#I wish english had better ways and more words to describe feelings of attraction and sexuality tbh

[bookmauls]

Hey Maulblr! I want to monologue at you about something I miss from the better old EU.

In the restraint short story (but also present, albeit less so in The Wrath of Darth Maul.) It's implied that something sexual/romantic* in nature between him, Kilindi and Daleen is promised as a reward for him surviving his Gora (rite of passage.) At Orisis.

I found this part of wrath/restraint to be sweet, amusing, surprisingly realistic, and earthy for a Star Wars piece. I know a lot of people get their underthings in a twist about young people fooling around with each other, but it's something a lot of us did. I was seventeen when wrath was published, and it felt like something I'd have wanted to be doing. It's something current texts miss in the Disney canon. The messy, groundedness of people bumping into each other. It doesn't need to be overt. It can be interpreted differently, but attraction and implicit sexuality (think Rincewind and his weird thing for potatoes) made Maul feel like more of a person. Sexuality being addressed and discussed is a good thing. Glossing over it to appear as family-friendly as possible is like removing a bandwidth of light from the colour spectrum because some people find red objectionable. I also made other works feel more organic, especially his interactions with Komari Vosa bitter-sweet and more amusing in their awkwardness.

I think Wrath and Restraint handled the budding sexuality and chemistry quite well while leaving much to interpretation. Addressing sexuality, or even lack of attraction (ace rights), as a fun aside, is a great way to flesh out a character.

Much of Star Wars, especially Villains and PARTUCULARLY post-buyout has become dry and lifeless in a rather sad and saleable way that doesn't offend anyone's sensibilities.

*(Let's be real, maul and romance in canon text go together like chalk and cheese-based bicycles.)

[nomdepen]

She sucked in a breath at the overload of stimulation. His hand on her breast, teasing the bud of her nipple as it swelled to a peak beneath her dress. Her fingers marking their territory along the outline of his throbbing bulge, as the rivulets of passion created by his fingers still trailed down her leg. If Pen didn't know any better, she might think this was a precursor to death. La petite morte, indeed. If it got any more intense than this, Pen thought she might just reach the gates of heaven before their wedding night even arrived. If she had known it would like this with Ben, she wouldn't have been strong enough to hold herself back. She would've been a full and proper trollop, but she had waited. She knew making love was supposed to be sacred and there was no other word to explain the way she wanted to give herself to him entirely. Now that she had a taste for the forbidden fruit, she knew it would be impossible to turn back.

Her lips parted, gentle sighs morphing into soft moans as she felt him swell beneath her touch. How could a person have such gentle eyes, such soft lips but be so rigid below the belt? Pen bit at her lip as he moved to fumble with his bottoms, unable to contain her excitement. As he freed himself from his breeches, Pen's heart began picking up speed as she pressed against his skin, hot and pulsing.

This was all madness and yet she had never wanted to be insane so much in her life.

She stroked gently at first, concerned that she might hurt him if she moved the wrong way. The book hadn't mentioned anything about the feeling such acts elicited and she was swiftly realizing why. There weren't enough words to describe the feeling of his cock sliding beneath her fingers. There were not enough words in the English language to describe the ravenous fire that burned through her as she grew wetter and wetter for him.

It took every ounce of strength she had to not tear off her dress. Each undone button felt like torture, a slow-building excitement that she couldn't wait any longer for. Clothes had never felt so useless, so obstructive in her life and she was eager to be rid of them. The way his breath wavered with each pump made her own body drip in desire, his moans fueling the fire in her loins. How was the sound of his pleasure just as attractive as his voice? How were his breaths on her skin enough to make her feel so feral?

When he spoke of stopping, she jerked her hand away, worried she'd gone too far.

"W-what? Why? I... I-I don't understand... Did I... hurt you...? Is it not... ?" Her voice dropped into a whisper, wavering with an underlying sense of fear. If she ended up hurting him in any way, Pen might never forgive herself. The sheer thought of hurting him in general was unbearable, but the thought of paining him after he had granted her such unimaginable pleasure was heartbreaking. She only wanted to bring him euphoria, to make him quiver and explode with satisfaction the way she had, so why on earth would they stop? Unless...

Panic began to creep in and she dreaded what might come next. Was she doing it wrong? Had she done something he hadn't liked? Pen furrowed her brows and reached up to take his face in her hands again. She had assured Ben that she would stop him if he did anything she didn't like, but he hadn't confirmed the same for her. Would he allow her to fumble around just to prevent embarrassing her? Or would he carry on as a soldier was expected to do? She stared into his eyes, searching for a hidden meaning, but failed to find one. She couldn't tell if the shaking in her bones was the overflowing need for him inside her or the earth crumbling around them, but she didn't care.

Do you truly wish to succumb? His question floated in the air around them, but try as she might, Pen couldn't find a meaning to put to it. Succumb to what? Madness? Pleasure? Absolute hedonism? She was sure she'd already given in to half of the seven deadly sins by now, so what else was there to succumb to? What more was there to expect?

Pen wasn't sure she'd be able to handle anything more without losing herself irrevocably to lust. They weren't married yet which made what they were doing sinful, despite their pending nuptials. Until they were rightfully bound together under God, everything they did tonight was a sin. But how could such a feeling be a sinful when she'd never felt closer to heaven? With a fervent pleading in her eyes, she nodded. "I want you, Ben. I need you. In every way."

Penelope was soft and earnest, and even with the innocent way she traced the outline of his cock with her fingertips, Benjamin had to catch his weight against the oak desk, his mouth parting as he struggled to form a coherent response. The pressure of her palm increased and his hips jerked, desperate, needy as he bit back a soft gasp.

"I...y-you do pleasure me," he promised, his limbs wobbly as they locked eyes. "Pen, I..."

She cut him off with a mere touch of her hand, guiding him, silently commanding him, until she slid his palm across her breast and prompted him to squeeze.

"Show me what you like. Teach me."

All futile words died on his tongue, and mouth growing dry, Benjamin hesitantly brushed his thumb over her budding nipple and swallowed, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. He whispered her name again, soft and reverent, and nudging his forehead into hers, he grazed their lips while reaching down and fumbling with the buttons along his fall front. Each attempt at unfastening his breeches was sharp and clumsy, until finally, he dropped the flap of fabric and reached for Penelope's hand again.

"You don't have to," he gently reminded her. Expression soft and fond, he pressed his lips to her brow and cupped her cheek, then carefully guided her hand into his trousers. The moment he wrapped her hand around his cock, he flinched, breathing out as though winded. He was unaccustomed to being touched in this way -- he was unaccustomed to how much better it felt to be stroked by another, rather than giving in to the shame of his own hand.

Tightening his hold on her wrist, Benjamin nearly doubled over as he encouraged her to quicken her pace, his mouth crashing into hers as he kissed her with a harsh enthusiasm to quiet his low groans.

Amidst Penelope's exploration, he set to work on undoing the buttons along the back of her dress, their kiss growing wet and messy as he throbbed between her stroking fingers. It was too much -- oh God, he wanted all of her -- and parting their lips to catch his breath, he bit back a shuddering groan once he thrust through the tight ring of her grip.

"I...w-we should stop, if...i-if you truly wanted more," Benjamin gritted. It was difficult to explain how men could only get aroused the once during a certain timeframe versus a woman's several, and drawing in several slow, calming breaths to try and ease his need for release, his knees wobbled amidst her strokes as they locked eyes. "Do you truly wish to succumb?"

[mapileonxputellas]

Hola (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Request found here. Yes! Yes! Yes! Love this! So I contemplated making this a bit more saucy but then I wasn't too sure so this is like just sexual tension! 3.5k words x

If your friends and family had to describe you using one word, it would be confident. You learnt from a young age confidence is everything in sport, especially being a striker, without that you would never be where you are today. That confidence was needed to take you on your next journey and led you to Barcelona. Having spent your whole career at Arsenal, from the academy to a regular player, when it came to renewing your contract you felt that now was the right time to make the change, at the age of 25 you were ready for a new challenge. Having made a name for yourself in the WSL and in the Euro’s, when Barcelona approached you it seemed like the perfect fit. Having Lucy and Keira also making the move was a massive help to you, settling into the city together and having someone you could speak English to with your very basic Spanish knowledge.

What you would say was definitely your best season to date was rewarded with a Ballon d’Or nomination, though you knew it was already staying in the arms of your current teammate. A teammate who you were yet to meet. Though you’d been in Barcelona for over two months now and were loving your new life and teammates, it seemed like fate didn’t want you and Alexia to meet. Even though she was injured she still attended the odd training session but you never seemed to be in the same place.

You knew that would change today as you arrived at the pick-up point to head to the airport, you would be heading off with the men’s team and staying overnight before making your way back to Barcelona tomorrow. Asisat, Lucy and Frida had already arrived by the time you got on the coach, sitting at a table to yourself, but you were just missing the final leading lady.

You could hear the commotion at the front as she arrived, greeting the men’s players before joining your group at the back and the first thing you noticed was how attractive she was in real life. Of course she was attractive on photos but in real life she definitely hit another level.

“Hola,” She finally came around to greeting you with a little smile as she took the seat opposite you. “I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met.”

“I was beginning to think we never would, it’s like you’ve been avoiding me.” You replied, which received a wink in return. “Are you excited?”

“Si, if not just to spend the night with you.”

“Always the charmer Putellas.”

“Always.”

If this was any other situation you would be the first to spark up the conversation but for some reason the girl in front of you was making you nervous, the odd look shared between the two of you but for the most part the conversation was initiated by the others in the group.

Not much changed on the short plane journey either though Lucy did bring up an awkward topic on the group after you’d all moved around one table on the private jet, Alexia to one side of you as Lucy was opposite you with Frida and Asisat.

“So how’s Ana?” Lucy tried to tease you with that cunning look in her eye that you knew so well.

“I mean I think she’s fine, why’d you ask me?”

“Oh come on we can all see it, you two are like always together.”

Whilst that may have been true and you had made a good friend in Ana, there was nothing more than that to it but before you could reply Alexia made her feelings known. “Wow and you say I have good charm.”

“I never said mine isn’t better but just to confirm we’re friends, I can’t just spend my whole time third wheeling you and Keira.”

“That makes a change.”

…..

The rest of the journey carried on in the same vain, mostly just a lot of you and Lucy teasing each other and the other girls joining in. You kind of wished you would have had a bit of time to get to know Alexia, of course you were going to be teammates at some point but the girl next to you intrigued you. You were alike in many ways in that you exuded confidence on the pitch but you wanted to know about the other side to her.

Arriving at the hotel, the club had organised a make up artist for each individual player in their rooms and all was going well until you realised once she had left you had no-one to help you get ready. If there’s one thing you were known for other than football it was your quite bold fashion statements and this time you had chosen a cream suit with a lacy bralette showing underneath attached to a chocker made of pearls. You’d barely even got through the first piece without encountering an issue and that came in the form of your bra which had a set of hook and eyes leading up to the neck. You tried with all your might but you just could not get them to do up properly, which left you with only one choice and that was to go and get some help. The problem was that you hadn’t taken enough notice of who was in the rooms around you and you knew the girls probably wouldn’t answer their phones.

Taking a deep breath you fixed the bathroom robe over the loose garment and went out into the hallway and with no idea who’s it was, knocked on the door across from your own.

Things could not get much more awkward as the girl you only met today opened the door, already in her own dress. “Hola, are you not going to get ready?” You barely heard the question as you took her whole outfit in, from the slick back ponytail to the incredible dress, she looked amazing. “Y/N!”

“Sorry, I was hoping you could help me, it’s got a fiddly fastening.”

“You better come in then.”

“Thank you.” You walked further into the room, noticing the stark contrast in her organised room compared the chaos behind your door. “You look good by the way, more than good, incredible actually….”

“I’d return the compliment but I don’t think you’re going in that bath robe.”

“No this is for your eyes only.”

“I’m honoured.”

Turning your back to her, your first instinct was to just drop the bath robe completely but you only realised once it was too late that doing so left you stood in someone else’s room in only a see-through bra and matching thong, quickly bending down to secure it round your waist. “Sorry.”

“No don’t apologise for that.” Her cold hands left shivers down your spine as she lightly made contact with your back whilst doing up the fasteners, continuing to work her way up until she reached the final one. “Cold? You’ve got goosebumps, I thought it was pretty warm in here.”

“Something like that.” You quickly muttered before pulling your robe back up. “I’ll see you later.”

“I look forward to it.” Just as you went to open the door a hand on your back stopped you. “You look great too by the way, breath-taking.”

“Smooth talker Putellas.”

“Like you said, I’m a charmer.”

You quickly escaped the room before your cheeks became anymore red, completing the outfit with your matching suit and killer heels that your stylist had forced you to wear. Forgoing a bag, you stuffed your phone into the inner pocket before rushing down to meet the others, knowing you were already slightly behind schedule.

“Here she is.” Lucy announced your arrival as you walked into the entrance hall, all eyes on you as you grabbed a quick glass of water before the photos started.

As Alexia and yourself were the highest in contention for the main award, you took your places in the middle of the group photos, Alexia to your left and Gavi to your right. “I was right, you look incredible.” Alexia whispered in your ear as everyone settled around you, her arm wrapped around your waist much like your own onto hers. “Fucking incredible.”

“Can’t let down La Reina over here”

It felt like you were stood there for hours taking photos, different combinations of people with the president coming in for some and the managers joining for others, but finally you were loaded off into the cars to the venue.

“Now I can’t get rid of you.” Alexia joked as she joined you in the car for just the two of you, a healthy amount of distance between you both as the car started though you could still feel her eyes trailing up and down your body. “Do you have a stylist for events?”

“They offer suggestions and then I have the final choice, this was my suggestion though. I don’t know suits kind of make me feel powerful, in control. Some might say dominant.” Now it was your time to turn on the charm as you could see her slightly moving in her seat. “What do you think?”

“You definitely look dominant right now.”

“Good.”

“Do you enjoy evenings like this? The paparazzi are always crazy at anything like this.”

“I like that we’re finally getting the chance to have some praise for our achievements. Interviews and all that don’t bother me, it’s just the initial photos. I don’t know sometimes the bright lights panic me, I know it’s stupid because we play in front of thousands every week but just standing there….”

“It’s not stupid.” She reassured you, gently placing her hand over your own on the middle seat, lightly tracing her finger over your hand. “No-one is the same on that field and with our family and friends as we are with the media.”

“What about you, you must be getting used to this all now?”

“I’m still not comfortable with it but I just know that tonight I’ll just be getting questions on the whole Spain situation and the injury. Like if I win, no-one will even be talking about the football.” She was obviously trying to be conservative but everyone knew Alexia would be the one taking the award home tonight.

“You’ve just got to remember you’ve had an amazing season and you got voted to be in this position, no-one can say you don’t deserve it.”

“I won’t say it was a positive because it was a shit time all round but this injury did mean that I got to watch a lot of you at the Euro’s and you deserved the player of the tournament. If anyone should win tonight it’s you.”

“Thank you.”

….

All too soon you arrived at the venue, the red carpet lined with photographers up to the interviewer at the end. You could feel the panic in your chest when you all stood for the photos but the ever-present hand on your back from Alexia grounded you. Every few minutes she would check you were fine before the both of you conducted a joint interview.

“Alexia how does it feel to be nominated tonight for your second Ballon d’Or in a row? You’ve got stiff competition this year.” The woman asked.

“It feels incredible to be here tonight, celebrating football and how it can be enjoyed by everyone regardless of their gender. The competition this year just shows how competitive the women’s game is and I’m in awe of every single player nominated tonight, including Y/N.”

“Y/N this is your first Ballon d’Or, you had an incredible summer but would winning tonight top it all off? Is this awkward trying to steal Alexia’s crown?”

“It was an incredible summer and of course it was nice being nominated but I know what incredible season’s everyone on that list had. In terms of Alexia, she’s an incredible player and she deserves this award, I’m just glad I can spend more time with her this season and I’ll see if she can give me any tips.”

“Good luck tonight girls.”

“Thank you.”

Both Alexia and yourself were shortlisted into the top 5 players and had managed to be seated next to each other as you awaited the final results and for the winner to be announced. Before the camera panned to yourselves you leaned over in the seat to whisper into her ear. “Good luck making the speech if you get nervous just picture me earlier. You know the effect you had on me, I wanted to be powerful tonight and you made me want to get on my knees for you.”

“And the winner of the Ballon d’Or is… Alexia Putellas.”

You thought she would just send you a smile before walking onto the stage but she leaned over to pull you in for a hug instead her arms low on your waist, taking the chance to whisper in your ear. “You don’t understand how much self-control it took to not rip that off you.” Thankfully she managed to compose herself, quickly making her way up to the stage, you watched on almost in awe as she nailed the speech, thanking her teammates and her family and friends before she looked your way. “I also want to applaud and congratulate my fellow nominees, I for one cannot wait to see you all thrive this year, especially those at Barca, we all have so much to show one another and the world. Thank you.”

@yourusername: Ballon d'Or 2022.

Comments:

@/alexiaputellas: 🔥🔥 photo creds?

↪️ @yourusername: always ❤️

…..

That night felt like months ago though in reality it was only a few weeks, the only negative being that straight after the awards Alexia was whisked away and didn’t even travel back with you all. The most disappointing thing for you came in the lack of contact between the two of you, she’d probably forgotten all about you once the night was over. It’s fair to say you hadn’t though, you could remember all the tension you felt between you both, the spark you felt when her hands touched your skin. Everything. You’d kept an eye out for her during the training sessions but you never spotted the girl who was in your thoughts all the time.

Two weeks had passed since the ceremony and you were celebrating a 2-1 win over Levante having scored both of the goals.

“Y/N I’ll pick you up tonight.” Ana shouted just as you were about to leave the changing room. “9 alright with you?”

“I’ll be ready, thanks.”

The team had organised to celebrate with a few drinks at an exclusive bar, come club, that had recently opened. With it being an evening kick off you only had a few hours to get ready and into the outfit you had chosen, a black silk shirt and skirt combo which you left open at the front.

“You look great.” Ana said as I got into her car that night. “Out to impress anyone?”

“Only myself.” Through spending a lot of time with Ana you’d told her vaguely about what happened that night, she tried to persuade you to just message Alexia but your nerves of getting rejected pushed you back each time.

“Good for you.”

“How’s your girl been?” Ana had also confided in you that she had been dating someone but didn’t want to make it public just yet.

“Really good, I have officially have a girlfriend now.”

“Shut up! I’m really happy for you Ana.”

“Thank you, now we just need to get you one.”

Arriving at the club you spotted all the girls in a private section, stopping at the bar for a shot to take the edge off and a drink for yourself and Ana as a thank you. After the initial welcomes, you took your spot on the dance floor, messing around with a few of the girls, letting your hair down and forgetting about the pressures of being a footballer.

That came tumbling down when you spotted the brunette in the corner of the room, her eyes trailed on you as she nursed her drink. Your eyes locked together, neither managing to turn away as you continued to dance with Ingrid and she tried to vaguely listen to what Mapi was saying.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mapi asked, noticing Alexia was barely even focusing on their chat anymore. Following her eyes she was met with you dancing with her girlfriend, your eyes though only meeting the girl next to her. “Wow I didn’t know you two even knew each other.”

“We don’t… not really anyway.”

“But you find her attractive.”

“Of course I do, I mean have you seen the girl.”

“Follow her.” Mapi almost pushed the Ballon d’Or winner out of her seat noticing your retreating figure. “Go.”

“I’m going.”

“Don’t come back without her.”

You didn’t know how long you could take the tension out there, even across the room it felt like she was invading all your senses. Retreating into the bathroom you took a deep breath, giving yourself a silent peptalk in the mirror.

“Hey.” Your thoughts were interrupted as Alexia walked into the bathroom, leaning on the counter next to you. “I thought you’d forgotten who I was.”

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“I’m sorry about that night, I really wanted to spend the night with you girls, especially you, but then the media duties took over and I had to spend an extra night in Paris.” She admitted, her hand coming up to stroke down your face as you lent into her touch. “I thought I must have read the signals wrong when you didn’t message me.”

“I was waiting for you to message me.” You admitted. “I thought I misread the signals. I guess we both got the situation wrong.”

“Where’s little miss confident gone?”

“What can I say? You make me nervous, even tonight I would usually be the first to go over but you just paralysed me.”

“I saw you arriving with Ana and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by approaching you.”

Before you had the time to reply you could feel footstep approaching and grabbed Alexia’s hand to lock yourselves in a cubicle, a mere few inches between you both that were immediately removed as you backed her into the wall behind her.

“I thought I told you there was nothing going on there.” Every inch of your bodies was touching as you left no room between you both, your lips grazing her ear as you tried to whisper. “She’s not the one I think about in bed, she’s not the one who’s hands I can feel on my back when I’m alone.” You traced your hands up her sides in the cut out of her dress, you could feel both your hearts racing as her leg wrapped around your thigh.  “She doesn’t drive me crazy after one meeting.”

“I’m guessing she doesn’t do this then.”

Before you even had the chance to reply she’d propelled you backwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist as her lips crashed down onto yours. You’d never felt like this just from a kiss before as her tongue battled with your own, one hand holding you up whilst the other knotted itself in your hair. You own hands wrapping around her neck. She definitely had the smoothest lips you’d ever felt as her lips detached from your own only to trail down your neck, sucking on your sweet spot.

“Stop.” You whispered before crashing your lips together once again, not wanting her to leave a mark.

This time when you separated you stayed in close proximity, your forehead resting on her own as she let you get down. “Did you not have anyone to help you today? You seem to be missing something.” From her position she could see your lack of clothing underneath your shirt.

“I should have asked Ana.”

“Say that again.”

“Maybe Ana might not want to help.” Even though you knew that was a complete lie you couldn’t help but tease the other woman as her anger began to show. “Especially if we lose contact again.”

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea when I’m the one you’re thinking about.” You should have known she would use that against you. “Let me take you out on a proper date, maybe you can tell me about these dreams you’ve been having.”

“I’d like that.” You admitted. “About the date.”

“Of course.”

Taking one final glance at you, she pecked your lips once more and gave your behind a pat to move out of the cubicle. Only there you were met with Mapi and Ingrid washing their hands at the sink, your cheeks blushing as your eyes locked with their smirks.

“Good night?”

“You have no idea.”

[inevitable-pretty-chaos]

Aaalright, I managed to translate only one fragment, because it's actually the only thing that somehow makes sense without context (and doesn't contain walls of descriptions that would be HELL to translate to English...).

It's about victorian era lovers :)

“They looked at each other but didn't say anything, as if they were afraid that even the quietest whisper might interrupt the whirlwind of emotions in which they were entangled.

It was Nicodem who took the first uncertain step towards Valerian. Driven by a strange attraction that he had already felt when he was with the pianist, he stood right in front of him, placed his hand on his cheek with a tender gesture and lost himself in his green-brown eyes.

"It was amazing, you know, Valerian?" he asked a rhetorical question in a whisper, afraid to raise his voice even a little. "I had no idea you could play so well."

Valerian stared at him in silence, as if his words took time to sink in. And when this happened, he smiled and, on impulse, stood up.

