#Uh sorry the books section is long

[milkteabinniechan]

*⁠♡Happy Father's Day - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY membership // m.list

pairing: single dad! Chan x afab reader

warnings: fingering, lots of mouth sounds, angst (if you squint your eyes)

I’ll tell him about you.

Your friend had an adorable three year old. A loud, sticky, energetic three year old. But adorable nonetheless. You had a pretty regular babysitting gig going. A few people around your neighborhood had talked and heard about your services and now you were basically a seasoned vet when it came to entertaining toddlers.

But your friend was a full time stay-at-home mom now and could watch her own adorable, sticky three year old. And now you needed another spot to fill those last bit of monthly bills. So she said there was a new dad at the preschool that seemed like he was struggling. “Struggling”, she said in air quotes. You agreed and asked her to give this new dad your information. Even though you mostly worked with the mothers, money was money.

A few days passed and eventually your phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi. This is Chan. The.. uh.. Dad from Sunnyvale Preschool? I was told you could help me out with babysitting?”

He sounded nervous, or maybe he was just a shy person. Maybe he hated talking on the phone. But did his voice sound sexy? There was a deep, velvety smoothness to the way he spoke. Even between the stutters and pauses. You lingered for a moment, lost in the thought of that voice of his.

“Are you still there?” His voice pierced through your eardrum.

“Shit. Sorry, yeah. I’m here. And yes, I am available. Do you have time this week to set up a meet and greet?” your voice quickly went into customer service mode, knowing exactly what to say, memorizing the script you had made for yourself months ago.

THe two of you agreed on a time and day and said your goodbyes. You took a deep breath and tried to forget the way the sound of his voice made you feel. And you prayed all night that he didn’t look as good as he sounded.

Soon, you found yourself at the front door of Chan’s house. An expansive four bedroom home with one of those driveways that was nearly at a ninety degree angle. The door itself was large with two thin lines of stained glass running vertically down the front. A wooden WELCOME sign layed lazily against the door. A novelty sign you could buy as a last minute purchase at a hardware store. The front door clicked open and Chan stood in the doorway, child on his hip.

“Come on in,” He said warmly, arm gesturing for you to walk inside, “Did you find the place okay?”

Inside was a long staircase leading up to the bedrooms, a chandelier hanging from the top floor and swinging down gracefully into the foyer where the three of you stood. Past the stairs was a long hallway that led to the living room and an open floor plan kitchen. Windows surrounded the rooms in a sunlit blanket that made the whole house seem as if it was holding its arms out to you, embracing you.

The three of you sat down on the sectional couch in the living room. You sat on one end, while Chan and the small child sat together on the other corner. Chan introduced the small girl as Lilly. She clung to Chan tightly, her small, chubby finger gripping onto his shirt as if it were a lifeline. You smiled at Lilly and introduced yourself to her. You held eye contact with only her and asked her about some of her favorite things. You had learned over the years that children appreciated when you spoke to them like you understood them. Like everything they said was important, because to you it was. Lilly lit up and talked excitedly about some of her favorite books, jumping at the opportunity to show you. She ran to her room and hastily returned with a few small books. One was about animals, another was about a tractor that made a new friend. You exclaimed in amazement at Lilly’s amazing books. She was smart and she was quiet, but you could tell she was very well loved.

Chan watched the two of you talk about books and the different noises that animals make. It had been a long time since he had seen Lilly open up to someone so quickly. It made his heart feel full to burst, seeing the way you interacted with his daughter.

“You’re hired.” Chan said as you started to walk out of the door. His sudden decision startled you, usually it took most parents to call a few days after the meet and greet. You smiled warmly at Chan, giving him a firm handshake. The two of you quickly made a schedule of the days you would be working and before you knew it, you were in the routine with him.

Months went by with the three of you falling into this routine. You knew exactly when Chan would get home, you knew the foods that Lilly liked to eat, with her tastes changing by the week. You knew when to have dinner on the table and when to have Lilly in bed. And there was comfort there. A comfort in Chan coming home, in making a meal for him. You loved Lilly, and you couldn’t ignore this role that you were easing into.

“Happy Father’s Day!”

Chan walked in the door to find you greeting him with balloons and a cake on the dining room table. Lilly ran to Chan and squeezed his leg. You stood by the balloons and cake, waiting for his reaction. But for a moment he just stood there. Then, he picked Lilly up, propping her on his hip and walked towards you, embracing you with his free arm. He pulled you in close and whispered a soft thank you against your neck. As he pulled back from the hug, the two of you lingered there for a moment, caught heavily in the tension building thick between you. Later that evening, you walked back downstairs from putting Lilly to bed. You entered the kitchen to see Chan cleaning off the rest of the plates and silverware, blue frosting speckled on forks and spoons alike.

“I hope the cake wasn’t too much,” You spoke softly, moving towards Chan at the sink, “It was Lilly’s idea, she really wanted a cake.”

Chan chuckled softly at the thought of his daughter begging for a cake, with only blue frosting, blue being her current favorite color.

“It was perfect,” Chan stopped washing dishes and turned towards you, “you’re perfect.” Chan slowly moved his hands from the warm sink water, to your waiting waist. His fingers crept along your stomach and landed flush along your back, pulling you close to his body. You gasped at the sudden movement, but your body reacted reflexively to his touch. He took you by the hips and propped you up on the kitchen counter. He moved in towards your legs, spreading them open, making room for him. He gripped your thigh with his large hand and pulled it up and around his waist. Your eyes burned bright at his brazen actions as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss. Chan forcefully glides his tongue into your mouth, letting it graze across your teeth. You let out a soft gasp as you feel his tongue slide inside, sending a shiver up your spine. You open your mouth wider for him, letting your tongues tangle together in a slow, sensual dance. You press against Chan, craving more of his touch, desperate for it.

He lets his hand fall lazily down your chest, then your stomach. He easily unclasps the button of your pants and lets his hand slip inside. The rush of warmth from his hand causes your head to fall back, your back arching at his every movement. A low growl escapes from inside Chan’s chest seeing how responsive you are to his touch. He lets his teeth graze lightly along the skin of your neck while his fingers trace hypnotic circles around the entrance of your cunt. He can feel how wet you already are for him and it causes something feral to happen in his brain. He buries his fingers deeper inside you, the sudden impact and pressure causing you to squirm and squeal pathetically in his strong arms.

A small, faint cry comes from the top of the stairs and suddenly the two of you snap back into parent mode. The sound of Lilly’s tiny voice pushing all other thoughts and feelings aside. The two of you run upstairs to find Lilly in her bed, crying from a nightmare.

Chan melts instantly at the sight of his daughter safely lying in her bed, instantly thinking the worst may have happened. He sits on the bed with her and holds her close. He consoles her and reminds her that dreams cannot hurt her, he reassures her that he is here to protect her. That he will always be here for her. But as he speaks, he looks at you too. He looks at you as if he wanted you to hear what he was saying as well, like he was speaking to you and Lilly. That you were both important to him. As if he wanted to protect you too. And love you too. You gave Chan a small nod, so he knew you understood. You loved him too. And you would protect both of them with your whole heart.

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[claraswritings]

Reader opens a bookshop opposite the Bear. Her and Carmy meet and she holds back cook books for him and he cooks her food 😭

Omg cute 🥰 I put a bit of a twist on this one I hope you don’t mind but blurb btc

No TW just fluff

You’d been in the city for a little over two months when had met him. Carmen Berzatto.

He’d stumbled in, slightly pink in the cheeks looking for a book about a ‘magical pony’.

You’d given him a smile, small and tweaking at the corner of your mouth and pointed off to the colourful section down around a corner

“First display in the kids section. If you get lost it’s directly under the inflatable unicorn”

“Thanks” he ran a hand through a mess of curly hair and took off.

“It’s not for me” he told you when he’d returned with it in hand, some of the glitter from the cover now stuck to his patchwork jacket.

“I’m not one to judge.” You stated matter of factly. Even if it was for him, a grown man buying a unicorn book would not be the weirdest thing you’d seen.

“I promise it’s for…my cousins kid. I mean he’s not actually my cousin…but he’s…”

You looked amused.

“Okay, I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t” you teased as you slipped the pink sparkly book into a bag and handed it over.

“Is this place new?” He asked as if it had just dawned on him this was no longer the carpet shop it used to be and you raised your eyebrows.

“About two months.”

He let out a low whistle and nodded “I’m…Carmen, Carmy…I own erm…” he stopped and gestured out of the window hoping he sounded better out loud than he did in his head.

“The Bear?” You asked and when he tilted his head in confusion “I know. I’ve seen you come and go. It’s a big window.”

He winced even though it didn’t sound like a dig.

“Sorry, I would have said hi sooner, I’ve not…I’ve not been with it. Busy getting ready to re open.”

He winced again. You’d obviously not long since opened too.

“It’s okay” you said in the same way you’d said ‘I’m not one to judge’ and Carmy weirdly liked that. “I had a sandwich there a while back…when I was viewing this place. Maybe I’ll come in sometime.”

The way you said it was genuine. Not in the placid, token sentiment way people said it. You sounded like you mean it

“I’ll, uh, lemme know and I’ll sort you a table.”

****

It went on like this for a little while.

He’d started coming in every few days, mostly following Eva and Richie in.

“Ah, the cousin and his daughter are real.” You’d quipped the first time. “See I held back the new unicorn book thinking this guy was a secret fan…” you winked at Carmy before pausing “Guess I’ll have to give it to this little lady!” You passed Eva over a book which she ran off excitedly with

Richie had given you a nod and a “Thanks sweetheart” before slapping Carmy on the back and following his daughter off to the kids table.

The look he gave Carmy did not go unnoticed by you. Almost as soon as they were out Richie had turned to him with this shit eating grin

“Wonder why you wanted to go in. Real obvious cousin.”

“What? Was I?? Do you think she noticed?” Suddenly Carmy felt about sixteen and awkward again, as he glanced over through the window at you.

Richie clipped him around the head with the book “Just ask the nice lady out, fucko”

***

“Carmy!” You’d grinned when he’d come in a few days later. “I kept you a present”

He raised an eyebrow “Uh, yeah, you mentioned something about…” you paused not wanting to butcher the French pronunciation. “A French evening? At your place?”

You ducked behind the counter and picked up the hardback book, placing it on the counter with a dramatic drop.

“Here.” You pushed it towards him

It was a famous chefs latest book. Full of recipes and inspiration from his upbringing in Marseille and about his three star restaurant in Nice. “This is signed.” Carmy’s eyes widened

“Yes. I know” you tilted your head to the side and watched him flip through it. “Is that like…against some kinda chef code or something.”

“Chef code?” Carmy raised an eyebrow “Like scouts honor?”

You shrugged “I dunno. Just you look confused by the prospect of a signed book.”

“No…it’s just…I can pay for it” Carmy started looking around in his wallet and you raised your eyebrows

“Don’t worry about it”

“Are you sure? It’s signed. This is like having a…book signed by…”

“By him?” You tapped the cover.

“By like…Tolkien or something” Carmy continued “Shit analogy I know.”

“No I get it. He’s like some type of chef Tolkien”

“Yeah.” Carmy nodded

“So he’s good?”

“He’s one of the best. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You know he never signs right? I think he’s uh… like a recluse?” Carmy held up a hand“Hold on okay? I’ll be right back”

Right back was twenty minutes later. He entered holding out a plastic carton

“It’s the… I brought you some?” He ran his hand through his hair wondering if it was weird. “It’s not how I’d usually plate it.”

“I know. Thank you” you said and he noticed your slow reassuring tone and in his mind he heard Richie again, berating him for not asking you out

“Uh next time…How about I don’t bring you food. How about I take you out. Properly.”

“I think I’d like that”

[dianneking]

The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?" 

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop. 

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining. 

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo. 

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again. 

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?" 

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one." 

"But you will read it?" 

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This." 

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?" 

"You'll like it." 

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff. 

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it." 

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?" 

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did. 

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze. 

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?" 

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs. 

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day). 

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!” 

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was. 

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!! 

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side. 

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name! 

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor. 

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course. 

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor  and book fair dates. 

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?" 

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?" 

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months. 

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded. 

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight. 

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you. 

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?” 

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past. 

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go. 

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging. 

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot. 

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay. 

_____

It was not okay. 

It was anything but okay. 

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess. 

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly. 

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad. 

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply. 

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time. 

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to 

GET OUT OF HERE!! 

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?" 

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?" 

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!" 

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this." 

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading." 

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she? 

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–" 

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists. 

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" 

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you. 

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands. 

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?" 

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together." 

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste. 

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy. 

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

It's a date E.S x FEM! Reader

Overture- Working in the paranormal section of the university library wasn't the best job, but the one person who came down there did manage to brighten your day, even with his needlessly formal demeanor.

CWs- Creepy basements, mention of loss of job

A/N- Day 12! Only like a half hour late, too! Need to celebrate the little things, I guess. Also I have no idea why I like Egon with a librarian reader so much. But this is what I imagine Egon was off doing while Peter and Ray were deciding to start the business.

The paranormal section of the university library was your favorite spot to work. Mostly because it was rarely ever visited. Tucked away in the basement, near the files, you could mostly listen to music and do sorting and shelving work. You really weren’t supposed to listen to music while you worked, but who was going to stop you? Your boss didn’t even come down here, he said it was ‘too creepy’. 

Half way through your shift, and your music was as loud as your headphones would allow. It was the only thing keeping you going in the —admittedly creepy— basement for this long of a shift. That was, until you turned around to grab another box of files, and there he was. The only person who came down here with any consistency, Dr. Egon Spengler. 

He wasn’t a teacher; but the university paid him to do paranormal research, so whenever he needed text to supplement his work, he came down to visit you. You wondered why he never sent a lab assistant, but you figured he must just prefer to do it himself. You weren’t expecting him though, so he definitely startled you, standing with perfect posture while carrying an overwhelming stack of books. 

“God! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up, we really need to put a bell on you Dr.Spengler.”

“I told you that you can call me Egon, if you prefer.” It's so hard to try and separate your little crush on him from your work if you call him by his first name, though. Nevertheless, you did want to respect his wishes.

“I know, but you’re so formal I feel like I should address you formally.” 

“Well, thank you.” 

“Of course—Egon.” You nodded your head once to show that you were making the correction. 

“So are you looking for anything in particular? Or just returning?” 

“Just returning these.” He gently set down the stack, which was admittedly impressive. If you’d tried to set them down, it would’ve been a lot–louder. 

“Alright.” You gave him a smile and started grabbing the books one by one to get them checked back in. He could’ve easily put them in the return bin upstairs, it was far less out of the way. But you figured it was the same attention to detail that got him to come pick up his own research materials. 

“So what’re you listening to?” 

“Oh—uh, it’s just my work playlist, I’m really not supposed to have headphones in down here, but it gets so quiet. You’re kind of the only one who comes down here.” 

“Well I promise I won’t tell.” 

“Thanks, Egon, I do appreciate it. If you don’t mind me asking why are you returning all of these anyway? It must be everything you have checked out.”

“Yes, myself along with Ray Stantz and Peter Venkman were fired earlier today. So I had to return the books.” 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! That’s rough, isn’t that like, your whole department?”

“The university is no longer interested in pursuing the furthering of scientific development through the paranormal, I suppose. But Peter and Ray seem to be coming up with a plan for us to continue our research.” 

“Well it’s good that you guys have something, I’m going to miss you down here.”

“Well thank you, I think that this will be the part of this job I will miss the most.” 

“Ok, you’re all set.” He gave you a short nod, and you finally let yourself speak before overthinking. 

“Just one more thing Dr. Spengler.” It was too late to take it back now, your mind had caught up, but you’d already started. You were going to ask him out. 

“Um–I haven’t really said anything just because, I try not to do that for the people who are like, in my workspace, but I–like you. So if you would like to go out for coffee or something sometime, here’s my number.” You handed him a sticky note you scrawled your number on while you were talking. 

“Oh, well thank you. I will definitely do that.” He took the sticky note and left, a little piece of you felt deflated at his reaction, he looked a little confused and once he started to leave he quickly walked back over to the counter.

“You did mean as a date, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh, just a little bit. That was the one part you thought you’d been pretty clear about. 

“Yes, like a date.”

“Alright, good. I’ll call you tonight.” “Cool! I’ll talk to you then.” When he did leave, you were grateful that no one else was there. That way no one could see the little dance party you threw yourself for finally asking him out.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The smooth jazz fills the aisle of the bookstore, a cozy warmth blowing from the vents above as you unwrap your scarf and let it hang loose from your neck. You unbutton the top of your coat, fanning yourself as the nip of winter fades. You tuck your gloves away and hike up your bag, stepping close to see the titles on the spines. The fog's finally gone from your lenses.

You have that one, oh and you already know how to crochet potholders, no you're looking for a challenge. Something different. You need new techniques if you want to keep your Etsy shop alive. You're not struggling... yet.

You pull out a book on how to crochet replicas of different plants; like a cactus or a daisy. You could do little faces on them or do a rainbow of colours. Your mind runs crazy with all sorts of alterations. You open it and flip through the pages, hiding behind the cover as you turn and lean on the shelf.

