#Social distancing with Animal Crossing!

[rxttenfish]

while aaravi remains firmly within "yeah miranda has a difficult personality and isn't very easy to get along with + has many rough edges which are slowly being worked on but still going to be an issue" after having been very much so within the camp that miranda is a Vexing Bitch upon first contact/getting to know her, she DOES go from "miranda is unpredictable and dangerous as a merfolk and large macropredator and her emotions are inscrutable and random" to "merfolk aren't very hard to understand or predict and it's very easy to stay on the safe side if you keep basic rules in mind and don't freak out the second something unexpected happens"

[chosok-amo]

hey hey!!! I read your social anxiety fic with megumi and just wanted to say first, that it was amazing like actually shit got me tearing up at how sweet it was 😭

And secondly!! Could I maybe request a Megumi x Reader who tends to cling on people she trust's arms alot? But after meeting Megumi she starts to only cling to him. Like full on arm wrapped around his one arm. Sorry if it's too much and have a nice day!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀CLING-CLINK .ᐟ

megumi fushiguro x 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿.

☆ before meeting you, megumi often sees you around school, always clinging into yuuta's arm, even satoru gojo's arm like when a child learns how to cross the street and have to hold into their parents, until he meets you.

fluff, p.s i'm sorry if i don't make your request good enough, but i hope you like it :)

megumi fushiguro stood in the distance, his gaze fixed on a scene unfolding across the school grounds. the golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows, creating an almost surreal backdrop. among the students scattered about, one figure caught his attention. you were walking with satoru gojo, clinging tightly to his arm, your face lit up with a radiant smile. gojo, as always, exuded his usual charm, his blindfold hiding his eyes but not the amusement on his face. the two of you seemed completely absorbed in your conversation, oblivious to the world around you.

megumi squinted, trying to place you. you looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite pinpoint where he'd seen you before. the way you clung to gojo's arm so naturally, so effortlessly, stirred something in him. it wasn't jealousy, exactly, but a mix of curiosity. “who is she?” megumi wandered to himself, watching as you laughed at something gojo said. “and why is she always so close to him?”

he had noticed you a few times before, always attached to someone else's arm— mostly your teacher, satoru gojo and the second year student, yuuta okkotsu, always so animated and lively. it wasn't just gojo; you seemed to have a habit of clinging to people. it puzzled him. was it a sign of affection? a need for reassurance? or just a part of your personality?

megumi wasn't one to judge, but he found it difficult to understand. he preferred his own space, his own quiet corner of the world. the idea of being so physically close to someone, especially in such a public setting, was foreign to him.

as he watched, gojo said something that made you throw your head back in laughter, your grip on his arm tightening momentarily. the sight brought a small, involuntary smile to megumi's face. there was something undeniably endearing about your openness, your willingness to express joy so freely. still, the question lingered in his mind. why did you always cling to people like that? was it a habit, a comfort, or something more?

yet he found himself another encounter of you with his senpai, yuuta okkotsu. that day megumi fushiguro stood in the shadow of a tall tree, his eyes scanning the school grounds as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over everything. his gaze settled on a familiar figure in the distance. you were walking with yuuta okkotsu, your arm firmly looped around his as you strolled together.

yuuta, with his kind and calm demeanor, seemed perfectly at ease with you by his side. he wore his usual gentle smile, listening attentively to whatever you were saying. your animated gestures and bright laughter filled the air, making it clear how much you enjoyed his company.

megumi's brow furrowed slightly as he watched. you, always close to someone, always with that same cheerful energy. it was almost like you thrived on the connection, the physical closeness to others. “why is she always like that?” megumi thought to himself, his mind drifting back to the other times he'd seen you, clinging to one, two, max three people around the school. it wasn't just yuuta—he'd noticed you with others too, always the same, always so tactile and open. he couldn't help but feel a bit perplexed.

as you and yuuta continued to walk, yuuta said something that made you laugh, your grip on his arm tightening slightly, just like how you were with gojo. the sight brought a small, involuntary smile to megumi's face. there was something undeniably endearing about your openness, your willingness to express joy so freely and without reservation.

but the same question remained. why did you always cling to people like that? eas it a habit, a comfort, or something deeper?

“maybe she's just really friendly,” he mused, recalling how at ease you seemed with both gojo and yuuta. “or maybe she needs that kind of connection to feel secure,” he thought about the way you laughed with gojo, how your whole face lit up with genuine happiness. then he remembered how relaxed and content yuuta looked with you by his side, as if your presence was a natural part of his day. it wasn't just that you clung to people; it was the way you seemed to bring out something brighter in them, a lightness that megumi couldn't ignore.

“is she like that with everyone?” he wondered. “or is there something special about gojo and yuuta?” the thought nagged at him. he couldn't quite place why it bothered him so much. was it jealousy? curiosity? or simply a desire to understand something so different from his own nature?

megumi fushiguro sat in the shadows, watching you from afar, his mind swirling with a thousand 'what ifs.' he couldn't understand why such a simple thing—someone clinging to another—bothered him so much. it was common enough, something he saw every day, yet whenever it involved you, it gnawed at him. he wonder and wonder why, how, where, and when about you. it's just a simple thing, everyone clinging to everyone, but why does it bother him that much?

“why does it affect me like this?” he thought, frustration bubbling inside him. “why do i care so much?” it wasn't just about you clinging to others. it was how people reacted around you, how comfortable they became in your presence. they acted as if having you wrapped around them was as natural as breathing, as easy as walking, even though it should have been a hindrance. it baffled him how seamlessly you fit into their lives.

how he feel if he's the one you clinging to?

at one point, the one 'what if' crossing his mind, the thought slipped, unbidden, and since that day, megumi couldn't shake it. the curiosity melted inside him, merging with his blood, becoming a part of him. every time he saw you, the question lingered, refusing to let go.

days turned into weeks, and the thought only grew stronger, until one day, fate gave megumi a chance to get to know you. he approached cautiously, his usual stoic expression hiding the turmoil inside. he found you to be warm, bright, full of life. your energy was infectious, your smile lighting up even the darkest corners of his mind.

he worried that he might extinguish your light if he got too close, afraid that his touch might dim your radiance. but then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, you wrapped your delicate arms around his. megumi's heart raced, pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. he'd never felt anything like this before. it was as if a bell rang inside his mind, each beat of his heart echoing with the sound. your touch was gentle, yet it set his nerves alight, a single act of affection that shook him to his core.

in that instant, megumi realized why it had bothered him so much. it wasn't just about the act of clinging; it was about the person. It was about you. the thought of you being close to others had ignited a jealousy he hadn't recognized, a longing he hadn't understood.

and now, as you clung to his arm, megumi swore he could feel his world shift. in that moment, he knew that your warmth, your light, was something he wanted to protect, to cherish. and for the first time, he welcomed the feeling, embracing the connection you offered with open arms.

“fushigurooo,” your honey voice, echoes through the wooden wall of your school. a bright smile reached your eyes, shaping them into crescents as you skipped your way over to him. you were always full of life, a burst of sunshine on even the dullest days.

yuuta was there, but you don't even spare the boy a glance, your arms finds their own home naturally— megumi's arm. the second year and the first year decided to go on break after the training that day, strolling around tokyo for treat with gojo's money.

“fushiguro, how's your day?” you ask him, smiling as you look up at the taller boy. megumi looks down at you, watching how you comfortably clung around his arm, refusing to let go.

smiling, the blue-irised boy answered, “it was good, y/n, how's yours?” he pulled his arm closer to his body, and with his expectation you followed along until there was no void, a distance megumi refused to stand. the tumultuous roads of tokyo, but all he could ever listen to was your sweet voice, telling him about how's your day going. the chaos of the city faded into the background, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, walking

the streets of tokyo were alive with energy, filled with the sounds of chatter, laughter, and the occasional honk of a car horn. despite the chaos, megumi's focus remained on you. you animatedly recounted your day, your voice a soothing melody amid the city's cacophony.

yuuta walked a few steps behind, giving the two of you space. he couldn't help but smile at the sight, understanding that something special was unfolding. gojo, always the observer, watched with a knowing grin from the back, making a mental note to tease megumi about it later.

as you continued to talk, your hand lightly squeezed megumi's arm. “and then, we tried this new dessert place. you have to come with me next time, fushiguro. the matcha parfaits are to die for.” megumi chuckled softly, his usual stoic expression softened by your enthusiasm. “i’ll keep that in mind. it sounds good.” you beamed up at him, your eyes twinkling. “it really is! oh, and guess what? i found this adorable bookstore tucked away in a side street. they have the cutest stationery.”

megumi nodded, listening intently, savoring each detail you shared. he found himself looking forward to these moments more and more, where he could just listen to you, forgetting about everything else.

the group eventually reached a cozy café, its exterior adorned with fairy lights and flowering plants. gojo, ever the generous mentor, insisted on treating everyone. you pulled megumi inside, your excitement contagious as you marveled at the menu. “what are you getting, fushiguro?” you asked, glancing up at him with those bright, expectant eyes. megumi scanned the menu briefly before deciding. “maybe just a coffee and a pastry. what about you?”

you giggled, nudging him playfully. “you’re so predictable. i think i'll go for the strawberry shortcake and a matcha latte.” as you made your decision, megumi chuckled lightly at your predictable choice. megumi rolled his eyes at your comment, a light smile playing on his lips. “and you’re too extravagant with your tastes,” e teased, his eyes flickering over the menu, scanning the options before settling for a black coffee and a small blueberry tart.

“seriously, always with the sweets.”

as light as a feather, teasing lingering in his voice the moment his soft smile reached you. after placing your orders, you found a cozy corner to sit in. he followed you to the booth, leaning against it casually as they waited to order. megumi noticed how you made sure to stay close, your arm brushing against his side as you continued to cling to his arm. it was a small gesture, but it made his heart race.

“honestly, your sweet tooth knows no bounds,” he teased, eyeing the array of pastries behind the glass display case. “i’m amazed you don’t turn into a sugar cube after all the sweets you consume.”

“oh come on,” you retorted with a small giggle, smacking his arm playfully. “i don't consume that much sugar. it's called enjoying life, you should try it sometime.” megumi chuckled lightly at your retort, his gaze lazily drifting towards the pastries on display. “enjoying life is one thing. drowning it in excessive sweetness is another.” he shot you a teasing smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement.

you rolled your eyes in faux annoyance, giving his arm another light smack. “you’re just being a party pooper. i bet you're secretly jealous because I know how to savor the little things.” megumi chuckled again, enjoying the lighthearted banter. he found himself getting more comfortable as the conversation continued, the ease of your presence making it feel natural. but even with the casual teasing, a hint of affection snuck into his voice.

“jealous? if your sugar addiction? hardly.”

“shut up, just let me be,” you murmur, your voice tender and suffused with warmth. your arms, once wrapped around him, slowly release their hold and slide down to gently grasp his large hand. the warmth of your touch lingers through the fabric of his uniform, yet it ignites a searing sensation within him.

his gaze descends to where your hand clasps his thumb, noting the delicate strength in your touch. the crimson flush on your cheeks deepens as you avert your gaze, trying to hide the tumult of emotions roiling within. his heart quickens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the connection between you both deepening with each intertwining motion.

in that quiet, intimate moment, the world seems to shrink to just the two of you. the warmth of your hands melds with his, bridging the space between your hearts, creating a sanctuary of understanding and unspoken promises.

as the minutes passed, the conversation flowed naturally. you talked about everything and nothing, your laughter a soothing balm to megumi's usually serious demeanor. the bustling café seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

when the food arrived, you eagerly shared your dessert with megumi, insisting he try a bite. he obliged, savoring the sweet taste and the way your eyes lit up when he complimented it. “this is good,” he admitted, causing you to grin triumphantly. “i told you so,” you replied, your voice filled with delight. as the day turned into evening, the group eventually decided it was time to head back. you clung to megumi's arm once more, your presence a comforting constant. megumi's mind was filled with a thousand thoughts, each one circling back to you.

and in that moment, he realized that having you by his side wasn't just something he tolerated. it was something he cherished. you were the warmth in his life, the light that made even the busiest streets of tokyo feel like home.

the touch of your hand intertwined with his began to stir something deep within him. the vibrant cityscape of tokyo seemed to blur into the background as he focused on the warmth that lingered between your fingers. it was in this quiet, intimate moment that a profound realization dawned upon him.

he recalled the countless times he had seen you with others—always reaching out, always seeking a connection. it wasn’t merely the physical closeness you sought; it was something far more significant. your gestures were not just idle habits; they were expressions of trust and comfort, woven into the fabric of your interactions.

but now, as he looked down at your hand nestled in his, the truth became unmistakable. since the first time he had encountered you, your warmth and openness had been evident, but with him, there was a different layer of you, how each layer you handed to him with an open heart. you had always clung to him with a special kind of trust, a quiet confidence that set him apart from everyone else.

a sudden wave of humility washed over megumi. the way you rested your hand in his, the way you leaned into his presence, spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings. it was clear now that you saw him as someone steadfast and reliable, someone worthy of your most genuine trust. this simple, yet profound connection was a testament to how much you valued him.

as he felt the gentle pressure of your fingers against his, megumi's heart swelled with a newfound understanding. the touch was more than a mere physical contact; it was an embodiment of the bond that had grown between you. he was the only person you had allowed to be this close, to hold your trust in such a profound way.

he squeezed your hand softly, a tender acknowledgment of the connection that had woven itself so seamlessly into their lives. It was a silent vow—a promise to cherish and honor the trust you had bestowed upon him. in that fleeting moment, as the city’s din faded into insignificance, megumi felt the weight of the trust you had given him and knew it was a precious gift he would hold close to his heart.

[hoshifighting]

hi hi could you do an fwb2lovers wonwoo with some angst but happy ending? I really love your works!!! thank you 😊

Friends with Benefit to Lovers - Wonwoo

a/n: thank you for all the luv, xoxo 💋❤️

warnings: suggestive ending, angst, fluff, being left out, reconciliation.

you and Wonwoo have been tight since freshman year, forged through late-night cram sessions, shared slices of greasy pizza, and endless games of FIFA. it's that kind of friendship where you know each other's quirks better than your own.

one friday evening, you find yourselves at a frat party, the air thick with the scent of cheap beer and the bass from the speakers pounding against your chest, you're just happy to be along for the ride, nursing a red cup of something that tastes suspiciously like punch.

you watch from a distance as a girl from Wonwoo's course sidles up to him, their conversation growing more animated by the minute. part of you wants to intervene, to remind Wonwoo of your existence, but another part—the stubborn part—refuses to budge. so you sit there, nursing your drink and pretending not to care. 

you had drunk so much that the party went by too quickly, the cheap alcohol from the punch felt like a punch to your liver. some of your friends still tried to talk to you, but your social battery had already run out.

so, you stay put on the worn-out couch, drowning your thoughts in another cup of punch that's probably more sugar than anything else. the party is winding down, people stumbling out the door in twos and threes, but you're stuck here, waiting for Wonwoo's ride back to the dorms.

time stretches on, each minute feeling like an eternity as you wait for Wonwoo to notice you. finally, he appears in front of you, his expression unreadable. "let's go?" he says, his tone flat.

you stand up without a word, ignoring his outstretched hand as you make your way to the door. the car ride is suffocating in its silence, each passing mile stretching the tension between you until it feels like it might snap.

back in the dorm, you head straight for the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself. as you're drying your hair with a towel, Wonwoo's voice cuts through the silence like a knife. "why are you like this?" he demands, his frustration palpable.

you whirl around, towel still clutched in your hand. "remembering my existence now?" you snap. Wonwoo's taken aback, his eyes widening in surprise.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he asks.

you square your shoulders, refusing to back down.

"it means you've been ignoring me all night, and now you expect me to act like everything's okay? i'm not a mind reader, Wonwoo. i can't just pretend like nothing's wrong."

"are you telling me this because of soojin?" he asks, his voice tinged with frustration.

you roll your eyes, unable to mask your irritation. "like it's not obvious," you mutter under your breath.

Wonwoo's expression softens, and he takes a step closer, reaching out as if to touch your arm. "look, she's just a girl from my class. we were talking about a new project, that's all. there's no need to feel jealous."

you scoff, cutting him off before he can finish.

"jealous? you think i was jealous?" you shoot back, incredulous. "no, i wasn't. i just didn't want to go to a party and be alone the whole fucking time!"

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair in exasperation.

"yes, i was with my friends," you concede, your tone softer now. "but i came with you, Wonwoo. and i... i wanted to spend time with you."

"i know, i know," he starts, his tone apologetic yet tinged with frustration. "but i thought you'd be fine with your friends for a bit. i didn't mean to make you feel left out."

you let out a heavy sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"it's not just about being fine with my friends," you say, your voice quieter now, tinged with hurt. "i came here with you, Wonwoo. i wanted to spend time with you. but instead, i felt like i was just tagging along while you hung out with someone else."

Wonwoo's shoulders slump, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck.

"i didn't realize you felt that way," he admits, his voice quiet.

"well, now you do," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. "and it sucks feeling like i'm just some afterthought."

you collapse onto the couch, the weight of the argument draining every ounce of energy from your body. you're exhausted, emotionally spent, and all you want to do is close your eyes and forget about the whole thing.

but before you can even think about resting, Wonwoo kneels down in front of you, his expression soft with concern. you meet his gaze, the weariness in your eyes mirrored in his own.

"hey," he says gently, reaching out to take your hand in his. "are you okay?"

you nod, a small sigh escaping your lips. "yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo squeezes your hand, his touch warm and comforting. "i'm really sorry about earlier," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "i didn't mean to upset you."

you manage a weak smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly at his words. "it's okay," you assure him, the weight of the argument already starting to feel lighter.

Wonwoo leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "i just want you to know that you mean a lot to me," he murmurs, his words a whispered promise. "I didn't realize how much my actions were affecting you. you're not just some afterthought, I promise."

you feel a weight lift from your chest as he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. 

his tongue finds its way into your mouth, exploring every crevice with a familiarity that makes you mewl. you melt into his embrace, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as if you never want to let him go.

that was another thing about Wonwoo – he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment.

as the kiss deepens, you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue like a sweet addiction.

he pull back slightly so both of you can breathe.

