#It feels so surreal but so fantastic! Tumblr posts

[horreurscopes]

i."Revelation - It's Grand Climax at hand!" Watchtower Bible & Tract Society, 1988.

ii. "Pure Worship of Jehovah​—Restored At Last!" Watchtower Bible & Tract Society, 2018.

iii. Watchtower magazine, April 1989, May 1989.

Illustrators uncredited in publications and therefore unknown. 

[sophaeros]

this song gets played so much and yet we never really talk about the fucking imagery of these lines. i am not immune to late afternoon and ghost imagery

[obiwan-kenobabe]

I'm home from Metallica and I am SOBBING my eyes out. Dream concert, a show I waited my whole life to see... Wowza

[demonwebs]

Yooo ignore this if you already said so, but how does the Emperor look to Vhaal? Whose form does he take?

yes, she looks like a gentler version of his matron, no he will not be taking any questions at this time or ever

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[cherryredlove]

☆ eiffel tower ☆

Modern! au Cregan Stark x reader x Jacaerys Velaryon SMUT

Includes Cregan x Jacaerys smut

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Baela and Rhaena always host the hottest parties of the summer. Invitied alongside your best friend Helaena, you meet two handsome men who seem equally interested in you as you are in them.

Word Count: 2.5k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, threesome, p in v, oral, eiffel towering, cum eating, alcohol consumption, cigarettes

also just imagine cregan in the pics has dark hair ahah

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The hot July night is thick with the mingled sounds of the party—a seamless mix of bass-heavy music, laughter, and shouts cutting the air. You feel the vibrations through the floor as you push your way through the crowded living room of Rhaena and Baela’s apartment. They live in a swanky flat in the city centre of King's Landing. It's their birthday, and, as usual, they’ve gone all out. Neon lights bounce off the walls, casting a colourful glow that makes everything feel both surreal and electrifying.

You'd worn your favourite sexy black top and bootcut jeans, making your ass look fantastic, as your flatmate Dyana had so kindly informed you. Bangles jingling, you make your way toward the makeshift bar in the corner, your eyes scanning the throngs of people dancing and talking, searching for a familiar face. Finally, you spot her—Helaena, your best friend, is lounging on a couch, deep in conversation with a couple of guys from her art class, while sipping a bottle of Asshai beer. She waves at you enthusiastically, a smile stretching across her face.

“Hey, you made it!” Helaena shouts over the music, wrapping you in a quick hug. She smells like lavender and vodka, wearing a blue skater dress, a familiar and comforting combination. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. You lean in closer. “This place is insane.”

Helaena laughs, nodding in agreement. “You should go say hi to Rhaena and Baela later. They’re out on the balcony, holding court as usual.”

As you nod, you can’t help but feel a little out of place, surrounded by people who seem to know exactly where they fit in this chaotic scene. You were a bit of a party animal too with Helaena, but the party here was madness. You grab a drink from the bar—something pink and fruity that burns just enough to remind you of its potency—and take a long sip, letting the alcohol warm you from the inside.

You seek out Baela and Rhaena. Both of them look divine in gold shimmery tops. They scream a little with excitement when you see them and hand some sourz shots for the three of you to do together.

After, you’ve been chatting with Helaena for a while, legs crossing over eachothers as you lounge on some chairs, when your attention is caught by two guys approaching. Even in the dim light, they stand out: one tall and dark-haired with broad shoulders, the other with brown curls, high cheekbones, and a rougish smile. They're both stunning in that unfairly effortlessly cool way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Hel,” the first one says with an easy smile. His eyes flick to you, holding your gaze a moment longer than polite. “Who’s your friend?”

Helaena grins, ever the mischievous meddler. “This is Y/N,” she says, gesturing toward you. “Y/N, meet Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon. They’re Baela’s best mates from uni. You guys both study politics and history with her, right?"

Cregan gives you a nod, his smile widening into something warmer, while Jacaerys offers you his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

The conversation flows easily, the four of you finding common ground in shared interests and mutual acquaintances. Cregan regales you all about his recent backpacking trip through the Highlands, the beautiful scenery and his close scrapes with the law, while Jacaerys leans closer, drawing you into a discussion about your favorite bars and places in King's Landing. You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the tension you carried into the party slowly melting away.

As the night deepens and Helaena ends up sneaking off with a mysterious girl named Sara who Cregan knows, the three of you drift outside to the balcony, the cool air a welcome relief from the heat inside. You lean against the railing, the city sprawled out before you while Cregan sparks up a cigarette for you. Below, the streetlights flicker like stars, the hum of traffic a distant lullaby.

“So, what do you think of the party?” Cregan asks, his voice low and inviting.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, taking a sip of your drink that Jace had grabbed for you, a Starfall Screwdriver. “You two must be close with Rhaena and Baela.”

“Yeah, we’ve known them forever,” Jacaerys replies, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. His gaze is steady, intent. “They throw the best parties.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of their attention settle over you like a physical presence. There’s something about the way they look at you—like they’re seeing you, really seeing you—and it makes your heart race in a way you can’t quite explain. You aren't blind to their eyes and where they're looking.

“So, Y/N,” Cregan begins, a playful glint in his eye. His arm rests on your shoulder after taking a drag. “What’s your deal? You seeing anyone?”

The question catches you off guard, your mind scrambling for a response. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. The truth is, your love life has been a series of near misses and almosts, leaving you jaded at a young age.

“Not really,” you finally reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I’ve been kind of focused on other things lately.”

Jacaerys leans closer, his expression thoughtful. “Like what?” His hand brushes your thigh, and you clench slightly. Cregan smirks, and Jace takes a long drink of his beer.

“Like work, mostly,” you say with a shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny. “And, you know, just figuring things out.”

Cregan exchanges a glance with Jacaerys, something unspoken passing between them. You feel a twinge of curiosity, wondering what they’re thinking.

“What about you two?” you ask, shifting the focus away from yourself. “Any girlfriends I should be worried about?”

Jacaerys chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, we’re both single. We're too busy having fun, I guess.”

“Though we do have something in mind tonight,” Cregan adds, his tone teasing, almost conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?” Jace looks amused at your obliviousness.

Cregan and Jacaerys exchange another look, this one filled with a kind of mischievous energy that makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You have the distinct feeling that whatever they’re about to say will lead to a very interesting night.

“Well,” Jacaerys says slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, “we were actually wondering if you’d be interested in something…a little different tonight.”

Your heart skips a beat, the possibilities flashing through your mind. You find yourself leaning in, caught in their magnetic pull.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s smile is all charm and challenge. “A threesome,” he says simply. “You, me, and Jace.”

You blink, your mind momentarily short-circuiting at the proposition. Of all the things you’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. And yet, the idea sends a thrill coursing through you, igniting something bold and adventurous that you didn’t quite realize was there.

“I—” You start, then pause, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Jacaerys steps closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm, inviting shadow. “No pressure,” he says, his voice gentle but edged with excitement. “But we think you’re amazing. And we’d love to spend the night making you feel that way.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, the heat between you three palpable and undeniable. You consider their offer. They're both hot, both your type, and they both fancy you. The decision weighs on your mind, and yet, somewhere beneath the surface, you know exactly what you want.

Taking a deep breath, you meet their expectant gazes, a slow smile spreading across your lips. You down your drink. “Alright,” you say, your heart racing with anticipation. “Let’s do it.” They both smile, and their grip on you becomes a tad tighter.

“Great,” Cregan says. “How about we head back to ours? We live in a flat just a couple of minutes away.”

You nod, feeling a heady mix of nerves and thrill. As you follow them through the party, weaving through the throngs of people and neon-lit haze, you feel your heart and pussy begin to thrum.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The ride to their apartment is a blur of laughter and anticipation, the city lights streaking past like shooting stars. You sit between them in the backseat of the cab, your legs brushing against theirs, the proximity sending shivers up your spine. Cregan brushes your neck lightly with his knuckles, and you tense when Jace's hands move upwards from your knee to your inner thigh. Feeling both of their mouths so close to you, their hot breath and their longing, heated gazes makes your pussy clench, excited.

When you finally arrive, the apartment is everything you imagined—a stylish blend of modern and cosy, the kind of place that feels lived in and loved. As soon as the door closes behind you, Jacaerys presses you against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s all fire and passion. You melt into him, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and keeping you upright.

Cregan’s hands find your waist, pulling you from the wall and sandwiching himself behind you, his touch firm and grounding as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness press into your ass from behind. You kick off your shoes and let Cregan pull your jeans down.

You nod, your breath hitching as Jacaerys trails kisses down your neck, his hands deftly unzipping his jeans. “More than alright,” you manage to say, the words a breathless promise. Jace rubs your thighs with his heavy hands and Cregan gropes your tits, pulling his shirt over his head.

You each undress, hands reaching out when not removing clothes to grasp at each other and kiss hotly, all tongues. You're not sure who you're kissing or who's kneading your ass when they guide you toward the bedroom.

Pushing you gently onto the bed, Jace turns to Cregan and kisses him, Cregan moaning lightly at the touch. Your pussy explodes ablaze at the sight, whimpering as the pair advance on you like wolves.

Cregan yanks your legs towards him, opening them and sighing at the sight.

"Oh, Jace, look at her," he smirks. "Already soaking wet and we haven't even started."

Jacaerys laughs lightly, kneeling besides your body as Cregan swipes a finger through your pussy slick. That draws a hot moan from your parted lips.

"Will you be good and let Cregan look after you?" Jacaerys asks, your eyes glued to his hardened cock that brushes against your tits as he leans down. You nod, moaning as he kisses you, and places your hand on his cock to stroke it.

Cregan takes his cue and sinks his mouth down onto your heat. You whimper loudly as he softly licks up your slick and begins sucking lightly on your aching clit. Encouraged by your reaction, he eats your pussy more fervently, devouring any juices and engufling your labia in his hot mouth.

Jace moans as you stroke his cock, Cregan watching the sight from between your legs. You reach down with your other hand to grasp Cregan's dark hair, pulling slightly. His eyes roll back and you notice his hand is between his legs, jerking his huge cock at the sight of you and Jace.

It's too much for you. You feel like you'll explode. Jacaerys grabs your tits and tweaks your tender nipples, and you moan, arching your back and feeling the start of an orgasm creep up on you.

"Come on Princess," Jace gasps. "Cum for us." He spills a thick white rope of cum over your tits. Cregan, eyes wide, eats your pussy with such vigour that he yanks an orgasm from you, and you howl as you cum. He jerks himself as he cums on your thighs.

Panting, you watch as Cregan approaches Jace. You would have expected yourself to be satisfied by now, but watching Jace lick the cum off himself and Cregan inflames your pussy once more. You wobble upwards, kneeling on the floor and engulfing Jace's cock with your mouth as you jerk Cregan's cock. The pair moan into eachothers mouths at the touch.

Leaning down, Cregan pulls you gently by the hair onto all fours. Your eyes widen as you realise what he means. Your mouth opens involuntarily as he makes you suck his fingers, chuckling to himself.

"You reckon she's ready?" Jace asks him. Cregan nods, eyes dark and glinting.

"Oh yes, her pussy's a mess. Look at how good she is, sucking my fingers," he removes them, smirking as you whine. "Don't worry girl, you'll be able to suck all you want."

He nudges his cock by your lips, and you swallow it whole. He begins thrusting lightly, moaning heavily at how good your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

You startle when you feel Jacaerys' hard cock press against your pussy lips, gently easing inside as your eyes roll back. You feel so full as he settles deep inside you.

Jace begins thrusting against you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that very few can reach whilst Cregan uses your hair to push you deeper onto his cock. Breathing through your nose, you sink down until his cock is deep in your throat, making a strangled moan come from his lips. You can feel the hot licks of pleasure build again inside as Jace rubs your clit as he pummels your pussy and gives you a healthy slap on your ass, watching it shake. His hands grab your hips and squeeze, leaving bruises that will spark some intense memories later.

Cregan huffs and you can tell he's close to finishing, so you swallow hard as his cock hits your throat again. He cries out and you feel ropes of salty cum filling up your mouth and throat.

You climax at the feeling, Jace's fingers carrying you over the edge as he pulls out and cums across your back. Your pussy flutters as you cum hard, collapsing on the floor as the two men pant and join you.

All three of you lie there, softly breathing and exchanging sweet kisses and looks. Cregan stands first, hauling you up to the bathroom to wipe you down whilst Jace grabs you some water each.

Sandwiched between them in bed again, you feel yourself drift off to sleep as Cregan and Jace hold you tight. You can only hope the next time with the pair will be even better.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: hope yall enjoyed that. i definitely prefer writing modern aus for some reason. any requests send them in, lmk if you want more like this!

[humlors]

Wait which billford fics pspspspsps

gotta say, it feels just a little surreal and silly to make a billford fic rec list in the year of our lord 2024, but hell yeah sure

There's an Endless Road by @agentquinn is one of those fics I reread like. at least once a year at this point. Post-canon, human!bill (absolute trash gremlin, as he should be), roadtrip with Bill, Stan and Ford. Cannot understate how much of a comfort fic this is to me. Do yourself a favor and read it

Also by Quinn, State of Dreaming is very much as the description of "One of Us AU, sort of". I remember for real gasping when figuring out what was going on. It's dark, it's just the right flavor of a bit surreal, it's fantastic

In All My Dreams I Drown (also by Quinn, I swear I've read fics from different authors) is a Pirates of the Caribbean AU with Bill as Calypso, Ford as Davy Jones that kickstarted me and @swiftboone talking non stop about this AU for months on end back in the day. Here's a masterpost of the AU of all of the wonderful peeps contributing to it!

While not really a billford fic, if you're on the Bill canon backstory high rn, please please PLEASE read Flat Dreams by @pengychan. It's an absolute masterpiece that very much made me weep reading back in the day. 100% one of those fics I want everyone who's into GF to have read at least once.

If you're not intimidated by long (LONG) fics, I slavishly followed Knowing Me, Knowing You by @f-imaginings back when. On surface, a typical 'bill gets trapped in a human body pre-betrayal' fic, but holy damn does it go places. equal parts rom com with an ABBA theme, equally character study/exploration with some great sci fi stuff

for something shorter, this fic by @marypsue is 100% one of my fave AU concepts of 'bill losing his own powers to make Ford a demon instead, making himself human in the process'. It's so good, bill being his usual trash baby self while coming to terms with the whole "being powerless" thing.

Anyway, these are the one's I can come up with from the top of my head! I've still got a whole heap of GF/billford fic recs under my fic rec tag, so that's another place to go searching! (and what the hell, shameless self promo of my own old fics lmao)

happy hunting for those fics my friend!!

[alyrasturnz]

matt is so guilty as sin coded... so can u make a guilty as sin smut fic

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎GUILTY AS SIN

❐ summary » when your best friend elucidates that the weight of guilt for the licentious musings you've harbored about him is an unnecessary burden, his compassionate understanding and acceptance illuminating the dark recesses of your conscience and freeing you from the shackles of self-reproach.