"Cute," a voice draws the book down an inch and you look down the aisle at the man facing the opposite shelf. He taps the shelf beneath the 'Gardening' sign as he smiles at you, "you know, they got a whole bunch of books about real plants down here."

You bring your brows together and furrow your nose. Who is this strange man judging you? The gall. I mean, look at him. He's a bit too old to be commenting on your interests.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't like to get dirty," you say without thinking. You're not the type to be rude but something about his tone really irks you.

You shift back to face the shelf and close the book. You slide out the other with sweater patterns. Those take so long, you haven't added those to your catalogue. You put it back and adjust your glasses as you pause and tap the book in your hand. Oh, great idea and you don't even need a pattern. You could do book covers and little bookmarks!

"You knit?" The man startles you again as he approaches.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, "crochet, but I can knit too."

"Huh, my mom does too. Tried to teach me but I'm all thumbs. I'm better with plants," he says.

You shake your head and focus on the shelf. You don't get why this guy is bugging you. On first glance, he's got at least ten years on you, maybe more. And why the heck is he bringing up his mom? You don't know her.

"Look, I hope I didn't come off rude, I was just... curious. I've never seen anyone knit a cactus before," he puts his hand on the top shelf.

"Crochet," you correct him again, keeping your chin set ahead of you.

"Yeah, crochet," he chuckles, "sorry, I'm a bit ignorant.”

You bite your tongue. You've heard of older men being a bit much but have lucked out in not being bothered by them. Until that moment.

“Cole,” he offers as he pulls his hand off the shelf, holding it out.

You don't even look. You're too nervous and honestly, annoyed. You want him to go away.

You count your losses. You don't need to splurge on a pile of books. One is fine, you can see if there's anything new on Pinterest.

You turn on your heel and head down the aisle, away from him. You hear him huff as you turn down the next, tempted to stop and look at the Tarot but wanting to get far away. You could probably hide out in the non-fiction section until he evacuates.

As you get to the end of that aisle, you find the book crushed against your front. You bounce off another person and stumble back. You look up at the stranger, Cole. He puts his hands up defenseless and grins.

“Oops, sorry, we keep running into each other.”

“Uh, alright,” you try to sidestep him but he does the same. You both move in the same pattern, back and forth, getting in each other's way, “okay, okay, just stay still.”

He stops and stares with wide eyes. You slowly sidle by, watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything. This is getting too weird for your liking.

You twirl and swiftly march away, hugging the book tight as you try not to trip in your hurry. You're too exposed at the checkout line so you surpass it and flee towards the comic book section. If that doesn't work, the bathrooms are right behind that.

You finally look back again as you get to the graphic novels. You can only see shelves. You're alone in the aisle, grumbling to yourself in agitation. “Creep.”

You take your time wandering, thinking maybe you might be able to get into Batman as you admire the art on each cover. Your adrenaline cools and you feel a bit less addled.

You sneak around the perimeter of the store and find your way back to the craft section. He's gone. Hopefully he went back home to his sad plants.

It's difficult to shake your unease. You pick out some of the needles they have hung with other small accessories and head to the till.

You join the line, your mind already trying to decide what you want to order at the cafe. As you step up, just about to get your turn at the counter, you feel a nudge, a silty voice rolling into you.

“Uh, excuse me,” the timbre is all too familiar.

“Really, dude,” you snap around, “take a hint.”

“You dropped your gloves.”

He holds up your wadded gloves and you cringe. You force a smile and snatch them away. “Thanks,” you grit out.

“Yeah, just being a nice guy,” he shrugs, “trust me, I got the hint.”

He steps back on his heel and turns his attention to the table of pens and other stationary that separate the tills from the rest of the store. You sniff and roll your eyes, quickly flitting up to checkout. The sooner you're gone, the better.

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 6

wc: 2.8k

genre: slowburn, best friends to lovers, painful tooth rotting fluff

pairing: Audrey x Ben, eventual Ben x daughter of alice!reader

warnings: ben's deeply repressed feelings looming ominously in the distance, audrey being an absolute bitch but what's new, op fixing the lore with nail glue and packing tape, Evie is a fucking icon as always

summary: After a long day fighting your way through a mountain of paperwork, you find yourself unable to sleep. Sneaking into ben's room always does the trick. Mal can't find a love spell in her spell book, but she finds something that should work almost as well.

song recs: spring fever - sub urban

a/n: the one thing that pisses me off is that there is no canonical use of love spells in the disney universe outside of descendants. they literally don't exist. genie says no making someone fall in love with someone else. you'd think they would know their own lore /lh

anyway fangz to cici as always (i am so sorry about buggy) and also as always, an optional fit for your viewing pleasure

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

You spend the next several hours by Ben’s side as you bounce between various meetings, and of course, your etiquette lessons that you’ve been attending since you were no older than a twizzleroot blossom.  They're not really etiquette lessons, not anymore. They were when you were young, you would attend a few times a week with all the other kids your age. You’d learn how to drink tea, how to write thank you notes, and all the other things you need to know to feel comfortable in royal high society settings. By the end of middle school, most of your peers were no longer in attendance. 

You and Ben, however, used the opportunity to learn about more and more of the nuanced aspects of politics, social graces, and media training. Your parents were both glad for this, and since you seemed on track to be real politicians and not just socialites, it was a perfect fit. However, saying that you have to go to your class for advanced political studies, world history, social graces, and media training is a little too clunky for your taste. You and Ben never grew out of calling them etiquette lessons, so the name stuck to this day.

On this day in particular, you now find yourself sitting next to Ben at a large table in one of the many makeshift conference rooms on campus. You’ve been in and out of meetings and lessons and debriefings about the Isle kids’ arrival, and now you’ve finally made it nearly to the end of your to do list. Ben insisted you didn’t need to stay late with him to do all this paperwork, but you insisted equally as much that you wouldn’t dream of leaving him to do it all himself. Now as Ben skims the monotonous text, signing on lines and initialing boxes, you dig through a seemingly endless database of forms, trying to find the right one. 

You bounce increasingly obscure form titles back and forth for a few minutes. After coming up with nothing, Ben lets out an amiable laugh. He should have expected something that seems straightforward would take at least ten times as long as it should. That’s government for you, that’s what his dad would say. A knock at the door draws both your attention, and Jane pokes her head in awkwardly. She tucks a section of her dark blunt bob behind her ear, then speaks nervously. 

“Uh, hi. My mom sent me,” she says in a quiet, hesitant voice. “She said she’s going to be about half an hour late. There was a problem with some ducks in the forest, or something?” 

Ben smiles at her politely.

“Thanks, Jane.” Ben says politely. Jane nods and leaves quickly, fussing with her short hair. You let out a puff of air from between your lips.

“Even more delays…” you murmur, clicking onto page 23 out of 66 of forms to look through. “How fun.”

Ben chuckles, agreeing as he stands up to stretch his legs. He walks around for a moment, and turns on an extra lamp. It’s starting to get dark out, and the last thing either of you need right now is eye strain. Wait, it’s already getting dark out? He stops in his tracks.

“Shit.” He mutters, reaching for his phone on the table. He completely forgot about dinner with Audrey, but he has to find these forms and get them filled out tonight. You try not to look like you're listening too closely as the phone rings, but Audrey’s voice is quite hard to ignore. Before he can greet her, she’s already demanding to know where he is and why he’s late.

“No, no. I- I didn’t forget. I… well… uh, no. It’s-” Ben rambles around Audrey’s interjections. He gets up, pacing around a little, and walking across the room away from you. He doesn’t want you to have to hear this. 

“We’re just running behind. No- No! I would never intentionally… stand you up… I-” 

“Right!” Audrey snaps on the other end, forcing a smile. “Well then. Maybe we should just cancel!” 

“Wh- uh, okay. I- I’ll make it up to you. We can… uh, later this week? We’ll - before the next tourney meet? I…” 

Ben sighs and pulls his phone away, looking at the screen. Call ended. He walks back over to the table, sitting down to continue trudging through the task at hand. You wordlessly slide a teacup over toward him, the colorful porcelain filled with warm chai, perfectly sweetened. He cracks a smile, and accepts the cup. 

“Thanks, bunny.” He says quietly. You hum warmly in response. You settle back into your comfortable silence, trudging through forms and digging through documents. As you sit across from each other, the pile of completed paperwork steadily grows taller. Hours pass, and you don’t realize how late it is until you’re finally ready to call it quits for tonight. You stumble through your bedtime routine, grateful that you have your muscle memory to carry you through. As soon as your head hits your soft pillow… nothing happens. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable, then let out an irritated sigh. You managed to get through such a long day and mountains of paperwork, and you still can’t sleep. 

In the opposite wing of the dorms, Ben has no trouble winding down. He’s cozy in his silky royal blue and daffodil yellow sheets, and he’s satisfied with a long day of hard, productive work. He lets out a soft breath, feeling himself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then he hears his door creak open. Soft, muffled footsteps creep across the wood floor, then grow silent as they meet the expansive carpet covering the majority of the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone crouching next to his bed. 

“...Ben?”

He cracks a smile at the sound of your voice, how quiet and tiny you sound in the lateness of the night. You smile a little too when you see him fighting a little grin. After a moment, he answers. 

“Yes bunny?”

“Are you asleep?” You ask carefully. You wait in the darkness for him to answer. 

“Yes.” 

You smile at his sarcastic response, letting out a little breathy giggle through your nose. You kick off your bunny slippers - complete with little tophats - and crawl into bed next to Ben. He’s already scooching over and lifting up the blankets for you, pulling them over your shoulders the way he knows you like. 

He doesn’t need to ask if you couldn’t sleep, he already knows you couldn’t. You’ve been doing this, sneaking in for sleepovers when insomnia gets the best of you, for as long as he can remember. Something about his presence comforts you, relaxes you through even the longest, most never ending nights. No matter how tired he is, he’s always happy to be there for you on nights like tonight, he’s always happy to keep you warm and talk you to sleep. 

And that’s just what he does. He lets you lead the conversation, rambling about whatever springs to mind, emptying out your brain so you can rest. He’d like to think he knows you pretty well by now. He knows just what to do to help you settle down, to give you the best chance of having a restful night. It’s no surprise to him that you mostly seem to be thinking about the Isle kids. 

“I mean, this is real. Our actions mean they get a chance at a better life.” You mutter drowsily. Your cheek is squished against his pillow and your words are heavy with fatigue. Ben can’t help but think it makes your Wonderland accent that much… cuter. 

“Yeah,” He agrees. He traces his hand along your back soothingly. He glances down and notices you’re wearing the white button down shirt you sometimes wear as a pajama top. He asked you about it once, and you said it made you think of him. He smiles a little as he settles back into his pillows.

“I just hope they’ll be able to assimilate well.” You say, a tone of worry now present in your words. “The only thing worse than doing nothing would be having their decisions made for them because of social pressure…” 

“We’ll keep a close eye out for that.” Ben says. His voice is husky and drowsy. It fills you with warmth, with an appreciation for him and the way he stays up with you even though you know how tired he must be. You nod a little, then find yourself rambling again. 

“I just wish there was a way to guarantee that they felt welcome and not… ostracized.” You mumble. You inch closer to him, snuggling into his warm chest and listening to his soothing heartbeat. It speeds up almost imperceptibly as you do.

“Make sure they know that we know them as people. As individuals, and not just…” You continue, cutting yourself off with a yawn. You stretch a little as you do, then curl back up. Ben looks down at you, smiling a little at how sweet you are, at how clingy you get when you’re sleepy. 

“As the children of their parents…” You finish. Ben hums in agreement. He notices how heavy your eyes are getting, how your speech is slowing, how the flow of your thoughts have gone from a fully blasting garden hose to a subtly dripping kitchen sink. You’re about to fall asleep, which means he can let himself sleep too. He couldn’t have gone to bed before now if he wanted to. If he knows you can’t sleep, he won’t be able to either. But feeling your soft breaths across his skin, feeling the way your chest rises and falls as his hand lays comfortingly on your side, knowing that you’re warm and safe here, with him… Ben feels more relaxed than he has in a long time. Probably since… the last time you couldn’t sleep. 

Sometimes when it’s just the two of you like this, all drowsy and late at night, in the moments before he falls asleep, Ben sometimes gets… weird thoughts. Weird, random, impulsive thoughts that are not at all like him. Totally out of left field stuff, like… wanting to kiss you. Like, really, really wanting to kiss you. Sometimes that turns into wanting to hold you, too. And not like this, not holding you platonically, like a best friend, but… holding you a different way. Maybe wanting to hold you tight in his arms, and lay you down in his big, silky bed, and… 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before relaxing his face. He puts a manual stop to that train of thought, absolutely refusing to let it continue anymore. He won’t entertain it, he won’t let it heat up his cheeks anymore. He doesn’t like thinking things like that about anyone, and he certainly won’t let himself think anything like that about you. He sighs softly. These crazy thoughts will be gone by the morning. They always are. They have to be. 

Besides, it’s so late, he won’t even remember this by the time he wakes up. That’s what he always tells himself. The last thing he would never admit to anyone - not even to himself - surfaces right before he falls asleep. It must be the late hour, where everything vulnerable feels completely abstract and intangible, but he thinks it’s a lot easier to stop himself from thinking those things about Audrey than it is to stop thinking those things about you. 

While you and Ben drift off to sleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms, someone else is wide awake. Sitting in the dorm she shares with Evie, Mal sits on her bed, scouring her spell book exactly like she’s been doing since Ben left earlier that afternoon. After hours of hitting brick wall after brick wall, Mal is met with the back cover of the book. Again. She lets out a frustrated noise, and flips back to the beginning.

“There’s not a single love spell in this whole fucking book!” She exclaims. She looks over the first few pages, reading them more closely in hopes that she somehow missed something. Evie sits across the room in front of a lit up mirror, plucking meticulously at her eyebrows. 

“Are we…” She winces, then inspects her skin and eyebrows again. “Are we sure we need a love spell?” 

Mal rolls her eyes at the question. Yes, obviously they need a love spell. Evie is oblivious to her irritation, and continues thinking out loud around her careful use of the sharp tweezers in her hand. 

“I could… just work my charm on him. All it would take is one look into my…” Another wince. “Hypnotizing eyes, and he’d be wrapped around my finger.”

She leans back, taking a final look at her work, more satisfied with her appearance now. 

“I mean, he’s not really my type, but…” she shrugs, and looks at Mal, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Mal doesn’t look up at Evie’s eyebrows, she just keeps digging through her book and ignoring the sound of Carlos and Jay playing videogames.

“No, we need a spell. This has to work. It has to be foolproof.” 

Evie grabs a jade roller and some hydrating gel. She still can’t believe how amazing the makeup and the skincare in Auradon is. She hasn’t seen one half wilted aloe plant, and this gel is infused with roses from Aurora’s moors, glacier water from Arendelle, and caviar fished from the Caribbean. She can’t wait to get her hands on a decent blush, and a lip liner that doesn’t double as eyeliner and an eyebrow pencil. 

Evie notices the scowl on Mal’s face as she hunches over the spell book. Normally she would scold Mal for making faces that will give her wrinkles, but now that she has her hands on retinol, hyaluronic acid, and hydrocolloid patches, she can fix any stress wrinkles Mal brings upon herself. After what feels like an eternity of searching the same pages over and over, something catches Mal’s eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. It’s more of her mothers rambling annotations and scrawled notes, this time on the topic of hypnosis. 

Hypnosis can be useful as long as you’re stealthy with it. Jafar got sloppy, he kept hypnotizing that stupid sultan over and over, not bothering to use hypnosis for it’s true purpose - a means to an end. If you’re an evil genius like I am, and you use hypnosis sparingly, no one will be the wiser. Don’t get me started on that oversized calamari - Ursula has to be the best example of what not to do when you’re hypnotizing a bonehead prince to make him think he’s in love with you. Something as easily breakable as a necklace? Please. Besides, everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

Her mother’s scratchy handwriting goes on for a while, some anecdote about her and Mal’s father, something she’d rather not read. Ever. She thinks back to what Evie said about wrapping Ben around her finger, and in one desperately needed moment of clarity, everything falls into place. A plan begins to form in her mind. 

“This… this could work.” She says. Those three, quietly spoken words get the attention of everyone in the room. Evie sets down her gua sha stone, and Carlos pauses their videogame. They all walk over, hesitant and eager to hear what Mal figured out. Mal lets out a laugh of disbelief. It seems so simple now, she wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner. She can just hypnotize Ben into falling in love with her. She can trick him into thinking that he loves Mal more than he’s ever loved Audrey, then - boom! Front row seats to coronation, which means front row seats to stealing the wand out from under their noses. 

While Mal silently hashes out the details so she can tell her friends, Evie inspects her cuticles. She really should push them back. She stands up, grabbing a cuticle pusher and an orange wood stick from her pencil cup before making her way back over to Mal’s bed. As the three of them wait with bated breath, Mal looks over the hypnosis spell again and again. After a few moments, she tucks a piece of paper between the pages, marking her spell to reference later. She slams the book shut, and looks up at her friends.

“Come on guys. Let’s go bake some cookies.”

[drivinmeinsane]

Crimson Headache

※ Sierra Six x Afab!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You wonder something about Six. Will he allow himself to surrender to what he really wants?