"you're not just my friend," wonwoo confesses, "you're... you're so much more than that."

your heart feels like it's about to burst from your chest as you search his eyes.

"I've been scared to say it, scared to admit it even to myself," Wonwoo admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "but I can't deny it any longer. I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. "I've loved you for so long."

he kisses your forehead, your lips, giving the smile that you've always loved.

you pull back, caressing his chin and jaw with your hands.

"you know," you murmur, "just because you're sorry doesn't mean i'm going to go easy on you."

Wonwoo chuckles "i wouldn't expect anything less," he replies.

you smirk, feeling a surge of confidence coursing through you. "good," you say, your tone teasing. "because i have a few ideas about how you can make it up to me."

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Yandere werewolf Wyper x female farmer reader

Worse Fates

Yandere Werewolf Wyper x Fem Reader

3.6k words

Summary: After finding your livestock brutally mauled, you decide to stay awake throughout the night to try and catch whatever could be doing this.

Warnings: violence towards the reader (gets bit), mild gore, non-consentual touching, mild yandere elements, reader is technically fem but it never actually comes up so you can read this as gn too tbh

There were plenty of trials and tribulations that came with working in ranching. It was very hard work that came with minimal reward. Some years your family made enough to live somewhat comfortably, but plenty of years left you all barely scraping by. Last year was particularly rough due to severe flooding drowning a lot of your livestock, and this year was setting itself up to also be deadly to the cattle your family raised.

Not because of flooding this time, but because you kept waking up in the morning to find your livestock brutally mauled to death. While this is hardly the first time you’ve found one of your animals dead, no one in your family had ever found one in such a grisly state. You’ve seen the result of wolves or coyotes killing a cow, but this looked like it was done by a bear. A huge one at that. It was confusing, but terrifying more than anything. What was doing this? None of your family had ever seen a bear around the ranch, so what if it was something else? Some other unknown beast that was mauling your livelihood.

With everything going on, you felt desperate enough to pay your neighbors a visit. The Shandia Farm specialized in agriculture, growing a variety of crops to make a living. Despite them being the people nearest to you, your families really didn’t interact much. Both of you were busy with your own jobs which left little time for mingling and socializing. Which was fine. You got the impression that you weren’t particularly welcome over here. Wyper, the perceived man in charge, was always quick to tell you to leave so he could get back to work on the few occasions that you did try to get to know him.

And what would happen if one of you were outside when it came stalking onto your property for another meal? 

Ideally, you would encounter Raki once you got there. She was always much more willing to talk and be courteous to you. You knew that your reason for being there wasn’t particularly great. All that you wanted to do was ask if they’ve seen anything strange lurking around these parts, but you figured that was pretty unlikely given that they didn’t have any animals to attract a large predator.

The dust of the dirt road kicks up as you walk quickly. A large gate was just ahead of you with a log perched on top of it with the words “Shandia Farm” carved into it. The gate was fortunately already open, making it easy for you to walk right in.You quickly glance around, trying to find anyone you can talk to. All that your eyes can see is the large, partially harvested field of pumpkins, with a wheat field wrapping around the distance. No people, though.

“What are you doing here?” 

Hearing a gruff voice coming from directly behind you startles you. You jump a bit and whip around to find Wyper uncomfortably close behind you. He’s staring down at you with his arms crossed over his bare chest. His teeth grind against a cigarillo and his eyebrows raise slightly as he waits for you to explain yourself.

Oh, right. The question you had about if any one here had seen anything. It seems like you’re going to have to settle for speaking with Wyper afterall. You clear your throat as you take a decisive step back to put some distance between you two.

“I, uh, I have a question for you.” You fidget with the worn fabric of your clothing as Wyper stares at you in silence. “We’ve been having trouble with something killing out livestock, and I was just wondering if anyone over here has seen anything strange recently?”

The second the words were out of your mouth, Wyper scoffed and turned away from you. “It was probably just a wolf or something, you don’t need to bother me over such a simple matter.” He began making his way through the empty parts of the pumpkin patch, walking around the remaining vines with a practiced ease. He was seemingly done with the conversation.

You weren’t ready to drop the subject so easily, however. With only a brief moment of hesitation, you follow him into the field. While he was effortlessly avoiding the vines, you were left stumbling as they snagged your boots and tried to trip you. You call out to him as you lag behind him, “But there’s no way a wolf has been doing this! Not even an entire pack could mutilate a cow the way we’ve been finding them.”

It takes noticeably longer than it should have, but you do eventually catch up to him. He’s bent over and using a shear to cut the stems of the pumpkins. When he makes no move to refute your point, you start to speak again, only to immediately get cut off by him.

“If you’re going to be here and pester me, then at least help out.” 

Before you can squeeze the shear, Wyper’s hand juts out to grab yours and moves it further up the stem. He looks annoyed and huffs quietly. “Don’t cut so close to the pumpkin, that makes them go bad faster.”

Without even waiting to see if you would agree to the demand, he digs a spare shear out of a pocket on his pants and shoves it into your hands. For a moment, you balk at being forcibly recruited into harvesting, but your desire to get even a scrap of useful information out of him wins over. You heave a sigh and move to the row next to him and crouch down to cut the stem.

“Oh, okay. Sorry.” You glance down to confirm how high up he repositioned your hand. You feel like you get about where you’re supposed to cut, and you want to, but there’s a problem. His hand is still tightly clutching yours and he doesn’t appear to be letting go anytime soon. You turn to look at him, “Cut a few inches up the stem, I got it… You wanna let go now?”

For a moment, his grip only tightens, but then he lets go and returns to cutting pumpkin stems in his own row. He quietly grumbles under his breath, “Just making sure you got it…”

That was… weird. You shake your head and start quickly cutting stems to catch up to him. Given that he didn’t immediately kick you out like he usually would, you take that as an invitation to keep pressing him. “As I was saying, whatever is killing my cattle can’t be a wolf. The bite marks are too big, and there are these huge gashes from claws that no one in my family has ever seen before. Have you guys maybe seen a bear or something like that lurking around here?”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Wyper freeze up and stop his work. His jaw tenses and bites down on his cigarillo to the point that it’s bitten all the way through and half of it falls to the ground. While you may not know Wyper on a personal level, you feel confident in saying that this is strange behavior for him. 

You hesitate for a second, then decide to speak up, “Are… Are you okay?”

He snaps out of his stupor and stands up straight. He spits out the remaining piece of his cigarillo and quickly replaces it with a new one from a pack in his back pocket. He fumbles for a moment while trying to light it. Once it’s lit, he takes a long drag from it. Not once has he looked at you, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay again when he abruptly snatches the shears out of your hand.

“Don’t go out at night.”

That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. Your brain stalls out for a second, then you quietly utter, “Excuse me?”

Finally, he turns to face you, and he’s back to his usual stern expression, though you can’t help but notice the sheen of sweat coating him. Your eyes follow a drop of sweat that runs down the tattoos covering his face before he wipes at it with his bare hand. He takes another drag and exhales it right into your face. You cough as the smoky, yet oddly sweet smell assaults your senses and burns your eyes.

“You and your family shouldn’t go out at night… Whatever has been doing that is probably something you don’t want to encounter. Now get going, I have work to do.” With that, he returns to harvesting pumpkins as if you two didn’t have an incredibly odd exchange.

The way that he vaguely acknowledged your struggles while giving terrible advice really rubbed you the wrong way. This wasn’t a problem that you had the luxury to simply ignore. “We can’t just do that! Our livestock is being massacred! We’re going to lose the farm if we lose much more!”

“There are some fates worse than that.”

What?

All that you can do is gawk at him after saying something so ominous. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you point a trembling finger at him, “You know something about this, don’t you?”

Wyper keeps his back to you and speaks in a curt tone, “I don’t know anything, I’m just offering some advice based on what you told me.”

You want to argue with him and push him more, but you know that won’t get you anywhere. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he spoke to you as much as he has, not that any of it was particularly helpful. You turn on your heel and stomp your way out of the pumpkin patch, trying your damnedest to not trip over any vines and make a fool of yourself. Whatever. He can keep his secrets. It would seem that you and your family were on your own when it came to dealing with whatever was plaguing your humble ranch.

That night, you found yourself settled into the old rocking chair on your farmhouse’s front porch, sipping on a cup of coffee to help keep yourself awake. A hunting rifle was propped against the wall next to you as you idly rocked yourself with one foot. Your family had come to the decision that one of you would stay awake all night until whatever was killing your livestock was gone. You offered to take the first shift, mostly due to the eerie conversation you had with Wyper that was very much still on your mind. It was unlikely that you would have been able to sleep anyway, so you might as well put yourself on nightwatch. 

The thing that stood out to you the most from your earlier conversation was the specification that you shouldn’t go out at night. If this was all the work of a bear, that made no sense. They were active during the daytime as far as you were aware. He would only specify nighttime as being dangerous if he knew precisely what was doing this, but why wouldn’t he just come out and say what exactly that was? Why keep the answer hidden behind vague words? What did he have to gain from doing that?

Instinctively, you look over to where the pastures are. A pointless thing to do in the middle of the night. The only light out here was coming from your lantern and the full moon glowing in the sky above you. Hardly enough to illuminate the sprawling fields your livestock lived on. 

All was quiet, something that part of you knew was a good thing, though you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of frustration. You don’t want to wait around for days or even weeks to identify the threat to your family’s farm, you want to take care of this here and now so this can be behind you instead of a looming problem.

You take another sip of your lukewarm coffee when you suddenly hear something. In an instant, you perk up and halt all movement so you can strain your ears. In the distance, you can hear cattle bellowing and running.

The blanket draped over your shoulders flies off as you spring out of the rocking chair. You slam the coffee mug down and grab the rifle and lantern before sprinting in the direction of the commotion. 

Grass crunches under your feet and the lantern rattles as you run. You easily vault over the fence and keep going. The sound of bellowing cattle grows louder and your eyes are able to make out cows running away from where the noise was coming from.

This had to be it. Whatever was making them run had to be the thing that’s been preying on them! You allow the lantern’s handle to fall to the crook of your arm as you pull out the small bag of gunpowder from your pocket and pour some into the pan of your rifle. You slow down to carefully stalk towards the predator that is about to become your prey and take aim.

Not far ahead, you can hear the wet, visceral sound of flesh being torn apart and curse under your breath, knowing that whatever this thing was had already managed to get its teeth into another one of your cows. And from the lack of noise coming from the cow itself, you knew that it was already dead.

While it’s still very dark, you can make out the shape of something hunched over the carcass of one of your cattle. You point your gun at it but don’t shoot. The creature is little more than a silhouette to you, but you notice something about it that makes your heart stop. It has arms.

The gun is lowered as you strain your eyes to try and make out more details. That… That thing couldn’t be human. There is no way a human being has been doing all of this. It’s just not possible! You creep closer, taking advantage of that thing having its back to you and not yet noticing your presence. You can tell that it’s covered in a dense fur with what appears to be a mane around its head. 

What… What the fuck are you looking at?

In an attempt to figure out what that thing is, you take another step closer and a twig snaps under your foot. The second that the noise cuts through the air, the creature whips around with a loud, reverberating snarl. You yelp and stumble back while raising the rifle again, but the animal- no, the monster is much faster than you. Before you can pull the trigger, it lunges forward and tackles you to the ground. Your lantern shatters on impact. Glass shards stab into your arm, making you scream in pain as the grass begins to catch fire.

You try to hit the monster with the gun but it clamps its maw around the barrel and rips it out of your hands, hurling it away from you and leaving you completely defenseless. You stare up at it as the growing fire around you sheds light on the monster and your mouth goes dry.

This creature is nothing like you’ve ever seen before, but that isn’t the worst part. It has tattoos on its face, ones that you would recognize anywhere. Everything fell into place. The odd behavior, the cryptic words, the way that he let on to knowing more than he told…

“Wyper?”

The words are barely even a whisper, you’re too shocked to be able to even begin to process this. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. You don’t want to believe it, but you can’t argue with the evidence right above you. Especially when you see the tattoos continue onto his shoulder and chest, just like Wyper’s do.

Saying his name makes the beast- Wyper, growl and lower his face closer to yours. His face was severely distorted, and you never would have been able to recognize him if it weren’t for the distinct tattoo. He had a snout like a wolf and was covered in a coarse, dark red fur. His ears were pointed, though they remained about where a human’s ears should be. The “mane” that you had seen was really just his hair, though it appeared to be thicker than usual and running all the way down his back.

You cry out and struggle under him as he presses his snout into the crook of your neck. You kick your legs and pound on his chest while pleading with him not to do this, to not kill you. Tears pour down your face as your mind begins to predict how it’s going to feel when he sinks his teeth into your throat and rips it out.

Instead of making your fears a reality, he does something that completely throws you off. He starts sniffing you. Hot puffs of air coat your neck with condensation as he takes long, deep breaths, each one feeling more desperate than the last. Wyper presses his wet nose against you so hard to the point that it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but cringe as you realize that the wetness is the blood from the slaughtered cow.

You push on his chest harder, but he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even appear to be registering that you’re doing anything as he huffs in your scent. You shriek as you feel his tongue lap at your skin. In a desperate attempt to get him off of you before he can kill you, you grab a fistful of his hair and yank on it as hard as you can.

Wyper snarls loudly right into your ear in response and abruptly bites your shoulder. Your shrill scream cuts through the night air as large, pointed teeth sink into you. Rather than ripping you to shreds, he starts to drag you through the grass. Your screams continue as the fresh wound on your shoulder is repeatedly tugged at with each pull. You desperately try to find anything to hold onto to keep him from taking you wherever he has planned, but there’s nothing. All that there is to grab is grass.

“(Y/N)?! Where are you?!”

In the distance you can hear your younger brother screaming for you, likely drawn out of the house by your own scream. You’re torn between feeling relief that you may be saved, and terror that he’s going to die with you.  

“I lost the gun! It should be near the fire!” You still aren’t sure if him coming to your rescue would be a good thing, but if absolutely nothing else, he will be safer if he has the rifle. While your family used to have several, you were forced to sell all but one just to survive last year, and now that one remaining gun is sitting somewhere in the blazing pasture.

Another scream is ripped out of you as Wyper drops you. Blood is gushing out of your shoulder now that his teeth are no longer there to slow the bleeding. You frantically scramble to get to your feet and run, but he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder. One of your fists pounds on his back while your other hand tightly clutches your wounded shoulder. You look up to see your brother coming into view as he runs around where the fire is in search of the rifle. His eyes keep darting up to look for you, but you’re too far from the light of the fire to be visible to him, meaning that all he has to go off of is your pained screams. You can see your parents and other siblings running towards you, terror and confusion on all of their faces. All of them are carrying random household objects like kitchen knives and fire pokers in lieu of proper weapons, with your father wielding the only other viable weapon in the form of the axe you use for chopping firewood.

As much as you want them to save you, you don’t know if they can. Wyper’s new form easily towers over even your tallest family member, and considering how easily he disarmed you, you’re terrified of what will happen if they actually try to fight him.

“Get back in the house! You can’t fight it! He’ll kill you!”

“Fight what?! Who’s here?! Who did this?!” Your father was completely undeterred by your words and continued to follow the sound of your voice, only stopping when he abruptly slipped and fell in a puddle of your blood. His face paled as he realized what he had fallen into and saw the trail of blood created from when Wyper was dragging you. Just as quickly as he fell, he springs back up and charges into the darkness, following the blood and yelling your name. 

At the same moment, your brother calls out that he found the gun and races to follow your father with everyone else not far behind him. With the gun found, you feel a tinge of hope that they’ll be able to save you. 

Just as you allow yourself that little bit of hope, it’s snuffed out. Wyper breaks into a sprint with you firmly held in place on his shoulder. You kick and scream, crying out for your family, but it’s all for naught. Wyper is running so fast that their voices begin to fade into the distance almost immediately. Sobs wrack through your body as a wave of hopelessness crashes over you. Was this really how you were going to die? By being carried away and eaten by the monstrous form of one of your neighbors?

The answer felt clear to you as your vision faded and you began to faint from blood loss. 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Unorthodox Besties 🫂 | Leah Clearwater Headcanon

Twilight Masterlist

Being a vampire and best friends with Leah Clearwater would look like:

As you can imagine, you two were natural enemies in the beginning. A shifter and a vampire? Who are best friends? Yeah like that could work. 

But surprisingly, the two of you had more in common. You enjoyed movies, music, books, crafts, and traveling. You talked shit about the men around you. Judged the humans when they made stupid decisions--to which Leah would scold you for threatening to drain them of their blood. 

The friendship was a slow progression. And considering you were forbidden onto the Rez and Leah despised being near the Cullens, you two hung out in Forks or traveled to nearby ones. Then on special occasions (birthdays, holidays) your super speed was an advantage to get to Canada, Seattle, or cross state lines for the day. 

At functions where the Cullens and Wolf Pack are together, you two take to a corner to talk shit and judge everyone--completely unbothered by the fact they can all hear you. "Did you hear the latest scandal at the high school? It's rather juicy." "You mean the history teacher and guidance counselor? Yeah I overheard some seniors talking about it at the diner." 

You're Sam's biggest hater and always lets him know it. 

Seth is the one member of the pack; besides Leah, you would do anything for. He's like a surrogate little brother and after many years of friendship with Leah, he looks to you as an older sibling. 

Esme and Carlisle are very welcoming to Leah, and it takes a bit before Leah willingly comes to the Cullen house. Rosalie and Jasper keep their distance, but Alice tries to give fashion advice and join y'all when you go shopping.

You guys exchange books, buy gifts related to the other's interests. Leah teaches you social media, and you tell stories of your past. 

Leah sends you memes of vampire related media to piss you off. In retaliation, you gave her a plastic dog bone as a gag gift. 

You'll have human snacks and beverages in your room for when she comes over and pack them when you go on weekend vacations to get away from your families. 

Leah scouts the animal population and keeps updated of the hunting season. 

When you graduate high school for the dozenth time and Leah goes off to college you two get an apartment together. Preferable closer to wooded area and not downtown in the city. Y'alls aesthetics are completely opposite so when Leah brings classmates over to work on projects (with warning of course) they often make comments like, "Wow, this wasn't exactly what I expected."

