#a small sensible chuckle for myself

[skullfragments]

i see your "thousand eyes and wings" biblically accurate aziraphale and raise you "biblically accurate according to weird ass medieval illuminations" aziraphale (& bonus crowley)

inspired by this illuminated manuscript page depicting the story of adam and eve:

(i'm pretty sure tumblr fucked the quality on these do please click for full size😭)

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 18

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, angst Wordcount: 4.3K A/C: hey everybody! this will be the last part of the before london section - think of it as book 1. thank you everyone who’s read all of this and been supporting me, i appreciate you endlessly! please send me your thoughts on the chapter or live reactions because i LOVE those so much <333 also thank you for being so patient with me, if you didn’t know my charger broke so i had to write this chapter on my phone lmao. i’m gonna take a teeny break from so it goes to write something else and then get back to it :) i love you guys, thank you for everything <3 i’ve really poured my blood and sweat into this series

-

Before London

Her world comes crashing down. I can tell because she’s clutching to me as if the past three weeks never happened, hyperventilating. Her face is pressed into my shoulder, my hands holding her like no time ever passed. It took the world ending for her to come back to me. I just wish it didn’t take that much.

“Breathe Izzie,” I comfort her, my own panic subsiding to comfort the girl in my arms. Seeing her fall apart made me want to hold it together. Like I wanted to be the strong one for her.

“Remember, in and out with me,” I whisper, my chest expanding against her as I inhale slowly. She copies me, her breathing more ragged and shaky. Eventually, I feel her calm down. Good. There wasn’t much time to waste.

Pulling back I’m shocked to see how horrified she looks. There’s a tingling on my skin from where she pressed against me. She buries her face into her hands, sighing. “What am I going to do?” She murmurs.

“Hey, not you. We,” I remind her, watching the video one more time before putting my phone down. There was no way to twist this. It’s clearly me and Izara - and according to the comments, everyone else figured it out too.

Yoooooo knew they were together since may nooooo my wife paige come home Omg! Paige is gay?

Izzie is pacing in a small circle, heels clicking against the concrete floor. She’s freaking out. I had never seen her like this - Izzie always had solutions to everyone’s problems. She always knew what to do. It wasn’t easy seeing her this way. I had to figure this out for her sake.

”What are you doing?” She asks teary eyed as I lift my phone to my ear, shushing her gently. I listen to the rhythmic slow beep until a familiar voice answers. My PR agent.

”Hey, sorry to call you outta nowhere. I’m in a bit of a situation.”

”What are you doing?” She whispers, her voice trembling. I simply raise my hand, silencing her. I would never do that normally, but in this situation she allows it.

In a hushed voice I explain the situation to my PR agent while Izzie paces around me, hands thrown over her head. I couldn’t even let myself feel ecstatic over getting her to talk to me again. It was all because this was more serious than I could comprehend.

”What did she say?” Iz asks before I’ve even had the chance to fully hang up.

Taking a deep breath, I meet her gaze. ”She said we gotta assume everyone here has seen it,” I say. Her face twists and her eyes begin to well up. ”Everybody except Linda. We gotta make sure no one tells her.”

”There’s no point she’s probably already seen it,” Iz sighs.

”Linda? On social media in the middle of a work day? Ion think so.”

The girl thinks, looking at the low ceilings of the hallways for a while. ”I guess but what about when she gets home.”

”Ok maybe I’m wrong but Linda doesn’t seem like the type to scroll on TikTok or stan Twitter,” I chuckle hoping to earn at least a smile from her. I don’t.

”I don’t know Paige,” she says. Hearing my name from her lips feels ecstatic. Like I could’ve died right then. ”It’s risky.”

”It’s the only chance you got,” I whisper. I wish it wasn’t true. And I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for all this. I had been in a mood that day. I should’ve been more clear-headed, less drunk, more sensible. What were we thinking kissing out in the open like that?

”My PR team is gonna get that video down. Even if others are posting it, they’ll make sure we don’t end up on TMZ or something,” I comfort the girl. But she’s barely listening.

”But what about all the people that are reposting that shit?”

”All we can do is report and hope for the best Iz.”

Goosebumps rise on her skin when I say her name. But it doesn’t matter, because she’s nearly hyperventilating again.

”Fuck. Holy fuck,” she whispers more to herself, turning her back on me and pushing her dark waves back anxiously. 

”Iz,” I mumble, touching her arm cautiously. She pulls back, turning to me.

”This is all your fault you know,” she says harshly, her voice trembling. ”You were a mess that day. I was just trying to calm you down.”

”Bro,” I chuckle dryly, shaking my head. She hates when I call her that. I’m immediately defensive, the guilt underneath gnawing at me. ”Now maybe I misremember but I’m pretty sure you kissed me.”

”Because you were acting like a bloody lunatic!” She shouts. I hush her, praying to God no one heard the way it echoes around the desolate halls. Izara quiets down, burying her face into her hands again. What are we doing? I know she’s fighting me because she’s completely freaked out.

”We gotta stop screaming and make a plan,” I tell her calmly. She stands there quietly defiant until she realises I’m right. ”I’ll talk to my people, you talk to the media team.”

”What if they don’t listen?” She asks me, a hint of vulnerability shining through her exterior.

”Why wouldn’t they?” I reply, placing a hand on her shoulder. She lets me, despite still avoiding my gaze.

”Everybody loves you Iz, and I mean that. Never heard anyone say a bad thing about you.” It’s true. Every word. She had people on her side so easily.

Finally her green eyes stop scanning the room, landing on mine. They’re still the same, even behind the glossiness of a few tears. Reminiscent of Connecticut. Of the overwhelming vibrancy that I sometimes missed here in Dallas. The feeling when you glanced outside in the summer and your eyes were met with such intense greenery of the trees and the grass that you couldn’t bear to look away. What made it even more beautiful was knowing in only a few months it would all be gone, the view turning from orange to yellow as everything that lived dies, reminding you that everything that was alive and flourishing is there only for a fleeting moment until the pure white cover of snow buries everything that’s dead underneath it. That’s what her eyes were - that short moment, a little piece of home.

”Hey,” I whisper softly. ”Don’t give up just yet.”

Izzie nods slowly, looking straight at me. ”Okay.”

-

“Hey, Rike,” I call as I jog over, my mind stuck on how Izara’s holding up.

I had been circling around College Park for what felt like hours - though it hadn’t even been 40 minutes. Izzie had taken a cab to the office to explain our situation to the marketing team, and anyone we hadn’t thought of. I hadn’t heard of her ever since she left, which was making me nervous, on top of the uncomfortable bubbling in my stomach. 

”I was just looking for you,” Arike replies as her eyes widen.

”Me too. Hey uh, to ask but,” I mumble, scratching the back of my head.  I hated asking for favors. ”Could you talk to the team-”

”Already done,” she says. ”And the practice player, coaching staff too.”

I always knew Arike had my back. But not like this. She had truly become my sister, and this was proof.

”They all love you two. No one’s gonna say shit,” she comforts me, patting my shoulder. 

”Thanks bro,” I smile, letting out a sigh of relief. Maybe we could pull this off. No one’s gonna tell.

”Course,” she shrugs easily. ”You know I got you. You’re family, both of y’all.”

-

My heart’s pounding in my chest, each beat like something trying to claw itself out of me. slamming my sternum painfully. Deep breaths, slow down, I remind myself, imagining the weight of Paige pressed against me. It felt almost good enough to make me forget about everything, almost.

I tie my hair up clumsily, my waves overstimulating me. The office seems eerily desolate, having me walk around for a while until I run into Ava, her blonde hair recognisable anywhere.

”Ava,” I sigh, relieved, hurrying to her. I wish I hadn’t worn heels today, my feet already aching. I hadn’t anticipated all this running around.

”Zari! I thought you were in College Park-”

”Can we sit down? Please?” I ask abruptly, interrupting her. She’s surprised by the seriousness in my voice and it shows in her face.

”Of course, what’s up?”

I lead us into an empty office room, pulling out a chair for her. I’m far too nervous to sit down myself.

”Have you seen it?” I ask carefully, looking at the carpeted floor. I can’t believe I was in this situation. Of all people. The sensible, careful Izara. I swear I’ll never be careless again.

There’s a confused look on Ava’s freckled face. ”Seen what?”

Shit. Sighing I dig my phone out of my purse, my ears burning with embarrassment. I look for shock or surprise but to my confusion, Ava watches the video, expressionless.

”Caleb owes me 20 bucks,” she chuckles, handing the phone back.

”Huh?”

She giggles. ”We had a bet, I knew there was something going on with y’all.”

Of course. Like it was ever really a secret. I feel so stupid. Who was I kidding thinking we could keep this on the low.

”Right well,” I mumble, my cheeks turning hot. ”Well it’s everywhere. And I really, really can not let this get to-”

”- Linda,”  Ava finishes my sentence, picking up on my concern.

”Yeah,” I nod. ”I just, I know it doesn’t make it better but it’s not just messing around. I really care about her and I know I’m asking for a lot but-”

”Zari. I’m not telling nobody,” she comforts me. ”And I’ll make sure no one else does. If it’s up to me Linda will never see that, okay?”

I nod, relieved. 

”I’ll also make sure those posts of the video get taken down okay?” Ava smiles, wrapping an arm around me and patting my back. She’s the one managing the algorithms and viewership so her help will be everything.

”Oh my goodness you’re shaking,” she comforts me. I notice the trembling of my legs that are indeed weak, barely holding me upright.

”It’s pretty stressful,” I chuckle coldly, my eyes burning as I hold back tears. Suddenly, the sound of my phone vibrating against the table makes me jump. It’s Paige.

“Hey,” I answer. The rumbling of traffic comes through before her voice.

“Hey, I’m driving over. All good at College Park.”

“Here too,” I say, smiling bye to Ava as she leaves me to talk with the blond. “Just gotta wait for the PR team to get out of their meeting.”

“You tell Trey yet?” She asks. Oh shit. Trey. 

“I haven’t seen him,” I admit. A moment of silence falls upon us.

“I’mma be there in like 10 minutes okay?”

“Paige,” I start, feeling a throbbing ache in my shoulder. “It’s okay, you don’t need to come here.”

The line goes silent, the quiet hum of the road and traffic coming through. 

“You don’t want me to?”

Reaching over to my neck I massage the tension but it doesn’t go away. Is that really what I want? Why is it so hard to figure it out?

“No, I need you here,” I finally accept. Despite the tension and the mess between us it was clear that I needed her. That her presence made everything better. That’s just what Paige is like. She brings the sun with her wherever she goes.

-

I’m picking at my skin when the blonde emerges into the empty office lobby, holding two cups. She looks surprisingly serene considering - though it wasn’t her job that was on the line.

“What’s this?” I ask as she hands one of the cups to me. It feels warm against my skin.

“Coffee, black,” she says absentmindedly, taking a seat in the chair next to mine, taking a sip of the frappucino she got for herself.

I do the same, feeling the warm bitter taste fill my mouth. It’s just how I liked it. My heart throbs. Mind overflowing with the memories of our little habit. Of Paige getting up half an hour earlier than she needed just to go pick up some coffee for me on the way to work.

”Better?” Paige asks, sprawled comfortably next to me. I can feel the heat of her thigh tingling against mine but I can’t be bothered to move, or to pretend like I didn’t need her. I felt myself fantasizing about some reality where Linda would understand. Where me and the blonde could just be together. No complications, no excuses, no goddamn hiding. It would be so much easier to let myself fall in love with her in a reality like that.

”Much better,” I mumble. ”Thanks.”

”It’s just a coffee Iz,” she murmurs, shrugging it off.

”No,” I shake my head. ”You don’t have to be doing this. You could easily just leave me to handle it myself. But you didn’t.”

My eyes meet hers, blue and vibrant like the ocean. 

She shakes her head, brows furrowing gently. ”I wouldn’t do that,” she whispers. ”It’s half my fault… Okay a lil more than a half.”

She chuckles a little looking at her feet. ”For what it’s worth I am sorry for that night.”

Paige looks regretful, playing with her bracelet. 

”Me too.”

A throbbing ache runs along my spine to my shoulderblades, the tightness making it hard to breathe. Absent-mindedly my hand shoots to my neck, pressing and rubbing. Paige glances at me.

”Your shoulders again?” She asks. Honestly the only time in my life they hadn’t bothered me was probably when Paige would give me daily massages. Something about her got me to finally relax.

”Again,” I chuckle awkwardly. Without hesitation Paige’s warm and familiar hands replace mine, massaging the knot out of my shoulderblade. My body melts, the tension easing in my face and neck.

”Thank you,” I hum, letting my eyelids close. Pretending just for a moment that we were us again.

”That’s funny,” Paige says smiling, ”You sound more British again.”

I smile too, her fingers now pressing down on the nape of my neck. ”I suppose. It’s probably because I haven’t been around you.”

Sounds of steps stop us, Paige pulling away as two people from marketing walk by, smiling at us knowingly as they greet us. Sighing, I lean back in the chair and rub my forehead.

”It’s like everyone’s watching us,” I mumble quietly.

”Guess I’m used to it,” Paige replies. She’s right, it’s only new to me. Somehow she’s been handling this since high school.

”Did you um, get the chocolate?” She asks, fiddling with the hem of her black shorts.

”Yeah,” I hum, thinking of the note attached to it. I felt completely stuck between two roads, not sure which one to take. On the other hand nothing about us made sense. But still I wanted her more than anything. I couldn’t imagine ever being able to want anyone like I want her. 

It was like my entire life had been split into two - the time before Paige and the time after. Everything before felt irrelevant. She had come into my life with a crash, when I most needed her but didn’t know I did. She had irrevocably changed me. I don’t know how I could go back to before.

”It was amazing, I can’t believe you remembered,” I continue.

”Course I did,” she huffs, leaning her head on the wall behind us, cracking her knuckles. Terror washes over me. I realise how badly I need our plan to work. Because if it doesn’t I’ll lose her forever.

Paige opens her mouth before closing it, and opening it again.

”I meant what I said, y’know.”

I lift my gaze from my crossed ankles to her, to find her already looking over. She seems hesitant, gathering courage.

”In that note,” she adds, cheeks red. ”I’m not going anywhere.”

I can feel it in the way my heart throbs, the way my eyes burn, the way my eyes are glued on her angular face, the way my slender fingers slide between her’s like a habit I could never break and the way her touch send shivers up my spine - I love her. I do.

Paige’s breathing is shallow, glancing downward to our hands that are locked together. Neither of us have to say it. We both feel it.

The moment I wish would go on forever is cruelly interrupted by the buzzing emerging from the pocket of her shorts. With one hand she digs the phone out, reading the screen grip remaining on mine.

”Shit, I got practice,” she whispers, as to not disrupt the moment. Her voice is hoarse and vulnerable. I wanted to listen to it forever.

”Okay,” I hum, standing up with her. ”I’ll wait for Trey here.”

Paige looks at me once more before enveloping me into her arms, nose buried into my hair and inhaling unashamedly. I do it too, allowing myself to breathe her in. Sandalwood and musk and deodorant.

”It’s all gonna be okay,” she whispers. And I believe her.

Paige kisses my forehead before pulling back, letting go of my hand. Her touch leaves my skin burning. Even before she goes, I already miss her.

”I’ll call you Paige,” I hum softly.

”Okay. I’ll see you later Iz.”

And she walks away, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I’m nearly nodding off in my chair, head lulling back as my eyelids grow heavy. I glance at my phone once more. No text, no call. Just the sent receipt under the tens of texts I had sent Trey. Our one missing link to get this all to be over.

Standing up, I roam around the office, finding Caleb and Ava editing a video for Youtube.

”Hey, have you seen Trey?” I ask, rubbing my face tiredly.

”You lost me 20 bucks,” Caleb jokes, having bet against me and Paige being romantically involved. Ava chuckles.

”It’s not on her if you’re completely blind.”

I wish I had it in me to find this as fun as they did, but I just wanted to finish this and go home.

”Trey? You seen him?” I ask again, ignoring their jokes.

”I think he’s upstairs,” Caleb answers. ”Some sorta meeting.”

Finally. ”Thank you.”

In a rush, I hurry to the elevator, impatiently spamming the button to the upper floor. 

“C’mon,” I mutter to myself, ready to get this over with.

Finally the doors slide open. Stepping out into the new floor, I begin to hurry along the corridors when from around a corner Trey emerges, his face buried into his phone nearly bumping into me.

