was in danger of being eaten, like the golden-haired women from his fairytale.

Rhys traced voracious kisses along her collar bone, up her neck. Feyre swore she could feel their phantom-touch against her skin, enough to make her breath hitch as she felt that ghost’s touch prickle through her nerves.

There was something about being almost touched like this that made her feel more on edge, her nerves frayed and scrambled as they searched for where Rhys’s touch should be. It drove her wild with a longing so stark it physically ached. Even the cool kiss of air felt teasing against her skin.

Against her ear, Rhys chuckled, and her mind whirled at the fact that it somehow sounded from both the bedpost and as if he’d breathed it against her very neck. She nearly whimpered from the frustration of it, feeling much too like a string pulled taut.

“Touch your breasts for me, Feyre,” he breathed roughly, and this time she could tell it came from the bedpost, for the Rhys behind her eyes did not move his lips.

His fingers—her fingers—were still moving in slow, deliberate circles against her clit. One particularly hard sweep sent her hips bucking and Rhys let out a deep, guttural sound of approval. Her other hand pulled the thin fabric away, revealing her already hardened nipples to the cool air of Rhysand’s bedchamber. As she palmed her breast and squeezed, in her mind’s eye it was Rhys who now fondled her. She gasped as he rolled his thumb against the sensitive bud. His smile turned devilish when she whimpered from a particularly hard pinch.

“Gods, you make the most delicious sounds, Feyre,” he crooned. “Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

More, more, more, she thought desperately, and his fingers at her clit dipped down, sliding against the slickness between her folds.

“So wet for me,” he said breathlessly. “Are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

Feyre nodded emphatically. She moaned as two fingers plunged inside her and she bucked her hips against the sensation. “Please,” she gasped.

Rhys pressed her nipple between two fingers and grinned savagedly. “Please, what, Feyre darling? What do you want?”

“You,” she panted, howling in pleasure as his fingers clamped down, hard. Feyre spread her legs wider as she writhed against the fingers that were sending her head into a spin.

“Fuck, Feyre,” Rhys swore headily. His violet eyes were burning and Feyre wanted so badly to capture his lips, to bury her face into his neck and inhale that citrus and sea scent. She felt the craving intensely enough that she was certain she would crack in half from the pressure of it. Or maybe she was feeling the pressure of her building pleasure from those delicious fingers that were moving with renewed fervor.

Her mind was still stuttering, still trying to grasp how she could simultaneously feel so consumed by Rhys while feeling so torturously empty, yearning.

“You’re so perfect,” he was gasping against her skin while he pressed kisses against her chest, his free hand still stroking her breast with intoxicating ardour. Feyre arched her back, trying to press herself into his lips just to convince herself she could truly feel his touch. She nearly sobbed when her chest met cold air—it was truly the most delicious form of torment. Rhys sat up and grinned, as if amused by how desperately Feyre sought him, how thoroughly he was teasing her. “Focus here, Feyre,” he purred, and his eyes darted to where his fingers pumped wickedly at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre’s senses narrowed in on those indulgent fingers and a moan escaped her as Rhys’s thumb brushed against her clit. She felt those frayed nerves in her body crescendo, building in a wave that she was certain would drown her. Her only source of buoyancy was those passionate violet eyes that were burning into her, scorching a trail along her skin until they met her own desire-hazed stare.

“Rhys,” she gasped, the word mostly a plea to help her keep her head above this aching desire that threatened to burn her whole.

“That’s it, Feyre,” he murmured encouragingly, and the awe and reverence on his face almost undid her completely. “Come for me. Come for your mate.”

She screamed his name as red-hot ecstasy tore through her, whimpering against the sensation of those fingers continuously stroking against her. She was distantly aware of Rhys groaning her name while she shattered, her consciousness glittering into a million fractals that could have melded into the night sky, lost forever, if it weren’t for those steady violet eyes drawing her back.

Feyre gasped as her eyes shot open. She shuddered against the strange sensation of coming back into herself, as if her body hadn’t fully been hers while she’d been mesmerised by those striking eyes. She was slowly becoming aware of her body again, blinking against the dimness of the bedroom.

She was panting as her eyes met Rhysand’s—the real Rhys—from where he leaned against the bedpost. His hands were still shoved in his pockets, but not in their usual, casual demeanor. No, his shoulders were drawn tensely and his chest heaved. She wondered if he’d kept his hands there as a form of restraint, as if he didn’t trust what he’d do if he left them free. He looked… unhinged. The most unhinged she’d seen him yet in their time Under the Mountain. And her eyes found the crotch of his trousers, where his erection strained against the fabric. His jaw was clenched and his eyes… his beautiful, violet eyes were fixed on where her legs spread, bared to him, her fingers still plunged deep inside herself. There was a primal, predatory desire in his gaze.

A slow, feline grin spread across Feyre’s face as she slipped her fingers out from between her legs. Rhys tracked every movement with ravenous intent as Feyre brought her fingers to her lips.

He was there instantly, catching at her wrist with a feral growl before she could open her mouth. Their eyes met as he guided her fingers to his face. Feyre couldn’t breath as he parted his lips and sucked on them, his eyes shutting as he reveled in the taste of her.

Any smug remarks about cracking his self control died on her tongue as his eyes snapped open, any lingering hunger lost to panic as he stumbled away, dropping her hand as if it’d burnt him. He swore frantically under his breath, almost tripping on his own feet in his hurry to get away from her. At the other side of the room, he began pacing furiously.

Feyre held her breath as she sat up on the bed. She had a fairly decent guess as to what had just happened, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Couldn’t dare voice it.

“You need to go,” he said tightly.

Feyre adjusted her dress before climbing out of his bed. “Rhys—” she paused as she took him in. If she thought he’d looked unhinged before, now... now he looked broken. His face was crumpled with some strange mixture of panic and sorrow and… shame. She couldn’t see it, exactly, but she could feel it. Stronger, now, than it had been before with the bargain.

Rhys buried his face into his hands. “The bond just snapped, Feyre,” he whispered. He’d stopped pacing, now, and just collapsed onto his knees on the floor.

Tentatively, Feyre came over to him. She couldn’t imagine how he was feeling—the instincts that were probably flooding into him paired with the rising distress and panic.

“Fuck, I can’t even think with you here, Feyre,” he groaned. “All I can smell is your arousal flooding through every one of my damn senses.”

“It will be okay, Rhys,” she soothed, trying to reach for him.

He jerked away from her touch, eyes frantic. “How?” he demanded. “She will kill you when she smells our bond, Feyre.”

“She can’t kill me with the bargain,” Feyre said, trying not to feel hurt from the rejection. Everything was probably very overwhelming for him, his body needed to adjust to the intensity of the bond. She hadn’t seen Rhys for three months after the bond originally snapped, she had no idea what these raw moments immediately after had been like for him.

“She’ll change the third trial,” he rasped, “something horrible and gruesome you couldn’t possibly survive. Whatever game she’s playing with Tamlin would be wholly different to the one she’d play with me, with my mate.”

The dense timbre of his voice when on the word caused something primal in her to shiver in recognition. Before he’d always whispered it, like it was something he could hardly believe he was saying. Now, there was a fierce protectiveness laced into the word, as if his instincts were riding him as he spoke.

“Hey, hey,” Feyre snapped, sensing his spiraling dread. She grabbed at his hand desperately. She remembered what he once said to her. Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. And she knew that whatever hope he'd been scraping together for the last 50 years was crumbling in front of her. “Then we don’t let her see us together until the third trial. No more parties, say you’ve grown tired of playing with me—” he hissed at the implication in her words—“and if we’re lucky, we can coast through the third trial before she notices. We’ll stay as far away from each other as possible.”

“If we’re lucky,” Rhys said bleakly. “And if we’re not—”

“I’ll say the answer to the riddle,” Feyre said. They hadn’t talked about it since Rhys had figured out her plan in the throne room���Feyre had assumed he’d made his peace with it. “We’ll abandon my stupid plan to let her kill me and I’ll say the answer to the riddle before she can do anything else. We’ll be okay, Rhys.”

He searched her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt. She tried to be that lighthouse in his dark again, a beacon of certainty and hope and love. Suddenly he was pulling her into his lap, crushing her fiercely against his chest.

“My mate,” he rasped, burying his face into her hair. “My mate, my mate, my mate—mine.”

From what she'd been described about the mating bond for males, she wondered if that was the only thought consuming him—what he’d been struggling to push away to address the panic and now felt free to acknowledge. No wonder he’d looked so agitated, to have such intense warring emotions fighting for control.

“I’m yours, Rhys,” she assured him, pressing her face into his chest to revel in the feel and smell of him. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

He snarled as if to say damn right and she giggled into his skin.

“It’s late,” he said into her hair, where he pressed another tender kiss. “Spend the night here. I’ll take you back to your cell in the morning.” He swallowed thickly. “And then… I’ll leave you alone, until your third trial.” He made it sound as if it’d be painful to put that kind of physical distance between them, and Ferye believed it probably would be.

Rhysand bundled her in his arms as he rose to his feet and carried her to the bed. They climbed in together, Rhys never once letting go of her as he tucked her solidly against his chest, the warmth of his torso pressing into her mostly exposed back. Their legs tangled together as his arms secured themselves firmly across her chest and stomach. He tucked his face against her neck and hair and inhaled deeply. Feyre shivered as she felt the tickle of his warm breath.

“A thought for a thought, Rhys?” she murmured softly.

I’m thinking about how I’m so fucking terrified of losing you, he whispered brokenly. It was such a raw, brutally vulnerable part of himself to offer up that Feyre couldn’t speak. I’m worried that you’re so unfathomably perfect that the Cauldron couldn’t have possibly given you to me without some twisted plan to take you away. Then it will laugh in my face for ever deluding myself into thinking I could be happy with you, be worthy of having you.

It was similar enough to the other conversations they’d had about his doubts, but the fear and pain in his voice was more visceral than she’d ever heard it. Her heart shattered. Rhys—

I’m thinking that if this is the only time I’ll ever be able to hold you—to fall asleep and wake up with you—then it will have been worth it. If I have to suffer for all of eternity just to be able to hold you this one time, it’s a price I’d pay over and over again.

I’m thinking that for the first time in several months I don’t know what the future holds, Feyre said. But that I believe with every fiber of my being that we will make it out of this. And that once we do, I will show you how wrong you are. That we can be happy together. Forever will never feel like enough time to hold you, to show you how deep and endless my love for you is. But if we don’t have forever—if all we have are these small, precious, stolen moments, then that would be enough for me. I would be grateful for these extra moments I’ve bought with you.

I will follow you, Rhys promised with a kiss against her neck. To whatever end waits for us. Whatever future.

Feyre felt tears prick her eyes as she nodded. And I’ll follow you, Rhys. Through any world, towards any future.

Taglist: @cretaceous-therapod @feybaenc @uniquelyboringmusings @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @rhysandswingspan

[vannahfanfics]

Heavenly Bodies

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima

Additional Tags: Quirkless AU

Howdy, everyone! Today I have my story for the @ashidobigbang! I had the privilege of working with the wonderful @mallowfac​, so be sure to go give her beautiful art some love!

The picturesque campus of U.A. High School was always abuzz with activity, even after the final bells rang to mark the end of the school day. As expected of the number-one high school in the district, the institution hosted a vast number of after-school sports and clubs, so much that it was almost unheard of for a student to be uninvolved in anything. Thus, even as the sun had sunk low across the sky, the halls were still packed with many students fervently discussing events and fundraising and planning, walking to and from their classrooms. 

The exterior of the school was no exception; one would be hard pressed to find an empty sidewalk or field—except for today, when the American football team would be taking on the baseball team in an impromptu flag football game to determine once and for all the title of best sport. The halls and sidewalks and fields were abandoned, for the entire student body had crammed themselves within the confines of the spacious practice field nestled in the back corner of the campus. The baseball team had asserted that football was so easy that even they could do it, and the school had become divided on whether or not that was true. 

“Kick their asses, Eijirou!” a particularly loud fan crowed from the top of the bleachers. He was standing tall, hands cupped around his mouth and stamping his feet as he cheered for the school’s idol and star quarterback. The bleachers sang with chants and stomps, trying desperately to smother the boos drifting from the opposite end of the field, where the baseball team’s supporters sat. Eijirou Kirishima, his grin blinding and his red hair gleaming in the spring sun, laughed nervously as praise was rained down upon him. 

As Mina zeroed in on him in the lens of her binoculars, she knew she’d found her latest victim— er, recruit. 

Mina Ashido was the president—and only member—of U.A.’s astronomy club. Well, it wasn’t technically a club yet since they needed two members for the administration to approve the application. An avid admirer of all things cosmological and an aspiring astronomer, Mina refused to allow her pride and joy to collapse before it had even begun. Thus, for the last few months, she’d been concocting hare-brained scheme after hare-brained scheme to recruit at least one more member and officially christen the U.A. Guild of Astronomers and Astrophysicists. All of her efforts, unfortunately, had crashed and burned brighter than a supernova. 

At first, she’d just camped out in the hallways and leisure areas pitching her case and attempting to garner interest in the subject, but she’d been met with polite refusals or awkward avoidance. With so many extracurriculars available, sometimes drastic measures had to be taken to garner interest in a club— the Shakespearean drama club, for example, had performed Macbeth completely backwards in the courtyard, and their numbers had swelled immediately. Mina had cooked up a dramatic scheme of her own, which involved her running around the school screaming about a falling star and the end times. After inciting a mass school panic that led to a lockdown and police involvement, all Mina had managed to acquire was a fierce scolding, detention, and the label as a kook—not even one person expressed interest in joining her club even for the shits and giggles! No, it was clear that the inner workings of her mind were too sophisticated for humble high school students and staff, so she would have to try a more nuanced approach—manipulating the most vital high school variable: popularity. 

Her first target had been gorgeous cheerleader and school sweetheart, Momo Yaoyorozu. Despite the stereotype that popular girls were great big bitches, Momo had been nothing but polite when refusing Mina, since her rigorous practice schedule would unfortunately not allow her to devote the time to the club it deserved (but they did regularly meet up for Sunday tea now!). The next one to fall into her crosshairs was the school heartthrob Shoto Todoroki. He’d entertained her for an afternoon, but he destroyed one of her very expensive telescopes while attempting a night viewing and she’d politely informed him that perhaps he wasn’t cut out for it. He didn’t seem too sad about it, though he did occasionally ask her how the recruiting was going when they met in the halls. Very sweet guy, but bless him, he was an airhead. 

Thus, Mina had moved on to her next opportunity—the pride and joy of U.A.’s sports program, star American football player Eijirou Kirishima. Incredibly handsome, charismatic, and kind-hearted, Eijirou was beloved by everyone at U.A. If Mina managed to recruit him to her humble club, half the student body would be clamoring to join before it was printed in the school news the next day. 

She snickered to herself as she watched him through her binoculars, hiding in the thick, leafy bushes lining the backside of the sports complex. Her cotton candy-colored hair blended well with the hydrangeas blooming amidst the emerald leaves, camouflaging her as she conducted her vital research. The redhead strode across the field with confidence, yet his sunny smile made him seem anything but arrogant. Though she couldn’t hear him, she could see his lips moving as he relayed orders to his team while they set up the play. The players seamlessly fell into an offensive stance, a testament to the faith they held in their captain—and how seriously he took their practice and performance. 

A deep and bassy “huuuuup!” resounded through the field, and then the player hiked the ball. With a speed much at odds with his muscular frame, Eijirou took off down the field. Mina admittedly salivated a little as she watched his muscles ripple, his gray muscle tank displaying his biceps and triceps in mouthwatering detail. She could see the sweat shining on his skin and flicking from his hair as he whipped his head around to eye the ball that was sailing through the air toward him. The baseball team’s defense could only watch in awe as Eijirou leaped into the air over the endzone. The ball landed in his arms like it belonged there, his grip smug and sure as he landed in the touchdown zone. The supporting crowd erupted into deafening cheers, while Eijirou just smiled bashfully and gave a little wave. 

