#The string has the added value of making it easy to pull out if they accidentally swallow the bone

[bonefall]

Thinking about that one post about the 5000 year old teenager girl found buried with her collection of 180 sheep ankle bones but specifically the addition of how ankle bones were used as dice back then and she was a gamer.. what I'm getting at is: would clan cats make bone dice and Are They Gaming

First let me teach you a little bit about Knucklebones: The Game.

You probably know one of its variants better as Jacks, that game you play with a rubber ball and little metal spikes. There's a version of Knucklebones in nearly every culture, where the basic idea is to throw an object up in the air, pick up as many of the smaller objects as possible, and then catch the larger object before it hits the ground.

In cultures with a lot of access to livestock, usually the hand and ankle bones of sheep would be used. Places that don't have them might use rocks, seeds, shells, whatever. It was Ancient Greece that had such an extreme take on the game that it eventually evolved into dice-throwing-- a totally chance-based game where you would just throw the biggest foot bone of a sheep (the astralagus; equivalent to the talus in a human) and see how they landed.

So the girl they uncovered in Kazakhstan with the 180 sheep bones wasn't really buried "with dice," make sense? It's more like being buried with jacks. Central Asia is actually jam-packed with knucklebones-types games. Mongolian Shagai is recognized by UNESCO.

And it makes a TON of sense, because those regions are grasslands absolutely ideal for raising sheep.

SO. CLAN CATS.

There's two major considerations here;

ONE: The access to, and size of, sheep bones.

Clan cats don't kill sheep. TRIBE cats actually have access to sheep and kill one or two a year! I would actually like to give them a bunch of special uses for various parts of the sheep. I think the eagle-killing thing in canon is actually pretty ridiculous for several reasons

BUT THAT SAID, an astralagus is the size of a cat's paw.

[ID: A human holding an astralagus in the tips of its fingers.]

You'd need to play a different sort of game with this. It's more like a square softball to a cat than a little rubber ball.

Boar also have bones like this, though. A muntjac probably produces bones that are sized properly for a cat. Hares and rabbits are probably the BEST bet here though, which, somehow feels right. I'm not sure why, but WindClan seems like the gamerclan Clan that would think up these sorts of cute games.

Something about it fits their whole savvy culture, tunneling, emphasis on trade and invention pre-Heatherstar. ShadowClan and WindClan share a cultural value of innovation, but ShadowClan seems more... chemical and competitive.

Hard to explain it. ShadowClan invents flax retting and WindClan invents the drop spindle. There's overlap but it has a bit of a different flavor between them.

TWO: Range of motion

I've made BB!Cats have the same range of motion as the cats in canon, which is higher than a real cat. They're able to WEAVE, you can't do that without a basic pincher grasp. They're also able to mix herbs, wrap things up in leaves, and apply bandages.

I haven't actually given my reworked cats much more ability than they already had, I just codified rules based on what we already see.

But that said, they DO have less range of motion in their hands than humans. They have little thumbs and a better ability to grab, but can't twist their paws completely upwards. There's no way they can toss an object straight up, then catch it again.

So any games they do play would need to accommodate that. So far I've got Scratchstone, Teeterstrike, and an unnamed rhyme game. The bone game would need to look more like a game of marbles than jacks. Or, maybe more modified to accommodate swipes and strikes, somehow? Or a two-person game of catch?

Gotta think about it.

[keksalot404]

Uh oh! Some BOZO decided to play UNDERTALE and UNDERTALE YELLOW at the same time (Both games FUN value was 66) and now the timeline is F*CKED (By about one year; It wasn't that long till Frisk came along)

This is the Guide to UNDERTALE ROM LEAK, mostly a frame of reference for me and you regarding this AU born from a doodle and a dream. Those who just want to see the art with no context, feel free to click the top pic and swipe down or something.

A Tale of 2.5 Souls

Seems like whatever the reason Frisk went to the mountain, they ended up tailing Clover, where the game begins. Control between the 2 fallen children is split, meaning that both Frisk and Clover are free to express their quirks and personalities more.

Adding to that, NarraChara is also here, being visible to Frisk, Clover, AND the player due to more determination in the area. Frisk still has higher DT than Clover, so they're in charge of LOADing and SAVEing as well as playing leader.

Prepare For Trouble, Make It Double!

Now obviously the timeline can't really be UT or UTY if all major events need to be dealt with. The universe's solution? Now every Major Character (and perhaps minor ones) are paired up with their cross game counterparts. While encounters for each monster can be seperate, eventually they will cross paths with eachother and the fallen humans.

With each section of the Underground now longer with even paired area newly connected (More on how that works later), it'd feel like even 2 player characters can't make it easy. Fortunately for a certain route, you may get some help...

Kanako

To fill a void for a Certain Short Scientist, seems fate pulled a few strings, and brought a new friend back from near-death! If you don't kill any monsters during RUINS, Kanako will sense your pure hearts and join the party, acting as the Ralsei to this Diet Fun Gang.

With healing and shield magic, she'll make your journey a lot more manageble, at the cost of not being able to kill any monsters all the way until Asgore (She will still allow you to spare monsters by lowering health but if she senses a chance to kill she will block the attack and scold you for it.)

Being a much more attentive protector than the Skeleton, she'll accompany Frisk and Clover through the emotional highs and lows of their journey, and perhaps maybe...

You'll find out the true reason she's helping you.

Stronger Monsters

For the characters of the 2 timelines being destined to meet, it is also true that destiny will point into blocking your path. For the Major Battles at least, you'll have to fight both of them at the end of each paired areas. An example being meeting North Star in Wild East only for Starlo's betrayal being calling Undyne to hunt you during Waterfall.

Expect combo attacks, fused soul modes, and complex strategies when facing the duel bosses. Some might even compromise Kanako from assisting. No fight has the same solution as the UT and UTY fights (except maybe Papyrus and Martlet), so be prepared and stay determined!

So have fun while you can, won't you? It's not likely you will get these games together again. You wouldn't waste this once-in-a-while experience just to do something you'll regret.

You wouldn't waste it just to see what happens...

...right?...

...

[k-6196]

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Desi!Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon see his girlfriend in a saree for the very first.

Warnings: Simon being whipped, slight spice at the end, my horrible writing skills

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: whoever reads this thank you for doing so! i really wanted to see Ghost with a desi reader because i’m highly self-indulgent and can’t bring myself to watch another lecture today ^^ Again I do apologise for my writing, it has been a very long time since I’ve written anything descriptive :/

———————

“Love, you in here?”

“In the kitchen, Jaanu!”

Stirring the piping hot mixture, a beautiful woman in red slowly added milk. Continuing her stirring she paid no mind to the footsteps approaching the kitchen doorway. Each step grew heavier than the next. Her boyfriend had just come back from a short mission with his task force. A simple one which barely lasted a few days yet she knew something was amiss. Call it a gut feeling but she knew despite its simplicity the mission took a toll on her boyfriend. Deciding to do something sweet for him, she decided to make him Chai. To be more exact she was making Masala Chai, a very popular drink in South Asia consisting of black tea in milk and water with sugar, herbs and spices. It was a comfort drink she saw her parents drink while growing up. Its flavour brought about contentment and satisfaction followed by a soothing warm feeling. A perfect beverage for someone who needed to relax a bit.

Walking towards the kitchen in the home they shared, Simon slowly discarded the hoodie he was wearing. Shedding his skull mask he came to a stop right at the doorway. A wonderful aroma hit his nostrils. The smell itself made the man feel all warm inside. However, the real highlight of his return is the sight that greeted him. It left the man speechless. His heartbeat quickened. He felt his breath get caught in his throat. Unable to find it in himself to disturb the peace, Simon leaned against the doorway. Crossing his arms, he let out a small sigh. Right in front of him was his gorgeous girlfriend in a beautiful red saree; granted he didn't know exactly what it was but the behemoth of a man was enthralled nonetheless.

The silky red fabric sat stretched around her hips. The fabric flowed all the way down to the kitchen floor and shifted with every small movement. It almost seemed like it was floating in tendrils around her. One end of the Saree draped over her shoulder, leaving her back bare to his hungry eyes. What truly caught Simon’s eyes was the single knot tying a deep red blouse on the woman’s upper back, leaving her nasal completely free. The tassels at the end of the strings seemed to jump every time she moved. It would be so easy to untie them. A simple tug and they would come loose.

So, so easy.

Simon wanted to ravage her there and then. There his girlfriend stood innocently preparing chai for him after a long few days away. Yet here he was, thirsting away just from seeing her back, just from seeing her in that enchanting red piece. It was so seductive to the man that he almost let out a low groan. Who could blame him though? His beautiful girlfriend looking even more divine than usual in that red sari was standing right in front of him. Just within arms reach. Showing her love for him by making something that meant something to her. Making something that she treasures and values so much due to how deeply entwined it is with her culture and childhood. Making it for him. How could he not be attracted to her? How could he control the urge to worship her, worship the ground where she stood?

Finally deciding that he could admire her more up close, Simon made his way towards his lover. Grabbing her hips, careful not to disturb her stirring, he pulled her towards his chest. Feeling her soft skin against his chest almost sent the man’s eyes rolling backwards. Sensing her lover behind her, the woman slowly lowered the flame until it was no more and tilted her head up. Sparkling eyes met tired ones and instantly Simon captured her lips in a soft kiss. She spun around in his arms, careful to stay clear from the hot stove and wrapped her eyes around his neck.

“Evenin’, Love.”

“Hi, Ghostie,” she said grinning ear to ear. That grin. That damned grin made him want to get on his knees for her. Eyes softening, he leaned in closer till their foreheads were millimetres apart. His eyes trailed down. One hand went to her back to hold the red fabric in between his fingers. Ruffling it between his fingers, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“And what’s this pretty thing you’re wearing?” he asked. Grin widening even more she pushed him back a bit. Making enough room between the two of them for her to twirl around yet still allow him to hold onto her.

“It’s a saree. It’s actually one I bought a long time ago and didn’t know when to wear it. Felt like being extra pretty today so I decided to put it on.” she said. Looking down she held onto her skirt and lifted it slightly.

“It’s slightly complicated but not really at the same time. It’s mainly just a long piece of fabric you wrap around your waist, pleat and then throw over your shoulder. Under the main skirt area, you wear a petticoat and on top, it's a fitted blouse, we call it Choli,” she explained. Continuing her small rant, she seemed to get lost in her own little world.

Simon couldn’t help but stare at her. Heart full of love and endearment for the woman in front of him. Listening to her drone on and on about something she was so passionate about was a favourite activity of his. The way her eyes would light up and widen. The way her hands would move to suit emphasis her points or exaggerate them. The way the room seemed to light up around her. Simon Riley was a man completely and utterly smitten by her and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“But the thing that pissed me off the most was how the pins kept pricking me!” she exclaimed. “You’d honestly think that wearing this for over ten years would reduce the number of pinpricks you get but that’s a load of bullshit!”

Before she could continue with her mini-rant, Simon lifted her chin and brushed his lips against her. Instantly, she went quiet and stared at him wide-eyed. Her breath got caught in her throat and she could only focus on the darkening eyes peering into her. The air thickened around them. A new tension slowly builds in both of them. Licking his lips, Simon says, “How about you take your pretty little self up to the bedroom and lay down, Love.”

“Need my Princess to be comfortable while I ravage every inch of you.” Slowly feeling herself becoming a lot smaller she absently nodded her head. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for Simon. Pulling her closer, he held her hips in a way that there would definitely be bruises the following morning. Making sure every inch of his body was pressing into her, Simon leaned in close to her ear. Breath tickling the sensitive point right above her ear, she shivered in anticipation.

“Now be a good little doll and move along. Wouldn’t want me to get impatient and ruin this beautiful saree you have on,” he continues. “Would be an absolute shame to stain it.” Still, she remains rooted where she stands; absolutely dazed by the way Simon was caging her in. Almost as if he was trying to consume her right there and then. Grabbing her jaw, he gave her a look, a warning. Either listen to his orders or face the consequences. But honestly, knowing him and what he can do, would facing the consequences actually be a bad thing?

Maybe she’ll wear the red saree more often.

[semi-sketchy]

Frontiers writing really does feel like "okay let's grab what people love talking about online" mixed with hazy memories of what happened in past games without anyone bothering to, you know. ACTUALLY look at what happened in them.

And then a lot of new stuff being added that then, isn't expanded.

Yup. It's dangling keys in front of my face when I know exactly what those keys go to, and it's not what you're telling me. Like I'm not an encyclopedia and I've got an awful memory, but even I know off the top of my head that Eggman didn't stop Neo Metal in Heroes. Considering how much Flynn loves that storyline I'm honestly surprised he got this wrong.

The cutscenes in general are quite shoddy and miss a valuable piece of writing advice: be careful about including normal conversations.

True, people DO talk this way, but the reason we don't write about it and instead condense it to a "they chatted about the weather for a few minutes" is because it's boring.

I feel like I should give the side stories more slack since they're optional, but they're really so meaningless. Well, they're SUPPOSED to mean something, they're meant to build up this mystery, but just asking mundane questions about random stuff isn't really what I'd call "building a mystery." It's just characters speculating about tiny little details surrounding the ancient culture that doesn't loop back into the overall mystery. They're not good foreshadowing and add nothing of value, not even entertainment. They're all so impersonal since they don't even use these little scenes to show how well the characters bounce off each other.

If you want an example of this done well, there's TONS of optional discussions in Xenoblade 3 where the gang just talk about regular stuff, but it's so funny because they don't know what the hell they're talking about. There's one where Sena accidentally invents zoos, it's great and I'm mad no one has compiled them on YouTube yet Of course, there's also stuff to expand on the lore and world building, but they're mostly reserved for everyday antics that highlight the excellent dynamics these characters have.

And that's what makes them good. It's not just "Everyday conversation #16" because it gives the characters a chance to make something a little more personal to them.

Frontiers misses that mark by because it needs these characters to be informational mouthpieces to move the plot and that destroys the concept of character voice.

Tails uses big words to signal that he's the smart one when his actions spoke well enough for him before. Eggman is literally just sitting on the sidelines for 80% of the plot and instead of pulling any strings, he's reading textbooks into audio logs. Like buddy. You have an AI that is totally obedient, why is your order "find me a way out of here" when you're studying this place? YOU are the one coming up with answers and connections everywhere, why aren't YOU looking for a way out yourself instead of sitting on your ass and relishing in a robot punching Sonic? Fucks sake, Sage can activate these ancient weapons, have her USE THEM to GET RID OF SONIC so he can't UNLEASH THE BEAST. This is such a simple and easy way to make the plot more interesting I will not stop harping on it

I wonder if this story will sour on people over time or if in 10 years it will still be praised it as one of the greats.

[thetalentedmrwulf]

Abstracting Money in PF2E

Percolating something in my brain about Pathfinder 2e to abstract money / treasure. I like big damn hero / big damn villain stories, and if we're going to spend a session shopping, I'd prefer if it was because we had to find merchants that had what we needed and gossip about rumors than balance a ledger.

Prototype in my head is as follows -

Pathfinder 2e attaches Levels to most things - settlements, items, et al. Item levels give DMs a decent idea where in the power scale something is, settlement level indicates power level acquirable in that place, generally speaking. Items tagged Uncommon or Rare are harder yet to find even than that and may even be questing foci.

Further, because the game has proficiency equal your level + a bonus equal to how proficient you are (Trained +2, Expert +4, Master +6, Legendary +8), it also has pretty standardized difficulty rolls. The correct difficulty for a Level 10 problem is easy to chart or calculate, whichever you prefer, with stock modifiers for tweaking up or down if its relatively easy or hard in that instance.

So.... just use Level and a money stat to get what you need. First, we abstract money. Make the stat "Coin" (just because stealing from Blades in the Dark is fun.) Quantity of Coin for a task should map right to the Encounter builder - Trivial gives a Meager Reward, Low gives a Modest Reward, Moderate gives a Major Reward, Severe gives an Excellent Reward, Extreme gives an Epic Reward. This isn't an exact science like the encounter builder is; this should be based on the priority a person requesting a problem be solved views it as. Use the already existing "Make a Request" action to haggle over money or request tangible assistance since it already uses the built-in disposition system. Keep in mind, each party member gets one of these when completed. Then, for social, exploration, or combat encounters as relevant, hand out smaller Rewards from 1-3 as the quest progresses.

Now, when you need to buy an item, use the default level difficulty chart / math for any item you need. If the item is more than 4 levels lower than your level, presume you can purchase as many as are reasonably available. Then, as long as you have any "Reward" in hand, you can roll to buy something, adding the bonus of the Reward your risking. Each level of Reward gives you a +1, +2, +4, +6, or +8 depending on the level. Get a Critical Success, you get the Item for a great deal, you can buy a second Item of equal value and the Reward goes down a level. Get a regular success, and it's the same as a Critical, buy you only successfully purchase one item. Get a failure, and you purchase the item, but your Reward goes down by two. If you can't decrease this Reward by two, you owe the merchant a favor in return. If you Critically Fail, the item is harder to come by than you imagined and you're going to have to pull some strings to get it at all, potentially taking a job or quest. On getting the result, I think the player can always choose to walk away from getting the item if the price is too steep.

If you really want to lean into the idea of Uncommon, Rare, and say, Legendary items of certain levels being tough to acquire, make it so services or items rendered REQUIRE a certain level of Reward to make the roll. The important part of this system is you NEVER fail to acquire the item. It's just more expensive than you intended or more roundabout.

Feats that already modify getting a better price can be retrofit or new ones can be created that let you also add Cha, Int or Wis, or use a Skill in place of the Reward to haggle a better deal. I also think this could tie into Crafting nicely with the system that already exists.

That's all for now!

[ruby-whistler]

a lot of people seem to have the attitude "he should've just let them had what they wanted!" when it comes to technoblade and dream both going against l'manberg, and absolutely no offense, but that seems... so awfully naive to me?

[ /dsmp /rp | the other reason why l'manberg deserved to fall ]

it looks like people automatically assume "what they wanted" was good, and that everything would've been fine if it wasn't for techno and dream being in the way. so let's look at what the leaders they fought against actually wanted, shall we?

let's start at the beginning, then.

wilbur (all names in this essay refer to the characters) made l'manberg after he failed to take control of the economy by making a capitalist empire based on lies, rumors and theft.

we're starting off strong, i see.

he referred to tommy as someone to mould or build upon multiple times, saying he is naive and calling it a good thing, even mentioning people like tubbo or fundy as the "a lot of tommyinnits" he could use take advantage of for his plans. these were people who were the most useful in terms of being hardworking and passionate, and arguably the most easily manipulated.

...cool. this still doesn't tell us what he wanted to do with l'manberg, but it gives us a sense of this guy's moral compass and honesty.

wilbur, to his soldiers at least, says that he made l'manberg for freedom and protection. ...freedom to steal from people? protection from... everyone except the guy who wants to exploit them?

yeah no, i'm not trusting anything he says.

let's turn to what wilbur said out of character about the motives with which wilbur the character created l'manberg.

"you could create something that you believe is worth having power over, and because you want to have power over it, everyone else will believe it's important, even though it's not." [ link ]

...alright, well that sorts out that question i suppose.

wilbur after his revival says that l'manberg was a "useful tool" that did what it was supposed to do; it divided. since naturally i'm not going to take his words at face value if it would kill me, let's turn back to what wilbur was actually saying and doing back when he made l'manberg, because maybe his memory has just faded, right?

*rewatching the vod* is he. is he quoting tr*mp's speech about building a wall and "making the mexicans pay for it" while being openly xenophobic towards the people who originally lived in the lands and building a giant wall?

ooo boy. cc!wilbur knew what he was doing, wasn't he?

see, if you rewatch the vods and look at them as satire on american propaganda (including the hamilton references) everything starts to fall into place.

but hey, l'manberg changed, right? it grew into something more than that initial quest for glory... right? i mean, the l'manberg government wasn't even corrupt up until schlatt's reign, right?