“Trey!” I say with relief. “I’ve been looking for you!”

He looks uneasy, avoiding my gaze. Much like he had ever since I rejected him.

“You know I’ve been texting you too,” I huff lightheartedly, poking his phone.

“I saw,” he murmurs, voice uncharacteristically low and quiet. I chase his gaze, finally catching his brown eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” I say more seriously. Trey bites down on his lower lip, shutting his eyelids and rubbing his face.

“I’m in a hurry okay?”

“It won’t take long,” I tell him, placing a hand on his forearm so he won’t walk away.

“Zari, I gotta go,” he spits, pushing past me. Wow, I knew I hurt him when I rejected his kiss but I didn’t realise his ego was that fragile.

“Seriously?” I ask, annoyed now. “Trey, it's been weeks. Let it go.”

He turns, growing irritated. “Nah, I’m sick of you and your little mind games.”

“Mind games?!” I hiss condescendingly, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You been toying with me and Paige ever since you moved here!”

He knows? I glance around before shushing him, praying to God nobody heard. Of course he knows.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” I whisper angrily.

“I saw your little video.”

Shit. Heart throbbing in my chest I swallow, wanting to crawl into my skin and disappear. Kissing my teeth I look down trying to find the words.

“Look, Trey-“

“Save it. Can’t wait for you to be back in London.”

Hold on. “What?”

I take a step closer to Trey, who’s looking at me heavy lidded.

“You broke the rules Izara,” he says with a low voice.

The realisation hits me like a ton of bricks. No fucking way. Of course. My stomach drops. My pulse thunders in my ears.

“You told her,” I whisper, waves of anger washing over me. It took a lot for me to be enraged - but right now I was livid. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, nearly drawing bloos.

Trey looks uneasy, eyes flickering away from me. “Rules are rules Izara.”

Tears fill my eyes, welling up by my bottom lashes. I should’ve listened to everyone who hated Trey. Because they were right. He’s disgusting. I truly hate him.

“Don’t act like you care about rules. You did this because you couldn’t handle the fact that I do not have feelings for you,” I hiss, pointing a finger at him. “You’re disgusting.”

The ringing of my phone breaks off my voice, like a bad omen. Trey grins. I want to kill him.

“Must be Linda,” he says before turning and disappearing into the elevator.

My hands shake as I grab my phone - the screen lit up, proving Trey right.

-

Paige,

Remember that roadtrip we took? Driving with no plan or destination with the windows down, being stuck in that gross hotel, the storm, the night we spent together? I think about that all the time. With anyone else I would’ve been terrified. I’m no good without a plan (Lord knows). But with you I never cared about a plan. You’re so sure, so certain, so comfortable and steady it made it safe to feel out of control sometimes. That’s a gift I’ll carry with me forever. I never had that with anyone.

I never thought this is how my time in Dallas would turn out. Deep inside I want to blame someone. I want to blame Trey, and maybe when you hear about what happened you will too. But we shouldn’t. Because there’s no one to blame but me. I’ve been smart all my life. I should’ve been smarter. But something about you makes it impossible to be smart.

Still, despite everything that happened I don’t regret any of it. This summer has been the best of my life. Getting to know you has been the greatest blessing. I’d never say it to your face, but you’ve taught me more about myself than anyone.  I’ve never been loved so well, and I’ll never forget that. But my past is still haunting me. It’s just not our time.

I’m sorry it turned out this way. I know you’ll find someone and make her the happiest girl in the world, like you did me. And I’ll always regret not doing more to make us work. For not telling you how I love you. And I’ll have to live with that.

I hope you find your person who can love you how you deserve. Just know there are no hard feelings with you and me. I think no matter what it wasn’t meant to work. I don’t belong in Texas… but then again does anyone?

I’m sorry. I told you I’m not good at goodbyes.

Yours, Izzie

Reading through the letter one more time, I fold it in half and slide it into Paige’s apartment through the mail slot. For a moment I lean my forehead against the wood panels on the door, as if it’s Paige. But it’s not. And I’ll never lean my forehead on her again. I’ll never look into the blue of her eyes, I’ll never taste her lips.

A tear falls down my cheeks as the elevator takes me to the ground floor for one last time. I bite down on my lower lip to stop it from trembling, watching the driver lift my bags into the trunk. 

The cab drives through Dallas, through the neighbourhoods that had once been unfamiliar. Now I know the streets and the weather and the drive-thru barbeque place that has the best ribs. But London was calling me home. There was nothing left for me here anymore.

My heart aches, thinking about the disappointment in Linda’s voice, telling me she had no chance but to let me go. That she expected more of me. 

But the ache is nothing compared to what I feel when I think about Paige. My sweet, funny American girl. Her laughter echoes in my head, and I let her linger. My nails dig into my seat, like they did into Paige’s skin. 

I wouldn’t forget the summer I spent with Paige Bueckers until the day I die, that I know for certain. She would haunt me for the rest of my life, pieces of her existing in every person I meet. But no one will ever measure up, no one will ever be her. And maybe in another life we’ll grow old and grey together. And that’s the only thought comforting me as the clouds part, the plane circling above Thames, the London Eye and Buckingham Palace when we approach Heathrow.

-

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[alittlerobin]

Roger/Kate

tags: nsfw; oral, face-fucking, intercrural, dacryphilia, rough play word count: 2.3k

She stood outside the door to the lab, wringing her hands into her skirts as she worked up the nerve to go inside. 

Not like it mattered. She couldn’t just turn around and leave, because he’d already know she was there. She knew he always listened to her footsteps, to her heartbeat, knowing exactly when she approached and when she shied away. If she left now, she’d doubtlessly hear him calling out to her, that smooth and cocky voice telling her to stop fretting and get her butt inside. 

Squaring her shoulders, she pressed her hands against the door and pushed it open. There was no point knocking, anyway. Roger sat at his main lab table, his gaze trained on a thick stack of notes. He didn’t react, but he would’ve known she was coming to see him the moment her foot took the first step down into the basement. 

She crossed the room halfway, then stopped, staying out of reach. Except Roger didn’t look at her. He simply kept scribbling on the page, the pencil lead scratching the paper with each quick stroke. 

It was her choice to come here. Her choice to ask him for help. But… come on, couldn’t he catch the hint and let her off easy for once?

She huffed, cheeks puffed out and pouty… and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle.

“Need something, lil lady?”

Yes. She did.

She’d been stressed, frustrated. During the last mission, her mistake had gotten Jude stabbed. And no matter how much Ellis insisted it would’ve happened regardless, it didn’t help. She was definitely better now than when she’d joined Crown, stronger, more sensible, but… it wasn’t enough. She wanted to do more, help more, fight more—and when she failed, it made her angry with herself, with no real outlet for it.

“......I need to cry.”

The pencil dropped. “Oh.”

“But I can’t make myself cry, no matter what I try right now, so…” She kept her gaze down, watching the floor as she spoke, but she heard the scraping of the stool as Roger pushed it back. She didn’t need to look up to know he would be staring at her in anticipation. “...Will you make me cry?”

“And that’s already my reward for helping out, yeah?”

A small smile cracked the corners of her lips. He tried to play it off, but she didn’t need his ability to hear the hitch in his breath. “I’ll remind you that right now, you owe me a favor, not the other way around.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, his feet were on the floor before her and her chin was being lifted. 

Roger cradled her face in his large hands and stroked a thumb across her cheek. His touch was gentle, almost curious, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “You wanna be more specific about how I can make you cry?”

She… couldn’t say it out loud. Even if she’d managed to bring herself here, she wasn’t sure if she could string those words together. If she could ask him outright, plead for him to be rough like always, to make it seem like he was taking what he wanted by force when they both knew how down bad they were for each other—even if they refused to bring that dirty little fact out into the open. 

She met his amber gaze straight on, body tense and lips pursed, but her determination unwavering. 

It only took a second for him to smirk and say, “Or do you want me to hazard a guess?”

As if he didn’t already know the answer. “You know... what I like.”

“Yeah, I sure as hell do.”

He didn’t waste time. One arm snaked around her waist, while his other hand jerked her in by the chin as he crashed their mouths together. Any leeway he usually gave her was gone, the sweetness of ill-advised under-the-fireworks kisses forsaken in lieu of teeth pulling on her lower lip and a tongue thrusting into her mouth. 

But that was exactly what she wanted. 

Her fingers curled against his vest, feeling the firm muscle beneath—and she shivered, knowing exactly how it felt to be pinned beneath his strong arms and broad chest, only ever pretending she didn’t want to give him everything. 

One of his hands traveled up her chest, palming one of her breasts and squeezing it. Another deep chuckle rumbled against her mouth, and he shifted his mouth away, pressing his lips to her ear instead. “No corset today? Thought you were a proper, decent woman.”

“Well…” She bit back a whimper as he pinched a nipple, pain sparking with pleasure. “I also know what you like…”

“You sure as hell do.” The echo of their words rolled warm against her ear, making her whole body shiver. His hand kneaded her breasts through the fabric of her blouse and his teeth tugged on her earlobe. She didn’t know how he did it, how he got her so wet so fast, already aching to feel his fingers inside her. 

Only he didn’t hitch up her skirts like he usually did.

Instead, he pushed her down, her skirts barely cushioning her knees as they hit the cold laboratory floor. Maybe she wasn’t good with getting the words out yet, but she could raise her hands, undoing the fastening of his pants as soon as he’d stripped off his belt. 

His cock sprang free, half-hard and already intimidating. His large hand wrapped around the base, giving it a few quick strokes as she parted her lips, tipping up to kiss it. The salt of his precum had barely hit her tongue before his hands were in her hair, twisting into the strands as he fucked into her mouth. 

He was so big and thick it made her jaw ache. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping roughly, the pull almost there but not enough. Not enough to draw out the tears she wanted to spill. Not until he started to thrust into her mouth, fast and deep, pumping himself down her throat. 

It wasn’t the first time. She’d had him in her mouth before, after a night of a few too many drinks at his favorite pub. That night, he’d carried her up the castle stairs in his arms while she nuzzled her face in the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of beer, medicine, and a musk that was distinctly him. He’d set her down in her bed, but she was the one who’d refused to let go, who fumbled with his clothes and his belt and sucked him into her mouth before he could hiss out a warning. 

Roger had been gentle then, coaxing her with softly muttered encouragements. He’d stroked her hair gently and slid his hand to her throat, instructing her on how to relax it so she could take more and more of him in, until her nose nestled into the dark curls all the way at the hilt. 

But tonight, she didn’t want gentle and he wasn’t giving it to her. Her fingers gripped his thighs, bracing herself as she tried not to choke on each hard snap of his hips, a mist finally building in her eyes. 

Almost there…

That’s what she wanted. For him to use her, to be rough and domineering even while he groaned and muttered, “Good girl, just look at how good you take me. Came down here just to get on your knees and suck my cock like that, looking so blissed out even though I’ve barely touched you.”

Was that how she looked? Lips parted, eyes hazy, a blush burning across her cheeks? Enraptured to have his cock down her throat and his fists full of her hair, her mind and body pleading for anything he’d give her? 

Moaning, her lashes fluttered as she shifted, knowing that if she slid a hand between her thighs he’d just slap it away. She rested herself on the heel of her foot, just to put a bit of pressure against her aching cunt.  

That first night, after she’d swallowed thick ribbons of his cum, Roger had fucked her with four of his fingers, muffling each of her moans with kisses as he brought her to climax again and again. She had barely been able to get out of bed in the morning, body aching and thighs sore, her mind reeling from bad decisions. 

But it had been so good. And so, so, so good every time after. Every mission together, every late night in the lab, every hasty fumble when the stress grew too great and the need too tempting.

She arched her tongue and sucked as best she could as he sank himself deep, hitting the back of her throat with a bruising pace. A moment later, she heard him swear, his fingers leaving her hair as he pulled out. Roger hastily squeezed his fingers around the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm. 

Kate was about to object, to plead for him to cum in her mouth, on her face, whatever he wanted. Instead, he jerked her up to her feet and yanked her around, throwing her facedown onto his table. 

Glass shattered somewhere—perhaps a vial—but neither of them reacted. Roger bent over her, dwarfing her body with his. He flipped up her skirts and dragged down her underwear, rubbing the tip of his hard cock between her dripping wet folds. 

He wouldn’t—she knew he wouldn’t—but her stomach still tightened and her legs quivered as she mewled out a barely audible, “N-no…” 

She didn’t even mean it anymore. It was automatic, the faint protest now only a formality in whatever the hell it was they had going on between them. Because even as she said no, she pushed back against him, helping coat him in the slick nectar dripping down her thighs. 

“You sure?” His mouth was hot against her ear, voice low and deep. His hands took hold of her waist, keeping her bent over the table as he thrust his cock between her thighs. “Because I can hear how fast your heart’s beating right now, and I bet it’d beat even faster if I fucked right inside you. Fucked in nice and deep... Bet you’d like it fast and rough, till those pretty nails of yours carved into the wood cause you didn’t know if you wanna beg me to stop or take you even harder.” 

A moan spilled from her lips, picturing it as she rubbed herself onto him. The fat tip of his cock caught on her entrance, just at the brink. If she tipped herself back, he’d fill her just like he said. She wanted it, wanted to be stretched out on his thick cock, wanted it inside her, scoring her, molding her to its shape. 

“Don’t you want that, Kate?” His fingers tightened on her waist, bruising her skin, and he pushed—but instead of slipping inside, he slid between her folds. Her insides clenched, empty and wanting, practically screaming for him to claim her.

“N-no…”

“You sure? Cause I think you do.” He bucked hard, each thrust made easy by the nectar flowing out of her. His cock rubbed between her folds, catching her clit for a brief second, only enough to tease and drive her crazy. “I think you want me fucking you, filling you up till my cum drips down your thighs. I’d fuck you so good, fuck you till your legs gave out, and then I’d eat it out of you while you soaked my tongue, barely able to remember anything except how to moan my name.”

“Th-that…” Sounded so good. She could picture it, could see how he’d fold her in half and drive himself deep until she screamed his name and begged him to keep going. “Ahh, Roger, p-please—”

“Please what, huh?”

“Please… everything.”

She felt him lean down, brushing his lips across the nape of her neck, and then he forced her legs tighter together, fucking between them at brutal pace. Her hips dug into the edge of the table, pain blending with pleasure, and she gasped when she felt him spilling between her thighs. 

A second later, he’d flipped her over, throwing her legs over his shoulders. He hitched her higher, her spine arching as his mouth went straight to her cunt, two fingers plunging inside along with his tongue. She would’ve thrashed from the pure pleasure if the arm around her waist didn’t hold her steady, pushing her further onto his mouth. He fucked her open and sucked on her clit until she came, gasping and crying and squirting onto his tongue. 

It was so good, so fucking good all she could do was squirm, moaning his name again and again. Tears finally, finally spilled down her cheeks and she sobbed as he kept going. He ate her out, taking her from her first orgasm straight to the second. Her legs trembled, followed by her entire body until the pulses became so strong she had to grab fistfuls of his hair and force him away from her, clenching her legs shut as she shook with rapture. 

Roger handled her so easily, a smirk on his glistening lips as he set her down on the table and wrapped her in his arms. He pulled her close, kissing her mouth, then her face, seeking out his payment. The flat of his tongue swept across her skin, licking up every tear before he pressed two gentle kisses to each of her eyelids. 

"Feeling better?" 

Catching her breath, Kate nodded and draped her arms around his neck. She didn’t bother trying to let the tears stop. Instead, she let them flow freely as she buried her face in his neck and whispered a barely audible plea of, "...Again."

Dividers by @natimiles

[vulpinexi]

other than their first meeting, it seemed like kiryu had a bad habit of getting himself into trouble. to be honest, that was nothing new. seemed his blood was tainted with such things. he would never quite know peace. there would always be someone or something to come in and try to ruin things and he would have to fight them off like his life depended on it. there was a light sigh that passed through his lips as he looked at here. then the tiniest smile appeared on his face as he let out a chuckle.

”i’m sorry that it seems that way. seems trouble follows me wherever i go and i can’t quite shake it off. hopefully, you don’t take offense to this. i’ve got to defend myself in some way.” he didn’t think there would ever really be a day where he would not be covered in blood to some extent. “if you wouldn’t mind getting me something so i can at least clean the blood off my face..” @liinsomniac

A   sigh   slips   past   her   lips,   inaudible   yet   substantial,   carrying   familiarity.   By   now,   it's   routine—his   silhouette   darkening   her   doorway   in   the   dead   of   night,   bruised   and   bleeding,   CRIMSON   painting   his   features   like   a   morbid   artist’s   brushstrokes.