Mina lowered her binoculars to compose herself, a blush dusting her cheeks. So effortless… And the crowd loves it! she thought in awe. No matter what, I have to get him to join the Astronomy Club! She snapped the binoculars back to her eyes, watching intensely. She really didn’t need to watch the entire game, but… damn, that was a mouthwatering piece of man. She had to find some way to entertain herself while she waited for the game to end and her chance to corner him to finally present itself. 

Needless to say, the football team absolutely demolished the baseball team. The rival players marched back to their diamond in defeat along with their gaggle of supporters, while the crowd flooded the practice field to heft a very bemused but giddy Eijirou on their shoulders with chants of his name. They dunked the container of water over his head as soon as his feet touched the grass again, making him laugh jovially. Mina’s heart fluttered at the sound; his laugh was as sunny as the rest of him, so bright she almost felt the need to close her eyes. He was just blinding, like the most intense star. 

And just like with a star, Mina gravitated toward him. 

Eventually, the raucous crowd dispersed and the football team started heading to the locker rooms to change out of their sweaty gym gear. They came tromping onto the sidewalk, with Eijirou trailing in the rear dripping wet and trying to wring water out of his tank. Mina almost forgot to spring out of the bushes, too occupied with the planes of his abs being revealed each time he wrung the fabric. She remembered her mission just as he passed the hydrangea bush, and leaped out in front of him with a delighted trill. 

“That was a wonderful game, Eijirou!” she squealed, throwing her arms up and hiking up one leg behind her in a cute little flourish. The redhead jumped back with a small gasp, startled by her sudden appearance and the leaves and hydrangea petals clinging to her clothes and the soft fibers of her pink hair. Once he recovered, however, he gave her a charming smile that nearly had her melting into a pile of space slush. 

“Oh! Thanks. Hey, you’re, uh—” he snapped his fingers quickly as he struggled to recall her, then pointed his fingers at her in a gun-like shape once it clicked, “Mina Ashido! You have homeroom with Tsuyu from the Amphibian Care club. She talks about you when she helps run the concession stand sometimes!” 

“That’s right! The one and only!” she chirped, trying to suppress the surge of anger at the fact that Tsuyu could recruit for her club about pet frogs and turtles but Mina couldn’t get one single underling. Not to worry; that will all change soon! 

“This might be an odd question, but, uh… is there a reason you were hiding in the bushes?” he laughed awkwardly. Mina blushed when he leaned forward to gently brush the leaves and petals from her shoulders and hair, which made her short-circuit for a second. It was only when he looked at her inquisitively that her brain jump-started again. 

“O-oh! I thought it would be fun to surprise you! Yanno, like in the movies where someone jumps out of a big ol’ birthday cake!” It was a bold-faced lie, but it wasn’t like she could tell him she was spying on him through binoculars while she schemed to reel him into her club. Trying to keep him from thinking too hard about it, she placed her hands on her hips and straightened up. “I watched your practice match with the baseball team and have decided that you’ll be a perfect fit for the Astronomy Club! So please join. <3” 

Eijirou blinked owlishly at her, his bright red eyes swimming with confusion. He smiled bashfully, clearly trying not to let his utter perplexity show on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. 

“Well, um, I’m really not sure how you made that connection watching me play…” 

“The inner workings of a woman’s mind are quite an enigma~” she hummed with a waggle of her finger. Eijirou only scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and jumped when she slapped her hand down on his shoulder. “Seriously! You seem like a great fit! Please consider at least trying it out for a little while?” She batted her eyelashes demurely; if nothing else, her womanly charms could entice the burly football player to at least humor her for a while. 

Sure enough, a pink blush dusted across his cheeks and a bashful smile curled onto his lips. 

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt checking it out… Stars are cool…” 

“Fabulous!” she squealed, making Eijirou flinch again as she clapped her hands together and jumped up and down in elation. Even if Eijirou didn’t join permanently, just the rumor of his interest in her humble little club was liable to attract attention. “I know that you’re busy with football practice, so we’ll schedule club meetings on Friday afternoons when you don’t have them, okay?” 

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to inconvenience any—” 

“Great! So it’s settled then! I’ll see you on Friday afternoon in Room 310!” With that, she jumped back into her bush, leaving Eijirou staring at the quivering leaves in confusion. Through the gaps in the branches, she saw him open and close his mouth like he wanted to say something, look around and then up at the sky with a pensive look, and then smile with a shrug of his shoulders. Mina clutched her binoculars to her chest as a smile bloomed on her own lips, but one of satisfaction. Surely this will work! The Astronomy Club will be booming in no time! She thought with a giddy snicker. 

If nothing else, she could look at Eijirou’s absolutely dreamy body and face for a few club meetings and drive his fangirls nuts. 

At the end of the week, Mina paced impatiently in front of Room 310, chewing her fingernails to nubs as her eyes darted back and forth around the hall. It had only been a few minutes since the final bell had rung and the students had scattered to attend to their Friday afternoon obligations (or lack thereof), but anxiety swirled in Mina’s belly at the complete emptiness of the halls. Has he stood me up? Was I too pushy? Is he secretly a great big jerk who is nice to people’s faces but scathingly berates them behind their back to his football teammates and they all laugh evilly at the unknowing victim’s expense? 

With a dramatic sob, Mina flung herself against the classroom door and hugged it, her fingers just barely curling around the wide frame. Once again, it seemed that her recruitment plan had failed miserably, and she was still the sole member of the Astronomy Club. Was she a doomed stranded astronaut, left to traverse the stars in silence awaiting a bitter end? She sank to her knees, sliding down the door with a long squeeeeeeeeak and crying bitter tears. Stars were hella cool! Why did no one at this stupid high school appreciate them? 

“Mina!” 

Mina’s mood did a complete one-eighty when she heard Eijirou calling her name and his footsteps pounding around the corner. She jumped to her feet, her tears drying up instantly and her pout morphing into a giddy smile. The redhead came trotting up, a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead and an apologetic smile on his face. 

“Sorry!” he panted. “I didn’t get a chance to warn you that my class is all the way on the first floor. I hope you weren’t waiting long!” 

“No, no! I just got here mys— yeowch!” 

She had still been hugging the door, so when she tried to turn to face him, she accidentally pulled it forward and smashed her fingers in the doorjamb. She screamed as her knucklebones crunched and the skin tore; the pain rocketing up her arm sprang tears to her eyes immediately, and she released a petulant whine as she retracted her bruised and bloody fingers from between the wooden door and concrete wall. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay, Mina?” Eijirou gasped, dropping his school bag and rushing to her side. Mina cradled her throbbing hand to her chest with little sniffles, curling away from the football player when he reached for it. He gave her an encouraging, sweet smile. “I know I look big and tough, but I promise, I can be gentle too. Let me see; you may have broken something.”

Whimpering but enticed by his soothing words and demeanor, Mina obediently allowed him to pull her hand forward to inspect her fingers. They were bruising already, big blotches of purple blooming around the torn and bloody skin. Eijirou leaned over her hand, and goosebumps sprouted on her skin as his warm breath puffed over her electrified skin and aching bones. With featherlight touches, he inspected her knuckles, prodding as gently as he could to feel for any deviations in the bone. 

“I know this may hurt, but can you bend them?” he asked, looking up at her through his red bangs. Mina whimpered again, hesitant to comply for fear of the pain. However, the glitter in his vermilion eyes urged her to comply. She hesitantly bent her fingers, wincing as pain skittered up her nerves— but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would. Eijirou smiled satisfactorily. “You crunched ‘em pretty good, but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured,” he said as he straightened up. 

“Thanks… I can’t believe I did that,” she sighed, using her good hand to knock on the side of her head a few times. How embarrassing, injuring herself like that in front of him! “Well, now that all that drama is over, let’s go inside so I can tell you about the club.” 

Eijirou followed her inside. While she rifled through the teacher’s desk for some bandages, he looked around at the desks, which were empty aside from a build-your-own-telescope kit, Mina’s completed telescope, and astronomical charts and textbooks. As Mina wrapped bandages around her fingers, he looked at her with knitted eyebrows. 

“There’s no one else here yet?” 

“There’s no one else to be here,” she replied with a shrug and a wan smile. “I’m the club’s only member.” When Eijirou’s eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair, she sadly added, “If that information makes you want to leave, go ahead and do so,” she said with a wave at the door. She then looked down at the adhesive wrapped around her knuckles. “You wouldn’t be the first.” 

“No, I don’t want to leave,” Eijirou said quickly. He marched up to the front of the desk, leaning against it. Mina didn’t know what to look at—his flexing muscles or his bright smile. He tilted his head slightly as he smiled charmingly at her, then said, “Tell me about your club, Mina. I want to know everything.” 

Oh God, he’s hot! Mina screamed inside her head, her good hand flying to her rapidly-beating heart. It took everything within her not to absolutely swoon at the complete sweetheart of a man gracing her with his presence this Friday afternoon. Her eyes watered a little in gratitude, or maybe it was the sheer emotion at being witness to such a wonderful human being’s kindness. 

Thus, Mina did as he asked. She first instructed Eijirou how to build the telescope that he would use on nights they did observations; he bungled through it a little, but remained patient and tried his best to follow the instructions. Mina had to giggle at the absolutely triumphant grin that plastered his face when he successfully assembled the telescope; he held it up over his head and pranced around—nearly giving them both a panic attack when he bumped into a desk and nearly dropped the telescope on the ground. Mina didn’t think she could handle a Shoto 2.0. 

After assembling the telescope, she started him off with easy information—constellations. She unrolled her star map which had all the constellations displayed by season, explaining specifically which ones they could see at the moment. Eijirou was very excited to see them in person, so they arranged a meeting for the following week. True to form, he showed up that Friday night with his telescope and all his zeal, his smile brighter than the full moon hanging high in the sky. 

“It’s hard to believe that people stared at the sky thousands of years ago and traced shapes out of ‘em!” he exclaimed as he plonked his telescope down to the ground. “And made up all these stories to go with ‘em. And all the stories and constellations are different based on what civilization was lookin’ at ‘em!” 

“The stars have always been fascinating,” Mina hummed, gently setting up her telescope and adjusting the lens. “Sometimes I like to find my own constellations and make up stories about them.” 

“Really? Tell me one!” 

“Well, my favorite is the Alien Queen!” 

“The Alien Queen?” Eijirou laughed, making Mina flush shyly. “Show me!” Not waiting for an answer, he shouldered in next to her telescope and peered into it. She flushed darker as his sturdy shoulder dug into the meat of her side, warmth blooming across her skin. With slightly trembling hands, she moved the telescope to the right section of the sky. 

“Do you see that big, bright shiny star right there?” she asked, waiting until Eijirou confirmed. “Well, that’s the tip of the back of her head. If you follow them like this—” she gestated in front of the lens, tracing the star pattern— “it looks kinda like the alien from the horror movie!” 

“Leave it to Mina Ashido to find the Xenomorph constellation,” Eijirou snickered, straightening up to smile at her in amusement. “No wonder you’re the club president.” Mina shyly played with the hem of her skirt, unable to control the giddy smile playing over her lips. 

They spent the rest of the early evening finding the constellations and discussing the various mythologies behind each. Eijirou loved the Greek-based patterns and myths the most. Every time they pointed one out, he would flex dramatically and proclaim how much he loved the famous heroes of old—Hercules, Achilles, Odysseus, Perseus. Mina laughed at his sensational flexing and grunting each time, her giggles bouncing around the empty practice field to join the cricket song. 

Monday morning, Mina was surprised to find Eijirou rushing down the hall towards her as she went to enter her classroom. His face was flushed pink and his forehead dotted with sweat, indicating that he’d sprinted all the way to her. He pin-wheeled to a stop, nearly bumping her with his broad chest, and his breath puffed in her hair as he grinned brightly down at her. 

“Mina! Guess what I saw on the news this morning! The Creati comet is gonna be passing by this Wednesday, and it’ll be visible here that night!” 

“Yeah, I know!” Mina cried. She’d been glued to the news program this morning as astrophysicists and space program officials discussed the once-in-a-lifetime event; it was rumored to be an absolute gorgeous comet, with a rare rosy pink-lavender tail due to its high concentrations of lithium and potassium chloride. She then blushed, warmed by the fact that Eijirou had found it so important to inform her that he’d run all the way across campus first thing in the morning. 

“Yeah! We’re gonna watch it together, right?” he asked, clapping his hands on her shoulders. Mina flushed, fidgeting in place and chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

“A-are you sure? I’m sure you’ll be tired after football practice.” 

“Are you kidding? What kind of Astronomy Club member would I be if I didn’t see this comet?” he objected. 

Mina felt her heart thrum at the statement. Does he enjoy being a member that much? She’d only recruited him as a means to an end, but was it really turning out that Eijirou liked being a member of her club? She felt her belly twist with guilt and a cold flush pulse through her body. She curled into herself a little, blood roaring in her ears and nearly drowning out what he said next. 

“I know you’re planning on going to watch it, so let’s see it together, Mina!” 

“Okay,” she found herself saying before she even processed it. The next two days were a similar blur of guilt and anxiety amidst preparations to view the comet Wednesday evening. All traces of excitement she would normally possess was swallowed up by the remorse poisoning her from the hard ball in the pit of her belly. She couldn’t help but obsess over the fact that she’d recruited Eijirou on false pretenses, abusing his kind heart to use his popularity for her own gain. She’d already received a flood of interest in the club once news had spread that Eijirou was seemingly an official member, but she’d evaded them with half-hearted promises that she’d contact them soon to set up a general interest meeting. 

On Wednesday night she stood by the hydrangea bush, chewing on her bottom lip and tempted to hide within its emerald leaves and pink blossoms so she wouldn’t have to face Eijirou. Before she could take shelter in its branchy depths, the redhead came trotting up the sidewalk, his smile gleaming in the starlight as he called her name. His telescope flopped on his back in its canvas sheath. 

“Hey, Mina!” he grinned when he came to a stop in front of her, panting slightly. Always in such a rush, she thought fondly. No wonder he’s the star quarterback. “Are you excited? I sure am!” 

“Yeah,” she lied. There was no room to be excited with all the guilt filling her to the brim. Eijirou’s smile somehow managed to get brighter. Despite everything, her heart still jumped in her chest when he grabbed her hand, his thick and calloused fingers so strangely perfect around her slim ones, and pulled her onto the practice field. 

“This is perfect!” he exclaimed, looking up at the starry night sky with his hands on his hips. Mina only hummed quietly, robotically unfolding a blanket and placing it over the grass. She’d arranged for the school to shut off the nighttime lights for the evening, giving them a clear view of the moon and stars. Thus, they were the only things that provided illumination as Mina and Eijirou sat down on the soft blanket together. “I didn’t know if we would want to get a better look at the comet, so I brought this!” he said excitedly, slipping the telescope off his back and setting it down between them. Mina hummed again, anxiety swirling in the pit of her belly. In the gloom, she could still see Eijirou’s bright red eyebrows scrunch. 

“Mina…? What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. Mina debated lying for a moment; she nervously plucked at the loose fibers of her stockings, unable to meet his pretty vermillion eyes. The lie never got the chance to dance on her tongue. She knew she had to come clean, to tell him the truth before she toted him along even further. 

“Eijirou… I have to confess something,” she admitted quietly. He shifted beside her, eyebrows raised. 

“What is it?” 

“I’m not as good a person as you think I am.” Her voice shook as tears flooded her eyes. She bit down on her lip as a sniffle slipped free. Eijirou looked at her in utter bewilderment, confusion swirling in those gorgeous vermillion eyes that had struck her the moment she had first seen them. He gently reached out to stroke his fingertips ever-so-lightly down her cheek; she turned away, a tear slipping down her cheek that was still tingling with his featherlight touch. “Don’t,” she begged, her voice nothing more than a strained whisper. “I don’t deserve your sympathy.” 