❐ pairings » bsf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » creampie, no protection (wrap it up), you will get second hand embarrassment cause he catches her masturbating to him, masturbation, p in v, oral (fem receiving)

❐ a/n && w/c » cause why was i thinking of the girl i like while writing this •

your eyes wandered over the expanse of your bare thigh, your thumb tracing intricate, delicate patterns across the skin.

as you continued this gentle exploration, your mind, a fervent artist, began to conjure vivid, almost tangible images of hickeys and love bites, each one a testament to unspoken desires and intimate moments yet to be unveiled.

these imagined marks seemed to dance across your skin, telling stories of passion and connection, of whispered secrets and shared breaths.

the more you traced, the more detailed these fantasies became, painting a tapestry of longing and affection that lingered in the quiet spaces of your thoughts, awaiting the moment they might become reality.

you bit your lip, your top teeth sinking into your bottom lip as the vivid image of matt pinning you against the wall with a series of fervent, messy top lip kisses played out in your mind.

you longed for his touch, yearning not only for the tender, romantic gestures that spoke of love and affection but also for the intimate caresses that ignited a deeper, more primal connection between you.

the mere thought of his fingers tracing the contours of your skin sent shivers down your spine, awakening a desire that transcended mere physicality and delved into the very essence of your being.

each imagined touch was a promise of unspoken words, a silent symphony of passion and connection that you craved with every fiber of your existence.

he remains oblivious to the manner in which he has haunted your thoughts so stunningly and slowly, like a ghost that lingers in the shadows of your mind.

his presence, though unseen, weaves through the fabric of your consciousness, leaving an indelible mark that time cannot erase.

each memory of him is a haunting melody that plays incessantly, a slow and mesmerizing tune that captivates your soul and refuses to fade into the background.

you felt the heat in your core intensify, a smoldering ember that grew with every breath, as you let out a soft, languid sigh.

rising from your chair, you moved with a deliberate grace, each step resonating with the silent anticipation that filled the room.

as you approached your bed, the air seemed to thicken, charged with the electricity of your unspoken desires, each movement a testament to the inner fire that burned within you.

your mind conjured vivid and surreal tableaux of you and matt, engaged in the most fantastical and absurd escapades upon the canvas of your bed.

these mental images, rich in detail and brimming with whimsy, transformed the ordinary into a realm of boundless imagination, where reality blurred and the extraordinary became your playground.

each scenario, more outlandish than the last, wove a tapestry of shared adventures that defied the mundane constraints of everyday life.

you shook your head, a twinge of guilt gnawing at the edges of your conscience for harboring such feelings about your best friend.

the internal conflict was palpable, a tempest of emotions swirling within you, as you grappled with the delicate balance between affection and loyalty.

each thought was a whisper of forbidden desire, a silent battle between the heart and the mind, leaving you ensnared in a web of introspection and remorse.

you’re conjuring visions, intricate and vivid, within the labyrinth of your mind. these creations, born of your innermost thoughts, dance before your inner eye, leaving you to ponder whether you are mad, bad, or wise.

the line between reality and imagination blurs, and you find yourself questioning the nature of your own consciousness, a philosopher lost in the depths of introspective wonder.

you crawled onto your bed, the soft fabric yielding beneath you as you nestled your back against the headboard. with deliberate, languid movements, you slowly slid your shorts down, the sensation of the cool air against your skin sending shivers up your spine.

your hands roamed over your bare legs, each touch a tender caress, as your mind painted a vivid picture of matt’s touch, his presence almost palpable in the charged atmosphere of your room.

your mind conjured vivid and uncharted scenes, obscenely tantalizing and foreign to your own experiences.

these mental visions, akin to clandestine trysts, featured chaotic, fervent kisses that left your lips tingling, his hands exploring every inch of your being with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

you bit your lip, the sensation sharp and electric, as you slowly slid a finger along the delicate expanse of your skin.

a gasp escaped your lips, a whisper of breath that seemed to reverberate through the stillness, each movement heightening the anticipation and intensity of the moment.

someone once told you that there are no such things as bad thoughts, that it is only through actions that one's true intentions are revealed. yet, as the tendrils of your mind wove intricate tapestries of imagined encounters, you couldn't help but wonder if it truly mattered.

your thoughts had become so vivid, so consuming, that they blurred the line between reality and fantasy, convincing you that the two of you had already crossed that forbidden threshold.

your breaths grew ragged and uneven, each exhalation a testament to the mounting intensity, as you thrust multiple fingers into the searing warmth of your core. the sensation was overwhelming, a conflagration of desire that left you gasping and trembling, each movement igniting a cascade of shivers through your entire being.

the waves of sensation within your abdomen surged and swelled, building to a crescendo that left you breathless.

tears brimmed in your eyes, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of the moment, each droplet shimmering with the raw emotion coursing through you.

"matt!" you cried out, your voice a mingling of desperation and ecstasy, as you felt yourself inexorably approaching the pinnacle of sensation.

"just like that," you cooed, your voice a soft whisper laced with urgency. "please, matt," you pleaded desperately, each word dripping with raw need, as you pumped with an almost frantic fervor, your motions a testament to the overwhelming desire that consumed you.

the rhythm quickened, your movements driven by a fervent desperation, every fiber of your being focused on the singular goal of reaching the pinnacle of pleasure, the intensity of the moment enveloping you both in a whirlwind of fervent passion.

each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat a drumbeat heralding your imminent release, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

"mh- i'm close, matt," you cried out, your voice trembling with anticipation and urgency. each syllable was a raw, unfiltered expression of the approaching climax, the intensity of your emotions palpable in the air.

your body tensed, every muscle coiling in preparation for the imminent release, the words a desperate declaration of the ecstasy that was about to overtake you.

but your voice was abruptly silenced by the sudden, jarring sound of the door swinging open, its movement slicing through the air with a sense of urgency and intrusion.

“y/n?” matt asked, his eyes widened with surprise, yet his orbs were still tracing every bare curve on your body

the knot in your stomach unraveled instantaneously, yet the release eluded you as you withdrew, the waves of pleasure dissipating into the ether.

"oh- oh my god, matt!" you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of mortification and surprise, as you hastily pulled the sheets over yourself, the fabric a flimsy barrier against the overwhelming tide of emotions.

"oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you repeated, each utterance a crescendo of embarrassment, your face buried in your palms, trying to shield yourself from the reality of the situation.

your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the vulnerability laid bare, the intimacy shared now overshadowed by the stark light of self-consciousness.

"y/n, were you-," matt asked softly, his voice a gentle murmur as he closed the door behind him with a quiet click. you nodded, still unable to meet his gaze, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between you.

his question lingered, the unvoiced emotions and shared history adding layers of complexity to the moment, your silent acknowledgment speaking volumes as you remained fixated on the floor, the tension palpable in the space you both occupied.

"hey, it's okay," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm against the tension that filled the room. he reached out gently, his touch light and reassuring, as you slowly pulled your hands away from your face.

the atmosphere, thick with unspoken emotions, began to ease slightly, his words weaving a delicate tapestry of comfort and understanding, attempting to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

matt's eyes drifted down to your lap, where the blanket lay in disarray, before slowly rising to meet your gaze once more. "want me to help?" he asked, his voice a tender murmur, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise.

the sincerity in his eyes conveyed a depth of understanding, as if he sought to bridge the chasm of vulnerability that separated you, offering solace in the midst of your shared uncertainty.

you furrowed your eyebrows, the silence in the room growing thick and heavy.

"what?-" you began to ask, your voice tinged with confusion, but your words were abruptly silenced as matt's lips captured yours in a sudden, unexpected kiss.

the world seemed to tilt, the room's stillness shattered by the intensity of the moment, his actions speaking volumes where words had failed.

you melted into his touch, your body instinctively moving further back against the headboard, creating a space that silently invited matt onto your bed.

he climbed onto it with a fluid grace, his lips never breaking contact with yours, the kiss deepening as the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of shared intimacy and unspoken understanding.

he hastily undid his pants, the urgency in his movements palpable as he momentarily disconnected your lips from his. with swift, almost frantic motions, he discarded the garment, only to return with a fervor that was even more intense.

his lips crashed back against yours, the kiss now charged with a raw, unrestrained hunger that seemed to consume both of you, each touch igniting a deeper, more primal connection.

"please," you whispered against his lips, your breath mingling with his as the words left your mouth. you felt the subtle curve of his smirk against your own, a silent acknowledgment of your plea.

he pulled away, the brief separation heightening the anticipation that crackled between you. with deliberate, almost teasing slowness, he slid down his boxers, each movement a study in restrained desire.

his cock sprang free, glistening with a tantalizing sheen, the sight causing your throat to tighten. you swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, every second stretching into an eternity as the tension between you grew almost unbearable.

"are you sure you want this?" matt asked softly, his voice a gentle murmur that contrasted with the intensity in his eyes, which were filled with a potent mix of lust and understanding.

his gaze bore into yours, seeking confirmation, and you quickly nodded, your heart pounding in response.

the gravity of the moment settled over you both, a silent agreement passing between you as the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared desire.

matt leaned down, his every movement a testament to his practiced skill. as his mouth connected with your heat, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, igniting a fire deep within.

his tongue embarked on a slow, tantalizing journey, tracing a path up your clit. each stroke was executed with precision, a masterful blend of pressure and rhythm that sent waves of pleasure cascading through your body. the world around you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his touch and the rising tide of your arousal. every flick and swirl of his tongue heightened the intensity, drawing you deeper into the vortex of desire that he so expertly commanded.

"matt," you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets with a desperate intensity as he smirked against your heat. the sensation of his mouth connecting to your core was electrifying, a prelude to the overwhelming pleasure that followed.

as he thrust his tongue inside you, a surge of ecstasy coursed through your body, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head. each movement was a symphony of sensation, orchestrated with a skill that left you breathless and yearning for more.

you let out breathy moans, the sound escaping your lips in rhythm with the rising tide of your pleasure. your hand found its way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, unruly locks.

each tug and twist of your fingers seemed to communicate a silent plea, urging him to continue, to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of sensation and connection.

the world around you faded, leaving only the intensity of the moment and the unspoken bond forged in the heat of passion.

matt brought his mouth up to your clit with a deliberate slowness, each movement calculated to heighten your anticipation. as his lips enveloped the sensitive nub, his tongue retreated, only to be replaced by the deft movements of his fingers.

the transition was seamless, a masterful shift from one form of pleasure to another, leaving you breathless and teetering on the edge of ecstasy. his fingers moved with a practiced rhythm, each stroke and curl designed to draw you deeper into the whirlpool of sensation.

matt curled his fingers inside of you with an expert precision, his touch unerringly finding that elusive sweet spot. the moment his fingers made contact, a surge of intense pleasure shot through you, causing your screams to grow louder and more desperate.

your body jolted upwards, an involuntary response to the overwhelming sensation that rippled through every nerve.

each movement of his fingers seemed to amplify the ecstasy, drawing you further into a realm where time and space ceased to exist, leaving only the raw, unbridled pleasure that he so skillfully elicited.

"close," you whispered, your voice trembling as whimpers began to replace your earlier moans. the knot in your stomach tightened with an almost unbearable intensity, each passing second bringing you closer to the precipice of release.

your body quivered in response, every nerve ending alive with anticipation, as the crescendo of sensations built within you, threatening to spill over in a wave of overwhelming ecstasy.

as the tension within you reached its peak, your breath hitched, and your grip on reality seemed to slip. matt's relentless rhythm continued, each movement synchronized with the pulsating pleasure that consumed you.

your body arched involuntarily, a final desperate plea for release. then, with a sudden, breathtaking intensity, the knot unraveled, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping in the aftermath.

matt eagerly savored every drop of your essence, his fervor akin to a man partaking in his final, most cherished feast. each slurp was deliberate and thorough, as if he sought to commit the very taste and texture to memory.

his actions were imbued with a sense of urgency and reverence, transforming the moment into an intimate ritual that left you both breathless and profoundly connected.

matt knelt up, his length engorged and flushed with a deep, fervent crimson. his hands, driven by an insatiable desire, found their way to your waist, each touch imbued with a sense of urgency and longing. he pulled you closer, the magnetic pull between your bodies undeniable, as if the very air around you crackled with the intensity of the moment.

"tell me you want this, baby," matt's voice rumbled, a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. his words, laden with anticipation and raw desire, hung in the air as he meticulously aligned his tip with your entrance, the tension between you palpable and electric.

"i- i want it more than anything," you whispered, your voice quivering with a blend of longing and anticipation. your hands, shaking with an almost desperate need, reached out as you pleaded, "please, matt. i want it inside of me." the vulnerability in your tone and the raw, unfiltered desire in your words painted a vivid picture of your yearning.

you didn't have to tell him twice. with a swift, powerful motion, he thrust his hips against yours, the force of his movement eliciting a deep, primal groan from his lips. simultaneously, a moan of unrestrained pleasure escaped your own, the sound a testament to the intense connection and overwhelming sensations coursing through both of you.

matt's eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment as he remained still within you, a quiet intensity marking the brief pause. after a few heartbeats, he let out a low hiss, his eyes opening to meet yours with a smoldering gaze. "m'gonna start moving, baby," he murmured, his voice a husky promise of the sensations to come.

you nodded desperately, your entire body trembling with an insatiable need to feel more of him. the urgency in your gesture spoke volumes, a silent plea for the connection you craved.

matt, sensing your desperation, began to move his hips against yours with a deliberate, tantalizing slowness. each measured thrust sent waves of electrifying sensation through you, the slow pace intensifying the anticipation and drawing out every moment of your shared desire. the rhythm he set was unhurried yet powerful, a testament to the profound connection between you.

you let out a series of loud, unrestrained moans, each sound a testament to the intense sensations coursing through you.

the initial flickers of pain gradually dissolved, transforming into waves of pure, unadulterated pleasure that consumed your entire being. with each passing moment, the boundary between pain and pleasure blurred, leaving you lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

matt's thrusts grew increasingly erratic, each movement more desperate and uncoordinated than the last. the rhythm that once held a steady pace now dissolved into a chaotic dance of passion and urgency.

you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening with an almost unbearable intensity, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. it was as if every fiber of your being was wound tight, ready to burst forth in a torrent of overwhelming sensation.

the air around you seemed to thicken, charged with the raw, unfiltered energy of your shared desire, creating a crescendo that promised an inevitable release.

matt's lips found yours, a fervent connection that mirrored the growing intensity of his movements. with each passing second, his thrusts increased in speed and urgency, creating a rhythm that was both chaotic and harmonious. the kiss deepened, a melding of breaths and desires, as the pace of his thrusts quickened.

the world around you seemed to blur, leaving only the raw, electrifying connection between your bodies and the fervent dance of passion that ensued.

your legs entwined around his torso with a fervent intensity, drawing him into an even more profound depth, as if seeking to merge your very essences in that moment of unparalleled connection.

the strength of your embrace conveyed a silent plea for closeness, urging him deeper with each heartbeat, creating a symphony of shared desire and unspoken understanding.

it was as though your bodies were communicating in a language beyond words, each movement a testament to the profound bond you shared.

"i'm close," you whisper, your voice trembling with an urgent need as matt's teeth leave a trail of fervent love bites along your neck. each bite sends shivers cascading down your spine, a juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that heightens your anticipation. the air around you thickens with the palpable tension, every whispered word and gentle bite weaving an intricate tapestry of desire and longing.

"give it to me," matt grumbles softly, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through you. he plants soft kisses around your hickeys, each touch a tender contrast to the intensity of his demand. as you release with a loud moan, the world seems to blur at the edges, and every sensation amplifies, creating a symphony of pleasure that resonates between you, binding your bodies in a moment of exquisite, shared ecstasy.

you squirm as matt groans, his voice a deep, primal sound that reverberates through your entire being. your walls tighten around him instinctively, creating a vice-like grip that draws a guttural release from him, deep inside you.

the moment stretches, filled with an electric tension, as every nerve in your body sings with the intensity of the shared climax, a testament to the profound connection that binds you both in this intimate dance.

matt thrusted in and out of you slowly, each deliberate movement mixing your juices together in a sensuous rhythm. the friction and heat between you build with every thrust, creating a symphony of shared pleasure.

finally, he pulls out, the sensation lingering as he collapses next to you, both of you enveloped in the afterglow of your shared passion, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

matt soon rises and strides towards your bathroom, his movements purposeful yet unhurried. after a brief moment, he returns with a damp towel in hand, the coolness of the fabric contrasting with the warmth of your shared intimacy.

his care and attention in this simple act speak volumes, a silent testament to the tenderness that underlies your passionate connection.

matt gently wipes the beads of sweat from your body, each stroke of the towel a tender caress that soothes and refreshes.

as he finishes, he leans in and plants a soft kiss on your lips, the gesture imbued with a quiet intimacy that speaks to the deep connection you share, a silent promise of care and affection in the aftermath of your shared passion.

"so, i take it you like me?" he smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. your laughter bubbles up, light and infectious, as you playfully swat him, the gesture a blend of affection and teasing.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Mamma Masterlist

yay quinn on a well deserved norris trophy win!

"Oh my God," Is all I can say as Quinn's name gets called for the Norris Trophy. Jack standing to my left prompts my legs to do the same, trying my hardest to take a wiggling Ellie from Quinn while Cohen sleeps on my hip, just five months old.

My face nearly splits open from the smile I'm wearing, Quinn ducking in to kiss my lips as he places Ellie on my other hip, kissing the top of her head and the top of Cohens. He moves down the line, hugging Luke and Jack and his parents before moving to the stage.

"Here, Elle Belle, come sit with Uncle Jack," Jack offers, her running over as soon as she's on the ground to take a seat with her 'favorite' uncle.

Thank you, I mouth, Jack just smiling as Luke takes my hand that's not holding the baby to my lap, offering me a smile as the tears trail down my cheeks in joy.

Tears are in my eyes as Quinn makes it up, standing in a room of legends to take his trophy and the microphone.

"First off," He begins, smile bright as day. "I'd like to thank my teammates. It's a great group of guys, and - um -" He pauses, and although I've caught him on more than one occasion practicing for this moment in our bathroom mirror, he needs this moment to think through the next minute and a half.

"The reality of winning an award like this is you can't do it alone, and you really need good players around you. And I certainly have that, so thanks fellas."

"Um- to my coaching staff, great group of people, love playing for you guys. Um- Patrik Allvin and Jim Rutherford, thank you for your continued mentorship and trust. To the Aquilini family, Roberto and Francesco, for being here, nobody cares about the city and the fans more than you guys, so thank you."

"Momma," Ellie tries to whisper, stealing my attention, "Daddy got his award?"

"Yes, baby, Daddy won," I answer, Jack and Luke smiling the brightest.

"And to my family more than anything-" I can't help but look to the Hughes beside me, people who have been in my life for years, and be eternally grateful that I was accepted into it. "My brothers, its surreal to be able to go through the same profession as you guys, and my parents, for your continued support and love."