Her   focus   wanders   on   him,   perusing,   evaluating.   A   slash   captured   her   attention,   deeper   than   all   the   others,   puncturing   into   his   torso   with   cruel   precision.   It   looks   severe.   Hospital   would   be   a   sensible   option.   But   she   already   knew   how   that   conversation   would   unfold.   Kazuma   is   a   tornado   of   intransigence.

Without   further   ado,   she   turns   on   her   heels,   disappearing   into   the   bathroom.   A   moment   later,   she   appears,   pressing   a   towel   into   his   waiting   hands—a   silent   command.   The   textile   is   rough   against   his   pores.

Her   voice   continues,   delicate   yet   leaving   no   room   for   argument.   "Take   off   your   shirt,   if   you   please."   There   is   no   question   in   it.   Her   hands   were   already   moving,   retrieving   a   small,   well-worn   first   aid   kit   from   its   position.   A   flick   of   the   latch,   performed   with   ease.   "That   laceration   on   your   stomach   won't   heal   itself,   Kazuma-san."   A   quiet   clink   of   glass   as   she   grasps   for   a   bottle   perched   on   a   nearby   shelf,   its   amber   liquid   shining   in   the   low   light.   She   sets   it   down   on   the   coffee   table   between   them.   "You’ll   need   to   numb   yourself.   Not   the   exquisite   kind   you’re   used   to,   but   it   will   do."

[pacifymebby]

Born To Die / Eleven

I didn't want to leave him behind but I knew I had to.

He held me tight to his chest, his big arms making me feel ever so small, so shielded from the world as we lingered for one final moment longer in that dingey stairwell.

"Y'canna go back through the club cause Will and Kelly might be watchin the door," he said quietly, rushing his words out with an urgency that sent my heart racing.

Made me realise the trap we'd fallen into. The one I'd forced us into.

"I canna go through the fire escape cause Van might have someone watchin me..." I said swallowing a lump in my throat as I realised quite how stupid I'd been. Now that I'd had my hit, now that I was there with him, held in his arms, my desperation to be near him had given way to my usual, more sensible way of thinking and I was realising just how stupid my plan had been.

"Aye, he's got someone watchin you but he don't care enough when you're hurt to give you the neet off..." he mumbled bitterly, shaking his head when I looked up at him with wide eyes. How had he known about that terrible evening I'd spent singing at The Angel with my sprained ankle and my teary eyes. "Divnt look at me like that pet, word gets around y'nar... y'nar a thought about poppin round, giving him a taste his own medicine like" he said trailing off with an awkward little chuckle when I shook my head slowly, my little smirk mirroring his. We both knew he could never have done that. Whether he'd been angry with Van or not. If Sam had set foot ok Van's territory the day after his family had started a war with ours, well he'd have been dead by now. Thrown in the Mersey.

I shook my head, stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"I'm glad you didnt." I said quietly, letting my fingers trail through his hair before I stepped back. His eyes flickered over me. In the dim light I thought I saw him blushing. And then he glanced over his shoulder once more and remembered what we'd been trying to plan.

"Y'can go upstairs an come back down, find your friends..."

"What if I canna find them?" I bit my lip, looking up at him with lost eyes, too teary and too forlorn for my own good. This was my mess and I needed to face up to it, needed to be brave, deal with this trick I'd played on myself and come out all the smarter for it.

"Then y'go outside and you get in a taxi... Y'go straight home alreet angel? A promise I'll get a message to you..." He said again, unable to resist a kiss to my lips between promises.

"Ok," I nodded, blinking away my tears, resigning myself to the truth we both understood. That before I could get in the back of a taxi one of Vans men would probably intersect me. Pull me into the back of their own car and drive me back, captive, to their side of town.

"An if one of Van's lads see you you wave at em, you pretend like you divnt know you're in the wrong place..."

"Reet." I nodded along, trying to gather some determination in myself. Trying to remember how I'd felt earlier with that bump of coke stoking my confidence. Sam gazed down at me, held my face in the palm of his hand, thumb brushing over my skin gently before he gave me a reassuring little pat.

"Divnt be scared Meadow, y'can be brave pet I've seen y'before..." Said Sam offering me a little smile, kissing my dimple when it popped at his words.

I turned as if to run away from him then, about to dart up the stairs without looking back. But of course I looked back, caught his eyes pooling with the same desperation I knew swirled in mine, and let them draw me back to him, the magnetism between us like that between the moon and the sun. As I threw my arms around his neck and pushed my lips to his in a feverish kiss, I felt just as doomed as the moon and the sun. Just as doomed to always be leaving him, never able to linger and hold on.

I felt him melt into the kiss, felt his body brace to catch me and balance us, felt him soften as he slid his hands beneath my dress and lifted me up off my feet. He held me and I held onto him unable to let go. I never wanted to let go of him and as I opened my mouth for his tongue I felt myself melting into his embrace too.

In that moment all I wanted was for him to take me back to his mates cafe, take me back somewhere we wouldn't be found, so that he could hold me all night and I could know, for the first time in my life, what it meant to be loved.

But in the end he had to pull away, he had to let me slip from his waist to plant my feet firmly on the ground. And though I trembled when I tried to regain my balance, the ache of leaving him shivering me cold, I felt a little more brave for having kissed him, for having felt him hold me as close, as desperately as he had.

"Wait for me message angel," were his final words to me and though he hadn't said it, I knew he meant "I love you."

I knew he was telling me to keep myself safe, because just as I'd spent the days worrying about him, wondering if I'd ever see him again, he'd spent his days fearing for me.

And then I slipped away from him, knew better than to look back for him again as I fled up the stairs, trying not to rattle the stairs as I made my way up them as quickly as I could.

I heard the sudden wave of music, the thumping bass from the next room blast through the door downstairs when Sam opened it and slipped back through to the dancefloor. I shivered as the door shut behind him and swallowed the sound whole.

And then I did the same.

I took a moment to collect myself, a moment to fix my smudged red lips and my hair. I didn't want to look like I could have been the girl Sam had been ravishing. Didn't want to draw any attention to myself at all. And then with one final breath and the words "be brave meadow" I opened the door and slipped out onto the balcony, doing my best to get lost between other bodies. If I stuck close to the shadows of strangers I might slip past any watching eyes unnoticed.

I caught sight of Suki, curled up in a cigarette burned couch, her arm resting along the back of it as she smoked and looked up with fawn eyes at the lad she had met earlier... Or perhaps this was a new man now. I couldn't tell. The air was thick with smoke and dry ice and it was hard to see through the flashing lights.

I didn't think she'd seen me until her eyes lit up and she jumped in her seat waving me over to her much to the disappointment of the man who'd been watching her with awe in his eyes.

"Meadow!" She beamed linking my arm with hers as she made room for me to sit beside her. "I was about to come lookin for yas, Shelly's ringin Gene to see if he'll give us a lift home..."

Now that I was sitting beside her I could see that she was a little worse for wear after all. She was still devestatingly beautiful and effortlessly so, but I could tell that she was tired now and I couldn't help but feel relieved to know that I wasn't the only one who needed to go home.

"Oh good!" I smiled, "am knackered like, need me bed!"

"Ugh tell me about it." She said courieing into me with her head on my shoulder.

The lad she'd been with gave us the once over and gave up breathing a "for fucks sake" as he stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off

"I don't know..." She sighed dramatically, "the caliber of Geordie men just ain't what it used to be..."

"Aye..." I sighed nodding along, letting myself slip down the sofa, arms folded across my chest as my head fell onto hers. The two of us looking tired and glum though we were glum for very different reasons.

My pout was all for Sam. My mind already drifting back to him. Wondering where he was going now, who he'd spend the rest of his night with now that I was no longer in it.

When Shelley returned to us she was smiling giving us the thumbs up.

"He's leaving now," she smiled "should only be fifteen minutes or something, he said he'd bring us some water..."

"Oh int he sweet, why can't all men be like your gene eh?" asked Suki drawing a laugh and an eye roll from Shelley.

"I didn't find Gene in a nightclub..." she smirked.

"Can we wait outside?" asked Suki with a sigh pressing her empty glass to her forehead. "Got a bangin headache..." she screwed her face up and shuddered and though I was reluctant to spend too long outside where i might be seen by one of Van's mates, I couldn't help but sympathise with the girl.

"Aye," i sighed helping her up, "go on then lets go..."

We left together, the three of us linking arms. Suki let her head rest on my shoulders and we wandered sleepily out into the early morning street.

It was cold outside and the three of us huddled together for warmth as we sheltered against the wall. Suki took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them around but i was hardly paying attention. I was too distracted, trying to scan the street for anyone i recognised. Anyone who might recognise me.

I was fearful until i realised there was no need to be fearful. When i realised there were none of Van's men anywhere to be seen, well then i just felt glum. My mind returned to Sam and i remembered the way his fingers had felt on my cheek, the way his lips had moved so hungrily against mine. How my heart had fluttered in my chest under his touch. How I'd no idea when I'd get to feel those things again. Perhaps i never would...

It was a morbid way of thinking but I knew it was the realistic way too. Because our families were at war and every second Sam and I spent apart, we spent in harms way. If Van was feeling crazy he might pull a move against Sam's family which ended up taking Sam out with it. He could wind up in a fight and get himself stabbed or shot. There were so many little threats which could snatch him away from me. Every time we said goodbye it could mean forever.

That was why when Gene pulled up I looked as sad and sorry as I did. Why when I looked up and locked eyes with someone I hadn't noticed before, I looked guilty.

As Suki pushed off away from the wall I followed a pace behind, my sorrow dragging me back. Making the effects of all the alcohol and other things feel suddenly stronger.

"Alreet ladies y'carriage awaits!" grinned Gene as he opened the passenger side door for Shelley. She all but fell down exhausted, smiling with relief as she leant back in her chair.

"Fuckin hell..." breathed Suki her own smile exhausted as she opened the back door and slid across the seats leaving only me stood still in the street. Hesitating by the door.

Because I'd seen someone across the road who knew me very well. Knew i wasnt supposed to be on this side of town. Had probably been sent to watch me, had probably been waiting all night to see me come stumbling out of the incriminating club.

I did my best to raise my hand to wave at Larry, did my best to force a smile as I called out to him but I could tell it didn't do any good. I could hear the guilt in my voice and knew that come tomorrow or perhaps later tonight there'd be consequences to pay for my reckless mistake.

[stxrshxpxd]

autumn

pairing: 90s professor hugh grant x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: student x teacher

prompt: reader falls for her university professor and she thinks it just might be a mutual feeling…

requested by anonymous <3

September.

I had seen Mr. Grant twice in passing on my walks across campus and through the seemingly endless hallways of marble flooring and dark stain wooden arches, on my little quests to navigate my way through my new university. The first time I had turned my head rather indiscreetly and nearly walked into a massive pillar as I studied his locks of brown hair bouncing away from me along with his rushing steps. The second time I had felt a stab deep in my stomach at the sight of him across the library, pulling his hand through said locks of brown hair, before ending his short conversation with the headmaster and quickly disappearing again.

My third encounter with him came on a September morning with ambiguous weather. I sat watching the strong sun begin to beam through the patchy coat of clouds and chase the morning mist away. As the doors opened to the lecture room I expected a large pregnant belly to enter first, but instead that pain in my stomach returned at the sight of Mr Grant marching inside. There were scattered whispers and mumbles around the room. I had no one to whisper to, and so I took a deep breath and secured my gaze on the bronze buckle of his belt and bit the inside of my cheek.

“I take it Mrs. Sherman hadn’t told you who would be filling in for her,” he chuckled at the palpable surprise in the room. “Well. It’s lovely to meet you all. I’m Professor Grant. I do recognise a few faces around the room.” His gaze hopped between students and he gave a handful of them soft smiles, skipping over me. “Well… Mrs. Sherman went into labour on Sunday and now has a little baby girl at home.” I noticed he spoke with his whole face and half his body, smiling, raising his brows and opening his arms in celebration at the happy news. “So, I will be teaching the rest of your Literary Analysis course this year.”

The sun had come to lay across half his body and was making the silver ring on his pinky glow brightly.

“I heard you’re reading Sense and Sensibility,” he said and a few of the students nodded in silence, backs straight and ears eagerly open. Mr. Grant swiftly pulled out a small, weathered copy of the book in question from the back pocket of his black suit trousers. For some reason that act made the stabbing in my abdomen worse. I held in a sigh at the fear that everything he did would make my stomach wrench in agony.

October.

The rain was beating aggressively against the large windows to my right and added to the soundtrack of Mr. Grant humming between his nods as well as tapping his index finger softly against the desk he was half sitting back on. I had lost track of what the student behind me was saying about Children of the Corn but forced myself to hurriedly tune back into the monologue once I felt Professor Grant’s eyes resting on me occasionally. I anticipated his question and I searched my mind quickly.

“That’s a very nice analysis, Thomas, thank you. Y/N, what thoughts did this story provoke for you?”

I couldn’t recall a time when I had properly shared my analysis directly with him before. My written words about Sense and Sensibility had been met with a seeming intrigue on his behalf though.

I greatly appreciate the depth of your character analysis. It shows you have a strong sense of morality and can view a person from a number of perspectives without favouring one. That is a very helpful tool. I am eager to hear more of your thoughts this year!

I had read the scribbled comment at the bottom of my short essay over and over, and right now they were the only words in my brain.

“Um, well, I think King has an incredible way of creating an atmosphere with just a few words. It’s quite remarkable.”

Mr. Grant nodded and smiled in agreement. Finally my thoughts caught up with me and I stammered on, all the while staring at the previously hidden forearms now sticking out of Grant’s rolled up sleeves.

“And, um… the thought that followed me all the way through the story is the exploration of religion in the modern world. Oftentimes I feel that religion is this untouchable and completely unstoppable thing that is, sort of, ironically out of our hands. You know, do we create it or does it create us?” Professor Grant’s smile grew slightly and I looked away, desperately trying to not lose my train of thought to the beauty of his pale, soft face.

“And also what is the difference between religion and cult, what defines them? …And why is one seemingly the pinnacle of good and the other inherently evil, if the line between them is so blurred, or indeed can’t be drawn at all? …Is ruthlessly shunning and marginalising people not just as bad as brutally killing them in a corn field? It’s just a choice of mental or physical death really. Except there isn’t a choice.”

I looked back at my professor once I had gotten my sentences out. He nodded slowly and pondered calmly with that satisfied smile on his lips, as I sat half panicking in the silence. All I could hear were my words echoing in the air between us.

“And do you think it should be stopped? Religion.”

He tilted his head and I took a deep breath in, in the midst of my light panic. He chuckled sympathetically with me, realising the magnitude of the question he had just asked.

“Yes and no, of course… I just think that it’s been a hell of a long time since society existed without religion, it might well be very healthy for us to step back and consider the world without it.”

“So, yes?” Mr. Grant suggested for me with a charming grin and an eye with a big twinkle in the centre. I laughed shortly and looked down at my nervous hands toying with my pencil.

“So, maybe,” I responded, looking up again. He chuckled and nodded once more and combed his fingers through the left side of his hair, only for it to bounce right back to its previous position.

November.

My eyes ached as I sat with my head hanging over my borrowed copy of E.M. Forster’s Maurice, reading the same line over and over again. I had read the book a few years earlier and adored it, but re-reading it now as the time was nearing 11 pm on a Friday night the words carried little meaning. Even my own words in my neat notes appeared increasingly alien.

The library was lit up softly and was about as silent as it could possibly get. It felt wrong to move and make sound as I stared out at the vastness of the room and the hallway outside of the library walls. Suddenly, just as my gaze had fixed sleepily on a framed painting hanging in line with my eyes, a person startled me as he came walking down the hallway. It was Professor Grant.

I shortly pondered the concept of fate as he turned his head casually and locked eyes with me. A smile came upon his face and he steered his steps inside the library without hesitating. He was in his usual black suit trousers and tight belt, a button-up without a tie, and a long coat and knitted scarf draped over his forearm. Under his other arm sat a thick stack of stapled papers caged in firmly against the side of his ribs. Shortly again I pondered the concept of jealousy now, before he spoke and washed my mind clean of everything else.

“Why aren’t you at that big dormitory party?”