“Mina…” 

“I used you, Eijirou,” she said finally, choking the words out as her throat constricted with guilt. “I used your popularity for my own gain. I just wanted my club to be popular.” 

She didn’t look at him as the silence hung heavy between them, like an anvil suspended on a slowly fraying rope. She waited with bated breath for the rope to snap and for it to plummet, for him to explode on her like he rightfully should, to tell her she was selfish and cruel and for him to storm away and never look back. She cringed when he inhaled sharply, already preparing for his raised voice. 

He didn’t yell or scream or curse. Instead, his voice was heartbreakingly soft when he murmured, “That doesn’t make you a bad person. That just makes you lonely.” 

Mina’s eyes fluttered as her heart swelled with hope. She didn’t resist when he cupped her cheek and gently turned her tear-stained face to look at him. Her watery eyes met his red ones, and she was so relieved to find them brimming with understanding, not hate or anger. He swept his thumb over her cheek to catch the tears still streaming over her ruddy skin. 

“Mina… I knew that already,” he confessed with a small smile. She gasped in shock, while Eijirou smiled bashfully and rubbed at the back of his neck with his other hand. “As soon as you told me that you were the only member of the club, I figured that you wanted to use my popularity to recruit more people. I was a little bitter about it for a second, but… Then I saw how sad you looked.” He used both his hands to cup her cheeks and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face. Even if you were using me, I wanted you to be happy.” 

“Why?” she hiccuped, chest drawing tight like a balloon ready to burst. “Th-that was so horrible of me… And you still wanted to do that for me? Why?” 

“Because from the moment you jumped out of that hydrangea bush, I’ve been head-over-heels for you,” he purred, mouth twitching up into a smirk. Her face flushed with a fierce, fiery blush and her mouth dropped open in shock. “And maybe I was a little hopeful that I could get you to be head-over-heels for me, too,” he added with a playful wink. Mina couldn’t help but laugh, mostly from the overwhelming relief bubbling up inside her body. She leaned into him, finding solace in how well her small body fit into his muscular one—like a lock and key, like they belonged together. 

Sniffling happily, she curled her fingers into the leathery fabric of his varsity jacket and smiled joyfully. 

“Well, you didn’t have to try very hard. How could I not be head-over-heels for you?”

Before they could say anything else, the sky was suddenly filled with bright light. They both turned to see that the comet had appeared among the stars. Its powdery tail streamed pinkish-blue behind the large white body, slowly traveling across the expanse of inky blue like a leisurely sailboat. Mina inhaled sharply as the pastel colors reflected in her eyes and the light danced over her skin and hair; it truly was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She was so entranced that she didn’t register Eijirou’s hand sneaking under her chin again until he turned her face back. The comet danced in his red eyes, making it a pink nebula of stars and space and beauty. 

No. Those eyes of his were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

She almost didn’t want to close her own as he leaned in to kiss her, but as soon as his lips smoothed over her own, she couldn’t help it. They drifted shut as she melted against him, savoring the gentle motions of his mouth against hers. Her heart fluttered when his hand drifted up into her cotton-candy hair, twirling around the strands like he was memorizing the feel of the silky threads. He kissed her with rising passion, like an astronaut adrift in space who’d finally found the oxygen he needed. 

They pulled apart slightly panting and blushing the same color as the comet streaming slowly above their heads. He stroked her face gently, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on the blanket. She laughed when he hugged her tight, nuzzled into her hair and inhaled deeply. 

“You smell like hydrangeas.” 

“Eijirou, I thought we were here to watch the comet.” 

“It’s pretty,” he remarked with a glance up at the sky. He then looked down at her with that dazzling smile she adored so much. “But I’ve got a heavenly body right here that I’m more interested in.” 

“Oh my gosh! That’s so corny!” she howled, throwing her head back in laughter. Eijirou snickered and snuggled into the side of her face, making her laugh more at the ticklish sensation of his nose brushing her skin. He peppered butterfly kisses over every inch of skin he could find, making her squirm and giggle in his grasp. 

Finally, he rolled on his side, one arm still snug around her shoulders while he watched the comet slowly make its way across the horizon. She pressed against him, warm and fuzzy and happy. 

“You know, despite the circumstances, I’m still glad you asked me to join, Mina,” Eijirou said with a contented sigh. His fingers drifted up to play with the fluffy strands of her hair. Mina rested her head on his chest, smiling while she watched the comet. 

“Me too, Eijirou. I can’t wait to spend the rest of the school year checking out heavenly bodies.” 

Eijirou gave her a wan look as she snorted piggishly in laughter. 

“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” 

“Absolutely not. I’m already planning to sell tee shirts!” 

Eijirou laughed, then rolled over to attack her with snuggles and kisses again. Mina welcomed his embrace and affections. Their laughter drifted up into the sky to join the stars and the streaming glittery trail of the comet, finding a home forever in the vastness of space…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[mementomarygold]

lmao so @willowcrowned and i were discussing how ed would absolutely drag al and roy on a field trip to truth purely to beat old man hawkeyes ass and i was like. eh i dont have plans today so...

Categorically, Alphonse supposed that he and Ed (mostly Ed) had sucker punched the ways of the known universe so many times that standing behind his brother in Truth’s domain for, and he quotes, “fun and bitch slapping” was really…. not… that impossible or implausible or any other word that started with ‘im’ and ended with ‘ible’ (because all of those words tended to apply to Ed at some point or another during the course of every day of their shared life). 

Al wasn’t with Ed the night that Colonel Hawkeye told him about her time in Ishval and how she came to join the military and Roy’s aspirations to become fuhrer, but he’d heard about it enough to form a pretty solid picture in his mind.

Riza, in a soft sweater with her hair down, seated at one side of her kitchen table with a mug of tea and Ed on the other side, probably disheveled and at least a little manic as he tended to be at the best of times.

Ed had told him that her father had tattooed his array on her back and that she’d asked Roy to burn it off of her after the war. Al had been duly horrified, as he supposed anyone with an ounce of compassion would have been, Ed was frothing at the mouth with anger, ready to dig up the man’s body with the sole purpose of yelling at his remains which Al had also been horrified by.

(“Not literally, Al. It’s an exaggeration. Geez.) 

Neither of them, it appeared, had realized the full scope of what it implied until they’d actually seen the scars. Sure, they’d known that some arrays were large, sprawling things that required the better part of a chalkboard to scrawl out fully. They just never imagined that someone’s parent would be cruel enough to ink something that complicated onto their child’s skin.

Ed, who hated needles, was especially incensed the moment he’d seen it. She’d never bared her back around them, before. She wasn’t self conscious of the scar, not in the way Ed tried to cover his automail ports and Roy kept his gloves on throughout the work day and around company. She was simply disinclined to answer the questions that always followed their reveal.

 A diplomatic excursion turned mini-vacation off the coast of Aerugo, six years after the Almost Apocalypse, was the first time they’d ever seen Riza in a dress without a back.

 It was a sundress in a stunning shade of cornflower blue that really brought out her eyes -- Al had stopped at a flower vendor on the side of the main street and acquired several simple, white flowers for her to tuck behind her ear -- and even then it wasn’t until they’d reached the beach itself and she deemed it too hot to keep her hair down any longer and (terrifyingly enough) pulled a soft looking scrunchie from the holster on her thigh to secure her hair into a bun much neater than the disgrace atop Ed’s head that they’d seen it.

Al had gasped, a nearly silent intake of breath that rattled around his lungs in a way that he hadn’t felt since those first few months directly after regaining his body. Ed’s reaction, fittingly, was more physical than his brother’s; his flesh fingers, loosely tangled with Roy’s in the relative anonymity that being out of Amestris and out of uniform granted them, tightened until the pressure exerted could very well have come from his automail.

Neither of them said anything, then. Riza already bared the burden of having the goddamn thing on her body she shouldn’t have to also shoulder other’s reactions. Al recovered first, plastering on a smile and shaking off the shudder that ran down his spine, ignoring the slight shake in his fingers as he grabbed hold of Riza’s wrist and dragged her off towards the water.

Ed followed them with his eyes until they reached the shoreline before turning to Roy, lips pressed together tightly and eyes shining with the kind of righteous fury he only ever seemed to feel on behalf of others. 

Roy remained silent, not waiting to risk being heard by any of the Hawk’s senses, but Ed had long learned to read every micro expression and twitch of the man’s eyebrows. 

He was seriously reconsidering that bit about digging up old man Hawkeye’s grave being an exaggeration. But it wouldn’t be satisfying enough to yell at his corpse; he deserved to hear every terrible thing Ed had to say to him.

Had Al been looking towards his brother at the time, he would have seen the glint in his eye and the slant of his smile and known immediately that some fuckery was a-goddamn-foot.

But he hadn’t been and now he was living with the consequences of leaving his brother unsupervised for more than several consecutive seconds.

Beside him, in the unrelenting white of the Place Beyond Gates, Roy seemed to be experiencing a similar sense of regret. 

Ed, because he was Ed, was in front of them both, flanked by the two people he trusted most in the world, waving the hand that wasn’t on his hip at the literal embodiment of god, completely unimpressed.

“I stopped my evil uncle from eating you!” Ed said, “You owe me. I don’t want to bring the guy back to life, I just want to scream at him a little.”

Truth, for the first time in his eternal life, had no idea what the fuck was happening or how to handle it. “You want me to let you talk to the soul of Berthold Hawkeye?”

“Fuck, is that really his name? Unfortunate. But yes. Consider it payment for saving your ass six years ago.”

“Saving my ass,” Truth repeated, completely monotone. Honestly, Al could sympathize. That was a common, valid reaction to Ed’s… everything.

 “And you don’t want to speak to your mother instead?” Truth asked, because Ed was correct and they were a bastard, “You almost lost everything to bring her back to life--”

“No.” Ed said firmly, with such finality that even Roy looked a little startled; but Al got it, “We’ve made our peace. Our bastard father is there with her and we’ll see her again soon enough; there will be more than enough time for us to talk then. I want to see old man Hawkeye and I want him to be just corporal enough for me to shove my metal foot so far up his ass that he’s gonna choke on my toes. Got it?”

“Yes,” Al said, finally, stepping forward and smiling in the way that promised something painful, slow, and oh-so-terribly unfortunate should the person in question not immediately do exactly what he wanted, “Got it?”

Behind both Elric’s, Roy grinned only a little meanly, clenching and unclenching his fists. He wondered idly if his alchemy would work in Truth’s realm? It would be awfully poetic if it did.

[magioftheseas]

Gundham & Yasuke

Summary: The Forbidden Tanaka’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. YES.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and blood/injuries.

Notes: Unsurprisingly, Tanaka was the winner of the poll for which FTEs were to be done next. So his FTEs, quite hilariously, are getting posted on the anniverary date for sdr2′s initial release. That feels pretty...fitting. Writing Tanaka’s dialogue was really hard but I did my best. Despite my best efforts, these two don’t get along the best that they could. Cursed.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

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It went without saying that he didn’t have a normal middle school experience so he didn’t interact with a lot of people who exhibited the so-called eighth-grader syndrome. But he knew that once kids had the cognitive ability to identify their lot in life and long for more, such desires could get...twisted, to say the least.

Just about everyone wants to be fucking special if they’re not too focused on surviving. And most people grew ashamed of the lofty aspirations and special interests they developed in that delicate era. Matsuda understood that much, even if he was considerably detached from it. In some ways, those people were like animals. Strange beasts that acted on impulses and instincts. That still had intelligence but not, like, awareness. When it came to engaging with these types, Matsuda had no choice but to accept them even as he shook his head at their delusions of grandeur.

He understands he’s supposed to do that in theory.

In practice, however...

“Sharp-tongued fool!” Tanaka bellowed. “You draw too near to the barrier of the Ice Kingdom!”

It’s a beautiful day outside. It’s always a beautiful fucking day. Clear, sunny sky. Warm but with a pleasant breeze to keep it from being too sweltering. It’s such a nice day—and Matsuda Yasuke does not want to be here.

Without another word, he turns on his heel.

“Aha!” Tanaka sneered. “To think just the warning prose would be enough to make you turn tail and run. A cowardice I did not expect, but perhaps... I should have.”

While walking away and listening to that guy cackle to himself, all Matsuda had in response was to flip him off.

He proceeded to avoid Tanaka for the rest of the day—and would’ve avoided him for the rest of his life had fate not had something else in store.

--

It was another beautiful day. The perfect day for a walk. He was thinking by the ranch so that he could admire the chickens as he passed. Unfortunately, he not only came across chickens but also the cow that used to be a chicken he quite liked.

Also Tanaka Gundam.

And their eyes ended up meeting.

There’s no real point in reasoning with someone who exhibits grandiose delusions, he reminded himself. It’s no good to denounce them, but it’s also no good to enable them. It’s a delicate line that I do not want to fucking bother with.

Matsuda does look away, intent on ignoring the other. Despite that resolve, his thoughts don’t shut up.

I didn’t have any peers in middle school for obvious reasons. I never actually spoke to someone my own age who felt this way. I was too busy being fixated on my own goals and lofty aspirations.

A couple of steps forward. It’s fine. If he continued the way he was already going, he can just pass Tanaka. It’d be easy. Simple.

...

Fuck.

He pauses. He turns. Tanaka has already turned away, but as if guided by the third sense of a fucking Evil All-Seeing Eye, he turns back to Matsuda. His brow quirks.

“Has the barrier truly weakened so?”

“I don’t know,” Matsuda replied intelligently. “For some reason, I feel too worn down to go through the effort of pretending you don’t exist.”

Tanaka cackled lowly.

“Such an insolent remark. It seems you do not truly know your place. But that is just as well. Even now, your true name is one that seems out of my grasp.”

“I’m Matsuda Yasuke. Nice to meet you.”

Tanaka clicked his tongue, scowling at Matsuda’s blank expression and his deadpan tone.

“That,” he snarled. “Is merely a brush against the surface. It does not encompass the deepest depths of your rogue soul.”

Alright. So he wants to know what makes me tick. If I had to guess.

“Your true name,” Tanaka requested impatiently. “I have no need for superficial titles.”

“That’s cold,” Matsuda huffed. “The name my mom gave me isn’t superficial.”

...even if it is ironic.

For some reason, Tanaka does perk up. He gives a nod of approval.

“A fair retort,” he concedes. “That maternal bond is its own scarring shackle.”

That admission was the first true crack in the wall between them. Or so Matsuda supposed, and he felt himself slip just a little bit further.

What a headache...

“Anyway,” he went on with a wave of his hand. “It’d be incredibly foolish to give you my true name, right? If telling a demon my name gives them possession of my soul and telling them my birthday gives them control of my life... Then telling someone like you...”

Tanaka nodded again, grinning so widely it was damn near grotesque.

“I see...the sharp-tongued fool is still retaining a sharp mind...”

I shouldn’t have played along even in jest. Fuck.

“What special abilities do you possess?” Tanaka purrs, drawing closer now. “What hidden capabilities have you acquired?”

Tanaka stalks even closer, his eyes are flashing with curiosity and hunger. Probably because this fucking weirdo wouldn’t understand a normal interaction if it bit him in the face.

I still hate that stare. I fucking hate that stare.

“You already know that,” Matsuda snapped, forcing himself to stay relaxed. “Neurology is my talent. You even know my name and birthday because of those damn student files...”

Calm down, calm down. It’s just fucking Tanaka—

Tanaka does halt. His head tilts quizzically.

“Hmph.” With nostrils flaring, Tanaka seemed to duck into his own scarf. “I suppose you are human after all.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Simple.” Tanaka chuckled. “I sensed your apprehension, Matsuda Yasuke. I sensed—and yet, I could tell it was not a chill brought about by the Ice Kingdom.”

Matsuda does flinch at that.

“I shall take my leave for now so that you may re-gather your peace,” Tanaka declared. “Till next time, sharp-tongued fool.”