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Smut, Protected Sex, Male breast worship (mild), Wound care, Pet Names, No use of Y/N, Fluff. No use of pronouns for the reader, Not beta read (we just die)

※ Word count: 3,337

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Got too overcome at the sight of Ryan Gosling's tits when he was in the Gray Man. Will it happen again? Probably. This was been sitting in my docs for ages while I poked at it occasionally. So uh... enjoy.

A dog barks in the distance, the sound blending in with the occasional passing car as the noises of the night creep through the open window. The curtains rustle as they get stirred by the crisp, autumn breeze. It’s the perfect kind of night to be tucked into bed under the covers and reading a book by the comforting glow of the bedside lamp. The only way it could be better was if there was a warm body laying beside yours. You were so painfully, desperately lonely in the absence of your companion.

You flip another page of the book you’re holding in your hands. Six had given it to you the evening he was called away on another job. The mission he was recruited for is the kind where he couldn’t disclose any of the details or even take the risk of a phone call while away, secure line or not. As soon as he walked out the door, you would be left in the void of not knowing if he is safe or if he would even be coming back… hence the book. It carries the promise that he will return, that he has to come back so you can talk about what you read in his absence. That was four days ago. You’ve been slowly dragging your way through the chapters. You’ve read sections of the text over and over to savor the meaning of it like a piece of candy melting in your mouth.

You’re so engrossed in the paragraph you’re reading, so captivated in horror along with the characters at the sight of unexplainable creatures moving amongst the branches of willow trees that you don’t see the man in the doorway. Unbeknownst to you, he stands there for a long while, watching the way your lips part and gasp at a newfound twist, the way your face scrunches at a particularly unsettling moment. He savors the sight of you and waits for you to realize that he’s here. Several pages go by, held gently between the pads of your fingers as you turn them, before you pause to reach for the water bottle on your nightstand. You catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure in the corner of your eye. You startle and miss the water bottle, it falls to the floor with a heavy thud and rolls to a stop against the dresser. You’re scrambling, prepared to scream when you realize you recognize the silhouette. It’s Six.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you gasp, falling back on the bedspread. 

There’s a quiet chuckle followed by a decidedly insincere sounding apology. “Sorry, beautiful.”

He doesn’t move any closer, choosing to observe as you mark your place amongst the pages of the book. You set it aside with slightly shaky hands and observe him. You can’t make out any details beyond the circumference of the soft light radiating from the lamp, so you beckon for him to come closer. He hesitates for a long moment before obeying. He moves stiffly but steps right up to the foot of the bed, letting his shins hover mere inches away from the mattress. 

You can’t stifle the gasp that bursts from your mouth at the sight of him. He recoils slightly at the sound but keeps his eyes unwaveringly focused on you. He is a complete and utter mess. His shirt is marred with an impressionist's interpretation of a crime scene. It’s dried to a deep, almost brown, burgundy in the areas where the blood soaked into the fabric. His face isn’t any better. It’s a disaster of wet and dried blood, bruises just beginning to purple underneath the gore. You are on your knees all but immediately, fighting to be at the edge of the bed. Your hands uselessly flutter around him. You’re not sure what parts of him are safe to touch. It’s impossible to be certain what amount of the viscous liquid has come from his own body. 

“I missed you, Six. I missed you so much.” You’re half sobbing in relief that he’s come home to you. Even if he is bloody and bruised. You’ve barely settled your hands on his broad shoulders before he’s on you.

He bypasses your attempts to soothe him, choosing instead to tangle his hand in your hair. He gives it a firm tug to bare your neck to him before mouthing roughly along the column of your throat. You gasp at the sensation. His facial hair feels like fire lapping against your sensitive skin. The hot heat of his mouth only strengthens the comparison. You yield to him willingly as he manhandles you. A whine escapes you when his teeth nip a little too hard on your delicate flesh. He’s so gentle and tender with you outside of the handful of sexual encounters you’ve shared that it always shocks you how aggressive he is in bed. He seems at his most relaxed when he’s simply spending time with you or letting you roughhouse him, but when it comes to sex… he’s as strangely stilted and tense as he is now, almost as if he’s working his way through a script. It hasn’t seemed that he finds much pleasure for himself outside of the moments when he’s working his mouth between your legs. He never quite manages to look you in the face either while he permissibly degrades you. You wonder…

“Hold on.” He is busy biting a mark into your collarbone and muttering something about you being a good girl for him. The hand not intertwined with your hair has made its home around the base of your throat. The hold is threatening to become a hard press into your esophagus. “Six, wait a second.”

The agent instantly withdraws and the look he gives you is wary. He looks like a scolded dog. You cup his face and rub a gentle thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. He relaxes into your hold, pressing his face into the warmth of your palm. The desperation of being needed, of being touched, is rolling off of him in suffocating waves. It only furthers your growing suspicions about him.

“Do…” you bite your lip, bringing your other hand up in the vain attempt to brush his hair off his forehead. It had tumbled loose and gotten caught up in the blood on his face. You’re sure that there will be streaks of it along your own skin. “Do you even like this kind of sex?”

He goes rigid against you, wrongfooted. “I like pleasing you.” 

“Baby, that’s not what I'm asking. Do you like being rough?” You question, hesitation slowing your words. 

“Honestly? No.” The blunt confession is given as though dragged out of him, kicking and screaming. There’s a vaguely ashamed expression lingering in his eyes. 

“Why do it?”

He’s silent for so long, you almost think he’s never going to respond. “I thought it’s what you wanted. Anyone else has wanted me to be… a certain way. Told me it’s how I should be. Do you not like it that way?”

“I like you in any way you want to give yourself. I just want you to be comfortable and feel good too,” you say sincerely. 

He looks stunned by your admission. Six’s life has been nothing but molding himself into the ideal aggressor. There’s no room for softness or vulnerability, not when he is supposed to remain impartial, unattached . His hands are meant for causing harm. As he has said in the past; he was taught how to hurt people, not how to care for them. He shifts uncertainly in place, processing your words. 

“I see.” It’s said without conviction.

You let out a soft sigh and stroke the crease that’s formed between his eyebrows. His marginally relaxes under your soothing touch. The injured man allows you to give him a chaste kiss. 

“Let me take care of you for once, baby. Please,” you plead.

There’s a moment where you can see him warring with himself but he relents. Six surrenders to the deeply buried desire to be looked after, to be treated as something more than a tool. He allows you to take his much larger hand in yours and lead him into the bathroom.

He looks worse under the bright lights. The shock of red liberally coating him is stark against the white walls and fixtures. You ignore the bile fighting to rise in your throat at the sight and focus on gently extracting him from his shirt. His stomach warms the backs of your fingers while you slowly peel the soiled material away from his skin. He twitches slightly when you graze his side. You suck in a sympathetic breath when you realize why. His flesh is a mottled crime scene of bruising from his armpit to his lowest rib. You help him ease the destroyed shirt over his head. Despite himself, he lets out a pained grunt at raising his arms. It gets tossed to the side the moment he’s free of it.. His trousers are a much simpler affair, one that you’re able to leave him to handle while you turn on the shower. 

His touch against your lower back is a welcome surprise. He pulls you against his chest, hands coming to rest on your stomach. He’s fully naked and blazingly warm against your back even though the cotton of the shirt you’re wearing. 

“Raided my closet?” He questions softly against your ear. The sensation of his breath sends an involuntary shiver through your body.

“I missed you,” you remind him. 

“I missed you too,” he confesses. 

He works his bloodied hands, with their split knuckles, under the fabric of the borrowed shirt covering your body. Soon, you’re stepping out of your underwear and pulling him under the warm spay with you. He groans appreciatively at the feeling of the water hitting his back. You spend your time with him, taking the utmost care when rubbing the shampoo into his scalp. The frothy water is tainted red on its journey to the shower drain. There will be a red ring around the edge of the tub that will need to be scrubbed away tomorrow, but for right now, your main concern is the man melting underneath your hands. By the time you’re rinsing him off underneath the showerhead, he’s stooped over in order to press his face into the crook of your neck. His arms are looped tightly around you, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other gripping the softness of your hip.

“You don’t have to pretend to be anything you aren’t, you know… Not with me,” you murmur. He nods. 

You turn off the water, careful not to jostle him in the process. He peels himself off of you, avoiding making eye contact. There’s insecurity written across his face and it only grows when you encourage him to sit on the edge of the tub. You gently towel dry him, letting him guide you into standing between his spread knees with his hands on your sides. He rubs circles into your skin while you tend to his injuries. You’re thankful  that it’s nothing too terrible. Most of the blood hadn’t been his, but there is a sizable, abit shallow, gash in his hairline that requires the careful application of liquid bandage. There’s little you can do about the bruising. You hold Six’s face in your hands while you wait for the adhesive to dry, brushing your thumbs over the coarse hair of his goatee.

“All done?” He asks. The look in his blue eyes is tender, but there is a glint of something else swimming in the depths.. 

“Mmhm,” you affirm. 

He kisses you, brushes his tongue against the seam of your lips. You open for him eagerly. This is a different kind of possession than the kind he had shown you earlier. It’s not domineering, he’s not rigid and wooden underneath your hands. There’s no push and pull. It’s merely two bodies interlinking. You return Six’s interest. You weave your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. A low groan rolls through him. It’s enough for you to encourage the man fully up onto his feet, to walk him blindly into the bedroom and to the bed. Your bodies jostle together, naked and damp. He lays down on the bed at your behest. He allows his body to unwind against the yielding surface. He’s a vision in the warm light. Drops of water are beaded on the miles of his skin and it’s taking every scrap of your self-control not to consume him. To lick and bite at him until there’s nothing remaining but the memory of him on your taste buds. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” You ask, moving to kneel beside him on the mattress. A shudder runs through him at your proximity. He nods, eyes lidded. He’s fully allowing you to take control of this situation.

You press your mouth against his, once, twice. Priming him for your next movements. He responds to your attention with a hitch of his breath. You cradle his jaw in your hand, grounding him as you make your way down his neck to his ample chest. He’s never let you touch him like this before during sex. He’s always captured your attention with his own actions. Never mind how his own orgasms seemed forced while he was blowing your mind. 

His hands shoot to your shoulders when you swirl your tongue around his nipple, gripping hard enough to leave the imprints of his fingers branded into your skin. You pause, letting it pebble between your lips. His grip loosens marginally and you suck gently. The noise he makes is loud enough to wake the dead. It’s an unconstrained growl and his body twists and bucks. Encouraged, you lap at the sensitive skin. It grows swollen and hard at your attention. You drag the hand from his face down to his unoccupied pec. You knead the tissue for a moment before rolling that nipple between your fingers. His chest is heaving under your exploratory teasing. You pull back to observe the effect you’ve had on him. His eyes are focused on you, and his mouth is open slightly, panting. His facial hair does little to conceal his flushed state. You cast a glance downward and he’s starting to get hard. 

You skate your hand down his stomach, savoring the way his muscles flex under your fingers. You take his cock in hand, earning another low moan. He’s huge in your grasp. You can’t quite encircle him within the ring of your index finger and thumb. You leisurely stroke him. He throbs in your hold, a warm trail of precum drips from his tip, pooling against the side of your hand. You give him a light squeeze before taking your hand away.

You slide it between your own legs, quickly gathering up the slick at your entrance before you ease a finger inside yourself. Six rolls over to watch you. He audibly swallows at the sight of your pillowy thighs wrapped around your wrist as you open yourself up to take him. You bite back a moan of your own as you sink three fingers home, spreading them increasingly wider. Six is a big man, he’s going to stretch you deeper and wider than you can reach, but at least you can prepare the way for him. You pull out of yourself, the sound is obscenely wet. He reaches for you, intent on taking over. The desire to fuck into you with his much larger digits is written all over his face, but you stop him. 

“I want to cum on your cock.” The admission strikes him dead in his tracks. 

He lets you rummage in the nightstand drawer for protection. You can feel his gaze on you like a physical weight. You find what you were looking for and turn back to him. You press a hand against his shoulder and push Six down onto his back again. He holds himself still, muscles trembling with the effort of not rutting up into your hand while you unroll a condom over his erection. 

You swing a leg over him and pause, hovering over him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is thick, low with arousal.

You line the tip of him up with your opening and brace your hands on his chest. He watches you raptly while you ease down on him. The stretch burns as your body accommodates his girth. You gasp as you fully seat yourself on him. He’s fully sheathed inside of you. You sit for a moment, letting your body get used to the way he fills you. You use the hands on his chest to push off, settling into a steady rhythm. Both of you are letting out noisy gasps. He clamps his hands over your thighs, drags his eager touch to the backs of them. He’s using his grip as a support for your movements. Any tension that he’s had in him during previous encounters with you is gone. He’s wholly enthralled, clearly engaged. There’s nothing being forced here. 

“Touch yourself, please,” he pants out. 

You can’t refuse him when he asks so nicely. You reflexively clench down around him when your fingers find your clit, He groans at the increase of pressure. It’s wet, sloppy. Your fingertips occasionally make contact with his dick as you ride him. You’re soaking him. You can only begin to imagine the mess that would be pooling at the base of his erection if he weren’t safely encased in a condom. 

You collapse forward on top of him. Letting him hold you up and drive his hips against you while you circle your clit with frantic fingers. You’re close, so close. Your mouth finds its way to his chest. You suck a mark into the yielding tissue, a hint of your teeth has him letting out a strangled grunt. You speak between the presses of your mouth to his pec. 

“I’m yours.” He makes a sound, low, broken. “I’m yours, Six.”

His grip on your thighs turns bruising. His handprints are going to linger on your skin for days. You’ll feel the phantom of his touch with every step. He’s marked you muscle deep.

“Stay with me,” he begs. There’s a wild desperation on his face and you realize that he means permanently, that he wants you with him indelibly. You’re not just some temporary outlet for him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. You’re his for as long as he wants you. You’d let him be your forever. 

At your words, he moves his hands from your plush thighs and digs his fingers into your hips. The man underneath you grinds you down against his pelvis as he cums. His cock spasms inside you, sudden heat making itself known. It’s enough to push you over the edge. You seize up around him, milking him dry. You sit up and withdraw your cramping hand from between your legs. You rest, thighs relaxing from their chokehold against his flanks. Six is watching you, trying to catch his breath. The expression on his face is slightly awed, vulnerable. He looks hopelessly, helplessly in love with you.

He softens and you ease yourself off of him, letting him slip free. With shaky legs and clumsy hands, the two of you clean up in the bathroom. You steady the agent as needed and he uses the excuse to press close to you. Necessities out of the way, you help Six back into bed. You pull the blankets up over him and he flips over to pillow himself against you. You spread your hands over his back, tracing aimless circles over his warm skin. You massage a thick ridge of scar tissue that disrupts the smooth topography of his shoulder blades, he sighs in contentment. 

“How was the book?” His voice is sleepy, relaxed. 

[bebe-writes-stuff]

PLEAAAASE WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT BAJI AGAIN!! the last one was amazing 🌹

You stared at the multiple letters you had stuffed in your drawer, not sure how long it's been since this all started, a couple months probably. It all started that one afternoon, you found something jammed in your locker. After Struggling to open your locker, you found a neat light pink envelope. Your heart skipped a beat at the heart-filled letter inside the envelope, it was a love confession. You were surprised to say the least, but what you hadn't expected is that the next day, at the same time, you found a different letter but the same light pink envelope. This time, there was a snack with the letter. A smile tugged on your lips as you finished the last sentence of the letter,

"P.S. I know you missed lunch because of your mathematics exam, I got you a snack. I hope you enjoy them! <3"

You somehow felt safe, instead of creeped out or nervous. It felt as if someone was looking after you, making sure you've eaten and stayed hydrated. That snack turned into more and then into straight up gifts, whether it was a new pair of headphones because yours broke, a new book you've been wanting to read, or a cute stuffed animal with a small note as,

"This reminded me of you! <3"

It was the highlight of your day. Time after time, you hadn't realized that you'd fallen in love with a totally mysterious person. Suddenly, it was Baji's turn to be surprised when he was placing the-who-knows-what-number pink enveloped letter in your locker, when he noticed you had left it open this time instead of him having to bust it open like all the other times. He was going to place his letter, when he found a light blue envelope. In neatly written letters,

To whoever continues to give me those pink enveloped letters <3

Baji snatched the letter, he glared at it hard. Were you gonna tell him to leave you alone and not bother you any longer. He swallowed the lump in his through before gently opening the light blue envelope. He hated how you flustered him when you wrote how you appreciated and loved everything he has done for you and wanted to meet him more than anything. That caught him off guard...you wanted to meet him. Did you know it was him? No way, he made sure he was the sneakiest he could be. But even if you did meet him, would you love a dangerous and wild delinquent like him, also no way. He stuffed the letter in his pocket before remembering his reason for being here. He put the letter in your locker before the school bell rang, conveying the end of the school day. He left before anyone could catch him standing at your locker. That's how it was for the next few weeks that turned into months. You left your locker open in the morning after placing your light blue enveloped letter and waited for the pink enveloped letter in the afternoon. That's how you would say "communicated". It was late at night, you were running back and forth in your room looking for more blue envelopes. You had run out and forgot to get some, little did you know someone was also dealing with a similar problem.