Once a week, you'll drain the blood of an animal into a wine bottle so you guys can chill in the living room where Leah has a glass of wine and you have a glass of blood. She'll rant about her classmates and professors, and you'll share opinions on current world topics. 

[gilverrwrites]

I could love you

Eobard Thawne/Reader, 6K words (+a little Barry Allen/Reader) Warnings: NON/EXTREMELY-DUBIOUS CONSENT | home intrusion | arguing | violence | lying | rough sex | rough breast/nipple play | teasing | exhibitionism | unprotected sex | breeding kink | just a tiny hint of asphyxiation | DEAD-DOVE: DO NOT EAT - As per, I'm being way to cautious with the warnings. A/N: Nobody asked for this, I basically just wrote it for my thirsty self. Mostly based on the animated films (paradox and hell to pay). No further explanation, he's just hot ok.

A lot had happened today that you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t expected to buy a whole new dress, a pretty, glittery one with strappy shoulders and a moderately low neckline, but you’d really hit it off with this guy from Tinder, and you kinda wanted to impress him. You’d been looking forward to it all week, which is why you hadn’t expected it when he ghosted you, standing you up and blocking all your socials. What an ass.

You also hadn’t expected to bump into your co-worker Barry Allen at the restaurant. He’d insisted on joining you. Despite your initial objections, you’d had a really nice time, in a strictly platonic way of course. You had no romantic interest in Barry, but he sure was easy to spend time with, his nerdy nature, and affinity for bad jokes had genuinely lifted your spirits. At the end of the night, he’d walked you home, thanking you for letting him crash your pity party. He said he rarely got to sit down to properly enjoy a meal and good company. You can believe it; you've never met another man who's somehow always rushing, yet somehow still perpetually late for everything. In turn, you’d thanked him for saving you from the embarrassment of eating alone and taking your mind off the sting of rejection before giving him a goodnight kiss on the cheek and heading inside. Which is where the biggest surprise was waiting for you.

By the door, you instantly hang up your bag and kick off the new shoes that had been grating your toes all evening before negating your way to the kitchen to store your doggy bag, using nothing but the low light that seeps through your windows, not bothering with the big lights. When you turn to head for the bedroom, you’re not expecting to find the ominous, yellow blurred silhouette of a man in your doorway or it’s two red, glowing eyes that pierce through darkness.

“Did you enjoy your date?” His voice billows through the room, bouncing off the tiled walls and echoing in your ears. It’s almost comical, this formidable, inordinate, spirit-like intruder, standing in the darkness, quizzing you about love life. You’d laugh if you weren’t scared stiff.

“Date?” You eventually question, voice meek as you attempt to tiptoe back from him, but before you can finish a single step, he crosses half of the distance between you, moving at impossible speed and that’s when it clicks, who he is. Professor Zoom, The Reverse-Flash, The Man in yellow. The media had many names for him, but nobody knew his true identity. What you can’t figure out, however, is why he’s here, and why he cares about your ‘date’.

“Yes.” As he speaks, his shape begins to take form, sharpening into something more human. The leather-like fabric of his suit clings to a powerful frame. The red of his eyes grows even more sinister once you catch sight of his black scleras. He smiles at you, rather unsettlingly with full lips. “Did you have a nice time with Barry Allen? Did he charm you with his stupid sweater and outdated jokes?”

“What? He did- we-” He takes a step closer, and you avert your eyes from his uncomfortable gaze, rapidly searching for a weapon, or an escape route, but really, what can you do? What could you grab, where could you go that he wouldn’t get to first? You’re caught in a trap, and he knows it, that’s why he’s taking his sweet time, languidly, confidently treading closer, watching you sweat. Though you feel utterly ridiculous explaining this to him, you do your best to answer his questions. “It was nice, but it wasn’t a date!”

“No?” His tone oozes amusement. He chuckles, it comes deep from his chest. If you weren’t scared witless, it might have been a compelling sound, but he’s close enough to touch you now, and you shake as he reaches a hand out, taking the skirt of your dress between his thumb and fingers to play with the fabric. Those unnerving eyes tracing over your body, following the curve of your hips, the dip in your cleavage. “You dress like this for all of your non-dates?”

In an impulsive burst of anger you make to slap his hand away but he beats you to it, letting go and leaning back against the nearest counter long before you reach him.

“Do you love him?” He asks point blank, and the absurdity of it strikes you.

“No!” You answer without hesitation. It’s the truth, and hopefully what he wants to hear. “What are you even- “

“I don’t believe you.” He interrupts with the shake of his head.

“I don’t care if you believe me, it’s none of your business but it’s the truth! He’s just a co-worker.” You plead but he doesn’t appear to be listening. Instead, he’s nosing through your cupboards like he owns them, leisurely poking around until he finds a mug. In the blink of an eye your kettle is boiling, and a herbal teabag sits waiting at the bottom of the cup. How long does he plan on being here? “Why do you even care? What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, so you continue to attest, each of your statements met with a ‘tsk’ or the shaking of his head. You go round and round in circles, Zoom apparently content to drag this out as long as it remains entertaining for him, knowing that you know, there’s nothing you can do to be rid of him until he’s good and ready.

“Credit where it's due though, Bar.” He finally turns to you once more, eyes roaming your frame again between sips of what must be scalding hot tea. “He has good taste.”

The compliment, while peculiarly gratifying, does nothing to soothe your anger and fear. It’s becoming more and more clear to you that whatever he’s here to do, this is about Barry. You’re just caught in the crossfire. There’s no way for you to win, but you shoot another, pointless shot anyway. “I don’t love him, I swear.”

“Maybe not yet. But you will.” His self-assurance continues to intimidate you. You know it’s useless but when he steps toward you again, you step back, all but cowering as he seethes.

“Unless I stop it from happening. You can’t give your heart to Barry Allen.” He states, and before you can even process his assertion, you’re overcome with debilitating pain. Intensely sharp, and arching, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, all emanating from your chest. Looking down you see his arm, yellow and blurred, buried in your torso, literally clutching your heart in his hand. “Not if I take it first.”

This is the part where you beg for your life, but you’re too overcome with panic and pain to utter more than a quiet and shaky. “Please.”

His body is moving at such a fast pace that it’s near impossible to make out his features, but you could swear he’s smiling as he watches you panting in pain, trying your best not to move a single muscle for fear of what it will do to your body. Smiling at the quiver of your lip, at your fear-stricken expression, at the glassiness of your eyes as they begin to well with tears.

You do well not to flinch as he leans in closer, but he must feel the way your heartbeat quickens between his fingers. You don’t even wince when you feel the strange, wet tingle of his tongue rolling up your skin, soaking up the salty taste of a stray tear that had trickled down your cheek.

“Please.” You try once more. Taking his aberrant actions as a sign that maybe there is a slither of hope, that you could still find a way out of death. “I don’t- I could never love him.”

Steady and deliberate, you lift your arms attempting to touch him, to lay your hands on his shoulders but they phase right through, and result in a bitter laugh.

“I could love you thought!” Hurriedly you take a stab in the dark, internally praying your false declaration might appeal to him. Might convince him to prevent your supposedly inevitable love for Barry by becoming the object of your affections instead. “He means nothing to me, but you could mean something.”

The moment his arm leaves your insides, you heave a loud, excessive sigh of relief, your whole body falling slack even as he grabs you, bunching up the cleavage of your dress and using it to pull you flush against his broad chest.

“Could you now? You don’t even know me.” He doesn’t seem at all convinced, but the fact that he’s asking bodes well for you. It bids you time if nothing else. His breath is hot and sweet against your face, and he watches you intensely as you try again to touch him. This time you succeed, nodding your affirmation as you graze your fingers along the black and red emblem between his pecks before resting them on his shoulders with deliberate casualness. “Why would you fall for someone like me?”

“Because… you’re better than him.” He’d insulted Barry before. Sure, Barry is nice, but you don’t care enough about your co-worker to defend his honour when your life is on the line. Maybe if you can appeal to Zoom’s ego by putting Barry down you can survive this encounter. You must be onto something because he hums his approval, tilting his head to the side until your knuckles brush his bristled cheek. “You’re smarter, stronger…”

“Faster?” He chimes in, a smug smile on his lips.

“Yes, of course you’re faster.” You agree, stretching up to nuzzle your nose into his neck. “I could love you so much.”  

Though you’re certain he could have stripped you naked in an instant, he chooses instead to thread a finger under the strap of your dress, slowly trailing it from your shoulder. His brows are hidden behind his hood but the look in his dark red eyes is evident; hungry and expectant. “Okay, I’ll bite. Prove it.”  

You hadn’t expected to get this far, but you comply with his veiled demand, leaning back to finish the job. Tentatively, you pull down the other sleeve, shimmying your dress down until it falls to the floor and pools at your feet, leaving you exposed to The Reverse-Flash in nothing but the matching underwear you’d picked out this morning. You’d been hoping to get laid, but you’d never expected it would happen like this. 

He must like what he sees, because the haughty expression on what you can see of his face falters to a softer, more genuine one. His black and crimson eyes widening as he takes you in.

“Did you wear those for Barry?” You’re sure from his tone and the quirk of his lip that he’s teasing, but his face is hidden enough to cast doubt, and you don’t want to get stuck in a loop again, so you don’t answer.

“Will you- ?” You gesture to him hesitantly, unsure if you should even ask. He seems taken aback by your request at first, eyes narrowing as he watches you but to your surprise, he complies, pulling his cowl back to reveal a face you don’t recognise. You hadn’t really expected to know him, you can’t imagine ever interacting with anyone like him in your day-to-day life. He is, however, far more attractive than you’d expected, with a strong jaw and nose, pronounced cheekbones, dark brows, and striking pale blond hair. “You’re certainly better looking than him.”

“I know.” He doesn’t seem boastful, but before you can stew on it the clasp of your bra falls lax, and you automatically catch it by grasping your breasts. Zoom is watching you keenly, brows raised. “Your turn.”

“Kiss me first.” You push, he’d already given you what you’d asked for once, you’re curious to see how much more he’ll give you.

“Aren't you needy?” You catch the playful role of his eyes before he puts his lip on you, and he’s not shy about it, immediately snaring your lips in a heated, open-mouthed kiss. He kisses you with an intensity you haven’t experienced before. Your teeth scratching his tongue as he greedily tastes you, overwhelming you with his sweet taste, with the pressing of his tongue on yours and the feel of his domineering fingers on the back of your head, holding you in place.

It's like he’s consuming you. In the throes, you lose yourself, letting your bra drop before returning his embrace, moulding yourself into his torse and wrapping your arms around him. The sudden pinch of his fingers on your nipple takes you by surprise, and he rumbles appreciatively when you gasp into his mouth.

His second hand releases your head in favour of kneading your other tit, and once more he does it at such a pace that you suck in another breath, pulling back to watch as he massages your chest with unrelenting but pleasingly pressure. You chance a glance up at him and catch him watching, entranced at the way they move and ripple at his punishing touch. Selfishly, you catch his mouth again, and he lets you, closing his eyes as he enjoys your lips once more.

But the moment is short, not done playing, he grips both of your nipples at once, pulling them harshly and swallowing your pained moans, ignoring how your fingers dig into his arms until he’s satisfied.     

“Do you love that?” He asks mockingly, but his tone is low and breathy. Your eyes travel down his body, finding a noticeable tent in his suit.

“Yes.” You answer. Love might be a strong word, but it certainly made your clit throb, and you’ve already been throwing it around tonight.

“What about this?” He punctuates his question by slapping your tit, hard. The sound reverberates around the room, making your ears sting half as much as your breast. It hurts like hell but in a way that makes the rest of your body feel flushed and excited. “Huh?”

He follows it up with another hit to the other side, alternating until your back is against the kitchen counter and your cries of ‘Yes! Yes, I love it!’ sounds more like begging than praise.

When he ceases his assault, you’re abruptly overcome with dizziness. You feel light-headed and weak, and the sensation is heightened by the feel of his mouth on your skin once more. Roughly he kisses and bites at your throat, his hands forcefully grabbing at the softest parts of you. When you start to come too you realise the cause of your unexpected vertigo. With his speed he’d lifted you off your feet, stripping you of your panties and placing you at the counter where you’d be eye-to-eye level with him were he not dragging his teeth along your stomach.

Eager to appear valuable, you thread your fingers in his hair, urging him back up to kiss you again, and allowing you access to run your hand down his stomach until you’re palming the hard bulge at his crotch. He ruts against you, his chilling eyes rolling back before closing. You’re not sure how to free him, but that doesn’t stop you fumbling, looking for a clasp or a zip, anything, but the moment comes to a standstill when you both hear your phone ringing in the other room. It only distracts you for a second before you continue with the job at hand. You assume he won’t allow you to talk to anyone, to send some kind of distress message but you’re proven wrong when he holds the screen to your face.

It's Barry.

“Answer it. Put it on speaker.” Zoom tells you.

Cautiously you take the phone from him, unsure how to proceed. “But- “

“Answer it.” He repeats, prying your other hand from his clothed cock and forcing it to your chest. “You can tell him all about how you’re falling in love with somebody else another time. Just act like everything is normal.”

Still cautious, you bite your lip as you press the answer button, fingers shaking as you fiddle to put him on speaker and finally say; “Hello.”

“Hey, it’s me!” He sounds chipper, like himself. Completely unsuspicious. Why wouldn’t he be? “Sorry for the late call.”

“It’s okay. I- It’s okay…” You trail off as you watch Zoom. He’s observing your every move, but his hands are between your thighs, squeezing them as he guides them apart.

“It’s just that I texted you when I got home but didn’t hear back. So, just checking in.”

“Oh, sorry. I gOTT…” Any normality in your voice is lost when Zoom pushes a finger between your slit. “Distracted.”  

You laugh awkwardly, unsure what excuse to use, and Barry good-naturedly laughs back, unaware that Professor Zoom is now pushing a second digit between your lips, grinning like a fucking manic as he moistens them with your slick and begins gliding them over your sensitive clit. How will you ever look Barry in the eyes again?

“Yeah. I’m sorry, but I’m fine, I’m all goOOOD.” You can’t handle this. To alleviate the pressure, both mental and physical, you sit back as best you can, putting distance between you and Zoom, but it doesn’t slow him. If anything, it motivates him more.

“Are you sure? No offence but you sound a little off.” Barry couldn’t offend a- something. You can’t even finish the metaphor, because as he asks, Zoom picks up his pace, far past anything non-meta-humanly possible. His fingers act like a vibrator.

“Yes! Yeah! Yeahyeahyeah. I’m totally fine.” You blag, legs shaking as you try to temper the tension growing in your centre. Zoom’s chest shakes, not from speed, but from containing his laughter. “I’m just sooooooo tired.”

“Yeah, it is late.” Barry agrees, but he still sounds sceptical. “Listen, I won’t keep you but there is one thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

Now? Did it have to be now? Just when you thought Zoom couldn’t possibly make you feel any better, he changes things up, keeping you on your curled toes by sinking his two fingers into your tight walls. Your body puts up no resistance, greedily sucking him in, convulsing around him when he presses his thumb firmly onto your clit.

You close your eyes, intoxicated by the rush of being filled and touched by his euphoria-educing hands until he pulls back and swats your clit, bringing you back to the now. He greets you with a scowl when you open your eyes, nodding his head toward your phone where Barry is calling your name. 

“Are you still there?”

“Yes. Sorry!” You answer quickly, before you lose your bearings again. “I’m half-asleep. Can we talk at work?”

“I’d really rather do it now, I’ll make it fast.” He laughs like he made a joke, and you don’t get it.

You don’t care to get it. All you care about is whether the shoe is going to drop, and if it will happen before Zoom makes you cum all over the countertops. He reinserts his fingers inside you, but he’s thrusting in and out of you so fast you’ve no idea how deep he is at any given time. They seem to be everywhere and nowhere all at once.

When it becomes evident, you’re not going to reply, Barry continues. “That guy who stood you up today was a total jerk. Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve you.”

You’re too focused on keeping a moan trapped in your throat to even think about the vindication of Barry confirming that your date tonight was not with him.

“And I had such a good time with you.” He stops speaking, a natural opening for you to say something.

Zoom had said to act normal, so you sputter the first thing that comes to mind. “I had a good time too, Barry.” Although, you’re not convinced you sound entirely lucid as you force the words out between gritted teeth.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” God, will this phone call ever end?! “Are you sick? I thought your food looked a bit off. Do you need me to come over?”

“Yes, no. I’m fine, go on.” You urge. Already you’re impatient to hang up, but your intolerance multiplies tenfold when Zoom’s garish yellow suit disappears before your eyes. Unveiling his muscular body. Instantly your eyes are drawn to the dark blond hair on his chest, and you follow its trail down his stomach, your jaw falling slack when you eye his erection.

“Okay...” Barry still sounds dubious, but he carries on, nonetheless. “What I’m getting at is that I’d like to have dinner with you again.”

Zoom offers you reprieve, and though you’re grateful, you can’t help the anguished grunt that escapes your lips when he retracts his fingers from your needy cunt.

“Or not.” You’re only half paying attention to Barry, fixated on the way Zoom runs his length between your pussy lips as he had done with his fingers. Gliding the tip up and down, teasing your clit and entrance in turn. But having experienced what Barry is going though only hours earlier, you sense the burn of rejection in his quip.

“No. No, Barry, that was. I- I stubbed my toe.” You hurriedly tell him, practically shouting, too worked up to control your vocal cords. It’s like you’re being pulled in two different directions. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“Yeah, but on purpose. You know?” You don’t know, in that second you only know the delicious, bittersweet ache of Zoom’s cock as he gradually begins fucking into you, stretching you out no more than half an inch at a time before purposely pulling back out, making sure you feel every inch of him over and over as you keep tripping over your tongue down the phone. “Like as a date.”

Simultaneously, you both stop. Zoom watches you blankly as you begin to panic, all the fervid heat in your guts freezing over as you grasp at the frazzled straws in your brain for an answer that won’t get you killed. No? Right? The answer is ‘no’.

“Oh, Barry. I don-“ You pause when Zoom shakes his head frantically at you. You’ve never been more confused in your life, but when he starts to mouth the word ‘yes’ at you, you repeat it. “Yes. I mean yes. Yes, let’s do that.”

“Yes?” Barry repeats.