"I was sure you'd like it," he replied just as quietly, with satisfaction. "Do you know what the word "veneratio" means?" he asked suddenly and when he received a negative answer, his smile widened. "It means adoration." Something flashed in his eyes, some strong feeling that must have been hidden behind emptiness before, but Nicodem couldn't interpret it.

"Is that an allusion, Valerian?" he asked hesitantly.

Their faces were millimeters apart. He could clearly see the long eyelashes framing the beautiful eyes of Valerian, his muse.

"Guess, Nicodem." This name, uttered for the first time by the pianist, broke a barrier that they had not been aware of before.

Nicodem thought that he wished Valerian would repeat his name more often. He loved the way it sounded on his lips, like the sweet promise of something greater.

And after a short while, Nicodemus could only think about Valerian's hand that stroked his cheek, tangled itself in his hair and gently pulled it, as if a pianist was playing with him. All he could think about was his euphoric smile and his empty eyes. He felt the pianist's other hand come to his back and pull them closer, completely closing the distance between them.

And then their lips connected.

They kissed passionately, discovering something they suddenly realized. They did not pay attention to the fact that they had just crossed the barrier, that from that moment on there was no going back, they did not worry about problems and the negative opinion of society. There was only them and the music that kept playing in the background of their chaotic, confusing thoughts.”

That's... it. (I promise my writing style is better now. Also fun fact – it actually was the first kiss ever that I described.)

(Also hopefully your brain is better now!! /lh)

~Wren

Responding to your tags – I am writing a book, actually. Or I was writing it, in Polish, stopped around 9 chapter, because I added too much complicated dark fantasy politics and complicated characters' relationships and subplots that I got lost (what an idiot writes a book about politics without knowing too much about it!!, ughh). I'll continue it, but certainly not soon.

I have, however, planned a few... shorter things than a novel (mostly one-shots)?

Like a very long one-shot about flesh and energy-eating mermaids that live around small town with weird culture and a young boy whose dad died in the sea.

Or one about an immortal wizard that is desperately searching for a cure for their lover's deadly disease.

Or one about two lovers living in victorian era, both drowning in their toxic relationship, both for completely different reasons.

Actually, I had more stories planned, but after a few years, these are the ones I will focus on in the future.

Oh! I'm also writing a long script for my object show! (More like I have a break from it now, because my mind deleted all of my memories about it, but I'll write it eventually, hopefully!!)

So yeaaah, I'm writing... things.

(I can send you a few translated fragments from one of those previously mentioned stories? They're unfinished, of course, but I really like some parts of them!! If you want to, of course, sorry if I'm rambling.)

~Wren

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

(I would love to see the few translated fragments 👀👀)

And also like everything here my brain is going wild rn

[sendyefrogs]

wish you cared

a/n: this was a rollercoaster to write, and through tears, all i say is, osamu big himbo :/  tw: swearing  word count: 3.9K (lot of word ;-;)  pairing: osamu x gn!reader  genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

The late nights with the light breathy words, whispered discussions, the iridescent illumination of the screen on you face, exchanging words that would have neither rhyme nor reason when the next day greeted you. But not a day went by that you didn’t giggle to yourself, alone in your room, as your eyes skimming over the words that Osamu’s fingers carelessly typed out. And you knew, before you realized, you knew in the deepest of hearts that you were gradually falling for the inane spiker, that this was your middle school infatuation. Little did you realize that this was not, in fact, an infatuation but rather something that would plague you for years, building up for years, overwhelming you, pouring out, resulting in meaningless words and broken hearts.

But for now, it was no different than normal, your heart skipping a beat as he replied to every message of yours, head whirling with possibilities of what he would say next, feeling slightly giddy if you were to describe the emotion you experienced.

The truth was that talking to Osamu Miya, it was like being intoxicated. Not that you truly knew what it meant to be in such a state, but this was what you imagined it to be like. Always waiting for more, desiring to keep going, for the night to just still right then so you may converse endlessly, not having to worry about your mundane duties as the moonlight that shone through your windows left you feeling light-headed and weightless.

But the moon always set to give way to a new day, where you could see him in real time, but none of it felt as ethereal as the late-night talks, as intimate as it was when it was just the two of you alone, as scandalous as it felt spending hours mindlessly revealing the tiniest details of yourself to him.

You’d hoped, of course, that things wouldn’t change when time came for high school; the time, most say, is when old relationships are forgotten, the path to the future is forged, a future you hoped still entailed the time you spent with the Miya twins and Suna. You weren’t ready to move on from Osamu yet, you’d never really gotten to know if he returned the emotions you experienced. And so, you ended up a freshman at Inarizaki High, manager for the volleyball team, an integral part of the group.

You were content. Or so you thought.

Y/n was not someone who forgot easily. This was a thought that occasionally graced the train of thought that ran across Osamu Miya’s mind. They hadn’t forgotten when he said he preferred citrus drinks over plain water, hadn’t forgotten the day he’d mentioned that onigiris were his favorite, or the time he’d wished someone would make him a playlist for when he cooked.

A thought that sprang to mind as he sipped on his lemon water every practice, you beside him, mocking Atsumu, or having sarcastically enthusiastic conversations with Sunarin, or tilting your head upwards to smile at him and telling him about your day while he chuckled lightly.

A thought that crossed his mind every time you cheerfully called out his name during lunch, plopping your pale blue lunchbox on the table, bringing out an onigiri for him every other day, leading to much whining by Atsumu, but he liked it; he was special to you, not his brother, not Sunarin, it was him.

A thought that occurred to him as he put on his headphones, clicking on the song queue you made for him, one that was admittedly perfect for his cooking, calming enough for him to know what he doing, yet passionate enough for him to feel inspired. He never told anyone, but each dish he procured after a day’s cooking, was modelled after a particular song you spent day picking out to put in his playlist; one that was just for him.

He liked being special in your eyes. It made him feel like he was at the top of the world. He noticed, even if you didn’t realize, he noticed everything you did for him. Your encouragement for him at volleyball matches slightly louder than for the rest, not enough for anyone to realize but enough for him to spike the ball down stronger as your voice drowned out the crowds’ cheers for him. The sound of happiness you made eating his food, always motivating him, telling him that he was the best chef you’d ever met. The subtle blush that spread across your face as he patted your head, ruffled your hair. How a simple smile from him could light up your face, no matter how bad you’d been feeling before that.

And how could he ever forget the conversations you had under the covers of darkness? The night only rejuvenated his hope that you were only his, your gentle words and stupid memes, the quiet chuckling under his blankets that made Atsumu throw a pillow at him, yelling at him to take his ‘lover boy’ talks elsewhere.

That was the part he disliked. He was fond of you, of everything you did for him, of how you made him feel like he could do anything when you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. You were his friend. Not everything was about romance. Just because your face made every day, and night, of his better, it did not mean he had to be in love with you. You weren’t exceptionally attractive or anywhere close to the type he preferred, so why did people assume he was in love with you?

For some reason, however, he couldn’t utter those words to you. He knew, that you liked him, else why would you do so much for him? But he chose to ignore it, because if the truth came out and you decided to part ways with him seeing as nothing would ever come out of your efforts, he couldn’t bear it. He needed you. He wanted you.

But not in the way you wanted him. So, he kept you around, no matter how selfish that was.

“Good work, captain!” You smile at Kita-san, handing him a water bottle, quickly moving down the line. “Good work, dipshit.” You toss the bottle to Atsumu who stuck his tongue out at you. “Work, Suna,” you teased and received an eyeroll in response. Handing out all the bottle and murmuring ‘good work’, you finally moved to Osamu.

You loved the whole team and spending time with all of them was something that you adored, but you always saved the last bottle for Osamu. You were sure to keep it separate from the other ones, tucked in the pocket of the basket you carried so you didn’t mistake it for another bottle.

“Here ya go Osamu, good work today! You’re getting so much better.” You face away from him, towards the pair that were walking towards you now that they had a small break.

“Thanks y/n. So, did you decide who you would like as your partner for the English project the teacher assigned us? I mean Sunarin and Atsumu would be glad to have you as their partner too, seeing as you’re the genius among us.” He brought his face down closer, attempting a mocking tone, but it came out as a genuine whisper, directly sounding in your ear, that made a shiver run down your spine.

“W-well, I h-haven’t really decided yet, but I-I was thinking we could work together.” His proximity had flustered you. Your face tilted slightly upwards to him, and only then did you realize that god fucking dammit he’s too close, I can’t think like this. The thumping of your heart against your chest didn’t help either, or the fact that he, apparently, didn’t understand how much you affected him.

You collected yourself before you stuttered anymore. However, barely a word passed your lips that you were interrupted. “Ay lovebirds. This is still a public place. Yer too close to them, ‘Samu. Do you not see how red they’re turning?” You blink twice and throw a punch at the blond, missing completely in your embarrassed state, end up crossing your arms while the two laughed.

“Aw did I say something wrong though? Are you upset I exposed you to your knight in shining covers? Ya talk way too much with him at night. Do you even get any sleep?”

“Just shut up, ‘Tsumu.” Gathering up all the bottles, you walk away, too discomposed to face Osamu after what his twin said. It was probably already obvious to him, but you didn’t want to be humiliated like this in front of someone you held so dear. At the water cooler, you realize you’ve forgotten to bring Osamu’s bottle in your hurry to get as far away from him at that moment as possible. “Fuck.”

You turn back towards the gym.

The three boys watched y/n almost sprint away, laughing lightly. He can feel two sets of eyes on him, and the question echoes in his head. When are you confessing ‘Samu? He wasn’t. How could he when it would just be a lie? He didn’t want to be unfair with you, you deserved a shot at true love. But then again, he wasn’t exactly giving you a chance here was he? Keeping you bound to him, avoiding conversations about admitting romantic intentions, flustering you just for a reaction when he knows, he knows what he does to you.

“You should confess ‘Samu.” His brother’s voice sounded out, unusually soft and serious. Sunarin eyed him, seemingly thinking the same words, but not uttering them. This was the last straw. He had grown tired of people asking him about his affection for y/n, he didn’t realize how or when, but he had. He didn’t want to keep having to repeat the same tactics over and over, dodge and deflect. He was done talking about you in his free time, time he would much rather spend with you than about you, and people just didn’t seem to get it.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” The words came out as a snarl, his temper rising too high too fast. “I don’t fucking like y/n, they’re not my type. I just keep them around because I know they care.” He inhaled, avoiding all the staring eyes of his teammates. The words had come out unintentionally hostile, but he was glad he’d said them. “I mean, have you seen them? They’re not really attractive or interesting at all. It’s just because they make me feel special that they still hang around with us, that I let them hang with us.” His secret came spilling out and he didn’t regret it; he was glad to finally get it off his chest.

Atsumu and Suna, however, weren’t listening to him anymore. They were both staring past him, at the sight behind him, which Osamu whirled around to see. You were standing completely still, arms trembling at your sides, basket of bottles at your feet, eyes glassy.

The whole team followed you with their gaze as you quietly walk to the captain, bow without opening your eyes, murmur out an apology and exit the gymnasium as fast as you could. It was not a swift recognition of what had happened, but Osamu understood eventually that it was his words that had caused this. His brother and Suna merely stood there, shock evident in their eyes. “So, you were just taking advantage of them?” Osamu’s head whipped up at the soft voice of his captain. His words were calm but his expression was one of silent fury. “Do you truly realize how much you broke them with those few sentences? You may not have understood it but, we can all see it. They don’t just care for you, they love you. More than you’ve ever loved anything in your life.”

Osamu was overwhelmed, to say the least. He never intended to hurt you like that, but it had happened. Now, what of all those late-night talks and secret shared smiles? What of the playlists you made for him and the encouraging words you whispered to him before a game? What of his onigiri supply that you procured for him from your little blue lunchbox and the motivating comments you gave him on his cooking?

Before he could stop it, the stinging behind his eyes gave way to tears. Not because he loved you, he still didn’t harbor any romantic intentions towards you, he didn’t want to. But because his heart ached at the thought of being away from you, at the idea of losing you to another group of people, at the realization that you belonged with him.

Belonged with him, just as friends.

Your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. It was bad enough that you learnt that someone you’d been in love with for years now, had just been using you, but it was worse that he admitted clearly it in front of a group of people that you adored. The shattering of your heart as he spoke masked the quiet chatter of his teammates at the display. The humiliation seeped through you, the pitying glances of the team piercing you as Osamu’s words echoed in your ears - have you seen them … not my type … let them hang with us … keep them around … not attractive or interesting.

If that was what he really thought, then why did he let you make those advances? Why did he let you make a laughing stock out of yourself by doing so much for him? Why did he make you believe that he was equally interested, staying up late with you, returning the same energy you exuded?

You knew why now – he wanted to be special. He wanted to bask in the passion that you showed towards him without having to reciprocate any of the emotions. And you gave him that every day, didn’t you? Making him a separate water bottle, bringing him an onigiri, compiling playlists for him, asking him to work with you on the project even if it usually ends up with you doing all the work so you can keep up your grades?

Everything you did, you did for him. What hurt most was that he had been there for you too. He was, in all truth, your best friend. He knew every insecurity, every desire.

The time when your grades plummeted because you stayed up too late, he was there to comfort you, hold your hand and let you lean on his shoulder, cry in fear of what your parents would say, murmuring in low voices about things he did that day to distract you. The time you had refused to leave your room for days after watching that terribly sad anime, he was there to knock some sense into you, but he also laid gentle kisses on your forehead and let you explain ‘everything that was wrong with the world’. The time that he snuck into your bedroom at night just because you mentioned that you were bored and wanted to meet him; cuddling with him until he fell asleep, so you let him stay the night, waking up with his arm around your waist.

And yet, he had absolutely no hesitation in bad-mouthing you in front of everyone you were close with. Did none of that mean anything to him?

Even as the tears streamed down your face, the anger built up slowly, creeping out of you, staying with you long after your face was dry and eyes were left red. And that’s when you decided – Miya Osamu wasn’t special to you anymore. First things first, you had to sort out a few things; your life revolved around the gray-haired spiker. Well, no more.

Pulling out your phone, a text message is sent just a quickly as it is typed out.

y/n [13:25] hey tsumu, I need a partner for the English project. Do it with me or you suck. You were deflecting your emotions with humor, and yet if his face came to mind, you would breakdown right where you stood.

tsum-tsum [13:27] y/n! oh god, where are you????

y/n [13:30] um, home? Where else would I be?

tsum-tsum [13:31] are you okay? I think you should let ‘Samu explain himself. I’m sure he didn’t mean any of that. It was probably all just a lie, just so he didn’t have to answer us.

y/n [13:40] Atsumu I know yer his brother but you don’t have to cover for him like this. He said what he said. We all heard him loud and clear. It’s alright, each to their own ig.

tsum-tsum [13:42] y/n I know what he did is wrong but hes locked himself in his room and he needs to process his feelings. Yer the only one who can talk to him, so please please im begging, help him out.

y/n [13:50] I appreciate the offer but I will have to decline. It’s not often you find out yer being used by someone you love, and you rarely want to see their face after.

tsum-tsum [13:51] love? tsum-tsum [13:51] you actually love him?

y/n [13:52] ah fuck. don’t tell him I said that, I don’t want him to know this now, after he told us how he feels. y/n [13:53] Tsumu? Hello?? y/n [13:53] please don’t do it.

Osamu felt… empty. It was like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think. He was sat on his bed, staring at his phone. He tried to contact you, but none of his calls went through and his texts were undelivered. Was this how it was going to be? No more midnight conversations, no more spontaneous gifts, no more affection or encouragement? He had never implied that he wanted a relationship with you, then why were you so broken?

He never intended anything romantic… did he?

He was a fucking liar and he knew it. He knew what he was doing when he snuck into your room to spend the night with you. He knew what he does when he puts his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort. He knew how you felt every time he stood behind you, your breathing slightly faster, a faint blush running down your neck, struggling not to stutter over your words.

Osamu wanted to scream. Everything about you was adorable. When you weren’t with him, it ached. His arms itched to wrap themselves around you, forehead leaning against yours, your lips moving against his ears, telling him that it would be okay when the coach yelled at him; calming him down when Atsumu got on his nerves; making him smile when nothing went his way. You were there, since middle school, and he never got tired of being around you.

You were his as he was yours. And he…

He loved you.

The tears finally came. Messy and fast, moans escaping his lips through the suppressed sound of hiccups, tears welling up and spilling over no matter how hard he tired to wipe them away. The door slammed open and a furious Atsumu grabbed him by his collar. Osamu could barely fight back, much too devasted as the words he said in the gymnasium came echoing back to him. He loathed himself, for saying all that, even as he knew, you were the light in his life.

Atsumu was yelling at him but the words fazed past him. Out of the blue, his face stung, a slap landed squarely on his face. “Yer so stupid, ‘Samu. They loved you. They loved you and this is how you respond?” Only at Osamu’s sobbing calls for you did Atsumu realize that maybe, maybe his brother had finally understood his own emotions. “Are ya- are ya okay?” The blond wrapped an arm around his twin, pulling him in close while the latter wept, for minutes, hours. It was his own fault, for not seeing all the signs and now he had lost you forever. “It’s not forever ‘Samu. Not if you fix it right now. Do you really want to give them up?”

Cries slipped past Osamu’s lips. No, no he didn’t.

The fervent knocks on your door gave way to the shaking figure of Miya Osamu, his hands balled up in fists, head aimed downwards as quiet sobs escaped his mouth. “Y- y/n.” His arm wiped across his face, failing miserably to compose him. “Pl-please talk to me. I can’t stay away from you any longer.”

Merely the sight alone was almost enough for you to reach out to him; almost. “Go away Miya. I would like to retain my dignity, thank you very much.” You reached to swing the door shut, only to be blocked by a trembling arm. There were no words but you could see it in his eyes – something, something had changed. It was saddening, watching the strong, self-confident spiker fall to his knees at your bedroom door, no longer able to hold it open.

You’d tried all your life to pry open the door between the two of you, making every effort to keep you both close, getting along with his friends, cutting off ties with anyone he didn’t deem fit to interact with you. You did it for him – but you were tired; holding the door open this long, it hurt, a deep ache that pulled on your heart strings; binding you to him but at what cost?

“I wish-,” your voice came out quivering, your lips carefully trying to form words around the lump in your throat. Osamu glanced up, gazing at your through watery eyes, hopeful, longing. “I wish you would have told me, before I invested so much of myself. But then again, I should have realized, that when something seems too good to be true, Miya, it usually is.”

He gets up slowly and reaches to you, with shivering fingers, but you step back and his fingers clench into a loose fist, eyes showing emotions that have never graced his face before. Atsumu promised, it’s probably not too late yet. You can still convince them. But behind your stained face, was resignation. You were no longer his. He had lost you, the ground underneath him crumbling away, the thread that you had so carefully woven the only thing connecting the both of you.

A thread, that could not bear anymore weight. Before he could say anything to bring back what you had before, you spoke. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry I wasn’t everything you wanted. But I’m done. My heart is tired of being played with.” You glanced at him with determination clear in your eyes.

“N-no, no please y/n. Let me explain.”

“I think, I think this is goodbye Miya Osamu. I hope you find someone who made the moon seem as beautiful to you, as you did for me.” With that, you gave him a forlorn smile, shutting off the door that connected you to him, snapping any threads surrounding you. Not another word was exchanged ever.

And yet, at that moment, you were tied, sitting on either of your mahogany bedroom door, weeping for someone you would never have.

[librarianandguardian]

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

[skiller0dani]

Always | Draco Malfoy

M A S T E R L I S T Harry Potter Masterlist

smut requested requests info

wow I got such an amazing response to Part 1, thank you! So here is the highly requested Part 2! Enjoy :) also I miiight have listened to the Lion King soundtrack (this song specifically) while writing this?? I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s what was making me feel creative don’t judge me. Part 3 maybe? ;)

Part 2/10 (Part 1)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)

also there aren’t enough words in the English language to describe the amount of love I have for Draco Malfoy. I’ve been reading these books and watching the movies since I was like 3 or 4 years old (I’m not even kidding). I always connected so deeply with Draco, I truly adore him. And while Tom Felton did an excellent job as Draco, it really is the character I’m in love with. 

Read Part 3 here!

Missed Part 1? Catch up here!

Nothing felt right, and you didn’t know why. Everything just felt, off. The looks you were getting from Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t help either. You tried to keep your focus on the parchment in front of you, but the look Hermione was giving you was starting to irritate you. 

“What?” You asked impatiently, looking up at her and thoroughly startling her. She quickly shook her head before you packed away all your things and pushed out of the common room. They all looked at you with pity or concern, and the fact that they’re worried isn’t what annoys you. It’s that you don’t know why they’re worried. You felt emotion swelling in your chest and you don’t know why. Dammit! What’s the matter with you? You furiously wipe away tears, desperately wishing you knew what was going on lately. You followed the direction your feet took you and found yourself nearing the top of the astronomy tower. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize anyone was here.” You mumbled uncomfortably when you noticed somebody leaning against the railing. He doesn’t answer, but by the glimpse of white blonde hair atop his head you know who it is. Draco Malfoy. 

You feel the urge to speak to him but you don’t know what to say. “It’s fine, I was just leaving.” He says gruffly, his face void of emotion as he turns to head to the stairs. You watch him go down the stairs and your feet are moving before you can stop them, “you don’t have to go. I don’t mind if you stay.” You say softly, a blush searing over your cheeks. Draco’s eyes flutter across your face before laughing bitterly. “I’d rather not, you’re nothing more than a filthy mudblood.” He spat, with something you couldn’t understand gleaming in his eyes. You flinched, recoiling from him before turning back up the stairs- wiping tears from your eyes. You don’t know how you let yourself forget how cruel he is, how unloving. You won’t make that mistake again. 

Draco turns down the stairs, his throat closing as he blinks hot tears from his eyes. You have no idea how badly he wants to hold you, to press his lips to yours and tell you how much he loves you. But he’s a Death Eater and you’re related to Harry Potter. Being with you, even in the same room as you, is too dangerous. Draco just feels numb, and he doesn’t want to feel anything anymore. 

Harry knows sooner or later he’s going to have to ask Malfoy what on Earth happened to you. One second you’re crying into Harry’s shoulder about how you feel like you’re losing Draco and then that evening you’re your usual bubbly self, laughing and doing your work and saying ‘Draco who?’ If Draco altered your memories like Harry feared he did, he wants to know why. The only reason Harry isn’t angry is because he knows how much you mean to Draco, so if Draco changed your memories then he must have thought doing so would keep you safe. 

You lean against the railing, feeling a weird sense of deja vu as you turn to press the railing to your back. Your hand curls around the cool metal railing, looking straight ahead of you at someone you feel should be standing there. It feels like an itch at the back of your head that you can’t scratch, just bugging you constantly. Something is wrong. You want to know what it is. You hear footsteps up the stairs and when you lock eyes with Blaise Zabini, surprised is an understatement. “Blaise?” Your voice comes out at a question, and he offers you a half-cocked smile. In truth he’s always had a thing for you, and now that you and Draco aren’t together anymore he assumes you’re fair game. 