Dammit, I ran out of envelopes. I gotta go to the store.

Dammit, I ran out of envelopes. I gotta go to the store.

You were surprised the store was still open at this hour. You didn't waste time, heading straight to the envelope, letters, and gift cards section in the store. You weren't alone. Your eyes scanned over the shelf until you found it.

"Ah, there they are."

You reached out for the blue envelopes only to bump into someone else's hand reaching for a similar envelope as well. You gasped and took a few steps back before lowering your head a little.

"O-oh sorry about that."

FUCK, WHY SHE HERE RIGHT NOW?!

He froze once he realized what truly happened. He couldn't utter a single word. You looked up at him, before tilting your head to the side,

"Uh, are...you ok-"

You also froze once you saw the similar envelope in his hands. You glanced at the envelope in your own and before looking at his again.

Oh, he came for envelopes too...pink ones.

"um, sorry again."

You felt a little nervous under his gaze but you turned around and tried to ignore how he eyed you down. You head to the cashier to pay for the new set of envelopes,

"Is that all for tonight?"

"Yeah, thank you."

You sunk into your bed unable to sleep though. The interaction with the boy at the store never once leaves your mind. That was Baji Keisuke. He acted like a nerd at school...well, he never really got good grades, he just looked like that part. But outside of school, he was a known delinquent. He was violent and wild. This was your first time seeing him outside of school. The pink envelopes he was holding, could it be? No, no, someone like Baji couldn't have a soft spot. It was simply just a coincidence that he was there, at the same store, at the same hour, at the same aisle, wanting the same thing. You could lie to everyone else, just not yourself. You rolled out of your bed and headed to your drawer.

Now, back to where we were. You were staring at the piles of letters in your drawer. The letters were from none other than Baji Keisuke. Now that you knew, you couldn't help but think about all the little details he shared about himself. His best friend, now that you know, he must've meant Chifuyu. The cat that sneaks onto his balcony, Peke J. Were you going to go to school and face him! After all the embarrassing facts you told him, your secrets, your everything! You'd rather die.

"Fucking hell Chifuyu, she found out AND in the dumbest way ever. She hasn't come to school for like a week also."

"It's okay Baji, Just try and focus on this meeting and get your mind off things for a little bit."

He couldn't focus on the meeting or anything for the past week. It had gotten so bad, even his mother was worried. He wanted to tell you in a proper way that it was him writing to you all the time, he wanted a proper way for you to know his fat crush on you. Baji snapped out of trance when he heard Draken's loud shout,

"THIS MEETING'S DISMISSED."

It's over this quick, damn I didn't pay attention to shit.

"Oh, also Baji, there was this girl asking about you before you came tonight. I think she's actually waiting for you down in the parking lot.

"WHAT?! DAMMIT, CHIFUYU WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?! SHE'S IN THE PARKING LOT DAMMIT! IT WAS YOUR IDEA WRITING HER LETTERS, HELP ME BITCH!"

"Wait what?"

Draken was confused to say the least.

"BAJI, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I AM SORRY! M-MAYBE TRY TALKING TO HER?"

It was a shouting match between the both while everyone stared confused, but they both failed to realize that you heard them from the parking lot and had made your way to the shrine and facing the both of them. Well, Chifuyu noticed first and when he did, all the color drained from his face and he look like he was going to pass away, his last thoughts were

Baji's gonna kill me, Rest in peace me...

"Huh, why'd you look like that? Who's behind m-"

He turned around only to be met with the same fate as Chifuyu. He let him go and stared at you with a nervous expression only to shock everyone watching. Baji, The first division captain of Toman, is nervous because of this girl. A heavy cloud of awkwardness fogged the air between the both of you. You approached first before pulling out a neat stack of pink enveloped letters tied with also a pink ribbon.

"T-these...they're yours aren't they?"

You were flustered and your voice barely audible, you were standing in front of your all-time-crush. He looked away and scoffed,

"Yeah! So what if they're mine, I'll leave you alone if you want...I know you don't wanna mess with any delinquents and that type of shit. Why'd you come here anyway? If this is some prank from you corny ass friends I swear I am gonna-"

"Ohmygosh you talk a lot, just shut up."

You pulled him with both your hands cupping his face into a deep unpredicted kiss, It was almost his instinct to pull you closer. One hand pulled you in with a hug while his other hand found its way to its neck pulling you gently by your throat, wanting more of your lips, that tasted oh so good with your strawberry flavored Chapstick. You pulled away when you both needed a breath of oxygen. Your eyes locked, it was an unexplainable attraction that you both had for each other, it was a spark that you felt, all the way from the night you saw him at the store until now. It was a spark that flickered more and more the closer each step you took towards him until it fully flared when you pulled him into such a sensual kiss.

"Regarding your last letter. Yeah, I'd love to go out with you. <3"

-I'll write a part 2 w/ smut if you guys want, let me know please!

[letstevengrantsleep]

Part Five

Previous part / Next part

Eddie Munson x reader slow burn

part summary: an unexpected encounter leaves you confused

word count: 1,092

warnings: none

a/n: I promise this all comes to a head in the next part, I actually have it already written and it will be published REALLY SOON after this one, it's in my drafts ready to go!!

main masterlist series masterlist

The morning sun filters through the large windows of your quaint bookshop, casting a warm glow over the rows of neatly arranged books. You stand behind the counter, fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of a well-worn novel. You thoughts drift back to the conversation with Eddie last night. You've never felt so understood, so calm considering the whirlwind you've found yourself in.

The bell above the door chimes, pulling you away from your reverie, and as you look up you see a tall, lanky man with tousled brown hair and a curious expression on his face. You watch as he wonders through the isles, eyes scanning the titles with an interest that you can't falter. You wait for a moment before shimmying out from behind the counter, careful to avoid the piles of books waiting to be priced up, and approach him with a very customer-friendly smile.

"Can I help you find anything?" you ask, voice gentle.

As the man turns round, a friendly smile spreads across his face. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for something new, definitely fantasy. Do you have any recommendations?"

Your eyes light up, "oh my God of course, fantasy is my favourite genre."

You lead the man to the fantasy section and talk him through a few options before leaving him to it, returning back to the counter to actually start on the teetering pile of books stacked on the edge, logging each one and pricing it individually. A tedious task at best.

"This is a beautiful shop, how long have you had the place?" The man asks, eyes flicking down to the 'manager' badge pinned wonky on your shirt, reading your name off the tag before smiling back up at you. "I'm Rob." He introduces himself, awkwardly holding his hand out for you to shake. It's endearing. Cute.

"About three years," you smile, "I adore this place, it was a lot of work but, uh," you take the books off him and price up, mumbling to yourself as you manually add up the prices, "it's been my dream since I was a kid." You smile again.

"Wow", Rob nods, impressed, "that's amazing. Not many people get to live out there dreams like this."

As you chat, Rob's mind begins to piece together a few fragments of the conversation he's having with you with something else he's encountered this week.

"Wait," Rob says slowly, his brow furrowing. He repeats your name back to you, "that's your name?"

"Yeah..?" You respond, curiosity and confusion painted across your face.

You watch as Rob hesitates, choosing his next words carefully. "I think I know you. Or, no." He shakes his head. "I know of you. You're Jake's ex, right?"

As quick as it came, your expression fades into a look of guarded surprise. "You know Jake?" You can't help but feel on edge, you're not entirely sure how Jake will be retelling the story of your breakup. You can't imagine for a second that it will make you look good.

Rob sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Jake and I were friendly a while back but we lost touch. I remember him mentioning a girlfriend that owned a book shop." He takes a moment and you watch as his face contorts into something uneasy, "I'm sorry for bringing him up, I don't want to make things awkward. I heard he didn't handle things well."

You shake your head, "No, it's okay. It was rough but I'm moving forwards, I think that's all I can do at this point."

Rob nods, his eyes filled with empathy. "If you ever need someone to talk to or just to hang out with," he digs around in his pocket for a scrap of paper and gestures to borrow your pen, "I'm here. I know we don't know each other well but, uh," he hands you a scrap with a number scribbled down onto it, "I want to help if I can."

You feel a warmth spread across your chest. "That means a lot, thank you."

-

Your mind is still buzzing from your encounter with Rob as you make your way back to Steve's house, not feeling like you want to be on your own right now. The evening air is cool, the sky painted with hues of orange and pink, feeling apt as emotions mix in your stomach leaving you with an uneasy feeling.

As you arrive you find Eddie sitting on the sofa inside, fiddling with papers and tobacco as he rolls himself a cigarette. He looks up with a frown which immediately melts into a smile as you approach him, slumping down onto the other sofa as you huff, the weight of another day slowly sliding off your shoulders.

"Hey sunshine," Eddie jokes, "I would ask how your day went but I've got a feeling I know what the answer will be." He smiles wide, licking the cigarette paper to seal it, rolling it between his fingers before propping it behind his ear.

You look towards him then up to the ceiling, huffing as you sink further into the sofa cushions. "It was okay. Interesting. I met someone new, someone who knew Jake." His name sounds foreign on your tongue, weird to say even after just one day. "Some guy called Rob," you continue as Eddie stays silent, leaning forwards as he listens to you.

Eddie's brow furrows slightly, "he give you any trouble?"

It's a valid question, and as you shake your head it does nothing to ease Eddie's nerves. "No, he was actually really nice. He apologized for how things ended with Jake and gave me his number. Told me to call him if I want to hang out, or talk..." Your voice trails off as you realize the connotations behind what Rob had said in the shop. Are you being to optimistic, thinking that Rob really did just want to be there for you?

"You sure you can trust him, sweetheart?" Eddie tries, regretting the pet name as soon as it leaves his mouth, but he can't help it.

You shrug, "I don't know. It was strange at first but he seemed genuine. I suppose I'm just trying to figure out if I can trust him"

Eddie fights back the urge to reach out and place a hand on your knee. "It's okay to be cautious. Probably a good thing to be honest. You've been through shit, one step at a time for the foreseeable, yeah?"

You nod, thankful for Eddie's support. "Yeah, exactly. One step at a time."

Taglist

@sapphire4082 @twirls827 @bewr0210 @maskofmirrors @saramelaniemoon @halialex1119 @mugloversonly

[fandxmslxt69]

Cute Library Boys

Steven Grant x f!Reader

Warnings: Steven being too goddamn cute and fluff!! Some swearing, absolutely tooth rotting dorky-ness.

A/N: Oh my god this has been sitting in drafts for so long but I finally finished editing ahahah. Idk how I feel about it ngl, its cute and has me giggling but !!!! idk. Anyway this IS inspired by a prompt: "Going for the same book at the library" taken from @creativepromptsforwriting (Mona sent me a prompt list literally like 2 months ago thank you @whatthefishh you are too cute for this world.) ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY this is a peace offering before I pour my heart out into the most gut wrenching angst and coochie killing smut <3

-Clem

Synopsis: All you wanted was to have a quiet day browsing books in the library. Who knew you'd manage to find the cutest man to spend your day with right there in the history aisle?

Word count: 3541 (omg.)

Walking through the library, you gently ran your finger over the spines of the book, feeling worn out paper and leather on your fingertips. It was always relaxing, being surrounded by so many stories, real or not, lives and adventures. You skimmed through a history section, looking for a book that might be of interest, and your eyes landed on one just up ahead, with a pretty spine and a title written in gold. Your fingers jumped to it, but bumped with another hand outstretched to grab it.  “Oh sorry, love! Didn’t see you there,”  “Oh no it’s alright!” You grinned up to the cute man with the cute British accent. “You can have the book, I don’t mind,” “Oh no,” He shook his head.  “Really, you can take it,”  “No it’s fine, really, I can just order another from the system,” He grabbed the book off the shelf, handing it to you. “Love, please. I’ve already read it anyway. It’s all yours,” He smiled, a bright breathtaking smile that lit up his whole face.  You hesitated but took the book from his hand, adding it to the (very heavy) bag you carried. “Memorised and all?” He chuckled. “I wish,”  You grinned at him, and an awkward silence fell as you scanned the rest of the shelf. “Uh,” You cleared your throat. “Anyway. Thank you, a lot, for-” “The book,” He finished. “Yes! The book. Thank you,”  He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing.  “Alright well uh…I’ll, go, thank you, again,” You rushed to say before quickly dashing off, trying not to think about how pretty he was, or how soft his eyes looked, or his beautiful curls, his soft yet clear features…

No. 

You weren’t sure what the hell urged you to turn right back around and down the aisle again, but your feet carried you there anyway, and you found yourself standing right in front of the gorgeous stranger again. “Um. Hi.” You mumbled. Maybe he didn’t hear, maybe you could run be- “Hi! You’re back,” He grinned and you could feel the sunshine radiating off of him.  “Yeah. Um..I don’t know I just…yknow…You seem to know your books,” You gestured to the growing pile by his feet. “So I was just..wondering if you had any recommendations? I’m in a bit of a slump, so I wanted to try something new. I mean only if you’re cool with it, if I’m bothering you I’ll just go-”  He laughed, a quiet small chuckle that put a huge ass sappy smile on your face. It was contagious, his bubbly energy and cute laughs and smiles. “No it’s alright love, I’d be more than happy to give you a few suggestions, though it might just turn out to be a big ramble,” You shrugged. “Nothing beats a good book ramble,” “Wholeheartedly agree. Now,” He turned to the shelves, his soft eyes scanning the spines of the dozens of books, and he just started rambling- exactly like he said he would. On and on and on, grabbing a few books at a time and talking about them all at once, he looked over the moon to share all this knowledge with someone, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you could barely keep up with him. You just stood there watching him, probably grinning like an idiot, adding every book he put down to the growing pile in your bag. Whether the book was actually interesting or not, you didn’t care. When a cute man excitedly tells you about his favourite books in an aisle in the library, you grab every damn one of those books and you take them home. 

By the time he finished going through at least a dozen books, he paused, biting his lower lip to hide a shy smile. “Sorry. Got carried away there,” 

Ah shit.

“No no! It’s okay, no apology needed at all. You- it’s cute. You’re cute. When…you do the ramble thing. Cute. Yeah.” You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up.  There was a beat of silence, before he blurted out, “Steven.” “Sorry?”  “Steven…my name. Is Steven. Grant. Steven Grant. It kind of just hit me that I didn’t introduce myself,”  “Oh. Oh! Oh right. Oh my god.” You fumbled with your bag, trying to get yourself back in control. “This is embarrassing. I’m so sorry. I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you Steven,” He laughed again. “It’s very nice to meet you too,”  You nodded. How many times are you going to nod. Quit it.  “So…um,” you cleared your throat, wondering if it was too late to ask for a hole to open up and swallow you whole. “Yknow..there’s um…this cafe, right down the street, and it’s really nice and they’ve got pretty decent coffee and food. I was wondering if…you know, if you’re free anyway, and not too busy or if you have something better to do I totally get it-” “I’d very much like to go to the cafe down the street with you,” Steven interrupted, and you stared at him, jaw hanging open slightly as you took in his shy smile and the light rose of his cheeks.  “I mean, if that’s what you’re asking-” He rambled quickly to add. “Yes! Ah, uh, yes, that is what I’m asking,” You grinned widely, cheeks starting to hurt from how damn much you were smiling at this cute stranger in the history aisle of your local library.  “Great! Wonderful, amazing. I- uh…I’ll…go check out my books? Get settled while you do yours and…” “...we can meet by the front doors?” You finished for him. He nodded quickly, his hair bouncing with each bob of his head. You nodded too, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Okay. Okay cool. I’ll…go do my thing. And I’ll see you soon?” “Yes, absolutely, 100% yeah,”  You chuckled, a few butterflies taking flight through your stomach with all his nervous blabbering.

He’s cute. Real cute, with the nicest warm eyes and a precious crooked smile, and the cutest mop of curls on his head that you desperately wanted to play with. Not to mention his adorable outfit..the cute earth brown pants and the soft sweater that definitely hugged his body in a comfy yet pleasing way. 

Screwed. Absolutely, royally screwed. 

After awkwardly staring (analysing) him for a solid minute as he grabbed the rest of his books, you turned and dashed to the check out desks, fumbling and mumbling about stupid cute library boys the entire way through the checkout process. 

*                                           *                                          *

As you both left the library, a light silence falling between you, he couldn’t help but take a few glances at you, his heart picking up pace, a giddy laugh building up in his throat- this was new. All of it was so new yet welcomed. He’d be damned if he let it go to waste, whether it be a chance to make a friend, or maybe a little more. 

By the time you had reached the shop, his shoulder ached from carrying his bag of books, and you looked ready to drop dead on your feet. 

