#THANKS AGAIN FOR SENDING IN SO MANY THINGS IN INBOX BUD

[cornkernelle]

IVE TURNED HIM INTO A TIMEKEEPER CLONE /J

LETS GOOOOO COSTUME DESIGN!!! I love the silly!! Gold designs are always very pretty to look at..

STARES…. dont be afraid to show the class.

BUTTER IS SERVED! :D

[pricegouge]

Heyo! Anon back again for the Aliens discussion! I love your take on everything and I do think I jumped the gun a bit with the sexual tension turn of phrase I used before because when I really tried to think of anything recent that I've seen that could help explain the heterosexual norm between male/female leads in film/shows I really couldn't think of anything but much older examples! Like stuff I watched growing up as a kid whether TV/films, romcoms, actually the first example I could really think of was actually within the alien/predators movies franchise! Also pls tell me I'm not crazy to think that Alexa/Wolf(predator) in the first AvP film didnt have high sexual tension? I love a human/predator fics but might just be me on that one considering I misread signs/body language all the time. I'm also not the best when it comes to referrals for any media in more recent times I hardly watch anything anymore but gameplay of stuff that looks interesting. If you're looking for game recommendations I might have a few if you're into all the existential philosophy ordeal. Have you played or heard of SOMA? It's a bit dated now but imo worth a watch or more recent was a game called Signalis that I've been obsessed over! Highly recommend!

Also could I be 👽 anon, I didnt see that it was taken in your top post? It also seemed fitting considering our topics of discussion.

Thank you so much for your responses! I loved your feedback and getting to talk to someone else who loves these films! 💖💖💖

Also sorry if this might be a double feature in your inbox I'm trying to write this all out on mobile and the app gets finicky!

Hi friend!

No spoilers but putting this under a cut so it doesn't get too long on dash

You're fine on knee jerk reaction thinking there's hetero relationships everywhere you look in film because technically you're right. The leads are framed in such a way that there should be tension, and it's often implied that when the camera stops rolling, they will be getting together. But between directors mishandling the actors, screenplays not prioritizing relationships (not a bad thing, I admit, but gives us less time to build and therefore believe a budding relationship which blows. I think the 00's were particularly egregious in just shoving a heterosexual couple in a room together and expecting us to understand when they started making out even though it was completely unearned which I think is much worse than actually spending "too much" time building the attraction), and the general decline in R-rated movies (thanks, capitalism!), we've just been left with completely sexless films, even when it is written in.

I think Alexa/wolf had about as much sexual tension as they could be expected to have when one of the actors was wearing a rubber suit lol. Also because while I think the director definitely wanted them to be a couple, I think he knew the world wasn't quite ready for all that so it was kinda undersold. I do ship them hard though tbh lmao sanaa lathan needs to get that alien dick!

I don't actually play a lot of video games 😔 I just never have time for them. If ever I have more than ten minutes a day to spend on hobbies (aka if/when I get bored of writing), dragon age is probably my next up. But SOMA looks very up my alley! I'll send out a distress signal to you if I'm ever looking for similar recs lmao. Likewise, I watch way too many movies so if you ever need recs I gotchoo. And thanks for sending in the asks! I adoreeee talking about horror (obv) so stop in anytime 💛

[ecliptsukki]

falling for you ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki / cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff, slight comedy

➣ warnings: cursing

➣ a/n: i’m far too in love with this man. i can’t help myself. also if you have anything you want me to write, send it to my inbox!

- he first met you at "S," seeing you stood by langa and reki

- his silky pink hair flowed behind him in the wind, his bangs lifting to reveal his golden eyes. those golden orbs are locked on you the entire time he skates closer to you

- the lack of bickering that usually arose between cherry and joe had caught joe's attention

- joe notices cherry's gaze on a particular y/h/c. he almost snorts, almost, but, being a teasing lil bitch kidding, he decides to jab at cherry's side

- "hey, do you see that girl over there? she's cute, isn't she?"

- the bubblegum-colored hair male glares holes into his friends head

- "i'm sure she wouldn't be interested in a muscle-brained gorilla like yourself"

- "bOI, DID YOU JUST-"

- skates off into the distance, further closing the gap between the two of you

- girls and guys start cheering for and fawning over cherry, as well as joe. this catches your attention because you're surprised mostly by the fawning of the people. honestly, you wouldn't say that anyone you've seen there is worthy of so much attention, excluding your two best buds: langa and reki.

- you're actually older than reki and langa by 3 years. you met reki on coincidence.

- you had borrowed your friend's skateboard to cruise around the town. you had felt overwhelmed with all that had been going on in your life, and you wanted to find an escape. your friend, wanting to help you with that mission, offered the board, saying "it's really fun and gets your mind off of things whenever you need." obviously, you took up on the offer because it was a nice spring day: the sun out and the bright colors of nature and the city filling your misty eyes.

- you skated by the skate park and saw a particular redhead practicing ollies and other tricks. you were impressed by the skill he had portrayed, yet you were also envious of how light he seemed, how his eyes twinkled with joy. your gaze must've rested too long on the boy because he approached you soon after.

- reki, later on, introduced you to langa, bringing you to where you were today

- you came to "S," though unwillingly, to support langa in his beef against another fellow skater

- honestly, you detested that your younger friends were participating in illegal activities but never brought it up because you saw how happy they looked whenever they spoke about the beefs

- anYWAYS-

- looking into the distance, you see a masked man in a white yukata, hair flowing behind him, and a green haired, shirtless, buff man skating closer

- "who's that?" you ask your friends

- "oh! that's cherry blossom and joe. they are the founding members of "S." cherry has an ai board, and joe has incredible power," reki pips

- you nod, acknowledging the two men as they stepped off of their skateboards

- “well hello there,” the green haired man winks at you

- “hi,” you flush, eyes wandering between his gaze and his bare chest

- “what’s a pretty little lady like yourself doing with these two kids?”

- “uh-”

- reki tries to jump joe but is held back by langa because we know that reki doesn’t stand a chance against big muscle man

- joe gets all up and comfy with you, flexing his muscles and talking about who knows what

- your attention was mostly on the blue-nette friend of yours. you were still very anxious about this entire thing

- “she’s not even paying attention to you anymore, you idiot,” the masked man speaks

- embarrassed that they noticed your rude behavior, you begin to excessively apologize

- “no, please don’t apologize. i should’ve realized you were worried about your friends,” joe says modestly

- “there’s no need to worry about snow. he’s fully capable of staying safe. we’ve seen him skate many times, and he always comes out in one piece. i’m sure you’ll be impressed as well,” cherry says in his monotonous tone

- “snow?” you tilt your head to the side in confusion

- when i tell you cherry MELTED, i mean that he MELTED

- stomach? churning. heart? fluttering. cheeks? flushing. hotel? trivago

- bRO, why are you SO FUCKING ADORABLE

- “snow is langa,” joe explains when he notices cherry’s flustered silence

- “ohhhhhh-”

- “actually, i’ve just realized. we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. call me joe,” he looks expectantly at his friend

- “you may call me cherry,” the man thanked the lords that he wore a mask because if he wasn’t, you’d see the obvious rose tint on his cheeks

- “i’m y/n! i came here with reki and langa.”

- to say cherry’s heart broke in that moment would be an understatement. his heart was more so shattered and pulverized.

- did i just fall for a minor? FU-

- “but i’m older than them, of course.”

- lemme just pick up the shards of my broken heart and re-piece it back together

- you barely talked to cherry that night his fault for acting so cold, but you were intrigued by the man. i mean he skates on a talking skateboard, how can you not?

- cherry leaves “S” that night, regretting all his life decisions because instead of talking to you, he avoided you

- who knows when’s the next time he’d meet you?

- lmao, SiKe

- you walk into sakurayashiki calligraphy, awkwardly waiting to be interviewed

- his pink hair meets your eyes, the long, silky hair framing the man’s pale face. a pair of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, enhancing his golden eyes. he is clad in a navy blue yukata

- hm, he looks familia-

- you almost gasp aloud, as you realize who he is

- not wanting to jump to conclusions, you ask, “have we met before?”

- kaoru is freaking out, though he hides it well under his professional mask

- what the heck? she’s the one looking for a job here?

- “yes, we have, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about”

- yiKeS, nice first impression on your, hopefully, new boss, y/n

- throughout the entire interview, you impressed him with the slightest of things

- you were beyond professional and exactly what he looked for in employees

- damn it. why is she so perfect?

- you walk out of the building with the brightest smile on your face, ecstatic with the news that you had been hired

- kaoru follows closely behind you, acting gentlemanly as he leads you out

- “thank you so, so much. i promise i will work my hardest to make your business even stronger and better than before”

- “no, the honor’s all mine. i can tell that you’ll become a valuable asset”

- you’re bowing your head and thanking him to a crazy amount that he starts to worry that you’re getting dizzy

- mustering up all the courage he could, he speaks up, “actually, i don’t really like talking about the skating half of my life...”

- you mutter a genuine apology for bringing it up before

- “it’s alright, but i was wondering if you wanted to go to “S” with me next time. i understand if you decline. i won’t fire you for it,” he tries to add a joke to lighten his tense mood

- you giggle at his nervous and awkward behavior, “good to know i won’t get fired if i say no, but sure! i wouldn’t mind going again. it’s a good opportunity to let me watch over reki and langa—”

- “that-that’s great,” he sighs with relief

- “—and i can get to know you better,” you mutter quietly under your breath

- he flushes, hearing what you said perfectly

- “i wouldn’t mind that either”

- you couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about the soft smile on kaoru’s face, whilst kaoru was busy sleeping, lost in his dreams of you and him together

- the both of you couldn’t wait to get to know each other more

[sarah-sandwich]

A love letter to commenters, using only their words as they left them on works of fiction

Dear Commenters,

I don’t even know where to start

First of all, I have to compliment your fortitude

Well done

You mad genius

To write a comment

So full of

Genuine affection

Heartfelt, and REAL

Honey you can’t do this?

Such a beautiful message

Oh dear

I would kudos

A million times if I could

.

Unintelligible caps-lock comment

My beloved

I gotta be honest

APOLOGIZING

For

A

Beautiful

Knee-jerk reaction

NOOOOOOOO

It’ll be a crime against this fandom if you stop

.

You

Wrote this

I’m thankful I got to read this

My heart needed it

On another note tho i—

Fhsjhdhdhdsh

A comment

Relief in the sea of fandom

Don’t take this the wrong way

I’m glad you didn’t

Threw it out

Because it is perfect and I’m keeping it

.

Y’know what, fuck it *affection*

The amount of validation

Is absurd

No thoughts. Head empty. Just

THE WAY I AM YELLING

How it feels like we

Work

Together

I’m at 4am finishing just another one more part

You being the reason

I can’t wait to finish it

Would you be okay if I

Express just how much

I love your brain

We do not and I repeat do not deserve you!

.

I can’t think of a funny quip

In all seriousness

I’ve been struggling

But

I needed something

And you gave it to me

Rent free

We start out raw, stumbling around in the dark and weaving our way across the lines of humor and sincerity

The people we really are

Not the character or story development, but yours. You

Hi thanks its 5:30am here and I am wrapped up in my comforter and my face is wet

.

To write a comment

I don't know if you realize, but

From reading it

I'll be a better person

Sure, the characters drew me to this fic, but it’s you that kept me here

Going back

There's this

Feeling

You managed to give me

And that's not even a fraction of the awe I'm feeling at the way

the commentary

made me blink back a few tears

There is absolutely no fucking way I can find the same amount of euphoria

Finally some good fucking food

.

I’m screaming

Something I don't think is said enough

Thank you for sharing

The most perfect paragraph I’ve ever read

I will cherish it for days

Will read again. Maybe a few times.

.

I believed in every word.

.

Guess what I’m doing instead of

Writing

I’m reading this

Comment

Again. Again. Again.

There were so many moments that had me

!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do I feel guilty about it?

No :)

It’s alright the next chap is already up

I will be in debt from cavities but it’s worth it

I regret nothing!

.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Just say thank you like a normal person

Is that too much to ask

Guh.

I’m so sorry

.

The anxiety

The awkwardness

It’s alright

Your

Words

Make me feel better

AND PROUD

Thank you for sharing

Connecting

Supporting each other

Hits different for some reason

(in a good way)

Does that make sense?

.

Maybe I’m just sleep deprived

It’s 3AM here

.

I promise you’re doing okay bud

You’re really funny and sweet

You did such a wonderful job

You wrote it all very well

It makes my day

I love how you captured the

Subtle background details

And the acknowledgment that

It takes a lot of work!

And damn if you didn't hit that nail right on the head

.

Idk how long this comment will get

I should be sleeping

I’ll probably regret it in the morning

But

It’s like

So so happy to see this

In my inbox :)

It’s like coming home

You’re making me have FEELINGS

My heart is happy and full

.

I’m literally

SCREAMING

Quietly-but-not-quietly-at-all into a pillow

This lovely

Thing

You wrote

Got me through

More confident

With lots of joy and laughter

I hope you’re still writing

.

Every

Word

You write

My favorite thing to read

Please dear god lmk

If you happen to

Been feeling out of sorts

Buddy…sleep

You are not alone

Sending all my love

As always

Let someone take care of your ass for once

.

Everybody’s

Really going through it

Being the yardstick for each other

Have to compete

But I just can’t

This should be

Fun

Aiming

To be happpyyyy!

.

Next chapter

Could have been quicker

I wish I could give so many more

Life totally got away from me this year

Don’t read the last few chapters at 1 am

But on the other hand

What can you do?

.

My feelings are all over the place

.

Such a beautiful message

I think will stick with me always

From someone who hasn’t written in a while, this inspires me immensely to continue

Kudos upon kudos to you

.

Ah, I could go on forever

I don’t know how many ways I can say

Thank you so much

You wonderful human

Without sounding obnoxious so I’ll leave it as

It’s 2am and I’m left with

Massive

WIBBLES

I can’t even put this one into words

Please knock me out with a brick

Ouchie…and lovely

It’s hard to form coherent sentences

But somehow you made me fall even more in love with

Writing

.

I forgot to say it before but

Listen

It was exactly what I needed

You are so fucking amazing

20/10

Did I mention my brain went aaaaaahhhhhhh!

Thank you for the serotonin

Once I run out

Will probably read it again

No seriously

I’ll have to return to it in the future to reread it

.

It’s now 3am

Thank you for

Reading this

I loved every moment and I’m sad it had to end. But it was perfect.

I can’t stop smiling.

.

Hope you’re safe and well, read you~

Love,

Writers

[yukikorogashi]

Hey, girl, you deserve some recognition too. Thank you for always being so positive and uplifting during these times ♥ Seeing you on the dash is always, always a pleasure, no matter what it is you’re doing. You have such a beautiful heart and I’m beyond thankful to have you, such a talented, amazing, selfless gal, in my life. Don’t you stop being awesome, either. I’m so very proud of all you’ve accomplished this year alone. But, anyways - yes. We’re also so excited to see you return and write again ~ ^_^ I’m looking forward to what’s to come.

   JESSICAAAAAA-- W-WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT??? 😔❤️💕 

   As if my heart isn’t already about to burst from all the love I have for you, you gotta come in and do this when I walked away for a wee bit? P-PLEASE... I don’t know how much more I can take, auheuwh!!! But, oh my dearest bestie, thank you so much for taking the time to send this in. For filling my inbox with so much sweetness aaaaa! ;; 

   Though, it is I that should be thanking you, because lord knows it’s bbies like you that inspire me to better myself. 🥺 Like I told you before not too long ago. During some really tough times, I have found myself going “Okay, calm down... what would Jessica do here?” And... lord has it saved me so so many times now. ;; I tried following in your example. To remember to be as calm, kind and as patient as you... and truly... you have inspired me in more ways than you can possibly imagine. ;; ❤️

   And boy, don’t get me started on what a frigging amazing writing partner you are too (LIKE HECK, gestures at all the stuff you’ve been spoiling me with over these past days AUHEUAW!!!). The fact that we’ve been writing together for uh... about 7-8 years now? Like HOLYYYY TOLEDO! Like what did I do to hit the jackpot with you? To be blessed by your amazingness for YEARS now??? 🥺❤️ Writing pardners like you only come ever so often, and I can’t thank enough whatever unseen force it was that brought together, and for you to have found my RP sideblog (Because I was still too dumb to make a main RP blog ROFL!) that very day. 🥺 

   We have written so many amazing things together, so many bonds, so many ships, so many plots, so, SO MANY THINGS... And made so many things together RP and non-RP related for one another. AND ofcccc, all the casual chats that we get to have with each other... be it just about anime and video games, what’s going on both our ends (Work, school, etc.) and... ofc our plans to met each other one day and wear my Yakuza jackets while I take you on a tour around Singapore!!! 😤❤️ All while always having an absolute blast and being reminded of just how grateful we are to know one another and I’m just... 😭❤️💕

   But okay, I think this young-old lady has rambled on for long enough... I love you, Jessica. You are truly one of my bestest friends, and I will forever speak the universe of you. My funny, adorable, talented buddy bud bud, J. 😔❤️ I am so very proud of you too, especially with how far you have come. And I want you to always remember how I will always be here to support you in any way I can. ;; ❤️ AND BOY HOWDY are you most definitely one of the main reasons I keep getting more excited about writing more on here again!!! LOVE YOU, GIR!!! ❤️💕

@sinstained ❤️💕

[its-ya-boi-autumn]

Hope your day is going well can we get a sexy aggressive chrollo punishing their s/o for acting bratty? Thank you! ❤️

I've been in such a horni boi mood it's actually concerning

also, I’m posting this for 1.3k! Thank you guys and I apologize for the thousandth time for my lousy schedule with writing, this has been in my inbox as have many more and I plan to bust them out when I get the motivation. Thank you for sticking with me and still enjoying my content despite the fact that I’m a little slow, your support and patience is appreciated a lot :’) I suck at talking about emotions but I’m trying to be genuine I know I suck at it. I hope you enjoy this~ (I was uncomfy as hell meaning it’s a good one lol)

You couldn’t help the smirk that edged at your lips as the door slammed shut behind you. The click of a lock signaled your exit being sealed before you were spun around and slammed against the nearest wall, caging you in with his strong arms. Chrollo’s face was threateningly close, his lips allowed quick gusts of air to brush up against your own.