"And to my wonderful fiance," Oh God I'm not prepared for this. His eyes meet mine, smile growing impossibly larger. "This has been the first season I've been blessed enough to be a father, and truly I feel that's what drove me to be the best captain I could be. I love you and thank you for bringing our gorgeous kids into the world."

I blow him a kiss, tears still streaming as Lu squeezes my hand, chuckling.

"He was nicer to you than he was to us," He mumbles, entirely a joke, but it does earn a small laugh.

"And most importantly and lastly," Quinn continues, eyes on the trophy in hand, "to Roman Josi, congrats on a great season, wherever you are-" His eyes scan the crowd, chuckling when he finds the man in question. "There you are, when I think Nashville Predators, I think you, and you're a fantastic player and they're lucky to have you."

He turns, eyes landing on their next target.

"And Cale, I probably love watching my brothers play most, but I'd say you're next on that list, and I've learned a lot from you, so um, congrats on another great season, and appreciate you guys. Thank you."

His eyes meet mine, smile wide and eyes wrinkled at the corner in joy.

This is my boy, the father of my children and the man I love.

I could not be more proud.

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 3 - reckoning

Theseus Scamander x Reader

"Keep your hands to yourself!" You snap, trying to infuse as much venom into your voice as possible. "I can't," he groans.

summary: a second mission with newt and the group reintroduces theseus's former fiancée, leta lestrange, into the mix. old wounds and insecurities flare as you both reckon with your pasts and make decisions that determine your future.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: romance with plot. some smut. slight angst!! non-canon compliant.

warnings: 18+ smut, semi-public inappropriate touching, dirty talk, hand kink

part one / part two / part three

author's note: it's funny how the title of this fic doesn't really fit anymore HAHA, goes to show that i did not plan this story at all. this part is going to be LONGER & more focused on plot & their character development! hope you enjoy, as always let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

The surreal, electric buzz from the gala dissipates as soon as you enter the elevator at the Hotel de Rome with Theseus.

Theseus's jacket is so large you're practically drowning in it, the sleeves hang well past your hands. You feel like a little girl in a nightgown. The elevator pulleys burr mechanically as it slowly rises, the electric bulb light casting your face in a sickly, ghastly light. The backs of your high heels have begun to dig painfully into your skin, that stinging pain the only thing grounding you to reality, that and Theseus's warm body beside you. You're positive your feet are bleeding.

Your weariness is mirrored in everyone else's faces when you walk into the hotel room at last. It's obvious that they're all overextended. There's no semblance of victoriousness, even after your successful heist.

Newt stands, alert, at the sight of his brother.

"Theseus! Finally, I was beginning to worry-"

"I'm fine, brother," Theseus waves him off. His hair is slightly damp from the snowfall, and his dress shirt as well. "We got caught up, but we're fine."

When Newt turns to speak to you, his lips part but no words come out. He's staring at your mouth. He looks pale and horrified.

"What?" You turn to the others and to Theseus in uncertainty. Tina and Jacob are also looking at you with newfound distress, but Theseus seems as clueless as you, frowning warily at Newt.

Newt makes as if to bring a hand to your face but pulls back at the last moment.

"Oh dear," Newt says. "Y-Your lipstick is smeared... I'm so terribly sorry, Y/N. And your hair—I didn’t think Dietrich would actually-"

Theseus half-raises an arm, cutting his brother short, looking admonished. 

“Actually, Newt, that would be my doing...”

Your face warms considerably. Newt chokes on his words.

“Oh…” He turns to the rest of the group, his face nearly flushed as yours. Jacob lets out a strangled noise and Tina does a discreet double-take between you and Theseus.

“Well,” says Newt, mercifully changing the subject. “We all made off fantastically. Good work.”

You want to share in his congratulations, but it feels premature with Grindelwald still at large. It doesn't feel as though you have much to celebrate in this tiny hotel room, the five of you still standing awkwardly in your evening wear.

"What now?" Asks Tina.

Newt sits on one of the two twin-sized beds and hunches over, forearms on his legs. He is your designated leader, but you have to admit he looks so small and frail without his coat. Thin and unsure of himself.

"I have it on good authority that Credence will be at a mausoleum in the French Alps. He could be heading there now, we have no way of knowing, but he is planning on going there soon. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Why?" Tina's face is full of emotion. You don't know who Credence is, or why he is important to the resistance, but you don't feel that now is the time to ask. It stuns you, the subtlety of her expression, how someone can look so crushed and full of love at once.

"He's, erm, searching for his ancestral records I believe," Newt answers. "The Lestrange artifacts and family tree were moved there from the cemetery in Paris, possibly by Grindelwald. This is likely all a trap set for Credence, but this could very well be our last chance to intercept him. To save him."

Tina is speechless, Jacob nods solemnly.

"Y/N," says Newt. It startles you to hear him say your name in all of this deliberation. "I know you probably don't understand half of what we're saying, and we understand if you don't want to come. But we'll likely run into Grindelwald and his followers. They're after Credence. We could use you."

You don't even have to think.

"Of course, Newt. I go where Theseus goes." You wonder if you sound too intense, too devoted, so you add: "And besides, I want to be of any help that I can."

Theseus reaches out and clasps your hand in his. It thrills you, for him to do this in front of his brother, in front of the others. Your heart races, happily so.

Newt smiles at the sight.

"Sleep," he turns to everyone. "We leave first thing in the morning."

----

The next day, by the time you make it to the French Alps in spats of apparition and stretches of traveling by train, it is nearly dusk again.

You and Theseus had slept like the dead in the too-small hotel room bed, with Tina in the other bed and Jacob and Newt, in a turn of events beyond your understanding, in some hidden compartment within Newt's brown leather suitcase. Strange, but you didn't question it. Your bodies ached when you woke, but it felt like heaven to you, being held by him, you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

"I'm too big for this bed," he lamented, stretching his limbs, when the two of you woke in the morning.

"Hmm, yeah. Too big... " When you smiled coyly and narrowed your eyes at him he threw a pillow at your face. You caught it with a laugh.

"Naughty," he chided.

"The resistance," as Theseus had once jokingly called it, turned out to be not so glamorous after all. The resistance was perpetually tired and forever embarking on some haphazard plans only half-understood.

But when you set foot at the base of the mountains in the Alps, you feel bizarrely energized. This is what you imagined the work of an Auror would be like, chasing leads, pursuing justice through crowded cities and rugged terrain. It feels good to be so proactive after a year of being more or less cooped up in an office at the Ministry. And, best of all, Theseus is here with you. And he wants you, if not your heart then your body, at last, at least...

"This can't be it, Newt," you hear Jacob say, his breath pluming in front of him in small huffs. He struggles through the thick snowbed to catch up to Newt, who is a bit ahead of the group. You're in what looks like a forest clearing, the mountains rise in the distance, gargantuan and feeling a bit holy in their emptiness, their silence.

"He's right. There's nothing out here," calls Tina.

It's a winter forest. A killing wood. In truth, you’ve never been so cold in your entire life. The whole world has turned white as death: white blizzard blotting the air, thick blankets of fresh snow carpet the ground, and everywhere outside the clearing are great white pines standing like sentries, their edges blurred and softened by the snow fog.

You can see what’s in front of you, but you can’t see what’s coming.

Newt walks clumsily back through the budding blizzard to rejoin the group.

"The mausoleum should be a bit uphill from here!" He assures. "It's concealed by magic. Credence doesn't know, but we need someone with the blood of a Lestrange to enter."

The blood of a Lestrange.

Before you can even make the connection, Theseus stiffens beside you and drops your hand.

"Newt, you didn't." His voice is grave.

"I'm so sorry."

You wonder in a shrugging, aloof way why Newt looks to you after saying this to Theseus. It still doesn't mean anything to you.

A branch cracks, a high, ear-splitting sound like a broken bone. When you see the figure emerge from the tree line, your hand is already on your wand.

Grindelwald, you think.

But then Theseus's arm snaps out to yours, stilling your hand, almost just as quick.

"Don't." He says.

She approaches you slowly and you make out who it is almost immediately, just by the shape of her silhouette. Theseus and Newt's reactions make sense now, it all clicks into place with resounding dread. You feel the word "oh" in the pit of your stomach like a dropped stone.

Floating from the forest like that, in her wine-colored silk dress and black coat, Leta Lestrange really does look something like a ghost, or an angel...

When she approaches she walks straight to Theseus.

"Newt wrote to me," she says loud enough for everyone to hear, but she is only looking at Theseus. Looking at him like she's searching for some lifeline there. "Credence thinks he's my brother... We both know this cannot be true. I can help you get inside the mausoleum. I want to help you."

You dare to look at Theseus, bracing yourself. He looks genuinely stricken, lips parted, palms open and hanging limp beside him. So little affects him, he's so confident and secure in himself. But there in the clearing, the look on his face...

Before anyone can speak Newt steps forward again.

"I'm so sorry, but we need to get to Credence before Grindelwald. We have to go. Credence is... sensitive. He's afraid. It's best Tina and I go ahead. Leta, Theseus," he turns to the two, who are having some silent conversation with their eyes. It's so private and familiar you have to look away, you want to scream. "You two follow closely behind."

"What about me?" Jacob chimes in with a nervous laugh.

Newt tilts his head and gives Jacob a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry, my friend. I won't leave you to the wolves. Y/N is a brilliant duelist and a master of all sorts of charms. You two will stay at the very back and wait outside the mausoleum. We can't afford to frighten Credence, and you need to alert us if you see any of Grindelwald's followers coming our way."

You nod numbly. Some roaring white noise fills your ears, anesthetizing the scene in front of you.

"Theseus," you hear Leta say softly. She places a gloved hand on his forearm. "Can I speak with you on the way there?"

"Of course," he responds, graciously, easily. She leads him up ahead.

You keep hoping Theseus will turn to you, even just to look back at you, to reassure, to reconnect now that Leta has been thrust back into the mix between you.

He does not turn back. You stare blankly at the back of his head as it disappears in the blurring snow. He follows Leta into the woods like a man being swept away by magic, following some siren song you can't hear.

'I can't compete with her,' you realize achingly. The truth rings dully in the pit of your stomach, metallically. 'They were engaged. They've been connected since childhood... I'm nothing.'

You try not to wring your hands or shuffle your feet, try not to look like someone left behind, wounded. You blink at the delicate crystals of snow that land on your lashes, hoping that the others don't mistake them for tears.

Newt comes over to you cautiously. He's not one for knowing what to say, but he's perceptive, and kind. Sinking, sinking, you can feel your heart being pulled to your feet and swallowed by the ground.

"Y/N," he begins. "I'm sure... When they were together—but when they separated…" He swallows and starts again. "I’m quite sure my brother’s mind is made up. I know he cares for you too, though I don’t know if he made you any promises-"

“He did not,” your voice sounds acrid, bitter to your ears, petulant, and you hate it. “It’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s okay. He doesn’t owe me anything.” 

'And I don't owe him anything,' you finish in your mind. When really you love him like breathing, need him like water. You're just trying not to let it show.

You want to be nonchalant and unaffected, want to give only what he’ll take. You don’t want to ask for too much. 

You don’t know why loving always takes the form of limitation with you. You withheld your feelings for him for nearly a year. You only ever do what he asks. You turned down jobs and tried your best not to burden him with your feelings, with your past.

Why this mode of loving, why starvation and restraint, when love itself, for you, felt like every door in you burst open at the sight of his face? It was a wild and unwieldy joy, a freeing sort of affection that you felt for him. Now and always. 

You swallow thickly, embarrassed at the speed at which he abandoned you for her. Embarrassed by the way Tina and Newt and Jacob, even, are looking at you.

"Let's go," you say, trying to sound encouraging. Newt and Tina run ahead. You and Jacob walk in silence uphill, trudging through the snow.

----

In the end you don't see any action at all. The mausoleum appeared at Leta's beckoning, a wave of her wand and the stunning glass building, hexagonal, glittered into solidity in front of you. You and Jacob waited outside, as instructed, but through the thick, crystalline glass you could make out that the bodies and artifacts were housed in beautiful stone tombs, scattered in the glass room like giant chess pieces, and you could see what unfolded within.

Leta, Newt, and Tina were talking to Credence. They met him down where he was crouched on the floor, explaining something to him in hushed tones. He was sobbing so softly. And then he was gone, and so was Tina, who left with him.

You feel so utterly mute, so adrift, you're glad that Jacob doesn't speak to you.

Newt is the one who jogs out to you and Jacob. Theseus is still inside talking to Leta, who seems sad in a soft, unperturbed way. He's gazing at her so gently as she speaks. It's the way he looks at small animals, and children, and the people he loves.

Looking at them feels like looking at a photograph, or like looking through the windows at Primrose Hill when you were a child, before you'd outgrown the title of "orphan." You would escape the orphanage to peek into the townhouses, the family homes overlooking Regent's Park. Dining tables and grand pianos, all the lights on. Nothing to hide...

"Y/N," Newt says breathlessly. "We better get going. We beat Grindelwald here, but I don't know by how much."

You cross your arms to help with the cold.

"Okay. Where are we going-"

"Oh, it's probably best if you go back to London. Back to the Ministry. Lay low until you hear from me, or Dumbledore."

You don't know why his goodbye is so cutting. You know that he's not abandoning you too, but it's almost too much.

He purses his lips sympathetically.

"Stay safe, Y/N. Grindelwald is planning something big. But if we act any earlier Grindelwald and the Ministry will be onto us and our efforts will have been in vain."

"I know," you say. "I understand."

You apparate away without another word. You try not to think about the two of them, in the forest clearing, in the glass mausoleum, together in all the years before that, but you allow yourself to wonder when Theseus will notice that you're gone.

----

On Monday you call in sick. You've never called in sick once in your entire time at the Ministry, so your request for a sick day is accepted easily and without complaint.

You sleep the whole day and do not answer the door when you hear the knocks. Knowing who they belong to is agonizing enough. He'd never been to your place before, but you can't imagine that it was difficult for him to procure the address.

You wake from your day of fitful, restless sleeping around 2am. Moonlight streams cold and bright through your chiffon curtains, filling your apartment with blue and silver shadows that you find comforting, beautiful maybe.

When you pad out into your living room, barefoot, you see a letter on the hardwood floor. A creamy envelope that had been slipped under the doorframe, waiting there for you like magic.

You bend down to pick it up and open it. There's nothing on the envelope itself, but you'd know him by handwriting alone, by his breathing, his scent.

Dear Y/N,

I know you're not sick. Because you're never sick. You have the most formidable immune system I've ever come across and I think muggle doctors should study you in a lab for it. But, I confess, that's beside the point...

I know you're cross with me. Please, if I have upset you or, worse, if I've broken your heart, I can assure you it was never my intention. Meaning: if I hurt you it is because I am a fool, and not because you are deserving of any hurt.

Forgive me for my behavior yesterday. I needed to resolve some things, and Leta's arrival was a true shock for me. I behaved poorly to you, but even more unforgivably to Leta, who I left mere weeks before our wedding, confessing my love for another woman. The pain I've caused her haunts me, and I was happy to be absolved of it yesterday evening. Happy to answer her questions and to be forgiven. But I should not have left you there alone. I should not have let go of your hand. I damn myself, because as much as I love you, it seems I've never been able to do it well.

I hope this pitiful explanation and guileless apology will suffice. Come, pretty girl. Come to work tomorrow, I beg you. My whole life is on the floor without you, nothing works, my head's a mess.

Yours,

T

You heart clenches painfully. Your lungs constrict and your hand tightens around the letter. You love him. You want to let it go, what happened between him and Leta, and you and him, in the clearing.

But you can't.

----

Apparently, it's going to be a week of first-times. Because, also for the first time in your career at the Ministry, you are running late.

"Fuck," you hiss to yourself. You hate traveling by Floo Flame, are used to the muggle comforts of walking and the London Underground, but you don't have time.

You dust off the fireplace ash from your shoulders as you walk through the British Ministry.

"Y/N!" you hear. The voice slices through the bustle and noise of the suit-clad workers not with its volume but with its familiarity.

It's him.

'Oh, god. Already?' You'd been hoping to avoid Theseus today. An impossible task, considering he was your boss, but you'd taken on more impossible tasks before. Bigger monsters.

"Y/N, hold on!" Theseus shouts again.

You have to speed up your walking to a near-comical pace to escape his long-legged strides. Hard to do in heels.

You turn your body sideways and push forward through a thicket of office workers with an "Excuse me! So sorry!" to shoulder your way into an empty elevator.

You slump against the back wall, exhaling deeply in relief. No Theseus-encounter after all. You really managed to-

"Aha!" Theseus exclaims, interjecting his overstretched hand just as the elevator doors begin to close. "Perfect. I was just looking for you, Y/N."

You don't respond, but huff in indignation and move aside, making room for him in the small elevator. He presses your floor number, level two, looking far too self-satisfied for someone who just ran across the marble floors of the Ministry of Magic, unrepentantly.

Your heart pounds as the elevator begins to move, you don't know why you can't look at him. Maybe it's because you know, if you did, all would be forgiven. You jolt when he leans forward and pulls the emergency break. The elevator comes to a jerking, screeching halt.