“Y-ES.” You confirm, just as Zoom returns to burying himself inside your folds, abandoning his shallow, teasing thrusts, in favourite of plunging into you completely. You feel as though you’re being split open. Heedlessly, you wail down the phone and arch your back up into his waiting arms. You don’t know if Barry is taken aback by your enthusiasm or if he simply didn’t hear you for some reason, but he says nothing, so you hastily try to excuse yourself, voice breathy and jittery as Zoom begins to rock in and out of your tight pussy. “Really excited, b-but I really sh-OULD go.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, I’ve kept you long enough. We’ll sort the details out at work?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You rush along. “We’ll talk then, bye-bye, goodnight.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, dropping your phone on the worktop and throwing your arms around Zoom. You have questions, but not one of them matters to you right now. You’re just starting to find a rhythm, supporting your weight on his sweeping shoulders so you can grind in time with him when you’re overcome with light-headedness again.

One second, you’re in his arms, and the next you’re half-laying on something soft and blinded by light.

“Look.” He commands, and you squeal when he slaps your stomach, but you force your head forward to look down at his hand, blinking until you can make out what’s going on. He’s still standing, pounding into you from above. Your ass is elevated on the arm of the couch, your back bent at an awkward angle that allows your head and shoulders to rest on the cushions. “Do you see that?”

His hand is pushing into your abdomen as he fills you over and over. You’re practically seeing stars, but through squinted eyes you make out what he’s talking about. Every time he bottoms out, your stomach bulges around the crown of his cock. You’d only ever seen this kind of stuff in porn, your head would spin if it wasn’t already.

“You ever been fucked this deep before, hon?” Zoom asks, sarcastically emphasising the pet name.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper, and you push out a strained moan before you repeat yourself at what is probably too high a volume. “No, never ever. Only you.”

“You love that?” He’s goading, but all it does is rile you up even more.

“Yes, Zz-Zoom!” You answer. He scoffs. Once again, he moves your body before you notice, hiking you further up the arm and when you feel him rut into again, you have to grab a pillow, have to let out some of the frantic energy that’s thrumming through your body. It hurts, but you love it.

“Eobard. My name is Eobard.” He tells you, far too coherently when compared to yourself. You barely register that it’s because of his superhuman abilities.

It just doesn’t feel fair that he has this power over you. To make you wither and scream, to make you feel so fucking feral with so little effort on his part. You don’t say that. You don’t even take the time to sound out his peculiar name, almost immediately murmuring it amongst a slew of desperate whimpers. “Eobard. I love it. I love it. I’m so close.”

“Not yet.” He instructs, and you dig your nails into the pillow that much harder, determined to please him. Your grip grows painful as he leans over you, his hand travelling down your chest until it cups one of your still sore tits and his face is as close to you as it can be in this position. “Look into my eyes.”

You can barely keep your lids open, but you do it as best you can. His red iris’ suddenly don’t seem so scary. Piercing, yes, but captivatingly so. You say as much, under your breath and to his great amusement. “Y-you have such striking eyes.”

Though he gets a good chuckle out of your sex-fuelled infatuation, he doesn’t dwell on it. “Do you love me?”

Do you love him? Not ‘could you love him?’ Do you love him?

No. You’re not a fool. A good fuck doesn’t equal love. You’re only fucking him in the first place to save your life, but you can’t say that. The question should instil you with fear, the same, if not more so than when you’d first discovered him lurking in your home. You certainly don’t feel safe, but fear doesn’t grip you in that moment.

“Yes.” You lie. And once the word leaves your lips, you feel your walls begin to tremble around him. Or maybe he’s trembling, moving so fast inside your drenched cunt that the climax you’ve been fighting pushes back at you, slowly trying to seep through your body. It’s impossible to tell. It takes all your willpower to hold on, and you focus your energy on insincerely professing your love to him. “I love you. I l-l-love you, Eobard.”

“Do you think Barry could fuck you this good?” He presses, sharp smile on his plump lips, knowing full well what you’ll say.

“No, no never. Only you.” You abandon the pillow, stringing your fingers in his hair so hard that he swears aloud. You’re not too far gone to not enjoy finally seeing him weak for a second, but you don’t stop appeasing him. “B-Barry could never. No Barry. Just you. I only want you.”

“I love to hear it.” His smugness only encourages you.

You nearly let loose when he moves you again, shifting you so that you’re sitting upright on the arm. You’re too faint to support yourself, so he holds you close, one hand on your waist the other on your shoulder blade, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, but you don’t have to hold back for long.

“You can cum now. Do it, cum all over my cock darlin’. Let it all out.” You do just that. Body trembling, vision blurred, fists clenched as he fucks you through it. You swear he picks up his pace, if as much is even possible given the already excessive amount of speed he’s exerting to make you lose your damn mind.

 “I love you.” You coo one more time, when you grow completely limp. Having ridden out your orgasm, his frenzied thrusting suddenly becomes painful, but not unpleasant. It wouldn’t take much at all to drive you over the edge again.

When Eobard registers your calmness, he slows. The tempo must feel relaxed to him, but to you and anybody else, he keeps hammering into you at a relatively fast pace as he loosens his hold on you, putting enough space between your forms to allow him space to lean down and kiss you. Not caste, but soft. He peppers your dazed face almost sweetly, and though he hadn’t told you at any point that he loved you, you could almost believe him if he did.

The moment doesn’t last long however, it ends when he releases you all together. You fall back onto the couch unceremoniously, and with a near-comical thud.

“My turn.” He grins. You don’t feel him pulling out of you, but you feel the force of him slamming back in, this time from an entirely different angle. With the arm no longer between you, he mounts one foot on the couch, posing your legs precariously over his.

He’s barely even fucking you at this point. More, so, fucking himself with your body, and though it feels good, good enough to lose yourself to him a second time, the fall offered you enough of a grace period that something clicks in your brain as you watch his thick cock repeatedly disappear inside your pussy.

“You-you’re not wearing protection!” You can’t see yourself, but you imagine you must look like a deer in the headlights. Eyes wide, frozen but for Eobard rocking. The sound of your bare skin slapping together suddenly seems much louder.

“What’s the matter?” He quirks his head to the side, not a care in the world for what you just said. “Don’t you wanna start a family with the man you love?”

The question short-circuits your brain. No. But yes. You do not, but you’ve been telling him whatever he wants to hear all night.

“C’mon, honey, say it.” He urges, upping the ante, and your turmoil by pressing a rapidly shaking finger to your clit. Pumping harder when your eyes go soft and glassy once more. “Go on, you’ve come this far. Beg me to put a baby in you.”

Already you’re close, too close, but you can’t find it in you to give him what he wants this time. His legs feel solid and meaty under your hands as you reach for them, slapping his shins as though you’re trying to tap out, but he doesn’t let up. Despite your reluctance, you’re whimpering so softly for him, reluctantly enjoying the infinite waves of hot tenderness that blooms in your cunt with every brush of his finger and snap of his hips.

“C’mon, c’mon, I’m almost there. You can do it.” He coaxes, and his tone is so much softer than it had been all night that it almost gives you a new form of whiplash. “Just say ‘Please Eobard, fill me up. Please make me pregnant.’ And we can both cum.”

“P-please.” You can’t believe you’re doing it, but as soon as the first word leaves your mouth, he increases the pulse on your clit. The instant gratification motivates you to carry one. “Please Eobard, fill me with your cum, I want it.”

You know you’re not saying the right words, but you don’t care, your brain is too fried to recall them.

“Good girl, you’ve got it.” Eobard praises. “Keep it up.”

“I wa-want to have your baby, please. Please cum inside me.”

“Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.” He pulls out, just enough for you to catch sight of the gooey, white cum spilling from his tip. A glob of it spills down your folds, and he rubs its warmth into your clit as he pushes his length back in. “Gonna pump you so full of cum, you’ll still be leaking on your date.”

You understand his words, but you have nothing to say. Couldn’t if you wanted to. The combination of his cock driving into you, and his fingers working your swollen bud has you blissed out. Your body is overcome with ecstasy once more, cunt milking his load for every drop as he finishes inside of you.   

The remorse of your actions doesn’t settle until he pulls out, causing his now quickly cooling cum to dribble out of your folds, running down your upturned stomach until you muster the energy to lay flat. Eobard isn’t stood beside you anymore, and your eyes search for him.

He wasn’t there a second ago, but upon your third pan of the room, you find him sitting in your armchair, sipping a glass of water. Of all the things he could have been doing right now, that wasn’t what you’d expected. You’re not convinced he won’t still kill you, but he points to a second glass on your coffee table and the doggy bag you’d brought home. You eye them wearily.

“Eat up.” He instructs. “You’re going to need your energy.”

You are hungry, but his actions still strike you as strange. When you sit up, more cum leaks from your gaping pussy, and it sends a chill up your spine. When you look at Eobard again, he’s smiling, enjoying your discomfort, maybe? Whatever the reason, he looks devastatingly good. The post-nut clarity has done nothing to cleanse your attraction to him. 

“What’s your plan?” You ask before sipping your drink. You just want to know where you stand now. Does he really expect you to date Barry? After he’d been so aggrieved by the very notion? Is he going to use you to get close to him? Or did he still plan to eradicate you long before Barry's plans come to fruition?

“My plan?” He repeats, feigning offence. “Aren’t we in love?”

It’s your turn to ask. “Do you love me?”

He laughs at your question, turning his head and rubbing his neck. No. Obviously,

“I could love you.” The closeness of his voice makes you jump. He’s moved in the blink of an eye, now sitting beside you, draping an arm across your shoulder and directing your fatigued, still naked form to rest on him. “I could fuck the woman I love in every room of her home, on every surface. I would touch every inch of her body, inside and out. In places she didn’t know could be touched. I could take every hole, till she’s bursting at the seams with my cum.”

You haven’t touched your food. How could you? Not when you’re strung up in him, hanging on his every word. So, he does it for you, ripping into the container, stabbing a cold piece of veg with the wooden takeaway fork and bringing it to your mouth. You don’t want to eat, but you do it anyway, letting him spoon-feed you until all the scraps are gone.

“Why?” You ask when he’s done. A lot of whys run through your mind, but just one answer would satiate you for the time being.

“Because…” He pauses. When you look up at him, he stares back roguishly. He’d stopped on purpose so that you were angled just right for him to kiss you. You melt into him as soon as his lips meet yours, not even shying away when his fingers possessively curl around your neck. Squeezing, not hard enough to affect your breathing, but enough to remind you that he could. When he pulls back, his eyes are half-lidded, and lust-riddled as he whispers. “I’m not just going to take your heart before Barry can. I’m going to take everything.”

Hey you! You deserve the world!

[peachetteprice]

Mister Commander | Phillip Graves

Chapter 2 - Tiger Rag

Chapter Summary:

The Collins sit down for a family meal with their new-found guest. Only, he hasn't arrived at the table as of late.

Word count: 3.3K (ish)

CW: Crass language, written by a Brit with no knowledge of Texas...

Sunday was hot. Hotter than hell's boots.

Phillip had been with the Collins - somewhat distanced - for the past week.

Every day, he would go into the woods with Winnie's father with a pocketful of cigarettes and a flask of tequila, and they'd come back in the evening with game, wild hog, deer, rabbit, fish, or any other wild animal they could get their hands on - though, much to their chagrin, Mrs. Collins refused to cook any and all of them. And every evening, as the sun continued its descent behind the hills to the East, Winnie brought an aluminum-tin full of food to Graves' doorstep.

On Sunday, however, there was none of that. Mr. Collins said it was too hot for Phillip to be staying in that 'sauna' and suggested it would be a ripe enough day to have dinner as a collective, Graves included.

Mrs. Collins didn't think herself brave enough to break the news to Winnie, however, so at six - as they took up their seats at the table - Winnie found herself staring at a bare plate and a set of cutlery that had never been there before.

"Momma... are we havin' another guest?"

"Nope. Phillip's eatin' with us tonight." Mr. Collins cleared his throat. "He'll sit there."

Winnie glanced at her father, who was too busy scratching at a rust stain on his fork to notice her ample grievance. Mrs. Collins, however, caught her eye during her round of napkin-passing and surely spotted it.

"Stop with those eyes, Winnie. Phillip Graves is a guest."

She huffed. "Sure. Phillip Graves hasn't once tried to be a guest. Every evening, I walk over to his cabin, and every evening, he slams open his door and grabs his dinner like it was a damn burden for him to even bend down--"

"--You keep those comments in your own head, little miss Collins." Mr. Collins grumbled. It was a terrible grumble, the sort of grumble only a father with waning patience could muster. "Pro'lly is a burden for him to bend down with that shoulder. That's why he's out with me most of the time... gets his mind off the wound, alright. Can't blame him for bein' anti-social."

"Can, and absolutely will for as long as he's--"

"Phillip!" Mrs. Collins exclaimed joyously, wafting a ladle as if it were an Olympic baton. "How nice of ya to join us! Gosh, I didn't even hear ya come in! Take a seat, please, get comfy. It's grilled steak and potatoes on the menu tonight."

Winnie didn't dare look him in the eye. He didn't deserve it. Not after his treatment of her own mother, refusing her cooking until it was too late in the evening to eat it comfortably.

It was too easy to recall her mother's flustered state, scrounging like a rat in a pantry for cutlery and crockery - not forgetting the can of Cola - only for Winnie to bring it to his doorstep as if she was his servant.

As if it wasn't thirty-two steps from his door to their front porch and another twelve to the kitchen.

Even after he sat, she paid him no mind. No attention. Only once did her eyes cross his path, in passing, and as soon as they did, they promised never to meet it again.

"Hot outside, ain't it? Inside, too..." Mr. Collins licked sheepishly at a glass of Scotch.

Winnie, wine.

Graves, beer.

"Sure is." Graves leant against the table.

Winnie felt the wood tilt beneath her elbows - she wrenched both arms into her lap instead.

"Wonderin' where Bonnie is with the food..." Mr. Collins hummed. "Gonna have to move the sheep to the East field at some point... got a Chevy needin' repairs in the barn, too." His lips smacked after every sentence. "You gon' help me with that, Phillip?"

"Bastard, makin' me do all that shit that I don't wanna do..." He scoffed.

Mr. Collins raked with laughter.

Winnie didn't watch it happen, of course, but she heard it - a button popped. Another sliver of Graves' sternum appeared into view, beneath his blue cotton shirt. A sparse number of hairs tickled his chest, though he was mostly bare.

If she didn't have such a kink in her eyebrows, she might have noticed the better half of his looks. The way the evening sun caught his tan. The way it grabbed him by the hollow of his cheeks. The way it caught the strands of blonde in his hair and turned them golden.

"Where's Momma with the food? I'm starvin..." Winnie swallowed half of her wine glass in just two gulps. "Y'know, I can help ya with the sheep, Daddy--"

"--When d'ya need 'em movin' then? Next week?"

Winnie clawed at her table mat. She clobbered a mean silence.

"No rush. Few weeks." Mr. Collins shrugged. He then delved a pinky into his ear canal and gave it a twist. "You say somethin', Winnie? You know I can't hear well out of my right. Those IEDs pack a punch, don't they, Phil?"

"Sure do." He approved.

Winnie watched Graves' chest inflate with a breath - though nothing much above - then, after a few seconds, deflate.

"Doesn't matter, Daddy. I was just... I can help ya with the sheep if you need it."

"Why don't you and Graves do it together? Now, there's a million-dollar idea. Y'ever wrangled sheep before, Phil?"

His groan suggested he had never.

Then, and only then, did Winnie decide to gaze at his face. And, much to her bafflement, he was already watching her right back. Hazel blues, pierced and primed for her stern attitude to dissolve. Even still, he didn't much acknowledge her, for what it was worth. His eyes moved across, up, then somewhat down, before they cast off entirely to the right, where they narrowed with lust.

And, with a tight jaw, he whistled. "Ouch-- Bonnie - those steaks are lookin' fine. God, I've missed your cookin'."

"Who would'a guessed..." Winnie chided, much too suddenly and quietly for anyone to hear, except Graves. Whether he understood what she was referring to at all was beyond her level of care.

The table sparked with conversation once everyone had had their fill.

All four beef steaks had since disappeared, leaving a bloodied puddle of juice on the plate from whence they came. The remaining potatoes had been set aside for potato salad for the next day's lunch, and a mound of grits collected a crust in the bottom of the pan. To set delight along Mrs. Collins' lips (she was never much of a grits connoisseur, having grown up in Georgia), Mr. Collins went about churning spoonful of it into his stomach.

And when he'd finally exhausted the room in his pouch, to the extent of unbuttoning his jeans and making his shirt slack, he stood to help his wife swap the dishes out for dessert.

Chestnut pie - picked straight from the woods. Mrs. Collins hadn't ceased about how perfectly they'd behaved when grinding them down for butter. It was a stunning pie. Caramel brown; it steamed as she segmented it carefully, slice after slice, into equal triangles so as to not spoil anyone's temperament.

It was such a lavish dinner that, as they silently indulged in the woody scent of baked chestnuts and the sharpness of fresh dollopped cream on top, Winnie had forgotten what she'd sworn to herself earlier that evening.

As the spoon hit her tongue, her gaze meandered. Up, up, up, and right to rest on a vein along Graves' forearm. She hadn't known how firm they were - not that it should have been a very common thing to notice - until then, when the sun had dipped beyond its reach and simmered the dining room in all manners of orange.

It made the valleys, the rivers, and the streams of his arms appear taught, free-flowing with blood. The veins coasted about his skin as if they had been eroding him for millenia. When they dipped past his wrist and over the mound of his knuckles, they split into brooks and disappeared along his fingertips.

How a man of his calibre - his age, no doubt - could boast such raw beauty - of such a vexing degree - similar to that of the crests, peaks, troughs, basins, and gorges of her life in Texas, was simply astounding.

So astounding, in fact, that for all of three minutes, Winnie hadn't mouthed a word. Not a peep from her lips until the ambling drone of her father cut through the static, muffled laughter ensued, and her mother asked, as clear as the glass in the greenhouse;

"Phillip. When are you going to get a wife, already? You're eating us outta house and home every time you come 'round."

Winnie was back before she knew it, before she'd even taken her eyes off that one pesky vein on Graves' arm and before she'd even gained control over her eyes and the aching kink in her neck from staring him down for the better half of Al Green's Love and Happiness.