“I can carry your bag if it’s getting you tired,” Steven suggested softly as you entered the cafe. You frowned, hugging your bag tightly to you. “What, no. It’s okay, I like carrying my bag. Makes me feel close to my books,” You pointed to a table by the window. “Here?” He laughed, then nodded. “Yeah this works,” He took a seat, lifting his bag off of him and placing down beside him. “What do you like to read anyway?” “Oooh,” You slid into the seat, you could feel the ache in your lower back start to build. Who even had back problems at this age. “I like a good fantasy novel, and I am guilty of reading way too much romance. I also like poetry. Not a very big person in non fiction though.” “Romance huh?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. “Scandalous romance?” You laughed, shrugging. “What, a woman has her needs, and those needs happen to be pretty men with cute accents,”  “Ah right,” He nodded again, then paused. “Wait. I have an accent,” You chuckled, smiling widely. “Yes you do. A cute one too. And you’re cute. Pretty, dare I say,” His eyes widened, a blush creeping up his neck and his ears started turning red too as he looked away, averting his eyes and biting at his lower lip. Your heart did a little flip at how cute he looked when he was flustered.  “What kinda books do you like, Mr. Grant?”  “Hmm,” He flipped aimlessly through the menu, his eyes scanning the millions of different ways they make frappuccinos and espressos. He didn’t even drink coffee that much, he was more of a tea guy. “I like history, big fan of mythologies and stuff,”  You sat up, grinning widely. “I love mythology. I was a huge sucker for them in middle school. Still kinda am, honestly,” His heart did a little thing. “Really? What kind of mythology?” You shrugged. “I was really into the Greeks, they were pretty fun and it was a good time. I like the Romans a bit too, but they’re a little boring, yknow? The Norse are wack too, which makes it funny,” You grinned. “I was just a bit obsessed. I had an Egypt phase too for quite a bit,”  You could see the way his face lit up, how his eyes widened and a big smile started spreading across his face. “Egypt huh? That’s cool.” He nodded, deciding not to make a further comment lest it come off as too strong. You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Oh come on, you totally had an Egypt phase,” “Did not!” “You so did. C’mon, tell me. I promise I won’t judge! I never could, I had attachments to those guys. You definitely know a thing or two,” He waved you off. “No..I mean, a little maybe. I’ve studied their mythologies and tales, aspects of culture and society, that’s sorta stuff, it’s not interesting really,” “Not interesting?” You scoffed. “Well I find them interesting. C’monnnn,” You nudged his leg under the table. “Who’s your favourite god?” He shook his head, a playful smile on his face. “I’m fond of Taweret. Hippo goddess, resides in the underworld and stuff. She’s nice,”  “Yeah? Know her personally?” “Oh yeah, obviously. We have chat over tea all the time,”  No way he was this funny. “Really? Wait, hang on,” You leaned in, “if she resides in the underworld, does that mean you’ve died before, Steven Grant?”

He liked it, he decided. The way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue and out of your mouth so easily, and not the sarcastic way everyone else said it. Heaven, at least you remembered his name, not when half the staff at the old museum couldn’t even get Steven right.  He scrunched up his face, thinking deeply. “Hmm. Let’s see. I think I might have, yeah. A few times now actually,” There it was again, the laugh that filled the entire cafe, as your shoulders shook and you threw your head back in joy. “No way, you did not,” You finally said.  “I absolutely did! It’s not a good experience obviously, but yknow, an adventure,”  “So you’ve like- met Osiris and stuff?” He shrugged. “Maybe,” “Oh come on. Tell me! I’ve always liked him. Given, I always like every death god, so it’s no different,” “He’s alright. Very stiff though, no personality at all, he’s all business serious,” “Well duh, he’s a king,” Steven rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean he’s got to be so boring,”  You chuckled again, shaking your head in disbelief as you went back to the menu. “Any other gods you’ve met?” “Hmm.” He tapped his chin a few times, and brushed a curl of hair out of his eye. “I’ve met some night gods. They look like big ugly birds, with a big temper and zero compassion or kindness. Dress in old rags and stuff,”  “You’re lying, I swear you’re lying,” “I am not! It’s true. I see one quite often actually, he’s a pain in the ass, right psycho.”  “Yeah? He your best friend?” He snorted. “Absolutely not.”  You tsked. “Aw, that’s so sad,” “No it’s not. I told you, he’s not right in his mind,”  “Yeah but isn’t that all gods?” Steven sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Okay, you make an excellent point, but I’m telling you, this one is bloody psycho. Murderous and whatnot.” He smiled, a big goofy smile that showed his cute dimples.  You shook your head again, trying to fight back a stupid sappy grin. “You’re too funny,” “Too funny? Is that bad?” He frowned. “No! No, absolutely not. It’s nice, your jokes are actual..well, yknow, jokes. And it’s kind of nerdy.” “Oi!” He leaned in, pointing a finger at you with an air of amusement. “You just said nerdy was cute,” “It is!! It’s very cute!”  “Bloody right. ‘Cause if you came for sports jokes, I’m not your guy,” You laughed. “Nope, no sports jokes for me. I just like an extra side of nerdiness,”  He narrowed his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You are horrible,”  “Horribly cute, yeah, definitely,” He exploded with laughter, his face all happy smile lines and precious dimples. You smiled widely, your heart doing a little skip with how gorgeous he looks, so full of laughter. 

Thankfully though, before he caught you grinning like an idiot at him and trying to memorise his face, a waiter came to your table, and you managed to order your drinks without acting crazy or too dorky. 

*                                                         *                                                                *

“What about Bastet? You know her?” 

Okay so maybe you were still a little dorky. 

“The cat lady? I mean you see her everywhere don’t you? In all the nice cat ladies by your flat or in the market!” “Okay fine Mr. Poetic, I’m asking about the goddess,” 

He grinned, fiddling with the strap of his bag as you both made your way to a bus stop. “I haven’t met her, no. But I know of her,” 

“Right, of course,” You weren’t sure why you humoured this idea; the possibility of divinity walking amongst man. But the ease of pretending, of imagining with him, with Steven, was something you came to realise you enjoyed too much to give up.  “What about Zeus?” He frowned. “Wrong civilization,”  “Oh come on, so you’re telling me you can believe the idea of gods with bird heads from the times of pyramids, but you can’t humour me with the idea of wackoo’s living on top of a mountain?”  “I just don’t like them. Too chaotic,”  “That’s exactly why everyone likes them,”  “Okay fine, I just stay in my territory,” You shook your head, shrugging your bag back into place on your shoulder. “Okay, that’s fair, they probably don’t like each other anyway,”  “Nope, definitely don’t,” 

You both fell into a silence after, continuing your walk to the bus stop. “You don’t have to go all the way with me to the bus stop yknow-” You started but he just shook his head.  “I don’t mind, love. Really, it’s a nice day out for a walk,”  You nodded. “Okay.”

Silence fell again, and you couldn’t help but look up a little to look at him. Him with his pretty eyes and flushed cheeks. Him with his easy going smile on those nice lips. Him with the nice jawline and cheekbones that are just the right amount of sharp you just want to run your finger over it. 

By the time the both of you had made it to the bus station, you had made up your mind; You were going to ask him for his number. 

Only problem is…how do you ask a cute guy for his number?

You could feel the nerves start to set in as the minutes tick by, and more people pile around the bus stop. It was going to be here soon, and you’ll hop on, and probably never get his number and-

Okay calm down. You fiddled with your bag as the minutes passed, occasional small glances and nervous chuckles with Steven as he waited too, and it felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders just to ask for a series of stupid numerals.  When you glanced back up at Steven for what had to be the millionth time so far, you noticed in the far distance that the bus was heading this way. Steven turns the other way then too, noticing you staring and he sighed softly. “Ah, there’s your bus,”  “Yup,” He looked back at you, a soft smile on his lips. He picked at his nails, a feeling of anxiety bubbling inside of him. “So…” “So…” You continued for him, and you both laughed awkwardly.  “Can I-” “Can-” You stopped, chuckling awkwardly as Steven shook his head.  “Sorry love- didn’t mean to speak over you-” “No no it’s okay! My bad,” You reassured him. “Go ahead,”  “No really-” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “You start,” “Steven-” You started to protest (why were you even doing that) but he set you with a firm look and you sighed. “Okay. I was…yknow…going to ask. If-” You trailed off. “Yknow…” “If…? Unfortunately love, I’m very bad at guessing games. You’ll have to specify,” You sighed, rubbing a hand down my face. You took a deep breath and right as the bus stopped at your station, you blurted quickly, “Can I have your number?!” It came out in one breath, a quick sentence and Steven’s browns furrowed. You panicked, thinking maybe you had read this wrong? What if he doesn’t want to give you his number? 

But then his face exploded in a wide smile, and his eyes lit up adorably and his cheeks filled with a soft blush. “Oh. My number!” He laughed, soft and clearly full of anxiety. “Yes- right yes, of course you can. Sorry it took a minute there-” He muttered, quickly digging through his bag and pulling out his phone. “Right then, quick quick before you miss your bus-” 

“It’s okay,” You mumbled quickly, steering him away from the growing bus line so you could plug in his number. You did it painfully slowly, double checking each number and going over the series at least 5 times. By the time you finished exaggerating and actually putting the number into your contacts, Steven was tapping his foot anxiously on the ground as he watched the last person board the bus.  “You have to hurry it’s going to close, love,” You looked up and glanced at the bus. “Oh crap-” You quickly fumbled to put your phone away and return his, but by the time you took a step towards the bus, it dinged and the door closed as it slowly started back up to drive away.  "Shit,” Steven tugged at his curls. “Oh god love, I’m really sorry- maybe if we run we could catch its next stop?” Didn’t people always say make the best out of a bad situation? The bus is gone, another won’t be coming for probably another half hour, and you were not running. 

But maybe…maybe this was a good thing? 

You shrugged, trying to sound as upset as you could possibly gather, but even to your own ears it sounded fake. “Oh no….the bus is gone. This is horrible. What do I do now?”  Steven started to say something, but then stopped, frowning a little, before his eyes widened and a smile grew across his face. “Hang on-” He stepped closer to you, his eyes glittered with humour. “You planned that, didn't you?” You gasped. “What? Me? Why would I ever want to miss my bus?”  “Hmm….” He tapped a finger to his chin, thinking loudly. He leaned down then his face barely inches away from your face. “Maybe because you wanted to spend more time with me?” He has no right being cute and nervous one second and then sexy  and all mischief the next.  Your eyes widened, you felt your skin heat and your cheeks flush pink with how close he was. His eyes looked even prettier up close, and his lips looked so kissable.  “Really?” You managed to breathe out. “You think I’m that captivated by you?” He shrugged. “Maybe.” He paused, biting his lower lip. 

Fuck. 

“Are you? Captivated by me?” He asked.  “Hmm. Let’s see…I think your nerdiness and awkward attitude and shy personality has definitely captivated me, Mr. Grant,”  His face explodes into a bright and beautiful smile. “Really? So if I asked to go on a walk right now, you’d say yes?” I hum, pretending to think it over. “I think…yes, I would absolutely say yes,” The look on his face made it seem as if he just experienced heaven. Your heart fluttered, and you knew then that you’d never ever get tired of seeing him this happy. “Brilliant. Great, alright then um..” He stood up straight again, looking around. “Let’s go?” 

You smiled, gesturing to the roads bustling with people. “Lead the way,” 

[readingwiththestars]

₊˚⊹♡ RECKLESS

["it's a good thing you're not here, because i still havent found my courage."]

| ✮ 4.5 stars |

THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [spoilers ahead]

okayyy let me just start off with WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK WAS THAT ENDING LAUREN???? i'm not okay because of it. like nuh uh get lost. u had no right to do that (im saying this as if it didnt get spoiled for me and i didnt gaslight myself the entire book read that it wasn't going to happen)

i would like to straight up say this seemed like a filler book. just a set up for the next one, it didn't really have all too much plot-wise aside from pae and kai's romance. it was less on the fantasy side and more on the romance but i still enjoyed it a lot. and obviously since it was a filler book there was less character development (for some- im looking at you paedyn)

kai and pae were really cute in this book honestly (and as it mostly focuses on the romance ofc they were) the banter and everything was so wonderful to read i was giggling and kicking my feet wayyy to much. the romance was romancing but also not romancing at the same time (im not even gonna try to explain that just use vibes)

i do feel as though lauren's writing has definitely improved from powerless. she has this whimsical magical style of writing that i love it really takes me into the world of the book (mostly). other times the long sentences were too much in moments. like lauren. we did not need to know the colour of the bricks in the market at this certain moment in time when you'd already explained the colour two pages ago-

CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

paedyn - ok i love her. i really do she's such a good fmc BUT for me in this book she was boring-ish. and hella indecisive like girly pop if i had kai talking to me like that i'd be folding so damn fast- but yeah it felt like she didn't have too much character development aside from finding out her dad was actually her dad. also i idk who the fuck she was trying to fool with her 'i hate you' to kai, like be fucking for real bitch no you dont.

kai - ok bye i could write a whole rant on why i love this man. like im sat. this book felt more like kai's book (as powerless felt like pae's) imo we got more on his backstory and i think his character (and povs) were more interesting for me to focus on. also his flirting and little one liners had me giggling and shit my sister actually woke up to me grinning like an idiot under torch light-

kitt - bye idek why i made this section for him. this is going to entirely be hate fr. OKAY WE GET IT DUDE UR A GHOST WHATEVER. OH MY GOSH U MISS UR DAD BUT IN THE NEXT POV U DONT LIKE BITCH CHOOSE A SIDE IDC ABT UR WHINY ASS. ALSO U CLEARLY HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH PAEDYN LIKE FUCKING HELL DUDE SHE IS UR 'MUSE' OR WHATEVER GET OVER YOURSELF. EUGH AND THEN PROPOSING TO HER?? YEAH SURE BUDDY "YOUR FEELINGS FOR HER DIED" MHM YUP OKAY TOTALLYYY *clears throat awkwardly* can you tell i hate him?

QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [its like all kai... im not even sorry about it either]

"you are my proof of paradise." - kai

"call us even. call me crazy. i don't care. just... just call me yours." - kai

"under different curcumstances i promise you im much more fun tied up." - kai (WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREECHED AND STARED AT THE PAGE. MALAKAI AZER-)

"just pae and kai." - kai

"she was supposed to be my forever. now i'll watch her become someone else's. because the beast doesn't get the beauty." - kai

jahsdgj i can't wait for the next book hehe

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 21 & final notes

warning: VERY LONG

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

He had been taken from his suite to a smaller cell and laid out on stone, his body covered by fine linen. Nineteen, thought Damen, and quiet.

the ‘and quiet’ is especially heartbreaking

When a servant had made to enter, Damen had bodily stopped him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No one goes in.’ He had put a two-man guard on the door with those same orders, and cleared out the section—as he had done once before, at the tower. When he had been certain that Laurent had sufficient privacy, he had left to learn all he could about Charcy.

lamen hr complaint #3: preventing other people (servants) from doing their jobs.

also, i like how this again builds on what we’ve seen in previous chapters. damen knows laurent needs time alone to process and think, and he fights to give him that. and then he tries to do some helpful thinking of his own.

‘I’m not Aimeric.’

you tell him damen

‘You ever wonder what it would feel like to find out you’d spread for your brother’s killer?’ Jord looked around the small room. He looked at the place where Aimeric lay. ‘I think it would feel like this.’ Unbidden, remembered words rose up inside him. I don’t care. You’re still my slave tonight. Damen pressed his eyes closed. ‘I wasn’t Damianos last night. I was just—’

it’s all coming together!! all the things i’ve been analyzing!!

also jord seriously laurent is doing this emotional damage to himself, damen’s just along for the ride

‘Just a man?’ said Jord. ‘You think Aimeric thought that? That there were two of him? Because there weren’t. There was only ever one, and look what happened to him.’

but… i think he was conflicted, and felt split. hence the “i’m sorry jord” and killing himself. and “what happened to him” implies a passivity that is patently false. aimeric was more like damen and laurent, psychologically, than jord. who is—sorry jord—honestly just too simple to be dealing with these ridiculous people

He had put those soldiers on the door to bar the way to those men seeking Laurent out for some trivial matter, or for any matter, because when Laurent wanted to be alone, no one should suffer the consequences of interrupting him. The taller soldier addressed him. ‘Commander, no one has entered in your absence.’ Damen’s eyes passed over the doors again. ‘Good,’ he said. And he pushed the doors open.

i LOVE this moment. the subtle humor of it—“when he wants to be alone, nobody should suffer his wrath” to “i’m going in,” because damen knows he can handle laurent’s bitching and that he shouldn’t be alone for too long

...even the table was replenished, with platters of fruit and pitchers of water and of wine...

guy whose job it is to communicate with the fort’s kitchen: yeah uh, can i get a ‘sorry you were disowned, usurped, gifted a severed human head, and then like five minutes later you discovered a suicide’ fruit basket for the prince

‘Come to say goodbye?’ said Laurent.

no you fucking idiot. let yourself be loved.

‘I’m sorry. I know what Nicaise meant to you.’ ‘He was my uncle’s whore,’ said Laurent. ‘He was more than that. You thought of him as—’ ‘A brother?’ said Laurent. ‘But I do not have terribly good luck with those. I hope you are not here for a mawkish display of sentiment. I will throw you out.’

laurent is trying so hard to take back control from this person who so recently saw him in such an intimate context. refusing to believe that he could continue to show damen vulnerability, and it would make him stronger

‘Then you’ll kill them like you killed Nicaise,’ said Damen. ‘By dragging them into this endless, childish bid of yours for your uncle’s attention that you call a fight.’ ‘Get out,’ said Laurent. He had gone white. ‘Is the truth hard to hear?’ ‘I said get out.’ ‘Or do you claim you’re marching to Charcy for some other reason?’

damen calling him on his bullshit! yes!! i love the tenderness between them here, in the pain and the compassion. tenderness is both. they can’t love each other without hurting each other (because lies), they can’t hurt each other without loving each other. there is some twisted romance in understanding someone and being understood so thoroughly that you have the keys to loving and hurting each other in ways no one else can. it’s a very compelling and intimate dynamic, although i am glad that they eventually figure out how to love each other without causing each other pain.