When he looks at you, sidelong, your stomach flips.

"C'mere," he mumbles, and moves to trap your body against the wall.

Your body responds differently than your mouth, arching against the wall, pushing closer to him.

"Ugh, no," you say, mournfully. You want it bad, want him. But you're still angry. It's oddly possessing, the notion that just a kiss from him could save you.

Your words do give him pause, however. He's standing so close to you he basically has you up against the wall, there's no escaping him. His chest heaves, you can feel his breath against your face. You want to press his open mouth to yours, to taste it, open yours to his tongue.

"No?" He echoes dubiously. "Did... did you not get my letter?"

"I got your letter," you retort, feeling flustered. "I found it... insufficient."

He starts forward again, a hand cups your ass. You slap it away.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" You snap, trying to infuse as much venom into your voice as possible.

"I can't," he groans.

"Try harder."

"I am rational and measured about all things in life, except for this, for you."

"Try harder," you say again, more forcefully, ignoring him.

"Hmm," he hums, considering. You don't move this time when his hand traces your thigh through the material of your skirt, you just stare, mesmerized. Your skin breaks out in chills. His fingertips move in lazy, dancing circles.

His hands, his fucking hands. They're so big. Long, elegant fingers with large knuckles. The veins there, the fact that you know what his fingers feel like inside of you...

Theseus follows your gaze with his eyes and scoffs, but not unkindly.

"You want my fingers inside of you, baby?"

He doesn't wait, and when you don't protest he doesn't stop. His hands slide under your skirt, one of his thumbs is pressing firmly against your clit through the lacy material of your underwear. He applies such a steady, unmoving pressure, staring into your eyes relentlessly and leaning his thumb harder and harder into that one spot until you squirm back against the wall with a ragged moan, breaking his burning gaze, not sure if you're more desperate to escape the sensation or to keep feeling it, over and over again.

"Theseus," his name sounds filthy out of your mouth, heady as a moan, though you're actually trying to tell him something. "Really, I just-"

The elevator lurches forward again, shuddering in place for a few moments before resuming its path with a piercing screech. You tumble into Theseus, losing your balance, and he catches you with both his arms.

"What did-"

"I don't know," he says, helping you right yourself, looking over his shoulder at the doors.

The elevator stops at level six, the Department of Magical Transportation. Your face is still flushed red and tingling with heat when the ornamental brass doors slide open and the two of you are greeted by a curious, gawking group of wizards that includes the department head, Mr. Silas Elodius.

"Oh, heavens! Mr. Scamander, it's you," Silas Elodius is a unfailingly happy, plump man. "We were wondering what must've happened! It seemed the two of you got stuck. Well, all sorted now!" He laughs heartily. "Trust our department to get you moving again."

Theseus returns the laugh, a little less enthusiastically. The both of you move against the back wall of the elevator to allow the large group to shuffle in.

"Excuse us, we're headed to level three," Silas smiles wildly, toothily. He tends to talk through his smiling, which makes his next admission all the more horrific. "Terrible accident involving a misplaced potion bottle on the Knight Bus! Boom! Limbs lost. Really nasty business."

"Erm," Theseus seems shaken, at a loss of how to respond, which is uncommon for him. "We'll be level two."

"Right, of course!" Mr. Elodius motions impatiently for one of his several colleagues to press the button. With the combined weight of everyone there, the elevator moves slowly, dragging sluggishly upwards through space. Thankfully, the group does not turn back to you or Theseus, preoccupied with their own small conversations.

Your heart is still thumping pitifully, your pussy still throbbing and aching around nothing, craving his fingers, stuffed inside. You're wet, and there is no relief in sight. But you still want, need, to be mad at him.

"Y/N," Theseus is leaning in, speaking so low that only you can hear him. The sound of your name in his mouth, it's a purr, a plea.

You shudder. "Theseus, please don't."

"If this were my office," he whispers. His hand returns to the front of your skirt, slips beneath the hemline and nudges your underwear aside, slides up, embarrassingly easily, between your slick folds. You lean back against the wall in silent prayer, for him. You're frozen, incapable of moving, incapable of telling him to stop.

"If this were my office," he continues, voice thick and ragged. His finger moves leisurely, pumping in and out, driving you crazy. "I'd have you on my desk with your legs up. And I'd lick you until you cried. I bet you're such a pretty crier. I wanna make you come on my mouth, my tongue."

It takes everything in you to remain quiet, to remain still. Just as you begin to lose yourself in the feeling, your head going pleasantly fuzzy, the elevator dings and he retracts his hand, smoothly, unfussily.

He looks so unaffected, leaning back against the wall. It's you who has to bow your head to avoid Mr. Elodius's eyeline. Your knees tremble.

"Well, this is us! Best of luck, Scamander." Mr. Elodius waits for his people to file out of the elevator before departing.

Theseus salutes him with two fingers, in a charmingly youthful way.

When the doors close again you've recovered more of yourself, your wits.

"Where were we?" He corners you again, kissing the side of your neck.

"I'm mad at you, Theseus." You don't stop him from kissing your neck, but you grip his wrist, haltingly hard, when it starts to reach under your skirt again.

"Mm," he hums against your throat, noting the way you expose more of it, craning it for his access. "No, you're not."

With a nip of his teeth, he extracts a whine and a tremor down your legs. You imagine his hands, his beautiful big hands, coming around your throat, squeezing, applying pressure there until you go light-headed. You want to be choked by him. You want to get down on your knees in this elevator and unbuckle his belt and take him into your mouth until he's the one who is needy and whining, wanting it bad, moaning and praising you, calling you a good girl.

The elevator dings for the final time and you have to physically push him off of you. He falls back without a fight.

"Our floor," you say, trying to make your expression into something like a glare. You're not very good at resenting him.

For a moment you're not sure what he's going to do to you. It's scandalizing and rousing, the idea that he might grab you, touch you anyway. The look in his eyes is black and beyond hungry, sapped of all restraint. He gulps and clenches his jaw. Blinks at last.

Ever the gentleman.

"Of course, after you," Theseus says. He motions for you to walk ahead of him.

You stomp off to your shared office, trying pathetically to fix your skirt and your hair and any other part of you that looks disheveled.

When he comes into his office behind you and closes the door, latching the lock, he looks equally undone. Vulnerable almost. It's not only that he needs you, which he does, but that he wants to make it okay and doesn't know how.

"Y/N," he makes a vague, defenseless gesture, throwing up his arms weakly, and sighs. "I don't.... How can I make it right? How can I make it up to you?"

It's a cheerless, pitiful noise, your responding laugh.

"Don't worry, Theseus. I got your letter. And besides, I manage my hopes quite well on my own."

"I wish you wouldn't. Don't."

You scoff.

"No, it's my fault for hoping for more from you. You're asking me to, what, put my faith in the world?" You know your tone is sharper than intended, and your expression is that of a burned woman, hardened and jaded.

But he doesn't hold it against you. You try not to flinch away when he steps forward and brings a hand up to your face, to your cheek.

"No, I'm asking you to put your faith in me."

You could cry at this tenderness he's affording you.

"I just," you gently place your hand over his and lower it from your face. "I just can't believe that you don't feel anything for her. I can't shake the way I felt watching you leave me, without a second glance."

Your voice breaks on the last word. You're admitting more than you bargained for. Admitting that this is the way you've felt your entire life. The orphanage, your parents, every adult who promised to help you, to save you, and didn't. It was too familiar of a pain for it to hurt as badly as it did, being left behind.

"Leta, she... I don't know what you mean," he says, shaking his head.

“Theseus, I'm not stupid! I saw the way you went after her! The way you left me behind, it was like I ceased to exist. You obviously still have feelings for her—"

“I have feelings for you!" He raises his voice in frustration, and it startles you. "She’s the one I left behind, for you.” 

You feel so worked up, so overheated. You don't want to be fighting with him, not now, not ever.

"I-I don't believe you-"

"Y/N, you are essentially calling me a liar right now. I don't know what else I can say to make you believe it, you act as if I took off with her and kissed her-"

"You didn't have to! You already have been for the last two years, Theseus!" Your hands are wavering, your bottom lip too. "I don't believe you because, if it's true what you told me, about you leaving her for me, why didn't you act in the months after?! You proposed to Leta mere months after dating, but for the months you were single you didn't try to-"

"I was your boss, Y/N! I was trying to be a good man, a good friend!" He rakes a hand through his hair roughly.

"So I'm just supposed to believe that you left your fiancée to live a life as my friend? To continue working with me like-"

“I apologize if that’s too difficult for you to believe, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” His tone is brusque, almost business-like.

It's like a shot to the heart. His lack of understanding, lack of seeing.

“Too difficult for me to believe? Me?!” You’ve never raised your voice at him like this, every word is straining out of you, painfully. Any semblance of control you had is unspooling, rapidly. “Theseus, my second month here I was offered a position as an Auror, my dream job, what I’d worked so hard for at school, and I turned it down to keep being your assistant! I turned it down to keep living a life in your shadow. I thought that if I could make myself smaller for you I could-"

You can’t continue, the tears rise up in a saltwater tide in your lungs. You turn your head away, quick, so he doesn’t see your face break.

"Y/N," he says, gentle, broken. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Maybe you didn't want to know. I... I know you desire me, Theseus. I'm sorry, at one point I thought I could just sleep with you, and I wouldn't need anything more, but.... Oh, god, I'm sorry."

You rub at your eyes aggressively, even as the tears continue to fall, in a self-conscious and fruitless display.

He looks so lost, looks like he very badly wants to comfort you, to hug you, but no longer knows if he's allowed to.

"Y/N, I can recommend you for promotion, I can-"

"It's fine, Theseus. I made my decision and I've lived with it. There are no open positions right now anyway, the post was filled."

It's silent for long enough that the quiet no longer hangs there like an awful, third body between you. You regain your composure, the tears pass and give way to a hollow feeling.

"Y/N," Theseus speaks at last. He's standing across his office still, but the look in his eyes is so full of longing and yearning, he could've been across a train platform, a crowded room, a continent. "I have not been doing this right. I should've asked you to be my girlfriend a long time ago, I know. For that I am ashamed. But..."

He licks his lips and inhales sharply, trying to find the words.

"Y/N, please don't accuse me of lusting after you. What I feel for you is nothing so shallow as lust. Yes, I want to be inside you all the time, but that's because being close to you, this," he steps forward and places a cold hand against your chest demonstratively, below your neck, skin to skin, "This isn't close enough."

You look up into his seaglass eyes, your heart in tatters. Him, it's always been him.

"I miss you when I'm with you," he says. "I love you, I've told you before and I'll tell you again and again, but it's up to you to believe it, sweetheart."

When you still don't say anything, can't find the words, he looks crestfallen, closes his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asks you, opening them.

And you can't answer. To love him freely? To feel held and chosen by him? To live your dreams and relinquish your past without shame or grief or hesitation? Before you begin to say anything at all, the words building and budding at the back of your throat like a flower about to bloom, a knock sounds at the door.

Theseus closes his eyes and sighs, pained.

"Theseus-"

"I have to go," he says tersely. "I've been gone with my brother for too long. The department heads have called me in for questioning. I don't know when I'll be out."

You nod, swallowing.

He looks at your face, a look of determination settling on his.

"I promise to make it right."

----

It's past closing time and Theseus still has not returned from the depths of whatever secret, dim-lit corner of the Ministry they took him to for questioning. All day you've spent heartlessly filling out paperwork, finishing up your research assignments, stewing in anxiety.

Please, keep him safe. You think to no one in particular. Please.

You reluctantly leave the office, hoping to find him in the Atrium. You sit there glumly at the edge of the fountain, shooting periodic glances towards the elevators and the staircases, hoping to see him emerging from the Department of Mysteries, maybe, or the Courtrooms. Even the paper missives, usually magicked into airplane and bird shapes, have stopped flying overhead in the Atrium. The Ministry is emptying out, there's hardly any foot traffic at all.

You feel as though you handled everything, your insecurities and emotions, so artlessly, so recklessly in your last conversation. You are aching to make it better.

Eventually, you walk back to level two in a daze, pushing through the heavy oak door to the Aurors Offices with all the attention of a sleepwalker, your mind elsewhere.

You nearly trip on the house elf in front of the door when you stumble into Theseus's office. The elf grumbles in discontent.

House elves? Your shared office is hardly recognizable. Half-cleaned out, three Ministry house elves are busy at work, boxing and taping and scrubbing the furniture and shelves clean. Your stomach lurches.

Theseus. Where are all his things? Was he found out? Arrested?

Your voice sounds like a stranger's to your ears, so transformed by sheer panic.

"Hello, excuse me!" You say to one of the house elves. He looks over in open disdain, though you can't blame him, seeing as you almost crushed him just now. "Hi, yes, what is going on? What are you doing with Mr. Scamander's things? I'm his assistant."

"Mr. Scamander," the elf drawls, setting aside his mop bucket with a melodramatic thunk and splash. "No longer works here."

The elf tries to turn back to his work when you lunge forward and grasp him by the shoulder. He looks at your hand on him in abject shock.

"Please!" You beg, falling to your knees to better convince the house elf. "I need to know what's happened to him, it's important."

"Nothing has happened to him, miss. He turned in his letter of resignation an hour or so ago!" The elf shakes you off of him, none too gently.

He gestures rudely to the two, untouched pieces of paper laid out on the desk. Everything else has been cleared.

You snatch up the nearest page with a shaking hand, eyes racing over the words.

It's from the heads of your department, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it confirms what the elf told you. Theseus gave up his position and designated you as the one he desired to fill the post. The Aurorship is yours.

The letter requested that you complete a trial period of one month, as it was unheard of for a witch with no Auror experience to take up the Head Auror post. But they were amenable if the trial period went well. These were dark days, recruits were scarce and few other Aurors were jumping to fill the position. Your confirmation meeting with the department heads was to be after work, at 7pm.

It's nearly that time now.

You blink at the words on the page, astounded and a bit shell-shocked.

You're hardly thinking at all when you pick up the second letter, hands moving with an automaton, detached fluidity.

Dearest Y/N,

The questioning did not go well. I had to act quickly, darling. I was thinking only of you.

Take the Head Auror position and be safe and happy forever. Blamelessly, and knowing you are loved.

Or, meet me at King's Cross Station tonight, at 7:15pm. If you'll have me, if you love me. I'm joining the fight against Grindelwald, for good. I'm meeting my brother and the others at Hogsmeade.

I am horrified that you ever put me over your dreams, and that I gave you so little in return for it. If I could turn back time, I would've done it all differently. I would've made you mine.

My love, you couldn't answer me when I asked you what you wanted today, so I wanted to give you this choice now.

It did not make much sense for me to stay at the Ministry. They were suspicious of me from the start, war hero or not, because of my relation to Newt. You could do wonderful things, have so much more influence than I could. There were no other open Auror positions for you to take but mine, but I can give you this one part of my life, easily. God knows I'd give you the rest if you asked.

I cannot promise your safety, or your happiness, but I can promise to love you, as I do now, as I always have, no matter what you decide. My heart is yours alone. All you have to do is reach out and take it.

Yours,

Theseus

Reading the words on the page, feeling your own breath suck in and whoosh out of your lungs, hearing it, it's all so surreal.

Your heart flutters meekly, wounded at either prospect. But you want to choose yourself. Who has ever chosen you? You need to be on your own side this time.

You glance at the clock and curse. You shouldn't have spent so much time waiting in the Atrium, floating about the Ministry.

"I can't go, I won't go," you decide. "It's too late anyway."

Who knew if you'd even be able to have a real relationship with him? Even if you believed his love for you, and that he was over Leta, and somehow overcame the horrors and traumas of your life that you hadn't begun to confront... who knew if it would work? That would be its own, new, excruciating pain, having loved and it still not being enough...

"I'm staying," you think to yourself. "I am. He doesn't know what he's asking of me, he doesn't really know me at all. I'm staying. I'm taking the position."

At first you thought the words to convince yourself, reaffirm and reinforce. But they don't sound as improbable as you thought. This happiness doesn't sound too good to be true, it sounds as if it could belong to you after all.

You sigh, trembling, and begin to go through the empty drawers of Theseus's old desk, imagining your life, or trying to.

You reach for the bottommost drawer, pulling it open.

The sight of the worn little clothbound book snags your vision like a thorn. You pull it out in a trancelike state and read the title: Garden Parting by P. M. Kipling. The memory rises without you even having to reach for it, like a face in water.

-----

One Year Ago

It was only your fourth week at the office. This bloody idiot named Henry Ludgate somehow came to the insane conclusion that if he talked to you enough, or talked at you, more fittingly, you would like him back. So every one of your lunch breaks, without fail, he'd come searching for you in the Atrium to talk your ear off about nothing at all.

At the present moment, he was trying to strike up a conversation about women's shoewear, a hard topic for even far better conversationalists.

"I actually do like flat shoes, or 'flats,' are they? But I only like the ones with a bit of heel, all the other types of flats are terribly unattractive I think."