He raised his glass. "It's cause you're a damn fine cook, Bonnie. Can't get away from ya. I love a woman who can fix together steak and grits like it's the last meal she'll ever make."

Winnie smiled. She'd finally clued in, eyes lighting with recognition that wasn't present earlier - and it was best to be genial. "That's momma, for ya. She loves her food."

"Yeah, and it doesn't like my waistline..."

Mr. Collins, naturally, began his tirade that his wife was just as, if not more, beautiful as the day they'd met. Mrs. Collins, on the other hand, perked with laughter and gave him a coy clap across the chest.

Then, for at least forty seconds, maybe longer, the pair of them were cutthroat for the matter of humility. Mr. Collins chided that Mrs. Collins was as dainty as a daisy in a field, which she denied, and Mrs. Collins insisted that Mr. Collins was as dependable as the statue of Adam, which he also denied, and neither seemed to want to relent any time soon.

It was a plain argument, the stuff nobody would tip a pot over.

So they jousted for a while, as Graves and Winnie scraped the last of their pies. In good time, when Mr. and Mrs. Collins had at last come to the conclusion that neither was more or less stunning than the other, did Graves, beneath the commotion, ask;

"You cook much, Winnie?"

For the second time only that evening, Winnie met his gaze. Something inside it felt inviting - if only he had that glint in his eye on the porch last week. Perhaps it was the first time he'd extended an olive branch - it was certainly the first time he'd addressed her solely - but nothing about the depth of his eyes felt insincere, nor disinterested, nor anything malicious of the sort.

It was the kind of gaze that might have liked to be explored.

"No... no, not much, sir." She murmured.

"Sir?" He retorted, light as a feather. And then, with much raucousness, laughed to her father and asked, "You got her to call me sir, Steve? You're that much of a little shit to your own daughter, huh?"

"You're a veteran in my books, Graves," Mr. Collins took a healthy glug of Scotch to wet his throat, even if he had to give it a minute for the burn to settle, "a good woman has to know her manners."

"Manners?" Phillip scoffed.

Winnie slid out a smile, if only for the fact that her father had a smear of cream along his chin. "I know my manners just fine, don't I, Daddy?"

"Do ya?" Graves uttered. He didn't bother to meet her emphatic stare. Instead, he pawed and scraped at the mushed remains of his chesnut pie, wolfing it down like a starved man - as if he hadn't gorged himself on steak and potatoes prior to dessert.

Seconds trickled by as the ever-so-ignorant Mr. Collins turned to Mrs. Collins for a napkin - so that he might wipe the whipped cream from his face - at which point, Graves snuck once more into conversation, with a voice so hushed it could have only been meant for one person, "Might wanna teach a woman to knock a lil' quieter..."

It was the sort of comment her Daddy couldn't have heard.

So, Winnie's gaze flickered up. Not so far up that she met his face - she didn't want to make it the third - but not so far down that her eyes chased that one vein beneath his sleeve. Safe enough between the two extremes that, from the tilt of his chin, she could tell: his eyes were on her.

It seemed, after a while, that service was not over. Pie had been gorged on, sure, but conversation trickled as it had done for hours, with no end in sight. It had been so long at the dinner table that, much to Mrs. Collins' future disagreement, the remaining chesnut pie had lost its warmth, the whipped cream had since deflated and ran liquid, and, even still, nobody had realised the faucet was running from before dinner had initially been brought out.

"You never said, Winnie. What did y'do before comin' back here?" Graves sipped at his Scotch. There was a pool of condensation beside him, that he wouldn't touch with a napkin. If his glass wasn't sliding across the table, he wouldn't drink from it.

"Worked up in Dallas. Lived there, too. Used to be a financial accountant, you know, dealin' with numbers."

Graves stuck a thumb into Steve's face. "Like your Daddy after he retired from the field? You take after him pretty good. Heard ya... heard y'had a boyfriend or somethin' back there, too? Things turn' sour?"

"Not... not sour. Things... just happened." She corrected, stabbing a few asparagus onto her fork. "He tried me, once. Y'know how it is... never turned back after the second time."

"An' he let a pretty lil' thing like you get away?" An eyebrow twitched; he reached for another swig of scotch. Winnie would have said something, perhaps, if his tone wasn't so dismissive, and if he hadn't rushed right along the connotations. "You'll have suitors around the block for you in no time. Ain't that right, Bonnie? You were a bit-of-a catch in your day."

"Still is." Mr. Collins elbowed Graves.

"I am not." Bonnie caught a hand at her hip. "But, I admit, you should'a seen me ten years ago. You would'a had a go at me, too, Graves--"

He scoffed, holding his hands in mock defeat. "--You know what, I just might have done."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't've." He clapped a hand on Graves shoulder. The good one - he knew better than to kick a man when he was down. "I'm glad our Winnie took after Bonnie, here. Wouldn't wanna be chasin' a man down with this face."

Graves chuckled. "Yeah, cause they'd be runnin' the other way--"

"--You shut your mouth." Mr. Collins slapped the back of Graves' head.

The table was quiet for some time as the raucousness died. Only after a few minutes did someone say something, and like most times before it, that person was Phillip Graves.

"So, you take after your mother, Winnie?" Though he was still reeling from his laughter, shoulders sagging with every beat of amusement.

"No, I--"

Bonnie, mid-scoop of pie, wildly thrust the ladle toward Winnie. "--She does. Won't let her deny it. Wants to, 'cause she thinks she ain't pretty, but she takes after me!"

"Alright." She chuckled. "Momma says I look like her when she was young." Winnie shrugged. "Though she says my hair ain't as curly and my nose ain't the right shape--"

"--And she doesn't have my gums. She has her father's gums."

Winnie snorted. "Yeah. Daddy's gums, momma's... teeth, supposedly."

Graves shrugged. "Whatever gets y'there..."

Mr. Collins asked for another round of pie, next, even if she explained that it had long gone cold and the cream was flat - but there was too much left and he didn't want it causing Bonnie any upset - and they went circling the table for another few rounds of red wine, beer, and scotch (whatever matched their penchant), until they'd all but exhausted the modicum of vacancy in their stomachs, collectively slumping back into their chairs as the delirium of late-evening settled in.

That was, until, after some time - wishing to crack open a window and get to washing up - Mrs. Collins clamboured from her seat. "Well, I better start gettin' some of these dishes in before the sauce crusts down."

"I'll help ya with that, Bonnie," Graves stood.

Winnie stood after him, catching his curiosity. He was busy hoisting the belt of his trousers after being sat for so long, and stretched out his shoulders like her father did when it was time to dust the house.

"Sit." Winnie chimed. "Guests are guests. I'll help ya, Momma."

Mrs. Collins glanced between the two of them - it was a feast for her eyes. "Goodness. Well, one a' you help me!"

"Y'want me to sit around while you ladies clean the table? Can't do that. My Momma raised me better." Graves held his hands on his hips, half-intent on sliding plates along plates, and cutlery over those same plates - the sort of passive-aggressiveness Winnie despised from a man.

"Yes." She swatted his hand away, catching a twinge of provocation. "Now, sit."

Mr. Collins whistled. "You better just si'down, Phillip. She's got a temper on her like nothin' you've ever seen. Worse than her mother."

To which, Mrs. Collins shouted back from the kitchen, a muffled but audible, 'I heard that!'

By nine, Winnie regretted even opening her mouth. The exponential pile of dishes that stretched from one end of the kitchen to the other could have rivalled that of a hoarder's. For one meal for four people, out of the three that she'd cooked that day, she managed to use a mandolin and each of its attachments, of which there were six. Crinkle cut, straight cut, slivers, chunks, thin slices, and thick slices.

And all were a bitch to clean.

Winnie was on the 'slivers' attachment when she heard footsteps at the door. "Momma, how'd ya manage to use this many appliances? I'm half expecting the coffee machine to appear outta nowhere..."

A gruff voice replied - one she'd learned the sound of, though didn't like to hear. "Sorry, sweetheart. I ain't y'Momma."

"Well, can ya get her, please? I wanna ask how she managed to use both of our Dutch ovens." She gestured wildly at them on the drying rack; soapy water dribbled down the ankle of her gloves. "Seriously. How does one woman use both of 'em for beef steaks, potatoes, grits, and chestnut pie..."

Graves chuckled, and soon, he was beside the drying rack, back against the cupboards, towel in hand, swiping away the remnants of water.

"Thought my Daddy told you to si'down."

"Your Daddy's out back, choppin' wood for Bonnie's kiln, although I ain't seen her use it in years." He arranged the dinner plates into a neat stack. "And I'm sick of smellin' the remnants of dinner when I could be helpin'."

"Well - thank you, but I don't need your help."

"I know that." He dried another plate, and added it to the pile.

Was this some sort of a challenge?

A moment's silence, then; "Y'got a hair in your eyes."

"I know that." She spat his words right back, huffing the piece of hair away, just for it to fall back against her nose. "Damned... thing."

Graves dried his hands and hooked the rag over his belt. "C'mere. I got it." He reached for the strand, and Winnie paused with bated breath, waiting until he'd hooked it over her ear before she inhaled, lest she catch a whif of his cologne. "There ya go."

"Thanks." She mumbled, though it came out more like a disgruntled slur - because she couldn't quite get over the softness of his fingertips against her temple.

| Chapter Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[psu-misc]

Truth or Dare!

TRUTH

What’s your biggest regret to date?

Which PSU couple do you think can go the distance?

Which PSU couple do you think is most likely to break up?

Who is someone you’d like to get closer to in the new year?

What advice would you give to your younger self?

What’s something that you need to work on?

Are you a good person?

Would you rather cross a bridge or burn it?

How many hearts do you think you’ve broken?

How many times has your heart been broken?

Who, at PSU, would you like to kiss?

If you could be a part of another PSU family, which would it be and why?

Have you ever stolen something from a friend’s house?

What’s a skill you’ve always wanted to learn, but haven’t?

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

DARE

Tell _______ how you really feel about them.

Tell _______ where you see them in five years.

Text each of your exes and tell them something kind.

Text your current crush something that they need to work on.

Give a personalized insult to _______.

Tell _______ a secret that you haven’t shared with anyone else.

Text someone in your phone contacts and try to flirt with them.

Send a nude to ______.

Post an extremely unflattering picture of yourself to the social media outlet of your choosing.

Text “I love you” to someone already in a relationship.

Take _______ out on a date.

Add all of your exes into a group chat and ask what went wrong.

Post your last 5 Google searches.

Make a post on social media professing your love for ________.

Scroll through your phone contacts and stop on one at random; call them and make animal noises with no explanation.

Feel free to reblog this on as many characters as you'd like; if you do, please be sure to send asks to others so we can all participate in the fun!

[hurpdurpburps]

My Comprehensive Otherside Picnic Pilgrimage Destination List Pt. 1

This is by no means a complete collection but rather something I put together out of curiosity/an investigative itch, so feel free to add your thoughts or personal findings in the replies/reblogs. I'll be returning to Tokyo in January for a couple weeks and might cut out a few days to do an OP pilgrimage of sorts, so this is mostly for my own purposes that I'm happy to share with whoever's interested. I should note here that a good number of these places have closed for good, but I decided to keep them in the list for documentation.

Hunger Warning: There's a lot of food mentioned.

Spoiler Warning: Events up to Vol 8 are mentioned.

Word Count Warning: Some parts contain pretty lengthy commentary, mainly from my personal observations and experiences.

1. Saitama University

To be fair, Sorawo's college has only been referred to as "a university in Saitama" but I think Saitama University is undeniably the most obvious candidate.

Descriptions of the university's distance from the area's major train station (Omiya) and the one closest to it (Minami-Yono) are a dead giveaway, but the anime also did a cheeky wordplay (埼玉大学 > 犀玉大学, but both are read as Saitama University).

Unlike the real Saitama University cafeteria, however, the anime added more colour to its version because the all-white of the IRL place makes it feel like a depressing hospital food court more than anything.

2. Sophia University While not explicitly named as such, it's clear that Toriko attends Sophia University from the description that Sorawo gave in Vol 5. Even the description of the Yotsuya campus facilities on the official website fits to a tee:

The university Toriko attended was right by Yotsuya Station on the Chuo Line.

I’d read up on places to eat on campus during the train ride here. Two cafeterias, and two cafés, I think? Oh, and a convenience store too.

The cafeteria I was heading to was on the fifth floor.

When I was leaving the cafeteria, I spotted some stairs off to the side. It looked like there was outdoor seating. The building was L-shaped, and the five-story section that jutted out from the rest had terrace seating on the roof.

Ngl, I'm feeling a little cheated of my college experience... My alma mater is of a similar ranking (if not even higher) to Sophia but our campus had pretty terrible food options. Four years of 7-11/Family Mart because I was too lazy to exit my faculty building for lunch break, but also partly because the one time I went all the way to my campus cafeteria at the begging of my then-crush and I thought the food was pretty lame (or at least not worth the cross-campus trek). We also don't have a terrace T-T

Also here, I just want to make a personal note on how fitting it feels to me for Toriko to be attending Sophia, and studying English Literature no less. Tokyo has no lack of famous 'elite' or 'fashionable' universities but each has its own unique sort of branding/stereotype and tbh I can't see someone like her fitting in any of the others. Not to mention the fact that she's already silently drowning at Sophia (socially, at least).

The gate that led on to the main street was wide open and no one asked to see student ID at the entrance.

It was Tuesday. Just a perfectly ordinary day of the week. It was almost noon, so there were a lot of people walking around. I blended into the crowd, effortlessly infiltrating the campus.

Japanese schools are so notorious for their lack of security, perhaps due to complacency from the general safety. My university had closed twice during my years as a student due to bomb threat emails (both times conveniently around finals lol). Depending on what's going on in the world or country, there'd also be a wave of annoying crazies yelling into their megaphones around campus campaigning for God-knows-what from time to time.

3. KOGA Seibu Ikebukuro (皇雅西武池袋店)

This is the Chinese congee restaurant our Troubled Trio visited in Vol 3 after the events of the Kotoribako. Unfortunately it seems to have closed for good but you can still see old reviews and photos on their Tablelog page.

We talked it over, and came to the conclusion that rice porridge might be good, so Toriko, Kozakura, and I had come to a Chinese rice porridge place inside the Ikebukuro Seibu department store.

I kinda laughed imagining 2 college kids and an early-30s tiny woman sticking out like a sore thumb among all the other tables:

It was afternoon on a weekday, the place was at maybe 40% of capacity, and everyone there but us were old ladies.

Discovered thanks to this guy on Twitter (also Miyazawa follows him so he might be somebody...?)

Feeling a little sad because I used to live in Toshima-ku. If I'd discovered OP a couple years earlier I could've tried out their food. I'm kinda picky about Chinese food in Japan but this place looks pretty good.

Some language and culture trivia:

We had come on the simple idea that you eat rice porridge when your stomach’s not doing so well, but this place had a food therapy menu managed by the traditional Chinese medicine pharmacy next door, so it felt like it might really work for us.

薬膳 (yakuzen, or yao shan in Mandarin) is the term used in the Japanese version of the novel, referring to medicinal cuisine. The more general idea of food therapy (食疗) is a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) concept dating back to probably the beginning of Chinese civilisation.

The TLDR of TCM principles is the belief in healing/nourishing of the body through naturally imbuing herbs and hence their medicinal properties in one's regular diet. Probably also where the Chinese belief of "以形补形" (nourishing what you eat) comes from, such as eating some kinda tendon stew if you sprained an ankle to make it heal faster, or whatever.

Figuring I should take the opportunity to try a type of tea I hadn’t drank before, I ordered kantoucha. Toriko went for sanzacha, and Kozakura had maikacha.

せっかくなので飲んだことのないお茶を頼んでみようと思って、私は冠藤茶にした。鳥子は山査茶、小桜は玫瑰茶。

Sorawo and gang probably didn't know what these plants were because Chinese hanzi were used for the menu names instead of their Japanese counterparts. I've omitted the "-cha" suffix below as it simply means "tea" and is pronounced the same way in both Mandarin and Japanese:

Kantou/冠藤 = "Crown Vine" (hanyu pinyin: guan teng).

As a Chinese kid who grew up surrounded by TCM, even I had to scratch my head for this one and boy, researching it was a hell of a rabbit hole. Apparently "Crown Vine" is the polite name for "Chicken Blood Vine" (鸡血藤), which not only sounds nasty but looks nasty (risky click - don't say I didn't warn you).

Here's what Wikipedia says about this peculiar plant's medicinal properties:

有行血补血，调经，舒经活络的功效，其药用来源为豆科植物密花豆的藤茎。本品苦、微甘，温。归肝、肾经。

"It has the effects of promoting blood circulation, replenishing blood, regulating menstruation, and relaxing meridians. This herb is sourced from the vine stem of the legume Spatholobus Suberectus. It is bitter, slightly sweet, and warm in nature. It belongs to the liver and kidney meridians."

Meridians (经络) are a pseudo-scientific concept that still holds a lot of weight in the TCM world, and also popularly butchered in historical/wuxia (武俠) pop media. You can read the Wikipedia page here for more information.

As for my kantoucha, it had a light flavor, and was surprisingly easy to drink.

Yeah buddy... Hope you liked it at least. Sounds a bit too wild for me.

Sanza/山査 = Hawthorn (hanyu pinyin: shan zha).

The Japanese language does not have a kanji for hawthorn, and the plant is instead represented by a katakana reading of the Mandarin pronunciation (サンザ).

Toriko took a sip of her sanzacha, which turned out to be bittersweet.

Not sure why hawthorn tea is bitter. Never had it myself but I ate a lot of candied hawthorn and hawthorn flakes as a kid and it's pretty sour-ish before being processed with sugar.

Maika/玫瑰 = Rose (hanyu pinyin: mei gui).

The Japanese word for rose is most commonly バラ in katakana, or very rarely 薔薇 in kanji.

You might notice that the Japanese and Mandarin readings of these words sound somewhat similar - that is due to the on'yomi. On'yomi is partly the reason why native Chinese speakers (like myself) pick up Japanese more easily than other language speakers (barring Korean).