*laughs* no.

let's fast-forward.

l'manberg... hadn't done much after the revolution. it was just a safe space, but not really. people are living just as they did before, and neither wilbur nor l'manberg really changed much.

wilbur doesn't like that, and that is clear from what happens next.

Wilbur: “Tommy, we need power.”

Tommy: “Yeah?”

Wilbur: “I’ve tried – I spoke to Fundy and Tubbo yesterday, I told them how I didn’t like the civil war they were having, you know the fights that were going on.”

Tommy: “Yeah, that huge war in our name, yeah.”

Wilbur: “I told them I wasn’t happy with it, I told them to stop. Do you remember when you started getting angry at Dream, and I tried to control you, and you ignored me? …Yeah. See, this is the thing. Tommy, I…I led the revolution, right, but the issue is, is that I sort of became the de facto President, but no one listens to me. No one cares about mine – or your – power. No one cares! To us, we may be in anarchy, you know?”

alright, so a) wilbur dislikes anarchy, that's a good thing to remember for later, b) he's pissed off that people aren't listening to him (and tommy, but he definitely just added that on to make him care about the subject) and he can't "control" them c) he sees more power as a solution. well... maybe he just doesn't want people to fight, right? he's talking about a civil war he couldn't stop, after all.

Wilbur: “We can either, Tommy, right – we can either become a dictatorship, okay…we can just suddenly decide, ‘right, we’re in charge,’ and we just start – we start asserting our dominance. Now the key thing to being a dictator, is we need to control the center of power…so we get an army going –”

Tommy: “What is the center of power? Is it like some cube, or like an orb?”

Wilbur: “The army! The army! The banks, you know? We take control of those, and then people will do exactly as we say, right? That’s the dictatorship route, right. The other route is the democracy route. Now, this route’s gonna be slightly harder, but I have a plan. So I was thinking…what better way of making people believe that you’re in charge than by having them vote for you, right?”

so, wilbur was thinking of getting "an army going" to "control the center of power" and to "take control" of "the banks". he saw this as a valid solution to people not bending to his authority.

then he turned to election fraud instead, which he puts as straight-up manipulation of his people into believing he isn't a dictator.

...what. i'm not going to praise him for that decision, that's not even the bare minimum - he's still being a prick and showing just how much he actually doesn't care about what the "people he claims to care about" (cc!wilbur's words again) want.

but let's get back to the point; so, according to all of the current evidence, what did wilbur want?

wilbur wanted glory, power and division, to be able to enforce his authority and take control of his people.

...this is what people are saying dream shouldn't have stood up against in his land and "left them alone". that is what people are saying he should've "let wilbur have" in the home he worked to protect and build for the people he cared about - and keep in mind the dream smp was pretty much an anarchy back then.

this was willbur's intentions, and the first instinct of a lot of people was to paint dream as the tyrant. that just doesn't sit right with me, i'll be honest with you.

what about techno, then?

well, new l'manberg was ruled by tubbo, who was only doing his best - truly doing his best to turn wilbur's lies into a reality. no corruption, no conflict, only a home.

but tubbo was not ever actually in charge, was he?

let's talk about post-16th quackity.

i remember the second tubbo livestream i ever saw live was him rebuilding the crater; putting up grass blocks over the top, with quackity and fundy helping him out. it was when quackity first proposed the idea of getting rid of techno.

tubbo didn't want conflict, and he disagreed at first because it went against his ideals and his morals.

that didn't pan out well for him - and i think that's enough evidence quackity was pulling the strings of the cabinet, if you take into consideration the propaganda, riling up, and overall vengefulness that we suddenly seemed to be working with.

quackity's words didn't speak louder than his actions, but they are still interesting to note; "bring this country to power" being a common theme in his motivation for getting techno and dream "out of the way".

so quackity wanted power as well, and this desire only grew as it was taken further from his reach, but ever since the 16th, it has been very prominent in the way he instructed the new l'manberg government.

techno, the local anarchist who fought (only) oppressive governments that hurt people, was supposed to not do doomsday and "leave l'manberg alone", while what quackity wanted was nothing else than to turn l'manberg back into a tool of power and control.

i'm beginning to see a pattern here.

i am all for giving people the benefit of the doubt, really; but the constant glorification of a revolution leader who did everything for his own power and benefit, and a "secretary" that committed multiple war crimes and literally harmed and manipulated innocents in his quest for power; plus the instantaneous villainization of those who stood as obstacles in their path, is a bit too much even for this fandom's standards, even for me.

i get wilbur and quackity are both silver-tongued bastards able to shift the narrative in their favor, but the grudges people will hold against characters that fight against them and the measures to which they'll reach in order to defend them is wild.

it's not as easy as "they should've let l'manberg be". the people leading l'manberg were far from innocent and had sinister intentions.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 2: The Middle Of Nowhere]

You are a Russian Grand Duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution (1917-1923) and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Lots of shouting, if you never learned about the Russian Revolution then here's your mini crash course, references to historical stuff like violence and disease, Kroshka the mule emerges as the only emotionally stable character.

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @deacyblues @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore

I wake up feeling harder, as if sleeping on the ground with all its stones and cool indifference has taught my spine to straighten, to endure. This is a welcome revelation. I will need to be resilient, for my family and for myself. I also wake determined to set things right with my rescuer. I am a perfectly charming person, Mother and Papa have always said so; I’m not painfully shy like Olga, or aloof like Tati, or rather dull like Maria, and I certainly don’t run around putting frogs in people’s shoes like Anastasia. I make for excellent company. Surely Ben will realize this and we will become inseparable travel companions.

Outside in the overcast brisk morning air, Ben is already busy tacking the mule. He glances over and tosses me an apple. It bounces out of my floundering hands and rolls off into the woods. This is not an auspicious start to the day.

“You’ll still have to eat that,” Ben says. “There’s no extra food. I was only able to ask for as much as I could justify needing myself.”

“Right.” I go fetch the apple—rummaging around in leaves and sticks and shrubs—and take a bite, even though it’s bruised and definitely tastes like dirt. I beam at Ben triumphantly. I am tough! I am daring! I am enchanting! I can pull my own weight on this journey!

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the mule’s thick brown neck and smiles fondly at her. “How are we feeling this morning, Kroshka? Hmm? Who’s a lovely mule? Who’s going to take us all the way to the Trans-Siberian Railroad without even one measly word of complaint? That’s right, you are! Yes you are!” He lands a smacking kiss on the velvety grey fur of her muzzle.

I attempt polite conversation; more than that, I endeavor to learn about my dashing yet evasive rescuer. “So, tell me Ben, have you worked for Sir Buchanan long?”

“Four years,” Ben replies curtly.

“And you are…” I think of his notebook. “A…writer of some sort for him…?”

“I’m his press attaché.”

“Ah.” I recognize the French word for ‘attach,’ but not its meaning in the context of employment with an ambassador. “I can’t say I know what that entails.”

“I handle Sir Buchanan’s relations with the Russian newspapers. Drafting statements and briefing him on local opinions and the like. And since his health has declined, I find myself delivering some of his particularly confidential correspondence.”

“Oh, I see. And he could spare you for this mission? It seems like a burden that would be better carried by a man with military or exploratory experience.”

“My Russian is passable. And I can tolerate rougher conditions than most.” He points to a pile of clothes he’s laid out on a tree stump. “Those are for you. There’s a stream out that way.” He flicks a thumb towards the east. “Get ready however you need to, but be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes.”

I examine the clothing: plain and practical undergarments, a heavy wool sweater, stockings, boots, and something unexpected. I hold them up with clammy hands. “These are…” I swallow noisily. “Trousers.”

“Yes. They’re travel attire. Comfortable and easy to maneuver in if we need to move quickly.”

“I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“I thought you were amenable to a…a…what did you call it? An adventure. A grand adventure.” He says this melodramatically, like there’s some humor in it. Like he’s mocking me.

“I suppose I am,” I mutter, still scrutinizing the trousers.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ben reminds me sternly. Then he begins to disassemble the tent.

I trudge off through the woods until I find the stream. I clean myself with ice-cold water, drink it down until my teeth ache, change out of my nightgown and into these strange new clothes—Trousers! Mother would lock me in church for a month!—and gaze up into the cloudy, pastel blue sky that peeks between the fingers of the trees. It is very still here, and cold, and deathly quiet. I try to remember the last time I was truly alone, without Mother or Papa or my siblings or servants or guards within shouting distance. There is none that I can remember; perhaps there is none at all. Out here in the Siberian wilderness I feel unmoored from civilization, diminutive, vulnerable, peculiarly inconsequential. I decide I don’t like being alone. By the time I return to our campsite, Ben is ready and waiting beside the loaded cart. His right hand is resting on a clunky metal monster with ‘Olivetti’ written on it.

“I’m a press attaché,” he says with a mischievous grin. “And you’re a typist.”

“A what?”

“You work for Sir Buchanan’s office as a typist. That’s our story, anyway. You came along to assist me during my audience with the former tsar, and now we’re traveling back to Sir Buchanan’s headquarters in Saint Petersburg. So if anyone happens to ask, that’s what you are to tell them. Oh, and you’re British. Your English sounds clean enough.”

“Alright,” I reply, still gaping at the metal monster like a black box with gnashing fangs. “But what is that?”

Ben’s jaw falls open. “You don’t…?” Then he rubs his forehead, sighing deeply. “Jesus Christ. You’ve never used a typewriter. Of course you haven’t. Great. Fantastic.”

“We always write by hand. My penmanship is flawless, Mother saw to that.” She’s still battling with Anastasia, but that’s a war that may go on as long as the one between the sun and the moon.

“Okay. Okay. This works out, actually. Because I’m not going to entertain you all day. So here is your assignment.” Ben slaps the back of what he tells me is a typewriter, and then waves for me to come closer. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and produces a British passport. Every line is filled out except for the name. He slides the paper into the machine and makes some bewildering adjustments. “So, you insert the paper, set the carriage—that’s this roller-type piece here—and type.” He taps forcefully on the keys until two words appear in the blank reserved for the passport holder’s name: Lana Brinkley.

“That’s me?” I ask doubtfully.

Ben smirks, amused. “That’s you.”

“So you could have given me a better name if you wanted to!”

“But then how would you learn humility?” He removes the fraudulent passport, shakes the paper until it dries, folds it into a neat little square, and slips it back into his coat pocket. “If you’re typing a longer message, the typewriter will ding when you’ve reached the end of each line. Then you use the lever to move the paper down, reset the carriage, and resume typing.”

I nod, but without much confidence. This seems complicated.

“You said you wanted a carriage,” Ben teases.

“Yes, one with magnificent draft horses and velvet seats and preferably no less than two servants. Not…whatever that is.”

“Well, if you’re going to pass for a typist, I’m afraid you must learn to type.” He finds me a stack of blank paper in his collection of bags and trunks, and then climbs into the front of the cart as I get into the back. The trousers, I hate to admit to myself, do make it easier to move around, although I’m not sure I approve of how much they accentuate the shape of my body. The thought of Ben looking at me in them gives me a plunging sort of feeling that is half-mortification and half-thrill…not that he has exhibited any interest at all. “Before we go any farther, do you have anything with you that I don’t know about?”

He means things like the heirlooms I have squirreled away in the large steamer trunk: the jewels sewn into my dress, the photograph. I can sense that he wouldn’t want me to have them, although I’m not sure why. In any case, I have no intention of giving them up. The jewels are the only thing of value that I have to trade if we find ourselves in a desperate situation. The photograph is the only string left that connects me back to my family, my home. “No,” I reply primly.

“Good.” He whistles at the mule and she tugs us through the trees and out onto the dirt road that leads, eventually, to the train station. As we ride joltingly along, the creaky cart wheels bumping over every rock and mound and muddy trough, I practice my typing: very slowly at first, and with only my index fingers. I read aloud as I go, gradually picking up speed.

“There once was a German princess born in the Duchy of Hesse. She was very beautiful but very shy. She had a wonderful talent for playing piano, but would run and hide if anyone asked her to perform in public. One day, when she was attending the wedding of her sister, the princess met a prince from a distant kingdom. They were only children, but they instantly knew they had found true love. They snuck off together and carved their names into a window pane. Over the years, each conspired to marry the other. They refused many suitors and wrote each other hundreds of letters. His family did not approve of the princess’s religion and lack of charisma; her family did not approve of the prince’s distant and troubled nation. But at last it became apparent to all that no earthly forces could keep the couple apart. Ten years after their first meeting, the prince and princess were finally married. And they lived joyously and peacefully in each other’s service for the rest of their days.”

Ben lights one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. The smoke doesn’t bother me; on the contrary, it reminds me of Papa smoking his pipe in his study, in the garden, as he read to us by the fireplace, as he danced with Mother in ballrooms back when she could still dance. It reminds me of home. “I’m not sure if you’ll ever give Shakespeare a run for his money, but I’ll admit I’m marginally entertained.”

I smile to myself, sentimental warmth rising in my face. “It’s Papa and Mother’s story.”

“Huh. I didn’t know your people were allowed to marry for love.”

By ‘your people,’ he seems to mean royalty, and there is some derision in his deep voice. “Well, surely duty must come first. But when love can accompany it, that’s a happy coincidence.”

“And what if duty compels you to marry a man who is, say, cruel? Or dreadfully boring? Or in love with another woman? Or who closely resembles a mole-rat?”

I resume my typing with a new exercise. For each letter of the alphabet, I type a French word that begins with it. “I don’t think that sort of thing happens very often.”

“But if it did.”

I shrug, not especially enjoying this topic of discussion. “Then duty comes first, as I said. But I believe most royal couples are perfectly content. At least nine out of every ten.”

“That many!” Ben marvels sarcastically. “Have you ever considered that your own personal experience, as pleasant as it may be, could be coloring your perception of how the world works?”

I ignore him and continue my typing. Attaché for A, bisou for B, croissant for C, doux for D…

After a moment, Ben says: “You aren’t going to regale me with another fairytale? I’m devastated.”

“I’m busy practicing my French now. Please don’t intrude.”

“You speak French as well as Russian and English?” He sounds impressed; for a split second anyway, just long enough for me to catch it like a firefly in my fist.

“And Italian, and Latin. And I’ve just started on Japanese.”

“But no German? That seems like it would be an easier beast to slay.”

“I’ve always purposefully avoided learning it, even though Mother’s family is German. I never envisioned myself marrying a German. I figured Maria could take that bullet. She doesn’t care, she’d marry anyone who could give her a castle and ten babies and a bulldog or two. I would say she was a milkmaid in a past life, but Mother’s heart would stop dead if she thought I subscribed to reincarnation.”

“Not fond of Germans?” Ben asks. “Well, who can blame you. Half the world isn’t fond of them at the moment.”

“I suppose they weren’t so awful before the Great War. But they’re rather boorish, aren’t they? They always sound like they’re angry. Like someone just stole their horse and they’re screaming at them from the front porch to come back or else.” I smile dreamily as I type. “I’ve always fancied the thought of marrying a prince from a glamorous, romantic kingdom. Maybe Italy or Greece. There has even been talk of me marrying Uncle George’s eldest son David. He’s rather beguiling. Tall and slim. Clear blue eyes like a lake. And he’s going to be the king of the British Empire one day, you know. We could holiday together in beautiful, sunny colonies like the Bahamas.”

“You’re still as important as all that? Important enough to make a marriage of that political significance, I mean.” Ben glances back at me and lifts one thick, dark, inquisitive eyebrow. “Seeing as your family doesn’t have a kingdom anymore.”

This is an insensitive thing for him to say. I frown down at the typewriter. “A wife almost always assumes the kingdom of her husband, so why should she require her own? She needs only sound breeding and a suitable temperament. And besides, we might yet return one day.”

Ben twists all the way around to stare at me, the reigns falling out of his hands. Fortunately, the mule seems to know her own way around. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It has been a brutal few years. The Great War, the supply shortages, the bad harvests…the people are frustrated, and understandably so. They lashed out blindly, at those who didn’t deserve it, at us. But the dust will clear. And when it does, I think the Russian people will come to their senses and realize that they want us back. That they need us.”

“Are you insane?” Ben snaps. “Are you utterly brainless? What’s floating around in that skull besides fiction and languages you’ll never use once you’re married off to some prince who only sees you as a broodmare?”

“How dare you! You can’t speak to me like this—!”

“For years, for a bloody decade, Sir Buchanan warned your father about what was coming. He tried to get him to moderate his views, to give the people more voice in government, to stop murdering them when they protested. And when none of that worked and the end was apparent, Sir Buchanan tried to convince your father to abdicate long before he did. Don’t you understand?! None of this needed to happen! Your family could have fled to Britain years ago, before the animosity against your father spread like wildfire across the globe, and Russia could have established their own parliament like Britain’s and negotiated a peace treaty to stay out of the war and none of us would be here now if not for your father’s selfish, pointless obstinacy—!”

“My father is a good man,” I choke out as hot, furious tears burn in my eyes.

“And he was a terrible ruler!” Ben shoots back like artillery. “He ordered protesters to be butchered, he sent untrained boys to die in some other country’s war, he clung to the throne for no one’s benefit but his own—”

“And what about my benefit?” I demand, still weeping, feeling monstrously like a child. “What about my mother’s and my sisters’ and Alexei’s? He must have feared for our futures if we were dethroned and left without any resources, any security, anyplace to call home—”

“He did you no favors,” Ben says harshly. “Half the country—the country that you obviously have not even a rudimentary understanding of—are moderates scrambling to secure the Provisional Government and disentangle themselves from the war while still somehow preserving their dignity and that of the millions of dead soldiers Russia has already laid on the altar. The other half are trying to instigate a wholesale communist revolution. There is no one, no one, who wants the tsar back. And you better pray to God that the communists don’t manage to seize power before King George gets your family out, or your father just might be guillotined on the steps of Saint Basil’s Cathedral.”

I bolt to my feet unsteadily, grip the side of the lurching cart, and leap out onto the dirt road.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ben shouts after me.

I take off sprinting down the road, the wind whipping my face, sobbing as I run beneath the shadows of trees until my lungs are columns of flames and my legs feel wobbly and boneless. I can hear the pounding of the mule’s hooves approaching, the hurtling of wooden wheels, the slapping of leather reins. I am forced to slow to a vigorous march as my body betrays me, wheezing and aching and as ineffectual as a woman is so often assumed to be. The salacious trousers have come in handy once again. Who would have guessed.

Ben pulls up alongside me, reining in the mule to match my pace. “Hey! Get back in the cart!”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way to the railroad station.”

“It’s 200 more kilometers!”

“See you there.”

Now Ben jumps out of the cart. The mule, perplexed but not rattled, comes to a halt and waits in the middle of the road with her long ears angled in opposite directions. Ben rushes in front of me and leans down until we’re at eye-level, breathing heavily. I can smell smoke on him, and something else too: maybe cologne, maybe soap, maybe aftershave, maybe just the scent of a man in his prime. His lips are pink and full and soft-looking, I notice, as if for the first time. His cheeks are irritated and red from the wind; the ruthlessness of the climate here doesn’t agree with him. It is the only way in which I am stronger than he is. His green eyes are wide and blazing. “Get. In. The. Cart.”

“No,” I whisper, tears all over my face.

“You can’t just run off like that,” he pleads, less angry now. “Where are you going to go? There’s nothing out here except trees and…I don’t know…probably bears and wolves and maybe even Siberian tigers. You can’t get ripped apart by wild animals. Don’t you want to make it to London? To argue for your family’s liberation? They could find no fiercer advocate than you, of that I am convinced.”

“How would you possibly protect me from a bear?”

Ben unbuttons his coat and pulls up his white wool sweater to show me a pistol tucked into the holster clipped to his belt. “Just in case,” he says, smirking crookedly, lowering his sweater again. “Now I am keeping no secrets from you, and you are harboring none from me. We’re even.”

I nod, sniffling, thinking of my jewels and photograph hidden in the steamer trunk. My words are so strained I can barely hear them myself, my hands are trembling; hell, I’m trembling all over. The possibility is unimaginable. “Do you really think they’re going to kill Papa?”