“Nice night,” He comments off offhandedly. You nod with a slight blush, Blaise is cute. He’s certainly not the most attractive person in this school, annoyingly Draco is probably the best looking man in this school. Despite his cruel remarks. Blaise comes to stand next to you, slightly closer than you’re comfortable with. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you something, since you and Draco aren’t together anymore,” He starts and you furrow your eyebrows together. You and Draco? 

“There never was a me and Draco.” You correct, confusion in your tone. The confusion on Blaise’s face is unmistakable but he chooses not to say anything. 

“Right, so I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to got to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.” Blaise asks, letting his eyes drift down your body briefly. In all honesty, you hadn’t ever given Blaise much thought all you knew was that he was part of Draco’s group of bullies. “Uh sure.” You answer uncertainly, it could be fun? You’d never been to Hogsmeade with anything except for that one time with Harry when the two of you sneaked into Hogsmeade through Honeydukes cellar. It would give you a chance to know Blaise better, maybe he wasn’t as bad as he seemed. 

The portrait closed behind Blaise as he’d entered the common room, a look of smug victory strew on his face. “Hey Draco, I asked Y/N to Hogsmeade, hope you don’t mind.” Draco stiffened immediately. His eyebrows furrowed together and a pit formed in the bottom of his stomach, “what?” Draco’s voice was tense as he turned to look at Blaise. His first reaction was to lash out violently, but then Draco took a deep breath. As far as he knew, Blaise wasn’t a Death Eater and neither were his parents. Being with Blaise could keep you safe, so despite how every single cell in Draco’s body wanted to strangle the life out Blaise, he turned back in his chair. “Okay.” Is the only word Draco could manage, much to Blaise’s surprise. He wasn’t expecting Draco to be alright with it. 

His heart feels like it’s being squeezed in his chest, but Draco simply stands from the couch placed in front of the fireplace and heads up to his bed. He can’t bare the thought of Blaise’s hands or lips on you. 

The next afternoon you’re stood in the courtyard outside the main entrance waiting for Blaise. You regret agreeing to go, Blaise makes you feel a little uneasy. When you look up again, your eyes lock with Draco’s and you feel your entire body heat up. You can’t seem to look away as he strides past you with Pansy walking with him. You ignore the nausea in your stomach when you see her laugh and grab Draco’s arm, why did that bother you so much? Seeing them together never bothered you before a few weeks ago. You tried to clear your head when Blaise approaches you with a wide smile on his face before taking your hand to lead you down to the train station. 

Hogsmeade was beautiful during the winter, with all the snow falling upon the roofs and the cobblestone streets. You let your eyes drift over to Draco, who has his eyes pointed up at the sky and a small smile spread across his face. He looks deep in thought, almost as though he’s remembering something nobody else does. There is a tint of pink across his pale cheeks, and his nose is rosy from the cold. You snap your attention back to Blaise when you feel him tap on your shoulder, “look if you have a thing for Draco still...” He trails off and you vigorously shake your head. Still?

You might be able to make the mind forget things, but the heart will always remember. 

“S-Sorry.” You stammer nervously and a sigh escapes Blaise’s lips before he smiles again. He takes your hand and leads you away from Draco and Pansy, towards the Shrieking Shack. You take the snowy path down to the Shrieking Shack, the silence between you and Blaise awkward and uncomfortable. You stop at the fence, the Shrieking Shack actually looks quite beautiful against the snowy backdrop behind it. “Cold?” Blaise asks, lifting his arms to wrap them around you. You smile awkwardly, while you are cold you’d rather not have Blaise’s arms around you. You don’t know why you feel so repulsed by Blaise, he’s been nice and he’s good looking. It just feels so insanely wrong. 

Blaise wraps his arms around you before reaching over to turn your head towards him. You close your eyes and brace when you see him leaning in, and soon you feel his lips press against yours. Well this isn’t so bad. It doesn’t send tingles through your body or give you butterflies. It’s nice, not amazing and not bad. You wouldn’t willingly do it again though, but you doubt you’ll fight him if he chooses to kiss you again. As soon as the two of you part, you pull away from him with a nervous smile. Why do you feel so nauseous? It’s almost as though you feel guilty. 

Draco’s heart had fallen far beneath him and into the fiery pits of hell, he was sure of it. He watched Blaise press his lips to yours, and while you didn’t melt into Blaise the way you did with Draco, you still didn’t reject him. Draco leaned against one of the trees, feeling the onslaught of tears surging up his chest with little he could do to stop it. He slid down the tree to sit on the wet and snowy ground, bringing his knees to his chest he lowered his head and did his best to blink the tears away, but they just kept falling. Draco heard Pansy calling his name in the distance, he’d managed to shake her somewhere on the path. He couldn’t bring himself to move, he didn’t want to move. This was by far the most painful thing he’s ever had to do- watching you with Blaise didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the way you looked at Draco. 

You were the only person to truly see him, now nobody did. He’s never felt so alone.

You’d begun to see Blaise more often, and you actually kind of liked him. He was sweet, and per your request he stopped bringing up Draco. Although you’re confused as to why he brought Draco up in the first place. You’d spent a lot of time with him in the Library, helping him study for Arithmancy. Blaise had said his Father told him to take more advanced classes, and when it came to Arithmancy, he was clueless. You however were very good at Arithmancy, so you’ve been helping him study. You and Blaise will take evening walks along the Rickety Bridge, talking about how creepy he found Professor Binns to be. Blaise was nice, but despite the hand holding, the kissing, the fooling around he still felt like a friend at best. 

You have not slept with him yet, for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to go all the way with Blaise. You’d be kissing, taking off clothes, and then it’s like an alarm goes off in your head and you have to stop. You’ll feel tears building at the backs of your eyes, and every cell in your body would be screaming at you because of how wrong it is. You just wished you knew why it felt so wrong. 

You knew that’s how tonight was going to end. You sat by the edge of the Black Lake with Blaise, watching as the Lake monster dug around for gifts to give you. Blaise found your friendship with the Lake monster unsettling, and weird. You always rolled your eyes when he told you not to accept the things the monster gave you, but you found the Lake monster to be deeply misunderstood. Dennis Creevey had fallen into the Black Lake during his first year here, and the Lake monster carefully lifted him out of the water and placed him back inside the boat. Still Blaise refused to see it as anything other than a monster, which sort of bugged you. Oddly enough, the Lake monster didn’t seem to like Blaise either. Blaise leaned back against the truck of a large tree, with you leaning back against his chest in between his legs. 

Harry did not approve of your relationship with Blaise at all, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. You tend not to judge Slytherin’s as quickly as the others and sometimes you wondered if you really belonged in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor. There were moments, like now, where you did not feel brave at all. Instead your kindness took over and you would often push down feelings of discomfort in order to please other people. You were feeling rather uncomfortable with the way that Blaise’s hand was slowly sliding lower down your abdomen, towards the hem of your skirt. You bit your bottom lip to avoid saying something, maybe if you just forced yourself to do it then you wouldn’t feel this way anymore. It would be your first time having sex, maybe that’s why you’re so nervous about it. 

So when Blaise dips his hand into your skirt, you don’t fight him. It’s easily the worst decision you’ve ever made. 

It was awful, it didn’t hurt but the entire time you were clinging to him and keeping your face pressed to his neck so he wouldn’t see the tears. You felt a horrible heavy feeling all over your entire body, your stomach was twisting. You felt as though you should drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but you didn’t know why. You felt such overwhelming guilt it felt like it was suffocating you, you have to break up with Blaise. Something is very wrong with you, and you can’t lead him on while constantly trying to avoid any physical contact with him. You didn’t even cum, you didn’t want to. 

When Blaise rolled off you, he smiled at you and you forced a smile back. “Thought you said you were a virgin?” He questioned and you nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this. 

“I am.” 

“Didn’t feel like it.” He shrugged and you only blinked at him before reaching for your clothes. You felt far too exposed. You didn’t want Blaise to see your naked body any longer than he had to. You refused to meet his eye, and when Blaise placed a hand on your shoulder you slowly turned to face him, exposing your tear stained cheeks. “Woah, baby what’s wrong?” He asked, his arms reaching to pull you close to him, but you shrugged him off. 

“Blaise I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t be with you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, you haven’t done anything I just want to be alone.” You gasped through tears, wanting more than anything to be left alone with your Lake friend. Blaise’s eyebrows pinched together in anger, scowling down at you. He quickly turned and began to pull his clothes on, “I can’t believe you Y/N. You’re just a stupid whore mudblood.” He seethed, and you flinched. You felt tears running down your cheeks as he stood. Blaise turned to look at you once more, but his eyes flickered behind you. You turned to follow his gaze and saw the Lake monster reaching out to you, with something curled in it’s tentacle. 

It was a small glass vial. It was whispering to you. 

“Do you hear that?” You ask Blaise, as if you hadn’t been fighting with him 30 seconds prior. He doesn’t respond but with a quick glance you see he’s still there, his eyes transfixed on the bottle. You reached your palm out, letting the Lake monster drop the vial in your open hand, listening as it sounded as though someone was whispering your name from inside the vial. Who was that? It sounded like Draco. “I don’t hear anything, just toss it back. It’s a weird bottle.” Blaise huffed, crossing his arms. You shook your head, bringing the bottle up to your ear. There was unmistakably whispering. 

“No, I can hear it. It’s calling out to me.” You say softly, your fingers reaching to un-stopper the vial. Shakily you reached up to take the stopper out, and the wispy blue liquid from inside flowed out into the open air before turning directly into your temple. It hit you like a train. A kaleidoscope of memories slammed into you at once. The steps, Hogsmeade, the Hospital bed, the Lake, Draco all of it came rushing back. The night he had taken your memories, the Dark Mark. It was like a dam broke open in your head, and the memories flowed back in like water. You gasped, stumbling back. Blaise immediately reached out to catch you, “D-Draco!” You stammered wildly, looking up at Blaise. All the moments over the last few weeks between you and Draco felt different now, and all the pieces fell into place. This is why being with Blaise felt so wrong, why everything felt wrong. You’re in love with Draco! 

Oh God you had sex with Blaise. 

“What did that stuff do to you? I think you need to see Madam Pomphrey.” Blaise began but you quickly shook your head, your palms trembling. You pulled away from Blaise, stumbling as you turned towards the castle. “No I need to see Draco.” You gasped, breaking out into a sprint as you headed for the castle. You heard Blaise calling your name but you ignored him, your feet pounding against the ground and the wind rushing in your ears. You felt tears flowing down your cheeks, you felt so many different emotions it felt like you were drowning in them. Draco has been alone this whole time, and you were forced to suffer you just didn’t know why you were suffering! You ran through the front doors of the castle into the main hall before turning right and sprinting down towards the dungeons, that’s where the Slytherin common room is. 

You slid to a stop in front of the portrait key, you don’t know the password. It’s late, Draco has to be inside the common room or in his dorms. You pace around outside, waiting for any Slytherin to come out or go in. You released a frustrated sob as you tugged at your hair, and after about 30 minutes of nobody coming, not even Blaise, you turned towards the portrait door. You began to knock on the portrait door, “Draco!” You called his name as loudly as you could, you doubt he could hear you but you didn’t know what else to do. You sat there, pounding against the very irritated painting, that refused to open for you when finally Blaise came around the corner. He rolled his eyes when he saw you. 

“Blaise, please can you get Draco?” You ask him but he laughs bitterly. He begins to stride to the portrait door but you stand in front of him, “why would I? You’re breaking up with me for him aren’t you?” He snaps, and you feel guilty as you look sheepishly up at him. 

“Either get Draco or I’m following you into the common room.” You threaten, pulling your wand out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to see Draco right now. Blaise rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever, I just want you to leave me alone so fine.” Blaise snaps, whispering the password so that you wouldn’t hear before disappearing into the common room. You can only hope that he didn’t lie to you, and that he really will go get Draco. You pace around the hallway nervously, you’re not sure where you and Draco will go from here but all you know is that you need him right now. 

Draco sat on his bed, he rubs his temples as the door swings open to reveal a very irritated looking Blaise. “Y/N dumped me.” He snapped and Draco merely nods, while turning so that Blaise wouldn’t see his victorious smile. Of course you dumped him, Blaise is not the type of guy you’d go for at all. He’s too cocky, too full of himself. You admire personality, and Blaise is all about looks. How good he looks, how good his girlfriend looks. He’s too superficial for you. “And she’s outside the common room asking for you.” Blaise adds after a few minutes of silence and Draco cocked an eyebrow. Why on Earth would you be asking for him? Noticing the look of confusion on Draco’s face, Blaise turns to him. 

“We were down by the lake, and she found this weird bottle. As soon as she opened it she got all crazy and started saying your name.” Draco’s blood turns to ice in his veins as soon as the words leave Blaise’s mouth. You found your memories of him. Draco is trembling as he launches to his feet and nearly stumbles down the stairs. He’s trembling harder than he ever has as he pushes the portrait open, revealing you standing there. Wide eyed and teary as you lock eyes with him. You don’t even say anything, you launch yourself into his arms, crying softly against his shoulder. “Why- why?” You cry, you can barely speak and you’re grabbing him so tightly he’s worried you’ll break his ribs. The amount of relief that Draco feels having you here in his arms is surmountable to anything he’s felt before this, but the dread quickly follows behind. 

Draco pulls away from you, but you refuse to let him go. You keep your hands clung tightly to his arms, “Draco why?” You cry, looking up at him with watery eyes. Draco keeps you at arms length from him, how is he going to explain stealing your memories from you? He never thought you’d get them back, he thought they’d sink to the bottom of the Lake... the Lake monster. “I was trying to keep you safe-” Draco began shakily but you quickly shake your head. 

“Not that, your arm.” You gasp, looking down at the forearm that had the Dark Mark inked onto it. He fell silent, merely looking down at you, trembling and holding his hands as though he’d disappear if you let go. Suddenly you pressed yourself against him again, your lips finding his with desperate need. “Don’t care, right now I just need you Dray,” You gasped in between kisses. Your lips moved languidly with his and Draco’s arms wound around your waist, feeling as if he was home for the first time in weeks. Nodding quickly, Draco lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you off towards an abandoned classroom by the dungeons. Nobody comes down here, if only he’d discovered this earlier. You wouldn’t have had to have your first time by a Lake. 

Draco pushes into the classroom, the door swinging shut behind him as his lips move with yours. Your fingernails bite into his shoulders as you grasp him tightly, gasping when Draco drops you onto a table. He stands in between your legs, his hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. You whined against his lips, wriggling your hips closer to his. “Dray,” You begged, your hand sliding down his front to cup him through his pants. He groaned softly, his shaking hands quickly finding the bottom of your shirt and swiftly removing it. His pupils dilated upon seeing your bare breasts, his hands reaching up to cup the underside of each one. You throw your head back, your back arching into him as his lips wrap around one of your nipples. 

Your hand winds into his hair, pulling him more firmly against you. “Fuck baby,” You moaned, grinding your hips into his. Draco works your nipple to a peak before doing the same to the other, and his mouth feels heavenly against you. “I missed you so much,” Draco whispered, pressing kisses in between your breasts. You sighed softly as he kissed down your body, removing each layer of clothing between his mouth and your wonderful heat as he went. Your back ached and you collapsed back against the table when Draco’s lips found your clit and wrapped around it, sucking and biting softly. Your hand curls around his shoulder as he slides two fingers into you, pumping slowly. You feel that coil of pleasure building in your pelvis, winding tighter and tighter. You begin to pant as Draco brings you up to that edge and with one flick of his tongue you’re cumming hard against him. 

“Dray, I need you inside me. Now.” You gasp as you calm down, grabbing him to pull him back up to your lips. Draco nods frantically as his lips find yours, and his hands fumble with the button of his pants. Eventually the fabric is pushed down past his hips and Draco is lining himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in. His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re not as tight as he was expecting, but when you press your lips to his neck he gets lost in your body and begins to thrust into you at a steady pace. Your forehead presses against his, your hands holding his body close to yours as your lips find his once more. You kiss him sloppily, slowly, pouring all the emotion you felt bottled up these last few weeks. 

When you cum around him it feels like magic, it feels more perfect then anything else ever has. It feels right. 

Draco carries you back to your common room, ignoring snickers from people passing by. He kisses you sweetly, “I love you.” You whisper to him, Draco smiles. “I love you too.” He says, kissing you again and again before finally turning back to his common room. There are tears in his eyes, he had a plan b from the very start. This is going to be harder on you then it will be for him, and honestly he’s scared of the person he’s going to become because of this. It was you that made him a better person, if he never met you he shudders to think the kind of person he’d be today. Guess everyone is going to find out. 

Draco kneels in front of his bed, his wand in his hand, and a letter tied to his owls leg. The letter is addressed to you. Draco closes his eyes as he lifts the wand to his temple, and he concentrates on the memories he wants to remove. You underestimate just how far Draco would go to keep you safe, you really do need to stay away from him. Feeling a tear cascade down his cheek Draco takes one last shaky breath, letting himself remember you in a way he knows he never will again. 

With another breath, and a tremble in his palm Draco opens his eyes. 

“Obliviate.” 

*** @justmesadgirl​

[alorenawrites]

On Words and Meaning

So I've been thinking a lot about how Loki is being discussed and the words used, particularly by Hiddleston, given his bent for using literary language in his descriptions. There are three words I want to touch on in this little post, one of them definitely rooted in his usage.

So the first I want to touch on is the term "romance." We've heard (often from Hiddleston), that Loki is, at heart, a romance. I think there's a dimension of the discussion missing in these conversations in that is important to consider.

To the layman, a romance is simply a love story, sometimes with a sexual undertone. But in the literary sense, a romance is a much deeper genre. I want to consider that this layer may also be present in Hiddleston's intent on using the term in describing the story arc. It certainly is in mine, as someone with a fascination with literary form and also with an English degree who has spent way too much time exploring genre.

So firstly, we need to define "romance." From literaryterms.net:

I. What is Romance?

In the strictest academic terms, a romance is a narrative genre in literature that involves a mysterious, adventurous, or spiritual story line where the focus is on a quest that involves bravery and strong values, not always a love interest. However, modern definitions of romance also include stories that have a relationship issue as the main focus.

II. Examples of Romance

In the academic sense, an example of a romance is a story in which the main character is a hero who must conquer various challenges as part of a quest. Each challenge could be its own story and can be taken out of the overall story without harming the plot.

Example 1

A knight who wishes to prove himself by recovering a stolen heirloom from an enemy may find himself attempting to make his way through a dangerous wood filled with thieves.

Once he has accomplished this challenge, he may find himself climbing a tall mountain on which a group of people are in trouble. He would save the group somehow, and then move on.

Then the final stage: the enemy’s kingdom. There may be a fair maiden whom he meets and somehow helps or rescues, or perhaps she helps him.

But the fair maiden is not the focus of the story – his quest is the focus. Each story can be taken out, yet each builds the hero’s strength to face his final quest. These stories tend to be serious rather than humorous and touch on strong values.

In considering this, I've thought about Loki's arc as a quest that does, indeed, involve the discovery and exploration of strong values with a three part quest, though I don't think the quests entirely stand on their own. The overarching theme is about Loki discovering his sense of self- his quest to become a full person, not just a trope for the universe to exploit so others can reach their better selves. I divide the show up in to three quests. The first, in episodes 1 and 2, is Loki finding a sense of purpose in the new world- his quest is to discover who this new variant is and where they are hiding. This is resolved by the end of that second episode. The second arc takes place in the next two episodes- Loki discovering his empathy for others is the continuation of the overarching personal development plot, while his quest is to discover Sylvie's goals and to uncover/share the truth behind the TVA. And in our third section, episodes 5 and 6, we get the culmination of the personal growth arc in his ultimate discovery of different facets of himself (illuminated by the different elements of self shown in the multitude of variant Lokis) while the quest is to uncover who is in control of the Sacred Timeline and why. The differences in colour palettes, settings, tones, etc. between the three episode pairings is a part of how I started to distinguish my thoughts on each. And regardless of the visual distinctions, I most definitely see the entire arc as exploring strong values and bravery, though the bravery is multi-layered, showing not only the visible bravery of facing down an apocalypse, Alioth, etc., but the internal bravery of challenging one's self and digging deep into discovering who one really is. This is a theme of queerness that I see lingering in this series- discovering who we are is a process, not an outcome.

I think that this definition of a romance, in the classical sense, is a little oversimplified, as there is often a theme of discovery of self or improvement of self along the way. In a Gothic romance, themes of "the people are the real monsters" come into play (Crimson Peak is an excellent example of this)- there may be elements of the supernatural, but the real thing of which the viewer/reader should be afraid is the person behind the curtain. Gothic romances also often do include a love story arc, but it is often deeply flawed on some level and often also includes some sort of sexual or romantic awakening, often by a female lead, that leads to the discovery of whatever darker is taking place (Crimson Peak turns this on its head in that it is Thomas' awakening with Edith that leads to his turning point and Edith's realization that the Sharpe siblings are the monsters, not the ghosts in the hall). The themes of discovery of self, or of the fortitude of moral values, or of the journey of a person's development, play into both a Gothic romance and its foundations in a classical romance.

So. There's part 1 of this ramble.

On to part 2!

The next word I want to examine is the term "relationship" and its companion, "love." Now, mind you, I come at this from a queer perspective as a demisexual, demiromantic individual, so these two words are ones I've spent a LOT of time pondering, in the quest to define my own identity.

We've heard the term "relationship" tossed around so often with only a romantic implication attached, but in truth, this word is so much more broad than this. You are in a relationship with your barber. You are in a relationship with your cat. You are in a relationship with a spiritual advisor, a professor, your best friend, your partner. Just because it is so heavily used in this way doesn't mean the relationship is only an intimate one (though intimate relationships are also not inherently sexual or romantic in nature, either, so let's remember this as well). Now if we break down what a relationship is, it's just a consistent interaction with someone based on some common interest or goal. It's a remarkably benign word. Its connotations, however, take it in a multitude of directions.

So let's look at it through the lens of an intimate relationship and add in the component of love. We'll start with just a blanket statement that love is not only one single thing. It isn't just romantic. It is our family, our friends, our pets, pie, the colour blue, that feeling of perfection when the waves of a warm lake brush over your calves...love is embedded in the experiences of these things. We love them. Love it as vast and broad as relationships. We love places, people, things, and experiences. We love ourselves (or we try to learn to).

In my world, through my particular brand of queerness, love changes in intimate relationships on a regular basis. I love my partner dearly. But on some days, that love is to my best friend, while other days, it is a romantic love and on others, sexual expression may be involved, but they may overlap in different ways. Sexual expression is independent of romantic attraction and the degree of each isn't tied together in any way. If we can separate these things, I think we can see the relationships in our everyday lives in different lights and with greater complexity.

I also think that looking at these things through the lens of diverse sexual and romantic experiences can inform how we interpret the Loki x Sylvie pairing and why some of us just aren't bothered by it (though certainly not the only reason people aren't).

We've been told Loki loves Sylvie. That much is beautifully clear. But love (and being in a relationship) doesn't automatically mean that 1) both parties are experiencing it in the same way, 2) both parties have the same approach or priorities, 3) the level of romance is necessarily the same between the people involved, 4) that sexual attraction exists at all.