“Aww why are you all upset with me?” your tone was whiny and by God was it annoying. His grey gaze was hard on your face, clearly he’d had enough. You wiggled beneath him, your hands making way up his chest. He wasn’t having it, immediately taking your wrists and pinning them above your head. The mere force stole a rather erotic gasp straight from your throat. It was rare for his patience to run so thin and only you could get him here. But this was exactly what you wanted, and he knew it. Chrollo inhaled deeply before speaking.

“You know damn well why I’m upset with you. I’m not playing your little games tonight. Now is not the time y/n.” the way your name spilled from his mouth sent sparks fluttering around your thighs. Your hips drifted forward before coming into contact with his own.

“It definitely feels like you do~ come on Chrollo, please~?” you weren’t one to give up very easily which was initially what he liked about you. But tonight wasn’t the night for that. He’d have to leave with the troupe in 30 minutes and that was nowhere near enough time to punish you properly.

“I said no.” his voice stayed firm but your legs felt like jelly and you let your body sink against the wall, arms still high above your head. The way your mouth parted in a subtle moan mixed with your slack figure was a sight to behold and he didn’t know how much longer he’d hold off. Especially with your front rubbing up against his hard on.

“Even if you don’t fuck me you’ll have to fix your little friend down there.” you teased, rutting yourself again him again. You were granted a growl from somewhere in his chest, goosebumps slithering all over your skin. Your arms, your thighs, your chest, tingled with the need to be touched. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. He knew you were in need and you’d act like this until you got what you wanted. In fact the more he thought about it the riskier it may have been to leave you like this. For all he knew his phone would be blown up with explicits of your nude form and that was the last thing he needed on the job. You couldn’t fix it yourself since that little sweet spot was too far back for you to reach with your own slender fingers, and he’d refused you any toys unless he specifically used them on you because of his love for your desperation for him. And you were right. He’d have to fix himself before leaving, and Chrollo didn’t finish quickly.

You watched as his thoughts unfolded and you knew he was contemplating it. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hoping he’d give in. Before you knew it you were spun around again, chest and face pressed up against the wall. His breath laid heavy near your ear. He said nothing but he didn’t have to. The throbbing of his cock on your ass said enough. The hand not holding your wrists roughly wound itself up your shirt, tugging insistently on the sensitive bud of your breast. You noticed he couldn’t help but rut himself through his jeans onto your clothed behind. The feeling made you giggle, earning a sharp smack on the ass. Your gasp only made him harder.

Chrollo knew it was a bad idea to draw this out, but your attitude warranted no reward. He needed to see you begging and pleading for him, though currently it seemed as if he were begging for you with the way he was dry humping you. He needed to switch things up a bit.

The feeling of his body parting from yours was cold and sudden, drawing a whine from you. The bulge beneath his zipper was beyond obvious, licking your lips at the sight. You watched your lover make his way for the bed, taking off his black blazer and setting it to the side. Chrollo plopped down on the sheets, patting his thighs.

“Come here princess.” his voice was low, no room for disobedience. You simply did as told, parting your thighs to seat yourself upon his thigh. He stopped you, smirking.

“Not like that,” he started, the look in his eyes hearing your core, “bend over for me.”

It took a moment for the command to process, but he waited. You gulped, sliding off his thigh to bend yourself over them. Your breathing became quite shallow, slight fear taking over your senses. His hand gently placed itself atop your behind, causing you to jump at the contact. This made him chuckle. It showed you hadn’t been quite ready.

“Hands behind your back.” and you did just that, crossing them behind the small of your back. Chrollo gripped your forearms and held them in place. The slight pressure arched your back enough for a slight pang of pain to elicit more wetness to your panties. His hand left your ass, leaving the anticipation of his next move to roll around your head.

“I should be leaving soon, but you’ve been a little too bratty for my liking tonight.” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but you could still hear it. You scoffed.

“I had barely done anything~” you tried to coax him more. A white hot pain stung your ass cheek, followed by a resounding smack bouncing off the walls. You arched at the feeling, digging your teeth into his thigh. He hit you again.

“Lift your head up, I’d like to hear you.” Chrollo ordered your already shaking form. You tried, but it was it good enough for him. Another stinging smack against your skin. He hadn’t even taken your leggings off just yet but you could feel the welt already rising beneath the fabric. Chrollo hit so hard sometimes you had to hold back on the safe word, you knew he’d only gotten started and it’d only piss him off more. Though he’d stop if you asked him.

But all you wanted right now was for him to fuck you, though he didn’t even have the time to do so.

Another slap but this time to the sensitive spot at the very top of your thigh. The moan you let out surprised both of you. It had been louder than expected. Chrollo laughed.

“My my, you’re even needier than I thought sweetheart.” the teasing tone made your blood boil. He was one to talk. You wriggled around in his lap, trying to also get some friction for yourself between your legs. This, of course, earned you yet another smack to your upper thighs.

“Fuck just take them off already!” you whined to Chrollo. Your leggings had become so insufferably constricting and there was almost nothing you could do about it. Chrollo of course found your discomfort amusing but obliged to your wish, tugging the waistband down just enough so it set at the tops of your thighs. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted but it would have to do. You just wanted him to touch you, that was all you needed.

The palm of his hand smoothed over your bare rear, sending sparks of fire across your swollen skin. You jolted at the touch on the welted skin, your hips jumping up slightly. Chrollo slapped your ass once more for good measure, ghosting his hand across your core. His touch made you gasp, keening backwards for more. Another sharp smack.

“Don’t move.” the command had you clenching around nothing, soaking yourself.

“Chrollo please, I need you.” and so began the begging, your voice wobbly from the eagerness of your needs. The hand on your ass spread your cheek a little to the side, exposing cold air to your wet clothed cunt. It made you whimper, willing everything in you to stay still. He parted your thighs for a peek. Chrollo was rather pleased to see that your body’s primal had taken over. Just as he wanted.

“You want me to touch you, don’t you dearest?” the question was rhetorical. It was obvious what you wanted though you nodded anyway. He spanked you again.

“Speak.”

“Yes Chrollo!”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want- want you to touch me.” your response wavered, the sudden shame flooding in your chest. Cheeks–both sets–red and burning, Chrollo gave you another harsh blow, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “Chrollo please!” you tried again, wanting nothing more than his fingers to slip between your folds and prod at that sweet spot in the very back of your pussy. He did as you asked, sliding your ruined panties to the side to reveal your glistening heat, met with chill air all over again. Again your back arched at the sensation, toes curling and mouth hanging open. His middle and ring fingers gather your slick before dipping beneath your inner folds and caressing your walls shallowly. The sigh of relief you let out sent shivers all over your body.

“That feels good doesn’t it angel?” his pet names made your clit twitch. He knew every way to make you submit to him, taking pleasure in your despair. He delved deeper, stretching your pussy with a third finger before gently poking the spongey patch on your upper wall. Your legs started to shake, hips rocking in his lap. Rather than thrusting his digits in and out he simply focused all of his attention on that one patch, poking and rubbing against it generously.

Discharge had began to collect around his fingers, signaling your closeness so early. He withdrew his hands from you, picking you up and pinning you to the bed. He reached into his side table drawer and pulled out the leather handcuffs you’d bought, the purple glitter shining from the lamplight. Chrollo cuffed you to the headboard before getting up from the bed.

“H-hey! Where are you going?” you called out as he walked across the room. He opened the closet doors, rummaging through for something. He held whatever he found behind his back, closing the closet doors back up. He waltzed back over to the bed, revealing the wand in his hand. Checking his watch, he sighed.

“I guess it’s time for me to go now,” he started, plugging the wand into the wall next to your shared bed. He stuffed it between your legs, pressing it against your aching clit roughly. Chrollo turned the setting up so medium and your body instantly reacted. Your thighs clenched around the toy, rutting against it for some friction. His hand came down upon your ass once more making you cry out.

“Don’t come until I get back, understand?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He grabbed his blazer back up and fixed himself up some, just fo be safe. He could fix his little problem in his pants when he found a bathroom, though he wouldn’t have to worry about your antics until he got home. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?” you complained, shaking and tugging at the cuffs that bound your wrists.

“I’ll come back, but I want you to learn your lesson.” he said before leaving the room, you lying in bed, your release so close but always so far.

[junicai]

Ok so; in celebration of another follower milestone? (yous be wilding i love u all sm), my return to a proper posting schedule, and as a little thank you from me to you for just how amazing you’ve all been over the last three months since I’ve started this blog; I’m offering a little, thank-you gift, so to speak.

I’ve decided to open a pop-up café (interactive event) that’ll have open doors to the public for the next three weeks. 

here’s how it works :)

I invite you all to come into Moonlight Café, where you can come up to the counter and order a personalized drink. Depending on the ingredients you decide to include, I’ll slip behind the work station, and craft you a perfect drink to suit your taste buds. 

Your ‘drink’ will be an order placed in the registry. For the next three weeks, the café will be open from 9am to 9pm (GMT), and there will be completed orders each day.

And again, in English this time: I'll be accepting 21 'orders' in total, and upon reaching this, the café will be closing its doors to the public. For the next 21 days after a week of collecting orders; one order will be fulfilled each day.

This marks out in the rough timeline of:

March 29th (Opening + Start of week to collect orders), April 5th (Week 1 // First orders shipped out), April 12th (Week 2 // Expected close of inbox for orders), April 19th (Week 3 // Final week of shipments), 25th April (Final order shipped, + a café special surprise from the owners)

Each 'order' is essentially a personalized request for Aria + the boys; similar to how my requesting system works now, but you get to choose the setting, where in the timeline and with whom it happens. Some stories will be in-canon, and others outside of canon, depending on how pieces fall and I'll tag each as such. Consider this your invitation to interact with Aria!

Welcome to Moonlight Café! We hope you enjoy your stay. <3

Step One: Sorting out your order. 

Here in Moonlight Café, we offer as many different blends of coffee and tea as you can imagine! Please, select your drink from the menu below, and choose some complementary customizations, on the house. 

Regular - A hot drink to warm your insides and leave you feeling cozy. (Fluff)

Iced - Your specially blended drink, poured over ice and shaken to chill your fingertips and the edges of your lips. (Angst)

Whole Milk - A rounded flavor that’s sure to carry the subtle undertones of your selected drink to the peak of their delectability. (Aria + Member(s) - please include their names)

Oat Milk - A thinner milk, but one that’s sure to not overpower the flavors of your drink. (Aria + NCT Dream OT7)

Soy Milk - A perfect choice when you’re not looking to overload your drink with too many things. Simplicity is key. (Aria + NCT 127 OT10)

Almond Milk - A whole flavored milk, one that’s guaranteed to enhance your drink beyond the realms of your imagination. (Aria + SuperM OT7)

Black - Is there another type of milk you’d like to request? I can check in the back for you to see if we have any, just leave your request at the end of your order :) (If there are other combinations of members or idols outside of NCT, you can request that here!)

Caramel Syrup - A classic. Guaranteed to delight the taster. (Backstage happenings)

Chocolate Syrup - Nothing beats a bit of chocolate drizzled over a drink, right? (Dorm life)

Strawberry Syrup - Something sweet to balance out any bitterness in your drink. Be careful with this one, our last supply of syrup came in a little more bitter than we're used to. (Arguments)

Blueberry Syrup - Delicious, but make sure to keep it away from Aria. (Physical hurt/comfort)

Whipped Cream - There’s something about a neat swirl of whipped cream that just makes a drink. An excellent choice. (Touring)

Caramelized Sugar - Warm sugar melted together over the top of your drink; you have to crack this with a spoon! (Sickfic)

White Sugar - An oldie but a goodie. There’s nothing wrong with sticking to the ones that you know. (Emotional hurt/comfort)

Brown Sugar - A little darker in flavor, bursting around the inside of your mouth. (Pre-Debut)

Toffee Bits - Sprinkled on top of your drink, these will melt slowly and infuse with the liquid to give you a soothing taste of pure toffee. (Interviews)

Dried Berries - Dried strawberries, cranberries and blueberries. A little pop of fruity flavor to balance the palate. (Performances + Aftermaths)

Cinnamon Powder - Dusted over your drink right before the lid is popped on, cinnamon is perfect for a warming feel. (Night time shenanigans)

Chocolate Flakes - Chocolate flakes remind me of having decadent hot chocolate as a kid; so we use the finest chocolate to offer you the same melt-in-the-mouth experience. (Sleepy!Aria + Members of your choosing)

Cherry on Top - Now, we have a wide selection of cherries in the back, so I’ll have to ask you to clarify what style you’d like at the end of your order :) (If there are any other fic types/temes you'd like to request, you can do so here)

Step Two: Sending your order in.

Now that you’ve decided on your drink, you can move up to the counter and talk to me (I’m Cassia, hi!) to send in your order. The counter should be up in the right top corner of the shop. (The request button!)

Simply tell me your base and any additions you’d like and I’ll file the order away for preparation. 

And finally, with each order, I'd like you to include a description for your creation! Because we're a temporary café, our menu is constantly changing, and we like to display each new order on our board.

Step Three: Leaving a name.

Now, I’ll need you to leave a name for your order, or else it might get picked up by someone else. Make it as imaginative as possible - I’ll take your name into account when crafting your drink. 

Step Four: Now we wait!

Your order is in progress! I ask for your patience, we’re dreadfully understaffed today, and the coffee grinder keeps spitting back up at me - it’s all a bit of a mess, but we’ll get your drink out to you as soon as possible! 

There will be a rough posting schedule posted and tagged under *moonlight café after the first week of collecting ‘orders’. This is subject to change depending on ingredient availability, but your order will be shipped to you within the allotted 3 weeks. I thank you for your patience! 

Thank you for coming to Moonlight Café, and I’ll hope to see you around here again. 

Our menu -> here!

[hurricanery]

If You Went Away - pt. 5

A/N: I am SO SORRY for posting this so late yikesss. I was struggling with writer’s block so much yesterday, but here’s part 5! I don’t know how I feel about this to be honest, and I’m definitely going to need to post something fluffy next, as a refresher. Previous parts here:

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4

Thank you for reading and sending feedback and prompts! I have some other prompts in my inbox that I definitely want to work on next so thanks for sending stuff!! <3

_______

(present day)

“Alright, Scout,” Link declares as they approach the glass-encased rows of ice cream in the relatively empty shop. “What flavor are you having?”

Scout stands on his tiptoes, peering at the many options in front of him. He bounces excitedly when his gaze lands on something that piques his interest. “Rainbow! I want the rainbow ice cream! With sprinkles!”

Link laughs, and then turns his attention to the young girl working behind the counter. “Okay, we’ll have a small cup of rainbow with sprinkles, I’ll have the….” he trails off, glancing above at their specialized menu items, browsing the different sundae options. “I’ll try the brownie sundae,” he smiles, satisfied with his pick.

Link turns around then, glancing at Amelia, who seems weirdly distracted. He clears his throat and waits for her to snap out of whatever thought spiral she’s in. Her eyes widen momentarily before she looks at him.

“Amelia what are you getting?”

“Um, ya know, I don’t really want anything-”

“Mom you have to!” Scout whines, looking at her like she’s lost her mind.

Amelia holds back a laugh at her son’s facial expression, stepping forward to rest her hands on his shoulders. “You’re right, you’re right,” she mumbles, glancing quickly at the menu. She goes with the first thing she reads on the board. “I’ll have the chocolate moose tracks,” she smiles at the worker.

They pay and get their ice cream and Scout immediately dives in once it’s handed to him.

“Hold on, bud,” Link laughs. “Let’s find a table to sit down at.”

Scout leads them to a table in the corner, a booth. And Link slides in across from him. Amelia stands, hesitating only for a moment before picking a side. She eventually settles next to Scout, smiling tightly at Link across from them.

Scout uses his good hand to attempt spooning some of his ice cream and both parents watch curiously as he struggles to keep the paper cup from sliding away from him as he does so.

“Kind of hard with one hand, huh?” Link laughs.

“Here,” Amelia reaches forward, holding the cup in place on the table so that Scout can get a good spoonful. “How about I hold it while you eat?”

Scout nods, devouring a bite of rainbow ice cream that quickly turns his mouth a shade of blue. Amelia laughs at the mess of blue forming around his mouth.

“I’ll get some napkins.” Link swallows a bite of his own ice cream before standing up.

“Mom?” Scout wonders, mouth full.

“Hm?” She looks down at him, amused.

“How you gonna eat yours if you’re holding mine?” He looks at her in question. “Yours is gonna melt.”

“Scout’s not wrong about that,” Link exclaims as he re-joins them at the booth. He raises his eyebrows at Amelia.

Amelia grimaces, looking down at the cup of ice cream she’d ordered. “Don’t worry about me, Scout,” she mutters, reaching for one of the napkins Link had brought over and beginning to wipe some of the ice cream from Scout’s face. Scout pulls away from her impatiently and Amelia sighs as he goes in for more ice cream. She goes back to holding his cup in place.

“Here, I’ll hold it. So you can eat yours.” Link reaches forward, attempting to replace Amelia’s hand with his own.

Amelia pulls away quickly when Link’s hand brushes against hers. She leans back against her seat, defeated.

“I….ordered the wrong thing,” she mutters, glancing at Link. “It’s fine though, really.”

Link frowns, leaning forward to examine her untouched cup of ice cream.

“Oh,” Link raises his eyebrows. “There’s peanuts on there.”

Amelia nods absentmindedly as she watches Scout continue to make a mess of his face.

“You don’t like peanuts,” Link states his realization. And Amelia ignores the warmth that spreads through her at the fact that Link remembers that.

“Yeah, my fault though. I wasn’t paying attention to what I ordered.” She mutters, biting her lip.

“Switch with me,” Link offers, sliding his own cup towards her.

Amelia frowns. “What?”

“Switch with me. I really only had like two or three bites of mine….”

Scout looks between his parents curiously, holding his gaze on Amelia and the odd look on her face.

“Mommy switch,” Scout repeats his Dad’s intentions. “Hurry before it melts!!”

Amelia laughs at her son’s preoccupation with the idea of melting ice cream. She can’t help but reach forward again to wipe Scout’s face before the mess threatens to drip down his chin and then all over his shirt.

Link sighs noticeably and Amelia glances across the booth at him.

“Well,” Link announces. “I’m just going to eat your ice cream, then.” He looks pointedly at Amelia, speaking matter-of-factly. Scout giggles as he watches his Dad snatch the untouched ice cream from in front of his Mom.

Amelia lets him take it, watching amusedly as Link over-exaggerates his first bite of mostly peanuts.