‘You need to beat him at his own game? You want him to see you do it? At the expense of your position and the lives of your men? Are you that desperate for his attention?’ He let his eyes rake up and down Laurent’s form. ‘Well, you have it. Congratulations. You must have loved it that he was obsessed enough with you that he killed his own boy to get at you. You win.’ Laurent took a step back, an almost-swaying motion of a man in the grip of nausea. He stared at Damen, his face hollowed. ‘You don’t know anything,’ Laurent said then, in a cold, terrible voice. ‘You don’t know anything about me. Or my uncle. You’re so blind. You can’t see what’s—right in front of you.’

okay damen you’re completely off-base with that one, but at least your worst-case selection on the dialogue tree has shocked laurent into being more angry at you than at the regent. which, if that was the point… well-played, but also Watch Out

Laurent’s sudden laugh was low and mocking. ‘You want me? You’re my slave?’ He felt himself flush. ‘That’s not going to work.’

and just as expected (?) laurent turns his wrath on a new target. performing cruelty, like he always does when he’s been justifiably called out

‘You want to hear the truth about my uncle? I’ll tell you,’ said Laurent, a new light in his eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what you couldn’t stop. What you were too blind to see. You were in chains while Kastor was cutting down your royal family. Kastor and my uncle.’ He heard it, and he knew not to engage. He knew, and a part of him was aching at what Laurent was doing, even as he heard himself say, ‘What does your uncle have to do with—’

so damen is subjecting himself to this on purpose. they are so messy. but it’s going to work

‘You didn’t guess it was Kastor? You poor dumb brute. Kastor killed the King, then took the city with my uncle’s troops. And all my uncle had to do was to sit back and watch it happen.’ He thought of his father, in a sick bed ringed with physicians, his eyes and cheeks hollowed out, and the room thick with the smell of tallow and of death. He remembered his sense of powerlessness, watching his father slip away, and Kastor, so solicitous, kneeling by his father’s side. ‘Did you know about this?’ ‘Know?’ said Laurent. ‘Everyone knows. I was glad. I just wish I could have seen it happen. I wish I could have seen Damianos when Kastor’s hire-swords came for him. I would have laughed in his face. His father got exactly what he deserved, to die like the animal he was, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it happening. Then again,’ said Laurent, ‘maybe if Theomedes had kept his cock in his wife instead of sticking it in his mistress—’ That was the last thing he said, because Damen hit him. He drove his fist into Laurent’s jaw with all the force of his weight behind it. Knuckles impacted on flesh and bone and Laurent’s head snapped sideways even as he hit the table behind him hard, sending its contents scattering. Metallic platters crashed against tile, a mess of spilt wine and strewn food. Laurent clutched the table with the arm that he’d flung out instinctively to stop his fall.

a couple things to note here:

goddamn laurent. dude.

but at least he remembered to keep up the lie in his uncontrolled spite-filled monologue

veretian heterophobia/anti-bastardry on full display

not the fruit plate…

my ex wife still misses me, but her aim is getting better

Damen was breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists. How dare you talk that way about my father. The words were on his lips. His mind pulsed and throbbed.

hey damen, remember a few chapters ago when you were thinking about how you didn’t want to be like your father? not that kind of king? interesting

Laurent pushed himself up and gave Damen a look glittering with triumph, even as he dragged the back of his right hand across his mouth, where his lips were smeared with blood.

he’s insane. amazing character. 10/10

The doors behind him opened, and Damen knew without turning around that the sound had summoned the soldiers into the room. He didn’t take his eyes off Laurent. ‘Arrest me,’ said Damen. ‘I have raised hands to the Prince.’ The soldiers hesitated. It was the just response to his actions but he was—or had been—their Captain. He had to say again, ‘Do it.’ The darker-haired soldier stepped forward and Damen felt the grip take him. Laurent set his jaw. ‘No,’ said Laurent. And then, ‘It was provoked.’ Another hesitation. It was clear that the two soldiers did not know what to make of what they had walked into. The air of violence was heavy in the room, where their Prince stood in front of a ruined table, with blood welling from his lip. ‘I said let him go.’ It was a direct order from their Prince, and this time it was obeyed.

LAMEN HR COMPLAINT #4. UNNAMED SOLDIERS. i don’t even know how to label this one. but it definitely justifies a complaint. one of my favorite lamen hr complaints in the entire series

‘No,’ he said. ‘You can’t go to Charcy. I need to convince you of that.’ Laurent’s laugh was a strange, breathless sound. ‘Didn’t you hear anything that I just said to you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘You tried to hurt me, and you have. I wish you would see that what you have just done to me is what your uncle is doing to you.’ He saw Laurent receive that like a man at the very ends of his endurance being given another hit. ‘Why,’ said Laurent, ‘do you—do you always—’ He stopped himself. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow.

laurent at his weakest and most vulnerable makes my heart ACHE

‘I can’t.’ It was a raw admission. ‘I can’t think.’ The words were torn out of him. Wide-eyed in the silence, Laurent said them again in a different voice, his blue eyes dark with the exposure of the truth. ‘I can’t think.’ ‘I know,’ said Damen. He said it softly. There was more than one admission in Laurent’s words. He knew that too.

this made me tear up the first time i read it. laurent’s reaction here comes scarily close to some personal stuff for me, except i didn’t have anyone to say “i know” and comfort me. i’m glad laurent isn’t alone. it’s a little self-indulgent to imagine that someone could be loved like this in real life, but at least it happens on the page. and it took a real person to write it happening on the page—it didn’t just show up there on its own. that matters, and it’s part of why i find gratification in engaging intellectually and emotionally with fiction.

‘Don’t go,’ said Laurent, quietly. ‘I’m just clearing my head. I already told my escort I wouldn’t need them until morning,’ said Damen. And there was another awful silence, as Damen realised what Laurent was asking him. ‘No. I don’t mean—forever—just—’ Laurent broke off. ‘Three days.’ Laurent said it as though producing from the depths the answer to a painstakingly weighed question. ‘I can do this alone. I know I can. It’s only that right now I can’t seem to . . . think, and I can’t . . . trust anyone else to stand up to me when I’m . . . like this. If you could give me three days, I—’ He forcibly cut himself off. ‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘You know I’ll stay for as long as you—’ ‘Don’t,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t lie to me. Not you.’ ‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘Three days. After that, I ride south.’

laurent not wanting damen to promise anything more than three days is so painful to read, but it also rings true. laurent knows he couldn’t stand to see that promise broken (“not you”), and he also knows that he can’t keep his lie from damen forever. laurent probably even thinks, despite everything between them, that damen might not even want him after he figures it out. but he needs him here now, in order to survive this and clear his head. so three more days.

damen agreeing to ride south in three days is a mercy, and i think also probably a lie. but he knows it’s what laurent wants and needs to hear, and that laurent is incredibly vulnerable at the moment. damen gives him what he (laurent) thinks he needs (damen leaving), while also giving him what he actually needs (damen staying), for three days at least.

Laurent nodded. After a moment, Damen came back to rest against the table beside Laurent. He watched Laurent find his way back to himself. Eventually, Laurent began to talk, the words precise and quite steady. ‘You’re right. I killed Nicaise when I left it half done. I should have either stayed away from him, or broken his faith in my uncle. I didn’t plan it out, I left it to chance. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about him like that. I just . . . I just liked him.’ Underneath the cold, analytical words, there was also something bewildered.

really good depiction of someone coming back from a panic attack/breakdown. again, it hits. the “coming back to himself,” the way he slides back into steady precise assessment of the situation… yeah

It was awful. ‘I should never have—said that. Nicaise made a choice. He spoke up for you because you were his friend, and that is not something you should regret.’

oh this whole thing kind of foreshadows how laurent sacrifices himself for damen in book 3, huh? he does the exact opposite of what damen is telling him here, except instead of nicaise making a choice it's damen. damen makes the choice to care about laurent, over and over again, and laurent can’t regret that FOR him. laurent shouldn’t feel like he needs to free damen of his burden of caring, or protect damen from the consequences of his own attachment. but laurent is going to try to do exactly that, in book 3, especially with his “failure” of nicaise in mind. and he’s kind of doing it now, too, by insisting that damen can’t stay with him after charcy.

laurent shows love by caring for others in the ways he knows how to care for himself. it’s a silly parallel to make, but it’s like how he brought damen a towel after the sex scene, even though damen didn’t have the urge to be clean that laurent so pressingly experienced. laurent knows how to suffer alone and how to strategically use his abilities to survive. he channels this experience to serve the people and causes he loves, even if the gesture is misunderstood or it's done at his own expense.

back to book 3: damen attacks the regent in laurent's honor. laurent submits himself to the regent's retaliation in his place. not only because he loves damen and wants to protect him, but also because he blames himself for getting damen into the situation at all. because he allowed himself to be loved by damen, damen was in danger. laurent regrets that on damen's behalf and tries to suffer the consequences instead. something he hadn't thought to do, or been able to do, for nicaise.

laurent does have a bleeding heart—so much so, that he can’t possibly wear it on his sleeve. he believes that he can't help anyone, can't maintain precious stability, if he has made himself vulnerable to love and harm alike. what he does best is survive, use others, and allow himself to be used. his hypervigilance ensures that this is all under his own careful control, even when it appears otherwise. because when laurent loses control, he gets hurt and hurts others. see the regent taking advantage of him after auguste's death for an example of the former, and aimeric's suicide for an example of the latter.

laurent has a private and complicated code of ethics and honor, based on compassion for the disempowered and a thirst for justice. his apparent ruthless pragmatism is part performance, part necessary adaptation, and part realistic means of reaching those idealistic ends. as a disempowered victim of repeated injustices, he is sensitive in a way a person with different experiences might not be. sometimes that means he lashes out, like with aimeric. but in his best moments, it means that he fights and cares with unmatched fierceness. and with someone like damen at his side, and an eventual peaceful life in which he can reflect, laurent can grow to harness that passion without hurting others or himself in the process.

(my note-taking drifted away from text analysis here, and turned into a more personal meditation on real life and fiction. honestly i'd recommend revisiting the original quote to remember what the hell i'm even talking about. please skip to the next quote if you're not interested.)

i don't know if people like damen really exist, or if people like damen even should exist. after all, he puts up with a lot, way more than would be considered healthy or safe by modern standards or even canon standards. maybe damen's existence as a character is purely wish fulfillment for people who relate to laurent. it's probably unreasonable to expect to be loved by someone so patient and devoted. the reality is, while the kernels of what make this ship resonant and desirable may be found in a real relationship, no real relationship will be quite as resonant or desirable as an intentionally-written work of fiction.

the following sentiment is the most personal i intend to get in these notes. it's not super related to the book and it isn't necessarily relevant to anyone but me. but it does create a smoother transition to the next paragraph, so i'll keep it in.

i haven’t had the privilege of experiencing romantic love that hasn’t hurt. and while love and hurt come hand-in-hand, i have historically been offered very little comfort or consideration by people i have trusted with the most vulnerable parts of myself. which means that i am very well-practiced in caring for myself, alone.

i don't know if damens are real, and i don't want to count on it. i'll care for me instead, because i believe that i'm worth caring for.

i think that firm belief, that i am worth caring for, has a lot to do with the way i interact with stories. that's the reason why i find analyzing resonant fiction like capri so personally gratifying. even though the characters aren't real, the fact that their stories have been told at all makes me feel less alone. because someone had to care enough about it, about them, to bother to write it all down. real stories have this effect too, if resonant—history or poetry or memoir, the same principle still applies.

through analyzing the stories that i care so deeply about, i am tricked into believing that i owe myself the same compassion and consideration that i show the people within them. because if i relate to a character, and i want them to be happy and loved, then that must mean that i want me to be happy and loved too. and beyond projection, i get to learn things about people who aren't like me at all, and countless worlds outside my own. in that respect, thinking about stories helps me strengthen my own moral code and widen my perspective. and honestly, more than anything else, it just feels good to do something with it all.

... which is why i am doing this, for free, for hours, for fun.

‘He spoke up for me because he didn’t think my uncle would hurt him. None of them do. They think he loves them. It has the outward semblance of love. At first. But it isn’t love. It’s . . . fetish. It doesn’t outlast adolescence. The boys themselves are disposable.’

something something, akielion slavery. keeping people in a permanent state of arrested development, stripping them of their ability to advocate for themselves like adults, making them into interchangeable objects who unconditionally love their position and trust their masters. but it isn’t love, nor is it fetish—it’s grooming, and it's evil. just like the regent, with every single one of his victims.

laurent knows damn well that it's far worse than just fetish. he knows it for the slaves and for the regent's young victims. but he can't verbalize it here, because that would mean admitting (privately, implied) that evil has been done to himself as well.

i don’t think laurent views himself as innocent in the same way he viewed nicaise, or the other victims, or the akielion slaves. his desire for justice is not on his own behalf, and it never really has been. in various instances, it’s been about justice for auguste, damen, jord, and nicaise… but never for laurent himself. to laurent, it’s evil when the regent hurts all of the other boys—but when it was him, it was only fetish. and laurent understands that to the regent, with any of his victims, it is only fetish. not love or evil. even though the regent's boys believe it's love, even though laurent can rationally recognize that it's evil, it doesn't matter when the regent is still in power. and on a personal level, regarding his own experiences with his uncle, some part of laurent is still groomed into thinking he specifically deserves abuse.

Damen knew better than to reach out, or to try to touch him.

i love seeing moments like these. comfort isn't one-size-fits-all.

He watched Laurent’s face, the flickering of some internal truth behind the careful lack of all expression. ‘He was on my side,’ said Laurent. ‘But in the end, the only person on his side was him.’

don’t make the same mistake, laurent, assuming that damen isn’t on your side. oh fuck he can’t hear me.

‘You liked him.’ ‘My uncle cultivated the worst in him. He still had good instincts sometimes. When children are moulded that young, it takes time to undo. I thought . . .’ Softly, ‘You thought you could help him.’

see previous analysis re: laurent, grooming, regent, etc.

It was with a shock that he felt the touch of Laurent’s fingers against the back of his wrist. He thought it a gesture of comfort, a caress, and then he realised that Laurent was shifting the fabric of his sleeve, sliding it back slightly to reveal the gold underneath, until the wrist-cuff he had asked the blacksmith to leave on was exposed between them. ‘Sentiment?’ said Laurent. ‘Something like that.’ Their eyes met and he could feel each beat of his heart. A few seconds of silence, a space that lengthened, until Laurent spoke. ‘You should give me the other.’ Damen flushed slowly, heat spreading from his chest over his skin, his heartbeats intrusive. He tried to answer in a normal voice. ‘I can’t imagine you’d wear it.’ ‘To keep. I wouldn’t wear it,’ said Laurent, ‘though I don’t believe your imagination is having any difficulty with the idea.’

foreshadowing this in book 3, except it happens in the most petty insane way possible

Damen let out a soft, unsteady breath of laughter, because he was right. For a while they sat together in comfortable silence. Laurent had mostly returned to himself, his posture more casual, his weight leaned back on his arms, watching Damen as he sometimes did. But he was a new version of himself, stripped back, youthful, a little quieter, and Damen realised he was seeing Laurent with his defences lowered—one or two of them, anyway. There was an untried, fragile feeling to the experience.

<3

‘I should not have told you in the manner I did about Kastor.’ The words were quiet. Red wine was seeping into the tiles of the floor. He heard himself ask it. ‘Did you mean what you said? That you were glad.’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘They killed my family.’

i love that he doesn’t lie here. because yeah.

The truth was so close in this room that it seemed for a moment that he would say it, say his own name to Laurent, and the closeness of it seemed to press down on him, because they had both lost family.

honestly cannot tell if it would have made things better or worse for him to tell the truth now. guess we'll never know

Because throw Laurent together with Damianos, and either one would kill the other, or, if Damen kept his identity concealed and they somehow managed to form an alliance . . . if he helped Laurent instead of hurting him, and Laurent, out of the deep-buried sense of fairness that existed within him, helped him in turn . . . if the foundation of trust was built between them so that they might become friends, or more than friends . . . if Laurent ever decided to make use of his bed slave . . . He thought about the Regent’s suggestions to him, sly, subtle. Laurent could benefit from a steadying influence, someone close to him with his best interests at heart. A man with sound judgement, who could help guide him without being swayed. And the constant, pervasive insinuation: Have you taken my nephew? My uncle knows that when I lose control, I make mistakes. It would have given him a perverse kind of pleasure to send Aimeric to work against me, Laurent had said. How much greater the twisted pleasure to be gleaned from this?

regent thought he was being clever but he actually just preordered his own defeat

‘I’ve listened to everything that you said to me,’ Laurent was saying. ‘I’m not going to rush off to Charcy with an army. But I still want to fight. Not because my uncle threw down a challenge, but on my own terms, because this is my country. I know that together we can find a way to use Charcy to my advantage. Together we can do what we cannot do apart.’