Mr. Grant sat on the edge of my table and glanced down at me. He tossed his stack next to my stuff, at which my eyes scanned it and noticed several little notes and markings in red ink scattered throughout the text. I concluded that he had stayed late in his office to mark essays.

“How do you know about the party?”

He laughed quietly and looked around the room momentarily, allowing me a few seconds of shamelessly staring at his strong jaw as he looked away from me.

“Kids always think they’re very secretive. My hearing and deductive skills are excellent in fact.”

I smiled when he looked back at me, but the sentiment of the smile faded quickly from inside me.

“Do you think of us as kids?” I asked in the most neutral tone I could manage. He was only fifteen years older at the absolute most. He couldn’t be a day over thirty-five.

Mr. Grant’s soft stare dropped down my body in stages, seeming to halt at my collarbone and ribs and then my hinged hips where his gaze settled a short while.

“No,” he decided after a moment’s silence.

I didn’t know how the rest of that conversation was meant to go or indeed how to deal with the apparent tension that had built in the quiet room. Instead I backtracked to his initial question of why I was in the library on a Friday night.

“Well… You set an essay due Wednesday, didn’t you,” I chuckled breathily and impulsively looked down as I closed the book in my hands. We both gazed down at the cover and it felt like a strange form of eye contact. When I looked back up I saw a soft smile on his lips.

“That’s one of my favourite books.”

I exhaled and responded quickly.

“I will choose my words carefully.”

My professor’s smile grew and he met my eyes with his visibly tired ones, shaking his head.

“I trust you.”

Something in the air made me feel as though our conversation was coming to an end and it made me sad, which was why I grabbed onto a bit of substantial conversation I could find in our repertoire.

“I’m not big on parties anyway.”

Mr. Grant had crossed his arms now and nodded with the remnants of a smile.

“I understand.” He thought for a second and licked the corner of his mouth. “The parties in your future will be much more up your alley, when you’re an esteemed author. Trust me.”

He spoke of me being a revered published writer, yet all I felt like was a silly teenage girl as I tried to control my blushing cheeks at his sweet words. And then a soft groan escaped him as he reached to grab his essays again and stood on his long legs, clearly on his way to exit again.

“Just don't forget your old Literary Analysis professor when you’re famous,” he demanded sweetly and I simply kept smiling and blushing as he headed out, leaving me with my own company again. I had to fight to stop grinning and I found I was on the verge of breaking a sweat under my knitted jumper.

December.

For a few weeks now I had noticed an increase in stares between me and Professor Grant. I had found him resting his eyes on me several times across the room and once I thought I had made him blush, simply by looking up and meeting his eyes. He had looked down quickly and stuck his one hand into his hair, tensed his brows and stared down at his books again. I had mirrored his actions but hadn’t been able to make a single note for the next few minutes, completely consumed by the idea of letting my lips gently kiss his brow bone and feel him soften at my touch.

I was currently wrapped up in another one of those thoughts as I stared out the window, where light snowflakes were falling and slowly but surely forming a thin white coat over the lawn. I could hear his voice loud and clear as he was in the middle of a lecture - something about anti-heros apparently - but I wasn’t listening to the words. In my mind my lips were attached to his jaw and my fingers rushing to unbutton his shirt. Just as my mouth had reached his collarbone, his real life self changed his tone of voice and I tuned back in.

“Right, we’ll continue this tomorrow for a bit. And we will also have a chat about the exam in two weeks. So, bring all your anxieties and questions tomorrow and we’ll talk it through. Does that sound alright?”

I scanned the room quickly to find all the nodding and smiling students begin to toss their books into their bags and I scrambled to do the same, but once my eyes turned back to the front of the lecture room I found Mr. Grant on his way over to me.

“Hi,” he uttered quietly with a kind smile and I returned it. His hands were in his trouser pockets and his head tilted slightly as he looked down at me.

“I heard,” he began, glancing away at the last few students leaving the room. “from Mr. Holland.. that you’re doing quite well in your Creative Writing class.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I shrugged and laughed shyly as I fidgeted with the pages of my notebook.

“Now, I would hate to find out you have a favourite class that’s not mine, but,” Grant sighed jokingly and then gave me another soft curl of the lips. “I would love to read some of your writing if you wouldn’t mind. I promise to give you nothing but praise, of course.”

I chuckled and had to force my mind out of the gutter of imagining what type of praise he might give me.

“No, I want your critique,” I nodded, still anxiously toying with the notebook that conveniently enough held a lot of my creative writing drafts and half-ideas. Mr. Grant nodded back and swivelled around to my side of the table as I began flicking through my notebook to the sound of my umming and ahhing nervously.

He had planted his large palms on the table and his head hung between his broad shoulders as I finally decided on a page that felt somewhat representative of my work. His thin-rimmed glasses had been pushed up into his hair for the majority of the lecture, and he pulled them down now as he focused his eyes and mind fully on my text.

He was so close to me I could feel his scent begin to fill my nose, and his tricep was nearly brushing against my shoulder. I studied the few veins on his hands as his fingertips instinctively held the paper down against my table.

“It’s really good, Y/N,” Professor Grant finally concluded with his voice just a step above a whisper. “Really good.”

I looked up to make shy eye contact again and found his expression had changed from his sweet, composed smiles he would usually give me. There was something behind his spectacled eyes that suggested conflict. I realised there were just a few inches separating us and the urge to stand up and press my lips to his grew quickly, until I simply couldn’t fight it.

Pushing my chair back and half standing up, I planted a desperate kiss on his already slightly parted lips. For a second everything stood still and I wasn’t sure if he was kissing me back, but at least he wasn’t pulling away. Then I felt those gorgeous hands coat my sides, if only to help stabilise me as I staggered to my feet. It felt like everything happened within the space of a nervous heartbeat. Soon he backed away a step, his warm palms being the last to leave my body. Grant anxiously threw a glance behind him at the half open door as he wiped his bottom lip with his thumb. The sounds from the hallway came back to me again and regret washed over me with such power it nearly made me lightheaded.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I breathed.

“No,” he simply said and shook his head. The empty space in the air made me feel like he was supposed to or wanted to say something else, but he didn’t for a while. His eyes hopped from one corner of my face to the other and his chest rose and fell with his stressed breathing. At last his gaze settled on my lips.

“Y/N, you’re…” He rubbed his forehead and took a few more steps further away from me. “You’re very special and I really admire you… There’s just no way this can happen. You understand that, don’t you?”

He turned around to find me standing in the spot he left me, horrified by my own actions.

“And you have no idea how common it is to fall for a professor. It’s a very peculiar relationship; a student and a teacher… It happens. It’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?”

Fully knowing I was going to be excruciatingly embarrassed by this incident maybe for the rest of my life, I nodded.

“Really, it’s alright,” Professor Grant spoke in a warm voice with a definite sadness behind it. My whole body was vibrating with nerves and heartache and I managed to move my stiff limbs enough to pick up my books and bag.

“Okay,” I exhaled, wanting so badly to believe him. I left his concerned expression behind as I passed him and stepped out into the hallway, managing to catch the heavy sigh he let out behind me. Even still, with embarrassment weighing down my steps, the only thing I could think of was the incredible feeling of his lips against mine and his hands holding my waist. My insides ached as I realised I would never be allowed to kiss him again. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to kiss him this time. My lower lashes held heavy tears as I stomped outside and kicked my boots through the fresh snow, heading towards my dorm.

[lpsluvblr]

@leffee Had this brilliant idea! (as always) Image that Sunil used his magic wand for a random trick! BUT accidentally shrunk his best friend Vinnie in the process! So now they have to figure out how to change him back! In the meantime Sunil and friends just have to keep him from getting squished.. this was inspired by that ⬇️ ENJOY 😊

Sunil adjusted his grip on the ice cream cone, carefully cradling it in his hands. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the park where he and his friend Vinnie were enjoying a rare outing. Normally, Vinnie was as tall as he was—at least, that’s what Vinnie thought before Sunil’s little "accident" with his magic wand..

He glanced down at his shirt pocket, where a tiny, irritable voice was coming from.

“I still don’t see why you get the whole cone,” Vinnie grumbled, his voice carrying a slight whiny edge, even though it was now the size of a mouse's squeak. “I’m perfectly capable of eating a large cone by myself. I used to eat large cones all the time!”

Sunil sighed and took another lick of his vanilla ice cream, the cold sweetness cutting through the summer heat. He could feel Vinnie shifting inside his pocket, probably with that look of frustration he always got when he was being overly stubborn.

“Vinnie,” Sunil said, trying to sound patient, “You’re the size of my thumb right now. There’s no way you could eat a whole cone. It would be like me trying to eat a mountain of ice cream the size of a building.”

“I’m serious!” came the muffled reply. “I’m resourceful! I could do it, I just need a chance. One chance is all I need!”

Sunil chuckled, the sound bubbling up from his chest as he looked at his tiny friend with affection. Vinnie’s pride, despite his current size, was completely undeterred. But there was no way he could deny the facts.

"You do need a chance, but not with a giant cone," Sunil said, gently lowering his spoon towards his shirt pocket. “Look, until we figure out how to fix the wand mishap, you're just going to have to make do with eating off my spoon.”

From the tiny depths of his shirt pocket, Vinnie’s voice was a bit louder now, filled with a tone that might've been indignation, but was also slightly desperate.

“I’m telling you, Sunil, I could totally handle it. One bite. Just one bite of that massive cone. One!”

“Vinnie,” Sunil said, grinning, “You can’t even reach the top of the cone. Look, if you want to try, I’ll let you nibble at the edge of the ice cream on my spoon. But no more arguments, okay?”

There was a long pause from the pocket, as if Vinnie was debating whether to accept the offer or keep up the protest. Finally, a small, defeated sigh echoed up to Sunil.

“Fine. But only because I’m being reasonable… very reasonable.”

Sunil grinned and lowered the spoon, the large scoop of ice cream now balanced between the tiny bite-sized portion and the giant cone. Carefully, he extended the spoon towards his pocket. He could feel Vinnie shifting around in his shirt, preparing himself for his tiny taste of the giant treat.

Vinnie’s tiny voice piped up again, this time more cheerful and resigned. “Okay, maybe a spoonful won’t be so bad. But when I’m big again, I’m eating a whole cone myself.”

Sunil rolled his eyes with affection as he lifted the spoon to his tiny friend. “Deal. But for now, I think we can both agree that this is a much more sensible option.”

As Sunil slowly fed his friend the ice cream from the spoon, he couldn’t help but laugh. Despite all the chaos that came with his accidental shrinking spell, moments like these for him made it all worth it.

[1800i-dont-write-fanfiction]

puff puff pass (away from my vast and unshakeable regrets)

And then, sensing my descent, she shifted with an ease that was both instinctive and assured. Had someone taught her how to love like this? An uneven sigh escaped me, either from the force of my restraint or the inevitable collapse of it.

“I was merely lost in thought,” It was the truth, this time.

“You must not wander so far,” she teased, scarcely louder than breathing though rich enough in mirth. “Unless, of course, you are hoping to be pursued.”

A quiet chuckle stirred in my chest. “And if I am?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65023525

I drew deeply from the pipe. Cold and distant stars yawned open overhead so that the sea rolled in endless repetition, neither soothed nor silenced by the pull of the tides. Herbs smoldered between my fingers as a whitecap whispered to the shore. An acrid taste coated my tongue.

Ellana was drowsy, wreathed in fog, with half-lidded eyes. The mist curled around her like the hem of a wedding veil, softening the edges of her body until she seemed less a woman and more a specter. I passed the small ironbark piece with a lazy grin while my eyes traced the graceful line of her neck and the slope of her shoulders. I had seen beauty sculpted in forms untouched by the passage of time, yet she was something else entirely. And I stared, caught between reverence and guilt, ensnared by the way the world bent to adore her.

"There is a strange charm to this," she mused, drawing her shawl tightly around her, "The fog is a romantic conspirator, I think, obscuring all that is ordinary. It allows only enchanting impressions to remain." And regarding me with a smirk, one teasing at the corners of her lips in playful provocation, she knew precisely how to affect me.

I huffed in amusement and shook my head, though I did not pull away. “You make light of things too easily, da'len,” I murmured, lacking censure. If anything, I marveled at the way she wove levity into moments that might otherwise collapse beneath their own weight. She tilted her head against my shoulder, “And you make them too heavy. It is a balance, I think.”

A balance. As if such things were possible between us.

She delighted in this game of unraveling me with laughter and knowing glances, and my resolve wavered, as it so often did. I let out a slow exhale, as though it might temper her weight against mine. “Ah, but you make it sound simple.” 

She hummed, making a small, satisfied sound. “Perhaps it is.”

Admiration sat heavy in my chest, made all the more unbearable by her placid ease. "Then I am glad for it," I murmured, passing back the pipe, "For all the ways it obscures, it also reveals."

“The fog?” She asked.

“Yes. The fog.” I replied.

"Oh?” She lifted a brow, “And what has it revealed to you?"

The truth was perilous- that she had become a tether I could not afford. "An illusion," I murmured, my voice quieter now, "is often kinder than the truth. It is not deception that pains us, but the moment of waking."

She leaned forward, entirely unafraid. Her chin lifted just so she might dare me to argue with her. “I might spend the rest of my days sparing myself the burden of dreary, sensible thoughts."

I should not be here.

I pulled away, not abruptly, but deliberately, as if I had simply tired of the conversation rather than feared what it was doing to me. I gestured toward the mist curling over the water, and with a light tone, "You are fortunate the night conspires with you."

She sighed then, leaning back, “You are thinking too much.”

I let a slight smile curve my lips. "You are right, of course," I replied, "A failing of mine."

Her lips quirked in amusement, "Not a failing," she countered. "Not thought alone."

And if it was? If I should allow my thoughts to carve me hollow and fill the spaces where mercy might take root with her body? A weak, wretched part of me wondered, would you still look at me this way? Would you still offer me this quiet intimacy, the casual brush of your knee against mine? I could not help but place my hand on her thigh, cruel as it was.

"And you," I replied carefully, meeting her eyes, "have something on your mind."

“It is you,” she confessed without hesitation. Her love was unburdened by doubt, untempered by fear, and I envied her for it. Would that I could stay as Solas and build a life in those small, stolen moments, fashioned from warm glances and shared laughter and soft skin and—

"Solas?" 

If I were a better man- merely a man- I would have given anything she asked and delighted in seeing her pleased. 

"Yes, Vhenan?"

“Lingering in an illusion is a dreadful thing, I am sure- unless one realizes that, perhaps, it is not the illusion that deceives, but the belief it is an illusion at all.” She answered, tipping her head against my shoulder. I went rigid with the terrible knowledge that I would remember this when all else had faded. “Something can be as it appears.”

I wanted to stay.

And if I were to? I imagined the shape of a life driven by choice; mornings spent tracing idle patterns along the curve of her spine and languid evenings between her legs. It was not impossible. If I could disappear now. Allow my agents to believe me lost to the Fade, let them scatter in confusion. I could take her far from prying eyes, where no creature would whisper my name in reverence or fear. 

Ir abelas, Felassan. You were right.

I felt the light brush of her fingers against mine. How many nights had I sworn to end this indulgence? 

"What’s wrong?" Her gaze was impossibly soft. 

"Tell me," I said, my voice fainter now. "what you will do when this is over.”

Silence stretched between us as she considered my query. "I don’t believe I can return to my clan. Not as I am now," she admitted quietly.  "I do not know what the world will make of me beyond this.” A fragile smile flashed across her lips. I knew the confession pained her. “Will you return to your travels?”

“I suspect so.”

Ah, there it is- the insidious thought burrowed into my mind before pragmatism could take hold- I will take her with me. There were still places in this world untouched by the passage of time, beyond the reach of those who would pursue us. She would learn to live in such solitude, I convinced myself. She would see the world as I did, and she would understand- 

But the world would not let her disappear so easily. The past would find me. The Veil was crumbling, already fraying at its edges, and when it fell, the full power of the Blight would be unleashed upon this world. What remained of my people would be forever lost, and I would have failed them as surely as I had before. Just as I had failed Mythal.

The Veil must come down. That truth is as constant as the breath in my lungs. It is a wound, a violation of the natural order, and I am the only one who can amend it. The elves of this world- her people- stumble in darkness, sundered from everything they were meant to be because of my mistake. She would follow if I asked. But if it were Fen’Harel? I could no more remain by her side than I could undo the weight of history. To love her was already an impossibility, but to destroy her under the guise of devotion? I would not make her complicit in my destruction of the world she is fighting to save. If there was any mercy left in me, I would let her go.