You were dimly aware of your boss, Theseus Scamander, watching this all unfold with a lackadaisical amusement. He was leaning against a newsstand of The Daily Prophet pretending to read it, but really you knew his sly smile at the front page was for you.

"So, not flats?"

"Sorry?" Henry always jumped at the excuse of poor hearing to lean uncomfortably close to you.

You rolled your eyes, not caring if Henry saw or not.

"If the flats you say you like have heels, doesn't that make them not 'flat shoes'?" You asked curtly.

Henry stared at you dumbly. "Oh, right. So it's 'heels' I like then."

You flicked your gaze up to his, irritably.

"So how many pairs do you own, then?"

You thought you saw a rustle of paper in the corner of your vision--undoubtedly Theseus was choking back some fit of laughter.

Henry attempted to clear his throat but only seemed to choke, rubbing a half-fist on his chest touchily.

"What?! Pardon me, not for myself!" He was veritably red in the face, not pink or any subtle, healthy flush, but bright red. "I-I meant I like heels on women, on you."

You could barely tamp down your frustration. This was supposed to be a restful lunch break, a good hour of no-work, and yet you seemed to enjoy your actual work more than this (for many reasons, the first reason beginning with the letter T and the last reason being the way the first reason smiled at you whenever you said something bright, or funny, or kind. He had a smile like light cracking open the sky at dawn, it so completely transformed the rest of his face, always reaching his eyes).

"Henry," you sighed, indulgently, maybe a bit patronizingly. "As much as I am grateful for your... fashion tips, and your riveting conversation, I really do prefer to read on my lunch breaks. I'll have to excuse myself."

You turned on your heel before he could protest, finding another secluded corner of the Atrium by the fountain. You pulled out the book, Garden Parting, as more of a prop, or a shield, or a comfort object, like a teddy bear. You had no intention of reading it right now. Not when...

Just as you suspected. You saw the shadow come over your shoulder, the shape of his figure, his hands in his pockets. Even that, his outline or shadow, stirred up some feeling you couldn't name in your chest, in the cavity there, next to your heart.

"Mr. Scamander," you sighed. "I really don't understand what sort of sadistic pleasure you gain from watching Ludgate torture me with mind-numbingly boring conversation."

You said this without turning, already smiling. Theseus sat down beside you, gingerly, beaming.

"It's entertaining," he said. The deep rumble of his voice was pleasant. "The way you eviscerate him. It's my favorite part."

There was something so attractive about the tilt of his eyes, hooded, and the curl of his hair, a strand falling loose over his forehead. He brought his bottom lip under his teeth, bit down and squinted at you.

"Do you really prefer to read on your breaks, Y/N?"

You scoffed, mock-offended.

"Yes! Do you really read The Daily Prophet on yours?"

"No, not at all," he admitted, shamelessly and with a boyish smile. "What are you reading?"

You suddenly felt self-conscious. You almost didn't want to show him. Your book was soft and worn, the cloth corners frayed, the text on the front half chipped off.

Against your instinct and your nature, you found yourself reluctantly handing him the book. Your mortification increased tenfold when he didn't take it from your extended hand, he only stared at it unreadably.

"What-" you began.

"Wait," Theseus turned to his suitcase, set it down on the tiled floor beside the fountain and clicked open the latches. "Garden Parting by P.M. Kipling, right?"

He was speaking so excitedly, shuffling around in his suitcase.

'No way,' you thought, and then, because you couldn't help it:

"Oh, you're kidding," you gasped. "No, Theseus! You're kidding. I swore I was the only person in London with a copy."

Theseus pulled it out at last, victorious. A sleek hardcover, newer than yours, but creased from frequent reading.

"Oh, Theseus!" You brought your hands up to your mouth. You were always worried your emotions, especially excitement, would make it harder to be taken seriously at work. You endeavored to dampen and mute them, but you could not hide your girlish elation at this inexplicable commonality between the two of you.

He smiled at your reaction, a slow, warm smile.

"Who knew you had a secret affinity for muggle literature?" You tried to make your tone teasing and demeaning but couldn't commit to it, you were too surprised by the force of your own joy.

"My roommate at Hogwarts was muggleborn. He gave it to me."

"You carry it with you too?" You asked, still in disbelief.

"Everywhere!" It was a breathy admission, half a laugh, earnest. "I like to reread certain parts. It doesn't get old." He was smiling so big it was almost heart-wrenching, you did not think he had ever looked at you like that, eyes blazing with naked enthusiasm. Looking at you like you were holding some key, to what you didn't know.

"No one seems to know about it," he continued with a shrug. "I've been waiting for someone to talk with about this book since I was sixteen."

"Oh," you kept saying. You wondered if he thought you sounded stupid for it, or if he thought it was endearing. "There's this one part I think about almost every day. In the purple glass house, with the broken arm used to-"

"-To praise God and 'be done with it'?" He finished for you.

Then miraculously, he flipped his copy open, paper fluttering, to a sole, underlined paragraph. The very same.

"It's like we're speaking the same language," He whispered with an incredulous laugh, but his eyes were reverent.

You flashed him a smile, one that was glowing and real. You were holding his copy of the book between you now, like children with a shared toy, or like lovers reading a roadmap.

"What language? English?" You asked sarcastically, making a funny face.

But you had known what Theseus meant. What wavelength of sense that you two, alone, could access. How the world spoke to you both in the same ways, through the same channels of meaning.

Garden Parting was the only object you had from your deceased parents, the only thing that survived your childhood. It was a children's chapter book that your father used to read to you, quite a grim piece of magical realism about a lot of things, but mostly about a girl condemned to go back to her burning house and stay there, inside, until the flames went out. There's no question that it will be swallowed whole, that she will burn to death in the place she was born.

When Theseus spoke again his eyes were shining, perceptively.

"Is that you then?" His voice was subdued, made gentle, intentionally. His eyes looked strangely dark inside the black stone interior of the Ministry, blue like river slate, dim like rain. "The main character, that's you?"

It was the most you'd ever revealed. It was a single, quiet word.

"Yes," you said.

Theseus placed a hand on your forearm. You didn't dare move, react, for fear he would stop touching you. A bird on your windowsill.

"I'll be the great owl then," he said. "The one that takes her away at the end.... Or Reggie, the one that's her friend. Whatever you want."

You laughed, bleakly. You felt pressured to speak, nonsense, anything to cover up how much his words meant to you.

"Really," you said. "It's my favorite book, but sometimes I can hardly get through it, there's so much pain in her life. I get so anxious..."

"Here," Theseus plucked a ribbon from his suitcase and flipped open your copy of the book. He placed the ribbon strategically towards the back, surgically almost, his long fingers lining it up with the interior spine, right in the scene where the owl takes the girl away and there's happiness set aside for her in life, after all.

"I'll mark it with this," he said. Neither of you were looking at each other anymore, the moment was too intimate to bear. But you were both thinking of each other, talking to each other. "So you can remember how it ends."

-----

The memory of that day by the fountain is so unexpected that it is the first time you're remembering it at all.

'Maybe he does know me after all, does see me.'

The thought is a shattering one.

'Oh, god.'

You check the time. It's 6:50pm. You pull on your coat and snatch your purse off the desk. If you leave now, right now, you can intercept him.

Theseus has to know you're coming. Even if you don't make it onto the train, he has to see your face on the platform, through the window, even. He has to know that you're choosing him.

You apparate as far as you're able and begin to run towards the station the rest of the way.

You're coming for him, each pounding step you're coming, heart soaring, this is that freeing love that grows and grows and stretches out into space like air. And you're going to tell him everything, every wish and every nightmare, you're going to--

A hand shoots out and pulls you backward by the neck. The grip is so hard that you taste blood, everywhere, in your mouth.

You yelp but the sound is lost as you are torn through the air, choking through space. Being forcibly apparated always feels like choking, like being pushed down a flight of stairs repeatedly. You can't catch your breath or your footing, you don't know where you're being taken.

Dark material whooshes and cuts around you. You hardly feel a thing.

Could someone at the Ministry have seen the letters left on your desk? Read them? Were you and Theseus positively identified at the gala in Berlin, or maybe outside the mausoleum? Before you've even arrived at your captor's destination, your mind whirls helplessly, to Grindelwald, to the situation at hand, and then, finally, to Theseus, who is waiting at Platform 9 3/4 for a girl who will never arrive, for a girl he will assume is telling him "no."

It happened so fast you didn't even have the time to turn around, to touch your wand. You were apparated away, stolen into thin air, before you could even set foot inside the station.

---

part four here

authors note: yeah i did watch the last letter from you lover on netflix and YEAH it did inspire this fic and rewire my brain at the same time. SORRY this fic ended on a cliffhanger and was so long!! we just had a LOT of ground to cover, but the subsequent parts should be back to the normal length!!

i like writing a mix of smut and romance plot but let me know if you prefer one to the other (also garden parting isn't a real book if that wasn't obvious) OK BYYEEE love you thanks so much for all the replies and feedback :))

also i have yet to read through this for typos so maybe! come back in a day or so for the final version?

taglist: @karashaw99 @gracieroxzy @mystic-mara

[secondbeatsongs]

Hello, you said in some tags in a poll that Speed Racer (2008) is your favorite film. If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to hear more about why you love it. I love the Wachowskis’ work (they’re among my favorite directors), but I kinda ended up bouncing off Speed Racer (2008). So, hearing that it had a real impact on someone makes me very curious why. I’m not interested in criticizing your opinion or arguing with you, I’d just really like to know why you love it in the hopes I might be able to enjoy that movie more in the future.

oh god this is from seven months ago, I'm so sorry - but I do love almost everything about Speed Racer (2008) and I still think about it nearly every day.

I love that it's so bright and colorful and absurd. I love that it's an anime in live action form. and I love that at its heart, it is a story about love.

it's about the mistakes people make out of love, and the consequences of that. it's about the way children grow to understand why the adults around them make the choices they do, and maybe choose to do the same things. it's about taking risks for the people you love, and the pain of failing to change the world, because everything is capitalism and everything hurts.

(and it's also about being transgender btw. like, that's one of the main things about it - it is very much a movie about being transgender)

what if your father's choices hurt your older brother, and your older brother's choices hurt you, and now it's you and your younger brother staring down a future where you're going to end up hurting him by making the same choice?

and then...what if you can escape that? what if the broken parts put themselves back together, and the hope doesn't run out, and you're not alone with the things that haunt you? what then?

and now you're at the end and mistakes were still made, people were still hurt, but everyone's grown and changed and they're different now. and they've figured out that maybe, just maybe, you can change the world by doing something you love, by creating art and beauty and making people feel things.

maybe you really can defeat capitalism by driving a car really fast. and even if everyone thinks you can't...don't you have to try anyway? shouldn't you fight with the skills you have, the only way you know how?

what if it works?

and I'm not even gonna get into most of the Racer X stuff (because I want people to go watch this movie, and most folks probably won't be spoiled for it), but his whole deal is just...everything. I love him.

(if there's a guy from Speed Racer that I want to put in a jar and shake every so often, or maybe wrap in a blanket so he can have a nice nap, it's Racer X. he's a great character. prime blorbo material)

anyway I've been rotating this movie in my head ever since I saw it for the first time, and I think I've seen it...seven? times now? and I still cry at the final race, and I still get blown away by the intro sequence.

(the beginning of the movie is genuinely one of the best things I've ever seen - it does an amazing job of introducing you to the world and the story of the characters, and gets you emotionally invested in it right from the start. it's fantastic filmmaking)

also like. story stuff aside, from a technical standpoint, the movie is a masterpiece. it's the type of thing that people hated when it first came out, but when you look at it now and see how it was made, how it intentionally looks bizarre and cartoonish, plastic and surreal, you can see the exact vision the Wachowskis were going for, and it's brilliant.

the way they did the visual effects, the way they made the outdoor scenes feel so detailed, the way the driving and the tracks work - they put so much thought into that, and the behind-the-scenes vids show how cool their process was.

also uhhh cars go vroom, crash into each other, flip upside down, explode, maybe have bees and hammers in them sometimes?

(the above is me complimenting the unhinged vibe of the races themselves, which I love very much)

anyway I could make other full posts about the script of the film and how much I love it, or the cool side characters, or the fanfic potential of the amazing world of the film, or how I can prove that it's set in 1991...but I guess if anyone wants those rants, they'll just have to watch the film and then come talk to me. :)

(please. please come talk to me about Speed Racer.)

so, yeah! I kinda lost my mind there and made this post way longer than I intended, but I do feel strongly affected by this movie, and I hope this has helped explain why.

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

It has been two days since you received the e-email that would forever change your life and the first person you wanted to tell was not your father Dermont, but rather your best friend Nina.

You could almost feel the weight of the email on your chest as you walked toward the coffee shop where you and Nina often met, the buzz of Dublin’s streets merging into a backdrop of excitement.

You've known Nina ever since highschool. Your two fathers have been friends for years, and their bond essentially stitched together a friendship for the both of you that felt as natural as breathing.

At twenty years old, Nina was the oldest of three children, with her younger brother being seventeen and her other sister being fifteen.

You, on the other hand, were an only child but never felt lonely, thanks to the chaos your friends often brought into your life. You were twenty years old as well and just finished an eighteen months drama course at Dublin's Theatre School, and finally, you felt the thrilling rush of your dreams inching closer.

As you pushed open the cafe door, the bell chimed, pulling Nina’s head up from her book. She looked up, knowingly expectant, and set it aside.

“Tell me you haven’t been here long,” you said, sliding into the seat across from her, breathless with urgency. You had a habit of being late unless it came to work committments and Nina should have been used to it by now.

“Only a few minutes," Nina replied, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Oh good. I am sorry for being late. Again," you told her with a slight chuckle before breaking out in a big grin.

Nina raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, the hint of a smile dancing on her lips.

"Why are you smiling at me like this?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in mock suspicion.

"Well," you started as you tapped your fingers on the table, trying to calm the electric excitement bubbling in your chest.

"I got... I got a part! In a movie!" you told her and Nina immediatly squeaked and nearly knocked her coffee over.

"What? A movie? How? When? What's it called?" she wanted to know and, even though her father was a rather famous Oscar winning actor with countless accolades, the excitement in her voice sounded genuine, almost as if she didn’t have connections to the industry.

“Don't get angry, but," you began to respond, drawing it out “I auditioned for the Peaky movie six weeks ago, and I just found out that I got a part!”

Her eyes widened as she leaned back, processing your words as if they were a punchline to a joke.

"You know that you could have asked my dad for a role or something, right?" Nina said, excitedly nonetheless.

“I know, but I wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t want his name backing me up,” you said, excitement battling against nerves.

Nina pressed her lips together, reconsidering. “Well, congratiolations then. I think that’s huge!" she chimmed in excidetly.

“Thanks! It feels surreal to even say it out loud. I auditioned for three different roles and I didn't expect to get any of them to be honest," you said as you propped your chin on your hands, watching the steam rise from her coffee.

“But you are fantastic and Steven Knight would have seen that right away ," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Now tell me though, does my dad know yet?" she asked before carrying on. "How about your dad? Does he know?" she wanted to know, excitement evident in her voice.

“Not sure about your dad, seeing how he is a producer on the show, but I haven't told anyone yet. I wanted you to be the first to know," you said, leaning forward.

Nina's eyes sparkled with mischief as she wanted to know more about your first movie role. “Well, he hasn't said anything to me yet, so I guess he does not know," Nina stated, a big smile stretching across her lips. "Now tell me though, what role did they give you?" she asked and, of course, this was a question you dreaded to answer.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I’m playing… Thomas Shelby's new love interest," you told her with a hint of ermberassment in your voice and watched as her face froze mid-sip.

“Wait, hold up. Thomas Shelby's love interest?" she gasped, nearly spilling her coffee. "You mean his new wife or his new fling, because from what I understand, there two roles like this in the movie," Nina said, having secretly read the script.

"The fling. The young girl he meets in Small Heath,” you clarified, leaning in, your voice lowering slightly, almost conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with her. "I would be way too young to play his wife," you clarified as Nina leaned back, wide-eyed, her fingers curling around her coffee cup as if bracing for impact.

“Jesus Y/N,” Nina continued, her eyes narrowing. "You can't possibly take that role," she declared, her voice scratching at the edges of disbelief.

"Why not?" you asked, a little suprised by her change in demure.

“Because it means you’ll have to make out with my dad!” she blurted out, her voice rising an octave as if discovering a scandal in a soap opera.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s just acting, Nina!" you chuckle, feeling amused by her dramatic reaction.

“You still need to kiss him, don't you?" Nina gripped her coffee cup tightly, her eyes wide with mock horror. "I mean, eeww!"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "It's not that bad," you continued, the laughter bubbling up again. “It’s like a stage kiss. You just… do it. Lights, camera, action, and then you move on. It's all pretend.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head like you’d just offered her brussels sprouts for dessert.

“Pretend or not, it’s still my dad,” she huffed, crossing her arms like a stubborn child. "He is old and it's disgusting!"