“together we can do what we can’t do apart” THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING

also warning, i forget the details of laurent’s whole charcy plan. so there’s probably context where i’m missing it. but i’m still looking out for double meanings etc

(note from post-reading sam: yeah you're about to see me realizing and processing things in real time, just hang in there i figure it out eventually)

‘My uncle plans everything,’ said Laurent, as though reading Damen’s thoughts. ‘He plans for victory and he plans for defeat. It was you who never quite fit . . . You’ve always been outside of his schemes. For everything that my uncle and Kastor planned,’ said Laurent, as Damen felt himself grow cold, ‘they had no idea what they did when they gifted me with you.’

i love that he says this, knowing who damen is. it just makes me happy. i think laurent is already Scheming at this point, and probably weighing the ways he can blindside damen or screw him over. “together we can do things…” doesn’t necessarily mean that they can make it happen as a team. damen is a useful piece to play strategically, though, and that way of regarding him means laurent conveniently doesn’t have to think about the intimate night they just shared or the two people who just died tragically who both parallel his own experiences

In a fort full of activity, he knew himself a game piece, and was only beginning to be able to glimpse the scope of the board.

truer than you think. although UGH i wish i could remember the exact sequence, i’m not sure if laurent is scheming to screw him over yet. i kinda forget how we arrive at “hello lover” because laurent knows damen is who he is, but i don’t think he’s being dishonest with his feelings. maybe it’s just that, once the reality is undeniable, laurent feels regret and shame about loving his brother’s killer, and massively course-corrects in the opposite direction by being cruel. maybe he doesn’t want to appear weak or compromised for having engaged with the akielion prince in the way he did, so he has to pretend that it wasn’t real. also he gets tortured, which probably doesn’t help. and the plot has to keep plotting and the conflict has to keep conflicting.

did laurent see charcy coming prior to nicaise? again, i forget. but i’m keeping an eye out for it now. i think his plans are all being made last-second, but i could be wrong.

(post-reading sam again: i was wrong.)

Jord was right. He had owed Laurent the truth, and he hadn’t given it to him. And now he knew what the consequences of that choice might be. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret what they had done: last night had been bright in a way that resisted tarnishing. It had been right. His heart beat with the feeling that the other truth must somehow change to make it right, and he knew that it wouldn’t.

yeah ngl damen i get why you didn’t say it but if i was laurent i’d be pissed. like i wonder if laurent was waiting the whole time for damen to just Say It, and the fact that he didn’t made damen lose the moral arbitration he didn’t even know he was subject to. THAT would explain laurent’s attitude at charcy. this was a test and damen failed. and while they both should just fucking talk to each other and laurent is insane for keeping this bit going for so long, i do understand why he’d feel disappointed and betrayed by damen’s lack of honesty, especially given the other ways damen has proven himself loyal and true. so it’s easier for laurent to use him and screw him over, in a way, because he can tell himself that damen’s just been using and screwing him too.

He imagined himself nineteen again, knowing then what he knew now, and he wondered if he would have let that long-ago battle fall to the Veretians—let Auguste live. If he would have ignored his father’s call to arms altogether, and instead found his way to the Veretian tents and sought out Auguste to find some common ground. Laurent would have been thirteen but in Damen’s mind’s eye he would have found him a little older, sixteen or seventeen, old enough that Damen’s nineteen-year-old self could have begun, with all the exuberance of youth, to court him.

damen: i think i’ve changed enough as a person that if i went back in time, i’d make a different ethical choice about the life or death of another person. and that’s cool and all, but ALSO i’d get to court laurent !!!!! :D

And if he couldn’t give Laurent the truth, he could use everything else he had to give Laurent a definitive victory in the south.

i mean you still could. you very much still could. you can have a kingdom AND this, you just have to communicate with laurent. but go and do the other thing i guess.

to be fair, damen doesn’t know that laurent knows. i’m being too harsh. if laurent truly didn’t know, this would make a lot more sense. the truth would make him far too upset to fight with a clear mind, and damen understands that laurent is more likely to screw up when he loses his mind. damen wants laurent to be safe and to win, so he withholds the truth that could destroy him. to a first-time reader, it makes total sense, and it keeps the tension going. i think that’s partially why i didn’t anticipate the twist—so much of the tension hinges on something being true (laurent doesn’t know), so it made the most sense to me that something with this much attention placed on it MUST be true. but it’s perhaps even more interesting and compelling to know on a re-read that it’s not true, that laurent does know, because it gives me a lot of things to re-contextualize.

the only downside is that it’s also just incredibly frustrating, now that i’m not on board emotionally with damen and the lie that creates the tension here. that doesn’t mean the writing is bad, but the feeling i get reading it is VERY different from how i felt the first time around. oh my god is that how laurent has felt this whole time. like he’s taking part in his own love story but he can’t fully actively buy into it or participate, because he knows something that jeopardizes the love story so dramatically that he can’t call it a love story at all. oh my god.

like, damen is in a romance story. there are politics and drama and adventure, but that is main genre of his narrative. he always tends to focus on romantic aspects of a situation. and the first time we read the series, we only perceive their love story from damen’s pov. we can’t even begin to guess what’s going on with laurent, because we think he’s clueless about this big lie, and so we kind of just make do with his dialogue and damen’s observations.

but laurent isn’t just the love interest in damen’s narrative. in laurent's narrative, he is the main character of a fucking psychological thriller, and has been this whole time. king’s rising is where damen (and the reader) finally get a sense of the genre/reality laurent has been living in thus far, because the truth comes out and laurent can now make it damen’s problem. but it's always been happening, in laurent's head.

There had been a silence, until Laurent had said, ‘You were right. I haven’t been thinking about it like this.’ ‘Like what?’ said Damen. ‘Like war,’ said Laurent.

it's the game he likes. not war

Now they faced one another on the dais and words rose to Damen’s lips, personal words. But what he said was, ‘Are you sure you want to leave your enemy in charge of your fort?’

do they ever say “i love you” on the page? i seem to recall an absence of that—which i don’t exactly mind in their case, because it’s pretty obvious they love each other by the end, and so much is left between the lines with them anyway. but i do wonder if damen had the urge to say some variation of the sentiment here, before chickening out and going for a snarky comment instead

They gazed at one another. It was a public goodbye, in full view of the men. Laurent extended his hand. He did it not, as a prince might, for Damen to kneel and kiss, but as a friend. There was acknowledgement in the gesture, and as Damen took his hand, in front of the men, Laurent held his gaze. Laurent said, ‘Take care of my fort, Commander.’ In public, there was nothing he could say. He felt his grip tighten slightly. He thought of stepping forward, of taking Laurent’s head in his hands. And then he thought of what he was, and all he now knew. And he forced himself to release his grip.

foreshadowing book 3. they can’t interact with each other with the same ease, intimacy, and privacy that they had as “master” and “slave” when they’re both recognized as capable leaders in the public eye.

(they fail miserably at this, though, especially in early-to-mid book 3 after the reveal. like they really just put themselves in a lose-lose situation: they “can’t” be in love or trust each other, but they are also so obsessed with each other that what they end up doing in the public eye is ten times weirder and less convenient for everyone else than if they just made up and were in love as well as commanding an army.)

Laurent was nodding to his attendant, mounting his horse. Damen said, ‘A lot depends on timing. We have a rendezvous in two days. I—Don’t be late.’ ‘Trust me,’ said Laurent with a single bright glance, straightening his horse out with the tug of a rein in the moment before the order was called, and he and his men moved out.

okay, so here’s what’s actually going on with the war shit, because i’m determined to keep track of it this time instead of just focusing on the emotions.

laurent is riding out to fortaine, which is the fort that guion runs, and the likely source of the regent’s promised troops at nearby charcy. this is a good plan because laurent taking fortaine fucks up the regent’s plan AND it gives laurent access to the resources necessary to continue fighting.

damen, meanwhile, will literally hold down the fort here in ravenel. laurent trusts him to do this. laurent has taken most of the soldiers, leaving damen with not many men if there was to be a surprise attack here.

they have an important rendezvous set in two days’ time, although i’m unsure where exactly they’ve agreed to meet. i’m going to assume fortaine or charcy, not back here in ravenel. i think since damen says “don’t be late,” the intention is for them both to show up at charcy with their men—for damen to leave ravenel in 1.5 days after preparing the fighters as best as he can—and fight the regent’s forces with their combined army. so it makes sense that damen would say "don't be late," because if he showed up alone with his men, they'd probably get slaughtered.

SO. this is what i remember actually happening:

laurent does not, in fact, show up for the rendezvous in two days, leaving damen to handle charcy alone

instead, laurent takes fortaine and just kind of chills there. damen eventually shows up after winning charcy, leading to the "hello lover" scene

laurent explains the situation to damen as if he (laurent) intentionally stood him up, as retribution for the truth damen has been keeping from him this whole time

BUT laurent is leaving out that he ended up being kidnapped and tortured by guion before killing a man with a chair and just barely managing to take the fort. or something. and govart is there too.

so my question is, does laurent at this exact moment already mean to stand damen up? or is the "hello lover" thing a way for him to cover up the fact that he got captured and tortured and almost lost everything? both things are probably true, which would kind of prove damen's point from the end of this book: laurent makes riskier choices without his input, and there are certain risks laurent shouldn't take because his life and safety matter. but mr "probably" laurent doesn't value his own life and safety very much, especially not if there's a possibility of winning the game. if laurent doesn't allow damen to look out for him, laurent is going to endanger himself.

my guess is that it's both: laurent fully intends to stand damen up at this point, but doesn't anticipate the consequence of his own manipulative bullshit. blindsiding damen will result in laurent's torture, capture, and near-death. despite technically winning the insane mind game against the damianos in his head, laurent will still need to save face with the damen in his tent. because he knows damen was right, and he hates it.

definitely revisiting this note when i read the "hello, lover" scene to see how i did ;)

addition to the note from sam reading two pages ahead: at some point laurent has also gotten akielions involved because he knows their presence will force damen to out himself as damianos. like he’s showing his hand in a way that screws damen over but also doesn’t necessarily get him killed, and most absurdly, STILL KEEPS THE LIE THAT LAURENT DOESN’T KNOW HE’S DAMIANOS GOING, making damen even more guilty and paranoid, and a first-time reader even more compelled by the tension. it happens as the cliffhanger for this book and before charcy, so the events at charcy stay open-ended to a first-time reader.

i hope we find out eventually if laurent planned all of this after they fucked, or if it had already been set in motion before and he just committed to the bit he’d already started. would the fucking have made a difference? probably not. laurent and damen are a cat and a mouse, but laurent thinks they’re a figurative cat and mouse in a psychological thriller who intentionally torment each other, and damen thinks they’re a cat and mouse in a disney movie who fall in love despite their differences. the rare moments where they step into each other’s genres are so rewarding and impactful because they’re so rare. if it happened more often, and during every pivotal moment like this one, it wouldn’t be nearly as powerful when they finally figure out their shit. “a kingdom or this” is an interesting tagline because of the “or.” if it was “and” from the beginning of the story, there wouldn’t be a story to tell. certainly not one as well-written and unique as this. pacat really is a master of writerly restraint, and i could learn a lot from her approach to story construction.

Because it was not possible, no matter what was said, to completely trust Laurent, the morning was a thin skein of tension, drawn tight.

lmao

‘Akielons are marching on us,’ he expected the runner to say, and he did, but then he said, ‘I’m to give this to the fort Commander,’ and he was urgently pressing something into Damen’s hand. Damen stared at it. Behind him, the Akielon army was approaching. In his hand was a hard loop of metal set with a carved gemstone, the etching a starburst. He was looking at Laurent’s signet ring.

oh my god he’s such a BITCH. this has been in motion since the start, and he hasn’t stopped it even though they fell in love. laurent i’m obsessed with your mind. get help.

He remembered the night Laurent had addressed him in Akielon for the first time, remembered long nights speaking in Akielon, Laurent shoring up his vocabulary, improving his fluency, and his choice of subject matter—border geography, treaties, troop movements. He said it as it opened up inside him, ‘They are our reinforcements.’

right logical path, technically right conclusion, but you are missing the additional reveal here so bad 😭 it’s okay buddy i missed it too the first time 😭

The truth was marching towards him.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOO great line. great line for people who Get It and people who don’t. the truth = damianos, yeah, but also the truth = laurent knew. but damen only means the first truth, and the cliffhanger works so well because the reader might not know the second truth either. which i think is the ideal initial experience!

The Regent had been right, people were saying: Laurent had been in league with Akielos all along. It was a strange kind of madness to realise that this, in fact, was true.

context: the regent and laurent were both in league with akielos, just different pieces of it. regent teamed up with kastor, and laurent made contact with nikandros. it makes sense, since delpha is so close to acquitart/vere (i don’t know if i spelled that right) and they share relations with vaskians

this does make nikandros' burning hatred of laurent in book 3 like exponentially funnier though

He could feel the tension of the Akielon forces too, knew they were expecting treachery. The first sword drawn, the first arrow loosed, would unleash a killing force.

so what exactly did laurent say to convince them to come? i get that he meant for them to get here and be jumpscared by their dead prince, but what was the fake reason? just like a vague call for help/solidarity? do the akielons think it’s a trap, or did they come here to attack? it must be the first thing, if the signet is being presented. god this makes my head hurt but i am determined to explore every little nook and cranny of laurent’s insane political rube goldberg machine it’s like enrichment to me

also, holy fucking shit. if laurent always knew this was going to happen, because he set it into motion a while ago, then his comments about having one more night with damen hit so much harder. not only did he know he was going to lose damen, but he also knew that he had arranged things so that damen wouldn’t even have a choice in staying. he was always going to be exposed as a prince, and returned to his former station, and separated from laurent, no matter what. laurent had initially assumed, for good reason, that damen wouldn’t ever want to stay. but throughout this book that assumption has been challenged, over and over again. but laurent couldn’t just take back the messenger by the time they were getting really close. laurent failsafed this shit from the start, so that even if he started to spiral into cognitive dissonance, reality would inevitably arrive to snap him out of it.

laurent has put himself in a hell of his own design, and unlike previous laurent purgatories, this one wasn't on purpose. the intention had been to free himself of his brother’s killer, who his uncle placed in his life as a means of tormenting him. but instead, laurent’s gambit ends up ensuring that the only living person who truly loves him has no choice but to leave.

truly putting the “L” in laurent.

final notes

damen likes blondes mentions: 6 -> 8

laurent leans: 9 -> 11

lamen hr complaints: 4

(i started an ointment joke tally in like chapter one but it never came up again so it doesn't count)

character elements to watch out for (from book 1):

laurent perspective context (knowing what i know, what sense can i make?)

laurent & nicaise

laurent coping mechanisms (pretending, delusion)

damen coping mechanisms (avoidance, distraction)

damen reconsidering the ethics of akielos

mutual moral arbitration

new for book 2:

laurent intimacy depiction

damen's relationship with his father's legacy

damen comparing his current self to himself before vere

laurent and damen are living in two entirely different genres

series themes (from book 1): 

niceness vs. goodness

submission vs. respect - “there is no honour in obedience”

suffering alone vs. fighting together

pain and humor

honor and integrity

sex, power, innocence, violence

trauma, desire, consent

new for book 2:

a kingdom or this

multifaceted tenderness

[emeraldsandamethyst]

This isn't going anywhere. Too many possibilities for literally everything. So here have a scrap, working title: library problems

--

AN: idk what the library name that Babs works at is called so I made one up.

—

Barbara Gordon was at work. Her day job of librarian at Gotham Library East, not her night job of Oracle, the nerve center of the entire bat clan. Someone Babs didn't recognize entered. They studied the collection of local class notices and other such things.

It was a solid ten minutes before they approached the counter and spoke up.

"Hi, Excuse me? I'm Danny." Danny said with an awkward little wave. His accent was Midwest. "I'm here for the rogue class? I think. Please tell me that's a thing and my neighbor didn't just make me look crazy. I couldn't find it on the notice board."

"Welcome to the Gotham Public Library East, Danny. And your neighbor wasn't yanking your chain. The Rogue Safety class is, indeed, a thing. And it's even today. Though not scheduled for another two hours." Barbara said with reassurance. She hadn't noticed this guy's arrival. Not necessarily alarming, she didn't stay hyper vigilant at work.

"Oh man, thank you Six B," Danny said, thanking his absent neighbor with a relieved sigh. He smiled, not showing any teeth. "That's fine. If I'm not stupid early then I'm stupid late. Besides, I need a library card anyways. And I'm pretty sure you can help me with that. I uh, haven't been in a not school library in a long time, so sorry if that's a thing I'm supposed to do on my phone or something. My phone is, uh," Danny showed her a positively archaic flip phone in explanation.

"You've definitely come to the right place, Danny." Barbara said.

One library card later and Danny was exploring the stacks. Barbara showed him where the science and astronomy section was and reassured Danny that yes, he could read the books in the library and no there wasn't any limit on how many he could read while he was here.