“And now my ice cream is just going to sit here,” Link mutters around a mouthful. “Unless you eat it, of course.”

Amelia grins, despite herself. Hesitating briefly, before finally deciding to reach forward for Link’s ice cream.

She doesn’t know where the vulnerability comes from. But she feels strangely shy as she takes her first bite of his brownie sundae. Scout giggles excitedly at the switch up and Amelia relaxes at the sound of it.

“How was the rainbow with sprinkles, Scout?” Amelia smiles at his almost empty cup. “Worth it?”

“Mhm,” Scout smiles, revealing a row of blue-stained baby teeth.

“You handled everything today like a champ,” Link chimes in, nodding towards the sling on Scout’s arm. “How does the arm feel?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Scout responds simply, taking his last bite of ice cream.

“That’s impressive, bud,” Link smiles. “You are the bravest kid I know.”

Scout beams at him. But then the smile turns into a yawn.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” Link watches Scout blink tiredly. “Should we head home?” He mutters to Amelia.

Amelia nods, beginning to clean up some of the mess on the table before they exit the booth.

_______

“Okay his teeth are brushed and he’s finally in bed,” Amelia exhales as she enters the kitchen, smiling absentmindedly to herself.

Her smile fades quickly as she takes in Link’s rigid demeanor, where he stands with his back to her, putting away the last of the dishes.

Amelia shuffles hesitantly behind him, reaching into the cupboard for the chamomile tea she’s been looking forward to after a stressful day. She can feel Link turn towards her, feel his eyes bore into her as she prepares her tea. She tries to fight off her impending anxiety at the intensity of a stare she has yet to acknowledge.

Until he clears his throat.

And Amelia wants to jump out of her skin.

The packet of tea drops from her hands and she breathes out.

“Did you want a cup?” She tries.

Link shakes his head.

“Amelia, I think we should talk.”

She turns the kettle on.

“You know…” She mutters, wringing her hands together nervously. “It’s been a crazy day. I….I’m just so tired, maybe it’s not the best time to-”

“Amelia, you can’t keep avoiding it!” He interrupts harshly and Amelia sucks in a breath, turning fully to face him.

She opens her mouth like she’s going to speak, but no words come out. Her teeth clamp together audibly as she offers a blank stare.

“When were you planning on having this conversation, then?” He questions, impatience evident from the frustrating silence on Amelia’s end.

“I don’t know,” she says simply. “I….today was….I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t have time to think it through…” She stutters through the sentence. “And, and last night? I...just don’t know I-”

“Well I think I’ve been patient enough,” he interrupts her again, stepping forward slightly, causing Amelia to retreat.

Amelia nods quickly, blinking as she takes that in. Because yes. He’s been extremely patient. And she’s been extremely unfair.

“You have.” She agrees quietly, barely.

Link just stares at her in question.

“You’re right, you have.” She repeats, this time more clear.

“Well then, talk to me.”

Amelia takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before she speaks.

“I should apologize….for last night,” she laughs bitterly, shoulders raising in discomfort. “I shouldn’t have….” She trails off again, trying to think of the best way to describe her actions. “I shouldn't have thrown myself at you like that.”

Link sighs. And Amelia keeps going.

“And then I….didn’t mean to, I don’t know….freak out after?” Her inflection raises a little bit at the end like she’s unsure. “Anyway, I’m sorry-”

“I’m not asking for an apology, Amelia.”

And now Amelia grows even more perplexed, eyebrows pulling together as she tries to determine his aim here, then.

“I don’t understand-”

“I’m looking for an explanation!” His voice is strained again. “I’m looking for a reason!” His tone grows louder with each point he makes. “I’m looking for us to….for us to figure out what the hell we’re doing!”

He settles a bit after that, but Amelia watches as the exasperated flush takes over his face and neck.

“You’re giving me whiplash, Amelia…” He mutters, quieter this time. “One second you want me gone, you even tell me to go. And then? You turn around and hold that against me? And you’re right! You can’t just throw yourself at me and then act like nothing happened! I just….can’t keep up with you, so please,” he begs, voice reflecting concern. “Please figure out what you want.”

“I know!” She raises her voice defensively. She folds her arms across her chest like she’s self-guarding, helpless tears threatening her eyes. “I know. I don’t know why-”

“Mommy?”

Both Link and Amelia turn around in shock as Scout makes his appearance. He stands in the doorway of the kitchen anxiously, looking between the pair.

“What’s wrong?” Scout mutters sleepily.

Amelia drops her arms, falling out of her defensive stance. She wipes under her eyes before she steps forward towards Scout. “Nothing baby, everything’s fine. Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

“Wait, no,” Link interrupts, also stepping forward. “I’ll take him back up.” He looks purposefully at Amelia. “You stay right here. I’ll be back.”

Amelia retreats, stepping back against the kitchen counter in defeat. She attempts a light-hearted smile when Scout looks back at her, hoping an encouraging head nod is evidence enough that everything is okay. Scout looks away from her. And then they disappear up the stairs.

_______

It’s taking Link a suspiciously long time to return back to the kitchen, and Amelia grows more and more impatient.

She decides there’s probably better use of her time than to stand here desperately, biting her nails.

She climbs the stairs curiously, slowly, following the sound of Link’s voice. She pauses in the doorway to Scout’s bedroom, resting her head against the frame of the slightly open door. She doesn’t make her appearance known. She just listens silently.

“Okay, bud?” She hears Link explain. “I don’t want you to worry. Nothing’s wrong….we’re just….a little stressed from your fall earlier.”

“But I’m not hurt anymore. So don’t be mad.” Scout whispers back in a pleading tone and Amelia’s eyes sting with guilt.

“Right,” Link agrees. “No one’s mad. And you’re not hurt. Because you were brave. The bravest 5-year-old I know.”

“I am?”

“For sure!” Link exclaims, overly cheerful. “You must get it from your Mom.”

Amelia can hear Scout’s giggle at the way Link tends to oversell his excitement.

“Your Mom was a very brave 5-year-old, too.”

“Why was she brave?”

Amelia gasps quietly from the hallway, cursing herself when she realizes the otherwise quiet of the room. She peers up to watch Link turn his head only slightly in her direction, aware of her presence.

“She just was.” Link says simply, shrugging along with his words. “But it’s time for you to go to sleep, okay?”

“Mkay.”

Amelia turns on her heels, heading quickly down the hallway towards their bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands together as she listens for Link to approach.

From her line of vision, she watches his feet as he enters the room. And then she feels him sit down on the bed next to her.

They sit side by side.

“You were a brave kid, too.” Amelia says, voice raspy as she turns her head to the side to look up at Link. She frowns a little bit, puzzled. It’s not like she ever had to take on a cancer diagnosis during childhood. “Don’t give me all the credit.”

Link nods, holding eye contact.

“Amelia, I think….” He gathers his thoughts, exhaling and looking up at the ceiling. “No, I know….that I don’t want to do to Scout, what my parents did to me.”

Amelia stares at him as his eyes scan the ceiling. She nods in understanding.

“You know I even tried to parent-trap them once, did I ever tell you that?” He laughs a little bit, breathlessly.

Amelia nods. And smiles tightly. “You did tell me that.” Her voice sounds weak.

“And I also know, that….that people always leave, right?” He turns to her again, resuming eye contact. And he watches as Amelia registers his words. Her words. Words she could have said herself. “Everyone always leaves, right?”

She frowns at the sudden accuracy of it all.

“And in some ways….you push people away….before they can hurt you, right?”

She doesn’t say anything. He’s reading her like a book and ultimately it stuns her.

“Well,” he lets out a breath, hands dropping forward to rest against his knees. “I’m going to do everything to prove the opposite to you….if that’s okay.”

Amelia exhales a shaky breath. And suddenly it’s her turn to look at the ceiling. She averts her eyes as she takes in his sentiment.

“Okay,” is all she can manage to mutter.

“Okay,” Link repeats, peering at Amelia as she tries to suppress a yawn. “Crazy 24-hours, huh?”

Amelia swallows her yawn, blushing despite herself. Still not able to refrain from cringing at the previous night’s events.

“What do you say we just go to bed?” Link offers.

Amelia looks at him, tiredly. Apologetically.

“Sleep on it?” He continues. He knocks his knee into hers playfully, raising his eyebrows at her.

Amelia hesitates only slightly, looking down between them, before nodding to herself and to him. “Sleep on it,” she agrees.

//

[dylan-o-yumm]

Hi how about Nero’s struggling with demonic feelings as he’s just activated his true devil trigger and he’s having sexual thoughts about being in devil trigger but he can’t do it with Kyrie because he’d rip her apart literally and he starts finding himself attracted to female devils? Just a random thought I was having lol

Warnings: Rough sex, biting, hair pulling, choking, breaking furniture, dt sex, tiniest bit of oral, fem reader, talk of cheating, but this is all consensual! Nothing about this is labeled as Nero being unfaithful to Kyrie.

Note: Look, we all know he’d never sleep with another person when he’s in a relationship with Kyrie, but for the sake of fiction… Lol (Also I haven’t written in MONTHS so this is trash, I apologise) IMPORTANT NOTE! I won’t be taking any more requests. I will go back to writing more, and you guys can always come fill my inbox with Nero thoughts or literally whatever, but I’m struggling with requests atm so I’m just gonna put that on hold for now. Thanks for understanding, lovelies. 

“Look, you’re cute and all, but I’m not going to have sex with you. You’re not exactly single, Nero…” You state in a matter-of-fact tone as you enter the van after an easy and quick mission with the white haired devil hunter. A bunch of lesser demons here and there, nothing too big or scary to exhaust you of all your energy.

You’d been friends with Nero for years, going on missions with him whenever you could, meeting up on days off and hanging out with him and his beautiful soon-to-be wife. You had heard and done many odd things with him in the past, but this was definitely the weirdest thing he had ever asked of you… and most inappropriate? Mature? Sexual?

“You’re lucky I’m not going straight to Kyrie and telling her you’re an unfaithful, cheating, little—“ You begin, voice rising and getting more and more aggressive with every word. Even your eyes began to glow a bright red, getting beyond pissed off for your dear friend, the adorable little songstress. Nero had no right to ask you for sexual favours when he was meant to be in a happy relationship with her. If he wasn’t in a relationship with her though… well, that would be another story.

He was a very handsome devil, even more so after he cut his hair and… you know, grew an arm back. You even had a crush on him before you met Kyrie, following him around like a lost puppy until you quickly realised he had eyes for someone else. Eh, it happens.

“She’s okay with it! Jesus calm down…” Nero raised his voice, unable to meet your eyes as a dark red shade covered his cheeks. He was obviously nervous and embarrassed about what he had asked of you, yet here he was, still trying to convince you.

On your way back to the van only a few minutes prior, Nero was telling you how he was finding himself more and more rough and… a little over excited in the bedroom as they days went on. He was concerned for Kyrie’s safety since he feared he’d end up hurting her, and wondered if he could “let off some steam” with a demon girl such as yourself.

You knew he would end up hurting Kyrie if he kept trying to be gentle with her, all while his demonic side was screaming for more. Hell, he’d rip her apart. Sleeping with a human when you had a raging demon inside of you, desperately clawing its way out, hungry for more… it rarely ended well.

You knew what Nero needed and you guessed he had figured it out too, since he was asking you, of all people, to help him out. It just felt wrong while he was still dating Kyrie. If he left her, then you’d have no problem with it… only, he would have broken your best friends heart and therefore you’d stomp him into the ground… Okay, maybe there would be a problem with it.

“She’s okay with it? Am I meant to just believe that?” You frown, crossing your arms over your chest and waiting for Nero to stop lying.

“Yeah…? It was actually her idea.” Nero stated softly this time, scratching his nose in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but scoff and turn away from him. There was no way he was telling the truth! “Look, I know it’s weird, but you’re the only demon chick I know and actually trust. And Kyrie trusts you too, so doesn’t that count for something?” Nero continued, reaching out to you, desperately trying to get you to believe him, trust him.

That was the thing, you did trust him. So, why was it so hard for you to believe him on this?  

Narrowing your eyes, Nero could tell you were still clearly suspicious.

“You wanna call her right now and see if I’m lying or not?” He waved his hand over to the phone sitting on the dash of the van, surrounded by Nico’s discarded cigarette buds.

“Yes, actually I do.”

~*~

Turns out Kyrie was okay with it. She set some rules and begged you not to sleep with Nero more than what was needed to help his demonic urges, to which you swore on your life it would never happen again without her say so. It must have been hard for the sweet, little songstress, but she seemed rather… okay with it, oddly enough. She trusted both you and Nero 100% and knew you’d both respect her wishes no matter the cost.

Which is why you were able to look down at Nero’s golden eyes and angelic blue skin as his pointed teeth sunk into the armoured flesh of your thigh. Your backside was resting atop the workbench in your garage while your clawed fingers scratch Nero’s scalp, combing through his long white hair.

The two of you thought you might as well bring things back to your place, save the van from any damage that was bound to happen from two demons fucking like wild animals. Also you knew Nico wouldn’t appreciate the stench of sex in her van… so there was that too.

The longer Nero’s sharp teeth teased your thighs and groin, the armoured plating between your legs slowly parted, opening up to reveal your slick, wet folds that were throbbing and clenching for him. You were eager to see and feel just how big he was, ready for him to fill your cunt and plow you as hard as he wanted. The thought alone made you bite your lip and inch your hips close to his face.

His eyes widened when he finally saw your heat, and you could see his cheeks reddening even when his skin was the gorgeous blue that it was. He inched forward shyly before parting his lips and letting his tongue slither along your slick, tasting your arousal. You hummed, wanting more. He growled, needing more.

“I would like for this to be a one time thing — for Kyrie’s sake, so make sure to be as rough and wild as you need to be… Satisfy all your demonic urges, handsome” Your voice was breathy and distorted, rumbling in your throat and echoing off your tongue. You continued to play with his hair, leaning back on one hand to get a better view of him between your legs, cursing yourself for already wanting this more than this one time.

He simply looked up at you with a newfound hunger in his eyes as he sunk his teeth into your thigh, breaking through the armoured skin and drawing blood. You purred, biting your lip and stifling the little smirk that threatened to pull at the corners of your mouth, watching his long, dark tongue lap at the crimson droplets.

“Should we have a safe word?” Nero wondered, his voice also distorted, sending tingles down to your core. Even now, he was still very sweet and caring, though he was licking your blood off his lips and the look in his eyes was dangerous and hungry, like a wolf staring down its prey. Your legs quivered in excitement.

“Nah. I’m stronger than you anyway, I’ll just push you away or knock you out if you go overboard” You hummed innocently, tilting your head to the side in a teasing manner. You couldn’t have him worrying or holding himself back, otherwise this would all be for nothing. He’s meant to be letting loose and satisfying the beast— or in this case, demon — within.

He scoffed and shook his head with a little ‘all right then.’

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin in your talon-like claws and forced him to look up at you. Your voice dropped to a commanding tone, serious and almost threatening as you leaned down to get closer to his face, your heated breaths making the strands of hair by his face sway back and forth. You give him the permission he needs, you demand, order him to let go.

“Go overboard.”

Nero’s eyes widen ever so slightly, his blue lips parting as he stares up at you like an innocent puppy begging to be pet. You can practically feel his heart beat thumping excitedly as you continue to hold his chin, being mindful of the cute little spikes.

“I can take it.” You whisper, nodding slowly as your eyes flutter down to his lips. You so desperately want to kiss him, but you refrain from doing so. Even though you were about to be very intimate with him, kissing him just felt too… wrong? Kyrie didn’t say she had anything against you kissing him, but he was still hers, you weren’t about to start selfishly kissing him just because you want to.

Either way, Nero doesn’t give you time to kiss him as he stands up abruptly and causes you to quickly flinch back, not wanting him to headbutt your chin on his way up. He quickly grabs your wrist before you can fall backwards, holding you steady as he slots himself between your thighs.

He smirks at you, and at first you thought it was just because he was being cocky, but as you raised an eyebrow to question him, his grip on your wrists tightened and he bought you hands up above your head, pushing you back roughly until your back slams against the workbench.

You legs instinctively come up to rest on his hips as he leans over you, the workbench being the perfect height for him to stand and fuck you while you lie down on your back. There was a slight pain in the back of your head from being slammed down, but you only purr in delight, too turned on to even care at this point.

The plating on his crotch was still hiding his cock, much to your disappointment. Meaning you had to work for it, just like he did for you.  

Your hips grind and rotate against him as he leans down to bite and suck on your neck, the both of you panting and moaning as Nero’s plates slowly open up.

Your hands explore his back, tangling up his Rapunzel-like hair as your fingers dip over every curve and bump of his muscles. His body moving against yours as he grinds against your wet heat is addictive, his chest and stomach brushing up against your torso, as if teasing you that he isn’t yours.

But you’re okay with that.

Finally feeling his cock rutting against your sopping cunt and not the hard plating that shielded him away from you, you shiver in delight and bite your lip. Looking down, you see what you had been waiting for. His fully erect, thick, veiny cock, leaking precum and dribbling onto your plated stomach.

“Shit…” You cuss as your eyes widen at the sight of him, practically drooling.

“Don’t go runnin’ scared now” Nero smirks cockily as he looks down at himself then back up at you through his pretty eyelashes.

Your eyes meet his as you can only scoff, playfully shoving him away but just as quickly pulling him back to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, you bite his ear harshly, earning a pleased shiver from the devil hovering over you.

“You gonna stand there all day talking about your dick, or are you gonna put it to good use?” You tease, purring into his ear after licking where you bit.

When he doesn’t speak or move, you wonder if you had offended him, placing your clawed hands on the sides of his face to get him to look at you. Though, when you expect to see him pouting or frowning, you’re taken aback when you see his lips curled upward and his sharp teeth shining at you. You open your mouth to question him, but get cut off abruptly by your own scream of pain, pleasure and surprise.

“Hnng—holy fuck! Give a girl some warning next time, asshole!” You screech as his cock rests comfortably inside your velvety walls. He had pushed himself all the way in to the hilt in one swift motion, giving you no chance to adjust to his thickness, but to be completely honest, his roughness only turned you on all the more.

“Still don’t want a safe word, you little baby?” He mocks, teasing you by not moving his hips an inch. All you could feel was his hard member throbbing excitedly against your slick walls, making you whine out, desperate for him to give it to you good and hard.

You shake your head, managing to smirk back at him as your hands move up to the back of his head, tangling in his white hair and pulling him down so you can latch your lips onto his neck. Biting, licking, kissing, pleading with your actions for him to please fucking move.