Ben sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t,” he replies gently. “I think the Provisional Government will be able to keep the communists in check for now. I think they will leap at the opportunity to ship the former tsar off to Britain without the potential controversy of a trial and execution. And I also think we should get back in the cart and keep moving now.”

“I’m sorry your boss gave you this assignment and now you have to risk your life for a family that you evidently hate,” I lash out like a cornered animal, hissing and brandishing its glinting claws. “For a grand duchess that you hate. This must be an awful inconvenience for you.”

“It’s rather more complicated than that,” Ben says. “There’s some opportunity in it as well.”

Of course: his leather-bound notebook full of observations, his scrawled recollections to one day build into a famed article about our journey. An article full of what he truly thinks about me. I feel suddenly, violently nauseous. I feel horrified.

What happened to the grand adventure that I imagined? Where did it go?

And all at once, I can’t even remember how I pictured this journey unfolding; I can’t conjure up some rose-colored vision of me and Ben falling into an effortless friendship, flirting lightly and innocently, discovering new corners of the earth together, parting ways in London as lifelong confidants. Now I can only see Papa as he murmurs folktales older than Christianity with candlelight dancing on his smiling face, as he chases me and my sisters around the gardens with outstretched arms and sparkling eyes, as he carries Alexei from one room to the next when my brother’s joints are inflamed and excruciating and useless, as he never unburdens his mind to his wife or children but spends long afternoons chopping wood as the sun sinks into the west and the lines in his pale face grow deeper.

He couldn’t be responsible for bloodshed, for mercilessness. He’s not that kind of man. He’s never been that kind of man.

“We really should keep moving,” Ben prompts.

“Fine,” I fling back as I shove by him. I mop my tears away with the sleeve of my wool sweater, climb into the back of the wooden cart, and sit as far as I can from Ben with my bent knees hugged to my chest. I stare silently off into the forest as the mule drags us towards the Trans-Siberian Railroad, towards Moscow and Saint Petersburg and the Baltic Sea and London, towards the conclusion of this tenuous partnership and the redemption of my family. I am looking forward to soon never having to see Benjamin Hardy again, and yet I’m also not; and this is a difficult paradox to put into words of any language.

We don’t stop until it’s almost dusk. Ben hops down from the cart, leads the mule off the road by her bridle (and gives her an encouraging scratch on the forelock when she hesitates), and begins to set up camp in a small clearing encircled by heaps of frost grass. Dinner is loaves of bread again—even more tough and dry than yesterday—and metallic-tasting water from canteens. Dessert is a hand-rolled cigarette for Ben and a handful of honeyberries I found in the bushes for me. And when Ben grapples with the tent, I come over to help him with it just to prove I can.

Ben builds a fire, and we sit wordlessly on opposite sides of it with the reflections of flames in our eyes. Ben jots down today’s thoughts in his notebook, every so often glancing off into nowhere and tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of his pen, biting his full lower lip absentmindedly as he sifts through the ocean of word in his head to fish out the right one. Meanwhile, I read my copy of Tarzan of the Apes. I stumble across a few English terms I don’t know—quixotic, cartography, constellations, ruminate—but I don’t ask Ben about them.

After a long time, when the moon and stars have emerged bright and ancient in the night sky, Ben closes his notebook and watches me. At first I ignore him. And then, eventually, I can’t anymore.

“What?” I ask irritably, keeping my place in Tarzan of the Apes with my pinky finger, which is nearly numb from the cold.

Ben’s words are calm, restrained, painstakingly chosen. Firelight is fierce and bloody on his face. “I had two infant brothers die of pneumonia, a perfectly preventable illness had they had access to good doctors and proper nutrition and a warm dry home, which they did not. I had a sister die in childbirth because there was no midwife available to attend to her. I have had friends come home from the war with limbs or half their faces missing, a fate which I myself am spared only because of my employment with Sir Buchanan. You have no idea what the world has been through while you were off playing board games and reading novels in greenhouses and lounging on lakeshores with your idyllic little family. You have no idea what life is like for the rest of us. And perhaps that’s not your fault, and it is unjust of me to resent you for it, and I must learn to temper this wrath I’ve been carrying around in my chest since childhood. But it’s still true.”

He stands, clutching his notebook with hands that are red from the savage Siberian wind, and vanishes into the tent.

[azurevi]

enstars charas with an overworked s/o

First time writing enstars🤡 this took kinda long becz exams but i hope its good ^^ also kinda self indulgent hhh

Characters : natsume, ibara, leo, tatsumi, arashi, keito

Natsume

Natsume watches from the doorway as your head bobs about, hands tapping unrhythmically on the keyboard. You're already falling asleep, yet you still refuse to go to bed. 

Normally he won't interfere with your work, knowing that you're fully capable of making the right decisions, but it's a pain seeing you pushing yourself so hard. 

"Still working?" he steps in, holding a steaming drink in his hands. 

Your head snaps up at his voice, and you nod. It's a project that you've put off for far too long, and of course, you have to suffer the consequences. 

"The deadline is two days later, if I don't finish this section today I probably won't make it in time,"

He sets the mug beside your hand, observing your wandering gaze and disheveled hair which you must've been running your hand through. "I don't think you can finish it, though. You already look worn out."

You raise the mug to your lips and take a sip of whatever it holds. The drink tastes sweet and refreshing in your mouth, and almost instantly your muscles relax. "You aren't any better, you know,"

That's true. Being a nightowl himself, Natsume's words don't really seem all that persuasive. At first you would lecture him about how little he rested, but you gave up eventually. You suppose he's built differently, seeing as he can still perform well after only three hours of sleep. 

"Pretty sure I'm in better condition," he says, pulling a chair beside you and popping down. The wood scraps against the floor, creaking slightly. It's usually a sound that you find unbearable, but you seem to have missed it as you try to continue your work.

"Come here, love," he stretches his arms out, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You raise a brow, contemplating whether you should give in. It won't be a surprise if you fall asleep right away in his arms. 

"But work…" you sigh, tearing your eyes from him. His shoulders drop immediately, a frown forming from the rejection. "You're just gonna leave me hanging? How cruel…"

You know he's just messing with you when he let out a dramatic huff, but somehow his defeated look still tucks at your heartstrings. 

"Fine, fine…" you sigh, sneaking your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck. His chest hums with satisfaction as he digs his fingers into your messy hair, soothing out knots he finds along the way gently. With every stroke you're getting drowsier and drowsier, and you know that you're supposed to be working, but the feeling of his hand running through your locks and the steady rise of his chest convince you to stay. 

You fall asleep almost immediately after you close your eyes. Natsume calls out to you and smiles when he hears your slight snoring instead. It's probably the best to get you to the bed and tug you in, but he decides to stay in his spot for a moment longer and relish your presence. 

Ibara

Ibara knows from experience just how hard it can be to sway you when you’ve made up your mind. That’s why he doesn’t try to sweet talk you or lecture you into sleeping. 

No, if he really wants to get you to listen, he will have to trick you into it. 

Almost like a hunter watching his prey, Ibara leans against the doorway as he tries to come up with a flawless plan for his mission. Several empty cans are littered around the desk and he can already smell the aroma of coffee from so far away. You had your fist in your hair, and every once in a while you had to stretch your muscles awkwardly from the lack of movement.

“Don’t you think you deserve a break?” he walks towards you, peeking over your shoulder at the work you’re struggling with. It’s yet another project for the other units, and you seem to be stuck in a dilemma.

“I don’t feel like sleeping without finishing this,” you say.

“Right, but I think you added an extra 0 here,” he points at the paper you're working on, where the value had been increased tenfold because of your negligence. 

“Oh goodness,” you sigh deeply, immediately erasing the zero. “How amateurish of me,”

Ibara watches as you rub the space between your eyes, trying to soothe the looming headache that was making your work even harder. “It feels like all the muscles in my body died,”

“You’ve been sitting for hours after all,” Ibara suddenly smiles, his eyes diminishing into thin slits. You don’t need to hear anything to know that he’s plotting something behind the smile. “What if I give you a short massage?”

Well… that is unexpected.

“A massage,” you repeat.

“That’s right,”

Now that is interesting. You’ve heard from Hiyori about how good Ibara’s massages are for more times than you can count, and it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. It just keeps slipping your mind. A massage sounds just as appealing as a five star meal right now considering how tired your limbs feel.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine,”

His smile widens even more. “Alright then! Please get onto the bed,”

“You wanna do it on the bed?” you frown. “I’ll fall asleep,”

“It’s not gonna be long,”

This sounds way too risky especially with the amount of work that’s still unfinished, but his grin is unwavering, as if he already knows what your answer will be.

“God, alright,” you admit defeat and throw yourself onto the bed face first. There is a moment of quiet shuffling before Ibara settles himself behind you, making sure he isn't crushing you under his weight. His hands find their way to your back, and start working their magic.

"Normally I would get massage oils, but that'll be for next time," Ibara says in a low voice, as if trying to lull you to sleep. Hiyori was right about his skills -- you don't think you've ever had a massage so satisfying before. Somehow, he just knows where to knead and how much pressure to put. With every passing minute your muscles are getting looser, as is your mind. You almost feel bad experiencing this for free.

You're about to fall asleep when something suddenly jolted your consciousness, like a big slap to your face. You have no idea how long you've been laying down in that hazy state, but you've still got work to do.

"That was the most incredible massage ever but I have to work now…" is what you're trying to say, but the words come out too jumbled and incoherent to be understood. When you try to get up, Ibara presses you back down, insisting that he's not done with the massage yet.

"I'm going to fall asleep for real," you argue weakly as your body slumps back into the mattress. Ibara watches as your words cease and your face loosens up, mouth slightly ajar as you finally indulge yourself to sleep. Maybe you'll be mad at you in the morning, but seeing you rest makes everything worth it.

Leo

This is so, so ridiculous. 

You've been telling Leo to go to bed for the past two hours, but did he listen? Evidently not, seeing as he's clinging to your arm with half-lidded eyes that are failing him every two seconds.

"Just go to sleep first, kay? I still have tons of stuff to do," you flip the pile of complicated documents around, not wanting to spare them another glance. Alas, there isn't much time left before your work is due, and the only way you can think of to tackle this is to keep pushing through no matter how worn out your body feels.

Your head is throbbing and somehow your sight just won't focus. You're pretty sure you're starving too, but you feel no incentive to leave your seat and grab snacks. No, you have to finish your work as soon as possible.

This might've been a lot easier if not for Leo. In the middle of your working he suddenly jolted awake and whined about wanting to cuddle with you. It's no surprise though, considering how often the two of you cling to each other during your sleep, but tonight just doesn't work out.

"Aren't you tired too? I can't sleep without you…" Leo mumbles.

"Pretty sure you're falling asleep as you speak," you say, even though you shouldn't be the one talking right now, not when you're also getting groggy just from his warmth and presence. 

When you turn to look at him, his face is squished against your arm, mouth slightly ajar as he snores. To prevent him from waking up again, you decide to tuck him in.

Which is a big mistake, because just the sight of the bed is enough to knock you out. Also because Leo's not letting go of your arm even in his sleep.

"Come to rest, please…" he mumbles quietly and you sigh. Trying to work when your body is screaming isn't going to do much anyway, you suppose, and you flop yourself onto the mattress with the boy. Leo may be childish at times, but everything he does comes from wishing for your wellbeing. 

Tatsumi

Lying to Tatsumi feels like committing the worst crime ever, but the guilt of going to sleep with your work still unfinished is even greater. 

That explains why you're here under the dim light of the desk lamp against Tatsumi's advice, trying to fight the sleepiness getting to your head as you type away on the keyboard. Just a few more pages and you will go to sleep, you decide, but 'a few more pages' is looking a lot like five essays right now.

You lean back against the chair, throwing your head back. You dare not close your eyes, because you're sure a second longer than an usual blink and you'll be a goner.

"Come on, come on…" you return to the original position, shoulders slumped and eyes squinting as you try to string sentences together. What is usually an easy task has become an impossible mission, and the voice at the back of your head suggesting you to give up isn't any help.

Absorbed in your work, you fail to notice the ruffling of the blanket and the shuffling of slippers behind you. When Tatsumi sets his hands on the back of your chair and calls you, you flinch dramatically.

"Oh," you sigh after calming down. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really," he says. "I thought you agreed to go to sleep,"

You grimace at his words that remind you how you made a false promise with him when all he wanted was for you to take care of yourself. "I know I did, but I couldn't really fall asleep thinking of all this stuff," you gesture vaguely at the screen.

"I don't think you're doing well though," 

As if trying to prove his point, a yawn escaped your lips and tears blurred your vision. "I suppose not,"

He sits back onto the bed, reaching out so that he can hold your hands in his. "It's no use trying to work in your current state, you know? I know that you're feeling stressed out from all the work piling up, but rest is important for your productivity too. And I'd hate to see you overworking yourself," he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's go to bed first, and we'll tackle whatever's on your plate tomorrow, alright?"

He doesn't have to say much to sway you. It's one of his charms anyways -- being able to persuade you without even trying.

Arashi

Arashi glances at the clock. 1am. You've been working at your desk since 8, and she can see that you're already starting to fall asleep.

"Sweetheart? You should go rest," she says softly, resting her arms on your shoulders from behind. This brings your mind back to the present, and you sigh realizing that you've zoned out once again.

"Is this due soon?" Arashi asks.

"Not quite, but I don't want to pile everything up. I'm supposed to finish this part today but so many things happened that hindered my plans," you rub you the corners of your eyes. "And I'm already feeling tired,"

"Then you should probably sleep, right? Lack of sleep can mess your face up easily," she turns to cup your face, professionally observing your skin and missing the blush on your face. "You still look cute, but I'd be really sad if you became a victim of sleep deprivation~"

Her voice sounds light and casual, but you can tell that she's genuinely worried about your health. You pull her into a hug, burying your head in her clothes. She always gives the best hugs, hugs that understands you without having to exchange words, hugs that reassure you and rid you of anything on your mind, that remind you even if the world turned its back on you, you'd still have a home to come to.

"Let's go to bed," you suggest, voice woozy. 

"Sure, but let's do some skincare routine first!"

You always enjoy doing routines with her even though you're never one to pay much attention to yourself. But something about her being close and taking care of your face makes you feel at ease, and with her soft hands working on your cheeks, you quickly fall asleep.

Noticing your dropping head, Arashi lets out a sigh before carrying you in her arms, planting a light kiss on your forehead

"Sweet dreams, my love,"

Keito

When you started dating Keito, Kuro was quite delighted. One because he never believed someone could actually put up with the man, and two because someone can finally keep an eye on his atrocious working schedule.

What he didn't expect though, is that you're just as much of a hard worker as Keito. 

As the night passes, the two of you are still working incessantly. Except from the occasional small talks, there's only the sound of paper and keyboard in the room. The tea he brewed a while ago has already been emptied. You turn to look at the green-haired man, and although you can only see his back, he doesn't seem to be too affected by all this work. Perhaps his monstrous workload back in Yumenosaki Academy has turned him into a machine who doesn't feel tired.

But that can't be true. Surely, overworking a lot doesn't make you immune to it. Keito may not be vocal about how he feels, but he's still a human, and he's bound to feel tired,

The tapping sound on his end pauses abruptly as he turns to you, only to meet your observing eyes. This startles him a bit, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You should go rest-" he glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. "-it's already so late,"

"You're one to talk," you retort.

"I can still function without sleeping, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard,"

There it is again. He never seems to acknowledge his own weaknesses, only paying attention to others as he hides his feelings inside the myriad of work thrown at him each day. 

"No one can 'function without sleeping', Keito. You're not a superman,"

"..." 

Keito's shoulders are still tense, but he seems to be deep in thought as he isn't working on the computer either. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and resumes typing. Perhaps he's reminded of his responsibilities, of the various roles that he plays, and how he can't afford to let anyone down.

As always, it's hard to move Keito. You brush it off and turn back to your work. 

It isn't until Keito stands up to get himself a new mug of tea that he realizes how drained you look. Your eyelids are drooping and even from far away he can notice errors on the computer screen. Your figure is slouched, leaning towards the table like you just want to fall asleep right there but can't.

"You should really go to bed," Keito walks to you, hand resting on the chair's rail. 

"Are you going to come with me?"

"What?"

"Are you going to come to bed with me?" you repeat.

"I still have work,"

"Then I'm not gonna rest yet,"

Keito raises his brows. "Are you threatening me with your own health?"

"If this is what I need to do for you to rest, then so be it,"

Silence fills the room. He watches as you tap away on the keyboard, re-typing every once in a while because your fingers just can't seem to find the keys. It's almost painful to watch.

"How incorrigible," Keito sighs. "Alright. Let's go,"

You jump to your feet immediately, dragging him to the bedroom. "No sneaking out after I fall asleep, okay? You have to rest for real,"

"Fine," Keito grunts.

The moment his head falls onto the pillow, he swears he can slip into dreamland right away. You throw your arm across his torso and he instinctively rests his head atop yours, listening as your breathing becomes more and more calm.

The both of you may be hopeless cases, but you always find a way to hold each other up.

[alfredosauce50]

Ghost of jealousy [Possessive! America x reader]

Wordcount: 5,545 Synopsis: Alfred gets upset when he finds you hanging around Mathias during his Halloween party. You tell him he’s your friend, but everything escalates into an argument, so he takes it outside to his car. He regrets everything he’s done, but you refuse to talk to him while he drives off to find some lodging for the night—an old inn. While you avoid him by staying in a separate room, it becomes apparent there’s something very off about this place. Something otherworldly. Will he make it up to you by saving you before something terrible happens? 

(I was inspired by this song by Michael Jackson, “Ghosts”) The reader is referred to as she/her.

It didn’t bother you that Alfred always disappeared during his parties. He was the host, after all, and you were merely another attendee, boyfriend or not. There were guests to interact with, excitement to arouse, and the general gist of event-running. So while he was off doing his business, you loitered around in the kitchen with one of your friends. You were dressed as a mermaid, with a seashell bra and all, while Mathias was in his pirate get-up.

Here away from the incessant pounding of Halloween classics and chatter, you could actually hear him talk. "I think it’s cute that we’re matching! Are you sure you didn’t wear this on purpose just so we could look like a couple?" He grinned, earning a small gasp from you.

"Hey! It’s not my problem you wear the same thing every year, Mathias. I—on the other hand, change it up." You gloated a little at that, giving his hip a light bump. He had been sipping a cup of punch, but spilled some as a result. "Ah! Jeez.” Because it was so dark, with only jack-o-lanterns and fairy lights to illuminate the house, you never even realized.

"What’s wrong?”

"Why don’t you smell my coat to find out?” He hummed mischievously. Cupping a hand around your head, he pulled you in and pressed your face against a mysterious wet patch.

"Ew! What was that?!" You pulled away and rubbed your cheek as he exploded into a fit of laughter.

"... Juice?"

"That’s right, min prinsesse. And it’s all your fault." Leaning in with his hands on his hips, he tapped your nose. A dash of guilt was present in your eyes, so he quickly added this. "Don’t look so stressed, (F/N)! I always forgive what you do to me. Mostly. This time, if you wanna make up for it, you’ll have to go to our after-party for once!"

You blinked. "After-party? You mean with just you and Lukas and everyone?" He nodded excitedly. The question was innocent enough, but really, you had another concern in the back of your mind. Every year, you and Alfred would spend a night together after the festivities. You could only imagine how upset he’d get if that didn’t happen. He always valued the time together with you, even to the point of being a little excessive. "Mm... I don’t know. Alfred and I usually do something afterward. I’ll ask him."

His wide grin faltered a touch. Alfred this, Alfred that. Mathias couldn’t exactly say he was jealous—though he’d joke about it, a lot—but wasn’t he a little controlling sometimes? "Mm, mm. Not good enough. I won’t take no for an answer!" Scooping you up in a bridal style carry, you let out a small yelp and reached out for his neck to stabilize yourself. "Let the King of Scandinavia save you from the evil clutches of American capitalism!"