And then, sensing my descent, she shifted with an ease that was both instinctive and assured. Had someone taught her how to love like this? Her hands cradled my face with a tenderness that threatened to undo me. Her palms were warm against my skin, and her thumbs brushed idly over my cheeks. An uneven sigh escaped me, either from the force of my restraint or the inevitable collapse of it.

“I was merely lost in thought,” It was the truth, this time.

“You must not wander so far,” she teased, scarcely louder than breathing though rich enough in mirth. “Unless, of course, you are hoping to be pursued.”

A quiet chuckle stirred in my chest. “And if I am?”

Her fingers traced an idle path along my jaw as though she were contemplating some clever remark—only to abandon it entirely. With a sigh equal parts fondness and exasperation, she pulled me forward and kissed me, silencing whatever lament I had been preparing with a far more effective argument. It was, I thought fleetingly, an excellent strategy.

Weak as I was in her hands, I could deny her almost nothing, and so I did not return to my thoughts. In all things, I had fortified myself against sentiment. Yet what will, what purpose, could ever survive such tenderness? Against the quiet constancy of her adoration, I could summon no defense. And so, though I knew well the dangers of surrender, and I understood with painful clarity the precipice upon which I stood, I did not resist the singular intemperance of her affections.

It did not take long for the weight of guilt and history to dissolve, swallowed up by the immediacy of her. The world beyond this moment, with all its burdens, faded into insignificance. There was only the steady pull of her touch and the taste of her name forming soundlessly on my lips: Ellana.

Her fingers traced the sharp lines of my jaw. A shiver coursed through me at the light touch, making me squirm, though I held my composure well. With a small, deliberate shift, her fingers curled into the fabric of my tunic, teasing at the skin beneath. It was a quiet assertion, though the insistence of it drove me half mad. When she moved, lifting herself into my lap, it was not a demand, but an invitation I found myself wholly incapable of declining.

My hands sought the curve of her spine of their own volition, each movement drawing her nearer, though it seemed impossible that any space should remain between us. Her lips parted against mine, and I tasted the quiet, teasing challenge in her breath. The tip of my tongue traced the curve of her lower lip, and she gasped—quietly, yet with such genuine surprise that a thrill ran through me.

The sand shifted beneath me as the tide hushed its endless call to the shore—such things belonged to another reality, one in which I had no interest. She pressed ever closer, the deliberate exploration of her hands igniting something heady, perilously close to submission. She urged me backward, and I yielded without question, without care, fingers tightening around her arms as I pulled her with me. And when she followed, pressing herself to me once more, I knew with certainty that I wanted this.

My hands flexed against her and I traced the contours along her flesh. She, unhurried, yet determined, pinned her lips to the hollow of my collarbone, pressing pious heat into every space where restraint might have lived. I returned her touch in kind as quiet desperation filled me, the aching knowledge that such moments were fleeting. My fingers tangled in her hair, anchoring myself to keep me from floating too far beyond reason. The wind howled across the beach, lifting the mist in swirling eddies. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, feeling the press of cool sand at my back. That, I determined, will not do. My breath caught as her lips brushed a place too sensitive to be forgotten. The tide swelled in the distance, and I, struggling for composure, gently guided her back.

“Not here, Vhenan,” I murmured, my voice rough with restraint. Before she could protest, I shifted beneath her, gathering her into my arms with an ease that bellied the severity of my arousal. A breath of laughter escaped her, surprised but not displeased, as I pulled her to her feet.

“Where, then?” she asked, her fingers clinging absently to the fabric of my tunic, teasing at the neck of my resolve even while I sought to preserve it.

“Somewhere,” I mused, my lips brushing the crown of her head, “with less sand.”

this is something I posted to my longfic but it truly has nothing to do with the plot so it shall just be its own thing

[bluejay-writes]

Mystictober 2023 - Day 3: Potions, or Poisons?

You can read this fic on Ao3 if that’s more your speed!

Rating: Teen, for swearing and drug use.

Prompt: Potion

Characters: Saeran, Mint Eye OCs, (Hints of Jumin, 707)

Wordcount: 2081

Summary: Believer C-128 runs the elixir lab at Mint Eye. Mr. Saeran wants to know about her experiments, and tests one without asking.

“What’s with the colors over here?” 

The believer turned, taking in the man in the crisp black suit with a glance. She was clearly not expecting anyone to be in the room with her, least of all him. To be fair, he basically never came into the elixir lab, as the Savior had all of his doses delivered to him while he was too busy hacking to notice.

“Test batches, Mr. Saeran.  I’ve color coded them so I can keep track of the changes I’ve made when testing.”

“What are you testing?”

“The savior requested I make new formulations for specific situations.”

“And who are you testing these on?”

She bit her lip. “Myself, sir. Per her request.”

“Must be hard to get good data while the elixir does its job.  Let me test this one for you.” He reached out and picked up a vial full of a magenta-colored liquid, tossing it back and handing her the empty. “What’s the difference?”

She froze, and Saeran watched as she tried to come up with an answer that would please him. He knew that whatever she said would be at least partially untrue, but he still waited to hear her answer, regardless.

“C-128?” he said, taking a step towards her. He didn’t mean it to be menacing, but it was clear that it terrified her, and she just said the first thing that came to mind.

“It-it’s a booster for long-term elixir use.  Taken on top of your usual dose it helps keep clarity of purpose. Or, well, that’s what I designed it to do… I haven’t tested it yet… how do you feel?”

“No difference, yet.”

“Well, ideally it’s meant to be taken directly after your usual dose of Elixir, so I don’t know that you’d specifically notice the effects yet.”

“Make me another vial of this - I’ll take it next time I take my elixir, and let you know.”

Her eyes widened, but she turned to do as he said. As she was mixing up another of the magenta potions, without the pink dye this time, she dared to ask her question.

“Sir?”

“Yes, C-128?”

“Why are you here? N-not that you can’t be, just, have I done something wrong?”

“No, I was just interested, and I needed a break.”

She took a deep breath, and then handed him the vial of mint liquid that looked very similar to the standard Elixir of Salvation.

“It’s not Magenta.” he said, skeptically.

“Savior said the other colors were only allowable in the lab. If you’re leaving the lab, it has to be mint.”

“Ah. Sensible. Wouldn’t want anyone knowing about the differences.”

“Well, you do now.” She chuckled. “Please don’t tell the Savior you’re testing for me. I fear she’d be angry with me, and…”

“It was my choice.” He said. “Would you tell me no?”

C-128 shook her head. “Of course not, Mr. Saeran.” “Good.” he said, leaving the room. “I will be back tomorrow to tell you my experiences.”

After that day, Saeran regularly stopped by her lab for his “booster” as he called it. She’d been tweaking the formula to work better on him as he told her his experiences, and every day he felt even better than the last.  He wasn’t sure what the mixture was actually supposed to do.  Her lie had been thinly-veiled at best, and mostly spoken out of panic. He didn’t know if he’d just been testing her initially, but after that first day of clarity after an elixir dose, he just couldn’t stop wanting the booster to accompany it.  Regardless of its purpose, it was making his job so much easier.

He knew that per the Savior’s instructions she had been creating a much stronger version of the elixir, which would work as a booster to hypnotic suggestion receptiveness in small doses, but that didn’t seem to be what this was doing for him at all.

Saeran had never felt so capable and in control with the Elixir than he did with the boosters that C-128 developed for him. He’d been managing to stay three steps ahead of that traitor, and the savior had even decided they didn’t need to get someone into the apartment to distract the RFA - she was content with his progress as it was, and he’d never been more proud.

So, when C-128 didn’t bring his next day’s booster vials, Saeran was immediately worried. Not only would it affect his progress but it could get her in trouble with the Savior as well.  He’d have to go pick them up himself, of course. It’d give him a chance to check in and see if there were any new updates she’d made, or if it was just the same not-Magenta mixture.

When he got there, he found the door shut and locked, with another Believer standing in front of the door. Immediately, Saeran was on guard.  What was going on with the Elixir lab?

“Believer, Report.”

“Ah! M-Mr. Saeran! Believer A-230 here. The Savior is waiting for C-128 to finish testing something, and no one is allowed in or out until she’s completed it.”

“And you’ve kept watch the entire time?”

“Yes, nothing has changed. It’s been quiet in there, though.”

“Understood. I’m here to relieve you, Savior’s orders. Go back to your usual duties, A-230.”

“Yes, Mr. Saeran.”

The believer nodded to him and walked off.  Once he was sure the man was gone, he unlocked the door and slipped inside.  As the door shut behind him, he froze in shock. C-128 was laying on the ground with a broken flask and a puddle of bright blue liquid nearby.

“C-128. Are you alright?” He crouched down next to her, noting the flicker in her eyelids that he was used to from a cleansing gone bad, and checked her pulse.  It fluttered weakly against his fingers, and he would swear the rhythm was erratic.

She looked up at the tone of his voice, squeezing her eyes shut before staring imploringly at him. “No. Magenta…” Saeran grabbed the vial of magenta liquid from his first visit to the lab, and tipped it down her throat.  She coughed, but seemed to breathe a little bit easier almost immediately. “Won’t be enough. I need… Hospital... Bring the… red bag.” one shaky hand pointed to where the first aid kit was attached to the wall.  Why would she need the first aid kit if she was going to the hospital?  

There wasn’t time to ask these questions, not with C-128 passing out again. Saeran didn’t argue, couldn’t argue with an unconscious woman. He lifted her up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and grabbed the large kit she’d pointed at.  He may have been practically skin and bones before, but with her booster he’d been putting on muscle in ways he hadn’t been able to before, so lifting her wasn’t an issue.  

Believer and her first aid kit in hand, Saeran made quick time to the garage, where he buckled her into his personal vehicle.

Fifteen minutes into the 40-minute drive at breakneck speeds to the nearest hospital, Saeran’s phone began to ring. He tapped the button.

“Yes, Savior?” “Ray~” Her saccharine-sweet voice rang over the car speakers, and Saeran had to suppress a shudder. “Where are you going?” “I am taking C-128 to the hospital. She’s catatonic.” “You can’t do that, Saeran. She will ruin everything for us.” “I must. She’s a genius, and we can’t afford to lose her.” “She was a lost cause the moment she started giving you that ‘booster’.” Rika’s voice was bitter, suddenly. “But the booster that C-128 gave me vastly improved my performance. You said so yourself.” Rika made a disgruntled noise. “You must turn around and come back, Ray.” “No. I will not. She needs help.” “Ray. This is an order.” “Too bad.” He said sharply, and hung up.

Next to him, C-128 stirred. “She’ll cleanse you for that, Saeran.”

“I’d love to see her try.” He said, roughly. “You’re awake. What’s in the kit? I peeked, it’s not bandages and ointments.”

“All of my samples. My legal identification. Incriminating Evidence.”

“How do you mean, incriminating evidence?”

“Savior had me keeping track of the cleansing deaths, and I have her initial elixir trial notebook.”

“This will bring down Mint Eye.” Saeran growled. “Why would you do this?”

“She intends… to give them all what she made me take.  The Eternal Party… it’s going to kill everyone.”

Saeran went silent. C-128 wasn’t lying to him. She sounded certain, in a way she hadn’t when she’d told him about the ‘booster’. He’d known she was lying about the magenta vial when he took it, and especially when it’s what she reached for when she was in trouble.

“What does the magenta vial you’ve been giving me for the last few months actually do, C-128?”

“It’s a nullifier.” She said, resignedly. “I designed it to... purge the elixir’s effects... from my system.”

“You’ve been giving me anti-elixir this entire time?”

“Y-yes.” She stuttered, and Saeran just blinked.

“No wonder the Savior was so upset with you.” He sighed. “Thank you, C-128, but you did not need to do that for me, not at this cost.”

“Hey, you took it first. I didn’t really… do… anything…” She muttered sleepily, and Saeran looked over at her in a panic. “C-128. Stay with me, we’re almost there.”

Whatever she tried to say didn’t resolve into words as her head lolled against the headrest.

“Fuck.” Saeran said, and drove faster.

“The toxicology on this woman is insane.” Saeran heard the nurse say. She probably thought she was being quiet enough that he wouldn’t hear her. She was not. “The ingredients in the test vials are unbelievable. How they got their hands on some of these things is beyond me.”

Saeran thought back on some of the things he’d done at the Savior’s direction and knew exactly how they’d come by the trickier parts of the elixir’s ingredients.

“Excuse me.” He said, standing up from C-128’s beside. “Is she going to recover?”

“Ah, Mr. Choi. Yes, Thanks to her own notes your wife should be awake in a few hours, once the sedative wears off, and then we’ll likely be able to discharge her tomorrow.  You are aware that the police would like to talk to you both?” 

He nodded, and stepped out to make a phone call. Wife. Her identification card had said ‘Eunji Choi’. Sure, there were a lot of Chois out there. He could have said they were siblings, but they looked nothing alike. And he had to give them some kind of relation, or they never would have let him in. He hoped she’d forgive his subterfuge. However, with a potential release day of tomorrow, he was going to have to take a risk. With his heart in his throat, he tapped a contact on his phone, and let it ring.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” “Saeyoung. It’s Saeran.”

True to their word, C-128 blinked her eyes open just a few hours later.

“Mr. Saeran?” She asked, blearily, as if to confirm he was still there.

“Just Saeran is fine - I told them we were married so they’d let me stay with you. What should I call you?”

“Oh. Anything but my wallet name.” Her cheeks pinked, but if she had any thoughts about being called his wife, she didn’t share them.  He made a split-second decision, and smiled down at her.

“Okay, Princess.” he said, brushing her hair back off of her forehead, just in time for the doctor to walk back in and check on her due to the change in her vitals from the machines she was hooked up to.

“Ah, my apologies for interrupting. Mrs. Choi, welcome back to the world of the awake. Thanks to your detailed notes, we were able to promptly flush your system of the poison, and you should be back to functioning normally shortly.”

She nodded, and the doctor sighed. “The police will want to speak with you as soon as you are able.”

“They will have to wait until the Family lawyers arrive.” A voice said from the doorway, and Saeran looked up to see one Jumin Han, a man he had previously only seen in photographs, looking stern. Behind him, a mop of red hair Saeran would know anywhere.

[the-bar-sinister]

Lucifer Was an Angel As Well (63782 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

catch up here A sheltered young artist with a tragic past finds herself caught in the web of dark affection by a beautiful and sinister murderer, and his carefree rockstar brother.

-

October 12, 2028– 10:15 am

"It's nice to see you again, Lana."

Kristoph had rearranged his cell very slightly– drawing his chair up near the bars, and a small table along with it. That made sense of course, since they'd be talking for longer today, and he'd probably be taking notes.

After all, she was on official business from the prosecutor's office, to prepare Kristoph Gavin for his new position and his community service.

She remembered the view on the other side of the bars intimately, and the excitement and fear of realizing that very soon you’d see the outside world again, at least in some capacity.

It was nice to see him. She took stock of his expression as she settled herself into the chair with a genuine smile. Soon, Kristoph Gavin would take to the courts once more– this time on her side of the courtroom. He looked, in her opinion, pretty happy about it.

“It’s nice to see you too, Kristoph. I hear you’ve been keeping well…with lots of company. I’m pleased.” 

Kristoph smiled even wider, his hands folded in his lap. "Oh yes, I've been getting lots of company this last month. It's been quite a comfort."

Lana adjusted her red scarf around her neck– a new one that Jake had purchased her as a ‘welcome back’ gift, geometrically patterned with a fringe at its end.

“I can only imagine, comfort bolstered by the good news, no doubt.” She leaned on her hand with a smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit more often. I’ve been behind the scenes working to secure this opportunity for you.” 

"You're more than forgiven,Lana, dear." He leaned a little toward her. "Even if you weren't helping me, I know you're busy organizing your own life beyond these bars. It's been treating you well, I hope?"

Lana nodded against her curled fingers, a thoughtful smile on her face. 

“That I have. It’s been treating me well. I’ve made amends with my dear sister, though– she’s often busy nowadays bustling about on her globe trotting investigations. They’ve given me an office again, right by the Chief Prosecutor’s.”

"Well, well! It sounds like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth is happy to have you back then– or does he just want to keep you close?" Kristoph seemed to consider the matter, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Regardless, I'm glad to hear you're doing well. And your sister."