He seems to get the hint.

His hand suddenly worms its way between your lips and his neck, cupping your mouth as he parts himself from you. He keeps his hand there for a moment, leaning back to stare down at your awaiting body before he slowly drags it down to your neck. Wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat, claws digging into the back of your neck but he doesn’t squeeze or press down.

His long tongue snakes over his pointed teeth, that same cocky grin on his lips as he finally draws his hips back and slams forward as fast and hard as he can. Not giving you a second to adjust or brace yourself as he repeats the action over and over and over again.

“Oh, my fucking— ah!” You gasp and yelp, eyes squeezing shut. The pain subsided quickly as the tip of his cock brushed against the spongy spot within your walls, causing a whole slur of cusses and moans to spill past your lips as you claw and scratch at his armoured back.

“Fuckin’ tight” He growls, claws digging into you, eyes darkening and his movements growing harsher and harsher by the second.

You last about ten thrusts before you feel the workbench wobbling a bit too much for you liking, lurching back and forth in time with his thrusts. Your mind is a bit too focused on his thick cock nicely massaging your insides to even worry about potentially breaking the bench, though when you hear a crack sound from underneath you, your moans come to an abrupt stop.

Nero’s eyes are shining a dark red, much different to his angelic golden orbs that you’re used to seeing. He’s clearly giving in to his demonic urges like you wanted, only…

“Uh… Nero—“ You’re cut off when the bench suddenly cracks even louder and you’re suddenly falling to the floor. The wooden bench crumbles in pieces, the legs caving in and folding at an awkward angle as it finds its new home on the floor of your garage.

You wonder why your back hasn’t hit the floor yet, still waiting for the impact. Though when your focus pulls back to Nero — who hadn’t stopped fucking you — you are surprised to see two angelic, blue wings curled around to support your weight. Much softer than you imagined, cozy and warm like a nice blanket for you to cuddle into while you have your guts rearranged.

Your eyes roll back as you focus back on Nero completely, your hands coming down to grip at his forearms. You have no idea how the workbench breaking managed to take your mind off of what he is doing to you because, damn does he know how to put his hips to good use.

“You’re still holding back… I can tell” You whimper. While he was pleasing you very nicely, you had to remember why you were here with him.

He responds with a dark growl that shakes your entire body, even feeling it rumble deep within your chest. You gasp as he suddenly has you up right, slamming your back into the drywall and moving his wings to shelter you in. His hands grip your ass tightly, squeezing your cheeks as best he can while the plating protects your body.

“Better?” He growls, his voice somehow deeper and scarier, though the fact that he’s slowly letting loose and giving you his all has you dripping your arousal all over his cock and onto the floor.

You nod frantically as your eyes roll to the back of your head again, the new angle somehow letting him reach places you didn’t even know were possible to reach. The textured plating on his lower stomach brushed against your swollen clit from this angle, stimulating you everywhere you needed to be stimulated.

It suddenly dawned on you why you were here right now. There is no way Kyrie would ever survive this. This was far too dangerous for a human. The tip of his cock would be right up at your throat if he fucked you like this in your human form. You’d be split into two.

He effortlessly picked you up and dropped you back down onto his cock, all while thrusting up into you at the same time. Your moans turned into screams and you wouldn’t be surprised if someone came knocking on your door, asking if you were okay. Obviously, you were more than okay.

You hear a crunch beside your head, turning ever so slightly when Nero cusses under his breath to see his ethereal wing had crashed through the wall in his excitement. Flakes of white drywall fall onto his feet as he pries his wing out, sadly making an even bigger hole in the process.

You want to make a comment about him paying for the things he’s broken, but your words die on your tongue as you grip his shoulder tightly. He holds you down on his leaking cock as he brings you to the floor, sitting on his knees before setting you down.

“You keep squeezin’ my dick like that,’m not gonna last much longer” Nero snaps, almost sounding angry at you as he flips you over onto your stomach effortlessly. You hadn’t even noticed how your walls were acting to him, but now that you were aware of it, they were continuously clamping down around him and sucking him in deeper, trying to keep him trapped within your slick.

“Stop whining and fuck me, asshole” You huff back.

“My pleasure.” He purrs before gripping your hip with one hand, digging his talons into the softer part of your skin and scratching you up. The marks healed quickly, but he continued to tear into you, whether on purpose or not, you didn’t quite care. His other hand went to your hair, pushing your head down so your ass was up for him and your cheek was pressed against the cool cement of your garage floor.

Nero props his right foot up beside your ribs while the left lies flat on the floor, his knee supporting half of his weight, and his right foot supporting the other half. From this position, he easily grips your hips and fucks into you at a brutal pace, giving you no time to brace yourself.

His hips smack against yours loudly, causing you to lurch forward with each hit, but thankfully his large hands move you right back to his cock, keeping you nice and full. The stretch had you crying out, feeling his thickness split you open with every pass, all his veins rubbing against your tightness…

Your eyes roll back yet again and your tongue flops out of your mouth as you take everything he’s giving to you. You can’t help but smile dumbly, completely fucked out and you hadn’t even cum yet.

“S-so good…Keep g-going!” You moan, digging your palms into the floor and pushing yourself back onto him as best you can. The noises he makes in return are completely arousing, if you weren’t already dripping on his cock, you’d be soaking through your panties for sure.

He pistons inside you at a great speed, using all his demonic strength to please you and himself. Poor little Kyrie is missing out, you shamefully think to yourself. Your hips start to hurt after a while, the constant slamming of his against your own creating a dull ache. Nothing you can’t handle, you honestly loved it.

“I’m cl—oooh!” You moan as he shifts his hips ever so slightly so his cock hits your sweet spot over and over and over. You don’t bother trying to speak again, figuring he got the hint as he somehow sped up even faster.

Another minute passes and you’re a whimpering, moaning mess. Drool oozes out of your mouth and glides down your cheek while you struggle to even keep your eyes open as you dance on the edge of your orgasm.

Your thighs shake intensely as you cry out, tears pooling in your eyes as your claws scratch and permanently dent the floor. Your walls spasm around Nero’s cock as your climax washes over you, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming too loud, but it doesn’t stop you from whining as loud as possible, almost sobbing as the pleasure begins to be too much.

Nero grunts and groans as he continues to fuck you roughly, snapping his hips against yours a few more times before his movements stutter and he’s moaning loudly up at the ceiling. You squeak from overstimulation as you feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you before a warm, sticky fluid is coating your inner walls and filling you up nicely.

Nero whimpers as he pulls out of you and collapses onto the floor beside you, while you continue to hold your ass in the air and let the cold air cool the heat between your legs. You stay like that for a moment, before letting yourself shift back to your human form, a bright, golden light shining in the garage before you’re laying there, no longer armoured or demonic looking.

Perks of devil triggering before sex? No need to get dressed. Your clothes were back on your body in an instant.

Rolling over onto your back, you pant heavily as you stare up at the ceiling. Covered in sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, thighs and groin burning, and a dull ache throbbed within your walls. Your pussy clenched around nothing, causing cum to dribble out of you and stain the floor. Perfect, you thought. You couldn’t help but grin as your mind stayed in its own little daze from the brutal, but delicious, fucking you just received.

Nero pants heavily as well, his body shining a gorgeous blue before he is back to his human form, laying beside you, also staring up at the boring ceiling. His legs felt like jelly, but other than that, he had this oddly calm and relaxed feeling deep inside him. It was like his demonic side had been completely satisfied and decided to go to sleep for a while.

He sighs with a smile, a sign that he’s relaxed and this whole… thing, seemed to work out. You turn your head to the side to look at him, beginning to chuckle softly, just at the sheer randomness of this whole situation. Nero starts to chuckle too until both your soft laughter is all that can be heard in the small garage.

“I hope you can make love to your fiancé without almost killing her now.” Reaching over, you pat his chest three times before forcing yourself to sit up, ready to go back to your normal life and go to cook dinner for yourself.

[nicoletterogers]

— && guests may mistake me as ( brie larson ), but really i am ( nicolette "nic" rogers + cisfemale + she/her/hers ) and my DOB is ( 04/17/1989 ). i am a ( detective with the chiacgo police department ) and would like to stay in suite ( 302 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( + loyal & plucky ), but i can also be ( - single minded & impulsive ) at times. personally, i like to ( archery, rock climbing, playing the guitar ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( white cheddar popcorn ) to have in my suite. thank you for checking in! 

hello my loves--its me, nika, here with another muse to shower you all with. check below to get to know detective nicolette rogers and her spunky little self. as always, let a girl know if you wanna plot--feel free to send a message to my inbox, hit me up on discord, like this post or send a carrier pigeon, i don’t discriminate between contact options. (tw: death, gun violence, parent leaving/broken home) 

B A C K S T O R Y

born & raised in good ol’ chi town--never left, at least not for long. loves it here immensely, couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. mom was a clerk at a local publishing house and dad worked in construction after he finished his tour of duty as an army man. her older brother was a detective in the chicago police department, but more on him later. 

mother ran out on the family when nic was eight for her boss, head of the publishing company that she worked for. didn’t even bother to say goodbye--just up and left without a word. her dad was heartbroken and left to support his two kids alone, something he was not prepared for. 

see, her dad always wanted sons not daughters, so nic’s surprise arrival was nothing short of a nightmare for him. of course he loved his daughter, but he didn’t have any sisters of his own and had never grown up around women. so he kind of, pushed her into more stereotypical masculine things, as a way for him to not have to worry about raising her any differently. sure there were moments of pure panic for him (hello, time of the month) but he seemed to be pleased with himself. 

meanwhile, nic could tell that she was definitely the least favorite child. her brother was always the golden boy and her father spend exponentially more time with him than he ever did with her. however, that didn’t mean that her brother and her didn’t have a good relationship. 

nic was often teased growing up because she didn’t have a mom and came from a lower ses part of town. so her brother became her closest friend and she adored him. she looked up to him, tried to be like him. she thought she might get her father to love her if she succeeded. 

but the difference was that everyone liked her brother--he was calm, organized and confident. nic, on the other hand, was plucky and sassy and seemed to crave chaos in a way her brother never did. she wouldn’t ever be like him, and it kind of broke her heart to know her father would never be proud of her. so she did her own thing, made a life for herself that wasn’t always emulating her older brother. she was determined to get her life right, the way she was convinced her dad hadn’t. 

however, she and her brother were still very close and they’d often have a meal together at least once a week. he’d regale her with stories of his time at the department, and she--working as a beat cop on a completely different schedule--enjoyed giving him a hard time about what he could have or should have done. it was a rather happy time in her life--one she enjoyed for many reasons. 

(tw: death, gun violence) but, y’know, life isn’t happy for long. on a cool spring evening, her brother was walking home from weekly dinner with nic. he had taken a longer route than usual because he wanted to enjoy the finally warmer air of the city. as he made his way home, he heard rustling in an alleyway and assumed it as a cat stuck in a cardboard box--turns out it as not, and with a flash of light and a louder bang, her brother was no longer with us. when nic found out, she was distraught. broken.

the only reasonable thing to do is, of course, honor her brother by becoming a detective in the CPD...except her father is none too pleased with this idea and, in one of their famous fights, tells her that “girls can’t do that job.” turns out, that is not what you say to a stubborn, grieving woman because that just makes her do it more. truly though, her father was just terrified he’d lose her too but once again, he wasn’t good with his emotions and couldn’t express that. 

so nic became detective nicolette rogers to honor her brother...and to see if she couldn’t solve the mystery of her brother’s passing, finally avenging him. her new role gave her the seperation she needed from the pain of both losing her father and husband and, perhaps for the first time in her life, finally flt.

H E A D C A N N O N S

important note: nicolette never goes by her full name--it’s nic or anything else, but never, ever nicolette.

she is the biggest fan of chicago sports--catch her cheering for the cubbies all day long. and don’t forget da bears. 

her last meal would include: a chicago dog from wrigley field with a baja blast and white cheddar popcorn. and probably a slice of cheesecake for desert. 

nic loves helping people--it is why she originally started working in the police force to begin with. even now, as a detective, she goes does the youth education program, going into schools and doing workshops for the students in the local school districts (think detective jj bittenbinder but...significantly less creepy). 

her favorite show is--yes, cliche but she’s ok with that--brooklyn 99 and she absolutely adores amy santiago. 

she rides a motorbike mostly because she likes the wind waving in her hair. 

but don’t get her confused--she’s the biggest dork you’ll ever met, loves people and adores babies, and will help literally anyone who asks. her hearts a little...shredded at the moment but she does her best to be good. 

P L O T S

Best/Close Friends

Childhood Friends

Police Force Buds

Police Force...Enemies???? 

Flings

idk im always down for plots leggo

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Nineteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to everyone who offered up their inbox for submissions to give @javistg a break from posting so much from me. Please enjoy the nineteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 19 ~~

After a restless night, I am dreading breakfast. It feels as though I have lived a lifetime since yesterday, an eon since Peeta left Everdeen. Mary frets over me and how pale I am as she helps dress me. I drag my still tired body down the stairs and into the breakfast room. Madge and I will need to visit Johanna to see to her bandages, and that means I will need a hearty meal to fortify me.

My mind still grapples with the matter of hiding Johanna here at Everdeen and all of the details she revealed to me. A brush fire on the battlefield as Peeta tended to her, a drummer — So then it was while he was caring for Johanna that he was scarred. An enemy soldier attacking them and —

My stomach revolts unexpectedly and I pause, reaching a hand out to steady myself on a convenient piece of furniture in the hall.

She said that Peeta cut the man the way you slaughter a pig. It should not surprise me, this knowledge that my husband who served in the infantry was required to kill a man.

Like slaughtering a pig. With no emotion in her voice. I have seen pigs and chickens slaughtered for the table, I have felled deer and other game. It is a cold, emotionless task. It almost need be, otherwise one would starve. With deer, sometimes the arrow or the musket ball is not enough for a kill. I myself have needed to wield a knife to slice a throat. Yet as I attempt to imagine doing so to a man…

I see eyes. Eyes of so many I have called friend, family, love. And I can imagine no further. The one time my father attempted to teach Primrose how to hunt, she cried over the dead animal and begged him to take it home with us, claiming there was still a chance we might save the poor dear. He was still alive, Prim insisted. She could see it in his eyes! My father had closed the rabbit’s eyes and maneuvered my sister away from the sight, holding her and comforting her while I was left to deal with the task of skinning the beast. I can understand her trepidation now.

Then I think of that day in Aunt Effie’s garden, when Peeta drew a knife to withdraw thorns from my palm. The ease with which he wielded it. My head spins and I take a few deep breaths as I remind myself of the rest of what Johanna said. He was tending to a wounded patient and they were attacked. Mayhaps Peeta killed a man, but it would have been done in defense of himself and of her, for surely the other soldier would have killed them both had Peeta not acted swiftly.

Perhaps it is not the irrefutable knowledge that my husband has killed that upsets me, for I too have killed, albeit for utterly different reasons. They are not the same. Not the same at all. No, I wonder now if what troubles me most is the reconciliation of the gentle man I believe him to be with the callous picture Johanna described. I know my husband. He is no murderer and he is certainly not heartless. How then does he face the killing of another person in such proximity. Surely he must have seen the other man’s eyes? But then the other man must have seen Peeta’s as well.

I think then of the drawings, the way he describes the agony and anguish and guilt of war. Of losing someone in his care… How his drawings draw such focus to the eyes. It stands to reason that he feels a similar mix of terrible emotions in regards to those he was forced to kill.

The reminder helps calm the churning in my middle, enough that I am able to continue on to the breakfast room. I wonder though at my husband never telling me of this in all his confessions of the night. If I am honest with myself, I am upset that Johanna knows more of him than I. How much of that is owing to my newfound knowledge of her sex, I cannot be certain. It did not concern me much when I thought her a man. She has known him for years, she said, whereas I have only known him months.

Perhaps he sought to protect me from the horrors he has committed, or perhaps it disturbs him enough that he did not wish to speak of it. Perhaps we are simply not to the point where he feels at ease speaking of those moments with me. I resolve to do as he has done. Have patience and trust that he will tell me when he is prepared to trust me with this part of his past.

I sit at table and force some egg down my throat. The room is wretchedly quiet and unusually hot given that I am rather early, likely the first to rise today… until Primrose wanders in.

She halts in the doorway and runs her hands over the bodice of her dress. She is so lovely. Fresh as morning dew and beautiful as the rose for which she was named. Her words last night, however, taint the air between us.

“Prim—“

“How is Joe?” Our words overlap and I turn my attention to buttering my toast. I am unaccountably famished for the level of queasiness I feel. Food is simple, usually, and so I keep my eyes on that as I speak.

“He will be fine. Madge and I will see to his wounds. He sends his apologies for his harsh words last night.”

“He was in a great deal of pain, no doubt. Sometimes we are more harsh than we intend to be when we are in pain… are we not?” Prim says this softly and I glance over at her as she fills her plate.

“Yes. I suppose sometimes we are.”

“Katniss, I am…I must apologize. My words yesterday—“

“I mean only to protect you. I do not want you to feel that you have settled in your marriage.”

“Have you settled?” She asks, turning to the table with sparks in her eyes.

“At first I thought I did,” I admit to her. “I did not wish to marry at all, I thought. But I was fortunate. It is a great turn of luck that while my hand may have been forced into marriage, I could not have asked for a better husband. I wished for you to be free as I was not to choose your husband.”

She makes a strange noise and flounces to the table, sitting with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. “Then why can you not trust me to know my own heart and the strength of Rory’s character?”

“Perhaps because you speak so little of him.”

“You did not wish to hear.”

“I do now, Little Duck.”

Primrose arranges her skirts suddenly, perfectly delicate and ladylike. I smother a smile as I think of what Johanna might say of my sister this morning.

“I am not certain it matters now,” she says forlornly.

“Is that the only thing he said on the matter of your season? That it was for the best?” She nods and sniffles. I sigh to myself. “It is not much to go on. Is it possible he meant only that were you to have a season, it would strengthen your feelings for him, at least the certainty of them. If you are truly meant to be with Rory, then a few suitors would not change this. You’ve not interacted with a great deal of gentlemen.”

Primrose considers this as she begins to eat. “I suppose it possible. I would need to be careful in my wording when I ask him if that is what he intended.”