"Mathias, you idiot!" You hissed through a flustered expression, but you couldn’t deny you were enjoying yourself. While he laughed away, bouncing you in his arms, you bonked him on the head numerous times. "Put. Me. Down!"

"Ow. Ah! Okay, okay, stop hitting me!" The Dane was as big of a goofball as your boyfriend, but just less serious most of the time. That was right. As your relationship with Alfred progressed, he was less easy-going than he initially seemed. More stubborn. Argumentative. And you never imagined how soon you would see this side of him.

"What’s this about saving (F/N) from the evil clutches of American capitalism?"

The chorus of you and Mathias’s laughter came to an abrupt end. Uh oh. Turning to the voice, you found yourself staring at none other than your boyfriend, dressed in a long orange coat with a Jason Vorhee's mask on the side of his head. And his arms were crossed with an unamused expression. Only then did you feel yourself get set down to the floor. Great. "Alfred, hey! We were just talking about his after-party. You know, the one where they have a lego-building contest?"

"Mhm. Sounds fun. But we’re doing something even better." Reaching out to your hand, he pulled you away from your friend, much to your displeasure. Mathias didn’t look all too happy either. Alfred then managed a small smile, but it was a little strained. "So c’mon, babe. Most of the party’s events are ending, anyway. Let’s go to my car." He squeezed you in his grip and turned to leave, all with you in tow.

But you weren’t having it. Couldn’t he at least let you explain yourself a little better, considering how upset he seemed already? You stopped, the action pulling on his arm so he would too. "Wait, Al. He asked if I wanted to go, and I kinda want to. Just this one time, please? Lukas, Berwald, Tino, and Emil are gonna be there too—" The fact that you were listing all these names only made it blatantly obvious who was in right, and who was in the wrong.

All you were asking for was some time with your friends. But he played the jealous boyfriend role all too well.

He turned to you with a frown. It was annoying enough to see Mathias carrying you like that. But going to a sleepover with him? He couldn’t be any less enthusiastic. "No, (F/N). Halloween is our thing. We’re supposed to spend the night together like we always do." Reaching out to your cheek, he caressed it gently. "You can hang out with them any other day of the year. Just not today."

Unlike other times, you didn’t give in. He already showed up with an attitude, so sweet-talking wasn’t going to cut it. Especially when you felt Mathias’s hand on your shoulder. The thought that he was behind you and trying to calm you down only egged you on to stand your ground. "Any other day? You’d have to exclude Valentine’s Day, Christmas, New Year’s, and St. Patty’s as well. I never get to celebrate them with my friends, either, so can’t you let me go this one time?"

The room fell silent. Even with the Dane’s friends present, nobody spoke a word. And nobody had to because they all shared one thought.

Alfred was being way too controlling.

Almost as if he could read their minds, he felt himself crumble under their scrutiny. "I’m not talking about this here with you." Without another word, he pulled you out of the house against your will.

"And why not? Is it because Mathias is here?" You retorted, feeling bile rise in your throat.

Once you and he disappeared out the door, Lukas made a brief comment.

"... He really has to stop doing that." 

“Yep. Man, I wish he’d just step on a lego." The blonde heaved out a sigh. 

"Fair enough."

Once Alfred managed to get you outside his car, he turned to you to finally give you an answer. "And what if it is because he’s there, (F/N)?" He exasperated, already feeling his tongue start slipping now that he was alone with you. And his words only held more impact against the deafening silence of the night. "The reason why I don’t want you hanging out with them on special occasions is cuz’ he’s in the group.”

“Why? Do you hate him or something? But that’s got nothing to do with me!" You ripped your hand from his grip to see his eyes widen with shock. This was the first time you ever lashed out, so he could already feel the inklings of regret well in his chest. He should’ve just shut his trap and let you go.

But something told him he would’ve never let that happen.

"They’re my friends, Alfred! You can’t expect me to pass on every invite they give me just because you don’t like someone!"

He dug his hands through his sandy locks of hair stressfully. 

"That’s the thing! Mathias obviously doesn’t just wanna be friends with you! He likes you, I can tell!" He yelled. 

The cat was finally out of the bag now. What had been plaguing his mind for months was this—competition. And he hoped that admitting it would somehow get you to understand his behavior, no matter how uncalled for it had been.

But you didn’t. You refused to.

Your jaw dropped, but not out of surprise. Instead, it was pure disappointment. "Even if he did, are you saying you don’t trust me with him?" You scoffed, folding your arms at him.

At this point, Alfred knew how bad he fucked up.

"No, that’s not what I—" His brows knitted together, and his cerulean blue eyes welled with moisture. "I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just..." But it was.

Wasn’t it?

Otherwise, why else was he so possessive of you?

"It’s exactly what you meant. If it wasn’t, you’d be defending yourself by now." A small smile curled up at your lips, and it was from anything but mirth. It was your defense mechanism to keep the waterworks at bay, but even that had failed you. The tears finally came spilling over the rim, streaming down your face as he watched on with guilt.

"Even if you hate him, he’s not what you think he is. It wouldn’t matter if he loved me. He wouldn’t do anything because he respects me." Reaching up to your eyes, you rubbed them, but the effort was in vain as you let out a sob. "If you’re so quick to doubt me, then maybe..." You struggled to string together the words as you continued to cry. "Maybe we shouldn’t..."

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore. 

Alfred froze. Anything but that. And yet, you had all the right in the world to think of ending things. But his heart couldn’t take it.

"No, no, no... Don’t you finish that sentence..." You would probably hate him after this, but kissing you was what he first thought of. The connection between his and your lips managed to silence you, and the close proximity let you feel the waves of heat radiating from his face. And he continued to kiss you, gently, for as long as you let him until you decided to shove him away.

"Don’t." You whispered faintly, albeit firmly. Leaving his side to get into the passenger seat of his car, you buckled yourself up and turned to the window.

He breathed out a sigh, but joined you in the driver’s seat. Facing you with remorse so deep, it made his eyes droop. "You know I love you, right?"

You were still crying, and you never spared him so little as a single glance.

He royally screwed up, for sure. 

The engine purred to life. Now, to find a place to stay for the night. Hopefully, he could make up with you before lights out. But his gut told him it wouldn’t be so simple. The car began to move, crushing sticks and leaves under the wheels as he drove on a dirt path deep in the woods. He picked this cabin for the ominous ambiance, but he was beginning to regret his choices. The same could be said for everything he did tonight, hell, the same could be said for how he acted all these months.

He was the jealous, insecure, shitty boyfriend.

And the whole time, he never realized how kind you were to put up with him.

He wanted to tell you he trusted you. To pull you into his arms and apologize a million times. But what could he say to convince you when he’d come off as a liar? Even he didn’t know if he could be honest. Why did Mathias’s presence get him to feel like this, anyway? He boiled it down to how similar he was to him. Like you always said, he and Mathias were two of the same person. Loud, fun, and obnoxious sweethearts. So of course he started comparing himself to him.

And he was doing it right now. He couldn’t imagine Mathias ever having these kinds of problems if he dated you. Fuck. Aside from self-loathing and bitter regret, he was beginning to feel the beginnings of ugly jealousy all over again.

Are you serious right now, Alfred? He thought. 

Narrowing his eyes on the road that seemed to disappear, he slowed to a stop. Was it just him losing concentration over these thoughts, or did he really lose his way? Perhaps. But at least he found something. He peered around his windshield to see a few rooftops resembling an old, vintage villa in the distance. Could that possibly be a motel?

He sped up and drove closer and closer until he reached a clearing. Climbing out of his car with you trailing close behind, he made his way to the entrance of the establishment. There was an open lawn in front of the building, and in one of the gardens stood a wooden sign with "The Aura Inn" inscribed into it. Neither of you thought much of it, let alone read the little sub-paragraph of text below it.

"Let’s go." Looking at you over his shoulder, he held out a hand for you to take. You just brushed past him and kept walking. Right. He forgot for a second that you were mad at him.

The only thing that concerned you was having somewhere to stay the night, so the reception was the first stop. Making up with him could come later.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by nothing but an empty room. There was no furniture besides a wooden counter, and even then, it was lacking quite a few amenities. There was no receptionist here either, and yet, the lights were on. That could only mean one thing. Somebody was here, just not in a way you liked. But you were just overthinking, weren’t you? Needless to say, this inn was starting to feel a little off to you.

Gripping the scales of your mermaid dress, you turned to Alfred with a nervous glance. Immediately, he responded with a reassuring smile.

"You okay, babe?"

Hold on. Did he just call you babe? Your mood went sour when you felt yourself nearly give in to him. What he did couldn’t be forgiven so easily, otherwise, how could he take your feelings seriously? So you forced yourself to lie.

"Yes." You murmured. "I’m perfectly fine."

He knew you were lying, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Okay. I’ll just... Get us a room. I think this is an Airbnb." He pulled out his phone.

The thought of sleeping in the same bed as him irked you, to say the least. After the stunt he pulled today, which effectively stopped you from going to Mathias’s after-party, you needed some space. That was right. How come after all these years, you’ve never been to one of his infamous after-parties? Even though you were a close friend of his? It was simple. Because Alfred never let you go. God, thinking about it just made you relive the anger all over again. 

So before he finished the booking, you reached out for his arm.

"Wait. I don’t want to be in the same room as you."

He paused, and you saw sadness flash in his eyes. And once again, you found yourself tempted to cave. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"... Oh. Sure." Alfred finished with the online forms and walked you to your room. The halls were long, winding, and dimly-lit. You would’ve thanked him for accompanying you in this unsettling place, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Once you managed to open the door, which wasn’t locked, he gave you a reluctant goodbye. Resting his arms against the doorframe, he gazed down at you with a bittersweet smile. "Night, babe. I’ll see you in the morning—"

The door slammed in his face and he cringed.

"... Love you too." He murmured, clenching his fists against the door. This was by far the worst argument he’s ever had with you, and it was all his fault.

Pressing your back against the door, you felt blood rush up to your face after hearing what he said. He nearly had you. But you managed to seal yourself away in the safety of your room. It hurt to push him away, but you had to. He couldn’t keep having his way. Alfred needed to accept the consequences of his actions, and you needed to be strong enough for that to happen. 

And plus, he needed to get used to not having you around him all the time. But the boy was excessively clingy, and you let this carry on for far too long. 

Unpacking your things on the bed, you got your things ready for a shower. As you melted into the hot embrace of the water, your concerns of this inn melted away too. It was just Halloween jitters, wasn’t it? Turning off the faucet, you dried yourself off with a towel before getting dressed. When you exited the bathroom, your room was plunged into almost pitch-black darkness. But you never turned off the lights.

Perhaps this was an energy-saving function. 

Well, it saved you from the effort of going to the light switch, anyhow. 

Before you moved from your spot, you shuddered at the feeling of a cold draft blowing against your body. Looking over to the source, you were shocked to see that the door was wide open, letting the dim halls stare back at you. 

There was probably a little wind tonight, and somehow, you didn’t shut the door properly. Making your way to close it again, you made sure you heard a little click. When you did, you didn’t feel any wind from outside at all, not even a gentle breeze. 

Weird. 

Setting your things down on the bedside table, you climbed into bed and tucked yourself in. While you made yourself comfortable, you faced the entirety of the room, which had a small wall-mounted TV, rocking chair, and desk. Of course there was a rocking chair. And you somehow couldn’t tear your gaze away from its faint outline in the dark. 

Then, it began to rock. 

Forwards and backward as if an invisible entity was sitting in it. 

“!” Your blood ran cold and you buried your head underneath the blanket. Something was in the room with you. Unlike before, you couldn’t blame it on the wind because you just closed the door. As you came to terms with that reality, the icy hands of fear gripped around your heart. Your breathing grew ragged and uneven. There was something behind you. Someone behind you. 

You could practically feel their presence creeping towards you. Closer and closer to your bed as the carpet compressed under its footsteps. Your chest constricted when you felt the bed dip under a weight. 

Then, it began to crawl. 

But you were too terrified to scream, let alone move. 

In that moment, you never regretted your decisions this much in your life. And you never wished more for Alfred to be with you.  

Unbeknownst to him as he finished up with his own shower in his room, you were left paralyzed in bed. If he’d known what was happening, he would have run to you as fast as he could. But he didn’t. He only assumed you were busy brooding over him, and maybe even second-guessing your relationship with him. The thought was reasonable, and that upset him to no end. Throwing his towel to a random spot in the room, he fell on his back onto the bed. 

Reaching out to the ceiling to stare at his arm, he sighed. 

“I’m so sorry...” He murmured, lowering his hands to cover his face with them.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to make up with you by the end of tomorrow. But for now, he was burdened with uncertainty. But his attention was quickly diverted to something else. A laugh. Your laugh. Sitting up with visible confusion, he listened in to the muffled sounds of your voice down the hall. 

The walls here were thin, so it didn’t surprise him he could hear you so clearly. 

But what did was what he heard next. Another voice talking, and it belonged to a boy. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he registered it as someone he knew. Mathias. Wait a second, what the hell was he doing here? But there was no way he could be, right? Didn’t he have an after-party to be at? The longer he eavesdropped on the conversation, the more obvious it became that it was Mathias. And they were talking about him. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come this year. Again. But you know how Alfred gets.”

“Yeah... Don’t worry about it. This can be our own little after-party. Just as long as he doesn’t find out, you’ll be fine!” 

Wait, what? 

From what he heard, it sounded like you really had moved on. But you never had the decency to tell him, and that was what filled him to the brim with betrayal--it broke his heart. Was this why you wanted to be in a separate room tonight? Sliding himself off the bed, he stormed out the door to find you. His glasses were already fogging up, but he never bothered to clear them as he marched down the empty halls. 

Your voices grew louder and louder, all until he came to a stop outside a room he never booked. That was right. He applied for one with a single bed. He could only imagine what you were doing with Mathias in a room with a double bed. 

The laughing continued behind the door. 

“You know these walls are thin, right?” He began lowly. Swinging open the door, the noises disappeared along with the people inside. The room was completely dark, and when he flicked on the lights, you and Mathias were nowhere in sight. Not a soul was in here. 

“... What the fuck.” He grumbled.

He swore he heard you both giggling away like school children. Did you two hear him coming and hide somewhere? He was skeptical, but he checked around nonetheless. In the wardrobe, then under the bed. There was no sign of either of you. The shower, maybe? Stepping into the bathroom and pulling open the curtains, he was prepared to catch you red-handed. But there was nothing there except for a porcelain white tub.  A defeated sigh fell from his lips. What the hell was going on? Alfred was completely sober, a miracle considering he usually drank at his parties. So he had a terrible feeling he wasn’t just hearing things. That only pointed towards one explanation. 

This inn was totally haunted. 

And whoever, or whatever that haunted it was toying with him.

He swallowed thickly and turned to the mirror, only to jump at what he saw. The reflection revealed a figure standing behind him. 

It was Mathias, except his face was twisted in a sick smile. 

“Holy shit--!” Alfred paled as he stared face to face with the entity. As he lost himself in its soulless, blue eyes, he was overcome with dread, almost as if the spirit was forcing fear into him. Reminding him of his failures, insecurities, and the uncertainty of his relationship. All of his faults flashed in his mind again and again so incessantly, he thought he would break down on the spot. 

Where is (F/N)? 

She doesn’t want you anymore. 

You should just give up. 

And the deeper in he spiraled into these self-destructive thoughts, the wider the entity smiled, its lips stretching to impossible lengths it became grotesque. Darting his wide eyes around the reflection in his bout of panic, he saw its hand reach out to his shoulder in the mirror. He didn’t know how he managed to do this, but he spun around quickly to defend himself. And there was nobody there.

In his brief moment of disorientation, the spirit shot out two arms, breaking the barrier of the glass. Tightening its hands around his neck, Alfred was pulled back against the mirror and choked. “Gh--!” His airway was completely constricted by the iron grip, and he was forced to struggle a few inches above the ground. 

Digging his fingernails into the hands, he never felt them loosen. 

So he did the unthinkable--he started to smash his fist against the mirror. It hurt like hell and left his knuckles bruised and raw, but the thought of you in danger kept him going. That was right. There was no saying if you weren’t being choked, attacked, or worst. Punching the glass again and again, it finally shattered, and the grip around his neck loosened. 

The mirror was reduced to shards and fell into the sink.

Falling to the ground in a loud thump, he stood up while coughing violently. 

The arms disappeared, and so did the entity. 

And Alfred had a feeling it had to do with the mirror it was in. 

Leaving the bathroom with heavy breaths, he ran back to his room and picked up his chainsaw. Halloween had the perks of carrying around dangerous tools, and he was never this glad that he took it with him instead of leaving it in his car unattended. Too bad he was out of costume, though. But a white tank and boxers would do. Holding it above his chest, he revved his chainsaw and ran out the door. 

It was time to fuck shit up. 

You were still stuck in bed, but the spirit managed to remove your blanket. A soft whimper fell from your lips as your only form of protection was stripped away. If you thought you were terrified, then you would prove yourself wrong with a whole new level of fear as two arms wrapped around your neck from behind. No way. Was it going to choke you? One of its legs was thrown over yours, so you were completely enveloped by its limbs. 

As you trembled away in the dark, you let out a soft cry when you felt its warm breath tickle your ear. 

“I missed you. Why didn’t you wanna stay in a room with me?” It cooed, the voice sending shivers down your spine. It sounded strangely similar to Alfred’s, and what he said was exactly what he would’ve said too, except it wasn’t him. You never saw him come in, and the last time you checked, he wasn’t invisible. 

“... W-What... What are you?” You stammered, feeling a hand glide down your bare thigh. “Stop--” 

“I’m his desire, sweetheart.” It began in a low and alluring voice. “Every feeling in the Aura inn festers into a semi-physical form. That’s why I’m here right now. Because he wants you.” 

You screwed your eyes shut. Just what the hell kind of place was this inn? A magical hut that personified emotions? “... Can you please let me go? I don’t like the way how you’re... Hugging me.” You pleaded, only to feel the entity tighten itself around you. 

“But I don’t want to. He doesn’t want to.” It responded with a hum. “I reflect everything he wants. And currently, he wants to see you more than anything. Especially when he’s dealing with jealousy... And having a hard time at that.” 

“Jealousy?” It wasn’t shocking, per se, but he had you curious. If desire festered into a sultry form of someone and hugged their object of affections, what did jealousy turn into?  “... I knew he was jealous of Mathias. But that’s not the problem here. We’ll sort it out later. If you’re desire, then what’s jealousy like?” 

It let out a deep, foreboding laugh. “Depends. If it’s only a little bit of envy, he’ll start hearing things that hit his nerves. Nothing but... Harmless fun.” You felt yourself get rolled onto your back, and you were caught off guard by what loomed over you. It was Alfred himself, or more accurately put, his personified desire, but this time, you could see him. “But if his jealousy gets mixed in with insecurity, that’s when things get pretty ugly...” 

You furrowed your brows with concern. “Ugly? How so? Is he gonna be okay?” 

It craned his head from side to side. “Who knows.” 

“But I’ll tell you a few things that I do know. Jealousy tends to be pretty sneaky. It’ll snoop around in mirrors and attack him.” You tensed up all over. “So Alfred will have to smash every mirror in the inn to get it to come out. And when it does, all he needs to do is be with you to send it away.”

Loud chainsaw noises were heard down the halls, silencing both you and the entity. Following that was the shattering of glass. 

“... Hm. Looks like he already figured it out.” 

Joy filled you to the brim and you smiled wide. “He really did! I’m so glad!” Reaching out to hug the entity around its chest, you pulled away and slid yourself off the bed. 

“Thank you, um, Alfred’s desire! I’m gonna go find him now!” 

He laid on his side and watched you run off. “You can just call me Alfred.” 

“Okay, Alfred!” 

While you exited the room to stand in the halls, you found yourself staring at a number of doors that were wide open, and the lights on inside. You assumed those were the rooms he already cleared, which meant he still had quite a bit to do. But he was fast. Appearing out of one room, he continued tearing down door after door to smash every single mirror and window in the inn. And soon, he managed to reduce every piece of glass present into shards. 