Due to the long history of cross-cultural exchanges within Asia, many regional languages have, to a certain extent, Sino-roots. Verbally, Korean and Japanese share many similarities with older, southeastern Chinese dialects Cantonese and Hokkien, due to Guangdong and Fujian being bustling ports/trade hubs of the past. Knowledge of Cantonese helped me greatly when I was taking Korean classes taught in Japanese (my 6th and very new language at the time - like I barely knew how to ask for the nearest restroom kinda new).

It's also why we have the hanzi (汉字) - kanji (漢字) - hanja (한자) trifecta - all three mean "Chinese characters", denoting their written linguistic legacy from imperial Han China through the centuries.

Mine was the two-color rice porridge set with crab rice porridge and chicken rice porridge. Mmm, it had a gentle flavor. The salt was used sparingly, so I was grateful that it came with ebi chili and pickled Sichuan vegetables on a separate plate.

Toriko, perhaps wanting something meatier, had gone for the kakuni pork rice porridge set. The big bowl of rice porridge with kakuni pork, bok choy, and goji berry came with a separate bowl of wonton soup. Kozakura had the yamucha set, which came in a bamboo basket, and the boiled gyoza and shumai were letting off steam.

"Yamucha" here is the incorrect katakana-derived romanisation of "飲茶" (lit. "drink tea"). Pronounced as "yum cha" in Cantonese, the term simply means "going for dim sum". You might be wondering - what's the difference between dim sum and yum cha then? Dim sum is a noun referring to food specifically, while yum cha is a verb/event/action.

Eg. You can say "Let's go yum cha" or "Let's eat dim sum" but you don't say "Let's eat yum cha".

Also I love how Toriko manages to piss off Kozakura every time she opens her mouth so effortlessly lmao.

“What is maikacha? I can’t even imagine.” “I don’t know, either, but it said it was supposed to help suppress irritation.” “That certainly does seem like a good fit for you, Kozakura.” “Yeah, I’m feeling irritated at this very moment. I hope it comes soon.”

4. JUNKUDO Ikebukuro (ジュンク堂書店 池袋本店)

The bookstore frequently visited by Sorawo, and also the IRL collaboration partner of the series. Miyazawa recently held an in-person interview and livestream session at the Ikebukuro flagship store with his editor for the launch of Vol 9, where they also shared a lot of unpublished/uncommissioned art by Shirakaba (see this amazing post for screenshots).

It's also the only place I know of that carries signed copies of the novels. As of yesterday (5th July 2024), signed copies are still available at Shelf 41 (the Hayakawa section) on the 3rd floor. How do I know this? Because I begged my friend to pop by Ikebukuro and pick up a couple for me ;___;

Phone and online reservations for the signed copies are not allowed, and it's limited to one book per volume per person. Go get it while it's hot.

I recorded the livestream as Junkudo's archives were only up for like a week. I can share the recording if anyone asks me for it but the livestream is entirely in Japanese so YMMV.

5. Cafe Pause Ikebukuro

The cafe where Sorawo and Toriko had their first falling out over the search for Satsuki (File 4 - Time, Space, and a Middle-Aged Man).

Miyazawa even made an acknowledgement tweet.

I guess the business really liked being featured in this series because the anime replaced a bunch of other locations in the other files with this one place.

The cafe also hosted an 8-part promotional series featuring the two main voice actors called Otherside Special Activity Report (裏世界トクベツ活動報告) where they did some light meta-commentary and even tried holding guns featured in the series.

It's also right behind Junkudo so I guess it's a great pilgrimage combo if you're in the neighbourhood.

"We were in the cafe behind the Junkudo bookstore in Ikebukuro, where we’d gone after meeting up. Toriko was enthusiastically trying to discuss plans for our next expedition when I spoke up."

Here's their website and Instagram if you're interested.

6. Italian Tomato Café Jr. Ikebukuro West Entrance (イタリアン・トマト Café Jr. 池袋西口店)

This is where Sorawo, Toriko and Akari had a little chat before getting ambushed by feline assassins (File 7 - Attack of the Ninja Cats). There's a few Italian Tomato Cafes in the area, but this best matches what the novel says:

When I headed for the underground plaza by the Metropolitan entrance of JR Ikebukuro Station, Akari Seto spotted me first and was waving her arms.

Together with Toriko, who protested, Why not? Isn’t that kinda mean?, we got aboard the elevator that went above ground.

A standard chain cafe/restaurant type of thing, convenient for when you're peckish, if nothing else. NGL tho I am a big fan of Japanese family-restaurant style pasta.

Website here if you wish to know more about the chain.

7. Bali-An Resort Shinjuku (ホテルバリアンリゾート新宿)

Ah yes, the fabled love hotel in the lore of OP (File 16 - Pontianak Hotel). A quick Google search for "Kabukicho Bali love hotel" gives you not one but four results in Kabukicho alone. I guess business is booming.

Unfortunately, none of their exteriors matches the novel's description:

The facade of the building was stone (or aesthetic paneling designed to look like it, maybe) and used spotlights to give it a high-class image. The building was surrounded with greenery, exotic sculptures, and flowers, along with architecture that evoked the southern seas.

The walls shielding the entrance from view were the barely love hotel-y thing about it, but even those walls were gaudy, covered as they were in ivy and colorful flowers.

However, Bali-An Resort Shinjuku (the first one) has a word-for-word match with the interior description for one of its rooms. There's even a dedicated section for girls' party (女子会) packages on their website.

Here's a 360-degree view of the Royal Garden room (ロイヤルガーデンタイプ).

The first thing to catch my eye inside this room that was decorated in earthy tones were two canopied double beds in the back. Hibiscus petals were scattered over the top of their white blankets. Next to the wall there were two black leather massage chairs. In the front of the room was an L-shaped sofa and a wooden table. The table had a silver bucket of ice placed on top of it with a bottle of wine sticking out. Along the wall there was a mini-fridge, and a shelf with a microwave, and on top of that shelf was a large TV surrounded by a bamboo frame. It currently showed nature footage from Bali. There was the sound of the waves rolling in and out, and gamelan music played at a subdued volume.

“Lookie, lookie! There’s a sauna!” Akari shouted, looking through the door to the side of us that she had opened. Beyond it was a washroom with a selection of amenities including face wash, face lotion, and face masks. Across from the sink was a large dry sauna that had room for two.

Toriko walked in, pushing the bathroom door open. The tub was made of black stone, and was an almost round heart-shape, or maybe more of a peach-shape, and it was large enough it seemed to cry out “get in me together.”

None of the lobbies match the novel's description, but here it is anyway:

There were couches scattered around a lobby with dark-colored flooring, and lines of decorative plants as tall as a person. The space was softly illuminated with spotlights and indirect lighting, and a languid Balinese gamelan piece served as background music interspersed with the sounds of water and birdsong. Was this aroma foreign incense, perhaps?

For a gigantic room with two beds, massage chairs, room service, a huge ass bathtub, large couch + TV area, sauna and free amenities, 26,800 yen is honestly a steal, especially when you consider it's right smackdab in the heart of Shinjuku. I'd totally stay at this place bruh.

8. Jimbōchō Book Town (神田神保町古書街)

Jinbocho is the neighbourhood that houses the building with the elevator that leads to the skeletal building entrance on Otherside. The area is served by a couple of stations but Sorawo and Toriko reached via Ochanomizu station.

Book Town is one of the more classic 'old school Tokyo' locations favoured by fans of literature. It's a treasure trove for people who love hunting for secondhand books. It's no wonder why Sorawo is familiar with the area.

I have no idea which specific building that houses the elevator is supposed to be, but my guess is this one - it's the only one I could find that appears to match the description in Vol 1.

"The place Toriko led me to was a building in Jinbouchou. It was a tall, thin building with a bunch of shops in the back of Book Town. Ten floors in total."

If I'm right then it would be really funny as the building is literally called Jinbocho building (神保町ビル) lmao.

Book Town used to be a pretty lively (or as lively as a secondhand book district could be anyways) locale but COVID-19 unfortunately caused many of these legacy businesses to shut down, so now it's a lot quieter. I'm not sure how long this street will last so if you ever visit Tokyo I do strongly recommend visiting it, if only for the vibes.

Wikipedia has a pretty good summary of the rich history of this area.

Book Town also has its own website that carries a great deal of information if you're planning on visiting.

9. Shosen Grande (書泉グランデ)

The flagship store of the Shosen bookstore chain, located near Jinbocho station. Sorawo waited here for Toriko before their second venture into the Otherside together (File 2 - Hasshaku-sama Survival).

It's hella huge with seven floors - and apparently also a popular shopping location for weeb/otaku merch. This is the official floor guide on their website.

10. Maison c

The quaint little wine bar near Junkudo Ikebukuro where Sorawo and Toriko had a rather gloomy dinner after the Ninja Cat saga (File 8 - Little Bird in a Box).

We were at a wine bar near the Junkudo in Ikebukuro. It was the middle of the week, but the dimly lit establishment was filled with customers. In one corner of a place where there were young couples having a lively time, we were having a quiet after-party of our own.

Definitely a cosy little spot, if their Instagram is anything to go by.

11. Meat Bar Modavaca (ニクバル モダ・バッ��)

The steak place near Shakujii-kōen station where Kozakura brought Toriko and Sorawo to shortly after events of the kidnapping (File 12 - The Matter of that Farm).

Unfortunately it seems this place has also closed for good, but the location, menu, prices and other information from their Tablelog page and Instagram perfectly matches the description given in Vol 4:

We entered a bar and grill that was conveniently open all day and started off with rosé wine, even though it was still bright out. I’d never thought of rosé as anything more than “that kinda pinkish sweet stuff,” but the taste of it was crisper than I had expected, and I liked it. Next, we ordered prosciutto, flame-seared meat sushi, and red wine. We had the staff cook us some expensive meat that cost 2,000 yen per hundred grams, and devoured the steaks after watching them sizzle on a hot iron grill.

It was already evening outside. As I watched the people being spewed out of the station one after another, I caught myself unconsciously searching for that woman in the crowd.

12. Kitchen Nankai Jinbocho (キッチン南海 神保町店)

The "Western food" (洋食) place Sorawo and Toriko visited for a quick builder's lunch in Vol 6 (File 20 - T is for Templeborn).

This is actually a pretty famous spot, so much so that it even has its own page as a Chiyoda-ku attraction. Most famous for their black curry.

Settling on a place that served Western-style dishes, we joined the salarymen and construction workers for a hearty meal.

I should note that there's a bit of missing nuance here. The original Japanese text is as such:

あんまり気取らない感じの洋食屋を選んで、スーツ姿のサラリーマンや工事の作業員に交ざって、がっつりボリュームのある定食を食べた。

The bolded part roughly translates to "We chose a rather unpretentious Western restaurant...", with 'unpretentious' in this context referring to a place that doesn't feel very conscious/fussy about attire/appearance. This part is entirely omitted in the English version.

I don't think it's a big deal per se, but it's the inclusion of small details like that which adds flourish to Miyazawa's writing, and it's kind of a pity when they get missed out like that.

There's also a slight mistranslation here:

I ordered tonkatsu curry with a black roux and lots of cheese, while Toriko had roasted flounder with ginger. We scarfed down a whole bunch of chopped cabbage and white rice on top of that and headed back to the elevator with our bellies full.

The corresponding Japanese text is as follows:

私は真っ黒なルーにチーズのたっぷりかかったカツカレー、鳥子はヒラメのカツと生姜焼き。キャベツの千切りと白いご飯をわしわし搔き込んで、お腹パンパンでエレベーターに乗った。

The bolded part states "flounder katsu and shougayaki", which actually means a piece of breaded, deep fried flounder, with pork stir-fried in ginger sauce on the side.

True enough, there is a dish called "fried flounder shougayaki rice" (ひらめフライ生姜焼きライス) according to the real restaurant's Tablelog page. Here's a review of the restaurant featuring multiple photos of the dish.

13. Keio Plaza Hotel Shinjuku

Explicitly stated as the location of the First Anniversary Dinner in Vol 7 (File 22 - Toilet Paper Moon).

The buffet that our fav girls stuffed their faces at is the Glass Court Super Buffet, located on the 2nd floor. Looks pretty spankin' and swanky if you ask me.

“The buffet here’s on the second floor. I told you, you don’t need to get all worked up about this.”

I'm omitting the novel's lengthy descriptions of the food out of mercy to us all.

The second half of the night takes place at the Aurora Sky Lounge on the 45th floor.

Fun fact: I ran into a bit of confusion looking up this place due to a translation error in the English version lol.

“I hear there’s a lounge on the fourth floor here.” “A lounge…?” “It’s got a night view and you can drink there.”

There's a Cocktail & Tea Lounge on the 3rd floor but I'm not sure what kinda night view you can get apart from dirty concrete in a city jam-packed with skyscrapers lol. A quick check against the original proved my hunch about the mistranslation was right.

「ここ、四十五階にラウンジがあるんだって」 「……ラウンジ？」 「夜景が見えて、お酒が飲めるとこ」

14. Charcoal-Grill Yakiniku Gyurakutei (炭火焼肉 牛楽亭)

In the anime-special episode 10, our little gang went for some good ol' grilled beef.

It's a little up in the air about how accurate this one is. There is only one place called 韓国炭火焼肉 牛楽亭 (lit. "Korean Charcoal-Grill Yakiniku Gyurakutei") in Tokyo, located in the Shinjuku section of Iidabashi that has since shut down.

The restaurant name might be an off-brand reference to Anrakutei (安楽亭), which is an affordable yakiniku chain around Tokyo. There's one in Ikebukuro and another in Shinjuku. But cheap places tend to use electric grills instead of charcoal, so... idk bro.

15. Omiya Ichibangai (大宮一番街)

The place where it all started - when Sorawo discovered a gate to the Otherside on a random day in April.

In contrast to the west side of the station, where further development had yielded large buildings, the east side was still a sprawling town of small buildings and multi-tenant buildings, the same as it had ever been. It was on the east side, on the corner where two narrow streets met, that I came to a stop. Pachinko parlors, ramen restaurants, taverns, parking lots… In between the various assorted buildings of the shopping arcade, there were many shops with their shutters lowered. Their signs had been taken down, and nothing was posted out front, so you couldn’t even tell what kind of businesses they had been.

I've been to Omiya station once, but that was before I knew about OP and it was on a blitzy winter day in mid-January. The station is pretty big and the immediate surrounding area is bustling, but everything looks just so slightly dated compared to downtown Tokyo, like a time capsule from early 2000s IT-bubble era Japan, which is wild because it's technically only 20-something km away from Ikebukuro. I was only there to meet a friend and didn't get a glimpse of the rest of the area outside of the passing "car passenger POV", so I didn't really feel the "forgotten suburban Showa town" vibes from the novel when I read it but YMMV.

A quick Google search for "大宮商店街" shows a shopping street called Ichibangai to the immediate east of the station, and street view images match up the screenshot from the anime, so this specific area's your best bet.

I casually approached the building and slipped into the gap between it and the neighboring one. The lock on the side door was broken, so I knew I should be able to get in. I’d been able to do so the last time I was here, at least. Turning my body sideways as I proceeded down the gap, I put my hand on the sliding door. It got caught if you tried to move it normally, but if I put in some force, and lifted it up a little—there, it moved.

The back room of a shop that had gone under. The ceiling and wallpaper were in poor shape and the sink and gas stove against the wall were dark with grime. There were chairs and a table in the center of the room, covered in dust.

I crossed the room and approached the back door.

I pushed the door open with trepidation, and on the side was just the back alleyway, as I’d expected. There was a puddle on the bare concrete surface fed by runoff from the external portion of an air conditioner.

I took a step out into the alley and looked towards the arcade. It was blocked off with an iron bar gate and a padlock. Turning the other direction, the alleyway came to an immediate dead end with the back doors of some other buildings. Oh, I guess it had never been possible to come in through here before.

Omiya might be in Saitama but it's still a pretty urban area, so don't go breaking into empty shops or whatever... Still, taking a walk around the vicinity would be a good experience I think.

16. Yamaguchi Mansion (山口マンション)

Toriko's supposed apartment building near Nippori station - as deduced by this extremely detailed post. There's no need for me to repeat what's already been said so I'm just gonna add my own two cents for this section:

It wasn’t a particularly new building, but it still looked expensive. I hated that my reflexive reaction was—Little Miss Moneybags sure lives in a nice place, doesn’t she?

Definitely looks old - records I could find on Google show that it was built in 1985.

Also definitely expensive - apart from being so close to a Yamanote line station, it's got elevators! Japanese law doesn't require elevators to be installed for buildings shorter than 5 floors, so cheap developers often cap at 4 floors and call it a day. How do I know this? I used to live on the 4th floor apartment of a 4-storey building (also next to a major Yamanote line station), and let's just say every day was leg day.

I should add that it's an actual residential building located at the end of a street so I wouldn't recommend lingering, because that's pretty sus behaviour to anyone living nearby. I suggest maybe just a quick glance and move on to explore the rest of the neighbourhood.

Also if you're wondering why it's called a "mansion" - it's the Japlish term for a condo.

17. Casa N.Y Apartment Ginowan (宜野湾市Casa N.Yアパートメント)

The closest thing I could find to anything remotely New York-related on Okinawa…

Looks like a slightly old run-of-the-mill Japanese Airbnb though. My best guess is Miyazawa saw the name and decided to embellish things a little bit...

The location and exterior somewhat barely match up at least...?

Calling it a pension made it sound like some kind of resort, but this place was smack-dab in the middle of the city. It was a wooden penthouse on top of a three-story building, and right outside our window, across a street lined with palm trees, was a big billboard for a consumer finance company.

We were some distance from the center of Naha, so no matter where we planned to go, we were going to need a car.

Ngl, this is probably the wonkiest entry on the list.

18. ANA InterContinental Ishigaki Resort

Expensive rates? Check. Poolside bar? Check. Taxi distance from downtown restaurants? Check. Credit cards sure are convenient eh.

We stayed in a super expensive room at same-day arrival pricing, swam in the pool, ordered cocktails by the poolside, and went beach-combing for bits of coral. Then we took a taxi into town at night to eat Ishigaki beef and locally caught fish, then send Kozakura pictures of all the tasty food and alcohol.

Now I'm tempted to do this myself... Girl math is best math...

Fun fact: spamming someone with food photos (or on social media in general) is called 飯テロ (lit. "food terrorism"). And this post is starting to feel like it.