“Perhaps consult with Madge on this, as she seems to have a more delicate way with both words and men than I,” I suggest and she nods, seemingly resolved. I ask her again to tell me of him and listen as she speaks. She paints a rather rosy picture of the man, and while I am glad that she seems to have such tender feelings for her suitor, I cannot help but think that he sounds too good to be real. I do not mention that she has drawn most of her conclusions from his letters. Words are fine things and quite important, but it is our deeds and actions that truly make a marriage.

Slowly, the household awakens. Tasks await me, and I leave the breakfast room shortly after Madge and Maysilee enter it. Although, I am pleased when Prim rises to walk out with me. I do not wish strife between us.

A dizziness sweeps over me as we walk and I once more must use the furniture to steady myself.

“Katniss?” Prim asks as I close my eyes to halt the room from spinning. “Katniss are you unwell?”

“Only tired,” I tell her as she touches me. I draw strength from the contact although I still feel faint.

“Are you certain you do not wish me to see to Joe? You never had much stomach for such things.”

“Nay,” I say and she lifts one brow before leaning close to me.

“You know… I am quite good at keeping secrets.” I stare at her and mull over the weight of her words. Truthfully, her care would be much better for Jo. I could manage, but Prim is a budding, brilliant healer in her own right. The more I think of facing bandages and wounds not yet healed, the worse I feel.

Yet…Johanna has only grudgingly trusted me with her secret. “I have promised to see to him, and he is Peeta’s friend. This task falls to me, Little Duck.”

“Oh very well,” Prim says, and huffs but leans close once more. “At least allow me to make some ginger root tea for you. You look positively green.”

“Green?” I ask and she nods. “Yes, that might be just the thing I need.”

She smiles at this and helps me towards the study. I see to a few tasks and sip the tea when Primrose brings it to me. It does soothe the roiling in my middle. Shortly after the nausea dissipates, so does the feeling of being overheated, just in time for Madge to join me. We gather what supplies we will need, and ride out to the cottage where Jo lives.

“Well I think you for not having the esteemable Mr. Crane visit me,” Johanna says as she opens the door before moving stiffly back to the bed.

Her cottage is humble but tidy. A bottle of orange and bergamot scented oil warms by the fire, one of the products of this very farm. Shirts await mending in a basket and a simple breakfast of egg and roll sit half eaten on a platter next to the chair. There are no delicate or personal touches to denote who lives here, save for the wide brimmed hat Johanna usually wears.

“I would not wish his sermons on my worst enemy,” I mutter as Madge directs Johanna to remove her shirt and lay on her stomach.

“I’d wager your ears burn right off when he starts in talking lust and carnal sins. Do those feel aimed at you, Kitten?” I glare at her and Madge hushses her. “S’nothing to be ashamed of. Every man is considered virile for his urges. Why shouldn’t we? How else does one get in the family way?”

“By laying back and just holding on until it’s over,” Madge suggests and Johanna snorts.

“Children are work enough on their own. Making them ought to at least be enjoyable as consolation. I’ve been fortunate in that regard on both ends. Plenty of enjoyment, no children. And you have too, haven’t you, Mrs. Mellark?” I smile at her and saw away at her bandages along the sides. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Oh I am so sorry, Johanna,” I purr and she scowls at me but then starts laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After we have seen to Johanna and return to Everdeen, the daily post brings happy tidings for both Everdeen sisters.

For Prim, a letter from Mr. Rory Hawthorne, adamantly expressing regrets over his hasty words and clarifying that he only meant that Prim deserves a season and a chance to be certain of whom she wishes to marry.

“A season full of suitors praising you will in no way diminish my affections for you, and I greatly regret that my last may have given the impression of such,” she reads aloud to Madge and I during a quiet moment. “My feelings will hold steady and patient. Although, I confess that I will be among the first in line, begging a dance or calling for tea, lest you forget me in all the attentions sure to be heaped at your toes.”

While I still hold my doubts in regards to Mr. Hawthorne, the letter does much to soothe my fears for my sister.

As for my fears in regards to my own marriage, a letter arrives from Peeta as well to soothe those. I pocket it and save it for a private moment. I barely manage it with the festival still ongoing, the noises of dancing and happy laughter a backdrop as I stand in a quiet spot, beneath a lantern as the day fades to evening, a brilliant sunset painted across the sky in his favourite shade of orange. I drink in the sight and then scan my husband’s words, smiling and blushing at the opening salutation:

My Darling Wife:

He continues, assuring me that he has arrived safely and fortunately timed, as his friend is most in need of Peeta’s assistance and is grateful for the pair of men who chose to accompany him. I smile at his descriptions of his friend, the farm on which they now labor, and even the men of Everdeen bringing songs from home to the new fields. Other words, however, concern me.

Nights are lonely without you, my pearl. The mattress here is too soft and wide without your warmth. The empty space beside me invites terrible visions. I sleep now in a more rough manner, as I did when my life was ruled by drum beats, the rattle of sabers, and musket fire. On the floor if the nights grow cold, outside beneath the stars and moon should they be balmy. Even then, the sight of the heavens keeps you with me, knowing the same stars I stare upon as I seek refuge in sleep watch over your own nights and dreams. It seems to help for now, as though the return to the routine of sleeping thus banishes the lingering effects of that life.

I close my eyes and send my thoughts across the miles to him, hoping he might feel that I am with him, caring for him, loving him, longing for his return. His words do little to soothe my fears for him as they carry such a sadness to them. Save for the final paragraph, which I know I shall read again and again over the coming days.

I can only hope that our parting moments have not tarnished your opinion of me. I acted in such a base manner, taking advantage of the night and our parting, succumbing to the temptation to treat you so. I beg a thousand pardons from you for my roughness. I am indeed the brute you accused me of, as I must confess that as guilty as I feel for my lack of gentility in those moments, I think of them near constantly, with a powerful fever in my blood. The effect you have on me…my wife, my love, precious pearl…Katniss, I cannot even describe it save to say that every ounce of me longs to return to you, to hold you in my arms and feel your breath upon my neck, your hands…well those I would wish wherever you choose to place them. And indeed, I even long to perhaps repeat our parting moments, albeit in a more gentle manner suitable to your comfort. For now, I must work and hope that I have not destroyed what fragile foundations we have so carefully built together. Until I return to you, I remain…

Your ever loving husband,

~Peeta~

He apologizes. He apologizes for a thing I cannot regret. A thing I think of near constantly as well, also with a frightening fever in my blood that I’ve no idea how to quench without him. I do not know how to tell him that I too am filled with longing. For him. For his return.

I feel as though I hold his very soul with this parchment, much as I do when I peruse his sketches. I envy his ability to so easily express himself and curse my own reticence to reciprocate. Even writing out I love you, Peeta angers me. So hollow compared to the picture he paints with the words in his letters. I crumple the thing into a ball and toss it to the flames.

That does no good in quenching the fever taken hold of me either.

I  haven’t his gift for words and can only hope that my scrawled missives might convey my feelings back to him. They seem so paltry compared to his, my letters short scraps of news or remarks on the weather, the festival. I do not know how to convey the depth of my feelings on such thin paper. Not even the ink seems thick enough to carry the right tone, and yet he manages the feat.

The days proceed. Most days bring with them a letter from Peeta. Whenever they arrive, I savor them, drinking in his words, reading them three times or more, until I think perhaps I have an adequate response to send. Adequate but I fear not enough.

Each morning when I wake, I fight fatigue and nauseau. I request the ginger root tea and keep my theories to myself for now. I pass a day waiting for my courses that never arrive, and then another. I begin to hope in the absence – the absence of both Peeta and my monthly cycle – but heeding Madge’s counsel, I hold that knowledge close my heart until I can be certain.

In the meantime, I add his letters to my book, in place of his morning sketches. I dream of that night, and of all the others. That night for which he apologized. Apologized as though I could feel debased or shamed by what we shared. A thing that has led me to a sin most grievous, I fear. My hands now wander in the night as I dream of him and attempt to recreate his touch. He apologizes while I cling to the hope of certainty – the certainty of our happiness should I be correct in my hopes that I am with child. Some days it near destroys me, and then the post arrives.

My mother notes my tea preferences and smiles, soft and content. When my father asks her what has her so pink and lovely, she assures him that it is nothing. Simply the brightness of a fair morning and the pleasure of having two contnent daughters, a bountiful harvest.

After breakfast that day, she requests a moment of my time and embraces me.

“How late?”

“Nearly six days now,” I tell her and she kisses my temple.

“I will have Joe exercise Sagittaria for you.” I blush hotly at that. Johanna will surely know why, but I do not contradict my mother’s bidding. “In a few weeks, we will send for the doctor. Does Peeta know?”

“Not yet,” I tell her and she leans back to caress my cheek.

“Are you pleased?” I manage a nod and then bury my face in her bosom when she embraces me again. Now if only I could summon the courage to tell him how I feel. I should think it would be easier through ink and paper and yet I have had no success with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I huff angrily in the afternoon sunshine one day, tapping the end of my quill on the desk. Only four days remain in our separation and I have yet to write a satisfactory letter to him. Only the short, rather impersonal things one might send to a cousin or mere acquaintance. Worse, his grow more removed every day. It is as though he slips further away from me the longer I am unable to convey my feelings.

Madge walks by the open study door, her laughter clear and beautiful. Maysilee dances along behind her, singing a silly song, twirling and losing her balance, grasping hold of her mother’s skirts to keep from falling.

Such courage they have in acting as their true selves. Maysilee fears no judgement in her imaginings and games. She finds joy with no caution to temper it. And Madge… Even in her secrets and her scandalous affair, my friend found the courage to seize her desires. Such courage Johanna has in leaving everything familiar to her and building a life of her own, free of the shackles but also the security of her parents.

Such courage it must have taken Peeta to open his heart to me every step of our marriage.

I sit straight and gather my own courage. Perhaps I have not been as brave as I could wish, but I shall begin now. I can be brave with Peeta. He will not discard my heart carelessly. I think of all our nights in the kitchens, in front of the fire, beside the lake, and in the arms of their comforting memories, I write.

My Darling Husband,

This letter should have made its way to you a week past, and yet I struggled to find the courage to put my thoughts to words. I beseech you to sleep in peace, or have you forgotten my requirements of you? I would hate for your lack of caring for your own person to dim our pending reunion. Your apologies are unnecessary and rather insulting. I am made of stronger stuff, as you know. A brute in the night, as long as he has your gentle touch in the day, is nothing for me to fear and nothing for you to regret.

I read back over my words and blush. Fan myself as it has grown quite hot in this room. That is quite enough sentiment, I decide and charge onward with one of my more regular litanies of ongoings at home. I manage one more thing I likely should have mentioned in an earlier letter. A subtle hint that I have come to know his companion, Joe, quite well in his absence. I hear shouts in the hall and hurry to finish.

Until you return home to me, I remain

Your loving wife,

Katniss

“Katniss! Horses! In the lane!” Prim shouts, pausing in the doorway as I sign my name. She smiles at me and I stand. It is good to see this side of her again. Smiling and happy, eager to greet visitors. I am glad of it and leave my letter to finish sealing later.

“We are not expecting the Hawthornes yet, are we? Or perhaps Mr. Rory Hawthorne wishes one more chance to woo you before the season begins,” I tease and she shakes her head.

“Perhaps they shall visit in spring.”

I follow her giddy pace down the hall, as quickly as I can manage as I feel a bit ill at the moment. I rest a hand on my middle and will the feeling to abate. Through the window, I catch sight of man still mounted on a horse. His shoulders and back a familiar, broad shape, encased in a dark green coat. He removes his hat and my breath hitches at the blonde curls that gleam in the sunshine.

“Peeta,” I whisper and hasten my footsteps.

He is home! He is home early! My heart races as I grab hold of my skirts and overcome Prim, through the open doors. A chestnut prances nervously as he announces himself to the footman.

It is the wrong horse.

I halt and Prim collides with me. My smile vanishes.

“Ah! There she is! Mrs. Mellark, do tell these chaps that I am your brother now.”

“Sir Robert,” I manage to say and his strained smile smoothes out. It is then that I notice Delly on a mare at his side. I manage a curtsy to the pair of them.

“Indeed! We came ahead of the coach with our things. It should be here shortly. Surely my brother told you of our intent to visit?” he says and manages to steady his horse long enough to dismount, sweeping into a bow directed at me.

“He did not.”

“Oh,” Robert’s smile falters for a moment and then returns brighter than ever. “I did send word.”

I was almost married to this man. The thought leaps up and claims my attention, unbidden and strangely…unpleasant, and I cannot help but wonder if the last time I saw him, was he proposing to me from behind a mask of lies or was he kissing me from behind a mask of plaster and paint and more lies?

“Peeta is not here presently,” I say, the joy I felt only moments ago now cracks across my chest, in an unnameable mixture of emotions. My head spins and I feel slightly faint as I fight against the very real and evident feeling that I might disgrace myself and purge my stomach of its contents right here on the steps. “I have sent his post on to him.”

“Ah, then the news was lost in the time of transfer no doubt.” He turns to help Delly from her horse and then strides up the stairs and straight to my sister, taking her hand and once more bowing, clearly confident that he will not be turned away, despite the lack of notice. “The lovely Miss Primrose Everdeen, I presume. Indeed your sister has not exaggerated your beauty. Such lovely sisters, I feared my memory might have played tricks but lo! You are as radiant as I recall.”

The last is spoken directly to me, with eyes and teeth shining in a flattering smile. A traitorous flutter disrupts my pulse, although I manage to control it quickly. He still holds my sister’s hand. His wife only now joins us.

“Katniss?” Prim asks and I glance at her wide eyed expression.

“Sir Robert Mellark,” I manage to croak. “Peeta’s half brother.”

“Come now, we are family, Katniss! You will not allow me my fun? You must introduce me as his twin brother!”

I ignore his words and incline my head towards the door. “Primrose, please tell Sae that we have guests. Sir Robert Mellark and his wife.” She thankfully does not question, although the current of unease must be plain to her. She extricates her hand from Sir Robert’s and hurries inside.

“Yes! My wife. She claims to have met you before.”

“Indeed we have met. ‘Tis good to see you again, Delly,” I say and find that I mean it.

“We are not causing you trouble?” Delly asks with a lovely, happy smile that I remember quite well.

As much as this churning, confusing feeling inside me makes me wish to turn Sir Robert away, I know that I cannot deny Peeta’s family a visit, and I would not dream of being rude to Delly. She has done me no injury.

“No, of course not. It is only that Peeta will likely be gone another four days.”

“No matter! We will find plenty to amuse us in the meantime. I believe I caught sight of a harvest festival as we rode in?” Sir Robert says. I nod an affirmative and he offers an arm to Delly. “Excellent. I’ve not been to one in an age!”

“Then by all means, make yourselves at home,” I say, hoping that my words ring sincere, as I am not sure I can distinguish up from down as I follow the man I thought to marry and his wife into my home.

I pause in the doorway and turn back, holding one hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting through the light and the dirt. There is no other rider in the lane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…Chapter 21 will post here on the @everlarkficexchange

[junghelioseok]

change. | 05

↳ a kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship.

◇ taehyung x reader | jungkook x reader ◇ angst | fluff | smut ◇ 3.1k [5/10]

notes: it’s literally been one year (a little over?) since i posted chapter 1 of this fic and i am so fucking sorry it’s taken this long. but! things are finally happening, y’all. hope you enjoy? maybe?

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | epilogue ✓

Nineteen unread messages.

For a long moment, you can only look at your phone in disbelief, as if the words on the screen will disappear if you stare long and hard enough. But when they stubbornly remain, you heave a sigh and click open the notification, already knowing exactly who is responsible for bombarding you with so many texts last night.

[8:24pm] Jin: Fucking finally! It’s about time you left

[8:25pm] Jin: Have fun with Taehyung. But not too much.

[8:29pm] Jin: Are you there yet?

[8:36pm] Jin: Hellooooo, earth to {Name}. Are you dead? Do I have to call the police?

[8:42pm] Jin: There’s no way you’re not at Studio V by now, young lady. Don’t ignore me

[8:42pm] Jin: What’s this Taehyung kid doing to you? Don’t forget that you have a boyfriend

[9:21pm] Jin: Okay, now I’m starting to get a little worried

[9:22pm] Jin: Don’t make me come over there

And so forth. Jin’s last message, sent at precisely eleven o’clock, declares his intent to file a missing person’s report if he hasn’t heard from you in the next twenty-four hours, and you can’t help but laugh as you open up the keyboard and type out a response.

[8:12am] You: Wow Jinnie

Your phone buzzes with an incoming message almost instantaneously.

[8:12am] Jin: SHE LIVES

[8:12am] Jin: Now spill, what the hell happened to you last night?

Rolling your eyes at his insistence, you swipe open his contact tab and tap the phone icon. As the call connects, you meander into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste onto the bristles. Seokjin picks up two seconds later, squawking incomprehensibly, and as you put him on speaker and plop your phone on the counter, you marvel at how easily you can still hear him over the sound of the faucet.

“Hi Jinnie,” you greet dryly. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, good morning and all that.” Jin’s pleasant tenor filters through the speaker, undeterred. Vaguely, you can make out the sound of sizzling from his end of the line, and deduce that he must be cooking breakfast. “Now spill, damn it! What happened yesterday?”

“I went to an art gallery,“ you reply, giggling when Seokjin lets out a derisive snort. “Because unlike you, I’m a cultured lady.”

“Cultured, my ass,” Jin retorts, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Are you going to tell me about Taehyung or not?”

You laugh, tapping your phone’s screen to life in order to check the time. “I have to be at work in an hour, bud. Why don’t I tell you over dinner tonight?”

He lets out a pleased hum. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring the food and you provide the wine?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Jin says. “Seven okay?”

You nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you. “Seven’s perfect. See you then.”

“Bye, {Name}.”

Smiling, you end the call and finish brushing your teeth, already beginning to plan what you’re going to wear for the day. As you wander into the kitchen and start up the coffeemaker, you unlock your phone again to scroll through the most recent headlines, but a little red message notification catches your eye before you can open up the news app. Curiously, you tap it open, eyes widening when you see who the sender is.

[10:24pm] Taehyung: it was really nice to see you again. sorry we had to cut our conversation short but i hope you got home all right!!

A smile breaks across your face as you read his message. It was sent yesterday, shortly after you left the gallery, and you deduce that it must have quickly been buried beneath Jin’s slew of messages. Pulling a mug out of the cabinet, you spoon in some sugar while formulating a response.