Once the chainsaw revs came to a stop, you called out his name. 

“Alfred!” 

He jerked up at the sound, then glanced around. “(F/N)!?” While he was on the first floor in the courtyard, you were on the second in the mezzanine, so he had to glance up to see you. “Oh God, I was so worried! Are you okay?” He shouted. 

“Yes!” You called back. “This place is... Super haunted. Let’s get out of here!”

“You called it. I nearly got murdered!” 

Running down the stairs to meet with him, you practically jumped onto him after he dropped his chainsaw to the ground. Embracing you with his strong arms, he pressed kiss after kiss all over your face. While he did, you spotted another figure standing by the stairs. Was that Mathias? You couldn’t take a better look at him before he disappeared into thin air. “Oh my fucking god. I missed you so much.” He exasperated, setting you down on your feet. “You won’t believe what happened. I’ll explain everything in the car.”

As he led you out of the Godforsaken inn, he gripped you tight with his hand. And you squeezed right back. “Let me guess. You were attacked by something in the mirror so you shattered every single one here. I know.” 

At this point, you and him had arrived outside his car.

Turning to you with shock, he placed his hands on his hips. 

“And how the hell did you know? I thought it was original enough that you wouldn’t be able to guess!” He exclaimed, much to your amusement. 

“Mm... Not really. With how many horror movies you’ve watched, I wouldn’t put it past you to come up with a solution like that.” Giving him an affectionate pinch on the cheek, he rubbed the spot with a light pout. You considered telling him the truth, but you already wanted to forget tonight. If he didn’t know about it, then moving on yourself would be so much easier. 

“Now, I think you have some apologizing to do.” 

He softened his gaze. “Yeah... I really do. Sorry for everything. Sorry for being a dick. And not just... For today.” Pulling you into another hug, he nestled his chin into your shoulder. God, did it feel good to have you in his arms again. “I’m gonna be real. I never hated Mathias. He’s my friend. But seeing him with you gets me... Really jealous. And it’s not cuz’ I don’t trust you, it’s because I’m...” His cheeks grew rosy. “I don’t know. I just feel...”

You knew he’d get stuck at this part, so you helped him. 

“Because you feel insecure?” 

“... Yeah.” 

“You idiot...” A soft, content sigh was heard from your end. “It doesn’t matter how similar you are to him. You don’t have to try to make any changes or keep him away from me for me to choose you.” 

His heart fluttered as he released you with a sheepish smile. 

“I really needed to hear that. So, thanks.” Alfred murmured, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Kinda lame of me to put you through that. I should’ve just talked it out with you.” 

“Yeah, you dumbass.” You grumbled, but it was on an affectionate note. 

“So, do you think we’ll make it in time to the party for me to carpool with Mathias back to his place? I wanna see what they’re building this year!”

He frowned, but his expression was short-lived as a smile began creeping onto his lips. “Are you serious right now?” 

“I’m kidding!” 

🎶 Tell me, are you the ghost of jealousy?

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

[cthulhuliet]

Scotty Doesn't Know

6.8k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, internalized homophobia, cheating

Light Yagami is the epitome of perfection: honor student, a popular kid, and an attentive boyfriend. But if L had learned one thing it is that pretty boys always lie, and he was about to be caught in a web of Light's biggest ones.

During his time at To-Oh university, L has learned 3 things. 1) never eat the spring onions in the dining hall. 2) people will like you if you carry gum and pencils in your bag. 3) pretty boys always lie.

That last one was a recent development though, something he added to his social checklist as his dark eyes stared back into Light Yagami pretty brown ones, specks of red flickering in the low light.

It was the first party L had ever been to. He didn’t stick out, but he was not exactly blending in. His bare feet dug into the plush carpeting at Misa Amane’s apartment. She was the one who invited him.

He would exactly call Misa and himself friends , just someone whom he was friendly towards. L did not do friends. Keeping people at arm's length-- staying alone-- that is how he stayed alive. It is a system he is not intending to change simply because a pretty girl treated him kindly and kissed him on the cheek when he agreed to come to her Friday night get-together. Though, L would be lying if the thought didn’t cross his mind.

L was not focused on Misa at the moment. L was staring back at the pretty boy who Misa was hanging off of, who had girls laughing even though he said nothing funny. Who commanded the attention of the whole room when he spoke, even though he really wasn’t saying anything at all, his words holding no real substance.

L first noticed Light in his forensics lectures. The boy always seemed to have a crowd around him, always seemed to impress his professors, and always seemed to have all the answers. It seemed as though no one could even bring themselves to hate him for it either, like most do with popular kids their age-- how could they when he was just so charming and pretty and so damn bright ?

He took it upon himself to observe Light (purely for curiosity's sake), watching the way he walks across campus, always studying under the same bench with just enough shade to be comfortable, how he politely listens as his girlfriend talks about photoshoot and modelling drama-- and L believed him to be just that. Just a hard working college student, a popular guy and an attentive boyfriend.

Though, staring back at Light, looking into his eyes, he sees the optical illusion that is Light Yagami. Taking him in at face value is easy-- it paints an attractive picture of the popular honors-student who seems to have his life all figured out. However, the thing about optical illusions is that one step back, one ripple or one tear in the picture ruins it and you see the image for what it is: a disconnected, imperceptible fantasy. That is what L saw in Light Yagami when he finally caught that pretty boy in a lie.

“I have no interest in doing anything with Ryuzaki,” Light shrugged; pretty, pretty brown eyes twinkling under the string lights around Misa’s apartment, “ ‘7 minutes in heaven’ would be more like ‘7 boring minutes spent in a closet’,” The group around him chuckled at his attempt at a joke. L is sure Light could be funny if he tried.

“Of course,” L hooked a finger into his mouth, “Besides, Light is not interested in men anyway, so what is the harm.”

Light’s eyes flashed with someone unknown, something scared, before nodding and standing up, “Exactly,” He kissed Misa on the cheek, and looked back at L before walking to the other side of the apartment. Misa gave L a once-over as he stood up, before softly sighing, pushing him toward the large broom closet, promptly shoving them in and closing the door.

The silence that followed in the closet was not exactly awkward or uncomfortable, but there was a lot unspoken that needed to be said. That optical illusion was wavering-- the edges becoming frayed as Light slowly breathed. Although L couldn’t really see it, he could feel Light’s eyes staring back at his silhouette.

“Misa and I have been dating for almost 2 years now,” Light opened with. It was only then that L realised this was their first one on one interaction.

“Congratulations.”

“You transferred here pretty recently, so you probably didn’t know that.”

“I did not.”

The two stood next to one another in silence for a while.

“I am not gay, you know.”

L blinked, “I didn’t think you were. You do have a girlfriend after all.”

“Yeah, I do.” More silence, followed by, “Are you gay?” This was a hushed whisper, rushed and nervous, like even talking about those homosexuals your mother warned you about was forbidden.

“What?”

“I know you heard me.”

L sighed, “I wouldn’t say that. Personally I have no preference. Men, women, whatever, it is all the same to me.”

“I see.”

More silence. L didn’t really know what to say, but luckily he didn’t have to think of anything, as Light stepped forward, cupping L’s cheeks and kissing him.

L was not sure how to react at first. His mind raced, wondering what the morality of messing around with a man who is clearly confused about his own identity is, and also breaking the trust of one of his colleagues, not to mention the ethics of cheating in of itself. But also Light’s lips tasted like the apple cinnamon chapstick he always carries with him, and he is pressing his chest against L’s and running his hands underneath his shirt, and it feels too damn good to stop.

L wrapped his arms around Light’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer and nipping his bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip forward into Light’s mouth. Light gasped at the action, whimpering and digging his nails into L’s hips. He knew that Light’s perfectly manicured nails would leave half-moon indents that were deep enough to last until the morning. This made L smile.

He kissed Light’s cheek and then kissed all the way down his jaw. L peppered kisses along Light’s neck, the other man gasping and biting his knuckle. L moved his hands under Light’s shirt, and ran his fingernails down his back, Light harshly biting his hand to stifle a guttural moan.

L pulled away, and he could see Light’s eyes at this distance. He expected him to look confused, or ashamed, or angry, but he mostly just looked horny.

“The others are going to come get us soon.” L explained in a low voice. Light nodded, and began fixing his hair, breathing steadily to remove the flushness on his face.

“Ryuzaki?”

“Yes?”

“Can this be… Just… Don’t tell anyone about this, ok?” Light’s voice was a bit cold a stiled, and L held back a chuckle.

“Of course, Light.”

≠

Lately, L has spent most of his free time kissing Light in private. Sometimes at night when everyone had already left the library, sometimes on the roof of the science building,  sometimes in the backseat of L’s car. Light seemed to really like kissing in the backseat of L’s car. Maybe it was the way the plush velvet seats folded down, or the way the windows were tinted so dark it felt almost illegal to drive, or maybe he liked how L always has shitty 80’s pop playing at a low volume. L wasn’t sure, but it was almost like clockwork to kiss for hours on end in the secluded forested part of the college town.

L was sitting on Light’s lap, the younger man writhing and gasping underneath him, gripping harshly at the back of L’s shirt. A thin sheen of sweat coated Light’s forehead, and L ran his nails up and down Light’s sides as he nipped at his earlobe, making him gasp. L found that Light got easily worked up from even the most subtle of action. He was very sensitive.

L worked at the buttons on the front of Light’s shirt, slowly unclasping them, “Light, have you come to enjoy kissing me?”

“Y-yeah, you’re really good at this, of course I do Ryuzaki.”

L hummed, fully unbuttoning Light’s shirt, but not wanting to take it off him yet. Light looked really good in black. He instead pulled a lever to push the seats down, pressing on Light’s chest to guide him onto his back. L kissed up Light’s chest, restraining himself from biting into the pretty tan skin. L licked a small stripe over Light’s chest, grazing his nipple with his tongue to see his reaction.

Light back arched and he gasped out L’s name, and ran a hand through his hair. L kissed his right nipple and slowly licked the nub, grazing his teeth softly over it, hoping to draw out more gasps and whines from Light.

“What about this, Light?” L asked in a low voice, still teasing him with his thumb and forefinger, smirking up at him.

Light nodded, panting, “Yes, yeah… That feels great.”

“Has Misa ever touched you here?” L asked. He felt Light stiffen, even just for a moment. There was an unspoken agreement that they never brought up Light’s girlfriend, or maybe Light just never expected L to. Light did not respond, so L attached himself to Light’s other nipple, sucking on it while still teasing the other one. Light moaned loudly, now stifling his noises by hooking his fingers in his mouth. L pulled off of Light, a string of saliva dripped from L’s mouth, “Light? Answer me?”

“No, no she hasn’t.”

“Hmm,” L hummed, running his blunt fingernails up and down his sides like he knows he enjoys, “Has any girlfriend ever given you this treatment?” Light bit his lip and shook his head. L nodded, and his fingertips teased the edges of Light’s pants, “Does Light want me to touch him in more places today?”

The two had not done more than kissing and biting with wandering hands. L didn’t mind. He would never describe himself as a patient man but rushing anything like this would surely be heading for disaster. Light looked down at him with wide brown eyes, and the innocence of his gaze almost put the optical illusion back in place for him, but then he remembered where he was: touching and teasing perfect Light Yagami, who is obviously not the person everyone sees. That illusion quickly broke as Light gasped out a “please”, moving his own hands to unzip his jeans.

L slapped his hand away, shaking his head at him. “I am doing this part, do I need to make you keep your hands to yourself?”

There was a dangerous glint in his eye, one that L had not seen before from him. Light hummed, “Hmm, you might. I don’t know.” And this was Light playing rough, not stupid. L did not think Light could be dumb, even if he tried. Internalized shame and heavy amounts of guilt prevented Light from being as much of a tease as he could be, though L knows he is more than capable. Two can play at that.

L moved up Light’s body, capturing his lips with his. He bit down on Light’s bottom lip, causing the younger man to gasp and allowed for L to tangle his tongue with Light’s. Simultaneously, he grabbed Light’s tie and pinned his hands together, doing a simple knot around his wrists above his head.

L pulled away, smirking. Light’s eyes were wide and watery, certainly not expecting L to call his bluff. If Light did have any experience with bondage of any sort, he cannot imagine it was the man himself who was getting tied down and taken care of. The clean-cut honors student types always want to be taken care of, didn’t they? Being in control and in charge of everything in their life, just needing someone else to take the reins for once.

Finally, L was able to undo Light’s pants, pulling them off and throwing them to the front seat. He palmed Light through his boxers, his cock was already fully hard and straining against the fabric. The car was nothing but quiet with Light’s gasps and moans, and L almost let it keep going on, because he is sure that Light’s begging would be simply heavenly.

He pulled Light boxers off, giving them the same treatment as his slacks. Light bit his lip as the cool air hit his cock. L pressed his thumb to his lips and slowly traced a finger up and down his shaft, fingertips barely ghosting over him. Light made an undignified whine and L smirked slightly. Maybe he did want to hear him beg.

"Ryuzaki…” Light said, possibly in an attempt to sound commanding, but his voice was so fucked out it came across as a needy moan.

“Being tied up like this, defiled by another boy… It shouldn’t make you this happy, should it, Light?”

“ Ryuzaki… ”

L teased the head of his cock with his thumb, “What would people think if they saw you like this? With me?” He hummed, Light gasped as L slowly stroked him, “What would your classmates say? Your friends? Misa?” He stressed.

“Oh God…”

L picked up his movements, “Do you think they would be shocked? Horrified? Perfect Light Yagami tangled up in the sheets with Ryuzaki?” He chuckled to himself, Light holding back his moans, “I personally am not surprised. Right now, all I see is a contented slut getting what he deserves.”

“Ryuz- Ryuzaki please , please give me what I deserve... I need it, please …”

And Light’s begging was all it took. L took all of Light in his mouth, deep-throating him and letting the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. It only took a few more seconds before Light was crying out his name and coming down Ryuzaki’s throat.

L pulled off of Light and looked up at him, the other man’s cheeks were flushed and his face completely blissed out. L leaned forward and gave him a brief kiss on the lips, Light returned it happily.

“Hey…” Light started, quietly, “I know you were just saying it… But… You won’t actually…”

L shook his head, “This all stays between us, remember?”

Pretty boys always lie…

≠

L and Light had graduated from messy blowjobs in the back of L’s towncar to L practically folding Light in half and fucking him on the plush sheets in his apartment. L does not exactly know what Light tells Misa if she asks why he is spending almost 5 days a week at L’s apartment, he doesn’t bother, it is not his relationship.

It is not everyday that L pins Light against the mattress right when they get back, now preferring to let things build up slowly. In fact, for the past 6 months they have been doing this, they do their work in silence across L’s dining room table, or sit on the couch and just talk. Talk about their classes, their ideas, their goals. L didn’t think he would ever get tired of listening to Light talk. Just like he did not think he would ever get tired of pressing into Light, hearing the other man moan under him.

L currently had Light’s hands bound to the headboard; his long, athletic legs were hooked over L’s shoulder’s as L slowly pushed deep into Light.

“M-more Ryuzaki… Fuck … more…”

L tsked and shook his head, “My my, Light, where are you manners,” He punctuated his statement with one quick thrust into Light, perfectly hitting his prostate, causing him to cry out and moan, “Ask politely.”

Light writhes under him, thrashing at the headboard which had his hands tied, “Go to hell, Ryuzaki…” He whined.

In response, L yanked his hair, and licked a stripe up Light’s neck. He nibbled on Light’s ear lobe, knowing how much he liked it. He ran his hands up his thighs, and gave him a swift but stinging smack, Light groaning at the harsh contact. L often closed his eyes and imagined how pretty Light would look covered in bruises and love bites-- being able to mark him up and claim Light Yagami as his . It was an attractive picture, one he did his best to keep at a distance. “Don’t make this difficult Light, just ask politely…” Which they both knew was another way of saying ‘beg for it’.

“Go faster Ryuzaki… Please…” Light gasped out, and L snickered, speeding up his thrusts.

“See, now was that so ha-” He was cut off by Light’s phone ringing. L reached into his discarded pants and pulled out his phone, gripping the top of it with his thumb and forefinger, “It is Misa.” He says.

Light groans, shaking his head, “Just let it ring, I will call her back after this.”

A wicked smile spreads across L’s face, looking at the caller id and Light’s hands still tied to the bed. Light cocks an eyebrow.

“I hope you have learned to control your noises, Light.” L tells him. Before he can ask any questions, L flips open the phone and presses talk, holding the phone against Light’s ear.

“Hi sweetie!” Misa’s voice came through over the phone, L close enough to be able to hear her, littering kisses across Light’s collarbone and moving his hips painfully slowly, in and out of Light.

“H-hi baby, how are you doing?” Light panted out, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I am doing good! I am glad you picked up, it has been so long since I heard your voice,” There was a considerable amount of background noise on Misa’s end, a busy shopping mall or possibly a photoshoot set. L took that into consideration, now very pointedly moving, angling his cock to merely brush against Light’s prostate. The younger man was squirming underneath him-- this kind of edging would be punishing enough typically; with his girlfriend on the phone it made it simply torturous.

“Ah- Yeah, sorry I have been so preoccupied lately, I promise I will make time just for us soon.” Light’s voice was obviously stilted and strained, but L was counting on the noises from wherever Misa was to distract from that fact (he is sure Light is counting on that too). L pressed kisses along Light’s neck up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe that wasn’t currently occupied with the phone conversation.

“What exactly has kept you so preoccupied, Light?” L whispered in his ear, knowing how much Light liked the soothing sound of his low voice, “Or more accurately who has been getting your attention?” L could hear Misa talking, but he wasn’t exactly trying to make out what she was saying, “Go on and tell her. Tell her what we have been up to. Tell Misa what a good slut you have been for me, I know how much you like to hear it.”

Light eyes were welling up at praise and degradation dripped over him like honey. The dual sensations of L fucking him and using his one free hand to tease his nipples is enough to have anyone panting. But he had to keep his breathing even, doing his best to not moan as his girlfriend tells him about the modelling shoot she is currently on a short break at. He was relatively stable, that was until L moved his hand lower, teasing the head of his cock, clearly not satisfied with how well the other man was showing restraint. L couldn’t help but smile when Light gasped once he touched him. He could faintly hear Misa pause, asking him what was wrong.

“Oh dear, Light,” L teased, Light was now biting his lip so hard he was fearing he would break the skin, “Are you ready for your girlfriend to finally find out what a filthy fucking whore you are?”

Light shook his head, answering Misa and doing his best to ignore L. “Ah, sorry baby, I just looked at my phone battery, I am going to die soon. J-just text me when you wrap up, ok?”

“Oh, ok! Talk to you later, then, love you sweetie!”

“Y-yeah, you too.” L snapped the phone closed with a ‘clack’ and threw it across the room. Light let out a guttural moan, frustrated tears ran down his cheeks.

“Light? Are you o-”

“Fuck me Ryuzaki, please please, dear Lord I need this.” Light’s voice was broken and needy-- a man who was kept on the edge for far too long.

“I hope I didn’t go too far.” L stood on his knees, lifting Light’s hips up. Previously restraint was gone, L’s hips snapped roughly into Light, he didn’t think that he could hold himself back if he tried.

Light was extremely receptive to the violent pace, gasping and whining, already so far gone.

“ There! Keeping going, fuck … I am so close, please.” Light begged, his eyes screwed shut and he pulled at the restraints, moaning. “What you did was fucking insane, Ryuzaki, but fuck I had never been so turned on in my fucking life.” He gave a weak chuckle, “Maybe I am a filthy slut like you say.”

L nodded, gripping tightly on Light’s hips, only half-worried about his fingertips leaving bruises for later, “It is about time you listened to me, Light.”

“Did I do good?” Light asked. His voice was broken and wrecked, and God, it was so good to listen to. “Was I a good slut, Ryuzaki?”