Tanaka gave him a salute. Matsuda barely had a chance to wave back before Tanaka flipped his scarf and coat so that it would dramatically billow behind him as he made his overly dramatic exit. So fucking extra, and yet—

He left so that I could take the time to calm down.

And how the hell was he supposed to feel about that?

--

“Even now, I can hear the crackling of the Ice Kingdom’s barrier.” Tanaka was cackling. Another beautiful day. Yet somehow this weirdo was set on shrouding himself in asinine mystery as well as his own dark layers. How the hell was he not burning up?

Tanaka noticed his staring and merely smirked. “What brings you today, Matsuda Yasuke?”

Aah. Even with that pompous fucking tone, it’s an understandable question.

“I don’t like things to be unbalanced,” he said which was a bald-faced lie but sounded persuasive enough. “Since you interrogated me last time, I thought I’d ask you a few questions of my own.”

“Hmph!” Tanaka snorted. “You seek a comprehension that may underlie a deep terror that cannot be contained! Do you not fear for your sanity?”

“No, I’m insane already,” Matsuda said flatly. “I drove myself insane years ago.”

“Is that SO?!” Tanaka boomed, incredulous or admiring, Matsuda wasn’t sure. “Your humanity is one that only hangs by a thread, then?!”

I...can’t disagree with that, huh.

Matsuda shrugged.

“We’re not supposed to be talking about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Tanaka remained guarded but gave a nod.

“Very well. Demi-human or no, I shall not lose to you.”

That’s more like it. You’re much less annoying this way.

“What talents do you have?” he settles on since it’s only fair. “Even if it’s not the full roster, I’d like to know some...special abilities.”

“You shall only get a portion,” Tanaka said, sniffing. “Despite my appearance, I’m an active fiend. Between sorcery and human hunting, I manage my website.”

Matsuda blinked, trying to imagine this guy at a computer. Actually, it was really easy to imagine. There’s no way Tanaka learned to talk like an edgelord on his own.

I bet he spends a lot of time looking up stupid shit like Norse mythology. But, if he has a website, then...

“I have encrypted my research with magic,” Tanaka informed him. “Thus, only those worthy can gain access.”

...if he means through password then I could probably hack in with ease.

“If I had to guess what kind of research it was,” Matsuda mused. “Then—probably something like a pet diary, right?”

There were a series of muffled squeaks from Tanaka’s scarf. Tanaka burst into a boisterous boom of laughter.

“Even with your wits, you would only be able to access the dummy site!” Tanaka grinned victoriously, even though no conflict had taken place. “Your skill level would only open the gates of the Exciting Breeding Journal.”

“...Alright. That’s fine by me.”

You’re literally here because of your talent in animal husbandry.

“Favorite food?” Matsuda asked next. Tanaka stiffened. Growled, even. Because he was pissed off about getting such a lukewarm response? Matsuda didn’t bother inquiring, instead pressing, “Do you have one?”

“The orange melon that bears the face of the devil,” Tanaka huffed, put out. “No other food compares in terms of high nutrients or versatility in cooking methods. More importantly, its seeds are the most effective food source for my Four Dark Devas of Destruction.”

...a pumpkin. He’s talking about a pumpkin, right?

“However! Those seeds must be carefully washed, carefully dried, carefully peeled,” Tanaka rambled on. “And lightly fried.”

“How meticulous,” Matsuda muttered. “But nothing less for...them.”

“Indeed. A difficulty that beguiles pain and pleasure alike matters not in the face of a grand purpose.”

I can agree with that even if I hate how it’s worded.

“There is more when it comes to the caring of beasts,” Tanaka rumbled. “Shall I lead you deeper?”

“Uh.” Matsuda waved his hand. “Next time. Let’s talk more next time.”

Tanaka gave him a truly wicked grin. For once, it actually felt malicious.

“Take as much time you need to prepare yourself, sharp-tongued fool.”

Matsuda made a face but bit his tongue.

Piece of shit.

--

Tanaka wasn’t out and about today at the ranch. He wasn’t in the diner, either. It went to reason that he was likely in his cottage.

It’s only because I found some pumpkin seeds that I’m even going...

When he knocked on the door, he found it unlocked. Since he wasn’t an animal, he was going to wait for Tanaka to answer the door rather than barge in but...

“Ku—!”

He heard a noise. A sharp, strangled sound that was undeniably made through gritted teeth. Matsuda opened the door immediately.

“Is everything alright?”

And indeed—Tanaka was holding his bloodied hand in a death grip. The hamsters were chirping and chittering, but unaffected. What happened was clear, especially in how Tanaka’s shoulders were hunched.

Thankfully, Matsuda carried around packets of wet wipes. He rummaged through his pocket for one, stepping forward and reaching out.

“Let me...”

“NO!” Tanaka shrieked, and like a startled beast he scrambled away from his hand. He was panting, still gripping his injury with a wide and wild-eyed stare. Seeing Matsuda there did little to calm him down, as he growled, “The blood that flows through my veins bears a fearsome curse. You must step away now to spare yourself their potency.”

Thankfully, Matsuda carried around disposable gloves. He slipped them on, tearing the wet wipe packet open, and made his way closer.

“Come on. We really don’t want that bite to get infected.”

“This is not my first blood sacrifice,” Tanaka snarled, even showing his teeth. Gross. “I have no need for your medical sorcery. And furthermore, that meager covering...!”

“Oh my fucking god, shut the hell up.” Matsuda snatched up his hand, prying the other off as Tanaka shrieked some more. Thankfully, Matsuda was able to pull it away and got to work dabbing and cleaning the wound. Tanaka had completely frozen now, but Matsuda was still fuming.

“Don’t ever fucking call me meager,” he snapped, and thankfully Tanaka had spare clean bandages for him to re-wrap his hand with. “Crude and foolish I’ll take. Meager I won’t.”

Tanaka finally scoffed as Matsuda made sure the bandaging was secure.

“A demi-human like you has such pride.”

Look who’s fucking talking.

“You should not have endangered yourself, however,” Tanaka went on. “I was not telling falsehoods about my poisonous blood. It is only by a thread that you have not already deteriorated. As crude and foolish as you are, I do not desire your demise.”

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of poison, so you’re worrying too much,” Matsuda replied but winced from a sudden headache. As he rubbed removed his gloves to rub his temples, Tanaka stood up.

“You once again face the ramifications for your hubris!” he exclaimed and rushed back to deal with his hamsters. “I grant you relief, and I advise you to take your leave immediately.”

“I’m fucking fine, it’s just a migraine,” Matsuda griped and disposed of the gloves and wipes. “Should you really be handling those hamsters again so soon?”

“They are not mere hamsters!” Tanaka bellowed. “The fangs I have taken are that of the Crimson Steel Elephant, Maga-Z!”

Maga-Z blinked its bright beady eyes at Matsuda.

“For the sake of the Invading Black Dragon, Cham-P,” Tanaka went to coo over the largest hamster which was orange, not black. “A golden demon, one who understands fear all too well... Much attention should be heeded to make sure they do not get overly stressed out... While many devil beasts of this ilk are aggressive and fearfully territorial, the golden variant is the most docile and intelligent. They recognize me as...”

He trails off. It’s as if he’s too moved to speak.

I have heard hamsters had an unnaturally high rate of cannibalism, Matsuda thought. But I suppose like with dog breeds, they come in all sizes...and temperaments...

It was obvious Tanaka knew his shit, being an Ultimate at all. But seeing it firsthand, watching him dote on the beasts with a cottage interior largely dedicated to their cage and tube, the guy definitely loved animals. Like, a lot. Despite his delusions of grandeur, he at least seemed to love animals a healthy, non-obsessive amount.

“They’re living well,” Matsuda commented blandly.

Tanaka scoffed at him.

“For demons that live a mere 1095 days, the luxuries in life mean everything. I would never settle for less.”

“I see...” He scuffed the end of his shoe against the wooden floor. “That’s good.”

Shouldn’t have worn open-toed shoes, but I don’t have any alternatives. Oh, right.

“I got pumpkin seeds.” He tossed the bag and it landed on Tanaka’s lap. The hamsters jumped, and even Tanaka flinched. Matsuda, however, turned on his heel. “Sorry. Bye.”

With that insincere apology, he headed out. He could feel a disproving stare on his back but that didn’t lessen his steps in the slightest.

--

His favorite chicken-turned-cow was in a good mood today. She was accepting pets and even nipping at his fingers. All he had on him was candy. Not any fruit much less hay although...

“If you plan to feed that creature, you should be wary of apples,” Tanaka rumbled from behind. Where the fuck he came from, Matsuda wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t surprised to be hearing from him. “You can risk over-eating which will cause a bloated stomach for the animal.”

“Ah, thanks for the advice,” Matsuda said sincerely, turning back and frowning when he noticed the other’s own hanging head. “What’s with the long face?”

“I would hope that you do not consider that creature to be your familiar, Matsuda Yasuke,” Tanaka murmured sullenly and solemnly. Like he had come across something truly pitiful to the point of depressing.

Although he seems more focused on the cow itself...

“I don’t have a familiar,” Matsuda huffed.

Tanaka quirks an eyebrow at him. Furrows it, even, as if Matsuda is the one not making sense. How seriously annoying. But rather than inquire further, Tanaka just shakes his head.

“Creatures like that one are born to be slaughtered,” he said, turning on his heel. “What a wretched fate, one that cannot be escaped even with the use of the Evil All-Seeing Eye. If one is to form a bond with such an unfortunate beast, they will invite only calamity.”

“That’s...” Not necessarily true. There is livestock out there allowed to live full lives. But they’re exceptions that prove the rule, I suppose. And the fact that I even thought to use a word like allowed... “Woof.”

Tanaka barked back. “This sentimentality only arose because I have not encountered any new beasts. I shall go searching as to put my mind at ease.”

He walked on, and Matsuda found himself following. Tanaka didn’t seem to mind at all. The opposite, in fact.

“There are many creatures I’ve tamed, sharp-tongued one,” Tanaka went on to say. “The Cerberus. The Phoenix. Even then Midgardian Serpent.”

Looks like I was right on the money about him looking up Norse shit. That’s just another fucking word for Earth, asshole. I’ve read enough shitty fantasy manga to know.

“I saw a toucan one time,” he commented in lieu of verbalizing his thoughts. “And I guess there are the seagulls. Or those mascots.”

“Those uncute fiends cannot be trusted with their speech,” Tanaka hissed. “As for the others... Ah, the ravenous, feathered beasts.” Tanaka nodded sagely with approval at that one. “They are a perilous project as they are quite fearless and impulsive. Even when greater threats arise, they gather like a court waiting to hand down judgment.”

I think...that’s more something that crows do rather than seagulls.

He does think about it though, birds judging one another. If he looked up, he’d even see a seagull or two soar overhead. A phrase rose to his mind, unbidden.

When the seagulls cry...

“Hm?” Tanaka paused when he noticed that Matsuda had stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, and whatever expression was on Matsuda’s face—whatever that was had Tanaka clicking his tongue. “What is on your mind?”

“Something stupid,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Even in peaceful times, I can’t help but worry about how easily things fall apart. Sometimes for something as petty as a broken promise.”

Is it speech alone that gives us the means of betraying one another?

Tanaka did stiffen.

“It sure is fortunate for us that we’ve yet to deal with any storms,” Matsuda went on to say. “In fact, it’s perfect weather every single day. Isn’t that strange? It almost doesn’t feel real, and if it’s not real... Does anything that happens here matter?” He paused again. “Like I said. It’s stupid.”

“Your inane ponderings still have an air of malice,” Tanaka muttered darkly.

Huh.

“Are you saying I’m someone to be on guard around?” He cracked a dry smile. “I’m not that fucking interested in messing with people. I just lack patience.”

Tanaka gave him a look. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

“I think... I will seek solace elsewhere. Do not follow me.”

Matsuda didn’t. Simply watched the other go. It might’ve been one of those annoying situations where the person was saying the exact opposite of what they wanted, but even if he could tell that was the case, he still wouldn’t have followed.

After all.

He lacked patience.

--

Tanaka seemed especially moody today. Although no matter how sullen his air was, the island sun wouldn’t let up in the slightest. In a way, that was pretty cruel, right? In that much light, it made it difficult to hide. Or something like that.

Wonder what he’s being so fucking temperamental about...

Matsuda makes his way over, waving as he does. He stops, however, when Tanaka regards him coldly.

“Matsuda Yasuke,” he rumbled in a gravelly tone of voice. “The sharp-tongued fool whose practices engage in the constitution of the mind... Would you like to duel?”

Huh?

Matsuda dropped his hand.

“...have you finally fucking gone actually insane?” He sighed. “Don’t answer that. No, I don’t want to duel. And if you push it, I’ll leave. I don’t have time for that bullshit.”

Tanaka’s cold stare became more of a glare.

“I’m afraid I do not have such luxury around you,” Tanaka said sharply. “You grind down my defenses with this continued, unsightly association. Despite wearing the face of a human, you, Matsuda Yasuke are...!”

“I’m just human,” Matsuda replied before he could finish. With an unimpressed shrug, he added. “And if you wanted me to stop bothering you, all you had to fucking do was say so.”

“I allowed these exchanges out of a sense of curiosity, arrogantly unheeding the danger,” Tanaka went on, muttering as he did. “Truly, I have been foolish.”

The sun shone down on him. On a day this bright, there wasn’t anyone to hide. Tanaka ‘Gundam’ looked a bit ill. When Matsuda took a step closer, however, he recoiled. With a sharp hiss, Tanaka held up his hand in warning.

Like an agitated cat.

Matsuda drew back with a sigh.

Someone like this—really is so needlessly fucking difficult. And for what? An inflated sense of importance? Wasn’t getting into Hope’s Peak enough?

...if he complained too much, he’d veer uncomfortably close to hypocrisy.

Hope’s Peak was just another step for me, but I wonder what it was for someone like this? Where the hell would he be if he didn’t get in? Honestly—I doubt it would’ve been all that significant.

“Alright,” he said. “Did you get anything out of our interactions at least?”

Tanaka stared at him, but being a normal fucking person without magical powers, Matsuda was more than capable of staring back, unaffected. For some reason, Tanaka did shy back a little.

“I have keenly observed you,” he said lowly. “Namely how your regard only shifts when directed towards creatures already marked for death. I suspect—you are a creature of calamity. The eye of the storm.”

“So, what,” Matsuda drawled. “Like a demon?”

Tanaka hummed, seemingly considering it. “No... That is not quite right.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, then,” Matsuda huffed, waving his hand dismissively. “But—I think I get what you’re saying. I just think it’s funny coming from you—and that you don’t understand.”

Tanaka’s stare blazed with an offense, and Matsuda paid no heed at all.

“How I regard creatures marked for death...” Matsuda snorted. “I’m a fucking doctor. Obviously, I treat them differently. It’s part of my fucking job.”

Although he’s referring to the cow, isn’t he? Seriously...

“I guess it’s weird,” he admitted. “With how shitty of an attitude I have. But I take my job seriously. If you can’t get something that simple, then your Evil All-Seeing Eye is pretty fucking lacking.”

“You...” Tanaka growled. “You’re truly impertinent. You wield your blade recklessly and foolishly. You and I both know—that it runs deeper than mere duty for you, Matsuda Yasuke.”

...so what if it does?

He supposes he should be impressed that Tanaka isn’t that fucking dense. That the animal freak is, in fact, a little perceptive.

Smiling mirthlessly, Matsuda reached out to pat the flinching other’s shoulder. He gripped him for just a moment.

“That’s all you need to know about me,” he murmured into Tanaka’s ear before pulling back. “I think we’re at enough of an understanding. Thanks for your time.” He gave a salute as he headed on his way. “We don’t need to talk again. We especially don’t need to duel. Have a wonderful fucking day.”

“One day,” Tanaka swore. “You will meet your cruel, disastrous end. That is the decree of the Tanaka Kingdom!” As Matsuda got further away, Tanaka boomed after him. “Mark my words, sharp-tongued FOOL! You are MARKED for des—!”