[8:31am] You: It was nice to see you too! I got home just fine, thanks for the cab. I’m getting my own next time though :)

You stare down at the screen for a few more moments after pressing ‘send’, a fond smile lingering on your face. But then the smell of coffee is assailing your nostrils, the last dregs dripping down into the pot, and you tear your gaze away from your phone in order to pour yourself a generous helping.

/// 

Your inbox, when you arrive at work and log into your computer, is nearly bursting with new emails. Immersing yourself into your work, you don’t get another opportunity to check your phone until lunchtime, but as soon as the clock on your monitor reads noon you are leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms overhead with a sigh. Working the kinks out of your neck, you idly tap your phone’s screen to life and are immediately greeted by the sight of two new messages. A smile creases your face as soon as you see the senders’ names, and your smile only grows as you read the first text.

[9:12am] Taehyung: not if i can help it :) and you’re welcome. glad you made it safely

The second text, however, wipes any happiness away and replaces it with concern.

[11:28am] Jungkook: God, I’m having the worst day

Immediately, you type out a response to Jungkook. You’re certain he won’t see it until much later—he’s always been terrible with responding to messages, even when not inundated with work—but the fact that he’d taken the time to text you still warms your heart.

[12:07pm] You: Sorry babe. Don’t forget to take a break and eat lunch, okay?

You remember to send off another quick thanks to Taehyung before replacing your phone in your pocket and pulling out your own lunch. Meandering your way towards the kitchen, you greet a few colleagues before heading inside to plop your food in the microwave. As the timer runs down from one minute, you pull out your phone again and see—much to your shock—a new message waiting there.

[12:14pm] Jungkook: I won’t. Eating now, actually. But my kimchi fried rice isn’t as good as yours

A laugh escapes you as the microwave dings. Opening the door, you pull out your own container of kimchi fried rice, still chuckling at the coincidence.

[12:16pm] You: oh yeah? Guess what I’m eating then

[12:17pm] Jungkook: You’re joking. Kimchi fried rice? Really?

[12:17pm] You: I cannot tell a lie

Taking a seat at one of the several tables scattered around the kitchen, you begin eating leisurely, keeping one eye on the news broadcast playing on the television mounted to the wall. It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to respond this time, and you wonder if work is giving him trouble again.

You’re proven right when his text finally comes, popping up onto your screen with a soft ding.

[12:21pm] Jungkook: Fuck, how are people so incompetent? I have to go, sorry

Biting your lip, you type out a quick goodbye.

[12:21pm] You: Don’t bite too many heads off. Love you.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. With a soft sigh, you set your phone back down on the table and fix your attention on the television once more, idly watching the headlines scroll along the bottom of the screen as you finish your lunch.

///

You don’t hear from Jungkook again for the remainder of the workday. The sun is already setting by the time you leave your office building, and with an added stop at the wine store, your commute home takes fifteen minutes longer than usual. You change into sweatpants and an oversized sweater the minute you walk inside, and half an hour after you crack open the first bottle of wine, Jin is knocking at your door with a gaudily decorated white plastic bag in hand. “I see you started drinking without me,” he says dryly as he steps inside, hanging up his jacket and immediately making a beeline for the cabinet where you keep your wineglasses.

“Guess you’d better catch up then,” you reply with a grin, taking the bag from his hand and peering inside curiously. “Chinese?”

He hums. “Of course.”

“Perfect.”

Together, you and Jin make your way into the living room. Your best friend makes himself comfortable on your couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and you playfully nudge him off as you try to find a place to put down your food. He shoots you a mock glare and takes an enormous sip of wine, watching as you take a seat beside him and dig into a box of kung pao chicken. “So?”

“So what?” you ask innocently, selecting a piece of pepper and popping it into your mouth.

Jin slaps the armrest in indignation. “What do you mean, so what? Don’t test me, missy!”

You giggle as the tips of his ears begin to flush pink. “Okay, okay,” you relent. “Taehyung. Let’s see. Taehyung was… well, he was just as charming as I remembered. We wound up talking for almost three hours yesterday, so I’m sorry I didn’t text you.”

Jin sniffs, but you can see the smile twitching at the corners of his plush lips. “Whoa, three hours? Damn. You can’t even talk to me for that long.”

“That’s because you’re insufferable,” you retort instantly, drawing a chuckle from you companion.

“Duly noted,” he says. “So, what did you talk about, anyway? Your whole life story?”

“All my deepest, darkest secrets,” you say, trying and failing to maintain a solemn expression. “No, but really, we just talked about the usual. Friends, family, pets. That sort of thing. He’s got a puppy named Yeontan—a Pomeranian. Super cute.”

Jin tilts his head curiously. “A Pomeranian? Those are yappy little dogs, aren’t they?

You shrug. “Taehyung said that Tannie doesn’t really bark all that much, actually.”

“Mm.” Jin lets out a thoughtful hum, tilting his head back and taking a long sip of wine. His gaze slides back over to you after he sets down his glass again, his brown eyes glimmering with mischief as he waggles his brows suggestively. “So, what else happened? Did you get his number like you wanted?”

Wordlessly, you click open your phone and scroll to Taehyung’s contact information, stored safely away under his name. “He gave me his business card too,” you say, showing Jin the screen. “And he called us friends when he introduced me to Yoongi, so that was nice.”

His brows furrow. “Who’s Yoongi?”

“One of his college friends,” you explain. “He was at the gallery opening too.”

“Ah.”

There’s another question on the tip of his tongue—you can see it forming in his eyes as he licks his lips in preparation to voice it, but a knock on your front door interrupts him before he can even open his mouth. Jin jolts at the unexpected noise, his eyes widening in bewilderment, and you offer him an equally confused shrug as you rise to your feet and pad over to answer it.

To your utmost surprise, Jungkook is standing on your welcome mat when you swing the door open, bundled in a dark wool coat and a black scarf. “Hey,” he says, raising his gaze from his phone to give you a wan smile. “Just saw your message. I didn’t bite any heads off, I promise.”

Laughing softly, you step aside to let him in. “That’s good to hear.”

Jungkook echoes your amusement as he crosses the threshold, tucking his phone back into his pocket and beginning to shrug off his coat. As he unwraps his scarf and moves to hang it on one of the hooks near the door, his gaze skitters down to the men’s shoes sitting on the ground beside your own, one dark brow disappearing up behind his neatly-parted hair as he stares at them. “Is Jin here?”

You nod, and Jin must have heard his name because a moment later his head pops around the corner of the entryway. “Hey, Jungkook,” the older man greets, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I thought I heard your voice. Good to see you.”

“You too,” Jungkook replies, gripping the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake. “What are you two up to tonight?”

“Wine and Chinese food,” you say, reaching out to smooth down the rumpled lapel of Jungkook’s charcoal suit jacket. There’s no doubt that he just left the office, and your heart flip-flops in your chest when you notice the exhaustion lining his handsome face. “Do you want some?"

“I’m all right,” Jungkook says, and maybe it’s your imagination but you swear you detect a hint of annoyance in his tone. Shrugging it off, you instead grab his hand to pull him into the living room where the takeout boxes are still scattered across the coffee table, interspersed between two half-full wine glasses. Jungkook takes in the sight slowly, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around yours, and when he speaks again you are certain you hadn’t imagined the annoyance in his voice. “Looks like you two were having fun,” Jungkook says slowly, releasing your hand in favor of picking up one of the white containers of food and peering inside. Then he looks toward Jin, who is still hovering near the entryway uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your night. Guess I should’ve called beforehand to see if you already had company.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jin reassures, and you wonder if he can sense the sudden tension in the air as clearly as you can. When he begins inching toward the coatrack, you decide that he can. “I should probably get going, anyway.”

Jungkook places the takeout box back on the coffee table. “Have other plans?”

Jin shrugs, and you marvel at his ability to feign ease despite the tense atmosphere. “I’ve got some work to do. Duty calls, you know? Besides, I’m sure you want to spend some quality time with {Name} without me hanging around.”

His laugh sounds entirely too brittle, and when Jungkook glances away, Jin meets your gaze and forcefully mouths text me later.

You nod. Jin hesitates a moment longer, as if unwilling to leave, but another look at Jungkook’s furrowed brow has him grabbing his jacket off the rack and sliding his arms into the sleeves. “Well, I’m off then. Have a good night, guys.”

“You too,” Jungkook intones coolly.

“Bye, Jin,” you call after your best friend’s retreating figure, waving farewell as he disappears around the corner. You listen as his footsteps recede down the corridor, and it’s only once the front door opens and clicks shut again that Jungkook speaks, his voice soft.

“I see you were having a good night without me.”

He’s upset. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched, his throat bobbing harshly as he resists the urge to raise his voice. You’ve seen him yell before—he gets worked up during conference calls far too often for his own good—but you’ve rarely been on the receiving end of his anger. Something must really be bothering him, and you tentatively reach out and lay a hand on his arm. “Jungkook,” you breathe. “I would’ve invited you over—“

“But you didn’t,” he interrupts bitterly, wrenching away from your touch and leaving your hand to fall aimlessly to your side. “You invited him.”

“I made plans with Jin this morning,” you try to explain. “You’re always welcome to join us, of course, but you seemed busy earlier and I didn’t know when you would be done with work, so it didn’t occur to me to ask.“

Jungkook scowls, his dark brows furrowing even further. “So Seokjin was the first person you talked to today?”

“What?” you ask in disbelief. “I… I mean, I guess so? But that’s not out of the ordinary; he’s my best friend. You know that.”

The words don’t seem to reassure him in the least. Jungkook’s expression remains pinched, and when you look into his eyes you’re alarmed to see the anger simmering there. “How am I supposed to know that for sure?” he snaps.

Your jaw drops. “What?” you ask, utterly dumbfounded by his jealousy. “Are you seriously doubting if we’re just friends?”

He cocks a brow. “Are you? Or is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Jungkook,” you begin, your mind reeling wildly as you try to process what you’re hearing. “What are you even talking about? Of course we’re just friends… he has a boyfriend, for god’s sake—“

The dark-haired man barks out a humorless laugh. “One I’ve never met.”

“Namjoon’s really busy!” you defend. “And it’s not like you have a lot of free time to socialize with my friends either—“

“So this is my fault?” Jungkook interrupts, his other eyebrow rising up to join the first.

You let out an exasperated huff. “That’s not what I said. All I know is that Jin has made an effort to invite us out for happy hour on multiple occasions, and you haven’t been able to make a single one.”

Jungkook snorts. “Like you so kindly pointed out, I’m busy. But you’re more than happy to go skipping off to join them for drinks, huh? You mentioned that they’re both bi once—how am I supposed to know that nothing’s ever happened?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes beginning to prickle at the corners, but you swallow the tears back down and look up your dark-haired boyfriend. “Don’t you trust me?”

His gaze drops to the carpeted floor before rising up to meet yours. “I don’t know anymore,” he says after a few seconds. And then: “But I do know that I need to leave right now.”

“Jungkook…” you begin, voice wavering as you try and fail to find your next words.

He gives you a long, hard look, his expression unreadable. Then he’s turning on his heel, his suit jacket flapping as he strides silently down the hall. You hear the rustle of cloth as he grabs his coat off the hook, and wince when the door slams shut behind him.

A full minute ticks by—each second passing at an agonizingly slow pace as you hope against all hope that Jungkook will come to his senses and return with an apology on his lips. But the night steadily darkens outside, and you remain alone in your living room with cold takeout and unfinished wine. Slowly, you make your way over to the front door and twist the lock shut.

And only then do you allow your pent-up tears to overflow, streaming down your cheeks as you crumple to the ground.

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Submission guidelines (post)

**Note that our guidelines may change as we get a better feel for who follows our blog and what they want to write about**

Contents:

Before you click “Submit”

What can people submit?

Topics that we will NOT post to the blog

How do I submit something?

How can I have my submission posted anonymously?

A couple more notes on submissions: our weekly prompts, submitting your own writing prompts, submitting visual works, and community intros

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Before you click “Submit”

Since it doesn’t show up when you submit something on mobile, here is what’s written on our “Submit something!” page:

“Please check out our “Submission guidelines” page before submitting something to us! Then, before you click “Submit,” please do the following: 1. Make sure to include any of the following content warnings that are relevant: body-hatred, eating disorder implication (anything beyond a mention), and gore. Write them in the first line (under the title, before the body of your submission) so that our mods are aware of the warnings before they start reading. 2. SAVE A COPY OF YOUR WORK!!! Tumblr has a nasty habit of eating submissions, and we don’t want it to accidentally delete the only copy of your writing before we can post it! Submitted content that is posted to our blog will be directly credited to the URL you submit from, unless otherwise specified. Thank you! We look forward to reading your work!”

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What can people submit?

One of our main goals here is to help inspire and share writing about and for aspec people, so we ask that authors stick to that demographic as much as possible. And since there’s not a ton of writing out there about aspec people and experiences, there’s so much for all of us to explore! Poems and song lyrics! Short stories and multi-part series! Character ideas and story concepts! Fanfiction and original ideas! Comics! Movie scripts! Whatever you want to create!! Want to write about an aromantic adventurer in a fantasy world? A budding queerplatonic relationship between college students? A demisexual scientist inventing time travel? Do it!!! We’re SO excited to read your works, and we’re sure there will be plenty of others here who are, too! Don’t want to write an entire story? That’s cool, too! You can submit writing prompts; book, fic, song, show, or movie recommendations; writing tips; aspec positivity and support—as long as it’s relevant to the blog and follows our policies, it’s fair game!

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Topics that we will NOT post to the blog

Content warning: there are mentions of many triggering topics in this section.

We definitely want to allow y’all lots of freedom for exploration in your submissions, but also—first and foremost—we want Aspec Stories to be a safe and supportive place for aspec people of all ages, identities, and experiences. To help promote that positive environment, we (the mods) have decided to make all of the following topics off-limits in submissions and on the blog in general:

Animal cruelty

Child abuse

Discrimination or hate towards any members of the LGBTQIA+ community

Explicit* childbirth

Explicit* corrective rape (or explicit rape of any kind)

Explicit* disordered eating

Explicit* experience of conversion therapy

Explicit* gun violence

Explicit* self-harm

Explicit* sexual activity (specifically NSFW content, e.g. no porn, smut, or lemons)

Explicit* sexual assault

Explicit* suicide

Explicit* use of hard drugs and/or illicit substances (with the exception of marijuana and alcohol, though we may choose not to allow them if we feel that your representation of their use is inappropriate for this blog. We will contact you directly if that is the case.)

Explicit* verbal or physical abuse

Extreme body horror (i.e. we define body horror as “altering a character’s body in grotesque or seemingly painful ways.” This does NOT include disabled bodies, burn victims, amputees, or people with scars. It is meant for situations that are out of the ordinary.  Please use your discretion—we’ll contact you directly if we feel that you have included body horror that is too disturbing to publish on this blog.)

Hardcore gore (i.e. gore may be included in submissions, but please use your discretion—we’ll contact you directly if we feel that you have included too much or that it is too disturbing to publish on this blog.)

Inappropriate treatment of minors in general (i.e. please use your discretion when writing about characters who are minors, including characters who are canonically minors who you have aged-up for the sake of your story. We’ll contact you directly if we think that your treatment of underage characters is problematic in any way.)

Incest

Hateful slurs

Pedophilia

Racial slurs, specifically

Unaddressed discrimination of any kind (i.e. while discrimination may be included as part of a character’s experience, it should not go unaddressed within the story. We will contact you directly if we feel that any discrimination represented in your submission is poorly addressed or otherwise inappropriate for this blog.)

Unnecessary violence (i.e. violence that seems unnecessarily cruel or seems as though it serves no purpose to the story being told)

We doubt that most of these topics are things y’all would want to write about, anyways, but we want to share this list to let you know that we’re watching out for you! If you think that anything else should be added to this list of off-limits topics, please message us or send us an ask!

If your submission includes any of the above topics, we will NOT post it to the blog. We’ll contact you at the URL that you submitted from to let you know that we’ve decided not to publish your work. Depending on the situation, if you are willing to edit out the off-limits content we may consider reviewing your submission again for posting.

If you feel that a submission that we have already posted on the blog violates our policy of off-limits topics, please send us a direct message and we’ll address it as soon as we possibly can.

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*To clarify on the starred topics: When we say “explicit” we mean “writing (or art) that shows said topic happening within the submission.” Topics such as abuse, self-harm, etc. may exist within your writing, but only indirectly or in mention. For example: we will not allow an explicitly shown or described (NSFW) sex scene, but if characters are talking about their relationships with sex without getting into NSFW detail that’s totally fine (we’ll just tag it as a content warning). Please contact us if you have any questions about this!

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How do I submit something?

If you have something you’d like to have posted on Aspec Stories, read through this list to find out how to best share it with us:

Is it a poem, short story, longer written work, visual art, character blurb, or something of that nature? Send it to us via our “Submit something!” page, please!

Is it a writing prompt, writing tip, some form of media recommendation, message of positivity, or something similar? Also send these to us via the “Submit something!” page!

Do you have a question or comment for us about the blog or one of our posts? Send it to us via the “Ask something!” page, or send us a direct message! We’ll be happy to hear from you!

Want to introduce yourself to the blog’s community? Visit the “A couple more notes on submissions” section of this page!

When in doubt, send it to us as a submission via our “Submit something!” page! Most of the things we post will be user-submitted, and sending us content via our “Submit something!” page is the best way for us to give you credit for your work.

Other than that, please make sure you’re following our policies for topics that we do and do not allow on the blog. Then just follow the final requests that we’ve included on the “Submit something!” page, and click the submit button! We’re excited to see what you send us!

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How can I have my submission posted anonymously?

Step one: please don’t submit writing to us via anonymous asks!! Please!! That could get very confusing for us mods, especially if your work is long and you send it to us as multiple anonymous asks. We might actually cry if that happens. Especially if tumblr eats part of your work. Or you send us 20 asks and we’re not sure what order they’re meant to go in. Please… please don’t make us cry.

Instead, just include this note in one of the first lines of your submission (under the title but before the body of your work): “post as anon”. Easy! When we see that note, we’ll copy and paste the contents of your submission into a brand new post, then tag it as “author: anon”. We (the mods) will still see the URL you submit from in our inbox, but when we post your submission to the blog it will be completely anonymous. And please don’t feel weird about us knowing your URL! We won’t share it with anyone and we won’t contact you unless we need to (like if your submission includes an off-limits topic). And honestly, we probably won’t remember it after 5 minutes. No worries—we promise!