L nodded, feeling himself getting close as well, “You were a good boy, yes Light, a perfect whore. A perfect fucking slut for me.”

“ Ahh! Yes, fuck yes… A good slut for you, your good slut-- all yours .” Light came with L’s name on his lips, the other man following shortly after. A few chaste kisses followed as they both came down, and L ignored the twisting feeling in his gut.

≠

L hated parties. He hated birthday parties even more. Something about the idea of an adult expecting gifts and attention simply for existing is something that seems childish and trival. Especially when that adult is Misa Amane, who rented out a banquet all for her party. L doesn’t hate Misa, he doesn’t. Though, he couldn’t help the self satisfied smirk that creeped onto his face, coupled with an immoral sense of superiority when Light dragged him away to a secluded pantry on the other side of the venue.

“Mmm, someone is needy,” L muttered, pulling the lapels on Light’s blazer closer to him for a needy kiss, “Glad you are giving the birthday boy special treatment.”

“Shut up.” Light muttered, kissing L like he means it, greedy and desperate.

The two grind against one another, the closed space and limited time not offering as  many options as typical-- it brought back a similar feeling of way back in the early days of their correspondence where they would kiss in the dark stacks of the library; L still trying to figure out what makes Light squirm, and Light still barely comfortable enough to put his hands on L’s waist.

Oh how fast the night changes he thinks idly to himself as Light pulls on his messy waves, exposing the alabaster expanse of his neck and latched himself onto it as he has seen L do many times, though he actually gets to feel Light’s teeth sink into him and admire the purple against white the next day.

L quickly undoes Light’s belt and slacks, pulling them off with his boxers, knowing they only had a limited amount of time before the hostess of the party figures out her “guest of honor” has been missing for several minutes. Following the pants, L drops to his knees, taking Light’s cock in his mouth all at once. Light tangles his hands in L’s hair, slowly but steadily fucking his mouth.

“We have a limited amount of time, you realize?” L pulled away, and Light groaned at the loss of contact.

Light shook his head, “I don’t think anyone is going to come looking for me.”

L slowly stroked him, thumb rubbing over the slit of his head, causing Light to bite his lip through a moan, his back hitting the wall behind him. L looked up at him, eyes impossibly wide, “I think you misjudge how strongly Ms. Amane’s infatuation with you is.”

Light didn’t respond to that, so L took the head of Light’s cock in his mouth, the man biting down on two knuckles to stifle his noises. L knew he was getting close, after almost a year of this affair, L knew exactly what to do to get Light to tremble and squirm and just how far to push until he is over the edge.

His orgasm rips through him, Light gripping tightly onto L’s hair, making him moan around Light’s cock. He wipes his mouth with one of the cocktail napkins placed neatly on the shelves. He gingerly took Light’s hand as he helped him off the floor, pulling L in for another messy kiss.

Light drew his nails down L’s back, now panting into his mouth, but the two quickly jumped apart when they heard the click of heels making their way down the adjacent hall.

“Light? Are you down here?”

The two froze and looked at one another. “Misa,” Light mouthed, and L rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t warn Light of this exact situation previously.

“Come on.” L quickly pulled Light out of the pantry, walking him towards the bathrooms  directly on the other end of the hall before she rounded the corner spotting them, “Tell her you were seeing me off and I had to leave early, and you stopped by the restrooms before you came back. Also…”  He pulled a small wrapped object out of the back of his pocket. It was long but thin, containing a rose gold gemmed bracelet. “It is a bracelet. It will distract her from any questions that she has.”

“Ryuzaki I-”

L shook his head, running a hand under the water of one of the bathroom sinks and fixed Light’s mussed and imperfect hair, “Don’t. I’ll be fine.” This only works if you keep lying. C’mon Light, where is the illusion? “Go. Do what needs to be done.”

L shoved Light out of the bathroom, just in time too, for he ran into his girlfriend. He listened to their idle voices from the bathroom and felt a wave of bittersweet joy from Misa’s elation at the gift. He stayed until their voices disappeared and snuck out the exit near the back. He always did hate birthday parties.

≠

It was around 2am when L heard the knocking on his door. Confused and apprehensive, he opened the door to see a disheveled and tired Light on the other side. His eyes were rimmed red with dark circles underneath them. L wasn’t sure if he had ever seen him in such a state.

“Light? What are you doing here? Are you ok-” L’s concerns were cut off by Light cupping his cheeks and kissing him. Not the passionate and needy type that he is used to, but raw and emotional. He wrapped his arms around L’s neck and held onto him like his lifeline.

L did not disconnect from his lips, instead leading them both to his bed. It was still neatly made (it being essentially unused since the last time Light was over) but he pulled back the duvet and crawled under it, Light following close behind.

L held Light for a long time, running his fingers through his perfect brown hair and offering light kisses. A few rare moments of silence passed, and Light’s breathing became a lot more steady and the touches less needy.

“It is much past the time you are typically asleep. What on Earth are you doing here? This isn’t like you.” L muttered lowly in Light’s ear.

Light huffed, “I apologise for not fitting your perfect honor student archetype.”

“That is not what I mean. I am not talking about perfect, clean-cut college senior Light.”

“Wha- but that is me.”

L shifted slightly, pressing a thumb to his lips, “On the surface, sure. You are the definition of sublimity and much sharper than those around you. Not to say you are not that, but there is much more to it. Despite being one of the top students in Japan, you do not care as much as people think you do, and you obviously have secrets of your own. Do not try to play coy with me, Light, I greatly dislike being belittled.”

Light was silent for a while, tracing nondescript patterns along L’s chest, “I thought that I was the number one student in Japan.”

L stifled a laugh, “One of us here is.”

“I have never even seen your name on the national rankings.”

“You have never seen Ryuzaki on the national rankings. Though I am sure you were around when Hideki Ryuga made an appearance.”

Light was silent for a moment before shaking his head, “I thought for a while now that Ryuzaki was an alias.” L hummed in response squeezing Light softly and pressing a kiss atop his head, “So, what is your true name?”

“I cannot tell you that, Light.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

Light pulled away from L’s arms and sat up, “That isn’t fair. I have been nothing but honest about myself with you, and you can’t share one stupid thing with me?”

“You still don’t get it…” L muttered to himself, sitting up and pulling his legs close to his chest.

“Get what?” Light spat out.

L sighed, “I cannot be fully honest with you until you are honest with yourself.”

Light opened his mouth and closed it again-- a brief moment of confusion before the anger took its place, “What does that mean?”

“What is it you truly desire of me, Light? How long are you going to conform to the expectations you created for yourself.” L’s voice was not angry or frustrated or even disappointed. He just sounded sad, “You are graduating college and Ms. Amane’s career is in full swing now. With how many years you have together she is going to be expecting marriage and a family soon. And then what? How much longer must you keep lying to her, to your family, to-- you know, forget all them. How much longer can you lie to yourself about what you really want? When will your self imposed expectations that you curated supersede who you really are?” Light stayed silent, his body was stiff and his eyes glassy. L sighed, “You may stay here tonight, of course. I will hold you and kiss you and love you tonight. But after that, I need to take your time to think about what exactly you are doing, and talk to me when you figure it out. You’re not the only one who is affected by your actions.”

He left the rest unspoken. Not saying he wanted to hold onto Light forever, finally call him his, and not put an ultimatum on their love. But it was too painful to say the rest out loud.

L held Light and stroked his hair as he fell asleep. L tried to fight off his own exhaustion, but his eyes eventually closed and he drifted off as well. He woke up the next morning cold and in an empty bed.

≠

It has been about three months since L and Light had seen one another. That’s fine. L doesn’t need anyone. Staying alone is how he stays alive. He goes through his school work faster than ever, senior finals quickly approaching for him, though he has no doubt that he could manage without trying. That doesn’t stop him from doing so for whatever reason. He just needs to keep busy.

L was editing an essay when his phone rang, Misa Amane’s contact name appearing. L stared at the phone for several seconds, weighing his options. He eventually snatched the phone and flipped it open, “Yes?” He dumped all the sugar cubes from his bowl onto the table, idly stacking them.

“Hi, Ryuzaki, sorry to call you this late-” L glanced at the clock, just past midnight, “But I was just wondering if Light was with you.”

L paused, and bit his lip, “No, actually. I have not seen Light for about 3 months now.”

There was silence on the other end of the call, L could only hear static on the other end. He made his tower about 6 cubes high before Misa spoke, “3 months? You haven’t heard from him for 3 months? He said he was going to talk to you ages ago. I am worried about him, Ryuzaki.”

“What seems to be your cause for concern?”

Misa sighed, “I broke up with Light about 2 weeks ago,” L knocked over his cube tower, sending sugar crystals careening over his laptop. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing at this point or not, his heart was beating so slowly… Or fast? L couldn’t for the life of him tell, “He said that he was going to talk to you shortly after I ended things, but I hadn’t heard from him or seen from him, and now you have no idea what's going on, and oh God, what if he is dead or killed himself I don-”

“Misa?”

“Yes?”

“Please calm down for me, ok?” L hooked a finger in his mouth, trying to keep his voice level for Misa’s sake, “I am concerned for Light as you are. I just need you to answer me some questions and I should be able to figure out where he may be.”

“You don’t think he is dead?” Misa choked out.

“I say there is only 2.5% Light is dead, and that would be due to forces outside of the situation. Light is strong, he would never try to kill himself.”

“I- I know this Ryuzaki, I am sorry.”

“Never apologise for your feelings, Misa.” L dragged his finger across his desk and licked the sugar off of his finger. “What was the last thing you two talked about?”

Misa’s voice was quiet, but self assured, “We haven’t talked since I ended things. After that, he hasn’t been in class or on campus.”

“You did break up with him, surely he doesn’t want a lot of interaction with others right now.”

Misa huffed, “No, that can’t be it. I broke up with Light for his own good.”

L nervously bit at the skin around his nails, “If I may pry, what is the reasoning for the termination of your relationship.”

“I was afraid you would ask that…” Misa sighed, clearly debating what she wanted to say. L moved the mouse on his computers and idly scrolled through the essay he was editing, needing something to distract him, even if he was not processing any of the words being read on screen, “This is what Light was supposed to talk to you about but... I ended things because he… Ryuzaki, he is in love with you.” L bit down on his thumb. Hard. The metallic taste of blood was the only thing that was keeping him from passing out. “When we started our relationship 3 years ago, I knew he didn’t love me like I loved him, but I figured he would be able to learn to, right? But, something changed once he met you… He was smiling more and happier, but also distant and confused and pensive. I think he has been wrestling with this for a while, and it is unfair to myself, Light, or you to continue a relationship that no one is happy with.”

“Misa, I-”

“I am sure you are also a bit shocked about this turn of events as well… Or maybe not, I don’t know how much you suspected, but Ryuzaki I-” She sighed, sniffling slightly. L popped a sugar cube in his mouth. If Misa was about to start crying he needed all the glucose support he could get, “I was really mad at you at first. I hated you. But now I realise I should thank you. I was settling for someone who never really gave me their all, or really wanted me for me. I settled, and so did Light. We both deserve better. He wants you, and if you want him, let him know.”

“Did you tell Light all this as well?”

“Yea, it was the last thing we talked about.”

L chewed on his lip, “I think I know where he is.”

≠

“Well, this is certainly unexpected.”

Light turned around, L smirking softly behind him, the chilly wind musing his hair and chilling his bare feet. Light sighed, standing up from the collection of boulders he was on, facing L. He tugged his jacket closer around himself, “How did you find me here?”

“Cameras everywhere.” L idly pointed around, and Light simply raised an eyebrow, “Misa called me, told me what happened. I was able to figure out the rest”

Light nodded, sitting back down, but facing L still, “I see.” He looked at Light a little more. His state and appearance were worse than when he saw L 3 months ago, though it was clear he was trying to hide it. His pretty tan skin was sickly and shallow and his eyes were hollow.  The illusion of perfect Light Yagami wasn’t just gone, it was ripped to pieces and set on fire.

“Can I sit?” L asked, and Light made a small gesture with his hand. L crouched next to him, placing his hands atop his knees but remaining a good distance away from Light. He looked around at the forest. The very same place he and Light kissed his car, nearly everyday after classes for many months. They both had become very familiar with the area, though the tension in the air is palpable and unlike what L was used to. It reminded him of the closet incident a year ago. Nerves alight in both men, having no idea what action to take next.

“You look good.” Light said. L held back a chuckle, he looks like he always does and he knows it.

“You look tired, Light.”

“I am tired.” He responds simply. They stay silent for a few moments. L has so much he wants to ask, but this was Light’s conversation to lead, “I have been so stupid.” Light starts. He places his head in his hands, and runs his fingers through his hair, “I told myself the loneliness would go away with time. It didn’t, but I kept ignoring it. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you said and…” Light sighed, “No one has ever been that honest with me. They tell me I am perfect and good, so I thought this hollowness that I have felt ever since I was a child was normal. And then.... Then you came along telling me things could be better, and it could go away and I… I was scared.”

“Why?”

“Even if it is a bad feeling, it is terrifying to think of life without it.”

L nodded, pressing his thumb to his lips, “You would have ignored it forever if Misa hadn’t broken up with you.”

Light chuckled weakly, shaking his head, “Yeah, I probably would have.”

“Did you tell her, Light?”

He shook his head, “Misa doesn’t know. Maybe one day, I will tell her. Right now… She is being incredibly selfless, and I have been incredibly selfish, I didn’t want to add to that.”

“You realize that withholding the truth from her is, in of itself, a selfish action right?” Light gave him a pointed look and L just sighed, “So, why here then?”

Light looked pensively up at the stars, leaning back on his palms. Even with exhaustion and stress seeping through his body, he was still so beautiful, “The simplest way to put it is… Is I missed you. And I didn’t know what to do. I felt like running and hiding and lying was the easiest way to deal with my feelings, but it is too painful to do that, and acting like such a coward is killing me. And now you are here, and I don’t know what to do.”

L pondered this for a moment, “Well, you could come over here and kiss me.”

Light looked at him, eyes wide, “Is that ok?”

Chuckling, L shook his head, “You were not this hesitant and asking for permission the first time.”

He moved closer to L, caressing his cheek. Light ran a hand through L’s hair and softly pressed his lips against L’s. It wasn’t a symphony or a matching puzzle piece or the final brushstroke of a beautiful painting. It just felt so right after so long, and L could finally exhale.

“I am lucky to have you back, Light Yagami.” He kissed Light’s forehead.

Light smiled. Despite the fatigue still present, that familiar glow that Light always gleamed was returning, “Do I finally get a name for you now?”

“As long as I can call you mine,” He softly kissed Light’s cheek, “You can call me L.”

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

With more and more information revealed via Augustus' burner phone, The team now has to make an important decision, one that would change the course of their lives, forever.

Chapter 15 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Meet Me Halfway

Unexpected Alliances

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Flying above Russian Airspace

Roach was speechless. Admittedly the dark and messy battle at the Gulag was something worth noting but the thing that kept his head preoccupied at the moment was Soap and France kissing in the middle of warfare.

Guess love knows no boundaries huh. He thought to himself as he looked at France kneeling beside Soap who passed out from exhaustion. Another person laying beside him was an old man named Jack. The 141 records had a match to Jack, he's apparently Alex's mentor who got missing when their safehouse got raided.

Guess the force will be having two reunions tonight. His eyes turned to Price, who sat by the huge window and gazed into the sea of clouds, he's always serious and in thought that Gary found him intimidating, even after that short mission in Germany. 

Then there was Ghost. He's surely heartbroken now that she saw what France did. And Gary was slightly to blame, well not necessarily his fault but if he pushed him enough to confess, maybe this won't hurt more than it did to him today.

Gary spent the rest of the trip observing, noting his comrade's actions, discussing with their thoughts, especially after the invasion. He was glad 141 extracted Soap before the deliberation, where none of them are allowed to perform missions. Gary felt scared, he just got here, got the hang of it, and was afraid to cut ties with the 141 on such short notice. But he hoped Shepherd would talk sense to the board, especially now that the burner phone filled with leads was within their possession.

"You're awfully quiet…" Ghost nudged to Gary while fidgeting with his gun.

"Well, I got nothing to talk about." Gary replied, turning to the masked man.

"Well I've got a lot, and it's pretty nasty. Can't say it here though." He replied, his tone was almost relieved, as if he just blurted out something that was bothering him for a long time.

"Is it about them?" Gary whispered, pointing his thumb to the couple back at the med bay.

"That's a different story, and I told you I was right, they already had a thing going on since day 1. Who am I to interfere…" Gary could feel him frown beneath the mask, he got defeated in the war of love.

"That's okay… You'll find someone better." Gary consoled and Ghost automatically shrugged it off. 

"Eh. I hope…" he said, turning to the window opposite to Gary's position.

~

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

"The audio from this room's camera is muted so it's best to discuss it here." Ghost sat on the chair as concerned 141 members circled around him, Jack, Alex and Soap occupied the beds as they recovered from injuries.

"What you got for us, lad?" Price crossed his arms as he leaned by the door, his hat tilted perfectly on his head.

"An anonymous number sent Augustus coordinates of the base prior to the attack." He held up the phone and everyone murmured.

"Looks like we have another mole in our hands." Alex grunted, turning to Jack for nostalgia.

"But this time, we have a solid lead to who it is…" Ghost added while everyone braced themselves for the slap of reality they're going to get.

From out of nowhere the infirmary doors opened, Maxine was panting and sobbing at the same time, her hands held her thigh desperately enduring some sort of pain.

"It's Samantha… haaah… Shepherd took her!..." she panted as Gary quickly assisted him while everyone who was capable of fighting dashed to the scene.

"Go, Gary. I'll take care of her." Soap quickly got up with Jack, they were already fine and just required to complete their nutrition so assisting her would be the best option.

Gary nodded and dashed outside, bracing himself for the unbearable news.

"Shit. What's going on! I thought we already agreed not to take Samantha elsewhere!" Gary caught up with Ghost and the rest of the available team.

"I have my wild guess, but you're not going to like it." He replied, adjusting his shades as they exited the building. From there, they saw the General's aircraft already far away from their reach. Behind them Alex, Soap, Jack and Maxine followed, their faces were drawn with extreme sadness. 

A few seconds of staring at the sky and Price's comms received an incoming message.

"Captain, I regret to inform you that the 141 is no more… I'm sending the High Value Individual to their care as the threat escalated and is being designated to a different force. I'm sorry. Please tell the rest of the group that in two weeks they will be returned to their prior assignments before 141 was established." his voice was nonchalant, emotionless and straightforward, like he's reading it from a diner table's tissue paper.

"No…" Price muttered. They were this close to Nero.  The rest of the team looked down, others started to disperse and did as ordered while the more concerned group stayed.

"Shepherd's working with Nero. He wants the EMP based weaponry to help his marines in Afghanistan." Ghost blurted, raising the heads of everyone around him.

"He's trading the economical side of the world to win a war?" Gary asked, as the information doesn't add up.

"It's a wild guess but the global economic pressure is already influencing the government to allocate more funds to anti terrorism. Cutting off 141 shouldn't be in play but he found a way to do so… He wants us to stop fighting back." 

"Then fighting back is what we're going to do." Price muttered, grabbing his phone.

"I'm going to make a few phone calls. Those who want to stay and save the world could stay. Those who are content to return to their past lives, you could leave." 

"What about me?" Maxine asked, raising her hand.

"Come with us, We'll take care of you while it's not safe out." Gary said, almost pleading her to say yes.

"I don't have anyone else but France and Samantha. I don't know where to go from here…"

"Then that settles it. Nikolai will take us somewhere safe. If the 141 is no more, we could still salvage weapons and ammo for ourselves. But after this, there's no turning back." Price added, his voice sparked inspiration to everyone. 

And that was it, from that moment. They've gone rogue, for a good cause. And they have to defeat Nero, Whatever it takes.