Sometimes a kiss is a form of communication and not tied to the want to shag someone.

So this is where my interpretation of this particular pairing comes into play. I do see the story as a romance, in the classical sense, but also with a slight streak of the more modern sense involved. The focus is still on the quest, even when the love story emerges. And that is where I see the priorities of these characters and their definitions of the relationship differing and I analyze it through these different dimensions of love and relationship orientations.

Loki actually embodies one of the traits I've seen listed for demisexuals- we hold our friendships extremely close and because we hold our friendships the way we do, it isn't uncommon for us to end up with crushes on our best friends (and no, they don't generally develop into other forms of relationships, but they could). This is the phase in which I see Loki by episode 6. He has formed this intense bond, unlike any other it seems he's had, and his heart is breaking over the thought of losing her to her own rage. All he wants is for her to be OK, remember? This isn't a selfish action. But I think it is significant that while he tries to stop her, he's not the one who initiates the kiss. All his actions here are ones that a close friend would also do for their best friend. Like, I'd try to stop my besties from inadvertently destroying the universe. I'd even throw down over it. And for the exact same reasons- the risks are too great, we need to think, and I want them to be OK. Almost everything Loki does throughout his growing closeness to Sylvie is something I'd do for one of the people I've told I'd defend- as in, I literally told some of these people, "anybody messes with you, I'll cut a bitch- just tell me who and I'm there."

So because of all this, I don't see this relationship as sexual in any way. Romantic? Possibly. But not necessarily. Even being in love with one another doesn't mean a relationship has to have a sexual component.

Looking at Sylvie, I see her also as having found companionship with Loki, but her overriding goal is, ultimately, not to bond with someone- it's her mission. And she has sacrificed her entire life because of the TVA to this mission. She tells him repeatedly, in one way or another, that the mission comes first. Yes, she does care about him, but I don't think the way she cares about him is the same as the way he cares about her because they have differing priorities and needs (and hence why she feels betrayed by him when he tries to stop her). Or at least she hasn't allowed herself to express that. When she falls to the ground after she's killed He Who Remains, I think we get a glimpse of what Loki meant to her- she is alone, she grieves, and there is no meaning left to her story. She's done what she dedicated her entire life to and the person who could have given it other meaning is no longer beside her.

I still don't think that the first thing they would do upon seeing each other is suck face and have wild sex. Would that bother me? No, not really. I can headcanon something different than what actually happens, I'm fine with that (just look at all this glorious headcanoning happening right here!) I'd like it to stay a romantic friendship (queer platonic relationships for the win- they're squishes!) because I don't think we hardly ever see those types of relationships and queer platonic relationships are incredibly beautiful and powerful and yes, based on love and maybe even romance, in their own way. They are defined by the people in them, as are all relationships.

And now to address "but she kissed him!"

Yes, she did. And I've kissed my partner when there wasn't romance involved because I wanted to share a moment, to express something deeper than I had words for (yes, even on one of my aromantic leaning days), or just because it's fun. And it doesn't have to "match" up with how the other partner feels it, either, so long as the message itself is what comes across. This is how I read the Sylvie x Loki kiss. It was a message of worthiness. Loki's entire arc, including in that scene, is in discovering if he's anyone different than the monster he's made himself out to be (and encouraged others to see him as). He tells Sylvie that he can't be trusted, falling back on the habit of characterizing himself as the professional liar, the one who can't form those attachments which are built on trust. He also identifies her as someone incapable of trust in that moment, which I think is also a projection of how he sees himself. He tells Mobius he can only trust himself and the show slowly shows Loki coming to trust others, but in this moment in the Citadel, he's falling back on a different perception of himself.

This is where the kiss comes in, for me. Sylvie isn't trying to tell him she'd jump him right then and there, if things were different. Sylvie is trying to tell him that she does trust him, that he can be trusted, and that he is worthy of the affection of a friend, even if she can't have him in her way. She is prioritizing her mission, yes, but not without giving him some sort of reassurance, in her own way, that this rejection isn't personal. That he isn't too broken to be loved. It doesn't have to go into romance (not saying it couldn't, just saying it isn't a requirement). It doesn't have to go into sexual relationship territory.

Maybe I see this so vastly differently because of my experiences exploring gender, sexuality, and romantic orientation. Maybe I see this so differently because at this stage in my life, I would absolutely kiss a friend if I felt something so heavy was going to break them. I have a friend I say "I love you" to every time we talk on the phone or video chat- we've been together for 20 years. I've got photo proof of a snuggle pile of friends when I was a young adult. I've shared a bed with a friend with no reason other than that we didn't want to sleep on the floor and why not. I've had friendships that were awkward to start and intense once they got going that are absolutely still important in my life. I've had crushes on friends that have faded and just shown me another dimension of what it is to love someone. I've watched adults who struggle to make connections to other people discover those moments of awkward "how do I do friend mode?" and come out stronger for them, with that huge sense of victory hidden behind a small smile they don't want to share with anyone else quite yet.

I see so much possibility in how we interpret a television show reduced to "it's a romance and that's sick and incest and he wants to fuck himself!" and it just saddens me that so many people have such a limited understanding and experience of the depth and breadth of human relationships and of how people love one another.

[amindofstone]

Match up, No. 9

@starlightbydaybright hat gefragt:

Hello! Saw you were taking match-ups and I was wondering if I could request one. Only done one before for another fandom, and I was wondering who I’d align with for One Piece ^^

I'm an INFP and generally an introvert, finding it difficult to express myself when I'm around people I'm unfamiliar with or just not close to. I can be both quiet and shy; quiet when I have no interest in making good impression on that person (a stranger I'll see once and never again) and shy when I'm genuinely trying to make myself acceptable to them. But, I do trust easily, so it's not hard to get close enough with me that I'll open up about almost everything, so long as they understand have my boundaries (that'll shift depending on how close). I'm also very affectionate with people I'm close with, particularly through physical touch, since I've been pretty touch starved. If you're close friends with me, you can find me constantly looking for a hug, but I can respect boundaries since not everyone enjoys contact.

The situation would be a bit different romance wise, since I’d revert a bit back to my introverted side, but also very affection-seeking at the same time. I say affection seeking as in I’d crave time and activities spent together with them, but I’d be afraid to ask/initiate, at least during the early beginnings of the relationship. I’d be constantly seeking affirmation of their love, and since I’ve never been in a relationship before (but desperately wanted one), they’d be constantly receiving my love too ❤️

While being an introvert in reality, I find it much easier to speak with confidence online. as I actually have time to contemplate what I can say. It's when I'm either with close friends or on the internet, that I can go on passionate endless rants or show my passive aggressive side. I'm usually pacifist, but if something irks me enough, I can and will pitch in snide/sarcastic remark or two, or if it's more serious; I will write out whole sophisticated and well worded paragraph that'd sound all polite with a hidden snarky tone.

I'm pretty much a hopeless romantic, so there's lot of couple things I want to try when I find someone. Back hugs, bridal carry, tickle fights, you name it. While I do enjoy these displays of affection (comes with the happy kind of embarrassment aka. I feel embarrassed that others sees it but I’m happy because I know they’re not doing it out of maliciousness and because they truly love me), small gestures are appreciated too; a gentle squeeze of the hand, a passing smile, etc.

As for hobbies, I enjoy reading, writing, (occasionally) drawing, but most of all; probably singing. I enjoy a wide variety of songs, depending on what mood I'm in, but I particularly like songs about love. Looking for someone to sing the duet love songs with me, doesn't matter how good or bad they are at singing. They can be tone deaf for all I care, it's the thought that matters 😊

I'm very emotionally sensitive, and can both laugh and cry easily. A random stranger online wished me good day? I'll be in good mood for awhile. Watched a 'mildly' sad movie? (Extra emphasis on mildly) I better have new box of tissue on the side just in case. It'd be nice to have someone that can either comfort me or at least tolerate my emotions, so I wouldn't be irking them 😞

I don't really have a type when looking for significant other but being an INFP does make the romance thing complicated. It'd be nice to have someone that's far along on the extroverted side (just not happy go lucky and can be serious) since, despite being introverted, I like to experience new things. I'm just too afraid to try alone and prefer it if someone else recommends it first. Someone to prompt me and nudge me to do something, but won’t take it too far if I really looked uncomfortable. (I’m also a procrastinator so they gotta find out the right ratio between pushing vs. taking it too far 😅) In relationship, I'd value trust and loyalty the most, since both are important in keeping the healthy relationship. If both sides could equally trust and be trusted, then there wouldn't be place for insecurity or fear. This ties in with another part of me being an INFP; I want a relationship that lasts forever. While it's weird to decide how long lasting the love will be early in the relationship, I don't think I can fully commit myself to someone, knowing that it'll end (through the other side falling out of love with me, finding interest in someone else, etc.) (natural causes like death are fine, even though I will still be sad 🥲)

As for appearance, I’m a 5”4 female with slightly wavy black hair that reach nearly to my waist. I don’t think I’m particularly short, but then again, every anime character seems to be straight up giants XD (Man, I was born with the wrong genes) I’m overall very plain, with black hair, brown eyes, but I’ve always been told I had pretty long eyelashes and big bright eyes. Average weight for my height, and flat chested :’)

As for the preference for gender, I’m mainly attracted to guys. I had some (very few) crushes on a small selection of female anime characters, but that were very rare, like 3, compared to my (insert large number) male crushes

Thank you in advance and sorry for how long this is 😔

P.s. I feel like I need to emphasize I’m still an introvert, since the personality I described is only limited to my very small friend group

a/n:

Hey there? How are you doing? Thank you so much for requesting. First off I should be apologizing for making you wait so long. I hope you´re not mad at me but lately there is a lot happening in my life. In my private life but also in my college life. But let´s put that aside and get to your request.

I have to thank you for the detailed info about you because that helped me to choose a match up for you so much. Like I instantly could think of someone. Not only did it help me to match you up with someone but also to come up with a plot. So I came up with this little imagine/hedcanon… I really don´t know what to call my work for the imaginies so I go with work. XD Anyways I really don´t know what to do at this point. Your request and your personality gave me such a good idea for a plot that I tried my best to keep it short because I decided to turn this request and my ideas and thoughts that are flying around in my mind to an actual FANFICTION! AHHHHHHHH. I can´t stop thinking about it. The idea sounds so damn good in my head that it makes me smile like an idiot right now! Uff I can´t wait to find time writing it down. AHAHH, but I fear that I already gave aways so much with this!!!! *pouts Doesn´t matter I´ll do it anyways. AHHHHHHHHHHH Thank you so damn much for requesting!

Anyways! Back to my work now. If there is anything that bothers you or you simply hate please make sure to tell me so I can change it and give you whatever you´d like. Other than that happy reading my dear!

Match up rules can be found HERE.

Warning(s): Maybe grammatical or spelling mistakes since English is my third language and I´m still improving in every aspect (Please have mercy on that.)

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me if this is shared or published in any other platform or any other way. Please respect me as the writer and my work. Picture is not mine. Credits to: I sadly don't know. Please tell me of you know so I can give credits. Thank you in advance. !!!

· I decided to pair you up with KILLER

· Like am I the only person that thinks that he is not getting the screen time and appreciation he deserves? Because that is the damn case! ODA GIVE THIS MAN THE LOVE AND APPRECIATION HE DESERVES. And while we´re at it I wouldn´t mind if I would get a bit more of Eustass Kid too… Thank you in advance. <3

· But that’s not the point. Please dear requesting beautiful human being give this man and me, your hopelessly dreamy author a chance. Thank you, I really appreciate. <3

· aNyWaYssssS.

+

· “y/n? Are you still awake?”, asked the blond man softly. “No worries I won´t make you carry me to bed again.”, you said with a giggle. You couldn´t see his face but you knew that he was smiling. “I don´t mind that you know? I like having you close to me without having to fear to see you hid under the blanket for who knows how long.”, you rolled you eyes and hit his arms. “That only happened because that idiot captain of yours annoyed the hell out of me. That was embarrassing Killer.”, you slowly put one leg over the railing and then the next one. Making sure you don´t fall down the ship. “What happened? Didn´t you drag me out our cabin to watch the stars?”, asked the muscular man who held you close to him while making sure you didn´t fell. “I did but now I´d like to look at something different. Something even more beautiful. Something that gives me warmth and happiness. Something that keeps me alive and always makes sure I am doing fine.”, talking to the blond pirate while sitting at the railing was one of the rare moments you were close to an eye level with him. “You mean my mask?”, asked the man with a tiled head that got you to roll your eyes and hit his chest. “Great you destroyed the sweet moment. I hate you. Make a step back so I can get down. I want to go back to bed and drown in regret of dating you.”, you tried to push him away but he was obviously stronger and threw you over his shoulder. “Of course you hate me. That was also the exact same thing you were moaning a while ago. Let´s go back to bed nerd.”

· As sweet and loving your relationship was now with the pirate it also started like that. Wanna know how? Alright let me get comfortable in my bed and get started. Story TIIMMMEEEE!!!

· An island well known for their universities and scientist. An island full of top ranked doctors.

· Physics, chemistry, biology, astrology was well thaught in the schools of the island. An island well known around the world. An island ruled by a powerful devil fruit user.

· An island in which every civilian had a talent in another field. And you? You sadly had an impressive talent for languages.

· Why sadly you wonder? Well the amount of times you had to run for your dear life because some pirates could come and kidnap you and make you read the poneglyphs is immense.

· Once even the infamous Red haired Shanks came and asked you with the hope to have someone who could read them. But sadly you couldn´t. You told him that you were done with pirates coming for you or your best friends. You regretted learning all of that and hated yourself for that. Shanks and Beckman to whom your were talking to really felt bad for you and claimed the island as their territory after they had a chat with ruler and made a deal.

· That was that saved you and your friends for years and made you happy. You were thankful to the red hair pirates and always treated them with meals and drinks when they came visiting the island. You were happy for 5 years. 5 years until these stupid reckless pirates came.

· And now? Now you hated yourself all over again

· You knew that not every pirate was like the red hair pirates. Nice and respectful. They didn´t kill innocent people and destroyed civilizations only to get some gold and diamonds. But these? These were horrible. Cold and cruel.

· “Someone make this btch talk otherwise I´ll do it by cutting her into pieces only stropping when IT actually starts to answer my god damn questions!”, screamed a tall and guy with red hair.

· You were scared. Tied on a mast on their ship, you feared for your life. Screaming for help was not an option since you were already on the sea since a while now.

· The man that was yelling at you none stop was now holding a blond man with a mask at his collar and growling at him. The man might have a mask on but you somehow had the feeling that he was talking to the man with the red fur coat. “Clear the deck! NOW!!”; yelled the man before he left inside the ship. Slowly every man on deck was leaving you alone. You wanted to ask them were or why the left but you knew that they wouldn´t give you an answer. You were a prisoner. A captive. A pathetic human they took on board. With the last pirate leaving you behind, a door that was located behind the mast you were tied on closed while the need to cry grew inside of you. How long am I here by now? One hour? Two or three? Was anyone missing me back at home? Were they already looking for me? Thoughts that occupied your mind were blurring your vision. You were looking right in front of you but also not. Your eyes were wide open but your vision was back at home. Home were you belonged.

· “Hey. Hey can you hear me? Hey you alright, woman? Hello?”, a man was squatting in front of you and waving with his hands in front of your face. You were deeply lost in your thoughts that you neither heard him coming nor saw him sitting right in front of you.

· But the moment he touched you tight you screamed and got back to reality. “Please don´t touch me. Please don´t hurt me. Please I beg you. Please.”, fear was written all over your face. You saw yourself death with a huge puddle of your blood. “Alright I won´t touch you. It´s just that I´ve been sitting in front of you for 5 minutes now and the only thing you did was breath and say no. Anyways here is something to drink. You´ve been her for four hours now. Half of the time unconscious and the other one either basically mute or in a trance.”, the guy in front of you was the same one who got the mad man to leave and clear the deck. It made you wonder who he was that he had such a power but you didn´t dare to ask. “Here I hold it for you and you drink.”, the glass was put on your lips and you drank. You didn´t knew how thirsty you were until your lungs were wetted by the water. Finished drinking he put a blanket over your legs since the position your were in didn´t allow you to cover yourself properly. And the fact that you were wearing a dress wasn´t helping at all.

· “Alright. You had something to drink I got you a blanket now tell me are you able to talk to me and answer my questions?”, you nodded. “Good. Now listen to me. There is this language that is called Krisanasy. As far as I know there is a tiny amount of people who are able to speak that and you are one of these. Am I right?”, you nodded. “How well are you in it?”, you gulped and looked at the man with the mask “I know the most important basics. I remember basic grammar rules and a good amount of vocabulary but I´m not that good in it. I didn´t worked with anything that included this language since years now.”, the masked man nodded and fully sat down now. “Would you be able to get back in it if you had some books and scripts to work with?”, slowly you understood where this was supposed to lead. You knew that if you said yes they would keep you as their prisoner and make your work for them. And if they had everything they would kill you because there would be no more use for you. But if you said no now and refused to talk to him he would probably also kill you. You were in a dilemma. You didn´t wanted to die but also didn´t wanted to die after you helped them. They were criminals. Feared and hated by the government and any human around the world. You looked down on your lap and let your head fall forward so your long black hair covered your face. “Hey I asked you something. Would you be able to do that?”, his voice was deep and rough but in the same time soft and gentle. That irritated you. it make you realize that him being nice to you now was just a way to get under your skin and make you do whatever they wanted. And then they simply would kill you in the most brutal and cruel way. “Hey, woman. Are you listening?”, you felt helpless. “I don´t want to die. Please let me go. Please. I beg you. Please.”, tears were streaming down you cheeks you couldn´t hold back anymore. He came closer and lifted you face. “Listen here you are a smart woman. Stop crying for fcks sake. If I would be you I would have made these pirates work for me. Use your damn brain and stop crying. Do you really think anyone in here would kill you? Heck no! They need your help. They need your brain because all of them are basically stupid. Like damn I need you to answer all of my questions before my captain with anger issues comes and beats the sht out of me. Now answer me woman. Are you able to get back in it if we got you some scripts to work on?”, you nodded while more tears streamed down you cheeks. You felt pathetic. You felt worthless and used. Helping them would turn you into a criminal too and ruin everything you worked on. Everything the emperor did for you and the island would be wasted. “See wasn’t that hard to answer.”

· The questioning went on for a while you didn´t know for how long but you knew that a long time passed since the sun stared to set. “Alright. Now I give you two options. One, stay here. Tied up on the mast no matter what kind of weather we face. Two you swear to obey me no matter what kind of order I give you and you will be able to sleep on a bed. You will get food and tomorrow you will start working on the scripts we give you. You choose.”, with your head hung lowly you said number two and instantly got released from the chains and handcuffs. He helped you stand up and covered you in the blanket before he led you into his cabin. “Wait here. Sit there and don´t do anything stupid as long as I´m not here. If you do anything stupid I won´t be able to help you. Got it?”, he didn´t even wait until you answered or gave any reaction he simply left and closed the door after him. So you waited while sitting with a lowly hung head. Minutes passed and he came back. “Your clothes are dirty. The bathroom is empty so you can take a bath or shower. Anything you want but I´ll be in the room with you. Because of one I have to make sure no one is coming in and secondly to watch over you and make sure you don´t do anything stupid. Got it. Fine. Take this towel and these clothes. We don´t have any female crewmates so you have to be wearing with my clothes until we dock on another island and you get to buy clothes.”

· The man with the mask took care of you for the rest of the day. He took you to shower and gave you fresh clothes. You had dinner with him alone in the kitchen when no one was around and got back to sleep. And no matter what you did he made sure to keep a respectful distance towards you. Whenever he had to come closer or touch you to take care of your wounds he would warn you. The day kept going like that. Nothing else was said about the following days and the thing they wanted you for. Only necessary things were said that were needed at the moment. And you only gave short replays or only answered with a head movement.

· Slowly the day passed by and the night took over with the moon putting the world alight. You were back in his cabin with him sitting on an armchair and you lying in bed sleeping with one hand tied up on the bed.

[jalapeno-princess]

Bad For You Chapter 1

Fuckboy Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (in future chapters), smut(maybe in a future chapter I’m still debating how I feel about that)

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Being a senior in college with less than two semesters in your entire educational career, you try your best not to get stuck in situations that will bring you any kind of stress. Unlike most of your classmates, you never searched for entertainment and fun in the college nightlife; partying, clubbing, getting drunk, high and hooking up with random strangers. You believed in working towards what will benefit you in the future. One day, your English professor gives you the opportunity of a lifetime; to pass his class without having to do anything at all. Most students would jump at his offer without hesitation. But what happens when what he’s asking of you just so happens to be the last thing you would ever find yourself wanting to do? Tutoring the same person you vowed never to get involved with? Mark Tuan was bad news and you’ve sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t interact with him under any circumstances. However, the offer is too good to refuse, but will it really be worth it in the end?

A/N: Hey guys! So this is the first chapter of my new series and I already have an idea of how I’m going to go about with this story I hope everything works out the way I want it to. I’m expecting to have about 5-6 chapters, but then again I never go through with what I plan. This first chapter is just an introduction as to how the main characters meet and so it might be kind of boring and more of a filler chapter but I’m sure the next one will be more interesting. Please enjoy!

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The sound of a clock ticking during a very important exam that was worth more than half of your grade had to be one of the most annoying and infuriating noises in the entire world; you were sure of it. 

That damn clock on the wall mocked you—with each click, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to scream out in frustration and cause every one of your classmates to turn and look at you as if you were a wild animal. You sure felt like one. 

It was as though every time the big hand moved, you’d forget one important piece of information that you studied multiple hours for in order to memorize. No matter how many all-nighters you pulled in the last week, all the notes that you took and repeatedly looked over—nothing seemed to be clicking. 

Your mind was drawing a blank and it was really upsetting you. Ever since you were a little girl, you ate, breathed and slept your education. All you ever wanted was to succeed and do well in school. 

It didn’t help that your parents put this immense pressure on you to succeed—being the youngest and only daughter out of four children led your parents in to expecting a lot more out of you than they did with your three older brothers. They were also extremely overprotective when it came to you. 

Your brothers could go out and do whatever it was that they wanted; attend all these college frat parties, go to numerous bars only to get drunk off their asses and have your parents go and pick them up, drive all around Los Angeles and even leaving your sunny state of California to travel around cities like Las Vegas, Chicago and even New York. Hell, you couldn’t even cross the street by yourself let alone do anything most people would consider fun and exciting. 

Everyone who knew of your existence considered you to be a goody two shoes; the teacher’s pet. You found fun in reading and watching documentaries about murderous affairs. Most people your age were constantly partying, getting drunk, high or both. You never understood why anyone would waste their time and money on unnecessary substances such as alcohol and drugs, but you were never one to judge. 

Every now and then, your professor would inform the class how much time everyone had left to complete the exam. To everyone’s dismay, the door was slammed open; all eyes turned towards the front of the room—curious about who just entered. As soon as your gaze landed on him, you rolled your eyes in irritation. 