It was such a headache that Matsuda tuned him out. But as he found himself alone, he did wonder.

Marked for destruction? Or something else? Despite all that time, rather than growing close, that weirdo is now convinced that I’m hopeless. He might be right. Actually, I’d still consider us closer if he can recognize that. I still don’t really care. I don’t.

He walked on, moving forward because he had nowhere else to go.

Decree. What a fucking riot. If I do die, it won’t be because of an idiot like him. But whatever makes him feel better I suppose.

Matsuda shook his head, brushing the whole thing aside except...

If I die... It won’t be until I reach the very fucking pits. I won’t settle for anything less.

[redrosesartcabin]

The cave incident: Kenji x first perspective reader pt. 2 of 2

(Link to part one https://redrosesartcabin.tumblr.com/post/641312472793546752/the-cave-incident-kenji-x-first-perspective )

“Looks like we are stuck here”, Kenji said with a calmness, that however had that kind of underlaying tone that suggests a storm of panic coming soon.

“Hey hey hey: Not so fast. Let’s not give up just yet”, I answered softly, “Maybe if you could stabilize the motorcycle whilst I climb on top I could reach the edge of the cave”.

“Ok”, he said sceptically.

He held the vehicle whilst I stood on top. My fingers reached to the edge, but I was definitely still too far away. I knew that had been the only option, but still I tried contemplating.

“Ok, maybe if you sit on top and I get on your shoulders-“

“Y/n”, he interrupted that thought process bluntly.

“What?”, I grunted

“Stop. This may not be the deepest of caves…holes…cave-holes, but this ain’t a three feet puddle. Face it, we are stuck. We have nothing that could us even close”

“Yeah yeah, ok, you’re right”, I had to admit. Not something I liked to admit, but he was. But I sure didn’t do it without a glare.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Did I suggest riding the motorcycle?”

“Oh I see: now you want to blame it on me! The macho man finds himself in a bad situation and needs a scape goat. Ain’t that typical for you”, I hissed back.

Usually, or especially in the beginning, he would’ve kept on discussing and defending his greatness, but this time, to my surprise he flinched.

The quiet settled in faster than a second could pass.

He sat down on the ground and seemed to space out for a moment. I couldn’t move for a while, that’s how much that reaction surprised me.

Finally my body obeyed me again. I got down on my knees before him, trying to catch his eyes.

“Kenji, are you ok? I’m sorry I-“

“NO”, he interrupted me, “you’re right. I did try to act like I was better. I can’t seem to stop it… It’s a wonder anyone likes me at all”

“Oh hey now: What’s with the sudden change of attitude?”, I asked concerned, “didn’t you consider yourself the charming glue that holds the group together? Where has that Kenji gone?”

He let out a sad sounding laugh, “That Kenji did a run for it. That Kenji did call himself that but … did anybody ever say that about me because they genuinely thought that about me?”

“Did they ever dispute it?”, I asked, trying the lighten the mood, though I was starting to get his point.

He however still didn’t look convinced. I sighed in deeply, “Look: You might’ve started off as a jerk. Maybe even a major one. You might’ve come off as a rich, spoiled child. Which in many regards, is what you are: But you’ve proven, that that was just your outer shell. You’ve proven, that you are compassionate and understanding. And you know it.

We all have flaws. Some more than others. Some appear more undesirable and annoying than others. And especially those are hard to get over, because those have been acquired by default of how you grew up”

“Oh wow”, he simply answered, “I didn’t know you understood me… that well”

“I like psychoanalyzing people”, I answered with a bemused smile before I returned to the appropriate serious expression, “but besides that: I think we connected… or at least I thought so”

“No no … you’re right: We have but… I just… nobody ever even tried to understand me that way so deeply like you have, not even our other friends”

“It’s a gift I suppose”, I smiled, a concerned frown planted on my brows, “but I might have just also taken a liking in you”

“That’s the thing: I have taken a liking in you too. That’s why I realized more quickly this time, that this thing that I keep doing is just such an asshole move. I’m sorry”

“It’s ok-“

“No! It’s not ok.”, he interrupted me. The pain he had in his eyes almost hurt: I had never seen him so serious and broken, “I didn’t want to be like this. Not with you anyways. I know It’s not impressive or great. Yet that has been planted in my brain for so long. Like a tumor you can’t get rid of. And I just don’t know how to be different. How to connect to others my age that way.”

“But you do. You’ve shown who you are. You see: Getting out of a habit is a process. There are high and low points. Moments where you succeed and some where you slip again. But eventually you won’t slip at all. It’s a matter of patience and, you could say, practice. But eventually: eventually you’ll be the version you’ve always aspired to be”

He looked at me directly now. His gaze struck deep as he gifted me the most honest and cozy kind of smile he had ever mustered up, “How are you this understanding and patient with me? How do I deserve it?”

“I love you, that’s-“, I interrupted myself as he stood up in an abrupt motion and stared at me with his eyes wide open.

“Oh”, I whispered, “I slipped”, I said out loud, “that confession was way too sudden. Sorry”

He ignored my blabbering and asked instead, with a voice as quiet as a mouse, “When did you plan on telling me that?”

I chuckled saying, “probably never”, and averted my eyes as quickly as I could.

“So, it took us falling into a cave and an accidental deep talk huh?”, he said, seeming a little stunted at it all.

“I mean: I was afraid. I’ve always been someone afraid of rejection and I didn’t think you’d like me. And you apparently-“

“Do”, he interrupted me. Now I was the wide eyed one.

“I’ve been afraid too. And not even that cave made me slip You just seemed too kind, too smart for me”

“Oh wow”, I could only say.

I stood up as well again now.

The wind was cool down here and with the sun setting. The pink and red hues of the sun set crept down the hole and lay on Kenji like a bright shadow surrounding him making the moment even more surreal. He literally looked like I was looking at him through rose colored glasses.

I had to chuckle. Luckily, that loosened the tension and he laughed back.

Kenji dared to step forward now. He came closer and closer until I could feel his hot breath on my face. I looked up at him curious and expectant. He gave me that look with half lidded eyes, knitted eyebrows that suggested a certain gesture.

I closed my eyes and led myself be led by the motion he had initiated until I could feel soft lips on mine. A moment I thought I could only ever dream of had settled and I felt at peace.

“There you are! Guys I found them, they are more than fine!”, Kenji and me suddenly heard Sammy yell.

We broke apart quickly, a little embarrassed to be caught in the moment of our first kiss, yet very happy to be found.

We looked up where we saw Sammy and Bumpy standing. One second later Ben followed who scratched Bumpy’s head and whispered something I could decipher as “good girl”. Bumpy apparently was the one who had discovered us.

At last, the others came as well, who brought a big rope with them.

“Come on you guys. I fear we got to leave the motorcycle behind, but we’ll get you out in no time”, Yaz said and we kept it at that.

And in a matter of second we were up again, holding hands as we stood before our rescue squad.

Brooklynn smiled, “I knew it”

“I can’t believe I didn’t believe you. Again!”, Sammy had to laugh as well, “but there they were smooching it away”

“We were not smooching”, I pouted

“Wait: You two?”, Ben and Darius asked in chorus.

“Am I really the only one who noticed? Come on guys!”, Brooklynn asked. We all laughed at that heartily.

I had to give it to her: She really had a feeling for people. Not even I had noticed his feelings for me or vice versa.

“And that’s why you are the unboxing girl and not us”, Kenji chuckled.

“Very funny Kenji”, Brooklynn retorted, “but seriously: It took you both to fall into a freaking hole to confess. You both are chicken”

To back up that point both Darius and Ben made chicken noises at which Sammy laughed and Yaz rolled her eyes, but with an endeared smile as she looked at Sammy laughing.

‘Those two should confess too’, I thought but kept it to myself: They’d figure it out eventually.

“Ok enough of us and kissing in a cave…hole…cave-hole”, Kenji announced, “let’s get home”

“Let’s do”, I smiled.

‘Best accident ever!’, I thought, and I’d like to think, so did Kenji…

(I hope you liked it!) (please leave feedback if possible. Also: Feel free to send requests for one shots if there is something specific you’d like to read in regards to Kenji x reader fanfics (though I won’t accept every suggestion if its about something I have little to no experience with I hope you understand <3. With that I wish y’all a great day!)

[20thcentury-kylo]

Tides Of Memory

(prologue)

Well here it is- sorry this has taken me so long, I'm not really the best artist n such but here is The prologue chapter to Tides Of Memory 

                                                          Enjoy~ 

Sometimes.... he still dreams of their words... 

"Just breathe- it'll all be fine🎶" 

Delicate melodies offset by somber guitar strums... The lyrics plague his memory, repeating in endless loops. Strangely enough he feels something similar in his current state. 

Alas the boy assumes that's all they are- bizarre, sorrowful dreams. 

Xx

To Kiome, Ebisu is the closest thing he has to a home. The smiles of his rosé haired boyfriend made him feel more at home, than any foster family could. Ebisu was his tether, the source of the light in his eyes- He was without a doubt the love of Kiome's life. Even more so now as gazes up at the aspiring musician, listening to the slow harmony of the boy's soft tones... 

"I knocked on your bedroom door, and waited for you to enter~" He knows to cherish these moments, etch them deep within his heart to captivate him forever... Ebisu with his eyes closed absently guiding his hand from note to note, sings the soft tune. The song which he curiously named San Diego, is one of goodbyes, and wistful memories. Yet he plays it in such a way that one cannot help but to have hope, it's a feeling Kiome understands all too well. 

"I bought you a crimson rose, smelled just like you did~" The feeling washes over him in a soft murmur, and the boy decides that he should do something about the space between them. Face to face, heart to heart- his lips utter nothing but his eyes speak a thousand ballads in a silent attempt to intertwine his soul even further with his beloved. A slightly shaken hand reaches to cradle the musician's cheek, the subsequent blush from Ebisu spurring him on further. Their lips meet in a soft meld, fluttering beats pulling one another closer. And amidst the safe stillness of that lamp lit bedroom- he feels... they both feel- complete. 

--- 

"Daring- I love you🎶~" 

Learning of his power, and his true destiny.. Kiome almost lost it all. The fear of losing what little he had in froze him- What if he couldn't win, what if he couldn't protect them all. Such worries cloud his mind, there is no confidence in the subtle whispers of his newly acquired sword. But of course not, they do not hold the voice of his beloved. So as the swordsman sits paled in moonlight, he thinks of nothing but their voice. 

"If only we could fly across the nether~" A subtle smile of relief finds its way onto Kiome's expression. He scoots over, making room for Ebisu to sit with him. 

"Hey... how are ya holdin up?" The question forces a sigh from his lips... they're trembling. 

"I won't lie- I'm... scared out of my mind right now.." Ebisu reaches for his hand, and Kiome can feel the tremors in his soul calm at the contact. Gradually all the doubts he'd been suppressing float to the surface and out through his stuttered words. 

"I-I just- don't wanna forget you, wherever I end up." They're on borrowed time, and he can hear each Jarring tick pass them by. Stray tears escape the poor boy's eyes, he's trying to stay strong, if not for himself then for Ebisu. His own depressing thoughts are cut short by the warm embrace of his partner. 

"I Promise- You won't!!" It's a declaration that could pierce the heavens, Kiome notices that he's started to tear up as well yet says nothing.

Ebisu pulls back- flush faced yet Smiling nonetheless. His breaths are shaking, and his words flitter out sporadically, but Kiome knows- he knows and he couldn't be more thankful. 

"No matter what happens to us- to our memories..." He's suddenly quiet, his features holding a wistful hope. Kiome can't help but awe at how beautiful he is. 

"No matter what- every song I've written, every note, every memory... they'll be right here- etched in my heart.." Ebisu gazes at him with a look that peers straight into his core, he means this... And the embrace that follows is almost too poetic for words. 

"Ditto~" Kiome swears on this life, and every past life he's apparently had- he'd never forget this for as long as his existence still burned. 

--- 

The 1st thing that comes to him is the overwhelming burning stench as he looks upon the scene before him. They'd come for him. This was it- nowhere for Kiome to run. He steels himself with thoughts of his beloved, gripping his sword tighter. 

"Darling~ I love you🎶~" 

Ebisu was safe.. he'd made sure of that before ever considering this fated clash. If he survived this... he just might have to marry the ocean eyed musician. It gives him the will to move forward- When he survived this, he was definitely marrying him. The voices whispering from within his sword hum in agreement, giving him the confidence he needs to charge into danger. He couldn't die here- not when he had someone to live for. 

-- 

The beast's endless roars are all but deaf to him. Kiome stands, eyes burning bright. This is it- do or die... His sword rests firmly in his grasp- his strength does not waver, even for a moment. Each step is another reminder of what he's fighting for- each strike he bears the shock in stride, like hell was he gonna fall here... 

His body may betray his intentions- writhing with bloodied bruises and aching muscles.. But his heart can't give up now- his very soul screams out in defiance. The exception before him seems to hear this cry- as it stumbles back before giving a scream of its own. 

And as he braces himself to fight on.. the words echo ever so clearly in his head 

'Darling- I love you~" 

-- 

"Kiome!! Please... stay with me-" He can't feel his body anymore... 

Ebisu sits there- cradling the dying body of his beloved- blood covered, and practically torn to pieces... his eyes won't open. 

"Kiome!!" Ebisu's presence is the only thing keeping him from letting go completely... He wants to see his face.. To tell him not to weep for the foolish.. 

"I'm here.." Opening his eyes sends surges of blinding pain through his retinas.. but the moment that pink hair and rosy cheeks come into view- such pain is all but forgotten. He can't hear the exception anymore- guess he must've won. Then again... at what cost. 

"Why so sad.." Ebisu won't stop crying- and the sight of it brings tears to his own eyes. Suddenly the reality that he probably won't survive this  hits him all at once, and it's only through sheer exhaustion that he doesn't break down weeping then and there. Instead he sighs with a shaky breath, and gazes into his beloved's eyes for what he thinks to be the last time... 

"My time here is running short🎶" Ebisu's expression shifts, before he graces the dying boy with a tearful smile... 

"Your kisses were my ambrosia🎶"Ebisu leans down and lays a soft kiss onto Kiome's forehead- Kiome can feel a tear drop ever so slowly... 

"They melted into my skin🎶" A soft light begins to emerge from Kiome's core. This... was the end. He doesn't take his eyes off Ebisu for a moment- he'd burn the image of his beautiful face into his heart.. so he'd never forget.. 

"Darling... I love you" 

Xx 

The subtle morning light peaks through the dorm windows- rousing it's residents from slumber. He opens his eyes to find that they're wet with tears... 

'Again huh-'Kiome has had the same dream for the 3rd time this week. Of places he's never been, of people he's never met... of love he's never felt. But they're just dreams- he muses to himself. They meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Yet as he prepares for the day- eating his breakfast that Shiro so graciously prepared and brushing his teeth before heading to class- a strangely familiar tune remains stuck in his head... 

"I knocked on your bedroom door🎶~"He wonders where he could've heard it...

-PROLOGUE END-

Once again im really sorry for this taking so long- anywho i hope you enjoyed, i plan to update this semi frequently with a few drawings to complement each chapter (ReBlogs and Comments Are very much appreciated I wanna hear what you guys think uwu)

~Till Next Chapter~

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Part 15!!

Present-day:

Beads of sweat trickled down Jason’s forehead as he frantically worked to decrypt the file. He had been working on it for nearly an hour and so far he’d had no luck. Every time he’d get close to cracking the code, there'd be some phrase of letters left that didn’t make any sense. He knew he was running out of time and had to hurry. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and kept going. Another minute passed, then five minutes, fifteen minutes. Jason intensely scrutinized and analyzed every letter, trying to come up with another possible code pattern that would decrypt the file. 

Okay…looks like it’s a Caesar Cipher. Shifted down by twelve….please dear God let this work.

Jason quickly typed another command on the laptop and anxiously waited. His heart began to race as all the incoherent phrases began to transform into actual words and sentences. 