The Next Step

John Price

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

Former Task Force 141 Base - Helipad

A small group of his comrades were willing enough to stop the war, even at the cost of losing a lot of privileges. Price was always one to work under strict jurisdiction, and this rogue act he's going to commit will be backed up soon, it's going to be dependent on how Laswell influences the board.

The idea was easy. Create another task force which had to be approved prior to the 141's disbandment so that the papers for their redeployment would never be processed. Of course a few strings needed to be pulled and an organization must be able to absorb them. Interpol was willing to help along with Jack's influence to the CIA and Price was lucky enough to have them two on their side.

And there they were, with Nikolai's majestic aircraft, they set course to a temporary camp thanks to Jack. Price noted that he'd get along with the CIA, given they're age similarities and stance toward warfare. 

He surveyed his trusty crew and took note of their abilities. There's Alex, former CIA and fought alongside him in Verdansk and Urzikstan. He's got a clear objective and will and it doesn't matter to Price whether its love or world peace. He's good at terrible hostile locations and can single-handedly turn the tide of war by local agreements and persuasion. A good weapon.

Then there's Simon Riley, or Ghost. Excellent Sniper, the team's tech guy. He's a keeper, his ability to reject emotions while in combat makes him focused and a keen observer. He also excels in weapon usage. You give him anything with a trigger and he'll be sure to hit enemies no matter what.

Another one is John MacTavish, or Soap, what kind of a name is Soap? Price thought. Price looked at the muppet proudly. He rose among his comrades during recruitment and stood at the top of his batch, showing exemplary combat skills and demolitions expertise. Excellent at handling air support machinery and his keen eye never misses a tango hiding from the field. He's got it tough recently, Price believed luck wasn't on his side that's why he got injured a lot.

There's Gary Sanderson or Roach. Price calls him the team's therapist. He sees the willingness to help from the guy. He's eager to train hard and be better and he was impressed on how he handled the German Infilnitration they did together. He has initiative and a clear goal. Something useful at these times.

There's Francine Winters, France a.k.a. Shepherd's prodigy, the last minute addition. He's still quite skeptic as to why she's placed here, but so far he knew that with her sister mentally disturbed by the enemies she's bound to use her emotions as ammunition. She's great at stealth and close combat especially great for breaking and entering missions. She could be trained of open area battles and she has the drive to do so, making her another good addition to the team.

As for the remaining ones, Jack and Maxine, he has no idea yet but them tagging along and using their resources to the fight would greatly increase their chances of killing Nero and destroying the era of EMP machinery.

"Looks like you got yourself a pretty nice team, pal." Jack patted the Former captain's shoulder.

"Yeah. Small enough to remain secret and powerful enough to defeat Nero." he muttered. Jack held his phone and showed it to Price.

"I got us a place. An old CIA Safehouse."

"Are you sure this is going to be okay?" 

"Positive. This one's not used for decades. Classified as dormant and unmaintained. It's situated near a city that once housed a lot of terror activity but after it got neutralized it became very peaceful." Jack convinced. Price no longer hesitated, the team needed the help they can get.

"As long as we're under the radar." He replied and gave Nikolai the coordinates. From there they would begin their revenge toward Nero's attack, plan Samantha's rescue, and discover what Shepherd is really up to...

One step at a time.

Doing everything they can.

To set things right.

Whatever it Takes.

END OF PART 1

Wild ride first half. I hope you stay for the second part right around the corner!

Notification Squad my beloved 💝

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @ricinbach @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

[lovelydeadlysocialite]

Request for Reassignment (Vyn/Kat)

Vynette sat at her desk, finishing up the paperwork assigned to her, just like any night in the office. The only difference was her demeanor. Something about her was tense. She caught a look from Kat more than once for her heel tapping nervously, and the elf kept sneaking glances at her Director to almost make a comment before sealing her lips again.

Finally, without looking up, some of the proposed words in her head finally managed to tumble out. "I was talking to an agent from another Unit today. I guess they've had eight agents now put in to answer the call for aid. From, you know, the Covenants."

"Uh-huh," Kat muttered in response without looking at the elven operative, her focus remaining on the papers she shuffled, expression blank.

It was more or less the kind of response Vyn expected. She sighed, knowing she was going to have to move things forward. "It seems like the need for more trained hands is still pretty great. And what with the duties of wartime off everyone's plates, more or less," her voice trailed softer and quicker as she mumbled, "I was considering requesting a temporary assignment to offer my abilities. Ma'am."

Kat froze in place, staring at the document in hand as a slow exhale spilled over her lips. Eyelids shut as lips curled inward over the teeth and the paper set aside. "There are plenty of eager hero types and jar-heads t' fill the ranks." Her response monotone as the stark gaze shifted to the elf.

"We have plenty t'do here."

The air in the room thinned out at Kat's tone and in any other instance, Vyn would have dropped the topic. Unfortunately, the circumstances here were unique. "I know. There is work to be done, and I'm not ignoring or underplaying the work we do." She may have come to Unit Eight looking for a job and a safe place to hide, but she did understand the value they added to the Alliance she was somehow a part of now.

"It is just... the request came for me specifically." An uncharacteristic uncertainty softened Vynette's voice. "My teacher is part of the House of Eyes. He has called for me to aid the Necro Lords."

Without missing a beat, Kat's eyes narrowed sharply following Vyn's confession. "I see..." Her tone and demeanor turned ice-cold, and the eye contract broke, the Director diving back into her papers.

"So after everythin', I've done, everythin' I've risked, yer going t' abandon me just like that." Pain and anger laced Kat's words, her jaw tightening towards the end. "One letter from a ghost and I'm nothin' t' ya'."

Vyn's bright blue eyes went wide at the shift in tone. It was rare to see such intensity drawn from the otherwise collected and calculating Director. As someone who genuinely respected Kat, Vyn felt the pit of guilt in her stomach. "No, that's not it at all! You're... you mean a lot to me. You took a chance on me." She spoke of the risks Kat took for her in a hushed voice, not wanting to raise suspicions of anyone who might still be lingering in a nearby office. "I owe you everything."

Taking a deep breath, Vyn pressed forward, mustering up her determination. "I am not looking to leave beyond a temporary reassignment; my home is here. With you and with the Unit." Their office was one of the few consistent places anyone could find her these days. "But he was the one who got me here. He saw value in me and gave me purpose. And I failed him. And he died," she finally admitted.

"And I saw value in ya', and gave ya' a new purpose!" Kat quickly countered, pointing a finger in the elven woman's direction. "A purpose that could have, and still could, get us both killed."

With a scoff, Kat's head shook, and her arms crossed as she stood from the desk and paced. "Ya' failed him, but he sends a letter? Have ya' gone dense Vynette?" For once, the Director addressed her elven shadow by the first name rather than the forged surname. "It has trap written all over it. Or did ya' forget how ya' were ejected from the Horde?"

It would have been easy to call her paranoid; plenty of people in SI:7 had already. The real pain came from the truth in her words.

"I was overconfident when I got set up. I'm not that anymore thanks to you," she pointed out. "Being by your side is important to me."

Vyn was to the point of pleading, even when she knew Kat was not so easily swayed. What else could she do? "Kat..." She addressed the woman, not the title. "There's still closure I need from my time as an apprentice. Shit I'm still carrying with me. My loyalty is with you; no one can change that. So I'm asking-- begging for the chance to serve the cause in the Shadowlands and put my ghosts to rest."

A heated exhale pushed through the nostril as Kat turned her back to Vynette's pleading, facing the wall where documents, pins, and red string put together the tapestry of their current case. She did not appear to be swayed by the elf's begging, not entirely. Something in that final statement did bring a silent pause.

"If bein' by my side is so important, then why so eager to leave it?" She chose to hone in on other points and skip over the please, keeping her back to the elf. There was still a tinge of pain and anger in her tone.

"Livin' in th' past never moved anyone forward. I need ya' here. Or is suddenly wot I and this job I graced ya' with no longer of importance? I didn' say a bloody thing when I came back to find yer visage eerily similar to mine, plucked a hair from the office, no doubt. Even when my patience is tested by yer sometimes questionable motivations and comments in the borderline territory of breakin' my rules, I allowed yer leash to remain lax. I never asked fer anythin' other than service in return, even after footin' the bills to fake and create yer life in the Alliance. But this is the thanks I get? T'be abandoned fer some Horde dog."

Vynette got to her feet, because she disliked the tone Kat was taking regarding her teacher. Vyn rarely defied Kat; it was not in her nature. Still, she persisted. "You've let my leash remain lax because I've done everything you've ever asked of me, without question. I've followed every order, completed every mission," her voice dropped lower, but picked up its intensity, "I've done every off-book task you've needed with a smile because I'm your knife. I've committed sins for you and I'd commit them thrice over and you know that."

Scrunching her nose at the realization that her tone was getting away from her, Vynette composed herself. "He's not some Horde dog, Director; he's found a place of high standing in the House of Eyes. If I went over your head, they'd give me the go ahead. Hell, I could go to Fiske. I didn't do that because I don't give a shit about their authority. You're the one I follow."

Looking down at her desk, Vynette sat back down feeling resigned to defeat. "If you command me to stay, I'll stay. I don't ask for much. But I'm just asking for you to trust me. I have debts to repay, but he's not my master anymore."

As the Operative's tone began to get away from her, Kat looked back over her shoulder. One brow lifted as she stared the elven woman down from across the room as if cursing her for the act of defiance.

"Go over m'head or t'Fiske, and it won't be a temporary reassignment." The Director barked. Whether it was a threat or fact was anyone's guess.

Fingers ran through her raven tresses, pulling the strands back as she sighed quietly, seemingly content with Vynette's concession. "When this case is over," Kat motioned to the wall at her side as she turned to face the elf. "Then I will consider signin' off on a temporary reassignmen'. I will no' make any promises, however."

The tension in Vyn's shoulders released. Resisting Kat's authority made her physically uncomfortable, but she had made it to the other side. They both knew the elf would not go over Kat's head, but she was still being given an out. She could handle finishing their assignment at hand. She would cling to the hope that, if she continued to be on her best behavior, Kat would give her the chance to settle her past.

"Of course, ma'am," she replied with an earnest salute and a genuine, radiant smile. "Til then, the only thing on my mind is our case. I'm all yours; you have my word."

"Good," Kat murmured as she returned to her desk and the papers scattered atop it.

"Now get out of m'sight for an hour or two before I change m'mind, and there better be a bottle in one hand when ya' return."

[ @kat-hawke​ ]

[narcissasdaffodil]

20 for Lottie x Marisol, cuz i loved their oneshot! 💕💕💕

Thank you so much for the prompt! Recently sad stuff comes more naturally to me, so enjoy this one. This is the same verse as my oneshot.

So casually cruel in the name of being honest.

Marisol started to make her way upstairs to the roof terrace. She wanted desperately to have some time to herself, to sit with only herself for company.

She heard voices as she passed the bedroom, and ducked into the dressing room. The voices are coming from the roof terrace, and they float downstairs. The dressing room was the perfect vantage point to listen in on conversations from the roof.

“It isn’t worth it! Trying with Marisol that is. I should just focus on Gary, she’s just treating me like a puppet on a string, pulling me along and expecting me to follow her every word. You’re lucky to have Lucas, he’s honest and clear about his feelings for you. I wish Henrik stayed, maybe then I’d have another option.” Lottie snapped, her voice clear as a bell and obviously pissed off. But she’s the one who’s new to a relationship with a girl. Not you, you’ve done this before. Your only proper relationship with a girl was Olivia, and that ruined you, losing a friendship and a girlfriend all at once. How can she be so definite, and not scared of starting something new? You struggle with commitment, Olivia burnt you badly.

“You need to be more patient, Lottie. She isn’t like Lucas, and probably has a reason for struggling so much. Have you even thought of asking her? Of trying to understand her side. Love isn’t supposed to be easy, and when you decided to go down this route, I thought you realised that. If you wanted easy, you’d go for Gary.” Livia explained, trying to placate her a little bit. Lottie on a rampage was something difficult to solve, only Livia ever had any luck with her like this. Maybe you did make a mistake. Maybe being stuck pining for Livia would be far better than whatever this is.

“Oh please. She’s so fickle. And you keep making excuses for her, despite the fact she’s hopped from guy to guy like she’s collecting them or something. Nothing’s worked out at all, maybe because they can’t stand having her psychoanalyse them. I mean, she even tried for Lucas, but he turned her down, politer than she deserved. And you forgave her for that. I don’t get you sometimes.” Marisol could hear the sound of heels from the roof, likely Lottie pacing about. Fickle? It’s not your fault nothing has worked out for you. And you’re stuck in yet another friendship couple, with Bobby. The same person who tried to get Livia interested in him by getting her involved in Operation Nope, and pretended to be offended when she was offended by it. He even tried to get you involved. Maybe he’s also sick of you, you wouldn’t be surprised. The only person you really have is Livia, and she has Lottie for a best friend so you’re only second rate to her too.

Marisol took in a deep breath and fiddled with a loose curl of hair. She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes, what Lottie was saying hurt.

“You’re being too harsh. What if she heard you talking like this about her? I know I’d be considerably pissed. Also I forgave her for Rocco, and the Lucas thing, I wouldn’t take either back also. Both her and Lucas apologised to me about that, Lucas didn’t need to, it wasn’t his fault she liked him. The fact both of them were open and honest about it made me respect them more. It takes guts to be honest about something.” Livia sighed audibly. You chose to put all your love on the wrong person it appears. Maybe you don’t know for sure if Livia would have reciprocated it, but asking her even if she turned you down in the way Lucas did would have worked out well compared to this mess with Lottie. The way she’s treating you is completely wrong, she still keeps coming for you, and everyone else lets her do it. There’s only two people who keep defending you, Livia and Lucas and you don’t understand why Lucas is doing it.

“She’s not the type to eavesdrop. Besides, I don’t really care as I regret wasting my time on her. I know she even voted Henrik out too, after the little bait and switch you had to do to keep Lucas. I don’t blame you for it, but part of me thinks I’d have been better with Henrik. She wouldn’t even have needed to tell you if she hadn’t stabbed you in the back. Not even Priya, after her stunt with Noah, wastes her time with Marisol, and Hope stays clear too. That does say something in my eyes. She’s alone for a reason, not even Bobby likes her and he likes everyone. That’s something you need to realise, how she’s completely bad news.” Lottie laughed, the sound harsh and scratching at Marisol’s ears. Wasting her time on you? That’s not the first time someone has said that, but even Olivia wasn’t so obvious when she gave up on you. Or quite as quick. You did vote Henrik out, but that was in a desperate attempt to keep Rocco, even if your decision might fuck Livia over. Thankfully she saw that coming, and actually understood your reasoning. There’s a reason you prefer your own company, you can’t betray yourself. You must deserve to be alone, it’s far safer that way. Apart from Livia, who likely only pities you.

“Wow. You’ve changed your tune. You’ve gone back to the same you were when Roccogate happened, I did hope you’d grown as a person since then. She hasn’t even hurt you, or done anything to you.” Livia appeared frustrated by her tone alone. Marisol wanted so desperately to just leave the room, but as she tried to get up from her seat at the dressing table, her knees buckled under her weight, which caused her to sit down hard on the chair. Her vision blurred with tears and she removed her glasses, watching the mascara tears drip down her cheeks in the mirror. Lottie’s broke your heart in the blink of an eye, you don’t matter to her one bit.

“Whatever. I’m not going to go over old ground with you yet again. I’ve got over it, so why haven’t you? These shoes are killing me, so I’m going to change them then find Lucas. Don’t follow me.” Livia made her way to the door, the sounds of her heels echoing against the roof.

“But!” Lottie protested.

“But nothing. You tell me that you’re not a bad person, but you turn on people so quickly. You lash out at everyone, apart from me. It appears I haven’t earned a place on your bad list so far. You’re a cruel person, Lottie. Especially in the way you talk about Marisol. I bet you wouldn’t like it if Mari was talking about you that way, yet you easily do it to her.” Livia replied while making her way downstairs. Lottie doesn’t respond to that comment, and the dressing room is silent apart from the sound of heels, and Marisol’s sobs. She is cruel. You can’t love someone like that, who’s casually cruel in the name of being honest. She has it out for you specifically too. It really hurts.

Marisol heard the click of the door, and looked over to see Livia making her way inside.

“Marisol? I didn’t know you were in here. Are you okay?” Livia’s eyes widen at the sight of her, and Marisol feels like she must be quite a mess for Livia to act that way. She stood on shaky legs and wrapped her arms around Livia, unable to speak. She hid her face in the taller girl’s shoulder, and let go her emotions entirely. Her throat has a persistent lump in it, and she can’t speak past it. Livia stroked her hair gently and the simple motion is enough to ground her, to make her feel less awful. She stayed in the same position until she calmed down enough to look at Livia.

“I...I heard both of you talking. I heard it all, I guess I fell for the wrong person, huh? I can’t be with someone who gossips about others like that. I’m absolutely awful though, I get that much. I get why I’ve gone through so many guys here, I’d be sick of me too. I’m no one’s first choice, not even Lottie’s. You’re so lucky to have Lucas, I’m glad you’re happy at least, if I’m not destined for it.” She spoke past the lump in her throat and stared down at her feet. Meeting Livia’s eyes was hard, she didn’t want to be pitied.

Livia caught hold of her chin, turning Marisol’s face to face hers, and making direct eye contact with her, her emerald green eyes piercing into Marisol’s coffee coloured ones. “No. I’m sorry, but that’s a serious load of bullshit. You’re not awful, and I’m not sick of you. Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt your worth. You’re a wonderful person in your own right, you’re gorgeous. You’re also honest, which means I value your opinions. I definitely want you to find someone, you do deserve a genuine relationship. Someone will come along who puts you first, mark my words. And you’ll know when you know. Like me and Lucas.”

“But, how are you sure? Part of me wishes it was you I fell for, that would make a little more sense. And I wasn’t asked on a date, when Lurik came in. So of course I didn’t feel any major liking to either of them. I was the only one too, then adding the Bobby thing and OP Nope, it feels like I’m cursed.”

“Uh, uh. You’re not cursed. I have a feeling you have a reason for your walls being so high, so I’m not going to treat you like Lottie. Not kidding here, if she puts up with her nonsense, then I’m dropping her friendship. Easily too, I’d much prefer to have you for a best friend. This might not help, but if it wasn’t for Lucas, I’d like you too. I understand not having any dates did sting, I get that. But if they don’t see how awesome you are, that’s their problem.” Livia taps her on the nose playfully, causing Marisol to look up at her with wide eyes.

“R...really? You mean that? You’d drop Lottie for me? I can kind of handle being second to Lucas because it’s you. That does mean a lot. Thank you.”

“Really, really. I don’t say stuff I don’t mean. I don’t like bullies. If Lottie persists, then I don’t want her around me, point blank.” Livia wiped her tears gently with a discarded tissue and focused on cleaning up her face a bit. The pressure was gentle and she focused on the feeling of finger tips on her skin.

Marisol tried for a wobbly smile, and just about managed it. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but the fact you did means a lot.”

“Of course. Mari, what did you expect me to do, just leave you all upset? I wouldn’t do that, and it sucks that you heard all that. Are you going to give her another chance, or is that it?” Livia let go of her chin and retrieved a pair of heeled boots, sliding them onto her bare feet. She put her flip flops back with her other shoes and turned back to Marisol.

“I don’t know. It should be easy to answer, but I don’t know. I want to give her another chance, but I’ve given so many.” Marisol tapped her hand on the dressing table, unexpectedly nervous. Be careful. Lottie could hurt you again.

[lurkingleighbee]

Thrawn Ascendancy: Greater Good  Chapter 15 - Chapter 18

Chapter 15

Ar’alani gets to “Sunrise” and sees no lights or any signs of life, which scares her

a super circular asteroid just happens to be floating into view... hmmm....

checking all previous records of battles/visits to the planet to see if it was there 

and it appears that it wasn’t

Ar’alani points out Thrawn would have noticed the asteroid, as “even in the middle of a battle, there’s very little that gets past him.”

Wutroow calls it a moon, which I think is a cute little callback to the Obi-Wan Kenobi quote from A New Hope

that’s no moon! 