If you’d like us to post your submission anonymously but use a pseudonym instead of “anon”, write the note like this: “post as anon, author: [pseudonym]” (for example: “post as anon, author: Doodleoo McGee”). We’ll do all the same things to post it anonymously, but just use the “author: [pseudonym]” tag in place of our default “author: anon” tag (which will make it easier for you to find later).

**Note that if you use a pseudonym that another person has already claimed, we’ll contact you to ask for a new one. If we don’t hear back from you in a few days, we’ll just add some numbers to the end of your original pseudonym and call it good.

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A couple more notes on submissions

There are a few things about specific types of submissions that we want to clarify!

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Our weekly prompts

Each week (on Aspec Saturday), we’ll post a new prompt that’s meant to help people come up with ideas for submissions. Your submissions don’t HAVE to be related to these prompts—they’re just for extra inspiration! But, to help keep things organized, we’ll be tagging all submissions that we think are in response to the weekly prompts with an extra tag: “weekly prompt # (Month Year)”. All other submissions (unrelated to the weekly writing prompts) will be tagged as “general submission”. Please visit the “Our tags” page for more info about our tagging system!

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Submitting your own writing prompts

You are more than welcome to submit writing prompts for us to share! Usually we’ll just post these as regular submissions with the tag “general submission”. If anyone submits something in response to your prompt, it will also be tagged as a “general submission” (otherwise it would get really tricky to keep track of everything).

If we think that your prompt would be a cool one to use as one of our weekly writing prompts, we’ll contact you and ask if we can save your prompt for an upcoming week. If you’d rather we just post it as a regular submission we will, but if you’re ok with us using the prompt, we’ll post it on one of our Aspec Saturdays! All credit for the writing prompt will go to you as you’ve specified!

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Submitting visual works

This blog will mostly be for sharing writing, but if you’re inspired to create some aspec art, please send it our way! Keep in mind that all the submission and community guidelines apply to visual art submissions just as they do to written ones.

Since we’re working to make this an accessible blog, all the images we post will include written image descriptions. We’re prepared to write these descriptions ourselves, but we would be very appreciative if you took the time to describe your own art! If you’ve never described an image before, it’s easy to get the hang of and very very helpful for people who are blind or visually impaired. And especially if you regularly post artwork online, this would be a good skill to learn!

Here are some resources to help you get started with writing image descriptions, from another accessible tumblr blog: [link]

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Community intros

We’re hoping to gather a community of aspec writers, readers, and artists together with this blog. If you’d like to introduce yourself to the other members of the community—at any time—just send us an ask with a little bit about yourself that you’d like us to share!

If it’s NOT an anon ask, we’ll tag it with “author: [your URL]” and “community intro!”

If it IS an anon ask, we’ll tag it with “author: anon” and “community intro!”

We look forward to meeting you!!

[leta-the-strange]

yay! newt/leta first kiss? preferably hogwarts era.

Oh, cute! Thanks for this one. I know its a bit long but I always get carried away :(  I still have two in my inbox to get through but feel free to send me more Leta prompts/hcs/ships. 

“I can’t believe Professor Dumbledore is letting us dothis!” Newt exclaimed with excitement, getting his head stuck in his shirt inhis hasty attempt to pull it off without undoing all the buttons.

Leta chuckled and helped pull it over his head. Shehad moments ago shrugged out of her own uniform that she had worn over the topof her emerald green school issued swimsuit and was wrapped up in her navy robe whilethey waited for the rest of the class to make their way down to the Great Lake.

She threw his clothes over the branch her own shirt, tie,vest and tartan skirt were hanging from. “I’m not awfully surprised,” she digressed.“Dumbledore has always possessed the inane ability to get his students to dohis bidding by framing it as a fun exercise.”

“Well, even so…” Newt said, aware of the distrust thatradiated from his best friend toward his favourite teacher. “…at least we’re notstuck in the classroom all day.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she mumbled unconvincingly andher shaky hand starting fiddling with the clasp of her robe. 

Newt wanted tokick himself.

He had been so eager at the prospect of looking for Grindylows thathe had not thought how terrified Leta must feel about having to go so deep inthe water. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t made progress through the years. The firsttime he noticed her, at the young age of eleven, she had been surrounded by somesnickering students and an out of his depth groundskeeper, huddled on the groundwith her hands over her ears, sobbing and shaking and absolutely hysterical atthe idea of having to get into one of the boats that traditionally carried thefirst years across the lake to the castle. For a while, she would sit under thetrees if he decided to walk or swim in the lake, slowly getting closer to theedge each time until, one year, the giant squid he had been petting tenderlywrapped one of its tentacles around her ankle and dragged her in too. He had hastilypulled her up and was surprised to find her laughing joyfully and since thenshe would join him, provided he held her hand or she gripped on to his arm. Sofar, the deepest she’d managed was up to her waist which wouldn’t be any helpto her in today’s exercise.

He noticed her other hand was clasped tightly in afist and he quickly took it in his own before her fingernails could cut anydeeper into her palm again. He made a mental note to swipe some dittany fromProfessor Prendergast’s stores later that night.

“I’ve got a plan!” he announced staring back out overthe lake.

“How many detentions can we expect from this plan?”she quipped, holding her wand between her lips while she pinned her hair out of her face. “Obviously, I’m in but I need to shift my timetable around if we’readding more punishments into the week on top of the regular ones.”

“A plan for Dumbledore’s challenge today,” hecontinued. “I’m going to have jellylegs after swimming and catching the littlebugger so if you wait by the waters edge, you can run him to Dumbledore.”

Leta doe-eyes looked both in awe and full of sorrow asshe stared up at him and she squeezed his hand appreciatively. She cleared herthroat and quickly snapped back to her playful self.

“Well, at least I’ll see you coming!” she jested athis Hufflepuff yellow swimsuit.

Their laughter was interrupted by the raucous noise oftheir Defense Against the Dark Arts class whooping and yelling as they tumbleddown toward the lake with Professor Dumbledore strolling along behind them.

Newt angled himself between Leta and a group of Gryffindorsthat had set their sights on her from the moment they had seen her panic attackin first year as well. He felt Leta’s hand go slack, but he kept ittightly clasped within his. For a long time, he assumed her always sidling awayfrom him around people was because someone like her would be embarrassed to beseen with the likes of him but eventually, and far more horrifyingly,discovered it was because she felt far too poisonous to inflict herself on him especiallyin front of other students who may turn their attention to him as well. And ofcourse, he wouldn’t let that stand.

Leta used her free hand to wrap her robe more tightlyaround her as they smirked and leered at her like a dugbog hungrily seeking outa mandrake.

“Good afternoon,” Professor Dumbledore said cheerily,planting himself in the middle of the hostility. “As most of you have rememberedkeenly it seems, I’m in need of a Grindylow for my third-year class and thoughtit may be a great opportunity for you guys to dabble in some field work. As Isaid at the end of our last lesson, the first pair to stun and retrieve a Grindylowwill get a little prize. I have been able to procure some Gillyweed for thetask.”

There was a scuffle as the teenagers tried to pair upand Dumbledore peered around knowing that the class was an odd number, but hiseyes fell on Newt and Leta who had made no movement at all as the classshuffled around.

“Ah, Miss Lestrange, Mr Scamander,” he smiled at them.“Maybe we should give the other students a fighting chance this time and splityou both up. Just for fun.”

Just for fun?! Newt thought in horror andheld on to her tighter.

“Everett!” Dumbledore clapped and saw that theextremely competitive Hufflepuff Beater had been the left-over student which hewasn’t even offended by since he was very self-aware of his win or die trying attitude.

Newt sighed in relief knowing that Everett, unlike manyof his fellow House members, had no problem with Leta. He occasionally talkedto her when Leta came to watch Newt practice with the Quidditch team and evensourced a spare Hufflepuff scarf for her to wear during games. Everett would haveno problem leaving Leta up here if it bettered his chances of winning.

“We’ll show some House solidarity and spirit today. Newtand Everett, you can join up and Leta, if you’d like to tack on the end of a Slytherinpair.”

The Slytherins in their class were not as outwardlycruel to Leta as some students from other House were but instead showed theirdisdain, and slight fear, of her through avoiding or ignoring her entirely as if she were something particularly unpleasant.  

“I’ll go by myself if it’s all the same, Professor,”Leta said blankly and Newt turned to stare at her disbelievingly, but she smiledreassuringly at him.

“That would be fine, if that is what you’d prefer,”Dumbledore granted cheerfully and went about recapping all they had learnedabout Grindylows in their previous lessons and handing out portions of theslimy looked plant.  

Newt used the opportunity to turn to Leta with panicin his eyes. “You-you can’t go by yourself!”

“I won’t be,” she countered. “You’ll be down theretoo.”  

He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest when shesaid that so trustingly, but it did little to ease his own worries.

“Only if you’re sure, you can stick with Everett and I,but if you start to feel-”

“Uh,” she frowned but her smile was playful as she bitinto the Gillyweed. “So, you can both steal my glory when I catch the Grindylow? No way, Scamander.”

Newt scoffed and took a section for himself. “You’rehardly serious, right now.”

“We’ll see, I suppose,” she sighed and took off herrobe. “But remember, you’ve already divulged all your weakness to the enemy,Jellylegs, with no idea of my capabilities.”  

“That’s true, you do have the upper hand in someareas. You could always annoy the Grindylow until it lets up and just goes withyou,” Newt teased as he felt the gills start to spread across his neck.

Everett clapped approvingly as he jogged over to them,luckily for Newt, who had only just caught himself before he could tell Leta shelooked very pretty as her own gills blossomed across her neck and cheeks thoughshe had fortunately been examining the webbing between her fingers to notice him staring. 

“Yes! Finally, the Slytherin vs Hufflepuff showdown we’veall been waiting for,” he pitched as he dragged Newt away to the starting area.“The day has finally come where we find out who the superior budding magizoologistis.”

For all the tactics Everett had attempted to drillinto a preoccupied and inattentive Newt, the spirited and muscular Beater was swiftlyleft behind as he was easily the slowest swimmer of the lot. Newt naturallylooked around for Leta, but the sunlight only cast an eerily glow no further thana few feet in front of him even with the help of the Gillyweed.

He couldn’t see the particularly vicious group of Gryffindorseither which made his heart start to race but before he could panic, he decidedhe had a far better chance tracking a Grindylow and getting this whole ordealover with before anything bad could happen.

It didn’t take long at all for him to find the one hehad been tracking, tangled among roots and stems looking characteristicallydisgruntled. Newt apologetically cast a stunning spell at the creature but wincedwhen the poor thing was hit in the back at the same time by the same red jet oflight that Newt had cast at it. Newt glanced around to see who had cast the samespell and he was drawn to the blurry image of Leta who had been tracking thecreature from the opposite direction. It took her a little longer to noticewhere the other stunning spell had come from but her eyes widened when theyfell on Newt and he was about to motion if she was okay when she started swimmingquickly toward the stunned Grindylow.

He grinned and started kicking as fast he could aswell. Unfortunately for Leta, Newt was a good head taller than her and was ableto stretch out twice as far despite her head start. He reached out and Leta’s hand,a fraction of a second too late, came down on top of his as he grabbed theGrindylow. He beamed across at her with a triumphant smirk that saw her eyesnarrow and her nose crinkle up in a scowl that would look no more threateningon a baby mooncalf. With the hand covering his on the Grindylow, she threaded theirfingers together as best as she could manage with the webbing and yanked himforward with such force, he thought she was trying to headbutt him when shegently pressed her lips to his.

If he could muster a coherent thought he would wonderif he had been hit with a stunning spell, or perhaps the Gillyweed was wearingoff, either way he was completely frozen and it felt like all the air had disappearedfrom his body and even if he had not been floating in the lake, it still would’vefelt like he had been un-anchored from the earth. The situation finally washed through him and he felt so foolish for wasting what was, in reality, likelyonly a second or two frozen like the Grindylow between them.

Newt lifted his hand to weave through her floatinghair, or brush against her jaw, he hadn’t quite decided yet, and he leanedcloser to press into her kiss, clumsily squishing their noses together, but he felther smile against his lips before he got the chance to return her ministrationsand ended up kissing her teeth. A stream of bubbles escaped her mouth when shelaughed victoriously as she tugged the Grindylow from below his slackened hand,which he had sought to appoint to the far more important task of holding her faceinstead and kicked her way to the top of the lake leaving him floating dumbfoundedby himself.

“What happened?!” Everett rounded on Newt as theywalked back to the castle. “You were ahead! Then you were just floating about!” 

“Lestrange probably used Stupefy on him,” one of the Hufflepuffs muttered behindthem and a few nodded in agreement much to his annoyance but Everett let out asnort before Newt could turn around.

“Stupefy,” Everett scoffed. “Yeah, stunned bysomething alright but not by Lestrange’s wand.As if she would harm a single hair on his head…A sad day for Hufflepuff today,one of our own thwarted by the likes of pretty, Slytherin girl.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty, Polkinghorne?” Leta exclaimedteasingly as she caught up with them. She had put her robe back on, but she wasstill dripping wet and Newt muttered a drying spell that made her hair twice asbig once he was finished.

“No,” Everett said curtly. “I think Scamander thinksyou’re pretty, but don’t let that get to your head either, Lestrange, he calleda Flobberworm ‘pretty girl’ the other day in Herbology.”

The other Hufflepuffs departed, shaking their head atNewt as they passed.

“Well, we certainly have something to discuss…”

Leta wentstraight into defence.

“What?! I’m sorry! It’s not fair that you’re alreadythe size of a Quidditch goalpost! That has no bearing at whether I’m better atzoology and tracking than you.”

“Mmm, but you using your…” he awkwardly gestured toher entire being. “…is?”

“Yes, actually. If you’re so easily distracted thanyou’re going to get gobbled up by a Kelpie or barbequed by a Hungarian Horntail.If anything, you should be thanking me. I don’t know why you’re so scandalisedactually, I am a Slytherin, you know. Resourcefulness.And it was a risk on my behalf, too, you know. Do you know Wesley Cavanaugh wasright behind you?”

The image of Leta, suspended under the lake in dappledsunlight with her hair floating like a siren around her while pressing sweet, tentativekisses to Wesley Cavanaugh’s lips nearly unglued him but he shook the thoughtaway and put his hands on her shoulders.

“If you would slow down, what I wanted to discuss was…you were under the lake!”

She looked as though she might ascend as Newt staredat her in awe and pride.

“I know,” she exhaled, in shock herself. “I’m postponingthe panic attack I’ve been on the verge of the past half an hour until I replenishmy blood sugar and then it’s just going to be tears and screaming for about anhour and then I’ll be good.”

“Okay,” Newt chuckled and led her down the corridor. “Well,then lets find some cauldron cakes and then go down to the Quidditch pitch andscream for a while.”

[common-mushroom]

Hey Bud! I really want Someone to through a bachelor party for Harvey. I'm not sure who would do it. Perhaps it's Shane in an attempt to thank the good doctor for sending him to the fabulous therapist? Idk lol. I just need me some stardew hooligans, frantic, and then possibly tipsy Harvey, and all the mayhem that ensues.

Hello! Sorry I haven’t responded to this sooner, it appears my inbox is malfunctioning and hasn’t been telling me that I have new messages :/// Here ya go~~

--

Harvey was way in over his head. Perhaps that was an understatement--he severely regretted telling the farmer, “Our wedding will be in three days”. To his utter surprise, it was the farmer who proposed to HIM. That crucial moment of shock left Harvey’s tongue bone dry, and all he could think to do was spit out the word “yes” and make a promise that he immediately knew he couldn’t keep.

But he had to keep it. 

In fruitless attempts to calm his raging nerves, Harvey had been frequenting the saloon. Shane took notice, quietly sipping his beer in the corner by the fireplace. Gus handed him a plate of hot pepper poppers and nodded in Harvey’s direction.

“A good time to pay him back, right?” 

Gus knew about Shane’s visits to the Zuzu City therapist. Everyone knew, actually. Surprisingly, the common knowledge didn’t upset Shane--it made him strangely relieved, knowing that everyone knew the truth and still treated him the same. It gave him some faith in humanity--which wasn’t saying much, but still. 

It was all thanks to Harvey that Shane had any sanity left at all, which was why he had already begun making plans for the bachelor party.

He begrudgingly approached the table, where countless paperwork was scattered. Harvey’s face was burrowed into a strong-looking cocktail. He looked up at Shane, eyes bloodshot with fatigue.

“What can I do for you, Shane?”

“Hey, Doctor.” Shane placed down his plate and slid onto the bar stool across from him. A moment of hesitation. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, you know. About as well as any man who’s got a wedding in 2 and a half days and has to plan all of it from scratch.” He sighed. Shane stared into his beer awkwardly. How does one be genuinely nice about something like this? Dr. Adler’s voice echoed in the back of his head...

“You’re efficient, Harvey. You’ll get it done. Stress is your forte.” Shane sipped his beer nonchalantly. Harvey grinned widely. Shane resisted the urge to scowl at Harvey’s happiness. It’s a coping mechanism. Just a coping mechanism.

“Well, thanks a lot, Shane. I appreciate that.” Harvey bent over a piece of paper, a form of some kind, and scrawled frantically.

“I have a...surprise for you,” Shane swallowed his pride, metaphorically and literally. “I’ve been working with Emily and Gus to plan a bachelor party for you.” Harvey’s eyes bulged in surprise.

“Oh, you really didn’t need to do that.”

“I know,” Shane sighed impatiently. “But it’s traditional, and you deserve it. You’ve been a great doctor to everyone in town.” Shane began to scarf down his poppers, if only to avoid eye contact. Harvey was silent for quite some time. Shane looked up, realizing he was watching him skeptically. “We’re not getting a stripper or anything. Just some of the guys, some drinks and greasy food. Gus has the saloon reserved for us. No ladies allowed...except for the bartender, of course.” Shane rolled his eyes in Emily’s direction. 

Harvey’s heart soared. If the local angry man was willing to throw him a party, then perhaps he was welcomed and needed, after all. He beamed.

“Well, gosh, I appreciate that so much! Really, this is too much,” Harvey sipped his drink excitedly. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow, if that’s okay. We wanted to leave you a threshold day before the big day in case you...partied...too hard.” Shane stifled a laugh, smirking. He couldn’t honestly imagine Harvey in his college days.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Harvey smiled. “I am really looking forward to it.”