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Your dad is not that old. He’s—”

“Forty-eight!” she interjected, voice booming like an air horn.

“He looks younger," you defended, defending both Cillian’s age and your newfound opportunity.

Nina rolled her eyes, her expression a blend of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re seriously going to kiss my dad on camera, and if that doesn’t scream 'public embarrassment,' for the both of us then I don’t know what does!”

You leaned back, arms crossed in mock defiance. "He might be your dad, but I can positivly guarantee you that a lot of girls our age would so want to be me when that happens," you mused, joking about the tidal wave of jealousy that was bound to crash over their heads.

Nina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Right,” she laughed like the devil's advocate has appeared. "I am so not going to watch this movie now," she proclaimed, shaking her head before deciding to finally change the topic.

****

Meanwhile, Cillian arrived on set in Liverpool. He had flown in from Dublin that same morning in order to attend a meeting between the producers and the casting director.

Filming was just around the corner, starting in less than eight weeks, and only a few days ago, the final cast members were selected by Shaheen, the casting director.

Cillian stepped into the bustling studio, the air thick with excitement, chatter, and the hum of activity. Crew members maneuvered around with equipment while costumes were being meticulously arranged nearby amidst the chaos. Cillian walked through the flurry, his deep blue eyes scanning the room, searching for familiar faces.

There was a lot to get ready now and everything had to be done swiftly.

“Cillian!” Shaheen’s voice cut through the chatter, pulling his attention. He turned to see the casting director striding toward him, the usual energy in her step indicating that there was something important to discuss.

"We had a few last minute changes to the cast as three of our initially selected applicants are no longer available," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

Cillian sighed, bracing for whatever news followed. “What’s the change? I thought things were solid by now.”

“Right, so the change is—” Shaheen started, pulling out the list. "We have secured Rebecca Ferguson now to play Thomas Shelby's wife. But we already discussed this possibility last week and you approved." Shaheen explained and Cillian nodded, recalling the conversation with Shaheen and Steven and welcoming the change.

"We also have a young man by the name of James Dwyer who will be playing one of the new gang members. It's not a big part, but integral. He seemed talanted and has the right looks. You've got some scenes with him," she continued, flipping through her notes.

"Right, sounds good so far," Cillian replied, nodding approvingly. He continued to scan the room, searching faces for anyone he knew. "Then there's the last casting announcement," Shaheen said, her fingers flicking through the papers. Cillian’s interest piqued, his gaze sharpening.

“Go on, then. Hit me with it,” he urged, curiosity knotting in his stomach.

Shaheen took a breath, seemingly savoring the suspense. “We were trying to find the perfect fit for Thomas Shelby’s love interest, and after extensive auditions, the role went to a somewhat unknown actress instead of the talents you had in mind," she said, glancing at her notes again before locking eyes with Cillian. "But she was by far the most talanted and fits the description of the role," she concluded.

“Okay, what's her name?” Cillian asked, wondering whether he had heard of it before.

“Y/N Whelan,” Shaheen said, her voice steady but the slightest hint of curiosity danced in her eyes. "I believe she is from Dublin too," she explained as Cillian choked on his water.

He coughed, a ripple of confusion mixing with the unexpected twist of emotion. “Y/N Whelan?” he asked before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, disbelief creeping into his features as he processed the information.

“Yes," Shaheen nodded, her brow furrowing slightly at his reaction as she handed him your application form with photograph. “Do you know her?”

Cillian stared at the photograph, disbelief washing over him. Your bright eyes sparkled with a mix of ambition and innocence, while a playful smile graced your lips. It was all too surreal. Cillian stared at the photograph, his mind racing.

“Fuck," Cillian muttered under his breath, running a hand through his grey hair, suddenly feeling the weight of this new development.

“What’s wrong?” Shaheen raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in his

"She is my best friend’s daughter,” he said, barely masking the surprise in his voice as he rubbed his temple, feeling the heat of an immovable conflict settling in.

Shaheen blinked, clearly processing the revelation. “And that’s an issue… why?"

Cillian leaned against the table, wrestling with his thoughts. “Because I don’t want to be the one making out with her on screen. She's new to the industry. She’s got that raw talent, sure, but she’s… she’s Y/N,” he stuttered, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Cillian,” Shaheen interrupted, her voice steadying as she placed a hand on his arm. “She was by far the best for the role and you know how this works but, if you want me to cast someone else, then I will do it,” she offered, her tone firm but gentle.

Cillian shook his head, torn. “No, no. That’s not fair to her. She earned it,” he replied, positioning himself upright, resolving to put aside his discomfort.

Tags:

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@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

My Outsiders experience last night!!!

hey y'all sorry for how late i'm posting this 😭😭 i didn't think id be so tired but going to school and then all of that traveling to and from the show last night wore me outtt (slept until almost noon oopsies). i really wanted to post this right after the show when everything was all fresh in my mind but i just could not muster up the energy. that being said if you send any asks about certain things it'll probably revive my memory a little bit so i can give more details about it

anywho here it goes!!

Act 1

have to start off by saying this was suchhh a surreal moment when i sat down in the theater for the first time since ive been obsessed with the outsiders for years and years

one general thing that i will say is that for some reason i expected the stage to be like huge but when i saw how much smaller it was than i imagined it actually made me feel so much closer to the actors and more in the moment which i ended up loving!!!

another general note THERE WAS SO MUCH SPITTING IT CAUGHT ME SO OFF GUARD

when i opened the pamphlet and saw that the only understudy was andre in place of renni for steve and i knew for certain that brody was there,,,,y'all i was freaking out

i was watching the left side of the theater for bordy for like a solid twenty minutes and i almot SCREAMED when i saw him walking down the aisle

the show started almost immediately after that which i didn't expect so it kind of threw me off guard but as soon as it started me and my friend were squeezing ech others hands so hard for like 30 minutes straight (side note my wrist is bruised thats how hard we were doing it)

brodys. vocals. OH MY GOD. i wasnt all that big on brody when i first found out about the musical but m mutuals have in fact swayed me and hearing him live. wow.

him sitting in the audience was so so SO cool

maybe i'm just delusional BUT me and my friend both swore that we saw brent looking right at our section at us during tulsa 67 and my heart started RACING brent i love you

the way the cars come on stage??? is so fucking cool????

did NOT know they dropped his notebook in the water my jaw dropped and the high-pitched ringing when he goes unconscious oh my goddddd

ace's "you wish" while holding her ass was so fucking funny

jason was being so playful with brent!! for the first like ten minutes of the show he was like smacking him with his towel nonstop; also during ggah you could see darry and soda arguing off to the side and darry looked sooo done (i could make a whole post dedicated to brents performance...maybe i will actually) and the way he flipped the bat in his hand was cool as hell; also do one dropped anything during the song!!!

soda and two-bit's little moment during ggah when soda sings "keeping the prettiest one on your arm" had me laughing so hard

runs in the family was so sad :(( but brents vocals were FANTASTIC live. and soda FOLD THE DAMN LAUNDRY!!!! HE GAVE YOU THE LAUNDRY BASKET FOR REASON DONT JUST DROP IT ON THE FLOOR you're making the poor boy upset >:(

jason was being sooo funny when he's on the bed with pony. he kept doing little voices and he was being super sweet too, he was playing with pony's hair and rubbing his shoulders the whole time. "544 FUCKING PAGES?!"

the flashlights in great expectations were such an amazing touch

POOR JOHNNY he looked so scared when his parents were fighting. also i will never shut up about how amazingly they use the sets, keeping the door open with the distant sound of his parents fighting was such a smart move

friday at the drive in was phenomenal live; cherry kept trying to get bob to follow her and he kept pulling away, bob looked so done with it when cherry and chet started dancing, marcia was like alll over tripp on the hood of the car and then chet and (i think?) paul were just laying all cute on the car together; plus THE DANCE BATTLE OH MY GOD???? i cant remember if it was steve or two-bit (my brain wants to say two-bit tho) but one of them started thrusting into the ground and my jaw was on the floor

i could talk to you all night...the vocals...so beyond honored to hear emma and brody get to harmonize like that right in front of me

kwp your acting HOLY HELL!!! he genuinely made me jump when he started yelling at cherry. "is there a problem here, robert?" "EAT SHIT MARCIA!"

"cherry valance" "NO SHIT!!!"

brent's anger during ritfr was sooo beyond palpable, he made me jump when he threw the bills at soda. also jason was so good at looking dejected, picking up everything and putting it back ont he table than trying to hold darry back from pony

far away from tulsa made me cry for the first time during the show!!

THE CARS AGAIN OH MY GOD!!! and the drowning scene?? the sound of pony screaming under the water??? the lights going out as bob dies and flashing before it cuts to him bloody in the fountain???? beyond phenomenal

run run brother you will always be famous to me. the boards acting as trains??? oh my god

Act 2

jft was one of the songs i was most excited to see live and it was BRILLIANT i loved the flashlights. also marcia holding back from cherry...oughhhh my heart. TWO-BITS SCREAM BROKE MY HEARTTT. and emma's opt-up!!! beautiful

general note since i don't know where to add this DAN BERRY I LOVE YOU!!!

death's at my door had me SOBBING

once again brent's anger in his fight with dally was amazing, and then the direct lead in into titt oughhhh

titt also had me sobbing by the end oh my god

the poem scene was beautiful, i was taken back to being ten years old and rewinding that scene of the movie a million times and to see it live in front of me? an honor

"ITS GOLD LOCKS AND HER UGLY SISTER!" dally was hilarious this whole scene

soda's letter...brent finishing the last line...just kill me why don't you

dally was IN johnny's face during their argument he was sooo angry i was not expecting that

when i saw pony throw the cigarette i was just kind of like "oh he threw the cigarette" and then a few seconds later i was like WAIT WAIT NOOO

THE FIREEEEEE. IT WAS SO SO SO SO SO SO SO COOL OH MY GODDDDDDD

hoods turned heros vocals were AMAZING. also darry looked so happy and proud of pony and it made me all teary

hey so. so who was going to tell me that dally carries in johnny's body like that. also he was right, johnny looked so small :(

hopeless war was DEVASTATING. that's the end.

i will forever love the lead in to trouble, the song is short but so underrated. "once a greaser always a greaser" darry marry me now

loved watching kwp and sky sneak onto the stage during the rumble

SPEAKING OF THE RUMBLE. THE FUCKING RUMBLE???? I WILL N E V E R SEE SOMETHING AS COOL AS THAT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME EVER AGAIN. THE LIGHTING?? THE RAIN?? THE SOUNDS??? THEIR FACES BEING TERRIFIED COVERED IN BLOOD??? PONY ALMOST HITTING JOHNNY THEN STOPPING????? KILL ME NOW OH MY GOD

"pony...pony...come closer" y'all i am not exaggerating that when he's in the bed, johnny sounds like a scared little boy it broke my heart. also soda calling johnny buddy hurttt me :(

when johnny died my fucking heart BROKE. ace was in the background clutching her hair and full on SOBBING. pony on the ground??? and i saw other people say that jason goes to hold pony but at least for this show he liked sat behind pony and pulled in down so that they were both like laying on the ground with pony on top of him. pony pulling away too......:(

joshua boone the fucking MAN THAT YOU ARE. little brother only made me keep crying twice as hard as before. and guys. GUYS. JOSHUA BOONE, A FULL GROWN MAN, WAS SOBBING LIKE A LITTLE BOY THE WHOLE SOG. WHENEVER HE WASN'T SINGING YOU COULD HEAR HIM AUDIBLY SOB AND HIS WHOLE FACE CRUMBLED. HE CAME AND STOOF IN FRONT OF MY AREA DURING THE BREAK IN THE SONG AND JUST CURLED IN ON HIMSELF AND STARTED SOBBING. MY HEART.

his death scene....when pony starts talking about his death and he stands in the lights of the train, pony isn't talking super loud and you could hear josh whimper and his face crumble again and he just kept doing it over and over again like he was STILL crying from the song while he was dying

the dinner scene hurt like a BITCH. one of my favorite moments int he whole show was when brent walked over to the tv to shut it off and the whole stage was just silent. it really amplified the tension

pony beating on darry's chest :( and then brent was crying so fucking hard and then JASON was crying so fucking hard. and then cherry walking in and them both tryign to act normal. speaking of cherry the voice she uses to talk to pony HURT. ME. WHEN SHE'S ABOUT TO LEAVE AND HE DOESN'T ANSWER AND SHE JUST GOES "okay." I WAS CRYINGGGG. and then another fav moment was when she leaves and her, darry and soda all say bye, they were all so quiet about it and it felt so natural

PONY. CLUTCHING THE CLOTHES. BURYING HIS FACE IN THEM??? SODA STARTING TO READ THE LETTER TO PONY???????????

stay gold. i have no words. it was fucking beautiful and i sobbed like a baby.

also like i said i could make a wholeee post just on brent, but i need to say this now. BRENT. WAS SITTING AT THAT TABLE FOR A SOLID LIKE TEN MINUTES. JUST SOBBING. he kept looking like he was trying to compose himself like sucking in big breaths, but then his lip would quiver and his face would just crumble and the tear would start up again and and AUGHHHHHHHH it hurt so so so bad

pony saying his writing probably wasn't any good. "can I read it?" DARREL CURTIS YOU ARE BREAKING MY HEART!! and also soda's "am i in it :)?" and when pony says darry's in it too and darry goes "oh great." the whole crowd was laughing and then him telling pony to make sure he has great hair in the book so so funny

not enough people laughed at the green beans scene and it made me sad >:(

when pony looks at johnny during the finale...and then johnny looks at dally and they smile at each other....ohhhh my god

also when pony started singing about dally it broke my heart ESPECIALLY since i didn't know dally sings that part too

side note when it was a little ways into the finale song and darry and soda are still eating at the table, brent winked at jason and when jason turned i could see im smiling a little bit. i think it was brent's way of checking in wih jason and making sure he was okay, it was super cute tho

overall the finale song was fantasticccc

Stagedoor!!

andre came out first, he was super super sweet!!

then victor came out, he was also awesome!!!

y'all....when rj walked out i almost SCREAMED. he's the only one that i got a good pic with (its fine tho cuz my friend got pics of everyone else) but when he was signing my book he went "what's uppppp :)" and i was ready to fucking EXPLODE my heart was racing. and then my friend's mom manage to get a pic of him smiling at me with this big ass grin and i'm not even goign to lie i keep going back and looking at the picture every few hours my heart is full omg

next up was kwp and let me tell you guys...if i was fangirling over rj i dont even know what to say about me with kwp i was on another LEVEL. he is very very pretty and his voice is insanely charming when he's talking and he looked me in my eyes and i just.....yeah i'll never be normal about this

last up was josh boone and i was also geeking out so hard. he was like "what's going on :)?" and he was super nice, he made sure to get a pic with me after signing everyone's stuff around me and reassured me that he didn't forget about me like halfway through the signings he was just super super nice

okay guys this post is LONGGG but i had sooo much to say (and i still have more to say sooo...spam the inbox if you want more details bc i am MORE than happy to yap about it!!) overall i just feel so beyond honored to watch this happen live in front of me after spending years and years of my life in love with the outsiders. me and my friend are trying to go back soon and sit front row :)

[another-fanfic-haven]

Stress

so, uhhh. comfort post. i'm extremely uncomfortable since yes. Word count: 1209 Song? If anyone's interested: Nikitata - Paranoia

What a terrible luck you must have. You thought your life was getting back on track after you took the chance and moved out of your parents' homestead, diving head-first into the unknown.

And now, all your choices come to bite back, reminding you of all the unresolved issues you carry.

You thought you had your life figured out and your career path chosen. Now, doubt is clouding your conscience. Was that the right path? Why does it feel so wrong? That's what I wanted to do, for Christ's sake!

But you feel... trapped. Trapped in a career with no sight of going anywhere higher, trapped in a crappy, tiny apartment, not to mention - shared with a person you know nothing but their name.

But you can't return either. Your pride isn't letting you. To come back, would mean to admit a defeat, hanging a white flag, and proving everyone around you right; You aren't as good as you made yourself seem.

You sat in front of your computer, staring blankly at the blinking cursor in an open document - a report waiting for you to finish it, your hands clawing into your arms with bruising strength, clinging onto any sensory stimuli - even pain. God, it is horrible, isn't it? You feel like you're fading in and out of existence, your heart beating rapidly, indicating another wave of that dreaded feeling - the feeling of uncertainty, surreality. Nothing feels real - YOU don't feel real. Closing your eyes and breathing isn't helping you much either - and if anything - it makes the sensation worse, plaguing your vision with terrifying figures and flashbacks to the gruesome crime scene photographs. The sounds around you disappear, replaced by deafening screech in your ears.

Oh gods another wave.

And now you feel like the whole universe is judging you, staring straight through the persona you've maintained so well for so long - you're not as strong as you made yourself seem.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice rang through the booming sound in your head, paired with a warm sensation on your shoulder. Someone noticed your struggle, fantastic as if this day couldn't get any worse! The hand pulled on your shoulder, turning the chair - and you on it - away from the screen. You couldn't look up, frozen in this hunched position. All you could see were the deep blue button-up shirt, neatly tucked into the combat pants.