“Professor Lee, I’m so sorry I’m late. I—“

“I don’t want to hear it Mr.Tuan, no excuses. You have less than twenty minutes to complete your exam. There’s no retakes, so instead of trying to get out of this one, I’d suggest you take out a pen, piece of paper and start writing.” 

The boy in question made his way towards where you were sitting and gave you a smirk before sitting right behind you. Anyone and everyone who knew Mark was well aware as to why he was tardy. His tousled hair and swollen lips gave it away; it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what he was up to. 

You couldn’t care less about what he did; you hardly even knew the guy, so whatever he would do in his free time didn’t matter to you. As you began to finish up on your last few questions, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Pssst. Y/n.” 

Ignore him and he’ll leave you alone y/n. 

Every time Mark would try and get your attention, whether it was to borrow a pencil or to coerce you in to giving him the answers on one of your assignments, you’d find yourself groaning in frustration. It’s as though he got a rise out of getting under your skin. 

In the three months that you’ve had him in your English 345 class, you observed the fact that he never seemed to bother any of your other classmates except you. He had classmates sitting on either side of him, yet he never once spoke to them. 

You’ve known Mark since middle school; he was one year older than you and he lived down your road, but the two of you never really interacted with one another. You came from two different social groups; his group of friends were very well known throughout your entire campus. 

All seven members were apart of a sports team and they had to be the most attractive guys at your university. They were also notorious for being quite the players; none of them were in stable relationships. 

Mark and his friends were known to hook up with random girls whose names they’d never end up learning and none of them slept with the same person twice. That’s just who they were. 

Every Friday night, they’d throw a party at one of their apartments, one of the sorority houses or they’d rent out a hotel room. You made a pact with yourself to never get involved with any one of them. The last thing you needed was to get your heartbroken by an asshole who could give less of a shit about you. 

You refused to allow any one of his friends; Mark in particular, take advantage of your kind hearted and gentle personality. As much as you wish you could be a cold-hearted, selfish person; especially because so many people have done you wrong in the twenty-two years of your existence, you could never hurt anyone or do anyone wrong the way they would so easily do to you. It just never felt right. 

However, Mark Tuan was someone you wouldn’t care about hurting. He obviously didn’t care about anyone but himself and his atrocious group of friends; so you never allowed him to irritate you for longer than a few minutes. Luckily, he never took things further than a couple of snarky comments and throwing paper airplanes at you every now and then, but you could do without all of his childish antics. 

Sometimes, you wondered why he chose you of all people to pick on and disturb. Maybe it’s because you were one of the only people he’s known since childhood, or because everyone was well aware of your friendly and welcoming personality. You were also considered the teacher’s pet for most of your professors. 

A few of them; your biology, calculus—and even your English professor for this class had asked you to be their teacher’s assistant because they were confident they could trust in you to help them with their classes. Unfortunately, you had to decline. 

With having a full-time job and taking on five classes, there was so much on your plate already and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give them the support and time they needed from their assistants. You had only three questions left to answer and you were more than happy to finally finish the test. 

The word exhausted wasn’t even enough to describe just how tired you were. You worked a ten hour shift yesterday because two of your co-workers called in sick and you didn’t have the courage to tell your boss that you were tired from pulling an all-nighter the day before. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment and fall asleep for the rest of the week. The constant tap on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts and for a second, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of an exam. A groan of disbelief was at the tip of your tongue; who did he think he was coming in to class just minutes before it ended, expecting you to help him because it was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Y/n, what did you get for number 5? Hey—pssst—y/n—“ 

You continued to scribble down a few more sentences on the last question; wanting nothing more than to get out of the lecture hall but Mark adamantly had other plans. 

“Come on, please? I don’t know how to answer this—“

“Mark, this is an exam. I can’t help you—“

“Just this one time. I promise. I’m already doing bad in this class. I can’t afford to fail—“

“Well that’s not my problem Mark. You need to learn how to manage your priorities better—“

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“ 

Right as you were about to retaliate and make a comment about his fuckboy lifestyle, a new presence joined the two of you and you felt yourself tense up at his words. 

“Mr.Tuan, Miss y/l/n, is there a problem here?” 

You shook your head in disagreement and mentally cursed the older boy for putting you in this situation. Not once in your entire educational career have you ever been called out by one of your teachers for not doing what you were supposed to and that was because you never failed to accomplish whatever it was that you were expected to do. There was no way you would let Mark Tuan out of all people get in the way of the reputation you’ve worked so hard to maintain as one of the top students at your university.

“No problem here sir, I was just asking y/n to borrow an eraser.”

Absentmindedly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how easily the lie fell from his lips. This happened to be the first class you had him in, but you had a huge feeling he was like this whenever there was something he desired. Whether it was school related, or a way to soothe his carnal urges, Mark would do whatever in his power to get whatever or whoever it was that he wanted. 

It was adamant that he wasn’t going to do well on this test no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t strike you as someone who studied, nor did he seem like he cared about his education in the first place. None of his friends did. College was more about the night life experience; the alcohol, constant partying, drugs, sex—school was the last of any of their worries and you believed that one day, it would all come back to bite them all in the ass. 

“Hm, is that so? Well then, please return back to your exams and if you don’t mind staying back, I’d like to talk to the both of you about something.”

If looks could kill, Mark would be six feet underground with the glare you were now sending him. The universe was not on your side at all today. Not only did the coffee shop get your order wrong, but your botany professor assigned you a group project you weren’t at all excited for and now—you were in trouble for something that wasn’t even your fault. 

To both his and your surprise, you turned around and flipped Mark off. You hated the fact that his stupidity and ignorance was causing you to do all of these spiteful actions that you have never once done to anyone else. He was just that big of a narcissistic asshole and with the way he smirked at you, it was all the more evident that he was enjoying himself. 

Mark got in trouble many times in class—or so you’ve heard people talk about. Everyone talked about him; no matter who it was, every single student on your campus knew of him. Some had nothing but envy and respect towards him and others never understood what was so good about him that the boys wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be under him. 

You were one of the latter; other than his devastatingly handsome looks and how much of an amazing volleyball player he was, Mark didn’t have anything else going for him. He was the definition of a prick; he was cocky and treated people like shit. He also had a brain the size of a peanut which came as a shock seeing as how his younger brother Joey graduated over a year ago and had his bachelor’s degree in pharmaceutical engineering.

In fact, the entire Tuan family seemingly had great heads on their shoulders. Mark’s father owned one of the highest ranking tech companies in all of California. His mom and his oldest sister were realtors. You understood that his wealth and the success of his family were the only reasons why he wasn’t expelled from school. If it were anyone else, they would have been kicked out as soon as their g.p.a dropped below 2.0 like Mark’s was rumored to be. 

“Good going dickhead.” 

He cheekily winked at you before turning his attention back to his exam. You were going to make his life a living hell for what he put you through. Less than ten minutes later, your professor let the entire class know that time was up and one by one, your classmates began exiting the room. You could feel your blood pressure and anxiety levels rising at the thought of getting detention for Mark’s unintelligent disruption. 

As soon as the last person left, you began to come up with what you were going to tell your teacher. You were willing to admit the fact that Mark was trying to cheat and get some answers from you. It wasn’t as though anything bad would happen to him anyway. 

He’d get away with trying to get you to give him answers and maybe even torment you for throwing him under the bus. Oh God, what did you get yourself in to? Your professor sat on his desk as he motioned for the two of you to walk towards him. 

A soft sigh fell from his lips and you were sure you could pass out because of how nervous you were. Even if you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, you were still freaking out about the consequences that came with helping someone on a test. 

“Y/n, I just want to start off by saying you’re not in trouble. So, there’s nothing you need to worry about. However, it has come to my attention that you are looking towards getting an internship at the state capital. You’re majoring in law right? Well, I have a proposition for you, and I know—you might not like this and I’m sorry for asking you to do me such a huge favor like this. I’m sure you’re already busy as it is, but—“ He didn’t even have to ask just yet, you already had a feeling that his favor had to do with the remarkably inadequate boy on the right of you. 

“Could you tutor Mark for me? Well, not just for me. His professors sent me emails about what they can do to help him.” 

He turned over to Mark and released a soft sigh. You felt as though you were going to throw up. Tutor Mark? Seriously? You would rather rip out your eyelashes one by one. There was no way you would do such a thing. Sure, you were willing to stay after class and help your professors grade papers or you could come up with lesson plans in order to cut down the amount of work they had to do, but there was no way in hell you were going to do anything with or for Mark. 

“I don’t like talking negatively about students. I know you’re a smart kid Mark. I acknowledge the fact that you do try; you’re such a great writer, but you don’t put your heart or mind in to anything beneficial. There’s honestly nothing else I can say or do to get you to try harder. You have so much potential, but you fail to use any of it. You could go far in life Mark, but you choose paths that will bring you nothing but destruction. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still so young and I’m sure you want to live your life to the fullest. But sometimes, you need to give up any kind of toxicity that will only bring you down. Y/n—a few other professors and I are willing to write you multiple letters of recommendation and I’m going to give you an immediate A for this class. You don’t have to worry about any other exams or assignments. Most of your time will be taken up trying to help assist Mark. I still expect you to listen in on our lectures just so you can understand and learn the course material, but you don’t have to worry about studying for any tests. I trust that you would pass all of them nonetheless. I know, I shouldn’t be asking you to help another student and please don’t feel like you have to do this. But just know that I and all your other professors would be more than grateful if you do decide to go along with my offer. I’ll give you a week to think about it. You may go now.” 

All the blood in your body immediately began to rush to your head. Everything your professor explained to you went through one ear and out the other. You were being offered to pass the class with flying colors without having to worry about completing any assignments or taking quizzes—anyone in their right minds would willingly accept his proposition. It was the easiest A you could ever receive, yet in order to access it, you would have to go against everything you’ve set your mind to. 

All the pacts you’ve made with yourself regarding Mark or any of his inconsiderate group of friends, were you really going to allow yourself to get involved with someone notorious for manipulating and taking advantage of other individuals without a care in the world? Sure, you wouldn’t have to worry about one of your classes and you’d have more time to focus on your more difficult subjects, but it would be at the cost of your morals and beliefs. 

Mark Tuan was no good—even if it was only tutoring, you had a bad feeling in your gut that he would end up hurting you one way or another. You didn’t consider yourself to be the kind of girl Mark would mess around with or find attractive in any way, but then again—it didn’t matter what the person looked like or what their personality was like. 

Everyone was just another body added to his count of poor unfortunate souls who were tricked in to finding their way in to bed with him. Once your professor excused you, you practically ran out of the building. Knowing that you were his only option, you were well aware that Mark would probably look for you and try to coerce you in to accepting the offer. If that did end up happening, you would stand your ground. 

You weren’t afraid of Mark, nor did you consider him all that intimidating like everyone on campus did. He wasn’t going to get to you that easily, no matter how hard he would put in an effort to. Your professor gave you a week to think about it and there was nothing your school’s notorious bad boy could say or do to influence you to agree in helping him. As you were right about to unlock your car door, you heard feet running in the distance. It didn’t take a genius to know just who the footsteps belonged to. Hell, you picked up your pace in order to avoid him. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

If only you could continue your cold facade; there was a voice telling you to jump in your car and leave without giving him the time of day. You would just deal with him tomorrow. But  you knew being brash wasn’t in your nature—you could never be mean to anyone. Even people like Mark who obviously deserved it. 

There was no way you’d forgive yourself for showing him hostility; you’d only be sinking to his level. You released a frustrated groan—did he not even take a second to think about how much of an inconvenience he was right now? First, he bothered you during a very important exam, then he got you involved in catching the unwanted attention of your professor and now you’re being asked to tutor him. 

Mark Tuan was the devil in human form, he had to be. There was no other plausible explanation as to why he is the conniving asshole you’ve grown accustomed to interact with in the last few months. It’s as if he had vengeance against you. Why else would he include you in his toxic way of going through school? You turned around to face him and crossed your arms in irritation. Right after he caught up to you, he placed both hands on his knees as if he was trying to catch his breath. 

“What? Did you sprint here?”

“Obviously. I had a feeling there was a chance you’d want to talk to me about the deal our professor offered me, but I don’t have the energy to listen to you talk me in to doing so—“

“Come on y/n, you act like tutoring me is the worst thing on this entire earth—“

“Because it is. Look, I have a week to think about this okay? So if I were you, I’d watch how you act towards me and how you talk to me. Whether or not you graduate next spring is all on me. I’m going to warn you right now, nothing you can say or do will have an effect on my decision. If I decide to tutor you, it’s because I want to. Oh, and don’t think it’s because I don’t want to do work or tests. If anything, I would rather complete assignments and study for exams. The option he gave me isn’t an easy way out, so I don’t want you spreading bullshit lies about me just to make me look bad. If I say no, there’s no trying to get me to say yes. Am I clear?” 

This was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark look worried in the many years that you’ve known him for. Almost everyone in his life, teachers, professors, fellow classmates, his friends and even some of his family members—they willingly gave him whatever it was that he asked for. You never understood why; why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t all that muscular or buff. In fact, you’d mentally call him a limp noodle whenever he’d get on your nerves because he was quite the skinny guy. 

But he’s always been like that. Mark was like a chihuahua; he was all bark and no bite. Maybe he used his family’s power and wealth against others, or maybe he would promise financial or social gain to make others succumb to his wishes. Whatever it was—you needed him to know that it wouldn’t work on you. It was obvious that no one has ever talked to Mark the way you currently were just by the way he looked at you in shock. 

You were a force to be reckoned with. If Mark considered you to be a soft spoken, quiet pushover, then boy—did he have something coming for him. He wasn’t wrong to think like that; you were a genuinely kind-hearted soul. However, that was to those who deserved it. Mark wasn’t on that list, nor would he ever make it there. Ever.

“Fine. Just—please think about it? No funny business, I promise. I just—I want to know. Be honest with me. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to cause you so much anguish and distress? Is it something I said? Did? Whatever it is, I’m sorry. Sincerely. I’m not saying that in order to win brownie points or to get on your good side, I mean it. You are the only person on this entire campus who seems to take a disliking to me and I want you to know that I’m sorry.” 

As soon as the last word of apology fell from his lips, you could feel your throat getting choked up. You wanted to believe he was trying to come up with ways to make you feel bad for him; to get you to really think about helping him out. But there was no malice in his speech—his eyes looked so sincere. If he was lying, then damn��he deserved a fucking Oscar. 

Deep down in your heart though, you knew he was being serious. Why were you now feeling bad that you were vehemently treating him like the scum under your toes? Obviously, you weren’t going to grovel at his feet the way most of the girls at your university did—but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be civil with him. 

Mark hasn’t cared about his attendance or grade in this class since the beginning of the semester—so it really boggled your mind as to why he was trying to be involved in his education right now. That wasn’t your business to have knowledge of. You and Mark weren’t friends. You’d probably never ever be friends, so the reasoning for his sudden interest in putting his focus towards his education wasn’t your problem to deal with. 

You brought your vision to the ground; your converse seemed like the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. There was no way you could look at him, you were sure you’d give him your answer if you were to look at him and see how distraught he was from your hostility. You opened the back seat of your car and threw in your bag and your books before making your way to the front seat. 

Thankfully, Mark had a conscience and moved out of the way. He probably didn’t want to get even more so on your nerves and you appreciated his new timid nature. 

Mark Tuan had finally met his match. 

Once you pulled out of the stall, you rolled down your window and took in a deep breath—not sure if you were making the right decision as the words fell off your tongue; but it didn’t matter anymore. 

“Meet me tomorrow in the library at three. Don’t be late or you can forget about having me as a tutor. Oh, and I don’t hate you. But don’t think so highly of yourself, I don’t think all that highly of you either.” 

The soft smile that was now beaming on his face pulled on your heartstrings and soon you felt a warm sensation in your chest—wait. What? Oh God—no. No, no, no. What have you done? 

You just sold your soul to the devil.

[allsassnoclass]

Hazel! Can I submit ““i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years” for lashton??

as you wish my dear

Ficmas Day 2

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Ashton knew he was screwed the moment he picked Luke’s name out of the hat for Secret Santa, but it doesn’t fully hit him until the night before the last day of school before break.  They’re going to exchange gifts once all of the students leave at the end of the day, and Ashton has to admit that he went a little overboard.

He’s supposed to wrap and bring one gift.  He has six.

“Hey, Calum,” he says once the other person picks up the phone.  “So.  I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

“Why?” Calum asks, voice tinny and almost overpowered by Michael’s very loud singing in the background.  He gasps.  “Ash, tell me you didn’t leave Luke’s present until right now.  There’s no way I can help you with less than 24 hours to go.”

“How do you know I have Luke?” Ashton frowns.  “Have you been snooping?”

“No, but I saw your face when you drew the name.”

Ashton sighs.  “Fuck, do you think he knows?”

“Well, he’d have to know that you’ve been in love with him since he started at the school, and we both know Luke is not self-aware enough for that.  You can’t drop hints with him, because he won’t pick them up.  Remember when we all went to eat and the waitress was tripping over herself to flirt with him?  He didn’t even notice.”

Ashton remembers that night well.  It hadn’t been the first time a stranger tried to chat up Luke, and just like every instance before Ashton had to tamp down his jealousy.  Luke is an attractive and appealing guy.  He can’t fault other people for noticing that too and shooting their shot.

“That doesn’t help my crisis.”

“Which is…?”

Ashton glances at the presents sitting on his floor with wrapping paper next to them.

“Can you come over?” he asks.

“You didn’t get him another dog, did you?” Calum asks dubiously.

“Of course not,” Ashton says.  “I’m not an idiot Calum.  Dogs aren’t surprise presents.  I just… still may have gone a bit overboard on this one.”

“Overboard how?”

“I have six presents and I need you to help me choose.”

Calum sighs.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, and I’m bringing Michael.”  He hangs up before Ashton can protest.  

Great.  Now instead of being subject to Calum’s quiet judgement, he’s going to have to deal with Michael laughing at him, too.

They find him sitting on the floor of his living room, wrapping paper tube in hand but no closer to figuring out what he’s doing.

“Hey,” Calum says, sitting down next to him.  Ashton grunts.  “Walk me through the presents.  Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

Michael flops down on the couch behind them.

“Well, I got him a cookbook, because I saw it at the store and know he wants to start cooking for himself more, plus it says they’re easy.  But cookbooks are so bleh, so I made a donation to the shelter he got Petunia from in his name, but I don’t want to show up and have him be the only person who doesn’t get to take something home with him at the end of the night, so then I started thinking about how he’s always late so I got him this personalized watch with his name and an engraving on the back, but I don’t want him to take it as something passive aggressive so I got him a framed artistic map of his hometown since I know he misses it, but then I thought that’s lame because he can get a map anywhere, so I called up his mom and there are these rings that you can get thumbprints engraved on so I worked with her and got one of those with her fingerprint because I know he misses her like crazy, but that’s way too much and I wasn’t sure if it would arrive on time so I got one of those books of affirmations and personalized a few for days when he feels bad.”

Calum gapes at him.  Michael pats him once on the head.

“I think you should just fuck him for Christmas.”

Ashton groans and buries his head in his hands.

“Shut up, Michael.  No one asked you.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Ashton,” Calum says slowly.  “We are teachers at a public school.  There was a $20 cap on the presents.  How much did you spend?”

“Um,” he says.  “If the cookbook was paperback it might have been less than $20.”

“Well,” Calum sighs, “at least you aren’t the economics teacher.”

“If you fuck him, it would be free.”

“Shut up, Michael!”

“Babe, stop antagonizing him.”

“But I’m right!”

Calum gives Michael a look that makes him sulk off to the kitchen, probably to eat all of Ashton’s ice cream.

“Okay,” Calum says.  “You can’t give him all of that in front of everyone.  He’ll definitely know you’re in love with him, and it’s not fair to everyone else getting smaller $20 gifts.  Wrap the cookbook and give him the rest later.”

Ashton grimaces.

“Luke deserves better than just a cookbook, though.  He’s…”

“He’s what?”

Ashton has known Luke for three years and is still no closer to figuring out how to describe him.  He’s an English teacher, yet all words fail when he thinks about the math teacher who’s classroom sits down the hall.  It makes him want to read more Shakespeare or Browning or EE Cummings to see if someone else can say it better than him.

Luke is a breath of fresh air when he’s been underground too long.  He’s flowers in bloom, meteors visible from Earth, and rain when the sun is still shining.  He’s incredibly grumpy in the mornings when he comes in to work, but always gives Ashton a smile.  He gives his students pop quizzes but doesn’t count them towards their grades, only uses them to see what concepts need clarifying.  He has his students complete logic puzzles for extra credit and brings snacks on Fridays.  He has stupid rhymes and songs to help people remember formulas and they actually work.  Ashton had never seen a group of students truly excited about math until Luke joined their staff.

“He deserves better than a stupid cookbook for his present.”

“Meet him later to give him the rest,” Calum says.  “Unless you want everyone else on staff to know you’re hopelessly in love with him, too?”

“You don’t,” Michael calls from the kitchen.  “If you think I’m bad, you have no idea what Sierra is capable of.  When she found out I like Calum, it was brutal.  Hey, do you have any chocolate sauce?”

“You were no help tonight.  You don’t deserve chocolate sauce,” he calls back.  Michael appears in the doorway with a bowl and spoon, distressed.

“I said you should fuck him.  If you need different advice, then do what Calum says.  He’s smart most of the time.”

“Aw, thanks,” Calum says.

“Most of the time,” Michael emphasizes, brandishing his spoon.  “You’re still stupid for liking the lesser science.”

“Please don’t start that again,” Ashton says.  “If you two start arguing about chemistry and physics I’m kicking you out.  I know it’s foreplay for you, and that makes it weird.”

“Well, Michael and I do have a lot of chemistry together.”

“Nice,” Michael says.  “We should use my lever to shift your center of mass.”

“I hate you both so much,” Ashton groans.

“You’d hate us less if you had a boyfriend of your own,” Michael says over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen.

“That’s not the point,” Ashton says.  “I’m not trying to get a boyfriend right now.  I just… I don’t know.  I want him to have nice things.”

Calum clasps his shoulder, giving him a small shake.

“You’re a nice thing, too.”

Ashton buries his head in his hands again.

“Hey.  He’ll love his cookbook, and if you give him the rest he’ll absolutely love that, too.”

Something crashes in the kitchen.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Calum says.  “Give Luke the cookbook.  Ask him to meet you later so you can give him the other presents.  I’ll be right back to help wrap them.”

Ashton nods miserably and unrolls the wrapping paper.

-/-

Ashton wakes up the next day with a headache already pressing against his skull.  Calum and Michael had stayed late the night before, helping wrap the presents and then poking at him until he agreed to play a few rounds of MarioKart with them.  Halfway through the first race he remembered that he still had papers to grade that he promised the students would be done before break, so he moved his grading to the living room and listened to Michael and Calum trash talk each other and the cheesy music of each course.  Nothing managed to fully distract him from the presents sitting in the corner, though, and even when he eventually went to bed he spent most of the night tossing and turning.