There in front of him was Dalmar’s plan, outlined step by step. His plan for running for higher offices. Building his network and support bases. Acquiring more weapons. And ultimately seizing power. Even more importantly, the location of the weapons was laid out in the document. 

Jason felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he’d deciphered the pattern yet kicked himself that hadn’t cracked such a simple code sooner. He figured his nerves had got the best of him but he couldn’t help but be angry at himself. He’d lost a great deal of time, time he couldn’t afford to lose. Jason suspected Dalmar or one of his men had encrypted the file manually as it was amateur work. A skilled professional or person with a knowledge of computers would have used encryption software such as AES which would have converted the plaintext contained in the file into ciphertext. Rendering it impossible for Jason to decrypt the file without entering in a specific password. He picked up his pen, pressed the top metal bottom on the side, and snapped several pictures of the file. 

From the looks of this the weapons should be located…in a bunker a few miles north of here. He quickly encrypted the file again, excited the file, and closed the laptop. He picked it up and inserted it back into the drawer just as he'd found it. He placed the pen back in his pocket. Jason closed the office door and headed back down the tunnel shaft. Now that he had the intel they needed all they had to do was make it through the rest of the gala. He already had been gone a great deal of time and knew that the longer he was gone the greater chance he’d be caught or that Dalmar would be suspicious of him and Tasha. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

…..

The black limousine made its way down the winding road that encircled Dalmar’s estate. As they drove Dalmar pointed out to Tasha the various structures and amenities that graced his home. The guest house, its exterior resembling that of the main house with an assortment of glass, wood, and chrome. The tennis courts and lavish swimming pool. And the rose garden, all the flowers coming together in a rainbow of color and releasing a sweet scent into the air.

Inside the confines of the limo, Dalmar placed his arm around Tasha and pointed in the direction of the greenhouse. “And over there is the greenhouse.”

“My goodness, I’ve never seen such a large one before.”

“My mother, loved plants, especially flowers. I suppose I inherited that love from her.”

“I never would have guessed that you would have such a fondness for flowers.” Tasha teased. 

“Their strength yet delicateness is something to behold. And of course their beauty.”

Tasha forced a smile. “I’ve never met someone who has spoken to me… or makes me feel the way you do.”

“Beauty is meant to be appreciated and treasured. You, my dear, are a shining jewel.”

Tasha stood there frozen, speechless, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or-“

“No, no. It’s just I’m used to guarding...my feelings. Taking things slower…but being here with you…it feels different.”

“I’m glad.” Dalmar smiled and took Tasha’s hand. “This has been one of the happiest nights of my life.” The car suddenly came to a stop, causing him to release Tasha’s hand, for which she was relieved. 

“We’re here.” The chauffeur announced.

Tasha peered out the tinted windows of the car yet didn’t see any structure or buildings in the distance. She turned back to Dalmar. “Here?” she asked, a quizzical expression on her face. 

“You’ll see.” He grinned. Tasha and Dalmar exited the limo and walked to the front of the car. 

“Right this way.” Dalmar motioned in front of him. The two of them began making their way forward through the woods. Tasha found it somewhat difficult to walk as her heels kept getting bogged down in the ground. She did her best to conceal it from Dalmar. The last thing she needed was for him to offer her his hand, holding it once had been more than enough for her. 

Soon they arrived at what appeared to be an electrical substation. They reached a metal fence, all over which were signs posted that read “Danger. High voltage.” Dalmar entered a passcode into a security keypad and a metal gate rolled to the side.

 “After you.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled.

They went through the entrance, the gate closing behind them. After walking to the control house, Dalmar typed in another code on the keypad located on the door handle. “I believe inside you’ll find something that you’ve had your eyes on.” Tasha felt her heart begin to race as the door unlocked and Dalmar turned the handle. 

Tasha stepped inside the room, followed by Dalmar. The lights flashed on showing a stairwell a few feet in front of them. At the end of the stairs, there was a hallway, with a metal door located at its end. Dalmar punched in another password on the keypad. Tasha heard a metallic click and the door slowly slid to the side. 

Tasha let out a small gasp as they entered the concrete bunker. From the floor to the rafters, the room was filled with an assortment of weapons. Machine guns, automatic rifles, ammunition, surface-to-air missiles, and even a few tanks. “Wow,” she said softly in awe. “This is incredible.” 

“Even better than you imagined?”

“Yes.” She slowly spun around to get a complete view of the room. “Other girls like flowers or chocolate. A trip to Tahiti,” she laughed, “but me…this is my life, right here. My happy place.”

“I can see that.”

“From the moment I met you I could immediately tell you were a man with great ambition. And in my line of work I’ve met many people with the same fire in their eyes…but somehow, it’s hard to explain, I knew you were different.”

“Different, how so?”

“Others may have had the same ambition as you but I felt in my soul that you were destined to become something. To do great things. To leave your mark on humanity. Many aspire to such things but few accomplish them. I believe, with my whole heart, that you are among the few.”

“I’m glad to hear you believe so. I for my part have always held that I would be among the great men of history. These past years I’ve dedicated all my time and resources to this goal and now I’m on the eve of achieving it.”

“The eve? You’ve said many times now that you’re on the eve of your dream becoming reality. That your goal is about to happen soon.”

“Yes. I have.”

“The question is when exactly is ‘soon?’ It’s such a relative term. For some it’s a few years, others a couple of months, or perhaps even a few minutes. When is it for you?” Tasha pressed him for more details. “If you decided to tell me…” she took a breath, “not only about when you intend to enforce your plan but its entirety, it would mean the world to me. To know that out of all the billions of people in this world I was enough…for you to completely confide in.”

“You can be very persistent. When you want to be.”

“I try my best.”

“I’m sure by now you’ve heard of my political party the KLF and my run for parliament.”

“Yes. I am aware.”

“Initially when I announced my run to be a member of parliament I did plan to win power by legitimate means. Start at the bottom and work my way up so to speak.”

“I assume eventually becoming prime minister.”

“Exactly, but as time has passed I realize that I can’t wait. I have to act now. This country is at the brink of collapse, of being internally ripped apart until it fails to exist. It is hard to believe now but centuries ago this country used to be one of the shining jewels of the world. Trade and the economy flourished. Money poured into the nation. The military was one of the most formidable forces on earth. Most importantly power was centralized in the hands of the Sargis family. But over time the country was stripped of its former glory at the hands of upcoming nations, as they attacked Krudia again and again. The Sargis dynasty crumbled and the economy is nowhere near as prosperous as it once had been. Recently, due to famine and political instability, the country has fallen into economic ruin.  Looking at a map today, compared to other countries, Krudia is merely a speck of land. But hundreds of years ago it was nearly ten times the size it is today. My goal is to restore Krudia to its former glory and in the process be immortalized in history. The only way for that to happen is by force as many unfortunately are against radical change.”

Tasha crossed her arms. “I can’t imagine why. Unless they enjoy starving to death.”

“In my eyes, they’re merely a nuisance.” He scoffed. “One that won’t exist for much longer. Next week, once your weapons have arrived, I plan to establish myself as the new president of Krudia.”

“I knew you were ambitious…but this. I never dreamed I’d do business with a future president.”

“Thanks to your weapons. All my goals for this nation will become reality. The nations surrounding our borders will be forced to comply with my wishes. To surrender the land that originally was part of Krudia. Nations will be forced to their knees and to fulfill my demands. Otherwise, they’ll be obliterated. With me as its leader, Krudia, not only will be restored to the height of its power but become the greatest nation on earth. Imagine me as its leader and…you be my side.”

Tasha found herself taken aback by his words. The way Dalmar mentioned threatening nuclear destruction without even a second thought sent chills up and down her spine. In some ways when dancing and dining the evening away it was easy to forget who the man was who stood in front of her. A deranged and disgusting psychopath. She swallowed, trying to find the words. “I-I can’t imagine it.”

“The thought, it’s a lot to take in isn’t it?”

“It certainly is…but as I said before you are destined for remarkable things.”

“Now is there anything else…you want? Anything at all you can think of, just name it.”

I really have this guy wrapped around my finger. At least I was able to use it to my advantage. “Just one thing. Another dance…with you.”

“There’s no music.” He stretched his arms out. 

She shook her head. “Not here. Back at the main house.”

“As you wish, mi corazón.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Which part? Mi corazón or as you wish?”

“Both. But especially as you wish.”

Dalmar and Tasha each laughed as they headed back towards the stairwell. As she climbed into the car, Tasha felt a sense of relief wash over. She’d gotten the information they needed. All she had to do was keep up her cover, despite how difficult it was increasingly becoming. She hoped Jason would be back at the house by the time she and Dalmar returned. That is if he had not run into any trouble. Tasha quickly silenced those thoughts for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. She knew thinking about Jason being caught, without knowing if that was actually true, would do neither of them any good. As they settled back in the car Dalmar once again wrapped his arm around Tasha. Tasha inwardly rolled her eyes, her annoyance with Dalmar’s enchantment with her growing every second. It’s good. You can do this. She told herself. Just so long as he doesn’t propose.

…..

Jason quietly made his way through the tunnel into the lab report room. In front, he could see the door that led to the hall, off of which was the stairwell. That stairwell led to the first corridor, beyond which lay the door to the outside. The last thing he needed was to get caught especially after all he’d done to get this far. 

As Jason began to exit the room a piercing shriek filled the room, followed by a succession of agonizing screams. It had come from the door on the left side of the aisle, the room he had seen the two security guards enter earlier. Jason then heard words come from a man, who sounded as though he was in excruciating pain. “Please stop. I won’t speak out against Dalmar again. I swear.” 

“I’m afraid once is one time too many” came another man’s voice, that sounded like Tarek. 

He could only imagine the horrifying scenes unfolding in that room. Jason knew that in becoming an agent he would see and hear horrific and tragic things, see the worst sides of people. Every day in training new agents were debriefed on this issue and how to respond. How not to let it affect them or their actions, but to continue to carry on with their mission. Their instructors would ask them what was more important. Saving one person at the expense of the entire operation or choosing to save more lives by keeping their cover intact? For Jason that was a question he didn’t want to answer. Losing one life was one too many. However, in this world, you had to put aside your own beliefs and values for the sake of national security. At least that was what he’d been told by his superiors. He couldn’t do what Jason Allen Whittaker would do. He had to do what 1131 would do. Jason knew that right now he had to push his thoughts aside and press on. No matter what, Dalmar could not carry out his plan. He had to succeed on this mission, failure wasn’t an option. Even still it took every ounce of his willpower to not intervene. 

Jason suddenly froze, in the doorway, as he heard the sound of a gunshot. He then saw the door across from him begin to open. Frantically he ducked back into the lab report room, praying he hadn’t been spotted. He pressed as close as he could against a wall and stood as still as possible. From across the hall, he saw Tarek and three other men, two of them the same guards he had followed, exit through the door. Two of the men helped to drag a man's bloody and mutilated body out of the room. As they dragged him through the hall on the ground his blood smeared all across on the concrete floor. A brutal testament to the pain and unspeakable suffering he had endured. 

His Grandpa Harold would tell him that there are moments in a person’s life that would come back to haunt them. Fill them with what-ifs and doubts. Make them wonder if they should have done more or made a different choice. As he exited the warehouse Jason knew this was such a time. He was no longer a little boy with an innocent view of the world. This moment had reminded him once again how cruel and heartless people could be. How much evil there was in the world. All Jason knew was he had to bring Dalmar to justice. No matter what it took.

[superworldunkown]

SAY WHA??: Prologue

AN: Fun fact about me, I am a runner. So you bet your booty when that MHA ‘He will Meet the Three Musketeers’ teaser image came out, ya girl took that and RAN with it. Right into headcanon territory. I tired to use as much as I know from reading the manga, so there are spoilers of the War Arc/Dabi reveal/My Lady My Queen Midnight/Bakugou rising (aka finally showing some signs of positive emotional intelligence growth)/etc. I will also be mixing in my own OCs and thoughts on the meaning behind the WHA patches on their uniforms and what happens during this moving. And yes, Bakugou will be about that melanin. I’ll try to post every two weeks but…I am TERRIBLE at timeframes. Also, IDK what to call this, so right now it’s “Say WHA?” lol

Anyways, enjoy BBs.

Chapter 1: The Aftermath is only the beginning

Bakugou should have never jumped in front of Deku. Yes, he said it. And no, it wasn’t about the heroic act in itself or the public admittance that he does give a shit (albeit tiny shit) about that Damn Nerd. It was the fact that now, in the midst of the aftermath, everyone was looking for a hero. And, for some reason, everyone was looking at him.

The three weeks after The War with the Paranormal Liberation Army was nothing short of a blur. After intense healing and barely out of his stiches, he, Deku and Todoroki were immediately thrown into the media spotlight only to quickly be yanked back into the dark by All Might and the Hero Commission. There was so much to answer for, but no one seemed to know what to say. The Hero Comission went to work on damage control, class was suspended. Bakugou just focused on getting full mobility back to his arm. He didn’t want to think about anything else or unpack any emotions. But, swallowing his emotions was becoming more difficult with each passing day.

Everyone was clinging onto him. At Midnight’s funeral, Kirishima cried into his shoulder. Bakugou stayed silent, just letting it happen. After all, Kirishima, Mina, and Momo were the first ones that found their teacher lying breathless on the battlefield. Even if Bakugou couldn’t form the words to console his friend, the least he could do was be the strong shoulder to cry on. Even though he was breaking on the inside.

Then, of course, Deku. Despite the insane amount of growth and power his childhood friend had acquired in their first year at U.A, he was still a self-shaming masochist in the making (much like the explosion hero himself). Deku went into a week long shame spiral, blaming every death on his lack of ability to take down Shigaraki and his weakness for seeing someone that still needed saving.

He too broke down in front of Bakugou, blaming himself for the scars that graced the blond boy’s chest and shoulder. “I should have been stronger. I should have been able to save and win. I didn’t do either. I can’t make this power my own when I can’t even save the people I care about-“

Despite the emotional growth Bakugou had undertaken, he was still Bakugou. But instead of outright knocking Deku into a wall he merely shoved the boy so hard he fell back in a chair and snarled, “I’d beat your ass right now but somehow I’d think you’d enjoy that. Blame yourself for any of this in front of me again and I’ll blow your ass up so fast they’ll find pieces of you in different time zones.” Yeah, he still needed to work on his bedside manner.

Todoroki was another story. The boy hadn’t said a word, a single word in three weeks. He made himself scarce, stayed in his dorm despite everyone being ushered home to be with their families. Who could blame him? The media was in a frenzy over the reveal of Toya Todoroki and the public announcement of his father’s crimes and abuse. Todoroki didn’t even attend Midnight’s funeral. Bakugou wasn’t sure if it was Todoroki’s decision not to draw attention to the sensitive matter, or the Hero Commission. Bakugou was really starting to hate the Hero Commission.

They were protecting Endeavor with all the power and influence they had, but leaving Todoroki to defend himself.

Bastards.  

Both Deku and Bakugou had tried, in their own ways to engage their Icy Hot friend, but it was no use. Deku tried inviting him to his mother’s to stay over, ecen offering cold soba for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Todoroki never responded to the message.

Bakugou, in true Bakugou fashion, tried kicking down his door and challenging him to a fight, only to find a giant wall of sharp icicles dangerously close to his body. After blasting them for 10 minutes, he got the hint and left him be.

There was so much to cleanup between the three of them. They were all broken in their own ways. But, as much as time stood still at certain moments, things began to move on and forward. 

And now, here they all were, standing on a runway at the early hours of the morning for a new mission that none of them had any idea about.

“The Hero committee thanks you three for your assistance with this rather important mission.” The president spoke. She dressed in all black, looking extra serious. And in Bakugou’s mind, evil as shit.

“Yeah, you didn’t give us much of a choice,” Bakugou grumbled while clutching the handle of his suitcase.

“We’re happy to be of assistance,” Midoriya answered, “But, um, can I ask where we’re going?”