The person sighed, either in pity or worry. Or both.

"You're taking a break, rookie." The person stated, pulling you gently up from the chair and wrapping one arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to their body. "Redfield! Be useful for once and make some tea for them. Chamomile if there's any left."

Your conscience came back - at least for a moment. You looked up sheepishly, squinting your eyes against the bright light. Albert glanced down at you, giving you a soft nod and nudging you to come with him. Not like you had any choice - he held you close and tight to his side. He was gentle with you, leading you into his office, making you sit on the soft, leather chair - the same one you sat all these months ago during your interview. Except now you were a trembling, anxious mess, digging your nails so deep into your arms that they left crescent-shaped scars.

His hands gently pulled your hands away from further hurting yourself, holding each of your palms in his. He kneeled in front, looking into your eyes - or trying to, you're staring blankly into your hands - now held by Albert. His thumbs traced across your knuckles, gently pressing on them, giving you the comfort you clearly need.

"Wait here." He stood up, placing your hands on your knees. The warm, comforting sensation left as he made his way across his office, and before you knew it, your body felt enveloped in something - heavy and soft - his officer jacket. The weight feels like a balm for your sore body, cocooning and grounding.

Gods, not again. You're on the verge of tears. And for what reason? Hell, if you knew. You close your eyes shut, praying silently, trying and hoping that this burning sensation in your throat and tears threatening to spill from under your eyelids will dissipate.

His hands returned to yours the moment the first tear rolled down your cheek. His touch was... oddly gentle. You've never expected this cold captain to have such warm, tender hands.

"Hey. Calm down." He whispered, looking at you. His expression was... sympathetic. If you can call the usual deadpan face with an almost clinical gaze disguised by worry gentle in any way, that is.

"Tell me what you see. Look around, describe it." He nudged your hands, pressing onto every finger. You nodded, lifting your head and looking around. Your head feels so wrong, empty and busy, thoughts running through like on a highway, yet you can't find the right words.

"I- I see..." You stuttered, battling the sensation that you were about to break apart. You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts one more time - at least attempting to. "I see... bookshelves. Your computer. Some binders... The S.T.A.R.S. banner? Or is it a poster?" You focused your eyes on the decoration behind his chair - the same insignia you and he display so proudly on your shoulders.

"It's a banner, good observation." He nodded, moving his hands to your wrists, massaging the inner parts with his thumb. "What else do you see."

You swallowed the tears, giving the room one more look. You shuddered a shaky breath, the tension in your body leaving with each breath you took, growing steadier, calmer.

"I see... a desk lamp, with a cord hanging from it. And the desk, it's dark and looks heavy. I see... metal blinds on the window. And a coat hanger by the door."

And as if on command, Chris barged in with a large mug in his hands.

"Sorry Wesker, had to convince Becca to use her tea col-" He called, his voice cutting halfway through once he saw you - hunched over and Wesker's hands resting on yours. "Shit should've knocked..." He added.

"You should've," Albert commented. His demeanor immediately seemed to change from caring to cold and bossy in an instant. How does he do that? "Put the tea on the desk and leave."

Chris did as ordered, trying to not overstep his welcome. He hurried, giving you one sidelong glance - looks like he's worried, too. The doors closed behind him as he left, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Albert stood up, leaving your hands alone - after they trailed behind his, longing for more of the contact. Nothing good lasts forever, after all.

"Drink this. It should make you feel better. And you're taking the rest of the day off. No whining, no "buts" you're in no shape to work." He handed you the mug, placing it in your hands and guiding them into the handle.

"Now, do you have someone to check on you later?" He asked, leaning on his desk and crossing his arms on his chest.

[cyber-dump-171]

Chapter 3: Insomnia

Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

← Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Chapter 4 →

Word count: 5.3 k.

WARNING: N/A

Note: apologies that this took so long to upload! Thank you for the likes, reblogs, and comments! This chapter is based on chapter 2 of the manga “Disney Twisted Wonderland - Episode of Heartslaby

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The walk towards the vacant dorm is rather quiet, save for the few times you hear Yuuken’s equipment shifting inside his gym bag and Fígaro asking some questions to the crow man, whom you know learned his name is Dire Crowley. You, on the other hand, take some time to cool down, to shut your brain down from the constant downpour of negative and detrimental thoughts, and instead, focus your attention on the fantastical environment.

Night Raven College feels like it came straight out of one of the young adult novels you read. You can even imagine the story of the young protagonist facing challenges, and fighting against monsters and enemies while keeping their school life afloat. A cheesy novel, but damn, you're a sucker for those stories.

A cobblestone path leads the way, moss and dirt seeping into the cracks, countless orange, red, and yellow leaves fall from Hawthorn and Maple trees planted at the border of the path and as the cold wind passes by the branches, they bump into each other and create a lulling melody. The courtyard is empty, save for a few students in robes running toward their dorms or faculty members returning to the gigantic castle, carrying stacks of documents and portfolios. 

The atmosphere is calm, it’s such a whiplash from the tumultuous event you experienced mere minutes ago. Everything feels completely surreal, it’s as if you just became hyper-aware of your surroundings and everything that your body is experiencing. It feels strange to walk, to think, even to breathe. So much for quieting your thoughts.

Your hand automatically wanders towards your pants' back pocket, seeking the comfort of your technological device. Your feet move forward without much thought, your attention shifting to mildly paying attention to the three men in front of you as your right thumb presses rather harshly on the power button, your lock screen flashing brightly and creating a small source light on this chilly night.

The hour and date on your phone are frozen, it doesn’t move a second forward or backward, on the top right corner a large “X” sits on top of the empty gray reception bars right next to the battery that showcases it only has 89% left. What brings you comfort is the photograph that sits behind your notifications of unread messages and social media updates. It was from a recent three-day school trip to Katsurahama a few days before finals, when your friend and desk neighbor, Momoko Umemoto, dragged you to see the recently inaugurated jellyfish display inside Katsurahama Aquarium.

"Momo, they're not going to run away or disappear, you know?" you laugh at your friend's palpable excitement as she tries to weave you and herself through the crowd of students from your school. 

Her freshly manicured hands gently but firmly grasp your right hand as she drags you towards the aquarium, though she paused momentarily at your comment, her blue eyes swiveling to look at you, a pout forming on her glossy lips. "Shush! I want a good picture before we can't reach the glass!"

You highly doubt that your classmates are as excited to see the fish as you are, as you study their bored and sleepy faces. Most of them have already left for the beach, floaties and coolers in hand, while others have found their seats in the restaurants near the shore after the teachers gave orders to stay in the area and promptly dismissed everyone, the elders walking towards the open bar.

In reality, you know that the gyaru is excited to see for the first time in person the cnidarian creatures that you have seen in books since you were both little. You can't blame her, sea creatures are fascinating and the excitement is eating away at your stomach to see what other unique species are in the aquarium.

You mumble a few excuses as you bump into a guy who's too engrossed in his phone to move out of the way, while Momoko pulls you towards the building, entering the large glass doors and you sigh as the air conditioning inside kisses your warm skin. At a fast pace, the two of you don't stop to admire the other fish as you navigate the winding corridors of the building, you'll do that later.

Finally, as if connected, your eyes find a standing sign, blue and teal construction paper letters spelling out "Jellyfish Exhibit →" accompanied by an adorable paper handmade crystal jelly. In a matter of seconds, your walk turns into a full sprint as you both giggle loudly, interlacing your fingers, excitement bubbles inside you as the room with various glass cases and blue lights comes into view.

You feel like a little kid again. How long has it been since you felt like this? Carefree and excited? It's been so long that even as a child, weighed down by responsibilities and forced independence, that feeling of pure happiness was absent. You can only count with a single hand the fleeting moments that recreate that warm feeling you're feeling right now.

The two of you come to a stop, hands still clasped together, taking in your surroundings. Black sea nettle, lion's mane, blue blubber, Japanese sea nettle, and Mediterranean jellies move in a hypnotic dance in the various glass cases. Their long limbs stretch as far as they can reach and their heads, also known as bells, bob and stretch in different directions, dictating their path.

But what catches your eye is the small glass case of moon jellies. They're ethereal, their translucent, milky-white bells a clear reminder of Earth's only natural satellite, the one that comforts you on lonely nights as you gaze at the starry sky. Momoko lets go of your hand as she pulls out her cell phone to take a few pictures; you copy the same action but focus on the small creatures in front of you.

Minutes pass as the two of you bask in the calm atmosphere of the room, you and Momoko now stand side by side, watching the jellyfish in their natural state. Outside you hear the muffled conversations of passersby and the heavy footsteps of children running through the aquarium.

Suddenly, Momoko’s arm shoots up from her side and quickly grabs your shoulder opposite to her, pulling your body as you place your hand on the middle of her back. You bump your head against hers, smelling the cardamom and vanilla perfume she sprayed on during the bus ride to the beach and you find your eyes reflected on her phone screen as she gives the camera a wide smile. “Say cheese, (Y/N)!”—

Immersed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the trio has stopped in front of a pair of worn gates until you end up crashing into a certain blonde man's back, your phone being crushed against your chest. "Daydreaming, dear (Y/N)?" in a melodic yet teasing tone, Fígaro chuckles as he looks at you over his shoulder. His icy blue eyes stare intently at you and it makes you feel miniscule, as if you were being examined under a microscope.

This man is starting to unnerve you. During the long walk to the dormitory, you noticed several times out of your peripheral vision that Fígaro's icy blue eyes were like pinballs, his gaze drifting from you to Yuuken to the path ahead before repeating the same pattern after a few minutes. He only stopped watching you when Crowley piped up with a question or when Fígaro became curious about something.

You think that maybe he's being cautious around you, examining you and the kendo student to get a good idea of how you behave. But a small thought inside your brain tells you that it's something else because he doesn't seem to be on guard when he's around you, or even to hide his expression like he did when you told him about the missing people.

"Shit, sorry," out of embarrassment and flustered by the way he addressed you, a red blush spreads across your cheeks and you quickly put your phone back in your pocket, skidding away from the man. On the contrary, Fígaro relishes in your sudden awkwardness, wanting to tease you further to get more out of you but his bones are still aching from the fall and he’s in desperate need of a bath. He’ll save it for later.

Instead, he simply chuckles once more before gently poking your forehead with his index finger. “Come now! Just a bit more and you can dream as much as you want,” with that, he turns on his heel before walking towards Crowley, who fiddles with an antique keyring while murmuring under his breath.

“Well, we’re here! What do you think?” the crow man announces before returning to the task at hand. Your eyes scan the gothic building before you, the various cobwebs covering the fence and the dead flora around it adding to the charm and atmosphere of this being a haunted house. However, fear creeps in as you notice the rotting wooden boards covering the dirty windows and the large doors barely holding on to their hinges.

And suddenly, your curiosity about the previous inhabitants of this place vanishes as a thought dawns on you. You’re going to have to sleep in there. Look, you’re more than grateful for this opportunity; the fact that you get to sleep somewhere in exchange for work after being transported to an unknown world with magical beings is nothing short of a miracle. 

But the problem isn't that you're picky or ungrateful... It's the health hazards that lurk inside this house that frighten you the most.

Black mold and mildew, stagnant water, rodents, bugs like spiders, cockroaches, and ticks (your worst nightmare), collapsing walls and roofs, rusty metal, and even asbestos, since from the looks of it, the dorm is pretty old, could potentially lurk inside. Is asbestos even a thing in this world? Suddenly you're wondering when you last had a tetanus shot and if you still have your KN95 mask in your bag.

“It’s a very charming building,” Yuuken suddenly announces beside you, his very flat expression and neutral tone not sounding convincing at all. Yet, Crowley turns around delighted with a closed-eyed smile and you swear he even puffs out his chest proudly. 'He's not beating the bird allegations any time soon.’ 

The worn metal gate creaks loudly as it swings open, one of the doors nearly falling to the ground, but the crow man simply walks forward, his walking cane sweeping the dead leaves from the path. "Right? It is quite a beauty! Well children, let’s head inside."

Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. So you might as well just suck it up and try to find a way to fix this health hazard and building code violation before it collapses on you. You reluctantly follow the three men in front of you as you head towards the house.

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The inside is just as you expected. Dim hallways illuminated by the night sky are decorated with dusty or broken furniture, the wallpaper has started to peel off the wall due to the humidity, cobwebs tucked away in the corners of the walls sway gently with the wind and the air feels heavy. The four of you make your way deeper into the dorm, with the crow man leading the way.

“It’s a little broken down, but it can probably withstand the rain and wind,” as soon as Crowley finishes his sentences, Fígaro, who quietly walked beside you admiring a painting caked in dust, lets out a shriek followed by a loud cracking sound that startles you. His decorated hands shoot from his sides and quickly find your arm, gripping your shirt in need of support.

You automatically hold on to his left arm and torso, as you look down towards the sound:  part of the floor has caved in and his foot is now stuck between some floorboards. In a panic, Fígaro begins to harshly pull out his leg, attempting to free it, though you quickly stop him as the sound of his — very expensive — pants begin to rip, the fabric caught in between some splinters. 

“Calm down, breathe in and out. If you move like that you’ll just hurt your ankle further. Here, hold onto my shoulders,” not awaiting his response, you gently let go of his limbs and kneel on the floor, your hands gently grasping his leg to get a better look as to what got caught. A few seconds later, a warm pressure settles near the juncture between your neck and shoulder, as your nimble fingers slip out the fabric threads from some wood pieces.

In a matter of seconds, you’re able to free his foot from the confines of the floor, and you hear the blond above you breathe a sigh of relief. However, a small gasp slips past Fígaro’s lips as you slide up his pant leg to inspect the damage. “Don't worry, nothing’s bleeding or scratched. Can you move your ankle?” your lukewarm fingers softly trace the red mark left by the splinters and you don’t miss the way Fígaro shudders in response. ‘Heh, I’ll take it as payback from earlier’.

Feeling a sudden heat pool in the apple of his cheeks, the blonde turns his head to face the opposite direction, shielding his embarrassed look from the curious gaze of Crowley and Yuuken. Clearing his throat, Fígaro swivels his ankle from side to side, feeling no discomfort other than a slight burning sensation left by the mark, as he places his foot back on the ground. 

“T-Thank you kindly, (Y/N),” he stammers out as you pat his leg in response before standing up and once again facing the other two men, your expression neutral as if nothing happened. “Ah… do be careful… Anyways! Regarding your souls having been summoned here, we are also partially responsible. After all, the carriage brought you here,” Crowley taps his cane on the dilapidated floor before you and Fígaro approach him. 

“As such, while we figure a way to return you to your world, you’re more than free to stay in this place. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, you’ll work around campus to be able to pay for food and clothing,” you nod at his statement, eyes droopy as the events of the day come crashing down on you like a cold wave of water. Yuuken, on the other hand, smiles brightly at the crow man's words, sticking his legs together and slightly bowing his head down with a straight back.

“Thank you very much! We appreciate it!” as the kendo student's eager reply echoes through the empty halls of the abandoned house, another sound catches your attention. A creaking noise, followed by the echoes of glass softly clanging against each other. At first, you dismiss it as the wind moving loose debris or the house settling. But as the sound grows louder and more constant, your head swivels toward the source and your stomach drops:

A dusty metal chandelier with misty glass bulbs, eerily similar to the one in the entrance hall, hangs from the ceiling by a single rusty screw that is slowly being loosened by an unknown force.

“WATCH OUT!” your sudden scream immediately alerts Fígaro, who swiftly jumps out of the way, his nimble movements reminding you of a cat. Yuuken also turns to look at the ceiling, his eyes widen in shock as his hands quickly grab your shoulders and in a matter of seconds, the black-haired boy maneuvers both of your bodies out of the way of the chandelier that, in a matter of milliseconds, falls to the ground with a loud bang. 

Small pieces of glass fly everywhere, though thankfully none of them hit or scratch you, instead they land in front of your feet. The impact of the metal leaves a huge hole in the middle of the foyer and raises large amounts of dust, which sneaks into your mouth and nose, causing the three of you to cough and sneeze, flapping your hands in the air to push away the huge gray cloud.

You try to control your heart, which is beating frantically, your brain is still processing the fact that you almost died from being crushed by a chandelier and the sound of the metal tearing off the roof is still echoing in your ears. Trying to control your breathing, you turn to look at Yuuken, whose face has turned pale with fear, although he maintains a neutral expression.

"HEE HEE HEE! What a shame... it missed~," an unknown voice laments in a mocking tone as the now destroyed chandelier shakes violently. As if a switch suddenly turns on inside his head, Yuuken's brow furrows as he almost rips off the cover of his kendo swords and pushes you behind his back, causing you to gasp in surprise. "Who's there!?" he bellows, tightening his grip on the wooden sword and pointing it at the chandelier.