The kids are always squirly the day before a break, but the lack of sleep only makes his patience shorter.  The end of each class period brings a sigh of relief for everyone, and he relishes in the few minutes he gets where he can relax instead of teach as long as he doesn’t dwell on the impending gift exchange.

Not even seeing Luke this morning and having lunch with him had managed to ease some of the tension pressing against the base of his skull.  He can’t fully enjoy his company when he’s the source of his problem.

When the final bell rings, Ashton wishes he could rush out of the building with the students, but instead he puts his classroom back to rights, monitors the hall for a few minutes, then grabs his present and heads to the staff lounge.

“Hey,” Michael says, sliding up to him after he deposits his present on the middle table.  “How’s it going?”

“I’m shitting bricks,” Ashton says.  “And I slept like shit because you and Calum didn’t get out of my house until midnight.”

“Relax, dude.  It’s Luke.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ashton doesn’t say he could hate my present and then hate me or he might figure out that I’m hopelessly in love with him.  He shrugs.  Michael snorts, then promptly forgets about Ashton as soon as Calum walks in the door.  Luke walks in right behind him, so Ashton pretty much forgets about Michael, too, because Luke is wearing a red button up and black slacks and his hair is a big curly mess.  His math classes seem to be perpetually bursting with activity, and Ashton loves seeing the transition from grumpy and put-together to beaming and unkempt throughout the day.  Luke is the only person he knows who gains limitless energy from his students, always bouncing after the last class instead of exhausted by a full day of work.

Ashton doesn't have a chance to greet him before Principal Feldman walks in, promptly starting the gift exchange since "so many of us will be happy to go on break and there are a lot of us to get through."  He takes it upon himself to start passing out the presents.  Ashton joins along with everyone else "oooo-ing" and "ahhhh-ing" at each gift, but he's too distracted to try to help people guess who their particular Santa may be.

Michael gets a stapler and a gift card to an office supply store because he keeps misplacing his desk materials.  Calum gets a shirt with a chemistry pun from Anne in the office. Ashton ends up getting a small care package from Calum with some bath bombs, chapstick, and a scented candle because Calum says he needs to learn how to relax more.  Ashton is just happy it wasn't another mug with a book pun on it, because Calum likes sending him pictures of those whenever he runs across one but Ashton already has too many to fit in his cupboard.

Luke is one of the last people to open his gift.  He comments on the cute snowflake pattern on the wrapping paper then tears through it, flipping the book around to fully read the cover.

"It's a cookbook!" he enthuses.  "I need this.  Who knew I needed this?"  He looks around the room, lighting up once he locks eyes with Ashton.  "Ashton!  Is it you?"

"Yeah, that's from me," Ashton says.

"Thank you!" Luke beams.  Feldman quickly moves on to the next present and Luke opens the cookbook, pursuing the pages instead of paying attention.  By the time everyone has their present and starts to filter out of the lounge, Ashton has been doing breathing exercises to ensure he doesn't psych himself out.  Michael pats him on the back when he drags Calum out, which does less to encourage Ashton and more to ignite his nerves, but he's not about to let the other five presents he has go to waste.

"Hey, Luke," he calls.  Luke pauses in his tracks, stepping to the side to get out of the doorway and let the rest of their coworkers pass.  "Can you stop by my classroom?  There's another part of your present I need to give you."

"There's more?" Luke asks.  "Ash, the cookbook is already amazing, I don't need anything else."

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Ashton asks.

Curiosity wins out over any lingering politeness.  Luke eagerly follows Ashton out the door and through the halls to his classroom. It's tucked into a corner, which Ashton likes because it means he has a lot of windows, and he's been there for long enough that the walls are covered in posters, quotes, pictures, and some particularly striking student works.  Four boxes and an envelope sit wrapped on the desk in the same snowflake wrapping paper.

"Are all of those..."

"Yeah," Ashton says.  "I got a little carried away."

"Wow."

"Here."  Ashton hands him the envelope.  "Start here."

Luke tears open the flap as messily as he tore open the wrapping paper earlier, pulling out the donation receipt inside.

“This is the place I got Petunia,” he says.

“I know.”

“Thanks,” he says.  “I try to donate to them every year but… thank you.  They’ll be able to do some good with this.”

Ashton clears his throat.  “You’re welcome.  Here’s the next one.”

He unwraps the map next.

“I know you miss it,” Ashton says.  “There’s some star stickers in there, too, if you want to mark important places.”

Luke’s eyes glitter with memories as he looks over it.  He gasps and turns the frame towards Ashton.  “Here’s my house!  Right there.  And then over here was my school, and the movie theater…. Sorry.  You don’t want to listen to me go on about this.  What’s next?”

Ashton could listen to Luke tell him stories about his hometown all night, but he’s looking expectantly at him and there’s still three presents sitting on his desk.

He tosses him the watch next.  Luke fumbles when he catches it.  Ashton is extremely thankful that it’s packed in the box well and won’t break, especially when Luke shakes it.

He laughs when he sees what’s inside.

“I get it.  I won’t miss our lunch dates anymore.”

“Sure you won’t,” Ashton teases.  “There’s an inscription on it, too.”

Luke takes the watch out of the box and flips it over.

“‘Education is our passport to the future.’”

“‘Education is our passport to the future,” Ashton recites, “for tomorrow belongs to the people who prepare for it today.’ Malcolm X.”

“Appropriate,” Luke says.  “Thanks.”

He puts the watch on, struggling a little with the clasp.  Ashton reaches out and helps, careful not to make it too tight or too loose.  Luke’s wrist is soft beneath his fingers, a patch of smooth pale skin covering his pulse.  When he finishes, neither of them move away.

“It’s wonderful, Ashton.  Thank you,” Luke says.  “I’m going to wear it every day.”

“It suits you.”

Luke gives him a smile that sends Ashton reaching for another present before he does something uncalled for like lean forward and try to kiss him.

“This one’s for bad days.  It’s not much, but I wanted you to have reminders of how amazing you are.”

Luke rips off the paper and softens like butter once he starts flipping through the book of affirmations.

“A lot of them are generic, but there are a few personalized ones in there, and all of them are true anyway.”

“Ashton, this is too much,” Luke says.  “This is insane.  You went above and beyond Secret Santa.”

“Well.”  Ashton scratches the back of his neck, the feeling of a blush prickling under his skin.  “I can’t exactly return them since they’re personalized.  I kept seeing things that made me think of you.”

“Thank you.  I don’t--” he laughs-- “I don’t know what to say.”

“Save it until you get your last gift.  Then you can judge them all.”

The last box is the smallest, but it’s heavy with a phantom weight.  Ashton went above and beyond for this one, going so far as to contact Liz when he’s only talked to her a few times before, and Luke is either going to think it’s sweet or creepy.

“It’s small,” Luke says, testing the feel of the box in his hands.  He glances up at Ashton before taking off the paper, then again when he sees that the box is a ring box.  Ashton holds his breath while he opens it, wanting to spare himself from seeing Luke’s reaction but not able to look away.

The silver ring glints in the light, a thick band pinched between Luke’s fingers so he can look at it closer.

“What…” he trails off.

“I talked to your mum,” Ashton says.  “The engraving on the outside is her fingerprint.  I know you miss her, and this way you can have a piece of her with you all the time.

“I can’t accept this,” Luke says.  “It’s too much.”

He tries to hand it to Ashton, but he closes Luke’s hand around the ring and pushes it back towards his chest.

“It’s personalized,” he says.  “It doesn’t mean anything to me, so you need to keep it.”

Luke briefly looks down at the ring again.  When he meets Ashton’s gaze, his eyes are glistening.

“You’re going to make me cry,” he laughs.  “Sorry.  Thank you.  So Much.”

He reaches for him, and Ashton’s thankful that Luke seems to fit perfectly in his arms.

“I can’t believe you got all this for a stupid Secret Santa,” he sniffs when he pulls away.

“You deserve it,” Ashton says earnestly.  “I kept seeing things I knew you would appreciate.  Guess I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit,” Luke teases.  Ashton smiles.  Luke’s teasing is a different kind, always giving the impression that it’s somehow an inside joke between them instead of Luke laughing at him.

“I have something for you, too,” Luke says.  “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but if you got me so much I feel better giving you this one thing.”

“Oh?”

Luke reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a book.  Ashton can tell what it is even before Luke hands it to him.

“Leaves of Grass,” he says, running his hand over the vines and leaves adorning the hard cover behind the gold leaf of the title.

“You said you wanted another copy since your old one is full of annotations.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, tracing the swirling script of Walt Whitman’s name.

“Okay, Mr. I-got-a-billion-presents-for-my-Secret-Santa.  I wanted to give you something nice.”

It’s a thought Ashton has had thousands of times during his own gift-buying process, and that’s what compels him to finally ask “Do you want to go on a date with me?  We could go to dinner or a movie, maybe ice skating or something more festive?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

Ashton grins, smile threatening to split his face in two.

“Maybe not ice skating, though,” Luke says.  “I’m all legs and no coordination.”

“Dinner, then,” Ashton says.  “Do you like Italian?  I could pick you up next week.”

“I love Italian, and getting picked up.”

“Good,” Ashton says.  “Great!”

“Great!”

Ashton knows his smile is verging on dopey, but it’s okay because Luke has the same stupid-happy look on his face.  Luke’s phone rings and shatters the moment, but Ashton can’t even be that upset when Luke takes a few steps away to answer, glancing back with immense fondness and answering the person on the other line with vague and distracted noises.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke says when he hangs up.  “I have to go.  I promised Sierra I’d help her with some last-minute classroom things.”

“That’s okay,” Ashton says.  “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Luke smiles.  “Please do.  I mean--yeah.  I’d like that.’

“I will,” Ashton says.  Then, because someone has to be responsible and get Luke out the door instead of locked in a staring contest, he stacks Luke’s gifts and passes them off to him.

“Okay.  I’ll see you later!  On our date!”

“See you, Luke!”

Luke stumbles on his way out the door, too distracted trying to look back at Ashton.  He’s right: he really is all legs and no coordination.

Watching him leave with his new book in hand, Ashton thinks that he got the best gift of all this year.

[monstrousaffections1]

It’s Alright It’s Ok

I jump out of my bones as my father's angry yell erupts from the house like a slamming door. Instantly my heart feels the frost of fear glaze over the surface of my beating organ. Swallowing thickly I get off my bed and hide my computer under my bedsheets, closing it's lid to hide it's light. Silently slipping out of my bedroom I move into the hallway and walk past the laundry basket, heading into the kitchen where my parents argue, the tension that has been building for two weeks finally bursting open like a damn. I would give it a day, maybe two, before their bedroom door be locked while my father hurt my mother. Then it would take either myself or my sister bursting into tears to get them to stop fighting for another few months. Swallowing thickly, I kept my eyes down as I moved into the battle zone, Shadow, my cat, rubbed around my legs, demanding biscuits. He didn't care about the chaos, he was probably use to it by now. Opening the cabinet under the sink I got his food out as my father and mother screamed at each other.

"Shut up Carol!" The man yelled, his eyes bulging and veins pulsing in his neck. He was in my mother's face, screaming at her. The woman who had for ages from my childhood had mostly cried and screamed at this man to get off her, had began to fight back. She did that often. It only increased the fighting.

"You Shut Up!" She screamed back. I patted Shadow's back as he ate. He was a big black cat. Strong and in his youth. Going to the fridge I took a certain of milk and poured myself a glass, downing it quickly. The sound of the tv came from the lounge room. Going into the room I looked at my little sister who was watching one of my favorite cartoons. Kid vs Kat. Managing a smile, I took my place beside her. I always rooted for the cat. I don't know why, perhaps I just loved cats. Plus I could relate the mischievous chaoticness of the character. Or at least that's how I wanted to be. My mother's form entered the room just as the boy and the alien cat jumped into a cloud of dust meant to depict fighting.

"Ingrid, have you done your homework?" I sighed; couldn't she see I was trying to watch something?

"Yeah." I lied. I should have said I didn't have homework.

"Ok, well, let me have a look?" Although I appreciated my mother's involvement in school, as anyone who was anyone knew that my autistic brain couldn't understand anything the teachers gave me on paper. I also wished she wasn't as involved. I just wanted some space. I was sick of homework.

Begrudgingly I got up and went to my room, dragging my books out of my school bag and dumping them on the desk. I went and got a slice of left over pizza from the fridge and poured myself a cup of coke to try and calm my racing heart.

"Ingrid you have homework. Why did you lie?" I rolled my eyes, why did she think? I wished I had headphones like all the other kids at school. I just wanted to shut her out as she started to lecture me. Casting a blank wall around my brain I sat down at the table and started on the maths homework. My worst subject. Contrary to popular belief depicted in movies, not all autistic people are good at maths. I myself am a better at English than this. I had finished a six inch novel in a week. And I was the best story writer in class. But this doesn't matter much to the adults.

After being left alone to my own devices, I sat and stared at the first math question for about ten minutes before attempting to answer it. I know I am highly likely getting the answer wrong, but I just want to finish this and escape to my room. I wanna do this without my parents coming to help. Before I know it, it's seven in the evening. I've by now attracted the attention of my father who started by trying to help, has now ended up yelling after I have proved once again useless at math.

"Are you stupid!" he screamed at me as I sat with unwavering tenseness, staring at the page and refusing to move my gaze from the sheet. My chest was shaking. There was no other way to describe it. Outwards, I was calm. But inside my chest shook like a autumn leaf. I could feel everything building up inside me. I tried to level myself. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't start crying. I repeated in my head.

"For God's Sake Ingrid! This is easy stuff! A Year 1 could do this!" He hollered and slapped my arm with a ruler. I didn't so much as flinch. I didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"Do you even go to school!!??" I felt the first hiccup as I clenched my eyes shut and my sobs burst from my chest.

"Oh, great. Now your gonna cry." He muttered seethingly as though my melt down was a inconvenience. Mother was already serving out dinner wordlessly. This was a regular occurrence in our house. Homework that should only take five minutes, took three hours. Trying desperately to numb myself I packed up my homework to continue with tomorrow and wiped my eyes on my sleeve, trying to stop crying so I could eat dinner.

It's four in the morning when I sneak out of the house, dressed in my black hoody and trousers and my school bag on my shoulders as I lock the door behind me, take a breath, and take off running down the street. My runners pound on the side walk as I breath in the cold air of the early spring chill. I need this. Cold air, freshness, darkness just before the sun rises. Cars that pass through the street don't bother with the site of a teen girl running through the streetlights as though she were being chased. Even when my legs ache and I feel like my lungs are about to burst I don't stop. The sun's rays are barely kissing the trees by the time I reach the cultural center of my town. My throat crack a bit as a I swallow, having been dried out from my panting breaths. Rubbing sweat off my forehead I straighten up and stare at the sky. For a moment I want to disappear into the purple abyss above me. That'd be nice. Perhaps it'd be like in my stories. Just.... A life worth living perhaps. That'd be nice.

"Language!!" comes a shrieking yell from across the street. Snapping back to reality I look over to the collection of shops opening for the morning. I smile, feeling a familiar sense of warmness fill my numbed core as Bad is laughed at by his best friend, Skeppy, as the demon boy opens the shop door, peering at me with friendly white eyes. "Marr?" he calls. My smile softens as he uses my preferred name. I approach, shoving my hands into my pockets as a show of nonchalance. "Hey Bad." I raise a brow with amusement. Though he isn't fooled. He never is. I find myself pulled into a hug before I can even protest. Closing my eyes I hug him back, savoring the physical contact. That is until there is a photo snap and the blue haired boy snaps a picture. I frown and pull away.

"Skeppy! Delete that right now." I grumble, folding my arms with a frown.

"Nah. I think I'll add a few heart emojis." He teases as I fluster and puff up my cheeks. The demon beside me frowns, though his smile shows, he can never be mad at his friend. Rolling his white orbs he looks down at me gently.

"Breakfast. On the house." Bad and Skeppy were the only people I trusted. They didn't ask questions. Or offer to call anyone. They just let me hang out with them before work hours if I didn't want to be at home.

Nodding my head, I entered the café and sat down in a booth. Bad squeezed my shoulder and started the coffee brewer as Skeppy set up the tables and chairs for the day. Folding my arms to keep my fingers warm after I had pulled some of my hair out of my hood, I looked up slightly. Trying to think of a good way to start conversation.

"Did you guys sleep ok?" is it alright to ask that to people you don't live with?

Our words went back and forth in friendly small talk. Occasionally Skeppy would swear and get playfully told off by his friend. I would just laugh. Everyone in life is super serious. So it feels nice sometimes to just be around two goofs. I was given an expresso and hot pie. I savored the warm gravy taste, I wasn't even stressed but it was hard to not scoff it. A few people were starting to come in now. People on their way to work, stopping for a coffee and picking up take away. I wondered if it was nice. Living in a steady sense of movement. Where everything was the same and you knew what to do. Instead of struggling to hold together a toothpick structure simply cause nothing makes sense. I've missed opportunities for jobs simply because they've been offered while I was in the middle of a shut down. Same goes for friendships, or dates with boys, because I will just stare at them with a dumb panicked expression for a good five minutes while I try and figure out how to respond. In the end I am mistook for either rude or stupid. I am neither—Well ok I can be rude sometimes. But I'm definitely not stupid.

Feeling my anxiety levels raise I scull the rest of my coffee. Bad's tail stands on end in alarm as steam comes out of my mouth. "Careful you Muffinhead! You'll burn your tongue!" I shrugged with a smirking grin. "Hey look. I'm a dragon." I blow more steam out of my mouth. Skeppy busts up laughing from the kitchen as the demon sighs, rolling his eyes he ruffles my head. "Muffinhead." He mutters with a smirk. I hold up the cup. "Re-fill?" my hoody sleeve falls down slightly and the movement. Bad's smile slips and his eyes widen. "Holy shit what happened to your arm?" Skeppy chokes on a cackle. "Bad!?" finding it hysterical that the normally passive demon actually swore. I blinked and checked over my arm briefly, ah. Right. Pulling my sleeve down to cover the red marks from the ruler I shrugged. "Nothing. I'm fine." The demon stares for a moment before sighing in defeat. "At least let me get you some ice." Seeing the opportunity, I snicker, "But it's freezing!" Bad rolls his eyes, "For your arm, you Muffinhead." I poked out my tongue playfully.

With a cloth full of ice resting on my arm and a fresh cup of steaming coffee in front of me, I watch the pair work. Skeppy's diamonds are starting to sprout out of his arm. I do wonder how that doesn't hurt. But I'm just glad I'm not that kind of hybrid. Not that I'm any kind of hybrid. Considering how much the world changed after the Rifting, it's surprising that I'm not physically different as I am mentally. Even my sister is a Hybrid, despite my parents being human. She's a dog, by the fur coloring I'd say she's a kelpie. A car pulls up in the parking lot. It looks old, but the good kind of old. Kind of vintage, but not fancy. Just old. Through the windscreen three boys fight and seem to be bickering amongst each other. A tired looking man gets out. I recognize him. That's Philza, he shows up at school every now and then whenever Techno gets into a fight, or Tommy's pranks go horribly wrong, or Wilbur sasses out the teacher one to many times. He's a hybrid, either that or an angel. It's hard to tell. But he enters the coffee shop and walks to the counter. Huge black wings folded against his back.

"Bad, morning." He greet cheerfully and tips his weird stripped hat he always wears. I never liked that hat. It made me dizzy. He reads out a bunch of orders from a piece of paper, something about one flat-white, a mocha, a caramel latte, and a decaf frappe for Tommy. Bad nods his head and asks Skeppy to handle the order. I frown and tilt my head a bit. The strangely serious demon comes out from behind the counter and takes Philza by the arm, talking softly with him. I blink in surprise when they both look subtly towards me. I look down at the welt on my arm, pulling down the sleeve I bring my hand to my mouth and start to chew on my thumb knuckle. It seems I have over estimated the level of trust I should have given Bad. Rocking back and forth a bit I pick up my coffee cup to down it in one go. Don't trust grown ups. I'm about to pull my hood up when Philza comes over to my table, smiling down at me softly. I stare up at him with confusion. Fiddling with my fingers nervously.

"Hello, your Marr, right?" He raises a brow, his green eyes glinting with humor. My face heats up, and I avoid his eyes. "Uh.. yeah.. I think so..." he chuckles at this and puts his hand on the chair on the other side of the table. "Can I sit hear?" I blink in surprise, teachers and my parents never asked permission before they did things. Atleast my mum never did when she went through my school bag. Nor my did my dad when he turned down the music on my computer. I nod my head, continuing to rock back and forth. Sitting down he took off his hat, putting it in his lap. I stared at his blond hair that hung down to his shoulders. A crooked smile came upon his face, before it faded slowly. "Are you ok?" I started to scratch my arm. "I'm fine." This was my default response to most questions. He nodded his head as if this was a appropriate answer, he didn't pry. "How do you plan on getting to school, do you take a bus?" I shake my head, shrugging. I normally walk. Which is why I'm always late. He chuckles and takes his hat, putting it back on. "Well mate, if you'd like I can give you a ride, no strings." He winks good-naturedly. I look down, thinking for a bit. I don't trust strangers, even people with kids my age are dangerous. I look at Bad, chewing my lip. The demon smiles warmly and nods. Ok, I guess I'll give it a shot. I nod, "Yeah.. ok."

The hybrid gets to his feet quickly, "Great!" just in time for his order to be declared ready. With crow like laugh he takes the tray. "Welp, come on! The boys'll kill each other otherwise." he chuckles and heads out the door. After a moment of hesitation I follow him. The boys seem surprised when they spot me. Through a open window Philza hands the tray to Techno, a piglin hyrbid. I try not to stare at his tusks, it's rude. "Wilbur scoot over." Philza instructs his eldest son, opening the door for me. Tommy and his brother exchange a look before Wilbur undoes his seatbelt of shuffle over. I feel awkward as I get in, doing up my seatbelt and doing my best to avoid looking at the boys. As Philza turns on the engine there is a awkward, surprised silence. Until there isn't. "Who's the woman!?" Tommy inquires loudly. I wince.

[xuelingxu]

Different anon here but I also absolutely adore this ship, it's one of my OTPs. What really appeals to me about it isn't just the parallels of Cregan and Lara, but also the dynamic between Avallac'h and Ciri - Ciri has a really bad temper because of her trauma (she strikes me as having BPD) but Avallac'h is absolutely chill and balances her out well and is able to stay calm instead of being provoked, calming her down in turn. Love them, there's a huge drought of Cirillac'h content, you are an oasis in the desert. ;_;

“the dynamic between Avallac'h and Ciri” 

YES!YES!YES! Can’t agree with you more! Actually, I played TW3 first, then read the book. I don’t feel very interested in this game until I see cirillac’h game line. They totally caught me at once! I don’t know what has happened between them, but it seems these two are hiding their feelings and obviously have a thing on each other. 

Ava, a calm and chill elven mage. Ciri, a passionate and impulsive human witcher. They couldn't be more complementary, could they? Just as you said, Ava can clam Ciri down. Ciri can bright Ava’s life. They are destined to be attracted to each other because they can make up for the missing parts of each other's character, which is  beyond their control!