“Due to the recent events and,” The president treaded carefully, “unforeseen revelations….The Hero Committee has partnered with international hero departments across the globe to form a united front against villains from all nations. We have formed the WHA. The World Hero Alliance. With a focus on the heroes of the future each Hero Commission has selected their brightest and bravest hero’s to represent Japan’s hero effort.”

Bakugou looked at Todoroki, who was currently staring at the ground, and then to Midoriya before speaking, “So you’re sending us? What are we, show horses or something?! I thought we were going to kick some ass!”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The president’s response caused Bakugou’s eyes to raise slightly, “You three were not at the top of our list. However you were personally recommended by All Might himself and we owe him quite the debt for his commitment to the cleanup the past few weeks.”

“Sorry I’m late everyone.” All Might’s voice cut through the rather thick air. The skinny man dressed in his usual oversize suit, the darkness around his eyes looking extra black and fatigued. All Might had been spending every waking moment on all the news channels reassuring the public of their faith in heroes and in Endeavour, the still number 1 hero.

“Young Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoro-“

“Shouto. Just Shouto.”

Damn, he finally speaks! And those three words managed to hit All Might, and Deku, and Bakugou with such force you would think he himself had inherited One for All.

“Right uh…Shoto. I’m so glad you all could make it. You all have your passports, licenses, and everything? Don’t worry about your hero costumes, I had some new ones created for you all to wear during the events.”

“Can anyone explain where the hell we’re going and what the fuck we’re doing?!” Damn, someone had to say it.

All Might let out a small laugh, “We’re headed to the first Annual World Hero Alliance in The United States. Los Angeles to be exact.”

“The…The… THE UNITED STATES?!” It was like the sadness washed out of Deku, revealing the eager, bright eyed hero student, and complete fanboy, “Where you became a hero?!”

“That’s right, kid. I’ll explain everything on the jet.”

Midoriya was already rushing up the flight stairs, leaving Bakugou and Shouto on the runway. Bakugou didn’t know what to do. He could tell Icy Hot was a hot mess of emotion, despite his emotionless demeanor. His natural instinct was to shake/threaten/beat the sadness out of his classmate, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be effective.

“I know why you’re looking at me like that.” Shouto spoke, his eyes facing forward to the jet, “And no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine. Let’s just…get this this stupid mission over with.” With that he walked forward and boarded the jet.

Fuck. Bakugou secretly hopped the WHA, or whatever it was called would get overrun by villains, as most of their missions/trips do. At least he would have someone to blast into smithereens that deserved it.

 AN: Alright. Just a teaser here.  I’m so excited to introduce you to The 3 aspiring heroes of The United States in the next chapter. My OCs. I can’t reveal much yet (honestly, I’m still test driving hero names). But, so excited regardless. I’ll post the next chapter by in the coming days.

[kittensjonsa]

When you watch something (not telling you what it is) and it screams Jonsa and won't let you rest until you let it out.. another sub/Dom jonsa fic with Sansa holding the whip this time.

Summary: Sansa has deep seated issues she needs to work on thanks to a recent trauma from being mugged in an alley. But sometimes, it takes more than just therapy. BDSM-ish.

One-shot, I leave the rest to your imagination because I think.. we all have different versions how this could go.. 💦 and unfortunately, I am not a good enough writer to explore these visions and putting them into words lol.

Safe Word

Dove.

Little bird. Those are the words that spring to mind as Sansa sees the forms before her. It is strange, having to fill out forms and giving strangers a piece of her life before she gives all of herself to another. Well, almost.

He did come highly recommended. Sansa looks out the window from the lounge sofa she finds too comfortable to be filling out forms in.

Also, this is a sex club.

“You will keep my details private, right? I mean, I'm here because.. you know,” Sansa's voice trails off, wondering if she should explain at all. The lady with bright purple hair and blonde streaks looks up from Sansa's forms, only to smile at her, subtly hinting how she has encountered many a red-faced first timers like Sansa. Only thing, this time it's different. I'm different. Not like the rest, Sansa mumbles in a small voice in her mind.

“Miss Stark, I can assure you have our strictest confidence. Besides, your therapist made a call earlier this week to let us know about… your case. Don't worry, she didn't say anything, she just asked for Jon to help you. And that's enough for us to know. And, yes this is only between you and us,” the lady assures, the piercing on her lower lip quivering as she smiles again at Sansa.

Oh right, yes. My case.

Sansa nods and glances at the black tinted glass doors behind the counter. Sansa wonders what awaits her, come the day when it beckons.

“We'll give you a call once we've set up your appointment. You'll hear from us in a few days.”

Sansa heaves a sigh of relief and manages a polite grin. “Right, thank you. I'll.. wait for your call then, Miss Val,” Sansa addresses her after a quick glance at the name plate. Val nods and waves her goodbye and calls for the next one in line. Sansa gathers herself and leaves, regretting what fresh hell she had gotten herself into.

The hours ticked by at first when Sansa found herself in bed and staring at the ceiling. When sleep finally came, the nightmares took over. Sansa had tried everything from herbs, to tinctures and sleeping aids. None helped, because none of these, not even the anti-anxiety medication gave her the peace that was robbed from her, one fateful night in an alley. There were so many things Sansa realised, in retrospect, how the night could have gone differently. If she had taken the train instead of walking to the bus stop, if she went home on time instead of staying back an hour later, if she hadn't answered that goddamned phone call from her ex. But it only wrecked her inside and turned her stomach into knots every time she walks down that particular memory lane. Six months later, Sansa still finds herself in her nightmares, crawling in that alley, bruised, battered and mugged.

Seeing a therapist was the last resort. Describing and reliving the experience again was painful but gradually it eased, no longer was Sansa sobbing at the end of a session, thanks to Dr Carr, her therapist whom had provided an outlet Sansa didn't know she needed. Slowly, the sessions grew less arduous. The nightmares lessened somewhat though haven't ceased completely. Perhaps it was only thing that caused great concern, seeing what little sleep she'd been getting. Six months since a deep, restful sleep, Sansa recalls.

“There's a deep anger that needs to be resolved. Pure rage that I feel needs to be addressed here, Sansa. As someone, I think, who rarely expresses such an emotion, I can imagine this must be quite difficult for you,” Dr Carr suggests, tapping the end of her pen onto her notepad. Sansa sighed as she brushes off some imaginary fluff from her skirt.

“Might I suggest something? You might think this is quite strange but I feel it can be freeing for you. It's.. an acquired taste and you don't have to if you don't want to but perhaps you may want to consider letting all this anger out? On someone.. who is willing?”

Sansa raises her eyebrow at the 'willing' part. “You mean find someone to beat up?”

A wistful tilt of the head tells Sansa only one thing. “I don't recommend this method to anyone but I feel that you, Sansa, will find that it helps. I'll write down the address so you can decide for yourself. Now, before you say anything, I'd like you to approach this with an open mind. As open as you can possibly be.”

“What is it that you suggest, Dr Carr? I'm all ears.”

An address with a name. Jon Snow. Château Noir. Sansa answers back with a questioning glance. Sounds mysterious. Another therapist? Am I that hopeless?

“He's highly recommended. I heard of him from someone in my circle. He does… very particular work. And he has helped one of my former patients it seems, last I heard. So, moving forward.. I think you might want to try him.”

To do what exactly? This is uncharted territory. Sansa's mind wanders off to the darkest bits she was brave enough to muster.

“He's.. a provider of services for a small part of the community, whom I suppose require an outlet for their.. inclinations.”

Sansa's eyes widens at the statement and Dr Carr quickly adds, “Please, bear in mind that I do not in any way think that you have such inclinations but rather, been pushed against your own free will to a corner you no longer have space to move in. And it is affecting you more than you can cope. Am I right to say that? And I think one of the ways we can break out of that space.. is to face it head on, in a safe and controlled environment. I heard he's very professional. Would you at least think about it?”

Seven o'clock. As always, she is on the dot. Sansa fidgets with her jacket, hoping she was properly dressed for .. her meeting. A good sized room filled with contraptions Sansa thought she'd only seen in movies. The kind with mediaeval torture segments. Sansa quickly realises how this was probably a bad idea. But she had paid for it, that and also not wanting to face a disappointed Dr Carr, after the arrangements she had made.

Together, they both had made good progress; this is just a step further, she thinks. Still, torture devices aside, it was a cozy room otherwise for conversation if nothing happens. If she doesn't want anything to happen, that is. Sansa finds some small comfort how the lighted candles seem to brighten up the otherwise dim room, and a soft scent lingers in the air. Sandalwood? Rose? Sansa tries to guess, occupying herself while waiting.

The door creaks. A head of inky black curls and a boyish smile greets her. Sansa gasps. He isn't at all like how she imagined. And good-looking. Dr Carr didn’t mention that. 

“You must be Sansa Stark. From Dr Carr's office?”

Sansa nods and gingerly reaches out to meet his hand. She quickly looks away, out of courtesy. Perhaps also out of shyness and embarrassment. Quite the impression, and straight to business.

The harness strapped across his broad sinewy shoulders and chest made her jaw drop. And the crotchless leather trousers. Good thing he has briefs on, as Sansa's eyes dart back to the floor.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Jon Snow. And I'll be your sub tonight. At your service, whatever you need.”

Sansa sucks in a deep breath and blinks at the sight before her. All right no conversations then. Willing party. For fuck's sake, get over yourself and get it over with.

“Umm.. okay. Right.. oh, do you have.. a safe word?” Sansa remembers to ask, putting her bag down and removing her stifling jacket. He smiles again, his eyes shining in the poor light of the room. They gleam with anticipation. Somehow, Sansa had a feeling he had been waiting for her arrival, the moment she stepped into his lair. His castle. Strangely, not an ounce of fear filled her body, but something else entirely. Something hot and heady, as her breathing quickens.

“Well, thank you for asking. I do have one. It's.. crow.”

Sansa watches him slide across the room to a standing handle bar that stood chest high. A pair of shackles sit ominously on the handle, waiting to clamp on the next poor soul.

“Okay. But.. hold on. Don't you want to ask me questions? Sorry this is my first time, I don't know how this works,” Sansa apologizes as Jon stands behind the handle bar.

“Ahh, yes of course. But later, if you'd like. Sometimes, thinking about it, hampers.. the process. I know it is your first time. Don't worry, I'll lead you into it. Just.. tell me what you want to do, how do you feel and why you're here. At least that gets the ball rolling, no?”

“Well.. well-I'm here because I need to let some anger out,” Sansa stammers, suddenly feeling very large, self-conscious and awkward.

“Okay.. and why are you angry? Did someone take something from you?” Jon prods, his voice and tone as soothing as Dr Carr's.

“Yes.. yes. And he hurt me... He beat me. He left me for dead in an alley.. I had to crawl home, no one helped me..”

Jon keeps quiet as he watches Sansa, his heart slightly heavy. Poor girl. All the more she needs this, he thinks.

Sansa stops, the rage Dr Carr was talking about had finally reared its head. Ugly and snarling and all Sansa wanted to do was to smash its head in. Indeed, this is exactly what she needs.

“Well then, Mistress. Shall we begin?”

Sansa looks up from the floor and sees Jon already shackled to the handle bar.

And a loosely coiled whip hanging at one end.

---

Note: Dr Wendy Carr is a character who is a psychologist on Mindhunter and I adore her (and aspire to be like her one day). So much so that she deserves a place in my fics lol. Sorry, she's not an oc 😂 if you're wondering.

[talthorn-sylvoran]

Shattered Acceptance

Day 4 - Breakthrough / Broken

Another beautiful, perfect day.

Looking over the exquisite home he shared, the arcanist takes a moment to appreciate this blissful feeling of pure happiness. Draped in the finest silks and furniture, it simply emanated of such refinement. Shelves of books upon books on all arrays of life and culture.

For a few quiet seconds, the man has questioning thoughts caress at his mind, Talthorn begins to flicker his blinking and thinking wondering about this uncertainty. Raising his hand to the adorned choker on his neck he wants to do something to clear away this fog in his head. 

"Talthorn? Are you alright my love?" An enchanting voice from behind him asks sweetly. 

Slowly the runeweaver turns to meet his lady's eyes and can feel the ease of attempting to come back. "For just for a moment I felt as if I could not remember something...." he admits to her gently. 

"Mm, I see." she glides up to him and takes his hand affectionately. "You've been suffering from those lapses again? I'll just have to help you. As I always do." she is already circling gentle methodic circles of spell over his hand. 

"You're wonderful, my jewel." he seems to slip into mild acceptance before he asks warmly. "....but I would hope you might help me recall.....how we came to be here...?"

Ellanore smiles at just as lovely as she always did, and comes to curve some of his silken silver hair over his ear. "Our home? Oh, it's been a while now. After we were married, we decided on this home together. So many days of distraction in our songs and dance." She laughs musically. 

Talthorn stares at her for a time in an unblinking fashion, his half smile still on his face. 

"You must not punish yourself in not remembering every detail, dearest. You know this has been an issue for you for a long time. All that matters is that we are together and we are living our life with one another as we always wanted." her hand sets on the choker with the glimmering gem in the center. 

"Yes..." Talthorn's thoughts become more clear to him again, and the charm of all of this returns. "Yes, of course." he returns to an endearing smile. 

"Good man. Now, are you ready for breakfast? I've made all your favorites again. We can discuss some of those writings we were reading together." she giggles at him and after a tender kiss begins to pull him away with her.

This is how many mornings would begin before melding into hobbies and studies. Music and laughter. Food and pleasures. Talthorn wanted for nothing and basked in love's glow in every step these days. However....

He knew something was not right.

There was no real rhyme or reason for him to question this life, other than for couple of weeks he had been feeling more disconnected. 

There was concern to think maybe he was becoming even more ill than his beloved wife had told him, but it was more than that. As if he could feel her lying to him. His mind was so foggy. He could not remember a time it had not been. He was supposed to be an accomplished arcanist, and yet there seemed to be this veil of restraint in what he knew. That seemed exceptionally odd. He would snap awake at night, with such peculiar thoughts in his head. About such incredible concepts on time and space. On how arcane energies could be channelled and projected. Theories on concepts that floated away in the morning hours or anytime Ellanore would follow him as he raced to the study.

There were always so many unanswered inquiries. Events and circumstances that he felt his lady would know, and yet did not. It was blamed on his condition, but there were too many inconsistencies to ignore. 

Every time he passed by a mirror, he stopped to look at his reflection viewing this shell of a person he was and wondered often if he even existed. There were times without his wife hovering, that he felt very different. Talthorn's eyes trail to the choker around his neck and with his fingers extending inside as it had many times before. This magic he wore felt so heavy. If he was slipping into madness or senility, then it wouldn't matter if he took this off. He would still be where he had always been. Here. In this flawless life. 

He wanted to take it off. 

He had tried to naturally before, with no success. He discovered it was bound with unique magic so he took it upon himself to find ways to remove it. Leaving himself notes in a secret ledger with what he could research and remember about dispelling illusion and spell breaking. It was not that those thoughts were ever robbed of him, but if there was the chance Ellanore was the source? He could not share with her his burning intentions.

After acquiring the last of the reagents he had been slowly collecting for this, he moves into the study to bring all of his efforts into realization tonight. His practiced hands and agile mind woves spell together with a grace that he had missed. The arcanist grasps this creation  and lets it blossom over his palm. His eyes sparkle with appreciation and excitement, thinking he was going to be alone to do this without detection.

He was wrong.

"Talthorn?" her flittering voice of concern seeps into him. 

The arcanist looks to meet his wife's eyes across the room with fondness. His hand continued to bathe in swirling magics. 

"What....are you doing?" she smiles back, trying not to show the alarm in her voice. 

"Solving a puzzle, my jewel." Talthorn studies his wife begin to slowly fracture in composure.

"Solving a....I don't know what you mean. Perhaps you can tell me about it...?" Ellanore's careful step forward. 