19. Chichibu Waraji Katsu Tei (秩父わらじかつ亭)

In Vol 4 (File 14 - The Inviting Hot Springs), Sorawo and Toriko mentioned that they ate a place called Golden Waraji Katsu (黄金わらじカツ) located within Seibu-Chichibu station after escaping Hasshaku-sama for the first time back in Vol 1 (File 2 - Hasshaku-sama Survival).

“Oh! That was here! I remember now. We caught a taxi on a mountain road, came back here… ate some katsudon at the station, and went home, right? It had a gaudy name. What was it again?” “Golden Waraji Katsu.”

While there isn't any shop of that name IRL or within the station proper, there is indeed one waraji katsu shop located within the food court of a hot spring facility called Matsuri No Yu (祭の湯), which in turn is directly connected to Seibu-Chichibu station (wth that's so nice???).

The facility is mentioned in the novel as well:

There was a building with a number of facilities, including a hot spring for people making day trips to the area, as well as a food court, attached to the station building.

Waraji katsu-don is a specialty dish of Chichibu. "Waraji" (草鞋) refers to Japanese sandals made from rice straw, although I'm not sure what is the special relation between this footwear and Chichibu, or what makes this katsu-don so different from the standard variation.

20a. Nipponichi Ikebukuro (にっぽん市 池袋)

The Ikebukuro private room izakaya that Sorawo booked in Vol 8 to celebrate Toriko's birthday. I did a Google search in Japanese for "Ikebukuro izakaya Japanese-style private room" and this seems to fit the bill off the bat. The entire izakaya is split into private rooms that can seat anywhere between 2 - 20.

I lacked the guts to book dinner for us at a hotel, so instead I chose as nice a drinking establishment as I could: a Japanese-style tavern in Ikebukuro with private rooms that was reasonably priced, and had good reviews for both the alcohol and seafood.

The indirect lighting of the private room shone softly on her golden locks and indigo irises.

Today she was wearing a relaxed, sky-blue dress, not something showy like when we went for dinner at the hotel. She was probably matching the vibe of the tavern.

Seems like a bingo. Pretty intimate interior, if you ask me... Maybe that's why Toriko finally mustered the courage to confess formally later that night lol.

We got more drinks, trying out some unfamiliar Japanese sake.

Their menu also has a dedicated fresh fish section, along with a very extensive sake list... which is a double wham in my books.

20b. Oto-Oto Ikebukuro (音音 池袋店)

There's another private room-only izakaya in Ikebukuro that also fits the description in the novel both in terms of food and interior, but I'm placing this as Option No. 2 because I think Sorawo at this point would rather stab herself in the eye than book the Couple's Room (right pic):

Like literally I would call this the sort of place you bring a girl to get laid after, you know???

Anyways, for those of my pals here who do want to get laid, you can check out the place on Tablelog here.

The Rest (???)

So, that's a cool 20.

There are some locations that have too few details to be narrowed down, such as the DS Labs building, the Shinjuku izakaya where Toriko donned Hasshaku-sama's hat (File 3 - Station February), or the yakitori place near Shakujii-kōen station that they settled at to escape the stalking cats (File 7 - Attack of the Ninja Cats).

Meanwhile, others, like the Chichibu hot springs inn they visited in Vol 4 carry too many research details for me to fit properly in the remaining space left in this post.

I'm sure there's also a bunch of locations/clues that I've forgotten that were visited throughout the 9 volumes, so I'll make a sequel if I come across any new clues/locations as I re-read Vol 1 - 9 in my sparse free time.

I might also do a post casually comparing the JP vs EN (and even CH) versions of the novels, since there were certain parts of the localisation that I felt made characters come off a bit too strong compared to the original.

[demiboydemon]

Weird Animal Crossing Headcanons!

Tom Nook used to be married to Redd, now is dating KK Slider. He used to just have a crush on him, but after KK came to the island they got drunk on vacation juice and hooked up in the closed Able Sisters’ changing room, and other places after Sable caught them and kicked them out. The next morning, they talked about it and decided to take things slow. After meeting up every Saturday for a few months, they put labels on things. Timmy and Tommy who were so glad to see their Dad/Uncle happy, even though Tom Nook had to make up a sfw story about how they got together.

Redd is single, but still likes Tom Nook. He’s scornful and jealous that Tom has moved on. He always hopes that he will see him in his boat and want him back. It hasn’t worked yet, but he’s hoping if he keeps selling fake art, Tom will get mad enough to talk to him. Recently he came to tell Redd that he was welcome to sell his art on the regular part of the island as long as he didn’t claim the forgeries were real, but Redd told him to go fuck himself.

Blathers is married to Brewster. It was hard being long distance so Brewster decided to move to the island, too. Sometimes Blathers is self-conscious about how much he talks, but Brewster finds it adorable. Sometimes a family is a bird who talks too much and a bird who doesn’t talk enough.

Harvey, Harriet, Leif, and Pascal are in a polyamorous relationship with each other. Harvey and Harriet got together first, then they met Pascal and Leif. Harriet isn’t dating Pascal, but they are good friends. They’re currently a closed polycule.

Flick and CJ are dating. They were childhood best friends, then got together as teens. Now they live together in a 2 bedroom apartment. One of the bedrooms belongs to the bugs and fish. Flick doesn’t talk to his dad much, and people assume it’s because he’s homophobic. Really it’s because Nat loves eating bugs. Another example of politics destroying families 😔

Pelly moved on from Pete after she caught him pirating content from Phyllis’s Onlyfans. She’s now with a pelican named Pierre, who is a Boondoxian. Pierre is scared of Phyllis, as everyone should be.

Gracie is friends with benefits with Pavé and Resetti. She’s a dom and they’re into that.

Dr Shrunk’s wife wanted to open up their marriage and he agreed, but now regrets it. He talked to Dr Shrunk (his wife) about his regrets and she told him she wanted a divorce. He is having a midlife crisis, and now the only reactions he can teach are ‘heartbreak,’ ‘hefty child support,’ and ‘look at my exotic tattoo.’ This is why he is absent in New Horizons, as Nintendo didn’t think these reactions would be profitable. (Geez, show the man some compassion.)

Ankha is taking a break from dating after someone leaked her nudes. She went on a coffee date with Wisp once, but he was too much of a scaredy-cat for her.

Don Resetti has a crush on Beppe at OK Motors. They don’t see each other much, but every time they do is magical. A scrapped part of New Horizons was the player setting them up on a date in exchange for bells, but Nintendo decided against it.

Reese and Cyrus are happy as ever, and are that couple you mute on social media because they make you feel bad about your own love life.

Franklin used to have a Tinder, but deleted it after he only got messages from vore roleplayers. Speed dating hasn’t worked out well for him, either.

Gillivarr has an unrequited crush on Celeste. Celeste is the unrequited crush of many, many people.

Wardell and Niko are in a committed relationship after working together for years. Digby and Lottie had to make amendments to the HHA rule book because they were sick of the PDA.

Lloid is well-endowed, but he still has a difficult time with dating because it’s made of clay, and no size in the world can make up for that.

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER TWELVE - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

 Something fucking hits my chest hard when I watch Y/N from afar, waiting for me by the sit-down restaurant where we agreed to meet. 

 She’s just casually sitting there, scrolling through her phone with a soft smile on her face, and I could bet money that she’s watching animal videos. Something I learned about her. Fucking obsessed that woman is. 

 I’ve never had social media before meeting Y/N, but I solely made an account so she could send me those videos of owners washing their dogs or naked cats fighting each other. 

 But what I’m feeling right now is burning the living shit out of my body… in a good way.

 We’d video chat a couple of times throughout the week, and if our schedules align, meet up on the weekends. I know what Y/N looks like. Her face is engraved in my head. But right now while I’m looking at her, I can get over how fucking pretty she is.

 The fresh loose braids that fall to the tip of her ass. The natural glow she has when she sits under the sun, bringing out the brown of her complexion. The fucking floral-printed dress she’s wearing that she sent me a photo of this morning that had me ripping the skin off my cock, holding tight around her waist and flowing down a little past her knees. 

 Everything.

 Everything about Y/N is fucking perfect. 

 Perfection is a myth. A bullshit concept, but for her it’s not.

 Can’t think of a single flaw when it comes to that woman.

 She’s too good.

 For me.

 That’s what my mind will always tell me, and I’ll believe that shit, too.

 When she finds out the real me, she’ll leave. Probably forget we ever happened. Still, the time she’s giving me now, I’ll take it.

 Like on cue, feeling someone staring at her like a damn creep, she looks up at me and holds contact. That huge fucking smile that spreads across her pretty lips has me thinking when was the last time someone was that excited to see me?

 Fushiguro, what the fuck? Why would you care? 

 I don’t. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. 

 It’s just a nice feeling to have, alright?

 I start walking toward Y/N and she closes the distance by throwing herself at me. Her arms wrap around my neck, and I fold one of my own around Y/N’s waist to squeeze her tight against my body. 

 So damn sweet she smells. Always like vanilla and warm berries. And soft, comforting, even. It feels almost too domestic to kiss her neck repeatedly, but I do it anyways because it’s fucking addicting. 

 “Hi, big guy.”

 “You okay?” She nods, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You look beautiful, sweets.”

 She pulls apart from my embrace, but keeps her arms around my neck and looks at me, bashful as shit. “Thank you.”

 I pull Y/N back to me and kiss her. It’s like she was waiting for that because the minute my lips are on hers, she relaxes. 

 The taste of her mango flavored gloss lingers on me.

 No tongue. No lip biting. Just a kiss that felt warmer than our other ones.

 She grabs my face to peck my lips back to back until she feels content, and honestly, I didn’t want her to stop.

 Not when she tastes that fucking good.

 PDA isn’t my thing. I actually hate it. Y/N just makes it hard for me.

 Managing to keep my hands to myself when I see her is like expecting pigs to fly, knowing that shit wouldn’t happen. 

 “I know you feel my dick pressing against you,” I rasped. Because the more she keeps kissing me like that, the more tempted I am to fuck her.

 “Maybe I enjoy taunting you? Never crossed your mind that I’m a sadist?” She asks, teasingly.

 “You? A high school teacher?”

 “Being a high school teacher is my seven to three activities, Mr. Fushiguro. After hours is a different story.”  The sexy smile and wink she flashes me has my cock throbbing even harder than before. A fucking minx Y/N is. 

 The day I do fuck her, I’ll make her regret teasing me like this, but a slap on her ass to help that cute yelp will do. 

 After we sat down, the server came over with water and took our orders.  Our conversation was comfortable while waiting for our meals. I split my attention between listening to Y/N and being lost in my thoughts. 

 Hanging out with her feels good. Always does, but it feels so fucking foreign yet familiar. 

 I don’t do this. 

 I don’t invite women out to lunch or other dates. Don’t sit on the phone with them for hours or video chat in silence just to feel their presence while they’re grading high school papers. 

 I don’t have the urge to kiss them every damn second of the day. And I definitely don’t stare at them with a goofy smile on my face, either. 

 But I do with Y/N. Everything about her, us being around each other, feels too fucking intimate. 

 Like how she giggles while swiping the crumbs off the corner of my mouth or me calling her adorable whenever she shies away from my compliments. 

 Her playing with my hair while talking to me. It’s too fast. We’re too fast. 

 Maybe I should step back a little. Can’t grow attached because I know all this is temporary. 

 Everything good is. 

 You unlovable child. 

 Yeah, I know. The Zen’in made sure to remind me every fucking day. 

 “Toji?” Y/N calls for me, sounding like it was her third time trying to get my attention. “You okay, big guy? You zoned out on me for a second.”

 I shake from my musings and clear my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

 “Then you should’ve stayed home and got some rest.” Her voice is soft when speaking to me. She doesn’t seem bothered from my horrible excuse to why I’m tired (I’m not). 

 Just pure concern. 

 “Nah, I’ll be fine. Wanted to see you, plus I think the kid would appreciate having me out the house.”

 “How is everything going with Megumi? Still rocky?”

 I chuckle. “Like walking on fucking eggshells.”

 Y/N rests her chin on her hand and gives a reassuring smile, still playing with my hair. “He’ll come through, Toji.”

 “Why are you so positive about it? Me and Megumi’s relationship?” 

 “Hm, because he’s a good kid and I know you’re trying to be active in his life,” she answers. “Yeah, he got suspended from school because he was fighting. And honestly, I shouldn’t be saying this as a teacher, but the reason for the fight was… valid? Or should I say understandable?”

 I raise my brows with a teasing smirk. “Miss L /N? Advocating for teens fighting?”

 “No, silly.” She returns the banter, rolling her eyes at me. “I’m just saying I see your protective nature passed down to him.”

 I quip a brow, confused. “Yeah?”

 “Mhm, one of his classmates was being picked on by the seniors and Megumi defended him. Well, I suppose calling them friends wouldn’t be far-fetched.” The shocked look on my face has Y/N just as confused. “What?”

 “He left out the part where he defended his friend.”

 “Really? What did he tell you?” 

 I throw my head back and laugh, running my hand through my hair. “That they were making fun of his English. You know he’s trying his damn hardest to convince me he doesn’t have friends?”

 Oh, I’m definitely going to hound the kid now with this new piece of information. To make it even better, Y/N tells he has three friends he sticks with throughout school. 

 Why does this shock me? Because my fifteen-year-old boy is finally making friends. A little sign to show that he won’t be a fuck up like me. 

 Didn’t have any myself when I was in school. Those Zen’in fucks were proud to make me their punching bag. It even spread around the school I went to, so no one wanted to be around me.

 Like I gave a fuck. I eventually dropped out anyway. 

 But Megumi? It’s my job as his parent to make sure he doesn’t experience the same shit I went through. He wasn’t always an introverted or shy kid. 

 When it was me, him, and his mother, he was always animated. Gave me a hard time, but always made sure to show affection to his old man. 

 Papa, carry me on your back!

 Love you, too, Papa.

 Papa… Ha, can’t remember the last time I heard him call me that. 

 Nostalgia weighs heavily on me. 

 Guess I should be grateful he still calls me Dad, at least. 

 The weight of Y/N’s stare reminds me I’m not alone. Big brown, glossy doe eyes casting the softest while looking at me. She must’ve noticed the strained expression on my face. 

 My response would be I don’t need pity, but that’s not the face she’s giving me. 

 I grabbed her chin and leaned forward to kiss her lips, groaning upon contact because she’s has the softest and sweetest mouth I ever fucking tasted. 

 A pleasurable sigh escapes her nose while our mouths become acquainted with each other, but I pull back before it deepens. 

 An old fucking pervert like me getting hard at a deli restaurant ‘cuz he’s kissing an outrageously hot woman? Yeah, calm down, big guy. 

 “I’m fine, sweets,” I reassure, answering her unspoken question before we kissed. “Just nice knowing he’s making friends.”

 “I know.” Y/N rubs the right side of my mouth where my scar sits, something she does a lot to comfort me. But never once has she asked me how it got there.

 Maybe she’s just waiting for me to open up. 

 Maybe one day I will. 

 Her phone timer goes off and she groans. “That hour went by way too fast.”

 “Too late to call in sick?” I teased.

 “Yeah, I think I’m about five hours too late.”

 We enjoy some more conversation while we wait for the server to come back with the bill. 

 But the second I was about to say some perverted joke to Y/N, some fucker interrupts us. 

 “Y/N?”

 She looks up to see who’s calling her and the smile that was on her face drops like she drank sour milk. 

 “Ken? I mean, Principal Nanami. What are you doing here?”

 Principal Nanami? You mean the jackass who submitted her name to that summit crap? Her fucking ex? My posture immediately becomes rigid and I let out a deep breath. 

 I don’t know this fucker from a can of paint, but I know enough from Y/N what told me, and let’s just say I’m not a fan. 

 She never badmouthed him. Y/N isn’t that type of woman. She loves hard because even with the heartbreak he caused her, she still finds a way to stay positive.

 Not me, though. Last thing I want to hear from her is how some motherfucker broke her heart because he didn’t give her the time that she deserved. 

 And if you think I’m supposed to give a damn that he’s the principal at my kid’s school, I don’t. 

 My fist is itching to connect to his face, especially when I see the motherfucker checking her out with the eyes only another perverted ass man like me would know. 

 Y/N notices the change in my demeanor, so she begins talking to relieve the tension and silence in the air the moment her ex felt comfortable coming up to us.

 Us…

 “Uhm, are you grabbing lunch?” She asks, nervously. 

 Not nervous like she’s been caught doing something she isn’t supposed to do. But nervous because she knows her ex is on my shit list. 

 One thing I can say about him is that he has balls. He feels my glare piercing his skull, but instead of avoiding it, we have a stare down. 

 ��Yes,” he answers, still looking at me. “Appears that you’re leaving? You were on your free hour?”

 “Yeah. About to head back now.” She stands up and runs her hands down her dress to smooth out any wrinkles. And it only gave her ex a better look at her appearance. 

 That’s when the stare down ended. 

 “You look lovely. I’ve always admired that color on you,” he admits, like I’m not fucking here. 

 This motherfucker is really testing my patience.

 Before she responded, I stood up and interrupted. “Everything’s okay?”

 “Why wouldn’t it be?” He asks.

 I shrug, fisting my hands in my pockets.  “Don’t know much about manners, but it makes sense to speak to everyone in a setting you entered.”

 Like I give a fuck about manners. But he has another fucking thing come if he thinks he’ll talk to Y/N without addressing me. 

 “Oh,” he chuckles. “My apologies. Nanami Kento.” And offers a handshake, which I ignored.

 “Fushiguro.”

 “Hm.” His attention returns to Y/N. “Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the teacher’s summit. If you could stop by my office after you’re done with your classes for the day.”

 “Alright,” she deadpans. 

 “Well, I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Enjoy the rest of your hour.” Is all he says before walking inside of the restaurant. 

 Annoyance still rolls off my skin even after the fucker, but Y/N laces her fingers with mine, and surprisingly enough, I calm down.

 “That was awkward, wasn’t it?” I know her question was rhetorical. A way to lighten the mood, however, I answered it anyway.

 “No. I wanted to punch him.”

 She lets out a short giggle and shifts her weight onto one leg. “You can’t punch my boss, Toji.”

 “Boss? No. Ex? Yes.”