—

The Rogue Safety class went well. Danny did, indeed, attend. Though he was late and embarrassed, having gotten caught up reading 'something really cool'.

Danny moved like he had training. Not the kind of training a civilian would get in self defense or low rank martial arts. He took the class seriously. Not everyone did. This class, or a similar class from elsewhere, was generally mandatory for positions with any kind of insurance. Not just health insurance for employees either. No one wanted to insure in Gotham. Most Gothamites didn't bother taking it, instead taking advantage of the rampant corruption to forge their proofs. If their place of employment didn't do that already.

—

[mariamakeslemons]

Chapter 1 (Angered Crows)

TW: slight mention of gore

There are some things being set up for later, while some things are just funny to me.

“I found your necromancer,” Laswell tells them over the phone. It’s been only a day since Gaz watched the Austrian get risen by the very tired looking necromancer, surprising all four members of the 141.

“‘O is it?” Ghost grumbles, flexing his hand to release some of his agitation. Gaz can’t really blame his Lieutenant, as König tends to go after Ghost first when they face him in the field for one reason or another. Knowing who’s reviving him would make finally putting the bastard down so much easier.

“Well,” Laswell hesitates, surprising the task force again, “that’s the thing. They’re a civilian. A witch, yes, but a civilian with no connection to any PMCs or governments. So, why they’re raising König is currently the biggest question.”

“Ye think ‘e might ‘ave somethin’ on th’ poor bastart?” Soap asks, leaning forward on the table. Gaz frowns at that thought, something in his gut saying it’s close to the truth.

“Your guess is as good as mine at this time,” Laswell confesses, “But, they’re closer to you than me.” She rattles off a name and address, in the small section of London that is practically nothing but witches and magic users. Gaz frowns, still mulling over what he saw back on the field. How you had tried to get away from the behemoth of a man. Tilting his head back and forth, Gaz stands at the table, getting the others’ attention.

“Let’s go meet ‘em, then,” he throws out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------The sneeze that escapes you is hard enough that you slam your head into your desk due to the recoil. Ogun gives you the most judgmental look a bird can as you whine in pain.

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” you hiss, glaring at the phoenix, “You flew into a door.” Ogun squawks and flaps his wings indignantly, obviously upset you brought up something so long ago (It was literally three days ago). You roll your eyes and blow a raspberry at your familiar, which only makes him squawk again. The bells above the door tinkle, catching your attention before you could pull your tongue back into your mouth.

At the door is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, looking around your shop curiously. His brown eyes taking in the crystals and herbs, the books and potions, with a quirk of his full lips that practically beg to be kissed. He strides in, confident and powerful, knowing exactly what he came for but enjoying the journey to reach it.

He turns his brown eyes to you and arches an eyebrow.

“You, uh, you gonna keep blepin’?” he asks, drawing attention to the tip of your tongue still poking out of your mouth. You pull it back in quickly, feeling your face burn in embarrassment, only to choke when Ogun flies up to the man. The phoenix puffs up and preens, showing off his black feathers gleefully before flaring his tail to show off his multicolored flames.

“Ogun!” you croak, swatting at your familiar while hissing, “Go! Get! Stop bothering him!” Ogun shrieks and takes off, flying over to his perch with a huff. Already, you’re planning on burning lavender and mint to appease his flaming-ness in apology as you brush out your apron to suppress your embarrassment.

“Sorry about that, sir,” you offer with a sheepish grin, “How can I help you?”

“I’m lookin’ for some information,” he tells you, leaning on the desk, “Just a question.” You’re immediately on edge. Did he realize that he’s your soulmate? Does he think you’re going to force him to be with you? Fuck, maybe he’s one of those humans that fear witches. How does this work? How do relationship work again?

“Do you know a man by the title of König?” he asks instead.

“Oh fuck. What did that fucking moron do now?” you ask with a strange combination of dread and relief. The man blinks at your response, like he wasn’t expecting you to be forthcoming with information.

“Uh,” the man trails off, blinking at you. You wait patiently for your soulmate to tell you what the creepy fuck’s done, when a ghostly hand touches your shoulder.

“Liebling, why do you speak with him?” the ghost of König asks, growling and hissing while looming over your shoulder.

“Because you’re a pain in my ass that won’t let me leave you in the ground,” you snap with a glare, shooing off his hand. The man before you arches a brow while the idiot behind you whines pathetically.

“Sorry, the fuckhead’s dead again,” you groan, “Gotta go revive his stupid ass. For the… sixth time? Sixth time this month.”

“But it’s the tenth,” your soulmate points out. You give him the best ‘and yet, here we are’ look you can muster, before patting him on the hand.

“Look, I’ll be about ten minutes,” you assure him, “I can tell you anything you want to know afterward.”

“You will not,” König growls, only to whine as you wave your hand through his abdomen. Your soulmate mulls it over before offering you a pretty, shy grin.

“I guess I can wait,” he agrees, “I’m Kyle, by the way.” You manage to give him your own name and an attempted flirtatious wink (God, how do flirting work?), before summoning the stupid fucking portal to get to the stupid fuck’s body.

Stepping out into the field, you blink at the mess before you. His eye needs to be completely remade while he’s missing his liver and part of his lung.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” you ask while kneeling beside his body, even if you don’t really care. You just want to raise him and return to your shop. Hopefully, Kyle’s still there and you can try flirting with him. Maybe you should Google how to flirt with a handsome man…

“I yelled at a crow,” he confessed. You freeze before slowly turning up to look at him.

“You yelled,” you slowly draw out, “at a crow.” The idiot gives a nod, flinching when you snap, “And you didn’t think there would be repercussions?!”

“It wasn’t a raven,” he tries to defend himself. You groan, before getting to work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------A witch can be Bound to only one being at a time. If the person the witch is Bound to dies, then they must follow the laws of necromancy before trying to revive them. The death must not be tied to entropy or illness, nor must the soul have been sold to a demon. Should the death not fall into those categories and the witch is Bound, then they must revive the person.

“And he Bound you to him?” Kyle asks, sipping the tea you made upon your return to the shop.

“Unfortunately,” you tell him. And it is. If you had been half a second faster with that decay spell upon his first revival, you never would have needed to be König’s respawner. Kyle hums sympathetically, sipping the tea while looking at you. You groan, “This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if the dumb bitch just listened to me, but noooo. The witch doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Dumb bitch?” Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow. You look up at him and huff, spinning your sad tale for him. From the murderous idiot to the break in, you tell him everything. Even how you killed König again with a decay spell.

“Really, you can argue if it’s called decay or rot,” you end up rambling again, “I was always taught that the spell is ‘decay’, but that word sounds softer than the spell’s effect.”

“Oh?” Kyle intones, perking up in interest. You almost continue on, only to pause. The last time you had dived into what a spell does, it had been a more harmless spell, yet the guy you were talking to (also a non-witch) had looked at you weirdly.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asks, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

“Uh, n-nothing,” you spit out, looking down. Ogun coos and nudges at you, the only thing that you could talk to about the spells and how they might be misnamed or how they work in a different manner than their name would indicate. Kyle frowns and rests his hand on yours.

“Hey,” he coaxes softly, “It’s okay. You wanna talk about th’ spell?” You blink, surprised that he seemed to know just what you wanted to do.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling your face warm in embarrassment.

“Well then,” he declares, settling into his seat, “Have at it.” You perk up, and it rushes out. How aggressive the spell can be, which doesn’t quite sound like decay. How the spell is also a cause of the decay, thus it wasn’t really decay, which only occurs over time. Rot, however, is due to something causing the break down.

“So basically, it should be a rot spell instead of decay,” you finish with a nod. Kyle smiles at you, obviously amused as he finishes off his tea.

“Well, you gave me more than I asked. Thanks for that, Love. I’m gonna go, but I’ll come by again,” he declares, offering his finger to Ogun. Your phoenix forgoes scenting for just being the little tart he is, rubbing against the finger like a tart. Kyle seems surprised at his whorish behavior while you are aghast.

“Ogun! You little slut!” you choke out, making Kyle laugh.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gaz finishes reporting what he found when he visited you, telling everything that you explained about the König situation. Price rubs at his jaw thoughtfully while Ghost leans back in his chair.

“So, ‘ow bonnie are ye talkin’?” Soap asks, leaning forward eagerly. Gaz tries to give his fellow Sargeant a warning look, but he is too flustered at the memory of you. How excited you were, talking away about spells and scolding your familiar for practically rubbing all over his hand for scritches.

“Doesn’t matter,” he decides to say instead, averting his eyes.

“Ach, don’ be lik’ tha’,” Soap whines, splaying out on the table with a pout. Ghost huffs and smacks his boyfriend on the back of the head while Price sighs.

“Is there a way to break a Bond?” the Captain asks.

“I was gonna go back and see if that’s possible,” Gaz admits with a shrug, “Or, you know, find a way to offer the bastard’s soul to a demon.”

“‘Ow ‘bout we don’ risk that,” Ghost says, rubbing his hand on a scar of his. One that he had eventually confessed was from an attempt by a member of his past squad to do just what Gaz had offered. Price nods in agreement.

“If we can trick him into doing that himself, that would be the only way we’re including demons,” Captain orders. Gaz nods in understanding, feeling a bit like an ass for bringing up the option. Luckily, Ghost seems to have understood it was just a thought about how to take care of the current thorn in their side. Still, he’ll have to be more careful around you. After all, you never really know what will occur around magic.

[keystonepublishing]

Ten Pages from the Gazetteer of Time by Jonathan Edelstein

I maaaaay have overused the drawings of Shaun Tan for this particular bookbind.

I may or may not be sorry.

Remember how I said how First Do No Harm was Jonathan Edelstein's earliest published work? Well, I was correct. But before that, Jonathan did write another piece of short fiction that is not officially published in any magazine or anthology. In fact, this story can only found in two places across the internet; a series of old Facebook pasts and a fiction thread on AlternateHistory.com.

It is this. Ten Pages from the Gazetteer of Time.

To describe it is... difficult. It is akin to Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities but focusing more on history, cultural evolution, and the relationship between cities and people. In fact, Jonathan has said this short story is inspired by Italo Calvino's work, and it really shows.

Printing the cover & endpapers was an experiment unto itself. Early on, I wanted to use the drawings of Shaun Tan (who has given permission for anyone to print his drawings, so long as it's fully non-commercial) as they have the perfect vibe for this book. But I also wanted these prints to last long without getting smudged by my naturally sweaty fingers.

So I cut pieces of drawing board paper to A4 size, sent them through the printer, cut the drawings to appropriate size, and sprayed them with an non-acidic, acrylic-based gloss varnish. The texture and results weren't what I desired - some moisture can still enter the prints and some of the crispness is slightly dulled - but it is definitely more protected from open moisture.

The chapter titles are typed using Doves Type Text while the main body of work are done with Alegreya. For the most part, the formatting for 9 / 10 chapters follow what you see above. The sole exception is the final chapter for Ynyr. For story reasons, I wanted to have a representation of singularity and so used a photo from Adam Block that perfectly matches the chapter. The photo also worked as a good overlay for the chapter title, conveying the awe and centrality of the singularity for the city.

As with previous bookbinds, I also added a meta notes and comments section to archive the reactions and discussions of early readers to the story.

All in all, the production of this book took a bit longer than the last, owing to the printing and glossing of the covers and endpapers, as well as editing the images to fit the pages. Although, there are still some kinks in the finished bind - the cover print does not encompass fully to reach the endpapers - I am reasonably pleased with the result.

Full thanks to Jonathan Edelstein for his permission to bind this work, and to Shaun Tan for his permission to use his drawings. As for Adam Block, uh, please forgive me.

P.S: I took the liberty to save the original forum thread for this story onto the Internet Archive. Enjoy!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Between the Lines 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

‘So no one told you life was gonna be this way…’

You nearly clap to the theme song stuck in your head. You resist and continue your patrol of the aisle. The lyrics are oddly poignant as you traverse the bookstore. Two degrees and this is what you’re left with. This is far from what you expected.

You don’t hate the job, only the customers. Sometimes. You love books and when you got the call, you were all too happy to trade in your Starbucks apron for collared shirts and dark slacks. As much as you miss the free drinks, you’re more confident around literature.

You come down the main aisle of the store, around the tables in the middle with stacks of best-sellers and promotions, as a woman enters. She’s striking in her pencil skirt and sleek cinched trench coat. Her hair is immaculately highlighted blonde and gold and highlights her beauty. She doesn’t see you in her hurry, surpassing you for the Biography section.

Another customer follows her in the door. He looks after her as he stops just inside. Your curiosity stitches in your forehead. He’s rather intent on trailing her. His jacket has a star pinned on its chest; a cop.

Oh, shoot. Not another thief. You go to greet the officer, “hello, sir, can I help you?”

“Nah, thanks,” he waves you off, his knuckles nearly hit you in the cheek.

You back up and let him pass. You could be wrong but you can’t risk shrink on your shift. Not again. You casually head in the same direction, pretending to fix some book spines as you peer down the aisle where the woman looks back and forth elusively. Hmmm.

You stride towards her and put on your best smile, “hello, miss, is there something I can help you with?”

She looks at you, almost breathless, “um, do you have a bathroom?”

She cranes to peek over her shoulder again. She shudders as if disgusted. You hear the cop down the next row, slowly pacing. You point her towards the back. You don’t see how she could be hiding anything, her jacket is open and her purse isn’t that big.

She hurries off, heels tapping, as she escapes towards the bathrooms. You shrug and continue on, rounding the end and continuing towards the officer. He sees you and frowns, turning his interest to the graphic novels. Your favourite.

“Anything I can help you find?” You ask in your most chipper tone.

“No,” he grumbles, glancing over the shelves towards the fading click of the woman’s heels.

“Um, is something wrong?” You wonder.

“Can you mind your business?” He asks as he turns on you, “I’m a man of the law, I don’t needa explain myself to you.”

“Of course, sir,” you swallow, taken aback by his tone, “I didn’t mean too. I just thought… if you need help. I’m sorry. I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

You show your palms, meekly excusing yourself as you back away. You turn and take a step, skin blazing in embarrassment. You feel as if you’ve been slapped across the face.

“Now, wait a minute, sweetheart,” the officer calls after you, “I should be sayin’ sorry. I wasn’t meanin’ to be so rude. I’m just… long day, ya know?”

You stop and slowly face him. You do your best to shake away the tension. It’s work and it’s not often you get an apology from a customer.

“Yeah, I know,” you give a rocky half-chuckle, “um, so… what did you come in for?”

“Ah, you know, lookin’ around, uh, these comic books,” he points beside him, “they got lots of pictures?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you face the shelf, “do you have a specific genre in mind? Superheroes? Apocalyptic? Mystery? Anime?”

“Well, I got this nephew, he’s real into this stuff. Nerd type things,” he scoffs, “that Batman guy and his car.”

“Oh, looking for a gift? Birthday?” You prompt.

“I ain’t seen my sister in some years and she asked me over. Long story, don’t matter, but I don’t wanna show up empty handed.”

“That’s sweet. A family reunion,” you turn and peruse the shelf, “well, you could get a couple of issues, we’re having buy two get the third free, but an anthology would go a lot further. A bit pricier though.”

“Hmm,” he peruses thoughtfully as he leans in, “you probably don’t know too much either, being a lady and all. But you could help me with my sister. I heard about some writer, Hooter or something?”

“Colleen Hoover? Uh, sure, most people like those and they’re an easy read,” you explain, “but if you’re looking for comics about Batman, I have many suggestions. The Dark Knight is a good read, way better than the movie–”

“I got it figured,” he reaches to slide out Batman: Year One. Not a bad choice, actually. “Now you show me this Hoover whatever. Sounds like a dang vacuum.”

He’s demanding but you’ve dealt with worse. Besides, it’s easier at least when they know what they want. You take him around to the table of popular authors.

“A lot of people like It Ends With Us,” you point to the pink cover, “Maybe Someday also tends to be a hit.”

“You talk a lot, don’t ya?” He grumbles as he puts his hand on his hip, his stomach straining inside his jacket.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry, sir,” you take a breath, neck prickling as you feel your nerves spike, “I’m only doing my job. If you don’t need my help–”

“Did I say that? You ever let a man sit in silence?”

You blink at him and your smile evaporates. What a jackass. You could blame it on the badge but you suspect he’s just a completely intolerable person. No wonder his sister didn’t talk to him for so long.

“Sir, you can pay at the front counter. You can also ask any questions you have up there.” You lean back on your heel, “I have stocking to do.”

“Now, don’t you give me that look. Customer’s always right, ain’t they?” You press your lips in a firm line. You glare at him as he snickers, “you got no respect. Ladies these days seem to forget what that means.” He grabs a book from the table without checking the cover, “I’ll be certain to tell the manager how helpful you were, sweetheart.”

He nears and you stand your ground, taking measured breaths as your wits threaten to crack. He looks you up and down and snorts. He winks as he cradles the books in one arm, reaching to boop your nose with his index. You pull away as your chagrin ripples across your face.

“Some ladies just needa learn their place,” he drops his hand and continues on, swaggering in his victory. Pathetic, it’s not that hard to demean someone who can’t talk back.