Ciri once said” we should stay there.” It supposed to be the Night City, They have lived together for about half a year. After so many things happened, she would rather stay with Ava in that city, which means it’s impossible for her to hate Ava for sure. As for Ava, he said”Lara is dead. My only hope is that Ciri will fulfill her calling and survive.” It seems he had step out of the shadow named Lara, kind of. Now he wished Ciri can survive the White Frost. If Ciri is only a tool, then he didn’t care about her life at all-it’s unnecessary for him to say that. He said that because he didn’t want to see her death. There’re so much to describe the dynamic between them. I have written two essays about it(book&game) on AO3. But unfortunately, in Chinese. If I have more time and energy, I will plan to translate them into English. It’s a LARGE job, god, about 37000 words. I wish I can do it.

By the way, I read the book because:

a) Know these two better 

b) Everyone shout to cirillac’h shippers” YOU SHIP THEM? ARE YOU INSANE? HAVE YOU READ THE BOOK?”

well......I have read the book and found myself even adore this ship more. Satisfied, haters?

“there's a huge drought of Cirillac'h content, you are an oasis in the desert.”

Thank you so so so much. I’m shocked and feeling pity for the huge drought of cirillac’h content all the time. I don’t know why. I think they are literally made for the fanfic: Their run away from the Wild Hunt; Their life in the Night City; Their remeet after the ending; Just so much can be digged!

Luckily, we have two outstanding works now! I recommend them sincerely! 

One is a manga from @hikaruyagi Ciri_the child of destiny

One is a fanfic from @exactlyenoughglitter Games with Eternity

I was a little sad and disappointed about the rarity of cirillac’h shippers the other day, Now I’m happy! Because dear @hikaruyagi has painted us a new cirillac’h sweet painting! Also because you different anon allies are so kind to tell me you’re also still loving the ship! I feel I’m not alone! I can go on my work of the ship!

I love it, till the end, with my whole heart!

[unholyplumpprincess]

The Lovers Card

Finally, after so long, this commission is complete! This commission is for @shoccydoccy featuring their oc Mitch and the Doctor. Husband versions of Bonnie and Clyde. I had a great time writing out their dynamic!!!

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes !!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Dead by daylight

Relationship: The Doctor/OC (Mitch)

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, canon typical violence and mentions of blood, the Doctor’s shockies being used in non painful ways, horror husbands???, roleplay of chase, face fucking, possessive behavior

Words: 5.3k

____________________

The Entity’s realm was not for lovers.  

Positive emotions here were built upon hope and a dream, a dream that would be crushed under the spider-like limbs with a haunting, twelve people sounding laugh. The Entity did not allow its play things any positivity lest it wished to destroy it. At least, that’s what most survivors would tell you. The ones who had hoped that even in a realm such as this, that their obsessive killers would  no longer  be a threat over their head.  

For Mitch, he had listened to those survivors tell their stories at the campfire when he had entered. They all sounded frightened, stressed, tired. Being one of the former lead doctors at a psychiatric institution, he made quick assumptions of their relations with each one.  

~Rest under the cut~

Laurie swore no relation to the monster who had chased her since she was merely a girl. Yet, there was something hesitant in the way she spoke, a wobble to her lips as if somewhere in the back of her mind she KNEW who this man was that followed her. Mitch assumed that he must have been family, or a family friend, but perhaps one she was not close with nor knew. Yet, the blood still ran deep. He quickly could guess PTSD, anxiety disorder, and clinical depression. Yet, how curious was her loud, fighting spirit? Her need to survive and see him destroyed outweighing her need to lie belly up and die.  

Quentin looked stressed at even any word beginning with the letter F. As if you would say a certain word or a name, and a boogeyman would come jumping out. He confided that he didn’t sleep, wringing his hands and eyes looking everywhere but Mitch as he talked about the dream killer. As if in a realm such as this, that was something funny to believe in. A child’s story.  

Mitch had hummed to show he was listening as he idly wrote in his journal. PTSD, high case of paranoia, insomniac, and clinical depression. Yet, what kept him going when it looked like he just wanted to drop and let himself get the end of a sharp weapon to his throat?  

For Mitch, he too had his own obsession. But, unlike in the way these two seemed to be. They were stressed to even think of the ones who obsessed over them, and yet, Mitch could only obsess over this...’Doctor’ they kept discussing. A killer in these very realms said to be one of the most ruthless.  

Feng had come to this realm, born in electricity and the high levels of static echoing throughout white walls and a haunting laugh. She tells Mitch this with a shrug, as if running her own killer had been a piece of cake. However, something catches Mitch off guard. Something that shouldn’t have been something too big a deal- but it’s the way she described her surroundings.  

White walls. A hospital with an eerie feeling. Different levels now overgrown with plant life and the ceilings busted open. Flickering lights. A big open room with various televisions. The gates being huge and eerie and with two ways out. A library on one side, an office on the other with old books and a record player-  

It’s all too perfect. So, Mitch had nonchalantly asked if she’d caught a plaque with a name on it. Something to tell what the hospital was possibly called?  

When the words: ‘Lery’s memorial’ pass her lips, Mitch lets the first positive emotion flood his body. Of feelings that would disgust the Entity.  

Of hope.  

Of nostalgia.  

Of...love.  

Mitch had yet to come into any contact with both that place as well as the killer known among the survivors as ‘The Doctor’. Everything had been far too perfect thus  far;  Everything fell into place just right. And if...and if it was Herman? Where had he gone? Who had taken him? Was it the same being that had come to Mitch in his dreams and scooped him away into the deadly fog?  

They both were not even the slightest innocents. In life, Mitch had matched wits, banter, and intellect with the doctor, which caused Herman to gain interest in the younger.  

Herman Carter was a man who had a fascination with both science and psychiatrics- mostly dealing with the n eurological system  and the questions such as: Why do we all think? Why is the brain so active in certain lobes? He was known among colleagues to be cold and clinical, or almost mad in a way. He was very persuasive and was known as the smartest man in the room, but didn’t have a lot of friends.  

Mitch had come to the institute as a new and upcoming doctor. Unlike Herman who had all his life been fascinated by the brain, with all the neuroscience that came with it, as well as knowing all his life that he would succeed. Mitch had led a different life. Struggling to get into college due to the costs and taking back alley jobs.  

Herman had intimidated Mitch at first. He couldn’t lie about that. He stood just as tall as he did, rich dark brown skin, signs of aging on his face but with grace. His voice was smooth and deep, always sounding refined and clinical when he spoke. His smile was one that stretched all the way to his deep black eyes, framed with crow’s feet that hinted that he grinned and laughed quite often.  

His stature and physique were intimidating, imposing, yet as time went on Mitch learned that he kind of...liked that. Besides, he wasn’t bad once you got to know him- a little off the hinges, sure, but nothing that was too much for Mitch. In fact, you could say they were a perfect match.  

Mitch, in turn, must have looked like a plain Jane up next to him. At least in Mitch’s eyes.  

Similar in height with black curls coming down to his shoulder always pulled up and out of the way in a ponytail and standing out against his peachy skin tone. His own voice was thickened with a Russian accent, his own verbal ticks leading to him tumbling over a few English words.  

Large lensed glasses cover his hazel eyes, his lashes thick and eye shape kind and softly shaped. His usual outfit even stood out in comparison to Herman’s nice suits. Mitch normally wore something akin to a collared mustard yellow shirt with a little brown tie. An earth toned sweater vest thrown over and some nice dress slacks and shoes with his doctor’s coat. Something he currently wore in the trials as well.  

The hospital they had worked had been no place for romance. Neither had Herman been looking for anything of the sort. And yet, something blossomed between the two.   

Mitch was a rather forward person once Herman got to know him. Once was a man who spoke in small talk and niceties, now became more assertive in his wants. To the point on one long night, he’d taken a drink from his cup of coffee, leaning on the counter and told Herman truthfully that he wanted to see him outside the clinic one of these times. Herman had been a bit taken back, he’d admit, normally people beat around the bush or thought him as rather ‘off the rails’.   

But all he could see from Mitch was honesty past his thick lashes as he took another drink of his coffee with a soft hum in his throat as he waited for the reply from Herman. Seeming unaffected if he would accept or deny him. And well, Herman could admit, both his intellect and appearance were very attractive. Not to mention his confidence in challenging someone such as himself.  

In the end, Herman had accepted. No guilt in his body, as if  somehow,  he knew that in the future that if Mitch caught onto the more...elaborate experiments he was conducting. That well...  

Well...Mitch wouldn’t be too innocent himself in that event. Always such an eager dog to follow.  

By the time Herman is taken into custody and offered a job under the name AWAKENING, he knows no one better than he’d want at his side for the job than his former partner and his now current husband. Convincing the higher ups isn’t a problem, not when he’s their best interrogator on the scene. And being able to watch Mitch methodically take people apart on the job? Now that was just a bonus. A delicious, delicious bonus.  

Mitch had found himself following deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. Anywhere Herman went, he followed. If Herman said they were going underground to an institute called ‘ Lery’s  Memorial’ for more experimentation to be conducted, that’s where he followed. If Herman said that Mitch was to help him figure out the fundamentals of electroshock therapy on an exposed brain to figure out mind control methods? Then, well. Mitch followed.  

Yet, even in the darkest of moments, they could find a home in the other. Another worldly couple of Bonnie and Clyde. At their jobs, they were the best of the worst. And at home, Herman would hold Mitch in his arms as they swayed in the kitchen and murmured sweet nothings to one another. Forehead to forehead, fingers laced, an everyday looking couple. Gold ring bands to match and all.  

No. The Entity’s realm? It was truly not made for lovers. It tried its hardest to keep the positive out. Even if that said couple was a quietly infamous couple.  

And yet, this begged the question. What if a survivor, was just as willing and able to give the pain as a killer was?  

What if Mitch’s theories were right and his beloved was seen as more of a nightmare than himself? If this is where Herman had disappeared to so long ago?  

Time would only tell.  

--  

Mitch learns the realms rather quickly. Taking to sketching them in his notebook in his book with the killer that was found there. He finds repetitions of these killers exist in different realms, so it didn’t seem that they would stay in their own designated ‘area’, but merely whatever the Entity picked.  

In the same way, the survivors are picked seemingly at random. Though, Mitch finds that if it is someone such as the Shape, that Laurie will always be involved. Similarly, if it is the Nightmare, Quentin will be involved. It...  

It almost makes him give up his theory. Figuring it was perhaps just his hope keeping that feeling alive. Wouldn’t it have made sense for the Entity to pair them up? Wouldn’t it be something to agonize over? Wasn’t that a goal of the Entity’s, to cause as much pain as possible?  

It’s something he mulls over while he plays with his wedding band one day, looking at the glittering gold with a soft sigh passing his lips. Of longing or frustration, not even he’s entirely sure.  

As far as he knew in the mortal realm, Herman had been taken from the institute by police where they discovered Mr. Stamper. Where his head was cracked open and electrodes and prods were inserted into a still, very much working brain. His research papers had been left, but he’d been...just gone.  

And then, just like this, Mitch was here. With a realm matching the description to a T. A realm he’d yet to be in, and a killer he’d yet to see.  

But then. One day. It happens.  

When Mitch awakens, he finds himself no longer in the warmed bed in the cabin of their camp. He finds himself blinking himself awake to the entrance of a building with two  wide , swung open doors. Overgrowth enters the building with tufts of grass, leading into blindingly white walls, white floors, hospital beds, flickering televisions hung on the walls...  

‘Lery’s  memorial’ reads the plaque outside said doors. Mitch finds that small bit of hope flickering into his system at the sight. Of course, he had learned from the other survivors, that these realms were also based on areas they’d had immense trauma in. Such as Laurie with her old neighborhood, or Quentin with the preschool grounds. So maybe...maybe this is just where the Entity took his own memories and made them into something painful to look at.  

Grounding himself, Mitch finds himself going around familiar corridors and finding the place to be near exactly as remembered. Just vacated of patients, experiments, and of course it being now run down. But he tries to ignore the nostalgia as he finds a generator and begins getting to work on it with a few small tugs of the wires.  

It’s when the sound of a fellow survivor getting shocked with a haunting, chilling yet familiar laugh does Mitch shoot up. Forgetting his position at the generator as it cracks with its own shock from being suddenly jolted. It would alert his position. And maybe that’s what he wants.  

The familiar sound of thrumming in his ears and the feeling of his hair standing on end makes Mitch move around the corner to GREET the killer, near frantic with the need to know. It was all on a hunch, a theory. But if he was right, if he could see Herman again, if he would even recognize his own husband after so long locked up here to play a game by a creature yet unseen-  

He near bumps right into the killer. Standing just about as tall as Mitch does. His unblinking gaze and a grin stretched across his face being of a familiar retainer to keep a patient’s facial parts open for no natural reflexes to get in the way. He recognizes it instantly; It had been one of Herman’s favorites to keep his patients from becoming too rowdy.  

This killer’s skin is paler than the rich, dark tone he’d been familiar with. Now almost ashy and dead. Electricity shoots up  bare  arms, the doctor’s coat’s arms ripped off- or singed off from the very electricity running through his veins. Blood splatters his coat, dried over his cheeks, eyes wide open and seemingly full of electricity themselves in how they glow. Mitch’s eyes fall to his left hand, almost frantic with the need to know.  

A gold band rests on the killer’s left ring finger and he feels his heart pick up in speed, but not from fear.  

His heart does something odd, lurching in his chest as his fingers shake. The Doctor seems at a pause too, fingers clutched tight around the electric spear in his hand. He cocks his head to look at Mitch better, eyes flickering over his frame looking like mini fireflies with how bright they are, and even with the headgear Mitch can see his eyebrows try to furrow.  

“Herman-” Mitch breathes out, outstretching a hand and reaching for his face. Immediately his wrist is snatched by the Doctor’s free hand, but not hard enough to hurt, just stopping him from touching. The electricity doesn’t even hurt, feeling like a pleasant tingle as static clings to his skin.  

The hand snatched is taken closer to the Doctor’s face for closer inspection. Hypnotically bright eyes land on the gold band and Mitch watches as his head cocks, glancing back to Mitch’s face, then back to the band.  

A small shock is sent through Mitch’s frame and a gasp is sent through him as he watches his vision turn almost blindingly blue briefly. Almost...almost hallucinations swarming his visions of memories. Of arms wrapped around him from behind in the lounge room, of Herman slicing up vegetables in the kitchen, mundane tasks all leading to the last one of Herman. Black and orange fog surrounding him in a room with a severed head.  

When Mitch blinks, he’s face to face with the Doctor who has now bowed his head and let his wrist go, near nose to nose with Mitch who finally lets one side of his lips curl up in a lopsided smile. “Herman.” He murmurs again,  surer  of himself as his hands come up to cup Herman’s cheeks. Feeling the heat of electricity radiating off his body, the dried blood under his fingertips, and how dry his skin was.  

A man of few words, Mitch doesn’t feel the need to ask if this is where Herman had gone, if this is where he’d been taken, he doesn’t feel the need to cry either. It was as if he knew one day they’d be together again. Even if Herman was wielding a scary looking weapon and was clearly no longer human.  

“My dear,” Echoes into Mitch’s mind suddenly like a click, a voice he’s familiar with, cooing the pet name so fondly as a hand comes to rest on Mitch’s waist. “You’ve still insisted on wearing the sweater vest?”  

It’s such a playful thing to say that it makes Mitch choke out a laugh, affectionately nudging his forehead on Herman’s chin in a gentle bonk. “And you tear off arms of lab coat like animal?” His reply is thick with his accent, his voice hoarse from lack of use since he’d come to this realm. The response he gets in turn from Herman is that haunting laugh, shrill and high like multiple voices.  

Herman tries to grab at his waist again to toy with the vest, but Mitch takes a step back, out of arms reach and watches as Herman watches him hungrily. A familiar and old look that meant he knew what Mitch was up to.  

Mitch, in life, had been a huge tease. Liking to rile Herman up, tease him until Herman would shove him up against a wall and snarl about having his way with him. Similarly, Mitch could be very forward, insisting on taking what he wanted. With much consent on both ends, of course.  

But a little roleplay after so much time apart certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone.  

“You want off?” Mitch hums, letting a grin blossom onto his face as playfulness sparkles in his eyes. “Take.”   

Herman’s eyes spark to life at that, the laugh that seemed to echo through both mind and reality itself leaving him as he takes his rod and smacks it twice against the palm of his other hand.   

“As you wish, little thing.”  

--  

The chase begins after Mitch darts around the corner and begins running in a seemingly aimless direction. He’s run killers before, sure, but those were guesses of where to go. In a place he was familiar, with his husband of all people on his tail, it felt like there was no escape. He can feel the heat creeping on his back each time, can hear the laughter that follows it. When a shock is surged through him, he doesn’t scream like the others might, instead he only stutters his steps to gasp as  red hot  pleasure shoots up his body.  

Well, that was an accidental side effect. Or perhaps an ability? He was unsure of what his ‘abilities’ were when he arrived, the other survivors said they found out in due time.  

What a treat to conflict with the person of his affections.  

Mitch finds himself running towards the other end of the institute, dodging around any running generators he hears despite knowing that the others will merely think he’s going to get caught. He taunts and teases the entire time, curling around walls and darting back around Herman just to hear him growl in frustration and chase him again.  

By the time Mitch turns another corner, he finds himself in an office. The window is busted out, tinted glass on the ground. The desk has papers strewn all across it, filing cabinets left open and a chair spun out of the way. A couch with a fake plant rests in one corner, worn down from use and made of leather.  

Nostalgia hits him quicker than he can think to turn around because it was a dead end. And it seems he’s been caught.  

A hand grabs his wrist, curling fingers into the bone there and slamming Mitch back against the wall. A strong body fits against his own like a missing puzzle piece, knocking his glasses askew as a gasp escapes his lips. A powerful thigh nudges his legs apart, forced between them as well as his caught wrist thrust above his head and effectively pinning him.  

“You have always liked riling me up.” The voice echoes through his head tauntingly, the grind of a thigh between Mitch’s legs making his breath hitch and eyes flutter. “Do you wish to do this while my goal is to ensure you do not leave?”  

Quite the point, Mitch thinks to himself, but he knew Herman would never hold that rod against him until he had his fill. A little blood never hurt anyone, and Mitch doesn’t mind the idea of failing his own little survival mission if it meant his husband would not get punished.   

Perhaps Mitch was a glutton for punishment as is. But if it was a punishment his husband could give him? Oh, he’d like nothing more.  

So, he hums his approval with a little nod of his head, a smile crossing his face before fading to parted lips and a gasp when the thigh grinds up once again. Rocking him and making his own hips squirm. His free hand comes up to make a half assed push against Herman just to rile him up further, succeeding when he drops his weapon to snatch Mitch’s other wrist and slamming him against the wall.  

Mitch’s lashes flutter, eyes falling to Herman’s mouth that’s split into a grin from the headgear. The need to kiss him is strong, the need to completely overtake his mouth and remember his taste- strong of coffee- lingering on the tip of his tongue. He has a feeling the headgear is screwed into place, so he offers a soft whine and a murmur of, “I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s the softest thing he’d say or do tonight. Herman matching with a soft, gentle press of their foreheads together. Something that perhaps would ruin the mood for any other couple who hadn’t had similar scenarios like this play out. It’s soft affection, probably the gentlest Herman has had in so long.  

The thought makes Mitch’s heart constrict. Surely Herman was in his sadistic element, that much he could understand. But where was his pause? His reprieve?  

Mitch’s breath fans across his face and at  first,  they just soak in the company together. Gentle, quiet, a pause in the storm they would soon create.  

But the click of a generator starting makes both of them revive.  

Mitch is first to move, pulling his head back and reeling it forward to knock Herman back in a short distanced headbutt. It only serves to make the Doctor grunt, leaning back and tightening his grip as he comes right back forward to get into Mitch’s personal space. Mitch’s victorious grin is soon wiped from his face as he’s thrown to the floor. Forced to his knees with a hand sliding into his hair and threatening with gentle static that he’d get his brain fried if he put up a fight.  

Not that he would, of course. They both know that. Because if anyone were looking, you couldn’t see. But Mitch sees the way Herman tilts his head, a quiet question that Mitch nods to. Yes, he wanted this,  yes,  he liked it.  

Mitch grins once more as he’s on his knees, scooting closer and nosing at the bulge below Herman’s belt buckle. The hand in his long hair, fisting his ponytail presses him forward so he can rub his cheek shamelessly against the tent with a longing sigh.  

“Sorry,” Mitch murmurs adoringly, reaching up to help undo the Herman’s belt with practiced ease. Sliding his fingers down to his button and fly, undoing it with a bit of clumsiness with the shakiness of his hands. He bites his lip to stop a grin from happening when Herman grunts in confusion. “For escaping you.”  

It’s a taunt. The way he says it as he flutters his lashes up at Herman to hint that he could have totally evaded him and won this round. He lets a grin creep onto his face as he hooks his underwear and pants down to mid-thigh, seeing how Herman is already half hard.  

He always had such a pretty cock. Seven, verging on eight inches with a curved lean upwards. The head is bulbous, foreskin covering the sensitive lower glans and making the head shiny and flushed dark pink from arousal. In life he would have been shaved, and it seems it stayed the same in the realm as well with the smooth flesh revealed.  

“I have almost had enough of your petulant teasing. Are you going to show you are sorry?” Herman’s voice rings in his head pleasantly, a low growl with his voice deepened in arousal. Fingers twist in Mitch’s ponytail, thrusting him forward until his mouth brushes against Herman’s cock.  

Immediately to work, he presses hot kisses on the underside. Letting his tongue loll out to lick a warm, flat stripe from the underside to the head where he presses sloppy kisses. He moans when he  licks  up the precum, making sure Herman’s watching as he peers up at him from on his knees as he takes his cock into his mouth. At first, he just suckles on the head, letting the familiar weight settle and hearing pleased grunts above him and soft growls. It almost sounds like an animal.  

It’s when Herman has had enough does Mitch start to scramble at his thighs. His ponytail is held taut as Herman fucks his mouth, making good usage of Mitch’s throat as he controls his gag reflex. His lashes flutter, eyes welling up with tears as his fingers clasp onto Herman’s pants at his thighs, eyes near rolling back into his skull as his throat is fucked.  

Each lengthened thrust, where Herman holds himself just a bit longer, makes him whimper. Feeling himself strain in his own pants as filthy words bleed into his head. “Look at you, little one. Keep up your practice? ” “Good boy, you look at home down there.” “I can see how much you like it.”  

At the last one, Herman adjusts to press the sole of his dress shoe on the front of Mitch’s pants just to hear him sob out through his nose and jerk his hips into his touch. So sensitive.  

Finally,  Herman pulls from his throat, yanking Mitch’s head back and letting him pant for air. He looks so pretty with his throat exposed, lips flushed and parted, lips shiny from saliva and some drool spilling down his chin. A filthy mess. A mess that Herman can’t help but grab the chin of, pressing his thumb to his lips just to watch Mitch greedily suckle at his thumbpad.  

“Insatiable as always, my love.”  