“I’d say the latter would be sensible.” Lana chuckled wryly “But he does seem to genuinely trust me. Which I’m glad for– he was my protege, after all. I think he’s glad for my return, and for my judgment now that it’s unclouded by Gant’s threats.”

She smiled at him. “thank you– and soon you’ll hopefully be doing a little better yourself. I’m to teach you all about the prosecutor’s path, after all.” 

"What a delightfully dramatic way to put it." Kristoph laughed musically. "One thing I'm going to have to learn to keep up with is typical prosecutor showmanship, for certain."

Lana laughed.

“It’s become an increasingly important skill. Back in my day , why…it was simpler. But each year the prosecutors become stranger and stranger, I’ve been thinking of how to keep up myself. My detective thinks I should join him and Diego in the ‘western’ theme, of course.” She smirked at him “any thoughts? Or do you think the handcuffs will carry the weight of impression for you?” 

"The cuffs will certainly contrast with my usual image– that's for certain. But I'll have to give it some thought. I wouldn't want to be considered too plain," he smirked teasingly. "Do you think you'll follow the suggestion and trade your epaulets for spurs? Maybe you ought to go the opposite way, and start wearing a sword to court."

She chuckled into her hand. “No, absolutely not. One western themed prosecutor is enough. It’d be insufferable if I joined in. I may, however, bring a sword. Lean into the military angle. The judge should be amused, if nothing else. As for yourself…it’s a chance to reinvent. Have fun with it.” 

"I'll give it due consideration," he agreed, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully. "But I gather we have more to go over today than just fashion, more's the pity."

It was true. Lana had a whole stack of procedure material to go over with him, paperwork for him to sign, etc. But more interesting than all of that was the news that the chief prosecutor was intending to assign him cases within the week. Minor, straightforward ones, Lana was sure were meant to test his ability on the other side of the aisle.

Lana shifted to pull the stack of papers out of her bag to rest them on her lap, looking amused as she held them up. 

“More’s the pity. I’m afraid I’m already putting you to work. I hope your beautiful hands are ready to sign away for a few hours…because I’m going to have to catch you up on procedure quite fast.” She smiled wryly at him “because you’re going behind the bench by the end of the week.” 

"Well!" Kristoph's surprise and pleasure were written obvious on his face. "Nevermind my hands for now– let's get started!"

November 3, 2028– 1:05 pm

Kay leaned back in her chair, idly playing around with one of her lockpicking sets and a heavy padlock. She hadn’t exactly been out thieving very much lately, not since the start of her job as Miles’ official assistant, but it never hurt to keep yourself from becoming rusty.

Things had been changing around her as of late, the once quiet and understaffed prosecution office was now bustling, and she had recently re-hired prosecutors coming to her desk several times a day to ask for meetings with Miles, or to hand her the reports to file.

It was nice, as a thief herself she was a sucker for second chances…so seeing Lana around, Diego, Iris, and Jake…all of them really…had been nice. The justice system was shifting away from the harsh penalties and executions it’d been too used to, and into something more productive…starting right here in the prosecutorial office.

Sure, she’d gotten complaints in Miles’ box– which she’d sometimes taken the liberty of replying to herself– but some people sure loved to judge books by covers. If you asked Kay Faraday, things were looking up.

What the prosecutor's office didn't often get a lot of was unexpected visitors. Calls, sure, but it was surprising to see the unfamiliar figure shuffling through the door towards the reception desk. He was a tall and lanky man, somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s, with a pair of cheap black rayban sunglasses on his narrow, pointy face. He was dressed somewhat respectably in a striped polo shirt, but the pale blue jeans on his narrow hips had seen better days. Chin length blond hair framed his sharp chin.

“....” Kay slipped her lockpicks up her sleeve and folded her hands together with a raise of her eyebrow. “can I help you?” 

The man smiled widely, and Kay felt like she could count every one of his large, squarish, crookedly arranged teeth. She noticed that she he had a bundle of manilla folders under one arm.

He sauntered up to the counter and put the folders down, offering her his large, flat hand for a shake. "I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I have a bit of an unusual situation. My name's Carter Ackerman. You're–" he glanced at the nameplate on her desk, "Kay Faraday?"

“That’s my name, Mr. Ackerman. Well deduced.” Kay said with a low snicker “are you here to speak with a prosecutor? I don’t recall seeing your name on the appointment list.” 

"No, no appointment I'm afraid! A bit of an unusual situation," he repeated. "I'm actually just here to make sure I had the right Miles Edgeworth, you see. I've been trying to track down a relative, and his name kept coming up, you see."

Kay’s eye twitched. In all her years following Miles Edgeworth around and meeting weirdos on their investigations, she never met someone with a vocal tic that made her immediately think about kicking them in the knees.

If she heard ‘you see’ one more time, she was going to scream.

“Is the Mr. Edgeworth you’re looking for the Chief Prosecutor? Because if so, yes. You’re looking for a family member?” 

He scratched his hair and grinned wider at her. "That's a bit what I'm trying to figure out, Miss Faraday! The family member I'm looking for is Miss Vera Misham, and there's a Miles Edgeworth who keeps coming up in the paperwork, you see? So I'm wondering if I've got the right one on the horn so to speak."

Vera Misham??

Kay jolted in surprise as she looked up at the man in confusion. 

“...you’re related to Miss Misham?” As far as any of their research had come up with…Vera MIsham’s only family was her dead father. 

"Yes ma'am!" He ducked his head bashfully, his long, stringy hair bouncing around his chin, and his glasses briefly jolting on his nose. "Cousin by technicality you see, but I'd describe myself as more of an uncle figure. Bit frustrated with the system right now, between you and me. I only just heard about the tragedy a few months ago, and I've started trying to track her down, you see? Sounds like you know her?"

Kay Faraday stared at him in utter confusion. 

“You only just heard about it? No offense sir, but it was all over the national news. But if you’re looking to speak to Mr. Edgeworth regarding Vera, I can give him a call.” 

"Would you do that for me, Ms. Faraday? That'd be very kind of you, very kind." He leaned on her desk, one hand on his manilla folders.

Kay’s eyes were drawn to the folders as she reached out to her phone. 

“...might I ask what all that is?” 

"You can just tell him I'm concerned about Vera, and I'd like to get in touch."

November 3, 2028– 1:42 pm

Carter Ackerman was in Miles Edgeworth's office for about a half an hour. When he left, he gave Kay a jaunty wave, and whistled as he left the building.

Kay's desk intercom buzzed almost immediately. 

"Kay– could I have you in my office for a few minutes?" Miles asked. She knew him well. He sounded annoyed.

“Hooooooooo boy.” Kay hissed through her teeth “I knew it. I knew this was comin’.”

She stood up and hurried to join her boss by his side. If nothing else, the gossip was gonna be good.

Miles was leaning back in his chair, playing with his glasses in one hand. "Make sure the door's closed, thank you, Kay."

Oh yeah. It was going to be good gossip.

She shut the door behind her and sauntered over to lean on the desk “...alright, boss. Spill the tea.” 

He slipped his glasses back on his nose and wound his fingers together. "That was Vera Misham's cousin– apparently. He's seeking protective custody on her."

Kay’s brow furrowed. 

“you’re fuckin’ kidding. She’s an adult , why the hell’s her cousin asking for protective custody?” She crossed her arms after hopping atop his desk to sit “and I thought we didn’t turn up any family when she was orphaned, anyway.” 

"We didn't," he agreed. "And she's very much an adult, as we recently discussed. A fact which I was happy to remind him of. I'm very suspicious of this man, Kay. I'd like you to do some research into his background if you would. When he left the office, I got the impression that he;s going to try to make a claim in court. To have her declared mentally incompetent and in need of guardianship."

Kay’s expression twitched in anger that she barely…JUST barely restrained. 

“Mentally incompetent…Vera?? You’re kidding me. She’s a capable young woman! She’s in the frickin’ police academy, and he wants to try to make some kinda claim?” She flexed her fingers, her eyes narrowing as she tugged on the bottom of her gloves “I’ll steal the truth for you, boss. Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of what this guy’s fucking deal is.” 

"I'll be counting on you, Kay."

November 17, 2028– 2:15 pm

October had passed like a flash of lightning, and November was threatening to race forward at the same pace. The pace of Vera's studies had increased, and she felt like she barely had time to reply to her angel's letters– but she did every time, as faithful with her correspondence as she was dutiful with her work. It was all good news– they'd already started letting him prosecute small, simple cases in court. Cases that only required him to be escorted to the courthouse and back.

Somewhere in the hazy rush of days, too, she'd gotten word that Klavier and Trucy had returned from Khura'in, bringing Apollo successfully home, as well as a few new friends.

It was exciting, genuinely exciting. She let the good news carry her even through the difficulty of her increasing pace and difficulty of the training. The few new friends were a surprise, but she’d texted Klavier that she wanted to meet them as soon as possible– she’d even written to Kristoph about the relayed news with a kind of curious amusement.

Of course, she kept an ear out…part of her utterly desperate to hear what sort of cases he was on and just how the prosecutor’s office was accepting him.

It inspired her, urging her forward with the desperation to graduate with the kinds of honors that would allow Mr. Edgeworth to grant her wish to stand by Kristoph’s sign as his assigned detective. 

She had her angel's latest letter on her desk in her stack of papers as she listened to a lecture on evidence procedural and handling procedure.

The best thing about her angel's letters perhaps, was that ever since she'd signed hers with a heart– Kristoph had signed his with one as well.

Her heart had skipped a beat the first time she saw it…and ever since, it’d warmed it every time she looked over a letter. Whenever she felt like she wanted to give up…whenever she felt weak or scared, she just looked at the letter and let the heart bolster her forward side by side with Pearl.

As the lecture droned on, she snuck another glance at it. 

The cases themselves haven't been very interesting, I'm afraid– mostly thefts and simple assaults– but just being able to stand in court again has been very refreshing. I feel already I've become accustomed to going on the attack rather than playing defensively. I'm looking forward to the day when I'll be able to investigate a crime scene myself, which I'm told may not be too far in the future.Vera imagined him there, smiling like an angel in the courtroom as he pressed his advantage…for a moment the imagining took her away from the lecture before she shook herself back to it and returned her attention to the teacher.

She couldn’t lapse now. Not when he was waiting for her. 

Her daydream was interrupted when she heard the instructor change topics. 

"Some of you have already heard about your upcoming internship next month in partnership with the prosecutorial office. I'm passing out packets relevant to that now. There will be two weeks over Christmas where classes will be suspended and your main duty will be to shadow your assigned prosecutor."

Vera perked up, her eyes wide as she put her hand to her lips to stifle her smile. She couldn’t help but wonder…who? Who would she be assigned to? 

Pearl caught her eye from the desk next to her, grinning with barely restrained eagerness and curiosity as the instructor came around and left packets in sealed envelopes with their names on each desk.

"Obviously, the specifics of the case or cases you'll end up shadowing are a mystery to everyone but Lady Justice for now," the instructor chuckled. "But your packet does include the prosecutor that you've been paired with."

Vera flashed her a smile as she held up her packet with a whispered ‘we should share who we got’ before she quietly began picking the flap open with a nod up at the instructor.

She couldn’t help but hope that somehow, impossibly…she might be assigned to Kristoph Gavin. 

Vera shuffled through the boring pages of paperwork until she found the sheet of paper where a name was filled in handwritten on a blank line declaring her assignment. 

The handwriting was familiar. It belonged to chief prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.

The name was familiar, too– it read Kristoph Gavin. Vera gasped, and her hand went to her mouth to stifle it before it…and the ecstatic smile on her face…became noticed by the class.

She felt like she was dreaming. Like the stars had aligned and twisted in her favor…Kristoph Gavin. Her guardian angel…her dream.

She’d even get to intern under him. 

November 17, 2028– 2:45 pm

In the hallway after class, headed back to their dorm, Pearl walked close to Vera, smiling excitedly and clutching her own packet to her chest much like Vera was.

"Can you believe it!" Pearl beamed.

Vera turned to face her as they walked, shuffling excitedly along with her packet clung to her chest.

“I can’t…I almost can’t believe it, Pearl. I get to intern with my guardian angel…” She squeezed it tightly to her heart–. “and you get to with yours…do you think Mr. Edgeworth made sure it happened??” 

"I mean, that was definitely his handwriting, right? I thought I recognized it, but you'd know for sure, right?" Pearl bit her lip. "I'm sure he made it happen. I mean, it's not like anyone else could make him do it if he didn't want to!"

“It absolutely was…it was absolutely his writing.” She bumped her shoulder against Pearl’s, laughing happily. “which means he’s giving us our chance , Pearl– like a trial run before our careers really start.” 

Pearl laughed and bumped her back before she opened the door of their dorm and held it for her.

"Knowing Mr. Edgeworth, that's probably exactly what it is, huh?"

Vera nodded as she slipped inside. 

“Almost certainly. He’s Mr. Cautious after all. He’s probably going to be keeping a close eye on how we work with Mr. Gavin and Mr. Armando.” 

Pearl followed her in, and shut the door. "Which means this is our chance to impress him, so we get the permanent positions that we want. We'll have to ace it!"

Vera pumped her fist with a nearly inaudible giggle. “It’s you and me, Pearl…we absolutely can! We’ve got this, right?” 

Pearl put her hand around Vera's fist and squeezed it. "We've totally got this! and if you need any help, you know you can count on me, alright?"

Vera’s other hand reached out to grab Pearl’s to squeeze them all together. “Promise…I’ll come to you first thing. Same goes for you, okay?”

"I'll count on you, too!" she beamed. "I know that we can pull this off if we work our hardest."

Soon. Soon Vera would achieve her dream. She'd be working with her guardian angel– no bars between them.

“Let’s let nothing stand in our way.” she beamed back, her whole body shaking with anticipation. Over two years ago, Vera’s life had been nothing but the rotting studio and her father…and the memories of the devil’s affectionate smile. Two years ago she could have never grown enough to get this far.

But here she was. Bolstered by the hopes of herself, Pearl…her big brother, and her guardian angel…and with the permission and blessing of Miles Edgeworth, she was finally going to become something irreplaceable.

Kristoph Gavin’s precious detective. 

November 18, 2028– 6:15 pm

The next day there was a text message from Miles Edgeworth, and later, after classes, a taxi he sent for her, to fulfill the invitation to dinner he'd extended. According to his message, he wanted to talk about her internship and 'other details'.

It wasn’t a surprise he wanted to talk about the internship– she imagined he still had his reservations on it after all. It was the other details that left her wondering as she entered the taxi and let it drive her to the restaurant.

She wasn’t sure if it was something to do with her letters, or possibly with her apartment while she’d been gone. 

Vera was glad she'd dressed up in one of her newer outfits, when the taxi pulled up and let her out at an expensive French cuisine restaurant. She had on another of the frilled ‘lolita’ dresses that Trucy had initially recommended and she’d become attached to. It was layered, with deep blue bows around the hem of the skirt and a matching ribbon around her neck. The restaurant, meanwhile, was one that she was aware was popular with the prosecutorial office, judging by mentions she'd heard of it before. It wasn't that far from the office itself, either.

It wasn’t a surprise. It seemed every time a prosecutor invited her out to dinner, it was at a place she couldn’t have even fathomed when she was only a little younger.

She gave the man at the door a nervous smile and asked if he could point her to the Edgeworth table. 

The maitre d' gave a little bow and ushered her into the handsome dining room of the restaurant, filled with greenery, and lit by a swarm of tiny electric candles. There was a band playing classical music in the corner.

As she was led to her table, she noticed detective Dick Gumshoe and Maggey Byrde dressed up at another booth, and Maggey gave her a little wave as she passed by. She was so distracted by it that she didn't notice that someone else was sitting at the table Edgeworth was at until she'd arrived.

There, sitting at the candlelit table with its high backed chairs, was Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth– and convict Prosecutor Kristoph Gavin.

Vera gasped the moment she turned from her wave to Maggey, her black gloved hands raised to her lips as she stared at Kristoph in his chair. Joy, surprise, excitement, devotion…they all spun within her and nearly made her dizzy as she came to a stop only feet from the table.

“Oh…” she whispered, “oh my.”

The maitre d' pulled out the chair for her at the table, and as she stood there in shock both men turned to greet her.

"Good evening, Vera, it's lovely to see you again," Kristoph purred with his usual angelic smile on his face. She couldn't help but notice that he was bound in a thick and obvious set of manacles.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought company to dinner, Vera," Edgeworth said, inclining his head toward her. He smiled, but he looked pensive. "I thought it would be best, given that your internship experience will be a little different than your fellow students– considering."