"I just need to know." the magi's voice aches horribly. He was so desperate for answers.  He felt he had always sought this way! 

The enchantress' eyes wide as her beloved reaches for the choker and her voice cracks in calling out his name again. "Talthorn! You....don't want to do this. Life will never be the same after. Truth will take away this happiness. Our happiness." her hand out, already trembling ready to try to counter what he might be doing.

Talthorn watches over her with his fingers curled in what felt like a tight collar. "I want truth over false happiness....." is his answer and before she can retaliate in anything...

There is a shattering of the spell and of the woman's soul before him. Her wail of despair echoes through the home and she plunges to the ground after failing her attempt to stop him. 

Talthorn gives the choker a firm yank and his mind is free! All of his memories, all of his fantastical thoughts! He released the collar and felt he could breathe again!

"Why....." she whimpers out to him. "Why couldn't you just let me....make you happy? Why could this not be enough? Why was I not enough?" Ellanore was limp and broken. 

Gradually looking at the slumped woman before him, his memories of the year they had spent together replayed over in his mind. Freshly away from the enchantment, Talthorn still associated this woman with the feelings of adoration. How she cared for him and about him so completely. 

He didn't understand the embodiment of any sort of love before. Only parts of what it made it whole. The entirety was a matured version of friendship that developed into wanting to share what you were with someone else. To be vulnerable, and intimate and genuine with acceptance. It was everything Ellanore wanted to give to him, and no one was able to show him until this. 

This breakthrough of realization that he deserved love in his life. That he was not exempt from something so profound! Talthorn was beyond capable of expressing such emotions but he had never given himself the chance! It wasn't too late to have it in his world along with all of his passions!

Walking away from the dropped choker, he takes smooth steps to her and kneels down. 

When she looks up in disaster she expects hatred and disgust! Instead she is greeted with a tight and tender embrace. "G-get away from me!" Ellanore yells, ready to thrust him off. 

"Let's continue all of this! Without the magic." he tells her with warmth.

"What? You....can't be....." 

"I don't need the magic to love you, Ella."

Bursts of sobs break out as she clings to Talthorn in disheveled bewilderment! Shaking her head in disbelief, she didn't think she could ever believe him.

@daily-writing-challenge​

(( Disaster is the best way to describe all of this. Within it, there was a incredible breakthrough for Talthorn. Even if continuing this abusive relationship with Ellanore was a mistake, his desire to embrace that embodiment of what he had concluded true love to be was now a tangible aspiration. 

His fateful meeting of Konietzko, continues to change his life and what love means to him! There can always be happiness in truth. ))

[goldenhemmings]

For The Win | Basketball!Shawn

Me? Posting two pieces in one night?? Shawnblr’s resident sports whore is back with 1.6k words of shitty impulse writing because she loses her fucking mind when Shawn does anything remotely close to sporty. Enjoy.

Raptors have the firepower to reach NBA Finals. Raptors build momentum one defining moment at a time. Raptors become Eastern Conference Champions, will play in first-ever NBA Finals. And, most recently, Warriors defeat Raptors in Game 5 of the NBA Finals. They were all articles she was proud of publishing, but none of them carried the headline Y/N so desperately wished to write: Toronto Raptors become NBA champions.

She was fresh out of college and just finishing her second year as a sports reporter for the Toronto Star, exclusively covering the Raptors. Going to basketball games and interviewing some of the greatest players in the NBA was a part of her official job description; every aspiring sports journalist’s dream. Additionally, she felt luckier than could be explained for the opportunity to cover a championship roster, especially one that was up 3-2 on Golden State, of all teams. It was a feat not many people had expected the Raptors to be able to accomplish, and Y/N was right there alongside it all, reporting on arguably the biggest Cinderella story of the 2018-19 season.  

Today was her last chance to get commentary from the players before Game 6, as they traveled to Oakland first thing the next morning. Her editor expected an article to be on his desk by eight p.m. that night to be blasted to the entire city of Toronto the next morning, and time was of the essence.

Y/N rounded the corner towards the front entrance of the OVO Athletic Centre, the Raptors’ primary training facility. She flashed her press badge to the security guard standing outside the doors of the building; team protocol anytime there were members of the squad using the gym. The guard, whom she recognized from her many ventures to this particular practice facility, gave a curt nod before scanning the doors open for her.

She stepped inside, the cool air conditioning of the building overwhelming her and causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She locked eyes with the receptionist, Jim, who sat in his usual spot at the front desk just on the other side of the doors. Dutifully wearing a red We The North t-shirt, he smiled at her and brushed a hand back over his graying hair as he stood to greet her.

“How’re you doing today, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I’m covering a first-time Eastern Conference champion,” she grinned, not missing a beat, and Jim let out a hearty laugh. “So I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“I’d say so, too,” he answered. “Who’re you here for today?”

She smiled. She never knew the players’ individual schedules; all she could do was hope that she could catch them at the right moment. Jim, however, had always been on her side, doing all he could to help her track down the athletes she needed when she needed them. “Ideally Leonard. I’m looking to get a statement for the feature I’m writing.”

“Believe he’s still in the main gym practicing. You might need to wait until he’s done.”

She checked the delicate rose-gold watch that adorned her wrist. “I’ve got time,” she replied, already fishing inside her purse for the tape recorder she’d brought to document the interview. “Just glad he’s actually here. Thanks, Jim.”

She stepped past the desk and followed the path to Gymnasium One; a trail that she knew like the back of her hand. She could hear the echo of a basketball bouncing on the lacquered wooden court before she could see the entrance to the gym, which she took as a good sign; at least someone was in there.

She stepped through the entryway and was met with an empty gymnasium save for the tall, familiar man shooting layups on the far-left hoop, his curly brown hair pushed off of his face with a thin black headband. She took note of the Mendes 98 stitched onto the back of his black practice jersey; he wasn’t who she was looking for, but hopefully he could get her one step closer to finding the player she needed. As soon as he spotted Y/N he began making his way over to her, the basketball now tucked between his arm and the side of his torso.

“Here to interview me?” he asked, flashing his trademark, brilliant smile. His deep voice had a slight echo in the nearly-vacant gymnasium. Shawn Mendes was a first-year player for the Toronto Raptors after the team acquired him from the Phoenix Suns, where he’d been drafted and previously spent two seasons. He wasn’t quite ready to be a main-rotation player, but he did see a few minutes of playing time most games. He was young and he was talented, and the Raptors were doing a great job at developing his skills. In a few years, he’d undeniably be of starting-five calibre.

“I’m looking for Leonard, actually,” Y/N answered matter-of-factly. She ran into Shawn quite frequently due to the fact that he wasn’t a hard-to-reach, top player in the same category as Kawhi Leonard or Kyle Lowry, and she’d had plenty of time to get to know Shawn with all the time she’d spent diligently waiting around the Raptors’ clubhouse to catch one of the team’s stars for a quick statement she could write into an article. In fact, she was the one who’d written the story that broke the news of his trade from Phoenix to Toronto; she had the article, her first-ever breaking news story, in a frame sitting on her desk at work. Shawn, on the other hand, had quickly taken a liking to the young reporter and began to look forward to seeing her before and after games, but it had never surpassed his innocent--but very obvious--attempts at flirting.   

“Well when do I get an interview?” he pressed, his eyes sparkling under the bright, fluorescent lights of the gym.

“Singlehandedly put up 36 points in a championship game and then we’ll talk.”

He laughed, looking down at his basketball shoes. “So never, then.”

“I wouldn’t say never,” she teased. “You’d just better get practicing.”

“Fair,” he replied with a smirk. He was slightly sweaty from what Y/N assumed to be an intense practice session, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself how endearing she found the fact that his cheeks always flushed when he played. “36 points for an interview, but how many do I have to score to get you to go to dinner with me?”

Y/N raised a brow at him, suddenly amused; he’d never been this forward before. “Equally as many,” she fired back, challenging him, and relishing in the way his lips pulled into a smile. “Plus the championship.”

His eyes widened. “You do know who we’re playing, right?”

“Are you saying you don’t believe in your team? That’d make a great headline.”

“Am I on or off the record here?” he laughed, and just as Y/N was ready to bite back with a witty remark she noticed a door on the opposite side of the gym open, and in walked Kawhi Leonard in his typical practice uniform. Y/N gasped and turned to dash towards him, already turning her tape recorder on, hoping to grab him before he left for the day.

She could feel Shawn watching her as she spoke to the Raptors’ star forward, occasionally turning away to take a few shots from behind the arc. Show off. Once satisfied with the questions she’d had Leonard answer, she said a polite thank you and good luck before turning to tuck her tape recorder back into her purse. Shawn was approaching her in an instant, the basketball bouncing off in the opposite direction, disregarded after the last shot he’d taken.

“You never answered my question, you know,” he began, still smiling, though his tone was less joking than it was before she’d gone to do her interview. “About what it’ll take for you to go to dinner with me.”

“Yes, I did,” she retorted, a sly smile crossing her mouth. “You put up 36 points in a game and the Raptors win the championship. That’s your answer.”

“That’s a lot to ask, Y/N,” he replied, laughing lightly. “I don’t exactly have a large influence over whether or not we win the championship.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, enjoying their banter more than she’d ever admit. “You’d better make the most of your three minutes of playing time, then.”

He sucked a breath of air in through his teeth, feigning offense. “Ouch.”

She giggled, but was interrupted by her phone sounding its familiar ringtone that signified a text message. She pulled it out of her bag to reveal a text from her boss: How’s the article coming?

She sighed, which Shawn picked up on right away. “Everything alright?”

“Duty calls,” she shrugged, tucking the phone away and readjusting how the strap of her purse rested on her shoulder. “I’ve gotta get back to the office and put this story together.”

Shawn nodded in understanding, his soft eyes fixated on hers. “I guess I’ll see you, then. Hopefully we can get the win in Oakland, but if we do come back to Toronto for a Game 7 I look forward to seeing you there.”

Her cheeks got hot. Why was he looking at her like that all of a sudden? “Tell your teammates I’m rooting for them,” she replied, beginning to move back towards the door.

He laughed, reaching to grab another basketball and not fully understanding what she was getting at. “Half of North America is rooting for them.”

“Then half of North America wants you to take me to dinner,” she called back with a smug grin, turning around to leave the gym before she could see his expression, but she didn’t miss the perfect swoosh sound that accompanied a basketball falling perfectly through the net.

[half-bakedboy]

ok, I just read your reyhill fic "Can I Stay?" and it was sooo cute omg. I love Lorenzo/Andrew but sadly there's not much out there for them so I'm glad for any bits. I had an idea the other day and was looking for someone to prompt: Lorenzo actually has some artistic talent of his own and wants to draw Andrew like one of his french girls, so to speak 😉

So Drawing…Read on AO3

Anyone who knew Lorenzo knew that he had an eye for fine art. He had collected everything from paintings to sculptures to antique pottery all acquired at different times throughout his long life. He saw art as a way of expression, something many of his friends and acquaintances have done beautifully and he aspired to. He always told himself that whoever he ended up with would appreciate his gifts just as much as he did. 

“You have quite the collection,” Andrew noted as Lorenzo poured him another glass of wine. Lorenzo was glad he noticed as every single piece he owned had meaning to him, some more than others. Andrew was currently eyeing a painting he commissioned from a close friend, one that he usually kept in his chateaux in Paris, but had since been collecting dust in the corner of the new apartment he moved into in New York. The painting was of him, clad in full fencing gear, his helmet in his arm and his sword in perfect position in his other hand. It was one of his favorite gifts he had received. He stood next to Andrew and handed him his glass. He ignored the skip in his heart when Andrew smiled over at him. “Did you paint that?”

“A friend painted that for me. Self portraits are not my strong suit, I’m afraid,” Lorenzo said as he took a few long sips of his wine. Andrew turned toward him and raised his eyebrows. 

“Does that mean you have a strong suit? You paint?” Andrew clarified with another devastating smile. Lorenzo nodded and gestured toward the unfinished and mostly empty canvases toward the back of the living room. 

“I dabble,” Lorenzo teased as he walked over to his supplies. He picked up a paintbrush and let the bristles smooth over the pad of his thumb. “A friend tried to teach me, some decades ago, but I never really felt like I got the hang of it.” It wasn’t often that Lorenzo didn’t take the chance to brag about himself, his gloating being how he achieved such high status in the warlock community after all, but he didn’t feel like he had to with Andrew. He felt Andrew walk up beside him, his hand reaching next to Lorenzo’s waist to grab a small canvas from the wall of blank ones. 

“What was your favorite thing to paint?” Andrew asked as he ran his strong hand down the white material, his other grabbing a jar of pencils from the desk. Lorenzo watched him closely and narrowed his eyes in thought. He hummed and placed a hand on his chin, letting his eyes linger over Andrew’s long body. 

“The human figure is always a good place to start,” Lorenzo said as he finished off his glass of wine and smirked up at Andrew. Lorenzo liked the way Andrew always seemed to fluster around him. He wasn’t quite used to it, not the way the tips of Andrew’s ears would redden and his hand would instinctively move to the back of his neck. 

“Why don’t you draw me?” Andrew inquired, a bit more confidence in his tone once Lorenzo started his flirting. Lorenzo laughed brightly, shook his head, and placed his glass down on the desk before taking the pencils from Andrew’s hand. When he reached for the canvas, Andrew didn’t let go, using it to pull Lorenzo closer to him. It was Lorenzo’s turn to be flustered, feeling Andrew’s solid chest against his. 

“I– I don’t think I can…” Lorenzo trailed off as he looked at the canvas, feeling Andrew’s thumb graze over his fingers. His breath seemed to pause in his lungs as Andrew looked down at him, pulling his lip between his teeth like he was deep in thought. 

“I think you can do lots of things,” Andrew said before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “That was supposed to sound more…” His words trailed off as he waved his unoccupied hand like he was searching for a word. Lorenzo took the compliment anyways. 

“I think,” Lorenzo said after a deep breath, “that there’s something else I want to do to you more than draw you.” Lorenzo’s eyes widened because apparently, Andrew’s nervousness had ruined his ability to be suave. Before he had a chance to reconsider his word choice or apologize profusely for how forward his sentence had been, Andrew’s grip was gone from the canvas. He stepped forward, minimizing the already small space between them and both of his hands moved to hold Lorenzo’s face. The touch was so gentle, he thought his heart might have stopped. Andrew leaned in slowly, like a question waiting for an answer, and Lorenzo wanted to yell a resounding ‘yes’. 

Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his chin up, his hands gripping at Andrew’s waist, tugging on the jacket Andrew had neglected to take off when he arrived. The moment Andrew’s lips pressed to his, his heart raced, restarting from what felt like complete stillness. His lips were softer than Lorenzo thought they would be, the rest of him filled with bumps and scars and his hands calloused from his seraph blade. He focused on the solid chest pressed against him, the way Andrew’s lips moved slowly and delicately against his own. It was nothing like Lorenzo expected and everything he had wanted. When he pulled away, it was too soon, entirely too quickly for Lorenzo to taste him in the way he needed. 

Lorenzo opened his eyes and peered up at him, smiling widely at the similar grin on Andrew’s face. The blush that covered Lorenzo’s cheeks and the way his heart slowed at Andrew’s soft gaze were unfamiliar to him, but not unwanted. He didn’t mind the way Andrew made him feel, the way he looked at Lorenzo like he saw something no one else ever had. Lorenzo shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around Andrew’s waist, not quite ready to let him go. Andrew’s hands moved to his shoulders, looping around his neck to pull him in for an even gentler kiss, chaste and swift. 

“So, drawing…” Andrew said slowly as he pulled away, nodding toward the canvases behind Lorenzo. Lorenzo turned just enough to look at his desk before shrugging and shaking his head. 

“I don’t know that drawing is the activity I want to end the night with,” Lorenzo decided before he bit down on his lip, sending a questioning glance up at Andrew. Andrew laughed in response, bright and loud before pulling him in again, that time without the intent to pull away.