A bachelor party. This was it--this was going to happen. He was going to have a bachelor party, and he was going to get married.

~

The party started at noon, but Harvey didn’t want to look too eager, so he arrived fashionably late, at 12:02.

As if anticipating this move, all of the other men in town were already waiting for him at the saloon. Upon his entrance, everyone cheered.

“There’s the big stud!” Alex whooped. Harvey blushed.

“That’s what they call me.” He smiled sheepishly. Immediately, Emily rushed over with a tray of drinks.

“Take your pick. Everything’s on the house tonight.” 

“Thanks.” Harvey smiled and chose a daiquiri--why the hell not? 

In the corner, meanwhile, Gus dejectedly slipped Shane a $20 bill.

“Told you.” Shane gloated.

Harvey was showered with attention from anyone and everyone--and although it wasn’t normally his scene, he enjoyed the spotlight. There was a seemingly endless flow of hors d’oeuvres and drinks, and after some time, they all seemed to blend together for Harvey.

He’d engaged in a casual game of poker when, suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over him.

“Oh, no.” He gulped and rushed to the bathroom. Coming back, he seemed to feel worse, somehow. Although the sickness was emptied from his system, he felt a new sense of dread: drunkenness.

He’d hardly drank to the point of flushed skin past his college graduation, save for the infamous interaction a few weeks earlier with Pam and Shane. Indeed, he was fearful of what would ensue. How he could possibly incriminate himself, he did not know. That did not stop the fear. Shane leaned over to whisper in Harvey’s ear.

“You’re not going to feel this way in the morning, but it’s actually a good thing not to have a tolerance.” 

Harvey glared.

“I’m aware.” 

Sam shouted from across the room.

“One more shot! C’mon, everybody! One more shot!” He began to chant. People hesitantly joined in until the whole room roared.

One! More! Shot! One! More! Shot!

Harvey moaned. 

“Alright, alright!”

~

Harvey seemingly fell asleep during the party. He was not sure of how much time had passed, but the first inklings of light streaming through the saloon windows gave him a sneaking suspicion. In that moment, he realized he was sprawled out on a couch in the game room of the saloon. He sat up, slowly, and felt a searing pain rush to his head.

“Ow,” He groaned. “How long was I out for?”

Gus, doing the dishes behind the bar, looked up with a sly grin.

“Don’t worry, you fell asleep after everyone left.” 

“And before that?”

Gus stopped drying the dish, a twinkle in his eye.

“You were a blast, my good man! Had no idea you had that side of you,” Gus continued, putting away freshly-cleaned glasses. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then after a moment’s hesitation, opened it again. “Had no idea you had so many fantasies about MC, either.”

“Wait, what?” Harvey stood up a bit too quickly, and immediately slid back down to the couch in pain.“Easy there, tiger. Have some of the water I set out for you.” He gestured to a class sitting on a side table. Harvey sat quietly, mind slowly but surely processing, clicking in protest like rusted gears.

“But really, Gus...what happened last night?”

“Depends. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Harvey pondered for a moment.

“You were all shouting for me to take another shot, so I did.”

Gus laughed heartily.

“Oh, boy. You’re in for a real story!” 

Wonderful.

--

Thanks for the ask, dude :)))

[sapphyrelily]

people were never meant to be alone

Inspired by a love song/non-love song by Jon Cozart and Dodie Clark

i. Semi

It’s beautiful tonight.

It seems odd, that I can still think this, even after all that’s happened, even after being left behind, like this.

But maybe that’s not quite true.

We've made our choices, and though circumstance has had a part in it too, the end result is the same.

I am here, and he isn’t.

The lights dancing across the water are captivating, breaking apart and coming back together, jolted sideways by the waves. Above the harbour, the streetlamps and lights of the buildings shine, bright and welcoming, even though it is close to nine.

I laugh a little, and the sound that escapes surprises even me – it sounds so bitter. But maybe that’s true. I do feel kind of bitter.

It’s lucky that everyone else is too caught up in each other to notice me.

It’s an odd habit, but I pat the railing before I step away, casting a last look at the small bit of sea invading the harbour, at the ships bobbing on it.

Tomorrow, one of those will set sail, a cruise bound for Thailand before looping around and returning here.

Here. That’s a funny thought.

Here, where I am, where we were supposed to be, together.

I’m rambling again.

But hey, at least I’m not like every other sappy couple here.

I am alone, a tourist, even though I am visiting all these sites populated with couples.

-----

My room is a small one – large enough for just me, maybe a squeeze if I were to share it.

The bottle of wine on the table seems to mock me – as does the single glass beside it. I do not look at them, but open the balcony door, leaning on the railing to regard the pool below.

I should put it out of mind and enjoy my stay here – my mini vacation, in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

Definitely not the most romantic, said to be the busiest and the least happy.

It doesn’t seem all that different from Japan, to me, except that the malls are more crowded, the weather decidedly more humid, and the people are louder.

It is probably a cultural thing, but it’s…peaceful.

It’s nice, I suppose, to be able to hide in a crowd like this, where the bustle drowns out your thoughts.

Where I don’t have to think about what others think of us, where I don’t have to pretend that it’s something it’s not.

“You are together? Congratulations.”

Ha.

Maybe once, Wakatoshi. But no longer.

I don’t quite know how to describe us, anymore. It’s a sort of limbo, and neither wants to make the first move to unbalance the equation.

So we keep pretending, I guess. We haven’t slept in the same bed in months, nor have we spoken of anything past usual pleasantries and maybe a joke or two.

It’s like we regressed back to being friends, or perhaps, distant acquaintances.

No, that’s not it. Still friends, but nothing close to what we shared before.

It’s sad.

I sigh and retreat back into the room, turning out the lights, the lightest click the only sound in the following darkness.

The covers are thick, still cool from the air-conditioning, and his voice follows me, a complaint replayed at the slightest touch of coolness.

I tuck myself in and shut his voice out, willing my brain to stop talking.

(I wonder, is this what it’s like, to grow apart?)

 ii. Shirabu

“Okay, and again!”

You smile for the camera, tilting your head in the angle he likes best, letting the artificial wind push the hair back across your face. The camera clicks in quick succession, the director calls a halt, and you step out of the blinding lights.

Another day, another job done.

You hate the long hours and the lights, the fussing and twittering, but modelling is a job that pays well, despite all that it takes from you.

You feel your mind begin to drift, skipping down the forbidden path, and you force it back, slapping it back on track.

You thank the director, the photographer, the make-up artists… Everyone that you must greet gets their share of thanks before you can excuse yourself to the luxurious room they prepared for you.

Luxurious, but empty.

Your mind wanders again, to the thought of companionship in a sun-drenched place, of warm hearts and elbows rubbing, and easy conversations.

You have but one of those, when you took up this job, and left behind a chance at perhaps, something more.

You are alone, in the taxi, and you decide that maybe, it would be alright to entertain these thoughts. This notion, that you could have had a full bloom, when you already have a half-open bud.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting your foolish thinking, and you pull it out.

It’s funny, that the name on the screen matches the face you were just thinking about.

Typing back a quick reply, you hit Send before you realise what a plain, generic answer that was. The same kind of answer you are used to giving, the one that never merits a bigger response than that.

Something small, that you noticed only recently, that is probably why you are growing apart.

Huh. You were growing apart. From the one person who never stopped pursuing you in the past – yet it seems otherwise, now.

(When did he stop? When did he stop running, slowing past walking, coming to a crawl?)

(Will he decide to turn back?)

(Is it worth trying to salvage it?)

Your phone buzzes again, and you see bright photos, lovely scenery, coupled with a smile you know all too well.

Wish you were here! The caption reads, but you shake your head and smother a laugh.

He doesn’t, not really. He admitted so when he was drunk once, though he was quick to re-affirm that he adores you.

(Maybe not so soon, but someday, someday, surely.)

(Surely, he will leave.)

Sometimes you wish you could have returned that affection in the way that he wanted, but yours is a friendship turned relationship of convenience. There is no love lost between you, especially after so many years.

(Sometimes, you wish there was.)

But looking at the photo, you let yourself dream a little.

What would it have been like, if you had followed him?

 iii. Semi

The streets are always so busy, no matter where I turn. Maybe it’s because I don’t know any non-tourist areas, but where would be the fun in pretending I was anything but a tourist?

My phone’s​ camera is awful, but good enough, and I manage to get shots of buildings with not too much sky in them – Satori never lets me live it down if there’s too much sky in a photo.

“Are you taking picture of the thing or of the sky?”

I turn my face down, hoping everyone else is minding their own business. It wouldn’t do for a tourist to be upset on a holiday, now, would it?

Except that I still am upset. By something found and lost, but mostly by the what-if of it all.

It would be easier, perhaps, to pretend. As I always do – as we always do, did.

And it’s not so hard, to pretend, when I can practically hear his voice yammering inside my head.

It’s only hard because I know it’ll never happen again.

And I can’t help it, I can’t help the thought that forms automatically, despite knowing that it would benefit me to not think about it.

I miss you.

 iv. Shirabu

It’s quiet, but still a little busy – this is, after all, a city that hardly sleeps. The lights weaving together on the arches of the bridge are bright, but not blinding, the glow enough to set a mood.

You try not to glance around – left and right are couples strolling hand in hand, though there is the occasional single or a small family. It matters not who they are, but what they have – relationships, bonds, people they care about and to whom they can return after a long day.

You cannot say that you have the same luxury now.

You left your base, your home ground – the metaphorical nest. You stepped out and spread your wings, hoping the downdraft would lift and help you glide to the ground.

You have glided this far, and the winds are failing, the current dying away. You have not looked down – have never looked down, have been too trusting, too confident – and now, you are uncertain where you’d land.

Your phone is silent in your pocket, despite usually being the opposite – and that is answer enough.

You’ve landed somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere hostile, and you do not have a single person at your back to fall back on, to trust in.

(A barren land, desert and unforgiving sand, with neither water nor sustenance. A place where one will perish, for sure.)

Maybe…

Maybe you should’ve held on.

(The memory of an empty inbox, unsent drafts, cutting words tears at your heart.)

(A figure turned away, without a since glance back.)

(Dismissal.)

You look ahead and exhale through your mouth, trying not to crumple.

(Pretty pictures fold themselves away inside your mind, hiding in a box, sliding into a dark and dusty corner.)

 v. Semi

I’m back.

Back here, at the waterfront, with the lights shining over the water, but this time, no boat in the harbour.

I can hear the soft murmuring of the couples at my back, and for the umpteenth time, I wonder, why am I doing this to myself?

(I’m not sure I’ll ever find an answer.)

But watching them, even the slightest glance, brings back floods of memories, remnants of times past, and it’s like they are happening anew.

A hearty laugh, a shock of red hair, hands pushing at mine, until his hands are on the controls instead. “Eita-kun, you suck so much at this. Let me get it.”

Within a minute, a large plush is in my arms, blocking my vision.

But I can hear his laugh from over it, and the unbridled joy in it makes me smile.

I can see an arcade from where I stand, and have to turn away, bite my lip, keep the emotion back.

“Aisle seat?”

“Nooo. Oh my goodness, you never watch movies from the side! There, we’re taking H-10 and 11. Right in the centre.”

“Satori–”

“Shh. It’ll be better, trust me.”

The movie theatre is on the opposite side of the mall. I start towards it, trying to keep my face blank, but I’m failing, falling.

“You’ve got a choice. Pick one.”

I look at both shirts, but neither of them impress me. He shoves one at me anyway, pushing me into the changing room, and I have to catch myself on the wall, but I’m laughing.

They were good times. That is for sure.

Hands swinging by each other, until finally one gives up and grabs a hold of the other, pinkies loosely intertwined.

“Eita?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

I have to cover my face for a moment, the memory is so strong.

A chaste kiss, lips lifted in a smile.

“Forever?”

“Always.”

But forever is shattered, like powdered glass, and there’s not enough of it left to fit in a stained-glass window.

Forever spins away on a breeze, and I watch it go, left behind with a half-hearted lie.

 vi. Shirabu

Your fingers hover over the blackened screen, the train’s lights reflecting off of it.

You are hesitating.

You are reluctant.

It’s for good reason, you tell yourself, fingers clenching around the device, turning it over so you can’t see​ the screen.

But in the next moment, you have flipped it over again, unlocked it, and you stare at a background that only heightens your conflict.

A picture of the two of you, smiling broadly for the camera.

You still remember how it was taken, a giant cliché.

You are laughing, hard enough that he has to support you, because you are bent over, wheezing.

“Shirabu-san.”

There’s a lilt of happiness in his voice, a tad more than usual, and you look up, only for the camera shutter to go off.

You don’t bother to make him delete it, because your good mood remains – and also because you like the way he tries to preserve memories like this, sometimes.

His arm around your waist is warm, as is the sun reflecting off your smiles in the photo.

You bite your lip as you stare at the screen, chest aching horribly.

You open your messaging app, stare at the latest message, and once again, exit without sending anything new.

Your home screen wallpaper mocks you, and you have a sudden urge to change it.

Don’t, a voice inside you whispers, but you shake it off and open your photo gallery.

It is so difficult to pick something, anything, but you settle on a patch of blooming flowers, lit by the setting sun, even though you are breaking apart.

You know better.

This is the way to redemption, and to salvaging what’s left of your…friendship.

You are better, smarter than this. You should know, you should know that the only way to get over this is to leave it alone.

You do know.

And that is why you slip your phone into your bag, watching the flashing lights for the upcoming train station instead of trying to reply, because you only make things worse when you speak.

 vii. Meeting

Two figures headed in the same direction, paths bifurcating at the casino. They almost don’t notice each other, both caught up in their own world, in their haze of distraction.

Neither of them really knows who notices the other first – but they agree that it started with the fireworks.

The fireworks, that go off in the amusement park at eight thirty, a light show that most people stop to stare at.

It is in the aftermath – or perhaps, even the middle of it, the glow lighting the faces beneath – that they stop, and their eyes meet.

They promptly look away, neither of them acknowledging the other, still half in a daze, still hoping, dreaming, on their own.

But the fireworks die away, and the world begins moving again, except for the two stationary figures, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

One of them does move – a shake of his head, a wry smile – turning away. Everything he does screams his belief that he is seeing things, and he will not entertain it.

And the other – it is his turn, his move, and he takes the first step.

The first lifting and dropping of a foot, and then another, and another, before his shoes are clicking rapidly across the concrete, catching up, and a hand placed on a shoulder.

A whisper of a name – in disbelief, questioning, and the one who turned away first – he blinks slowly, as if waking from a dream.

A curious, wondrous smile lifts his lips, and he greets the other in a sighing cadence.

Hello.

 viii. Catching up

They go back to his room, because it is smaller, quieter, more private.

Small pleasantries, an exchange of information – what they are doing on a small island, so far from their homeland, their jobs, their lives, what they have done since graduation and losing touch.

Neither of them speak about the golden band resting on the table, or the silver one hanging around a neck. It’s as if they recognise the pain in each other’s eyes, and there is a mutual understanding, though they have never agreed on much, before.

The hour is late when their mouths are dry, and one of them stands to leave. The other is just as quick to catch his sleeve, gently asking him to stay.

It’s late. I’ll lend you some clothes.

It is odd, but he has no reason to refuse, not when he doesn’t have to work the next day. And maybe…

Maybe he does need some form of companionship, if only in the form of someone he used to dislike so much.

Maybe, it would be alright to stay.

(Just for a bit.)

 ix. Quiet moments

The bed is large enough for the two of them, and they lie on opposing sides, facing away from each other.

But sleep does not come easily, and in the midst of tossing and turning, they begin to bicker.

It’s almost nostalgic, the jibes and insults thrown, but neither let up, and they end up poking and kicking each other under the blanket as if they were still in high school.

Nobody knows who won, but lying there in the relative quiet, with the air-conditioning as white noise, it’s almost easy to pretend that they are both okay.

But silence is a tricky thing, like the molten glass that glassblowers mould.

Who are you engaged to?

Is that a promise ring?

They laugh at their overlapping words. They’ve always been too similar, in some ways.

 x. Secrets

They argue over who would start first, until one caves.

It was Satori.

Was?

I don’t know, but I don’t think we are together any more. Not in that sense, at least.

A low hum, understanding, accepting.

Non-judgemental.

You’re right, you know.

What?

This. It’s sort of like a promise ring. He lets the ring fall from jointless fingers; it clinks against the chain, falling silent against the bed. But promises are always broken.

A beat of silence – he takes that as agreement, but then the other begins speaking again.

Not true. Promises are what you make them.

He snorts. Maybe so, but not this one. This was always in a limbo and ready to be broken.

Oh?

Yeah.

A lengthier silence, and he stares at the ceiling, waiting, waiting, for him to ask.

He doesn’t.

You’re not curious? He can’t help himself – he can’t imagine anyone not wanting to pry. About who the other ring belongs to?

You’d tell me, if you wanted. His voice is so trusting – it’s not fair.

(It’s plain to see who has matured more over the years.)

(He doesn’t like it.)

Tsutomu has the other ring.

It feels like an admission, a soft, whispered thing, yet also a loud, shouted thing – a gunshot in the darkness, a secret that he doesn’t want to bring to light.

And?

He huffs. I thought you weren’t going to pry.

I know you, and you want to tell me. You just need a push.

He gets a kick for his troubles, but hears a sigh, and eventually, the other starts talking.

 xi. Moving on

The funny thing about people, is how they pretend they can survive alone, when really, they need support at least some of the time.

That is how humans work, as does the beautiful-ridiculous thing called companionship.

They talk through the night, till the sun peeks through the bottom of the curtains, and that is when they decide to sleep.

When they wake, another day is gone, but the burden on their hearts has eased.

It feels like they are going to go back to pretending they hate each other, go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.

But one of them makes a tiny offer, and the other accepts, and then they are wandering the mall until closing time, trading banter as they walk back along the bridge.

It’s almost friendly, and they trade numbers, a teasing parting of ways.

Call me.

You sound desperate.

I mean when you need to talk, brat.

Hmm, no.

You are ridiculous.

You are absurd.

Pain-in-the-ass.

Naggy.

I’m trying to be nice.

Don’t.

Fine.

Fine.

They turn away, but glance back, and burst out laughing.

They are broken, and patched up, their repairs messy but feasible for the moment.

They are flightless birds, but they have learnt to walk, and maybe, run.

They smile at each other a last time and part ways, hearts lighter than they were before.

Romance is a lie, but you can find companionship in the oddest places.