“C-considering, y-yes…” She gave Miles a broad smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Edgeworth!”

She turned then to her guardian angel. “I don’t mind at all, h-hello Mr. Gavin. It’s…it’s absolutely wonderful to see you again…especially out at a dinner like this.” 

"I have to agree," Kristoph nodded. "It's been a while since I've been out to dinner. And with such good company, too."

As Vera arranged herself at the table– Edgeworth on her right and her angel on her left– the maitre d' poured wine into the glass at her place.

She gave him a thankful smile, before she sheepishly took the glass and raised it to her lips.

“Very good company…I’m surprised, but very happy, that you’re here, Mr.Gavin.” She glanced shyly at Edgeworth before she murmured “I missed you. I’m pretty excited that I get to work with you on my internship.” 

"I'll admit I'm a bit surprised to be here as well," Kristoph said with a charming smile. "I've thanked Mr. Edgeworth profusely for the opportunity. Both to be here tonight, and to work with you."

"Indeed," Edgeworth nodded. "I must say the both of you certainly seem enthused. That's… good energy for the department, if nothing else."

Vera sunk shyly into her chair with a sheepish smile. “good energy…? Do detectives not normally enjoy working with their prosecutors?” 

"That all depends on the prosecutor and the detective of course," Miles shrugged. "I'm told that many detectives find prosecutor's to be…. stuck up. Annoying. Tyrannical, occasionally."

Vera wasn't sure if this was meant to be a joke, but Kristoph smiled. "Occasionally I used to hear prosecutors call detectives lazy, irritating, slovenly…"

she squeaked, holding her hands up.

“Noooooo! I can promise I’m not lazy, Mr. Gavin.” She blushed, “or the other things, either.”

Timidly, she sipped her drink and looked between them “Mr. Klavier’s not stuck up or tyrannical. Though I have heard Ema complaining about him..”

Miles frowned. "The two of them have a… fraught relationship it seems. I try not to interfere."

Kristoph sipped his wine. The chains on his manacles clinked as he raised the glass. "They really haven't changed since they were teenagers. The same old squabble since back in germany. Klavier doesn't mean anything by it– Ema, I can't quite tell."

It was strange to be having such a normal conversation– even with the manacles reminding her that Kristoph was a prisoner.

“...since Germany?” Vera asked with genuine curiosity. “They’ve known one another that long?”

It was so normal…so pleasant. Mr. Edgeworth didn’t seem upset by her and Kristoph’s proximity, and the conversation didn’t have the heavy air of condemnation she feared it may.

It was…nice. Nice to hear more about her guardian angel’s life and her ‘big brother’...and her dear friends, while also in the company of Miles Edgeworth. 

"So they did," Kristoph nodded. "Klavier and I were living in europe at the time, and they met at the legal academy there."

"They only narrowly missed my sister Franziska, as I recall," Miles murmured. 

Kristoph swirled his wine in his glass and his chains clinked again.

"Yes, she was already prosecuting at the time. Actually, as I recall, Klavvy was rather inspired by your sister. To become a prosecutor rather than an attorney." He turned toward Vera and said, probably for her benefit, "Ms. Von Karma was prosecuting at 13. The youngest in the field to date."

Vera put her hands to her lips “oh wow…she must be a very impressive woman to inspire b..Klavier like that, and to have gotten started s-so early.”

It was amazing…the youngest prosecutor in the field ever, still holding the record even now. At 13, Vera was an expert forger…a genius like Franziska, she supposed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met her, Mr. Edgeworth.” 

"She's been in and out of the country for quite some time," Miles explained. "She no longer prosecutes regularly, rather she's the department liaison with Interpol, and does most of her work within their jurisdiction. I could arrange a lunch if you'd like to meet her some time."

"A very driven young woman– though I suppose not so young these days," Kristoph mused. 

“M-maybe.” Vera sipped her wine “I’m trying to get to know more people, after all.”

She looked up at Kristoph with a curious smile. “you knew her, Mr. Kristoph?” 

"She and I faced one another in court more than once at the time," Kristoph chuckled. "Three times, in fact. And she left with her perfect record intact. Some might have been embarrassed to losing to a teenager, but there's no shame in being beaten by a prodigy."

There was a little twitch at the edge of Kristoph's charming smile.

Miles seemed to grimace at the memory. "My sister was very… aggressive at the time."

Vera slowly reached out and patted Kristoph on the arm. 

“you’ll get her next time…boss…” she murmured with a timid smile. 

That made him laugh softly, and he tucked a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "Unlikely, since she's no longer prosecuting, and here I am. But who knows what the future holds. Speaking of prosecution though, I do believe Mr. Edgeworth had some business he wanted to get out of the way?"

Vera startled a bit, looking up at Miles with wide eyes. She’d been curious…she knew Miles likely didn’t invite her out here for small talk, he’d mentioned something he had to say. Did it have something to do with the fact her guardian angel was here?

"Ah, some, yes," Miles nodded. "Given the unique situation of your internship. First of all I deemed it too unwieldy to have you conduct the internship from prison, so you'll be granted a small office for the duration, in the building, and transported back and forth at the beginning and end of the day."

"I can see why you;d make that judgment, Prosecutor Edgeworth," Kristoph nodded. "I'll still thank you for your generosity."

Vera put her hands to her lips. 

“useful!” She breathed “that will make…make assisting Mr. Kristoph with his duties and investigations much easier, Mr. Edgeworth, sir…” 

"Indeed," Edegworth said, "It would be inconvenient to have you going back and forth from the prison all day, so there we are."

Vera leaned forward, hoping she didn’t come off as too excited as she asked “and I’ll be allowed to come and go in it, Mr. Edgeworth? As his detective…intern.” 

"Indeed. This is very much a trial run for your ambition, Vera, in more ways than one," Mr. Edgeworth said.

Kristoph gave Vera an encouraging smile from across the table.

Vera’s heart thumped in her chest. It was her trial run for her ambition in more ways than one. She could only imagine that he meant what she thought he meant by that…

Was he tentatively accepting of it? Of her affection for Kristoph, and her desire to be by his side?

He had to be. Which meant she simply couldn’t prove him wrong in this trial run.

She raised her wine glass to her lips. 

“then I promise, Mr. Edgeworth. I won’t let you down.” her eyes fell on Kristoph with a smile behind her wine glass “I think me and Mr. Kristoph will manage to impress you by the end..” 

"Excellent," Edgeworth nodded. "I have already impressed upon Mr. Gavin that I will be watching him very closely– and the same goes for you, Vera."

Vera bit her lip. “you will be, Mr. Edgeworth? I suppose you said as much when I asserted my career choice to you. Have you seen my results so far at the academy?”

"I have, Vera, and they've been exceptional," he nodded. "So I'm counting on you not to let me down when it comes to practical experience as well."

"I think Miss Misham will continue to be exceptional, if you want my opinion," Kristoph purred.

Vera turned a deep pink, and her fingers wound together as the praise warmed her like nothing else. 

“I’m striving to be nothing l-less than exceptional, sirs.” Tentatively she reached out to pat Kristoph’s hand “I aim to be the best forensic investigator of my generation, and I won’t stop even after I’ve…I’ve impressed the both of you.” 

Edgeworth's eyes tracked her hand across the table all the way as she put it on Kristoph's hand– and immediately he poured more wine into his glass, perhaps in response.

"Indeed. I'm… looking forward to having my expectations exceeded," Miles murmured. "In any case there is some other business to discuss, I'm afraid."

Under the table, Vera felt a shoe press against her own– Kristoph's.

Vera ducked her head with a small smile as she allowed her foot to press gently back against Kristoph’s, rubbing subtly against it as she looked up at Edgeworth. “other business, Mr. Edgeworth? Is it about the internship, or something else?” 

"The internship is… potentially impacted by it," Edgeworth said. He took a sip of his wine. "I've been contacted by a man claiming to be one of your relatives, Vera."

Vera watched Kristoph raise an eyebrow. "Well. That's surprising, isn't it?"

She couldn’t stop herself from twitching in surprise. “A relative? Of mine? But I only ever had papa…he told me there was nobody else after my mother left us…” 

Kristoph's fingers curled subtly around her own.

"Indeed," Miles nodded. "And I confirmed as much several years ago when I took over your filings. However, he is making the claim that he's your cousin, and he does have paperwork to prove as much."

"What does he want?" Kristoph asked. There was a firm, suspicious tone in the question.

"He's seeking a protective order."

"Charming." Kristoph did not make it sound like he felt it was charming at all.

“........” Vera’s eyes were wide, and her smile had all but died as her fingers tightened against Kristoph’s.

“A protective order…on me? I don’t know him, I don’t h-have a cousin…and even if I did I wouldn’t ne-need one.”

"I agree with that," Miles nodded. "You're an adult. You live independently. There's no need for something like that. But he's making a legal claim and it will need to be countered."

"Wonderful," Kristoph drawled. "A bogus legal claim for a protective guardianship. Should I offer to marry her to cut the legs out of his attempt?"

Vera turned a vivid red, and she was sure Miles Edgeworth noticed the wide and flustered grin before she smothered it into her usual placid expression.Marriage to save her from whoever this ‘cousin’ of hers was…the romance of it made her squirm in her seat at a loss for words.

Miles Edgeworth choked on his wine, and grabbed his chest. "I– Mr. Gavin, I think in this case such a thing would only give ammunition to his claim."

Ammunition to his claim? Vera looked up at Miles with concern. Why in the world would that give ammunition to it? Unless..

"Pardon my humor in poor taste then."

“...Is…Is he basing this order of protection on my communication with Kristoph?” she guessed in a shaky tone. 

"No, he's unaware of it, as far as I know," Miles said, shaking his head and blotting his face with a napkin. "He's basing the claim on some letters between himself and your father from a number of years ago, discussing your mental health, and your father's apparent wish that if anything were to happen to him, that you be entrusted into this man's care."

"Funny how letters keep coming up," Kristoph murmured. His hand hadn't left hers.

Vera’s fingers twitched against his, and she held it tighter as her breath caught in her throat.

“Father asked that I be....entrusted to his care? I’ve never heard of anything like this, I c-can’t believe it. And even then I’ve grown s-since I escaped father’s care.” 

"So you have," Miles nodded. "You're an independent adult. I have no wish to see this go through any more than you do."

"And I assume that you're doing everything in your power to fight it, Mr. Edgeworth?" Klavier asked. His tone was light, but there was a sharpness in his eyes.

"Obviously."

Vera took several soft, shaking breaths…she could feel the way she was shaking…the quake of her fingers against Kristoph’s and the sick fluttery feeling of anxiety welling within her.

The very thought that there was someone out there trying to take her away from everything she’d built and drag her back down into the dark terrified her more than she could take. Old habits and the difficulty she’d once found in simple speech began to well up as she brought her fingers to her lips and bit her thumbnail to try and calm herself.

If it were true, and her father had spoken with someone who’d take her when he’d died, it could only mean he was selling her–passing her on to some other criminal to print money with, just another tool like her paintbrushes and paints. 

There was a clink of chains, and Kristoph moved his hand, putting it on her shoulder. It sounded as if he and Miles had continued their conversation while Vera was struggling to breathe. 

"Vera. Vera, are you listening to me?"

“H…hhh..” she breathed sharply. Her vision was swimming as she looked up at him with watery eyes “huh?” 

"You're having a panic attack and dissociating, Vera. Tell me where we are right now."

Vera swallowed thickly. For a moment she had no idea, the phantom smell of paint thinner in the air as she shook her head. 

It couldn’t be back at the house. Miles would have never visited there. She shivered and forced herself to focus on the room around her and not her spiraling thoughts.

“Restaurant.” she murmured. “..a..a restaurant.” 

"Good. And who's here with you?"

“M..” she looked quickly between them, “Miles Edgeworth and my guardian angel.” 

"Good. What kind of chair are you sitting on?"

Vera felt under her, and her perfect recall pulled up the picture of the chair. 

“a mahogany chair with an arched back and carved floral designs in its flourishes. There’s a chip on its left backmost leg that they’ve attempted to disguise and patch with varnish and wood-putty."

"Good. And how are you feeling right now?"

Calmer. She was already calmer. The world had swam back into focus, and she could see Miles Edgeworth sitting there, looking extremely nervous with his napkin wrung between his hands.

Vera smiled gently , her hair falling in her face as she took another breath…this one deep and satisfying.

“Better. I feel calmer.” she murmured. “Sorry about that, Mr. Gavin. Mr Edgeworth…wh-what were you saying?” 

"Mostly we were worrying about you, Vera," Edgeworth said with a frown. "I'm sorry I upset you so much."

Vera shook her head “No, no it wasn’t you Mr. Edgeworth…”

She looked down at her painted nails…one of them chewed through lower than it’d been in years. The taste of polish was on her tongue, sharp and bitter.

“I was just trying to imagine who this ‘cousin’ might be, and I got thinking about my father…how he must have wanted to pass me on like a printing press or some other expensive tool.” 

"Ah," Miles nodded. "I… the thought had crossed my mind as well. But we won't allow that to happen. It would take a disaster of unprecedented magnitude to–"

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Gavin?" 

Kristoph smiled. "I don't think there's any need to discuss nightmare scenarios. The simple fact is that it won't happen.."

"Ah, yes, you're right," Edgeworth nodded and straightened his cravat. "I'll admit, I admire your confidence. And your way with people, I suppose." He glanced at Vera.

"Talking her through her panic attack just now?" Kristoph's smile dimmed very slightly. "I have experience with it, I'm afraid."

Vera ducked her head apologetically again, smiling quietly as she rubbed her fingertip against her jagged nail. 

“Helped a lot.” she admitted “...you do, Mr. Gavin? I can tell…you were…c-calming.” 

"My brother used to have them when we were younger I'm afraid. I got used to soothing him."

"Ah," Edgeworth murmured, still fussing with his cravat. "That would be a useful skill to have in one, if one were susceptible to such a thing. In any case, I'm glad you were able to reassure Vera a bit."

Vera’s fingers reached out again to touch Kristoph’s arm, “I didn’t know he and I had that in common too..” she murmured

She looked at Edgeworth with a shaky smile. 

“...a-anyway. I won’t let it happen either…I don’t intend to let anyone take my future from me.” 

"Good." Edgeworth nodded. "Well then– let's consider business out of the way for now and have dinner. I can fill you in on the rest over coffee."

"That sounds nice, Mr. Edgeworth," Kristoph said with a smile. "Why don't we talk about lighter things for now. Vera, have you seen the menu yet? You might recognize one of the dishes on it."

Vera looked down at the menu, and her expression lit up as she held it up “Vongole!!! I want to order that!” 

[egg-emperor]

,,,,,,,,,,i-i don't want to hide this on anon and you don't have to respond but I think I'd feel better if I get this off of my chest admiring your blog and interests of course, but moreso I think you're a wonderful person that I wish the best for. As a lost self-shipping aromantic in the world wondering I always come to your blog for comfort and a small chuckle of trivia every once and then but I do wish to confide in your inbox to let you know erm- awkwardly I might have an affectionate little crush on you--it's silly and dumb and I'm sorry I shouldn't write this in secrecy but I really just-- mean this with the best intentions merely confiding to Secretly whisper that someone out there somewhere geeks out alongside with you over nerdy fictional scientists scheming, aro-to-aro I simply aspire and admire your brute sensible truth and downright devilish infectious excitement and passion you have--

All I have really left to say is that I've been possibly following for longer then two years at this point ashvdshbshsbs -you may now do with this information as you will-

/)//////////(\

omg thank you much, that's really sweet ya got me blushing here 🥰 I'm really happy that you enjoy my blog and it's a very pleasant surprise that you also like my personality behind it! you seem like a wonderful person yourself and I wish the best for you too

not silly and dumb at all don't worry at all, I know what you mean with that affectionate crush feeling. I never expected anyone would feel that way towards me from this blog, I'm flattered and honored! I'm delighted to know I'm not alone in what I do, one of the only things better than geeking out over nerdy scheming fictional scientists is having someone to do it with hehe. very glad to have you here!

hell yeah aro-to-aro I appreciate it. I've never known anyone to have any type of crush when they only know me as my faceless self online. and this is one of the places I truly get to be myself so it makes me so happy to know my true personality and how I express myself can be likable in itself! those being my boldest traits has gotten me negative reactions from some on here, it brings me joy that it's positive for you

there's no way I'd be able to guess! XD wow I appreciate you for sticking around that long and I hope my blog can continue to be enjoyable for you! I appreciate your courage in letting me know, it made my day 💜💕

[tk-duveraun]

Lian and the Capitalist Fuckboy AU 4/?