Another generator goes off and Herman is guiding Mitch to stand. Mitch tugs at Herman to come closer, bringing them to his desk so Mitch can lie on his stomach on top and let Herman tug at his pants. Lubricant possibly was something they would have needed in the institute for either any gear or keeping an area slick for suction cups, a bottle of which is found in Herman’s coat.  

Prep is easy enough with how needy Mitch is. His cock is pressed to the desk flat, kind of hanging between his legs and twitching helplessly against the wood as Herman’s fingers work him open. The entire time Mitch squirms and sighs, his cock jerking and spilling some precum in a heavy, sticky drop that leaves a brief string leading from his cock to the floor that snaps under gravity.  

By the time Mitch is stretched enough, and even  then  maybe not even enough, just when he starts to get antsy. Herman slicks himself up and pushes inside with a grunt from his chest, Mitch matching with a low moan into his arms that he has crossed under his head. A swear in his native tongue croons out when Herman’s hips are flush with his ass, another sigh leaving him when Herman’s grabbing his ass firmly and spreading him apart just to see where they’re connected.  

Herman is quick to start a decent pace, making Mitch make soft sounds, digging his nails into the desk as soft sighs leave him. A hand slides up his waist to press to the curve of it, as if  caressing  him. And it would be sweet, but it’s not what he wants.  

“You can do better than that, yes?” Mitch taunts, rolling his hips into the next thrust and hiding a grin in his arm when he hears a growl. A smack to his ass draws a soft moan from him, but he hides it with a laugh. “C’mon, be good boy, harder.”  

The ‘good boy’ makes Herman huff behind him, this little embarrassed sound Mitch was so in tune with. Herman sure knew how to talk pretty and gave off an aura of dominance, but they both knew who led the relationship.  

Immediately Herman obeys, picking up pace, fucking him harder as electricity curls up Mitch’s body where Herman’s hands touch. Mitch whines in return, his hips pressing back eagerly, practically humping the edge of the desk for some sort of stimulation to his neglected cock.  

Each slam into his ass makes Mitch’s soft taunting turn into moans. Another generator clicks on and Herman gets practically frantic to fuck into him. Animalistic with his grunts and growls, occasionally laughter seeming to escape him as if he can’t help it. When Mitch opens his mouth to coo at him, he yelps when his ponytail is caught again.  

Herman yanks him to stand practically upright. Forcing Mitch’s back to his chest as he fucks into him. Herman’s hand leaves his hair to wrap loosely around his neck, static threatening his fingertips as his other hand shoves down to jerk Mitch off. In Mitch’s head is an echo of things, all seeming to intertwine with each other like too many voices trying to talk to him at once. Conflicting possessive with praise.   

“You’re mine.” “I adore you.” “You’re mine to ruin, little thing.” “I’ve missed you.” “You’re going to cum on my cock like the pathetic thing you are.” “Let me see you lose it, my dear.”  

The stimulation and  echoes  are too much. Mitch feels the final push he needs and he’s cumming with a cry, one of his hands grabbing Herman’s wrist that rests near his throat. His other hand coming back to grip Herman’s hip and forcing him to stay close as Herman cums inside of him with a snarl. Cumming with Herman’s hand jerking off the base of Mitch’s shaft, Mitch’s dick jerks almost freely, cumming onto the desk, partially onto his own shirt and the papers left askew on the floor.  

Mitch pants heavily against Herman’s body, feeling the strain on his neck relaxing and the almost violent whispering shushing in his mind.  

There’s a careful sort of way Herman pulls out. But then something is being shoved into Mitch again and at  first  he whines in a muffled protest before relaxing when coos in his mind tell him to.   

A plug is pressed into him to keep the cum inside. Herman helps him with his pants, patting his ass fondly as if mocking him in turn before another click of a generator happens. The gong of the bell alerting that gates could be opened perks Mitch’s ears, but not as much as the laughter behind him and the creeping feeling of  electricity .  

“Run, little rabbit. Before I decide to see what your insides look like.”  

No, the Entity’s realm was not made for lovers.  

But, perhaps maybe lovers with a twisted sense of humor.  

[irenadel]

identity asks: 1 5 10 15 26 29

1. If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

There’s a fairly unknown fantasy series called “The Time Master Trilogy” (with an extremely problematic and rapey sex scene :s) and I’ve always felt horribly identified with character of Cyllan. Alternately, an easier find would be Alice Munro’s short story “Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage.” Both embody the same way I view myself and how I inhabit my body as a thing that should be ornamental and yet is not and how desperately and humiliatingly I wish it COULD be.

My terrible views on what I consider romantic (and everything I wish I could write when I’m writing a romance story) can best be viewed in the movie “The Princess and the Warrior” by Tom Tykwer. True love is when he gives you a tracheotomy. ❤️ My views on what friendship and school stories (two things I can’t stop wanting to write about) should be like are displayed in the movie “The Hairy Bird” by Sarah Kernochan.

The Cure was the first band I ever liked that wasn’t a happy, poppy, eighties band. It was and remains my one and only favorite band which I may forget from time to time but against which no others will ever compare. When I was a wee, angsty tween I decided Closedown from the album Disintegration was MY song and I’ve never had reason to regret my choice. To this day I wish I was as expansive, light, heartbreaking and generous as the beats of that song are. I still hear deep within myself “if only I could fill my heart with love.”

5. Do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? Do you identify yourself by the things you do?

I… actually really like this question. It pokes at a very raw part of myself. Because to a large extent I DO define myself by what I’ve managed to accomplish and in many ways that is still precious little, just the bare minimum of what I WISH I could do. And for a long time I was disgustingly and smugly proud of having set this standard for myself and others, that only what you DO matters and very little of what you SAY does.

It came about partially for good reasons, because for a long time I felt I had surrounded myself with people who were too proud of BEING smart and creative without actually DOING anything smart and creative, but also people who spoke of love very easily while not acting very loving.

I’m struggling with letting this standard go, because I feel it has made me a smaller and pettier person, with myself and with others. There’s a growing sense in the greater cultural consciousness that we have been lied to, when told that we can’t just be, and that we should always be struggling and hustling. I thought I had made a personal choice but I’m not so sure anymore…

10. Do you have a creed?

No… not really… I wasn’t raised religious and the last couple of years have been such a nonstop barrage of re-examining and reconstructing my idea of myself that I don’t think I know much about myself anymore. I’m mostly progressive, but also mostly non confrontational. I used to be a pacifist but I’m not sure anymore…

More than a creed I feel like I have a mantra: a little is better than nothing. A little activism is better than no activism. A little work on my dreams is better than no work at all. A little self-care is better than abandoning myself. A little empathy goes a long way…

15. Five most influential books over your lifetime.

I think those are the five books that taught me something I didn’t know before. So…

The Lord of the Rings trilogy, because that was my very first book. My dad used to tell it to me as a bed time story. A book of Tolkien illustrations was the first book I ever picked out by myself in a bookstore, long before I could read it on my own.

Lolita, because I didn’t know you could write like that without being a native English speaker, not just well but exquisitely. I can still quote my favorite lines by heart.

A Room of One’s Own, because I didn’t know you could write fiction to argue a point so eloquently. I never knew you could carry an argument so convolutedly and yet so masterfully across so many different fictional scenarios. I remember being obsessed with the word “incandescent” for a long time after reading it.

The Wintersmith and the Sandman series, because I didn’t know I wanted to write stories about stories before reading them.

26. How would you describe your gender / sexuality?

I am painfully average 🤦🏻‍♀️ painfully cisgender and straight…

….

When I was very young I felt sort of identified with the term pansexual. But I feel like the most honest truth is that the people I’m more likely to be attracted to are masculine presenting I guess? 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’ve only dated cisgender dudes but I don’t think that’s ALL I’m attracted to… I do still feel like my attraction is mostly targeted at personalities rather than physical appearance, at least in the real world. I like the occasional beefcake but if their brain is not sexy I don’t think I would be able to muster attraction.

In conclusion I’m way more confused about my orientation than my gender! Yay!

29. Three songs that you connect with right now.

I can’t stop listening to the reprise of Wait for Me from the musical Hadestown and feeling the deep, good chills every time I do.

I also keep drawing awesome fantasy art in my head to the tune of Constellations by the Oh Hellos.

And I got Lady Gaga’s Alejandro stuck in my brain again for some reason or another. And that one makes me weirdly emotional o_O

[artificialqueens]

What's Her Name? (Gigi x Nicky) - Mina

A/N: I’m working really hard on a fairy au right now (go to @goodemornting for updates on that lmao) but in the meantime I wanted to do something different! I hope you all enjoy it :)

Your soulmates name shows up on your arm when you turn 15. Gigi’s only problem is that her’s is in French, and she doesn’t speak a word of it.

Soulmates are a pretty common thing. Realistically they shouldn’t be; even with someone’s name written on your arm, what are the odds you’re going to find them in a sea of seven and a half billion people? Not only is it unlikely, it’s improbable. What if you have a name on your arm like John Smith? How many John Smiths do you have to go through before you can find the “one and only”? Soulmates were romanticized, and frankly unnecessary in Gigi’s humble opinion. She wouldn’t have had the slightest interest in finally finding her own but it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t at least have some idea of who their soulmate is. There are a lot of tells, like what language the name is written in, what gender the name is usually assigned to, stuff like that. Probably the biggest reason why so many people in the world have managed to find their soulmates is because they care so much about it. Apparently there’s also like, a gut feeling you get, when you meet them. Like you know for a fact that they’re the one and only. She’d never experienced it herself, but according to the people in her life who had met their soulmates before, there’s just some kind of pull, like on an instinctual level. This subconscious feeling you have that they’re the right person for you. And when the names match up - well, there’s really no way to deny it, at that point.

It’s kind of a sweet notion, in a way. To know someone all your life by a set of letters and then when you finally get to meet them, that they’re the right person, and they’ve been thinking of you too. Gigi was independent sure, career driven and logical, but she would’ve been lying if she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what her soulmate might look like, what perfume they might use, what their favorite band might be. It was drilled into her since she was younger, in her defense, but that yearning feeling that encased every bone in her body whenever she accidentally glanced down at the cursive words delicately engraved on her arm made her wish that she could just find them already, so she could focus on more important things than the love of her life.

The only problem was, that the name imprinted neatly on her arm just happened to not be written in English, but some terrible variation of French.

Truth be told, she’d started studying French ever since google translate had helpfully informed her that’s what language the name was written in. She knows it starts with N, probably ends in L or Y, but her soulmates parents must’ve decided to give their child the most unique spelt name on the planet because the letters every French person had told her that the name possessed didn’t form anything that has much of a ring to it. She really hoped it was a girl’s name, because, well, it would be pretty inconvenient for her if her soulmate was a guy (Considering that she’s, like, a lesbian, and all). But other than that there were absolutely no indicators as to what it could say.

It used to bother her a lot more when she was younger. Being seventeen and knowing absolutely no characteristics of your soulmate is both pretty rare and pretty sad, but it’d never been her primary concern. She had other things to fill her life with, like good friends and family, school, art, overpriced coffee. It was frustrating that she couldn’t read it, but also extremely easy to distract herself from. Besides, having no way of knowing what the her soulmates name was gave her plenty of time and energy to spend helping her friends with their soulmate problems, and there’s plenty of those to go around.

Gigi stirred her tea, poking her tongue out slightly from between her lips. She hated that all the tapioca pearls end up sinking to the bottom, she didn’t want to put the straw in only halfway and get a mouthful of tea, but at the same time she didn’t want to drink all the boba all at once because it’s all pooled at the bottom. There were probably more important things that she could be focusing on right now, but this was a major pet peeve of hers. She cares a whole lot about how her bubble tea is consumed! The tapioca should be dispersed evenly throughout the drink, anything else is a disgrace.

Jan looked between her own two multicolored drinks, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. She was probably trying to decide which one to drink first, but it’s still pretty funny to watch. After Gigi had given up on fiddling around with the tapioca pearls, she sipped her tea and laced her fingers together, leaning forward to look at the blonde closer.

“You could try drinking the one they gave you for free.” She remarked, Jan’s golden brown eyes sliding up to meet hers with a sheepish smile. They’d been best friends since grade school but she still got way too easily embarrassed when Gigi gave her advice, it was pretty stupid. “Since you like the other one more, right?”

“I mean,” Jan pouted again, cocking her head like an upset puppy. “I like taro and lychee evenly, I just wanted lychee this time.”

“Hmm.” Gigi hummed, chewing her lip. “I’m trying to decide if you’re an immediate satisfaction kinda girl or the kind to bide your time. Or you could alternate between the two. Get a good mix of the one you’re in the mood for and the one you’re not in the mood for to keep you going.”

“That’s pretty gross, Gigi.” The older pointed out, wearing a wry smile. “It’s weird that I even have two to begin with.”

“Business as usual for you,” she chided, taking another sip of her single strawberry flavoured tea. Jan was lucky, generally. Gigi didn’t mean that in a jealous way, it was just true, and a little unnerving, at times. The fact that whoever ordered the taro bubble tea had completely took off, prompting the worker to offer it to the blonde, wasn’t even surprising to her at this point. Jan was even lucky in the soulmate department, kinda. The name on her arm was Jacquline Cox, pretty basic, and apparently they’d already met - though Jan hadn’t given her a lot of information about the mystery woman other than something about long dark hair and Persian food.

“It makes me feel awkward,” Jan complained with a sigh. “Who comes to a cafe and orders two boba teas?

“People who are really thirsty, probably.”

“I guess you’re right,” She conceded, but she still looked apprehensive, so Gigi reached across the table and grabbed the taro drink to take a long sip of it. She wasn’t the biggest fan of taro (It’s hard to describe, it’s too earthy for her taste?) but the eyebrow raise from the older woman was funny, so it was worth the slightly unpleasant flavour. “Gigi?”

The brunette glanced up from the tea, watching as Jan’s lip curled up harshly, thinking about her next choice of words. “You said wanted to catch up today?” She asked after a moment, and Gigi buffered briefly before nodding.

“Yeah. It’s so weird not going to the same school.” Gigi smiled sadly, drawing a smiley face in the condensation of her cup, “I’m not used to not seeing you every day, but you said the new school is better, right?”

“It’s not much different than the one we went to last year,” Jan shrugged, “But it’s a good school. It’s nice going somewhere where people don’t all remember me from primary.” She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s how I met Jackie, so I can’t be too mad about it.”

Gigi can’t help being a little bit more attentive after she hears the name, but she’s not very expressive at the best of times, so there probably wasn’t much more than a slight shift in her expression. The shorter woman was pretty good at picking up on that stuff, though, so she wasn’t surprised at the knowing smirk smiling back it her. “You know, you could just ask if you want me to tell you about her.”

Gigi winked, leaning forward on the table and resting her head against her hands. “Tell me then, what’s Miss Jacqueline like?”

“She’s from Iran, transfer student, stupidly funny, super smart, tall,” Jan sounded wistful, smiling serenely. The expression was generally deceiving, but thankfully Gigi had a pretty good idea of how to read her, too. It comes with being best friends for so long. She chewed her boba, waving a hand to encourage the blonde to continue. “I’ve been so happy lately, she really completes me. I don’t think she likes me much yet though.”

Gigi swallowed, narrowing her eyes. “Hmmm, maybe she’s just nervous. Does she have eyes? You’re pretty attractive.” She hesitated, “Probably.”

“Thank you,” Jan giggled, “But that’s not really what I meant.” She sighed, swirling her tea with her straw. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time.” She hinted, rather than say that she’d been waiting on this tea since Jan had first mentioned meeting her soulmate, and that she’d been starved of this kind of thing in her own life so she was more than happy to be hearing about it in her friends.

Gigi had never been good at any of that… romantic stuff, which people often found surprising given how confident she was normally. She didn’t read often, but on the rare occasion that she did, and she got to the romantic part of a book, she felt terribly flustered the whole time through. She had no composure. She’d just have no idea what to say, or what might be tactful to do in any situation. Sure, holding hands and cuddling sounded nice, but beyond that- things like communication, and physical gestures of affection, were intimidating. Not scary, necessarily, or unappealing (because wow Gigi loved to be kissed by g… girls…) but definitely intimidating. A large part of her was worried that when she eventually met her soulmate, she’d embarrass herself with a total lack of expertise in that area. Then again, the whole point of a soulmate is that they’re your one and only, so maybe they’d both be completely unequipped to handle what being a soulmate might entail. In general Gigi was most worried about identifying them, though. Who’s to say that they’d know English? Maybe they don’t know what the name - which was hopefully written nicely since her handwriting could be terrible at times - on their arm says either.

Jan groaned. “She’s so nice to me but she’ll never initiate it? Like if I compliment her she goes along with it otherwise it feels forced?”

Gigi scoffs, picking at her nails, the answer is fairly obvious. “It sounds like she’s doing that thing that people do in the movies.” She dipped her thumb in the puddle of water that’d formed on the table from the drips of condensation dripping off her drink. “What’s it called, playing hard to get?”

“Y’know, that does sound kinda accurate,” Jan smiled, which told Gigi that shes completely right. She’s glad for that, too, because she really just repeated platitudes. “Why don’t we talk about something else? You haven’t told me how you’ve been, recently.”

By the time they’d both finished their bubble teas (as well as the taro one in the middle of the table), they figured it’d be a good time to head home. Gigi begged the shorter woman to keep her posted on the Jackie situation, and Jan swore that she would with a roll of her eyes.

The brunette’s text came in while she was at the mall. When her phone vibrated, she stopped for a second to check the notification. It was Jan, of course, the paragraph of emojis next to her name lighting up Gigi’s lock screen.

The blonde has texted her a picture; she doesn’t recognize the subject of the photo, but she can only assume that it’s the Jackie Cox soulmate woman, or else there’d be no reason for the candid shot. She’s facing away from the camera, looking off into a cityscape, but her head is turned very slightly, and there’s a fond smile practically glowing off of her face. From what Gigi can see, her eyes are a deep wood brown, she’s freakishly tall and probably towers over Jan, and her hair is dark and curled slightly at the tips. She nods sagely, this woman and Jan would look like a cliche Pinterest board aesthetic together. The Persian woman is beaming, which probably means that the two getting along just fine- which is contrary to what Jan had told her so mayb-

Someone (or something? But she’s pretty sure it’s a someone because whatever it is is warm) collides into Gigi’s shoulder, and knocks not only her phone out of her hands, but also her feet out from under her. With an undignified sound, she watches the ground get closer to her, and then blinks in confusion when it suddenly stops roughly a foot away from her face.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” it’s a woman’s voice, Gigi thinks, and vaguely accented, but her English sounds pretty okay. When she turns her head she is accutly aware of of pale blonde hair brushing against the woman’s shoulders, the sweet scent of honeysuckle perfume, a Lana Del Rey shirt tightly hugging her chest. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, are you alright? Mon dieu, your phone..”

Huh? Gigi followed her line of sight and noticed that her phone was on the floor some ways away. As soon as her eyes landed on it, the blonde woman kneels and lifts it up delicately, wiping it off with the silky red scarf she’s wearing. It’s at that moment that it occurs to her that she’s still being held up by the other girl, and when she’s pulled to her feet, she takes a step back and chews her thumbnail, blinking at the vision before her.

This girl is fairly tall, definitely has an inch or two on Gigi. Her hair is shiny, concealed by a stylish black beret, and her eyes are sharp and seemingly all knowing. She’s remarkably pretty, Gigi’s heart beginning to get that fluttery feeling she gets whenever she makes eye contact with an unfortunately attractive girl her age. She tries to calm it down, though, because she can’t imagine that going all ditzy-highschooler on this girl will help the interaction any. It’s awkward enough as it is.

“I’m fine,” She says quietly, before the blonde girl can begin to fret about her phone. “I shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the walkway on my phone, so it’s my fault, probably.” Gigi wipes down the wrinkles in her shirt, watching relief cross over the girl’s features. She’s looks French, the brunette concedes. Like she stylishly sell you a baguette on the side of the street, and her accent further hints at it. She’s probably around Gigi’s age as well.

“I’m happy that you aren’t mad.” The girl smiles. “But it’s still my fault.” She clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck. “Could I make it up to you?” The way she asks it is curious, like she has some sort of other reason for asking, but Gigi holds her tongue. “I was going to this restaurant- pardon me, my name is Nicolette — are you free right now? – Not that you have to be, we could do it later – they make a really good stir-fry.”

For a pretty girl, Nicky stutters more than Gigi would’ve expected. It’s cute, charming almost, and the offer sounds great right about now. “That sounds fine.” She smiles, suddenly forgetting whatever she had come to the mall for because stir fry and French woman definitely sounded like her cup of tea.

“Perfect! I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” Nicolette - that’s a long name, maybe she could shorten it to Nicky - remarks thoughtfully, and Gigi realises that she’s a fool.

“Gigi.” She replies, and then adds, “Goode. My name is Gigi Goode.” Inwardly she scolds herself, that introduction could’ve been much smoother. For a minute she thinks she was so weird about it that Nicky has been thoroughly unsettled, but it crosses her mind after a bit of thought that the French woman’s comically widening eyes probably isn’t on account of her stuttering.

“Gigi Goode?” Echoes the girl. “Wait, uhm,” she shakes her head quickly, eyes frantically flicking between her arm and Gigi’s own, which is concealed by her coat sleeve. “Do you-” Nicky fumbled with her shirt, yanking it up with one hand. When Gigi looks down at the girl’s arm, she sees some incredibly familiar letters written, tiny hearts dotting every i. “Do you spell your name with-”

“Yeah. Yeah - yeah I do.“ The brunette interrupts, vision suddenly becoming blurry. She pulls up her own sleeve, feeling like she’s in some kind of a stupor, and holds out her forearm shakily to the taller woman. “Is this your name? I’ve never been able to read it.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“That is certainly my name,” Nicky replies, voice high pitched and frantic. “It’s spelt weird, you know, with the q and u and stuff but - merde that’s my name.”

Honestly, Gigi isn’t really capable of thinking clearly right now, but by the sounds of it she might’ve just found her soulma-

She gets knocked off her feet for second time within five minutes. This time, though, Nicky isn’t able to catch her, because though Nicky is again the reason she goes down, the blonde’s arms are occupied by being thrown tightly around Gigi’s shoulders.

“I’m so glad to meet you!” The woman bursts out, and the brunette’s face warms at the close proximity. “I came to America to look for you, did you know that? I suppose you wouldn’t, as we’ve never met before, but I- well- I’ve been searching for so long and some days I felt like I would never find you- that is a bit too much information for a first meeting, sorry, - and I’ve knocked you over again too, oh-”

“It’s okay,” Gigi dismisses quickly. “I don’t mind.” She doesn’t, though her face is definitely like a thousand degrees right now. Nicky beams at her, strands of angel blonde hair falling in front of her eyes, and Gigi swallows down a bit of flustered anxiety. Her heart is beating hard, she can hardly hear anything through it’s ringing in her ears, and Nicky can definitely feel it, but it’s not so embarrassing when she realises that the other girl’s heart is beating just as fast. At the same tempo, even, though it might be a bit presumptuous to say as much. She clears her throat a few times, trying to figure out something cool to say. “Uhm, well, how about that stir-fry then?”

Not quite, but close enough, because Nicky’s responding smile feels like a billion dollars.