You didn’t even see it shoot up from the floor, too distracted as your eyes flitted around the room searching for the source of the voice, instead, you felt it. A white misty figure suddenly phases through you, your stomach twisting into cold knots and you feel nauseous as the creature laughs mischievously at your expression. “Welcome to our castle~.”

Your heartbeat picks up again as Yuuken steps away from you, watching in horror as the ghost that's still halfway through your torso flashes him a wink and tips his hat. His attention is torn away from you as another transparent figure phases out of a nearby painting and starts a game of tug-of-war, trying to steal the black-haired man's sword. He’s momentarily shocked at the amount of force this misty being has.

On the other side of the room, Fígaro swats away at a thin, tall ghost that messes with his hair, anger coloring the blonde’s face as the cold figure harshly pulls at his locks while laughing maniacally. “Paskiainen! Crowley, some help over here would be nice!” he shrieks in pure rage, blue eyes glaring holes at the bird man who has not moved an inch and simply watches the chaos unfold in front of him.

“Ah, I forgot to tell you. Some mischievous ghosts took up home here,” Crowley states in a blasé tone and your fingers suddenly ache as a strong urge to strangle the crow man overcomes. But, on second thought, better to not murder him, because if ghosts are real in this world there’s no way in hell that you’d want his annoying ass haunting you for the rest of your stay here.

The ghost continues its incessant giggles, as they fly towards the ceiling and slowly spin in circles, Fígaro taking their distraction as a chance to bolt towards where you and Yuuken stand, with shell-shocked expressions. The blonde man grabs your arm in a rather harsh manner, as he pulls the black haired man to stand in front of you two, acting as a human shield. “It’s been a while since we had any visitors! Please, make yourself at home!”

“Oh, I know! I know!” one of the misty creatures pipes out, the smaller one out of the three. The ghosts exchange various knowing looks for a few seconds, before their expression turns psychotic, with owlish eyes and wide grins staring directly at you, sending shivers down your spine. “Why don’t they become ghosts? We’ve been looking for new friends, after all!”

The three figures dash at you, pushing their faces together as they bounce with maniacal excitement, their faces almost merging into each other from how close they are, creating a Lovecraftian visual nightmare. You feel Fígaro squeeze your arm even tighter and watch in horror as Yuuken’s hand goes limp, his wooden sword clanging loudly as it falls on the floor. 

“The afterlife is a real blast! There’s no death or suffering! Join us! HEE HEE HEE!”

What!? Fuck these guys! Angry that these ghosts think they can rob you of what little life you have left (you know that today's chaos has probably shaved a few years off your lifespan, but damn it, you still have a bucket list to complete), you duck down, almost dragging Fígaro down with you as you grab the wooden sword.

Just as you're about to push Yuuken out of the way and beat the living hell out of these creatures, a laugh from the black-haired man interrupts you. “This is awesome! So ghosts are real in this world!” filled with glee, the Kendo student approaches the three misty creatures who quickly back away in confusion, murmuring to each other about the bizarre reaction.

Meanwhile, you feel your jaw drop to the floor as the man's words slowly work their way through your brain. You are amazed at his childish reaction, doesn't he remember that just seconds ago these beings tried to murder you by dropping a full-size chandelier on you!? Or that they toyed with your bodies, encouraging you to give in to the sweet release of death?

You think for a second that maybe being in this world for too long has made him go mad. “I have to decline your offer to become a ghost, but I hope we can get along as roommates!” his cheerfulness is not contagious, as the ghosts stare at him in bewilderment, fiddling with their fingers and lowering their heads almost bashfully. It's this reaction that reminds you of the person standing in front of you.

Kotohira is a small place, so that meant word got around quickly, and when the Enma’s moved into the apartment above you, they were the talk of the town for a good while. Especially Yuuken. His intimidating and burly appearance was a huge contrast to his sweet and charismatic nature, and your neighbors were constantly cooing about how helpful and determined he was.

But you never really got to know him, you didn't bother, even after your parents encouraged you to. It wasn't that you found him irritating, it's just that you were so busy keeping your house afloat, working a part-time job, and studying to maintain your scholarship that you barely bothered to pursue friendships or interpersonal relationships.

Your group of friends was small, and you were happy with that. So to you, Yuuken Enma was the rather intimidating big dude who took the same bus you did to get to school. He got off first and you two stops later. He knew your name not out of curiosity, but by circumstance. You were neighbors and that was that.

So, to see him in this light, to hear once more the way Chiaki, the elder housewife that lived next to you, spoke about how Yuuken was so adorable and charming is completely… astounding. So much so that you don't even notice when a breathless and incredulous "What?" comes out of your mouth. At your question, Yuuken turns around with a broad grin and points at the ghosts.

“Right!? It’s my first time seeing one… I wonder what other cool things are in this world!” he quietly laughs. For the first time since getting here, you can’t find a response in you and you wonder why this side of him leaves you speechless. 

The phantoms continue to mumble and slowly float away to huddle in a corner of the foyer as Crowley clears his throat to get your attention. “This is quite impressive. Many students tend to steer clear from this place due to the ghosts, but, seeing your reaction, you’ll do just fine!” he laughs merrily before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

“Tomorrow, I’ll come by early and give you your respective jobs. In the meantime, feel free to use the library to gather more information on how to return to your world! I am so gracious!” you quietly scoff as he auto-compliments himself; you have a hunch that his rather eccentric attitude will cause you headaches in the future.

Crowley starts to walk but stops a few steps later, snapping his fingers as if he just remembered something. “Goodness me! Where are my manners? I forgot to ask you your names!” he turns around, his beady golden eyes peeking out from behind his crow mask as he looks at you expectantly.

“I’m Yuuken Enma.”

“(Y/N) Pembroke, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Fígaro Koskela, at your service.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Fucking chronic insomnia.

You’ve been tossing and turning around the hard mattress for about an hour now, the exhaustion and sleepiness from the day suddenly disappear as soon as your head hits the old pillow you found hidden inside one of the hallway’s closets. You quick off the comforter, groaning in frustration as you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling.

Not long after the obnoxious bird man left the building, the three of you got to work cleaning the house, or at least the rooms you wanted to use in the meantime. You were able to locate three bedrooms and two bathrooms that were in a decent state, so you got to sweeping and dusting various pieces of furniture, and placing those that were beyond saving in a neat pile in the backyard, hoping to dismantle them for materials in the near future.

Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that you can't use the water system in the dormitory at the moment. It all started when Fígaro decided to test the sink by opening the valves, which caused a terrible sound to pass through the pipes as brown, almost black, water came out of the faucet. It was accompanied by a foul smell that made the three of you almost vomit as you ran from the bathroom.

The next problem was the lack of food. The communal kitchen was a complete mess, with the stove missing several burners, the door of the refrigerator falling off as soon as Yuuken opened it, and several cupboards missing drawers or falling right off the wall. Everything was empty, ransacked by unknown persons, not even a grain of salt left. There was no way to reach Crowley to beg for food, and the cafeteria was closed at this hour.

Tired, dirty, and hungry, the three of you decided it was best to go to bed. And so now, an hour later, you found yourself wishing you could have foreseen the future and packed your melatonin, temazepam, or something strong enough to knock you out and get you through the night. 

An angry sigh leaves your lips as you sit up, your nails raking through your head as you look out the dirty window, the branch of a dead tree tapping gently against it as it swings in the wind. You might as well take advantage of Crowley's "generosity" and check out the library, maybe reading will make you sleepy.

Your padded feet tap lightly on the wooden floor as you make your way to a chair in the corner of the room, where your boots and bag sit. After stumbling a bit, you successfully slip your shoes on and sling your back over your torso, quietly exiting the dilapidated dormitory and making your way to the massive castle that looms in the distance.

After about fifteen minutes of walking in silence and climbing who knows how many stairs, the night air kisses your warm skin and the moon illuminates the large doors of the school that are open. You enter the building and find that a few meters from the entrance, illuminated by green lights, is a map of the entire layout of the building. ‘Nifty.’

However, when your eyes examine the sheer size of this one castle, you can't help but cover your mouth in shock. There are six levels in total, with the first floor mostly containing important rooms like the cafeteria, the infirmary, the library (which occupies at least four levels of the building), and a bizarre room called the "Hall of Mirrors". The second floor and up is where the fun starts, as not only the classrooms and club rooms are on these levels, but also various laboratories.

Your eyes scan the words: Alchemy, General Computer Lab, Robotics, Biology, Physics, Botany, Home Economics, Astrology, Art Studio, and even an Enchantment Room. The list goes on and you can’t help but quietly geek out. If you ever get the chance, you won't hesitate to check these places out. For now, though, your best bet is to check out the first floor of the library.

Fixing the shoulder strap of your bag, you make your way down the corridor and take a sharp turn to the right, your eyes studying the portraits of fantastical landscapes and famous historical figures unknown to you. You also pay close attention to some of their features: animal ears, tails, fangs, horns, colorful hair, and intriguing eyes. It is like something you would read in a fantasy book.

But your admiration is interrupted as you pass the infirmary, a loud crash followed by a series of muffled curses stops you dead in your tracks as you turn to face the door. You're about to head toward, worried about someone getting hurt when a loud ringing in your ears forces you to close your eyes and nearly sends you to the floor in pain.

(̶̺͂Y̸̧̅/̷̨̊n̸̼͒)̸̨̀,̷̖̌ ̵̼͘ǹ̶ͅô̶͍w̶̮̔ ̶̹͗ȋ̷͖t̶͔̄'̴̥͆ș̸̑ ̴͖͂n̶̻̾ó̸̩t̴͊͜ ̷͖̈́t̴̜̚ḧ̷͇́e̵̹͠ ̵̬͐t̴̮͂i̶͎̊m̶͛ͅe̵̲͆ ̸͔̊t̵̠̾o̸̅ͅ ̵̳̉p̸̫̓l̴̻͐a̸̭̐y̸̩̎ ̶̪͗h̵̼̓e̵͎̊r̶͚̓o̵̩̅.̵̘́.̷̞́.̷̧̓ ̴̣͐h̷͎̾i̶͜͠d̸̫̂e̸̗̍.̵̢̐.̴̯͋.̷̻͐

Something tells you to hide, and you don't hesitate to run behind a nearby pillar, your eyes carefully peeking out from behind the structure to look at where the sound came from. 

Look, you should be scared by the sudden voice in your head, but at this point, you've read enough horror stories and played enough games to know that when something tells you to hide, you hide. Besides, after today's fiasco with the weird mirror talking inside your head, you should start to get used to these things.

Although, the voice does sound kind of different from the one you’ve heard before.

You can't linger in your thoughts much longer when the door to the infirmary bursts open and a figure steps out of the darkness, wearing one of the black and purple robes the students used during the entrance ceremony. In his left hand, the figure tightly clutches a syringe, a strange dark liquid moving inside. The hallway is eerily quiet, so you can hear their accelerated breathing as they look around paranoidly.

The figure is trembling, lips quivering as if about to burst into tears. Their behavior is incredibly suspicious, and your stomach twists in worry as you wonder what is in the syringe they are carrying, so you start to mentally note down some details about the person. 

In the dim light, you notice that the figure is a man, judging by the Adam's apple that bobs up and down his throat as he swallows, he has pale skin, a few tufts of either black, dark purple or blue hair peeking out from under the hood, and his eyes are either green or brown, though you can't see them well because of the distance, but you do notice that his gaze is soft. He looks docile, almost weak.

He whimpers in fear, biting the tip of his right thumb as he stares down at the syringe, which almost slips from his grasp due to his nervousness, though he's able to catch it quickly and breathe a sigh of relief. “This... Master will be proud of my work,” he whispers before making up his mind and running in the opposite direction from where you are standing.

Unnerved by his words, you step out from behind the pillar. Your hands nervously fiddle with the strap of your bag as you run for the stairs. Forget the damn library...

You need to tell Crowley what the hell just happened. Something doesn’t feel right.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Tag list:

@rotknox @agaygothicmushroom @sherryclover @mielle-estelar @yuriluvr2000 @Shironakuronatasa @yourlocalhot-simp @stvrbrighttt @tearsofgenshin @mewmew-dream

[latinasforace]

Crimson Petals in the Night ( Giyuu x Blood Hashira F! Reader )

n/a: hiii i’m starting a new series!!! hope you all r interested. This is just the introduction but I will have the first chapter ready by tmr (hopefully…)

:3 enjoy!

reader is female coded!!!! & the blood hashira. Abilities will be explained later on. oh and i’m hsing she/they for reader.

& pls keep in mind, this is taking place 2 YEARS BEFORE CANON EVENTS. so 2 years before tanjiro’s family was attacked & nezuko turned.

INTRO CHAPTER

The moon hung low in the night sky, its silver light spilling over the quiet garden like a gentle kiss from the heavens. The world was draped in a cloak of darkness, with only the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional song of a nightingale breaking the stillness.

The garden, though dirty and wild with untamed plants and broke pottery, abandoned, held a certain charm—a promise of what it could be with tender care, bathed in the soft glow of the full moon, feeling like a hidden relic from a time long forgotten. The silence is almost palpable, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as the night wind weaves through the dense, overgrown foliage.

A small, arched bridge stretches across a narrow stream, its wooden planks creaking faintly under the weight of time and neglect. The water below glistens with a silvery sheen, reflecting the moonlight like scattered pearls on a dark canvas.

At the far end of the garden stands a small shed, its wooden walls weathered and darkened by years of exposure. Vines snake up its sides, clinging to the structure like nature’s determined attempt to reclaim what was once hers.

The shed’s roof, once a testament to craftsmanship, now sags slightly, covered in moss and creeping ivy. It blends seamlessly into the surroundings, as if it has always been a part of the garden’s quiet, melancholic beauty.

The flowers, though still vibrant in their hues, grow haphazardly among thick clusters of weeds and vines. Their petals catch the moonlight, giving the garden an otherworldly, almost surreal quality. It’s a place that feels both real and imagined, where the boundaries between the physical and the fantastical blur.

The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint sweetness of blooming flowers, creating a heady mix that lingers with each breath.

In the heart of this quiet abandoned sanctuary, a young woman knelt, her delicate hands cradling a handful of seeds. Wearing a kimono of the finest silk, with a contrast of deep black, adorned with intricate red flowers that seemed to bloom across the fabric like a garden at midnight. Her hair caught the moon’s light, making her appear ethereal—like a spirit of the night, come to bless the earth with new life.

She pressed the seeds gently into the soil, her touch careful, as if she were whispering secrets to the earth. There was a calmness in her actions, a peace that belied the danger lurking in the shadows beyond the garden’s borders.

But peace was not meant to last.

“Why are you out so late at night?”

The voice was stern, edged with authority, cutting through the tranquility like a blade. The young woman did not startle; instead, she looked up slowly, her eyes meeting those of the man who had spoken. He stood at the edge of the garden, his form partially obscured by the shadows, yet the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable. The man wore the attire of a Demon Slayer, his half patterned haori billowing slightly in the breeze, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

The figure in the kimono tilted their head slightly, a confused expectation reflected on their face. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

His eyes narrowed, clearly unamused by the casual response. “There are demons out at this hour—deadly ones. You’re bound to get eaten, standing here so vulnerable.”

“Is that so?” The figure’s voice was soft, yet there was a teasing edge to it that suggested they found his warning more amusing than frightening. “And here I thought the night was for everyone to enjoy.”

He stepped closer, the moonlight revealing the sharp lines of his face and those b. “This isn’t a game. If you stay, you’ll get yourself killed.”

There was a brief pause, and then the figure let out a soft, almost mocking laugh. “Oh, I see… You’re worried about me.” She leaned forward slightly, the red flowers on her black kimono catching the light as they did. “Do you make a habit of rescuing strangers, or am I just special?”

He didn’t answer right away, taken aback by the unexpected response. There was something unsettling about how calm they were—how unafraid. He had expected fear, or at least concern, but instead, they seemed to be toying with him, as if the danger he spoke of was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“You should leave,” he said, voice hardening as he tried to regain control of the situation. “Now.”

The figure regarded him with a knowing smile, their eyes glinting with something that almost resembled mischief. “Perhaps I will,” she replied, her tone light and unhurried. “Or perhaps I’ll stay a little longer… The night is still young, after all.”

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He was used to dealing with fear, with people who needed protection—but this young lady, with this mysterious aura and defiant calmness, was something else entirely. A puzzle he wasn’t sure how to solve.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the figure alone in the garden. Despite his warning, she felt no fear—only the quiet satisfaction of having stood her ground.

As she continued her work, a faint glint of metal caught the moonlight, hidden among the gardening tools and materials by her side. A closer look would have revealed a deep crimson blade, its hilt wrapped in black and red, with a guard shaped like a blooming rose. But the swordsman, now long gone, hadn’t noticed—his attention too focused on the mystery of the woman herself than to notice the subtle hint of her true identity as a slayer.

She watched him disappear into the shadows, her smile lingering as she resumed their task, planting seeds in the dark earth with the same deliberate care as before.

The night air was cool and still, but the tension left behind from their exchange hung in the air, like the scent of something yet to bloom.

To be continued…