 “Whatever. Come on before I’m late.” Y/N began pulling me toward the street before the waiter came back, so I left enough cash to cover for food and tip.

 We walk in a comfortable silence to her car, and it’s something I appreciate. 

 I’ll never get tired of listening to Y/N’s voice. It’s calming. But just having her next to me is enough. Hand holding and all. 

 Didn’t take us long to get to her car and it made me fucking wish she parked farther. 

 “Thank you for lunch. That spot is good,” she says, breaking the silence. Y/N takes out her keys to unlock her door and I open it for her. Before she gets in, she turns to look at me. “Sorry… You know… about earlier.”

 “Why are you saying sorry?”

 “I don’t know. He was-”

 “Any fucker would act like that if they saw their ex that they clearly miss out with another guy,” I interrupted. “Me? Probably would’ve sat down and crashed your date.”

 She shakes her head, smiling. “Remind me to never break up with you.” And immediately she realizes what slipped past her mouth, trying to clean it up. “Uh, I don’t mean break up. I mean, uhm… whatever is going on between us… you and me.”

 Us.

 You and me. 

 “Yeah, whatever is going on between us,” I mock softly with a small smile on my face. “Text me when you made it safe.”

 For a quick second, something changed. Y/N looks down and tucks a braid behind her ear, fumbling with her keys. Maybe she’s overthinking the breaking up comment. 

 Yeah, it threw me off, but I can’t blame her for thinking we’re together seeing how fast we’re moving.

 Sometimes I forget my damn self. 

 She needs reassurance, and of course my words are stuck in my fucking head. So I do the next thing I think would help. 

 I tipped her chin upwards and kissed her. Usually I kiss Y/N hard. Libido driven. Aggressively with the intent to make her know how badly I want to fuck her. But right now, I kiss her softly. With tenderness and longing. 

 Kissing Y/N will always give me that burn I crave whenever I need to clear my mind. 

 I sound sappy as shit, I know.

 Only for her. 

 “Text me when you made it safe. Alright?” I repeated.

 “Alright,” she answers softly with a tiny smile. 

 I give her a quick kiss on the temple and tap her ass. She shoots me a playful glare that makes me chuckle.  

 Been doing a lot of that ever since I met Y/N. 

 The only fear in my soul is to lose Megumi because he’s all I have left. But these feelings that’s been brewing in my gut about Y/N these past six weeks are scaring the living shit out of me. 

 I was convinced I couldn’t feel this way anymore, that all my ounce of decency and love I had was buried with my wife. Yet here I am, liking another woman. Probably fucking more than that. 

 And I can’t keep saying I don’t know Y/N.

 Because I do know her.

 Just don’t know from where.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

things are finally starting to pick up. i hope you guys are still with me. thank you for reading. i would love to hear your thoughts. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ♡

[crapula-estatutario-nobinario]

Thanks @gay-caesar-truther for the tag!♡ I absolutely love this kind of stuff so, feel free to tag me in anything like this!

CICERITO INFO UNDER THE CUT.

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NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3

Spanish/English and claims he can talk to dogs.

TONE OF VOICE: high / average/ deep

ACCENT: Yes / No -Rolls Rs

DEMEANOR: confident /shy/ approachable /hostile/other -Stupidly friendly.

POSTURE: slumped /straight /stiff/ other

HABITS: head tilting /swaying /fidgeting /stuttering/ gesturing/arm crossing/strokes chin/ er, um, or other interjections /plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at distances

If you bring a dog or an animal, he will only focus on the animal while speaking

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COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ●●●●○

EMOTION: ●●●●○

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ●●○○○

(knows a lot of words, doesn't knows how to use them)

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ●●●●○ (Loves swearing)

CREATIVITY: ●●●●●

(Hoe is bilingual and very creative mixing and matching the best of both worlds.)

●●●●---------●●●●

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes/ rarely / never.

>Yaps too much and gets way too excited so it is hard to understand him sometimes. He is missing some teeth as well so that makes vocalising a bit harder to him

DOES YOUR CHARACTER'S INTENDED POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes / never.

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but/ though / although / however/ perhaps/ mayhaps.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

Mostly if he gets uncomfortable. Lad can yap all day long.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE 'WHOM' IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

I doubt he knows how to use it.

That is very valid, however, I am inside your walls.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle/ lower.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away/ ask if that's everything / say that's everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet /they don't.

Sometimes, he gets distracted by something else, so he yeets himself out.

Hope the copy/paste did not eat any questions!

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent/ vocabulary / tone level / politeness / brusqueness/ it doesn't.

Tagging @antxnous @arcinox @legions-top-dog (your vulpes version or perhaps any oc??)

[hunterssm00n]

Find You

One month after the events of SOTL but before Hannibal (2001): Clarice Starling is an FBI agent on the hunt for one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and she reflects on their strange connection. | Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling |

also on my ao3: here

*cw mild language*

౨ৎ

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

I look for you in the center of the sun / I took a pill but it didn't help me numb / I see your face even when my eyes are shut / But I never really know just where to find you...

"You're dancing circles around me You're fucking crazy Oh oh, you're crazy for me Oh oh, you're crazy for me..." ~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey

X.x

"Starling. Starling. Starling. A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there are different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to cleanse the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just glorified scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - more so in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of To protect and serve. This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

"Sir. Doctor Lecter. So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, clever girl. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? Survival of the fittest? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their 'lil selves on up that laddah."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Starling. Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of humans."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing you, Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his puppet?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would ever come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature all your own."

"So if I am a Starling, sir, what are you?"

"That depends on you, Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The choice is yours."

X.x

"Clarice?"

Her face hurt; felt like it was being mushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

"Clarice,"

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

"Jesus," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look rough," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

"Um," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was never this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"Great," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting her.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to do the same. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep again if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of steel." Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. There is no way... Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofabitch," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was her. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."

~H.L.

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the SOTL/Hannibal franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, or the song ‘Find You’ by Nick Jonas. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.

[rhodesrider]

Getting Along

Y/N x Bloodline & Nicole (OC) x Judgement Day

Warnings: Fluff here and there, affirmation names, affirmation praise, poly relationships, sights of stimming and regression

Words: I stopped count I’m sorry-

~

“I HAVE TO WHAT?!” Y/N yelled in the lounge giving evil eyes at Paul as he explained the issue going on tonight. “P-please miss it’s only for the time being, our tribal chief-“ “Yea I have a few words for my tribal chief.” She said in a mocking tone and grabbed her phone FaceTiming Roman immediately. Paul wipes the sweat off his head and the twins just sat there annoyed along with solo who rubbed his temples.

Roman answered knowing it was Y/N. “My decision is final princess. Just be on the playing field for now.” “But daddy I don’t wanna work with the has been goths…” she pouted and shed a tear seeing if that could work. “And Nicole is weird!” She added in. “Baby, we have an issue we need to solve. Be nice and play along, if not I’ll have a word with you about your manners again.” He said in a strict tone. She groaned and looked at the camera nodding. “Good girl. Play nice and let’s just just finish this little issue.” He gave her a small air kiss and hung up. As soon as she was outta Roman’s sight she screamed in anger. She walked back in the lounge room heated but knowing she was gonna have to just deal with it.

~

They were walking up to the stage, and Y/N was given instructions to stay in the back with Nicole. Nicole was being coddled by Rhea fixing her hair some as she was playing on her Nintendo switch. As Y/N watched, Nicole didn’t look up from her screen, she received a kiss from everyone in the group, but she hugged Dominik. “Your charger is in the bag munchkin!” Rhea called out and waited by the ramp entrance with the others. Y/N was on the other side trying to avoid talking to her. They both have the same roles, but Y/N sees her as a lap dog. Nicole doesn’t wrestle or isn’t in any events, unlike Y/N who won titles and opportunities. Y/N is more than what Nicole is, that’s why she knows they won’t get along. The bloodline walked up and Y/N kissed all three men and gave a mocking middle finger to Paul. “Baby.” Jey shot a look. “I’m sorry I’m sorry.” She smirked. As they went to the ring, Y/N directed her attention to the tv. Nicole was still on her switch, chewing on a Oreo teething necklace. “…Can you chew quieter please?” Y/N said a bit annoyed at the squeaks from the biting toy. Nicole looked up and nodded, she just stopped chewing all together and just played her game in silence.

Nicole looked up at Y/N, a bit shy but she doesn’t really have many friends but JD. And they really don’t count she’s their girlfriend. She was in Y/N’s shoes, in a poly relationship with four people that just want her. There’s times were it gets overwhelming but it has its perks a lot. “So…um…you do anything fun around here?” Nicole asked low, Y/N looked at her and just looked back at the screen. “Ok…um do you like video games?” Y/N said nothing. Nicole’s was about to give up hope until she heard a small yes. “…I have a switch lite…” Y/N really didn’t wanna talk to her but when it’s video gaming she’s a sucker for it. She plays online with Roman and the guys all the time. “…And a Ps5…” She smirked looking at her. “I just have my Switch, I like Nintendo games.” Y/N sighed going over and sitting by Nicole and keeping distance. But soon talking about Pokémon and Animal Crossing. Y/N learned a lot about Nicole, games and music, learning they have some social issues. “So when it gets too loud, you cover your ears with your headphones?” She nodded and put them over her head. “They muffle a lot of noise, Finny got em for me.” She blushed talking about on for her boyfriends. Y/N was hesitant but showed her anxiety ring. Telling her Jimmy got it for her to help her chill on her skin scratching.

After the promo and match, the guys came back tired. “Munchkin!” Rhea called. Nicole looked back telling them she’s on the way seeing them head to their lounge. “Since we might see each other more, here!” Nicole reached in her bag and gave Y/N a indi game she recommended. Y/N smiled and took the offer trading her a game as well. Her Pokémon game. “Since you skipped Arceus.” She smirked. Nicole smiled and hugged her which made JD gasp a little. Hearing a slight faint Dominik “She never hugs anyone else…” that was in shock. Y/N waved bye to her new friend and Nicole waved back getting hoisted by Damien and getting a piggy back ride giggling. The twins watched the whole scene and was so happy for Y/N making a new friend. “Hey so you made friends with the lap dog-“ Jey teased but soon felt a sharp punch to his arm. “She’s not a lap dog! Don’t call her that!” She growled and Jey apologized quick. “I’m just happy you getting more friends then just us.” Jimmy smirked hugging her. Y/N looked down at the Indi game “Cult of the Lamb” and smiled. “Yea…I’m happy too.”

~

Rhea and the crew were getting their stuff in the van to head to the hotel room. “Munchkin, I’m guessing you made a new friend?” Rhea didn’t hear anything but heard pokemon sounds coming from in the van. “I’m gonna take that as a yes mami.” Dominik smirked and got in the back too, watching her play. Rhea smiled warmly happy she was being more verbal now, but there’s still more work to be done. She’s just glad there’s progress.

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC

AO3: LiveLaughLoveLarry

Tumblr: @loveislarryislove

STATS:

✤ Number of fics: 88

✤ Posting Since: 2014

TOP 5 FICS:

1️⃣ You Took My Heart By Surprise {T, 39k}

There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.

Queen Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While your file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?”

“It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”

“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.

Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”

2️⃣ Though the Seasons Change So Quickly (Keep Them Buried In My Heart) {G, 6k}

A series of moments of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years, from the very beginning to the present, through the perspective of those around them. It's beautiful and it's brutal, it's awe-inspiring and it's awful - it is what it is.

"He’s special, Gem," Harry says. "He’s different. Different from anyone else I’ve ever known. I think-”

Gemma holds up a hand. “Slow down, buddy,” she says. “You’ve only known him a few months.”

“I know,” Harry says again, his fingers tugging at the designs embroidered in the blanket. “But it’s still true.”

Gemma studies him for a long moment. It’s interesting, she thinks. She’s never seen him like this -– not really. He’s almost glowing, a smile constantly either present or hiding just below the surface, and while it could just be the band as a whole making him so happy, she somehow doesn’t think so.

3️⃣ Funny How The Stars Crossed Right {NR, 17k}

Liam and Louis round the corner to see a horse trotting around the ring. She (or maybe he) is a beautiful animal, with a dark black coat and white socks. A tall man in riding clothes sits atop the horse, speaking softly. He’s completely focused on the horse, and doesn’t notice their entrance at all. Dark brown curls spill out from beneath his helmet, and his expression is one of total joy.

“Who’s that?” Louis asks, finding himself oddly breathless.

“That’s Chester,” Liam says. “He’s an angel.”

Louis is about to comment that he looks like an angel, but then pauses. “The human or the horse?”

Louis is a photography student, assigned to do a project at Greenfield Stables. Harry is a veterinary student, working part-time at Greenfield to gain experience and make a little money. They both have something to teach the other.

4️⃣ Might've Took The Long Way {M, 21k}

It's been two years since Harry and Louis broke up. They were that couple in high school -- you know the one; been together forever, hopelessly in love, all over each other, the whole nine yards. Even when Louis went off to university, they found a way to make the distance work.

Until they broke up.

Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can't be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

“They got a name?” Bebe asks.

“What?”

“Your ghosts,” she says, her voice suddenly soft. “If you want to tell me, I mean. I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but. Sometimes it can help to exorcise them.” She pauses, and chuckles. “Other times, vodka works better than sage.”

Louis holds his breath for a moment, building the courage, before he finally murmurs, “Harry.”

“Sorry?”

“Harry,” Louis says again. The name feels like a time bomb in his mouth, but it hasn’t blown up yet. “His name was -- is -- Harry.”

5️⃣ The Things You Hide {NR, 27k}

Louis has been an MI6 agent for four years. Now he wants out. Unfortunately, his superiors have other ideas. Their solution: a 'mission' in the Greek Islands, one that's more vacation than actual work. Harry is an avid photographer who shows him around the area. He's open and carefree and everything that Louis wishes he could be. Along the way they fall in love, and maybe Louis learns a little about love, a little about lies, and a whole lot the meaning of home.

HIDDEN GEM:

💎 what's left of my halo's black {E, 22k}

As Harry sucks lovebites into Louis’ neck, Louis hopes that one day those marks will cover the way he can still feel Alex’s handprints burned into his flesh.

As Harry’s nails drag scratches along Louis’ back, Louis hopes that one day the scabs on his heart will heal and drop away just like the scabs on his skin.

As Harry fucks him down into the mattress, the bed shaking with every thrust, Louis hopes that one day his mouth will forget the shape of Alex’s name, won’t trace it over and over as the heat builds inside him, won’t want to scream it when he comes. Maybe one day he’ll open his eyes, as he slowly floats down from his post-orgasm haze, and won’t expect to see Alex’s face smiling back at him.

But today is not that day.

A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for. But Harry has some secrets of his own, and they send Louis' world spinning off its axis all over again.

[stupidrant]

It's reassuring to see more people point out the matter of Angrboda not having the same experiences as Atreus with social interaction, let alone courtship given years of isolation and total loneliness (with no one around but her unstable grandmother who wouldn't even speak to her, would torture her animals&call Angrboda "nothing" and express regret she didn't throw her to the wolves right after birth). Furthermore, I personally was never in the "Angrboda is oblivious to Atreus's crush" camp (it didn't cross my mind at all when playing the game). I was glad that the game didn't go a cliched route with boy's one sided pinning and girl not giving him time of the day (stories that overpopulate media because heavens forbid women - fictional or real - actively show or spell out their interest for a male character).

Not only was their interest in each other - including blossoming romantic feelings - completely mutual, but Angrboda could not be MORE open about her own feelings for Atreus. The scene where she initially rejected the flower was the only moment of misunderstanding of his intentions on her part. And it had everything to do with her not realizing the implications of this gesture of attention (again, due to lack of socializing/lack of knowledge on courting customs in Atreus's realm). Once Angrboda gained minimal experience with human interaction and a support system in the form of not just Atreus but his nearest and dearest she carefully kept that flower among her treasured paints (symbols of her self expression).

Her actions and behavior immediately after Angrboda turned down the flower are also telling (and admittedly, the decision to pluck a flower on the territory Angrboda nourished, taking care of every inch of Ironwood and every living thing there, was a remarkably silly - albeit genuine and cute - move on part of Atreus; like I said before, it's akin to someone plucking a flower from another person's garden, then giving it to said person, whom the garden belongs to, as a "gift"). Few scenes later Angrboda continued to tease and joke with Atreus, took him to see fireflies (Classic Romantic build up scene TM), told him how glad she was he came there, protected him from Gryla (not just with magical paint but literally shielding him with her own body - just took a screencap of that and squealed), verbally let him know - twice - that she didn't want him to leave, initiated physical contact with Atreus several times (Atreus only instigated it once, in the very end) and opened up to him about her trauma of losing both parents, just to make him feel better (right after enduring another trauma of being denounced by the only family she had left).

In every scene where Atreus takes a step towards her Angrboda either reciprocates or expresses sadness and dejection when he gives her promises she doubts he would keep. Precisely because she'd want nothing more than for him to keep them but knows it's unlikely because of the prophesy and other circumstances . She thanks him for inviting her to come with him but notes her animals need her - and Atreus himself must have realized it was an impossible request at that point; she tells him she was glad he came to Ironwood but when Atreus promises to visit her later Angrboda instantly grows crestfallen (although moments earlier she had been exited to share a beautifully lit and glowing evening with him) and sorrowfully asks "when". Making it clear that obviously she'd love to see him again and "won't be busy after Ragnarok" - but she doesn't believe she'd still be on his mind then and that Atreus would even spare her a thought after everything he's bound to go through.

When Atreus takes her hands in his in the end Angrboda originally looks dumbfounded - another gesture of courtship she's not used to and has no experience with - but she doesn't take distance or pull away. Quite the contrary, she reciprocates physical closeness (leaning towards his face) but tries to dispel the intimacy of the moment by taking their interaction to a safer and more familiar - for her - territory by asking Atreus about the giant visions. And then the first thing Angrboda does is acting, yet again, for the benefit of Atreus when she softens the impending separation for him and Kratos ("it's for you too"). When they say goodbye Angrboda hugs him tightly (we now know she told him she would "miss him" - another display of affection, completely unprompted, from her) and gives him her marble. It's blatant that she has feelings for him and doesn't hide them but she doesn't know how to conventionally transform them into romance just yet.

Even kratos catching on and asking mimir abt it like how can one truly deny anything at this point 😭