This exchange is great:

“Captain Lakinda, are you game to try something dangerous?” “As opposed to just being part of the Expansionary Defense Fleet,” Wutroow added. 

Lakinda is a little bit intimidated, I think

I wish Lakinda had her own gal pal with her 

Ar’alani and the enemy get into a back and forth argument about who has been asked by the refugees to help them out

While that is going on, Lakinda planned to decimate the asteroid (which is really a giant bomb with missiles attached) in a careful way

I write planned, because “without warning the entire asteroid exploded, hurling shards of stone outward in all directions

I want to feel excitement, but given that Ar’alani will survive all the way up to Thrawn: Treason and I don’t feel like Lakinda is going to get axed, it is difficult to muster up the feeling 

Chapter 16

the Grayshrike takes some damage, and with “the view port blast shields automatically slammed shut,” so they have to reply on sensor and tactical displays

in the center of the asteroid’s internal framework “was the missile, its nose peeking out of the thick casing through the launcher.”

they are trying to destroy the entire thing before the launcher goes after the Vigilant or the Grayshrike

Thankfully its disabled

However, the Battle Dreadnought and the Vigilant are locked in battle 

even though Ar’alani wanted Lakinda to bring the asteroid/launcher with her, Lakinda opted to go in assisting Ar’alani without it 

Ar’alani gets into another sound of aggressive negotiations, both of them taunting the other 

I know how to destroy you!!!

Nuh uh!

or more flowery: “Your statement lacks accuracy. It is I who knows how to destroy you.”

Just as Lakinda and Ar’alani are about to destroy the Battle Dreadnought when it decides to self-destruct

overall, a success but Lakinda tears herself down for not getting the launcher and thinks Thrawn would have found a way to have done it 

compare yourself to Thrawn and you will always fall short

I feel like Thrawn would tell her to chin up and focus on her own talents and strengths, instead of tearing herself down for her weaknesses

MASSIVE SPOILERS HERE ON OUT

Memories VI

Haplif is still trying to push Yoponek to his intended goals, but he considers the young Chiss spineless

Shimkif decides to take matters into her own hands. AGAIN. 

and employs straight up biological warfare against Yomie and makes her very ill

Shimkif also manages to figure out that Yomie “doesn’t want Yoponek to give up all his hopes and dreams for her. She wants him to be willing to give them up. Once she’s satisfied that he would do that for her, he can go charging on to fame and fortune on Celwis, and she’ll stand by smiling and being all proud of him.”

Having gotten to the end of the book, hell to the end of the chapter - I can ensure you this information means nothing in the long run 

Because Yomie has figured out that Haplif is telepathic

So that leaves Haplif utilizing Option Three - killing her

Her body is left in the vast emptiness of the universe

Call this blaming the victim - but it seems like Yomie had suspicions from the start that Haplif and his crew (of fifty, that we never see btw) were iffy.

So why did you go along with complete strangers and really press on their hospitality as hard as you did?! 

Still does not make her murder okay

And presumably, her boyfriend doesn’t care about her whereabouts (since he buys some cock and bull story right away), her parents do not check on her, and her friends don’t either

COMPLETELY USELESS CHARACTER!

Chapter 17

Lakuviv is just agog over the treasure Lakjiip “confirmed” for him

This trap is so obvious to everyone but to these two numbskulls

And this exchange would probably make Thrawn pull his own hair out:  

“They said the metal has no particular value of its own. It’s the skill with which the artists turn it into jewelry that’s important.” Lakuviv shook his head. “Idiots.” Lakjiip shrugged. “In general, I suppose that’s mostly true of art. Give an artist a hundred Univers to spend on paint and a presentation board, and out pops a picture someone else will spend thousands for. It’s just in this specific case the whole thing is reversed.” “If you ask me, everything about the art world is just barely controlled anarchy.” Lakuviv said.  Thrawn would be like:

Lakuviv and Lakjiip want to get this up the chain of command

Lakuviv invites the Patriel over for a chit-chat about a nyix mine that practically fell into his lap, with no strings attached, totally above board, no suspicions, nope, no ma’am

Yoponek points out that Lakuviv could pull emergency powers

backed into a corner of your own making? 

emergency powers!

Had to read this a couple of times before I made sense of it, but if I have this summarized correctly:

if you declare a family emergency, you can bring back officers and warriors (I assume that means enlisted soldiers) 

The rules are so convoluted

if you’re one of the Forty Families that used to be one of the Ruling Families AND have an under crewed family fleet, you are allowed (?) to call in the Chiss from that specific family for an “emergency”

This is so ripe for abuse

And this is kind of recent history

But it is so made up and so unnecessarily complicated

These are the chapters when the book really started to lose me 

Yoponek has to be the one that explains this

Lakuviv or Lakjiip could have done this on their own - looked for an excuse to exploit the mines 

Yoponek and Yomie are so useless 

Chapter 18

So, Thrawn’s name is even known among farmers as that art guy 

lol

This is this the convo between Lakphro and his cousin:

“...Senior Captain Thrawn has a reputation for knowing a lot about alien art and artworks.” “I’m happy for him. But I don’t need an art critic. I need a metals specialist.” “I know that’s what you asked for. Here’s the thing. I’m wondering if Thrawn might be able to tell us something else about the brooch, just as it is. Maybe something important.”  “Like what?” “No idea,” Lakbulbup admitted. “But once we take it for testing, even a little bit apart, that chance is gone.” “I don’t know what he could possible see that we can’t,” Lakphro said. “It’s just a bunch of metal threads, and they’re woven together in a pattern. End of story.”  “Like I said, I don’t know, either,” Lakbulbup said. “But I...” ... “Maybe,” Lakphro said. “But what if-” “But nothing,” Lakbulbup said firmly. “Trust me, Lakphro. I’ve heard stories about this Thrawn fellow, and I truly think it’s worth running the brooch past him.”

Lakuviv is irked that Patriel Lakooni points out the obvious - that this is clearly a scam

Yesss!!! Common sense!

Unfortunately, it does not get to prevail 

even Lakuviv has the gut instinct to back down, but he pushes on ahead

He takes her hostage and uses Lakooni’s personal codes to call for an emergency 

Lakinda gets the jewelry piece from Lakwurn (these names are starting to run together) and an hour before she leaves for space, she gets the “family emergency”

Lakinda is torn between family and duty

she decides to stay for the family emergency

she does forward the box to Thrawn 

and she send the Grayshrike on ahead with Mid Captain Apros on it

Thurfian gets to listen to a long-ass presentation about this slightly suspicious “Universal Analysis Group” that I initially thought might be important later

but having read to the end of the book, I can tell you - that it is not 

Thurfian manages to deal with the squabble in such a way that Speaker Thyklo (who are you again?) says he reminds her “a little of Syndic Thrass. He was also good at appearing to give people what they wanted while simultaneously doing what needed to be done.” “Really,” Thurfian said, feeling a stirring inside him. “I assume that’s a compliment. “Very much so,” Thyklo said with a smile. “Thrass wasn’t as skilled at it as you are, but he definitely had the talent. A terrible shame that we lost him.” “Yes. To Thrawn.” “Or to circumstances,” Thyklo said. “It’s easy to place blame, but it’s not always productive. Or always accurate.” 

Also, rumors abound that the Speaker and at least two Patriels are looking to retire

Thurfian is thinking about moving on up

Instead of all this time with Haplif (and Yoponek and Yomie) - why not spend the memories sections on Thurfian and develop his character?!

Give me a good reason for why he hates Thrawn so much!!! 

Like, Zahn is kind of telling me but I need more information as to why Thurfian is this obsessed over this one guy  Me reading this book:

[hughiecampbelle]

Blood Sport (Bonnie Gold Oneshot)

Character/s: Bonnie

Word Count: 1,249

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @fangirlsarah16​

A/N: So, I don’t actually write for Bonnie in general as a character, but he was the only character I could come up with a relative idea to write for :) Burnout has not been kind to ya gurl. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more insecure about my fics and ideas and plots, but I am happy to report I really like this! Dare I say proud? Ahh I say it, I’m really proud!!! It turned out better than I expected, especially after a week of agonizing over every little word I wrote. I love how this turned out, I’m incredibly proud of the outcome, and I think it’s a wonderful way to come back from being so frustrated and exhausted from writing! I hope you like it as much as I do! Feedback is always appreciated! ���💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

A boy who spoke in fists, in split knuckles and bloody noses. His smiles, though bright, contagious, endearing, were often glazed in red, iron on his breath, in his words and wishes. Bruises too beautiful to hurt, too delicate to rupture, staining, painting his skin. Not a piece of him safe, not a piece of him untouched. He was a broken figurine, put back together over and over again only to be knocked off a ledge, dropped, discarded, left to shatter, scatter. There was a difference though. Watching a figurine crack, shed a tear, smile through the pain, that was bearable. Watching him in the ring, dueling, dancing, surviving, spitting his own teeth at his feet, his eyes rolling in the back of his head, it was unbearable. You felt every sting, every blow, flinching with every move, your cries hidden beneath the jeers and quips at the boys fighting. They weren't people anymore, but mindless entertainment, a show to profit from, just another casualty in the ring. By the end of the match your head was pounding, pulsing with the cheers of the crowd.

The air came alive in a place like this. It drew people in with its animalistic ways, reverting back to predator and prey, the pack mentality. Screaming, shouting, loosening their ties, their top buttons, relaxing in a place that valued the lack of civilization, forgetting that their words had power. You weren't sure what you'd been doing there in the first place. The very idea repulsed you. Throwing their paychecks away, the same paper and coins that put food on their families tables, betting on the least lethargic looking body. Baby faced boys, too hungry for power, for a pedestal, anything to bring them up in the world. You found an empty place in the back, farthest away from the scene, striking up a conversation with a dark eyed boy, paler than the full moon. He'd watch how you'd grimaced, shielding your eyes, turning away, praying that the bell would ring, that this would all be over soon. But it wasn't. He knew by the looks of the fighters, the pressure they were under, one of them would have to die before they waved their white flag.

He urged you outside, following along, questioning why you were there if you knew what was going to happen. Maybe it was a twisted sense of curiosity, a wonder you'd never hush unless you saw it, felt it or yourself. Maybe it was a lack of understanding, needing to know the appeal before you could write it off, ignore it until it lost its charm. He listened carefully, nodding along, taking your words in with every inhale. He didn't defend like so many others had, arguing with your view, willing you to see it in another light. This boy, with his quiet, understanding demeanor, was open to your ideas, picking apart your thoughts, wanting to see everything inside them. You wanted to know what he was doing there, why he decided to stray, to talk, instead of join in on all the fun, but the bell interrupted you, an older man too, calling for him. He left you with a wink and a promise: he'd be here tomorrow night too, if you wanted to see him again. A voice he followed, slipping into the mass as if he'd never even left, the man repeating one name: Bonnie.

You never knew he was one of them, a boy tied to the rope in a burning ring. You saw him night after night, always in the dark, always at the same time. It was his only way of hiding the evidence. He fought in the light, the daytime, the sun streaming across his bare back, rays across his thin shoulders, holding him up when he threatened to fall. Every time he stepped up, his father's words clearest of all, urging him to win, to kill, he couldn't stop thinking about what you said. Was this all a kind of carnage? Tame enough for the masses, but only for those with the acquired taste for blood? It didn't stop him. He loved what he did, he put everything into it, but it made him question the sport more than he ever expected. He didn't want to tell you what he did when the sun came up. He couldn't bear the thought of you seeing him differently, judging him, putting him in the same category as the rest of them. He liked the person you made him, a boy of stars, of quiet, contemplative conversation and unbroken promises. Nights full of flirting, of an easy kind of love that felt as natural to him as breathing. Your days full, busy, asking too much, demanding even more, expecting you too change too conform, but the night was just for the two of you. It was the best part of his day, the thing that kept him going.

Bonnie didn't want to spoil what you had together.

You weren't mad. You couldn't be. You'd caught on naturally. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, no matter how many stories he could string together, your eyes were attentive. Sometimes he walked with a limp, or winced when you held his hand, his knuckles broken. Some night too dizzy, too tired to stand, taking ease in the dirt and rocks despite the discomfort. The night he told you his eye was swollen shut, screaming in a dark purple tone. He realized nothing from a mundane life could explain this. He had to come clean. You assured him, no matter what, nothing would ever change the way you felt about him. You didn't like it, you didn't understand it, but you would never, ever make him choose between his dreams and you. It would be unfair, it would be manipulative, none of which you were willing to resort to. Bonnie, your golden boy, thanked you, laughing, relieved, putting up with the pain in his jaw to kiss you. You made one condition though, that the next fight he was in you'd get to see. He was hesitant, fearful. There was a difference between describing it and living it. But he agreed, wanting no more secrets between you.

That fight, the anticipation, the raw reality of what was about to happen, it got to you. It made your chest tighten, your hands shake, your thoughts go to the darkest of places. He found you right before, his shorts on, gloves around his hands. You couldn't grab his hands the way you did, rubbing his fingers, making sure he was really there, really that close. Bonnie watched your own worries gnaw at you, eat you alive. He had to do something to reassure you, even in the ring, that he would be okay. Like that fist night, he made a promise with a wink. If he went down, he'd look to you, show you that he was alright. Ignore the blood, ignore the cuts and bumps and wounds. If he winked, he was okay. From then on, that's what he did. No matter how many you attended for him, excited to see him grow as a boxer, the atmosphere still got to you. You still winced, you yelped and screamed at the thud of his body going down, crying out when his eyes closed, but he always pulled himself together, knowing exactly where you were in the crowd. No matter what, he never broke his promise.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

May I ask for the scenario with Sebastian and his lover having a meaningful pillow talk in the night? Something etheral and melancholic for my hopelessly romantic soul, if you could. Thank you a lot ♥

oh man, I hope I captured this mood the right way! it’s something I’m very weak for myself

For a moment, SEBASTIAN thinks that (Name) may have fallen asleep. That’s something that often does happen with the two of them after sex; she cuddles up to him and simply closes her eyes. The next thing he knows, she’s giving off that easy, deep breathing that means she’s drifted off.

He concerns himself with staring out the window at the nearly-full moon and clouds passing by it. As he does, he strokes his lover’s hair, only all too happy to keep her comfortable. A part of him thinks he’s lucky to have her. Another part is haughty enough to think that she’s lucky to have him. Perhaps, he eventually decides, those statements aren’t mutually exclusive. They might both be lucky.

As a demon doesn’t technically require sleep, Sebastian is more than content to lie here all night, shifting his gaze between her and the night sky. That is, until his fingers pause, and he receives a syrupy, “Mmmh… why did you stop?”

He glances down with one eyebrow arched, clearly amused. “Feeling awfully entitled to my touch, aren’t we?”

“Please,” she laughs, “after what you just did to me, you should be happy I’m settling for you playing with my hair instead of asking for another go.”

The favor is returned with a low chuckle rumbling up from his chest. “Would you rather I just played with your hair, or would you like to go again?”

She offers a thoughtful hum in reply. “― No, I really like you stroking my hair after we make love.”

“‘Make love’ is an incredibly soft phrase for what we did tonight,” he smirks.

“Oh, hush.” (Name) presses herself against his side, twining one of her legs around one of his and slipping a hand under the blanket to lay on his bare chest. “You know, I do love you, though, Sebastian. Sometimes I wish you would sleep so I could be the one to watch you for a change.”

Sebastian resumes combing his fingers through her hair as he thinks about that. It makes him wonder if she might prefer someone human like she is, but then again, she did just say that she loved him, that she just wished he slept. If she would like someone human, she likely would have said she wished he were human. “Well, I could certainly try.”

“Noooo, you don’t have to.” Her fingers glide gently over his skin, rubbing back and forth between his pecs. “We could just talk.”

He gives a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course. I like talking to you. What’s on your mind?”

He can feel her shrug in his arms. “I mean… nothing much. I’ve just been thinking lately how much I love being here. How fortunate I am to be serving Ciel, able to spend so much time with you, and to have such good friends. There was a time I wasn’t sure I’d have any of this… and now I do.”

“I can’t say I don’t understand the feeling. To be honest, though it may not surprise you, there’s ― not much accounting for positive relationships among demons.” His fingers tangle up her hair, taking satisfaction in the way it curls around them before being allowed to fall back down. “You’re probably the first good thing I’ve ever had. The first good romance, anyway.”

“And the others?”

“There are certainly worse masters than Ciel, and I’ve served some of them,” he admits. “Mey Rin, Bard, and Finny… they’re not the best at their jobs, but overall they’re not so bad.”

“Mmh,” she sighs. Her eyes fall closed. “Soma and Agni?”

“They’re good people. You know,” he muses, “I’m still surprised Agni considers me a friend. In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever truly had a friend.”

“Never?”

“Alliances, maybe, between other demons.” It’s his turn to shrug. “Tenuous at best, harmful at worst. But that’s how demons are.”

(Name) shifts around to rest her head on his collarbone. The look on her face, when he steals a glimpse down, is so blatant he can practically hear the gears turning in her mind. “What about your parents? Your mother and father? Surely demons have families.”

He has to smile at her innocence. She has such a big heart and such hope for the world; it’s a pity he has to shatter it with his honesty. “Not like humans do. I only ever knew my mother. And she… taught me everything I know, but I feel she would also be thoroughly disgusted with me for my current situation.”

His lover frowns a little, though to her credit, she doesn’t look broken up beyond belief. It’s almost as if she expected that answer. “That’s a bit sad.”

“Maybe. Again, it’s just how demons are. We’re often very solitary creatures who don’t have the same values as humans do. Very few of us understand the concept of morals as humans know them. We have our own sort of moral code, but it’s… different to humans’.” He wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m surprised I enjoy the company of humans as much as I’ve learned to. Mother would be disappointed.”

The way he says that makes (Name) think that his mother’s disappointment is something Sebastian revels in. It’s only because of such a tone that she snorts, though she instantly puts her hands over her face. “Sebastian!”

“What?” he murmurs as if he has no idea what he’s said that might earn himthat reaction. “It’s true. Besides, when I have you, what do I need anyone else for? The only one I might like other than you is Ciel, and that’s only because his soul is―”

“― Delicious, I know,” she groans. “Do we have to talk about that right now? No matter what you want him for, Ciel is my friend and master. I care about him.”

He leans down for a kiss, running his tongue lightly between her lips. “Yes, I know, my dear.” And he smiles against the edge of her mouth… a sure sign that he’s about to tease her. “You needn’t be jealous, you know. I harbor no feelings for the young master the way I do for you, and it’s not like your soul wouldn’t make a fine meal. It’s just that I would need quite a bitter wine to go with your soul; it’s far too sweet on its own.”

It’s a wonder she doesn’t shove him away, though she’s laughing at his remarks. Of course she isn’t the least bit jealous of Ciel ― she adores him, and he only wants Sebastian in the context of getting revenge, and Sebastian only wants him in the context of dinner. Adding in all the commentary about her soul being sweet? Oh, he’s terrible. “Sebastian!”

That he laughs at her while pulling her close suggests he knows exactly what he’s done wrong and simply doesn’t care. “Yes, my lady?”

“You are incorrigible.” She lavishes a string of kisses to his jaw before snuggling in tucked under it. “It’s good for you that I happen to like incorrigible.”

Both of them are quiet for a long minute, while she traces patterns on his chest and he twirls her hair around his fingers. Finally, she speaks up again, barely above a whisper: “Sebastian?”

“Yes?” He matches her volume almost effortlessly.

“… I said a moment ago that I love you. Do… you love me?”

More silence blankets the room. At long last, when Sebastian speaks, it’s slow and deliberate. “― As much as a demon can love anyone.”

(Name) tightens her grip on him. “And… how much is that?”

He can smell insecurity and curiosity a mile away, and so he holds her as close as he’s physically able to, and presses a kiss to her head that is both fierce and gentle, to reassure her.

“Quite a bit,” he whispers. “I have never been so happy to call someone mine.”