1. 2. 3. 4 (here) 5.

She will have terrible scars for the rest of her life, but she will have a life to live. 

Once the white mages clear the grounds of the Feng’s Kugane house, the entire family descends on (ascends to?) it. Hancock is made to sit in the dining room and eat until Mingtao is satisfied he’s had enough.

Lian’s mother and twin brothers take her to bathe while her father and twin sisters strip the bed, remake it and thoroughly clean the room. Hancock isn’t really thinking clearly, mind mostly buzzing with the fact that Lian will recover and live and be okay. But even in his distracted state, he has a moment of disjointed confusion. Shouldn’t Lian’s sisters be the ones helping with the bath?

But then he remembers the twin boys are strong white and black mages respectively, which make them much better bath attendants for someone only half-conscious. They were also large enough to carry her and move her around without aggravating the lingering wounds and new scales. It was only his Uldan-Hyur sensibilities that found it strange.

As he mechanically chews a fresh meat bun, Hancock remembers Lian mentioning that gender wasn’t really a concept for her people. Some people were large, others were small and that didn’t particularly affect anything other than procreation and even then, she’d said, there were workarounds. 

Mingtao pushed another bowl of soup at Hancock.

He wasn’t too, too familiar with Lian’s sandi. Mingtao didn’t really care for business and his Hingan was about as broken as Hancock’s Shuiwen. So the two sat quietly in the dining room.

At a stunned kind of distance, Hancock watched the Feng servants bring in more tables and seats to fill the dining room. Despite knowing Lian’s family was large, he’d always taken the size of the manor to be a symbol of the family’s affluence more than a practical purchase. Hancock mentally tallied the rooms against the number of family members and found it a much tighter fit than he’d previously thought.

Hancock remained at the table even once the food was cleared by the servants. He took his cue from Mingtao to stay out of the way. His choice was solidified when Mingyun joined them with a pile of papers and Lian’s assistant.

Mingyun greeted his brother with a clap on the shoulder before sitting next to him. Across the table, he shot Hancock a long-suffering grimace, though his posture was still loose with relief.

“Work’s built up,” Mingyun said in Hingan. “Sakurai-san’s a great asset, of course, but too much of our work requires direct family approval.”

Sakurai Mikana, sat on Mingyun’s side, nodded. “There was only so much I could do communicating everything via linkpearl.”

“The benefit of being, myself, a proxy,” Hancock said.

Mingyun didn’t look up from his papers, “Well, if Nanarito doesn’t appreciate you enough, we’ll take care of that.”

Mingtao asked something in Shuiwen and they had a short back and forth before Mingyun snorted and looked up at Hancock just to roll his eyes.

“A-Tao thinks I’m getting ahead of things, but he hasn’t been subjected to the matchmakers yet.”

Mikana made a comment in Shuiwen that had Mingyun chuckle and pat his brother’s thigh. “See? I know what I’m talking about.”

Mingtao made a sour face, and got up, saying something dismissive with the word kitchen in it.

Before Hancock could parse all of that, Lian’s mother entered the dining room and gestured for Hancock and her son to follow her.

She took them to a different room than Lian had been using before. The bed was visibly larger and made Lian look tiny and fragile. She was wrapped in an orange, silk, sleeping robe to protect the fragile, new scales. The still-healing wounds on Lian’s face were free of bandages, but covered in a green paste. The largest splotch was on her left cheek, which, at least, no longer showed signs of infection.

Lian was asleep, but her skin, though still pale from long illness, had a flush of life that had Hancock’s heart in his throat.

Hancock was ushered into the seat at the head of the bed by Lian’s mother. He wasn’t ignorant of the blessing that was and gave her the most polite thanks he knew in Shuiwen.

“Enough of that,” she replied in Hingan. She had an accent, but was clearly very practiced in the language. She sat on the opposite side of the bed and ran her hand over the crown of Lian’s head. Lian’s hair had been dried and braided after the bath. “That’s your place. We’ve known that for a long time.”

“We’ve known way more than that for a long time,” Minghong chimed in. He was leaned against the wall at the foot of Lian’s bed. Both he and his twin held complimentary staves.

“Be nice,” one of Lian’s twin sisters said. “You don’t want to scare off dage now.”

“If her smothering hasn’t done it by now, nothing will,” Minghong said.

“See? I told you a-Tao was in denial,” Mingyun said.

Hancock smiled helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Oh. He doesn’t know,” the second of Lian’s sisters said.

“Sh, sh, no one tell him,” the first sister said.

“You were just telling me not to bully him!” Minghong shot back.

Lian’s parents burst into laughter. Mingyu followed, then the rest of the siblings. It was probably the first time they’d laughed in days. The catharsis of relieved tension hit Hancock like a physical force and he found himself joining in even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

...because it certainly couldn’t be that...

[oscarswildetiger]

Was having a conversation with a friend and this came up, she cracks UP watching a show. I don't think I ever laugh and if I do it's more of a quiet sensible chuckle if I'm with someone. She thinks I'm weird. I think she's weird.

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 18 BTS Episode 2: Flawless Arrangement (完美置办) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

Episode 1

♡———♡

The summer heat was receding, and the weather turned cool. A morning breeze ruffled Charlie's meticulously styled hair, bringing a refreshing coolness. He adjusted his collar, glanced at the time, and strode towards the residential complex in front of him.

A few days prior, upon learning that his fiancée was overwhelmed and struggling to find a suitable new home, he had volunteered to take on this important task.

“Fiancée, let me find an apartment for you.”

“It’s not troubling Uncle Ji; your fiancé will personally select it. After all, I’ve rented a place myself recently and gained some valuable insights."

“Rest assured, no one in the world understands apartment hunting better than I do now. I’ll definitely find you the perfect place,” Charlie confidently declared.

He then spent the night searching through a dozen promising listings and arranged a grand apartment-viewing plan with a real estate agent for early that morning.

Charlie entered the first target complex, his long trench coat billowing a gust of wind, causing the fallen leaves to rustle crisply.

The agent, dressed in a white shirt and black suit pants, ran over from a distance, panting as he stopped in front of Charlie. A few unruly strands of hair stuck out to the side, but his eyes sparkled as he looked at Charlie.

“Sir, you’re here so early! Young people these days seem to love sleeping in, it’s rare to see someone as diligent as you, coming to look at apartments so early.”

Charlie listened, saying nothing, simply nodding slightly.

The agent continued, “Who are you looking for the apartment for? Yourself? Parents? Friends? Or… a girlfriend?”

Charlie chuckled, “No, none of those. Or rather, not exactly correct.”

He paused, “I’m looking for my fiancée.” He emphasized the word “fiancée,” his tone filled with happiness.

The agent smiled, pleasantly surprised. “Hahahaha, I see! You must love your fiancée very much! It’s clear from your eyes.”

“With your exceptional presence, I’m sure you and your fiancée are a perfect match, a match made in heaven!”

As the agent complimented him, Charlie smiled. “Indeed, you make a valid point.”

-

The two continued chatting as they walked toward the target apartment.

Upon entering, the agent began his enthusiastic introduction. “This apartment faces north and south, with a sensible layout. The owner recently finished renovations and originally planned to live here themselves. As you can see, the furniture is all brand new and high-quality…”

As he listened, Charlie walked around the apartment, carefully inspecting every corner, his brow gradually furrowing.

He entered the bathroom, finding the shower area too small and lacking a dry-wet separation, making it easy to spill water and difficult to clean. The toilet paper was easily soaked, and there was no place for her change of clothes, bath towels, or shower caps.

He then entered the bedroom, finding that although the bed was spacious, the hallway was very narrow. He shook his head, knowing his fiancée wouldn’t be comfortable resting in such a cramped space.

“Let’s go to the next one,” he said to the agent, one leg already out the door.

On the way, he said to the agent seriously, “To improve efficiency, let me reiterate my apartment-finding criteria.”

Seeing his serious demeanor, the agent put away his playful attitude and listened attentively.

“Firstly, the location must be within a 20-minute walk from Wanzhen.”

“Secondly, the complex must have reliable security and property management. There must be large supermarkets, fruit shops, hair salons, and gyms nearby. There must be no construction or renovation near the apartment.”

“The rooms must be free of odors, have sunlight, and the bed and wardrobe must be spacious. The bathroom must have a dry-wet separation…”

Charlie meticulously listed his requirements for the apartment. He imagined himself as his fiancée, picturing every step of her day from waking up, going to work, returning home, and going to sleep, gradually refining his standards for the apartment.

-

Charlie was determined to find the safest, most comfortable, and suitable place for his fiancée to live.

The agent listened, nodding repeatedly, almost reaching for a notebook to take notes.

Finally, he smiled and sighed, “Sir, you’ve listed so many requirements, considering every detail. Your fiancée must be very happy to have you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll match you with a few more apartments that meet your requirements, I’ll definitely satisfy you!”

Charlie nodded reassuringly. “Thank you.”

For the next few days, the agent led Charlie to look at apartments. They left at dawn and didn’t finish until the moon was high.

Charlie always found hidden problems in each apartment, rejecting them with a single vote of disapproval.

In his view, the apartment was a place for his fiancée to rest her body and mind and enjoy her freedom after a busy day, so it had to be selected with the highest standards, preferring quality over quantity.

Therefore, no matter how much time and effort it took, he was willing to invest.

The agent, who had initially been chatty and eager to please, became increasingly tired, far from matching Charlie’s unwavering spirit and enthusiasm.

Finally, on the third evening, Charlie settled on a very suitable apartment.

The owner had to rent it out temporarily due to an emergency, and Charlie was fortunate enough to successfully rent the apartment that met his “perfect” definition.

He walked slowly around the apartment, inspecting every detail again and again, imagining his fiancée living there.

As her image floated into his mind, he smiled, feeling a surge of warmth, and the previous fatigue instantly disappeared.

-

Charlie sat on the sofa, watching the projector and the wall-sized screen, thinking that his fiancée could have her own home theater, wondering if she would wrap herself in a blanket to watch horror movies alone.

“I’ll have to get her some back cushions to protect her spine,” he thought to himself.

He entered the study, turning on the warm yellow eye-protection lamp. Two bookcases were enough to hold her collection.

She could make herself a cup of coffee or cocoa and enjoy some leisurely reading after work, or quickly capture any flashes of inspiration.

He opened the bedroom door, where a window opened up to the distant skyline, offering an excellent view. Due to the high floor and the room’s orientation away from the city center, there were no skyscrapers to block the view.

It was evening, and a full moon was perfectly framed in the upper left corner of the window, the night sky filling the remaining space; below, the city lights twinkled. In the distance, leisurely clouds floated in the moonlight, and the hazy suburban mountains loomed.

The window was like a painting, capturing both nature and urban life. Although it wasn’t as wide as a floor-to-ceiling window, it was tall enough to allow a panoramic view of half the city.

Charlie drew the sheer curtains, and the moonlight gently bathed the bed.

He suddenly remembered her sweet and peaceful sleeping face, feeling a warmth in his heart and a softness in his eyes.

He walked out, taking one last look around.

“Yes, everything is perfect, she’ll definitely like it. She’ll probably think in her heart, ‘My fiancé has such good taste and knows how to live!’” He thought, feeling a little proud.

“Remember to bring her a bedside lamp, and a toilet seat cushion, plant-based aromatherapy, a humidifier… Should I also order a pair of Charlie exclusive couple refrigerator magnets?” He pondered seriously, talking to himself.

But even that wasn’t enough.

He wanted to give his fiancée the warmest, most comfortable, and safest harbor. He formed another plan in his mind.

-

The next day after dinner, Charlie arrived at the new apartment with a box of scented sachets. He took a small bottle of herbal essential oil from the bottom of the box and carefully dripped it, drop by drop, onto each sachet.

He smelled the sachets, and a faint, elegant herbal fragrance lingered in the air, refreshing his mind and body.

He had specifically chosen essential oils with calming properties, hoping to help his fiancée sleep well through the night.

He picked out a dozen sachets and placed them in various corners of the room. Soon, the small apartment was filled with the subtle scent of herbs, making it feel like being deep in a forest.

Charlie nodded in satisfaction, picked up the remaining sachets, walked out the door, and gently knocked on a neighbor's door.

The door opened, and an elderly woman cautiously peered out, her expression questioning.

Charlie smiled and politely said, "Hello, I'm about to become your neighbor, I wanted to introduce myself."

Then Charlie handed her the scented sachets, "These sachets are for you, they can help you sleep."

Seeing Charlie's friendly expression, the old woman relaxed, opened the door, and accepted the gift.

"Oh, thank you!" She smelled the sachets and smiled, "They smell very nice, thank you, young man!"

Charlie added, "Actually, my fiancée will be living here, she's been quite busy lately, and will move in a few days."

The old woman nodded, understanding. Charlie chatted with her for a while, and as he was about to leave, the old woman said, "Young man, if you have any problems in the future, just come to me, and I'll do my best to help."

He visited the other nearby neighbors in the same manner, and all gave positive responses.

With the neighbors looking out for her, he felt her safety would be more assured. He finally felt at ease.

"Finally, there's just one more thing left," he said with a mysterious smile, talking to himself, "Charlie, you're still so romantic."

He called the florist and ordered a large bouquet of lilies, to be delivered on her move-in day.

Let the fragrance of lilies, along with the scent of the sachets, welcome his fiancée’s arrival.

Charlie slowly walked out of the residential building, a smile still lingering on his face.

.

.

.

.

.

Episode 3

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip here or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[scarydogprivilege-aliciaadole]

1 - Sunset

"I've lost all sensibility..." - Laufey

Please listen to the song while reading.

TJ and Aiko

“Come on, let’s go!” Aiko said, giggling as he finally managed to drag TJ out his house.

TJ was not expecting a surprise visit from Aiko, and he definitely was not expecting Aiko to force him to take a walk to the beach.

TJ groaned. “Aiko, I look so fucking horrible right now. You could at least let me change into something better.” He mumbled, tugging on his black sweater and fixing baggy grey sweatpants.

“I think you look great already.” Aiko said with a small chuckle as he poked TJ on the nose and skipped ahead of him.

TJ let out a small huff with a frown and followed along, his large strides quickly catching up to Aiko.

As they walked in silence, including the sound of Aiko's humming, TJ glanced at Aiko’s appearance.

Aiko was wearing baggy jeans with some converse. He had a white t-shirt on which was cropped, so a bit of his stomach would show as he walked. Aiko has his signature gold slim rings on and his gold earrings to match as well.

Even though the outfit was simple, TJ thought he looked beautiful.

Wait- Beautiful?

TJ stopped in his tracks.

Beautiful…

“TJ?”

“Yea, sorry…”

Aiko hummed. “Is there something on your mind?” Aiko said, tilting his head to the side as he turned around and walked backwards to face TJ.

Yes. A lot was on his mind, but it all seemed to be about one thing. Aiko.

TJ never found anyone fun to be with (this is false, he just doesn’t admit it), let alone attractive. He was always annoyed at someone in some way, and he believed that this would never change.

But Aiko. Aiko.

Aiko was doing something to TJ. Opening him up. Cracking the shell, almost letting everything spill out. TJ was falling hard.

And he really didn’t want to.

“Theo. You have to respond to me, y’know?” Aiko whined playfully, shoving his shoulder.

Theo snapped out of his daze. “Oh yea.. My bad.” Theo mumbled, crossing his arms while crossing the street to the beach.

Aiko’s eyes softened, noticing TJ hesitance before following along. Aiko walked beside him. “You know you can talk to me right?”

TJ nodded, rubbing his thumb on his bicep, looking off into the distance as they finally got to the beach.

The pair sat on a nearby bench, looking at the sunsetting and the waves. Aiko glanced at TJ with a concerned expression.

“Theo.” Aiko said softly, placing a hand on TJ’s bicep.

TJ flinched at Aiko's touch but quickly relaxed into it, turning to face him. TJ doesn’t let anyone use his first name, but now, because it’s Aiko, he can do whatever.

Because it's Aiko.

TJ let out a small groan. “I can’t explain it.” He said, frustrated.

Aiko’s expression softened. “You don’t have to.” He said softly, his fingers rubbing TJ’s bicep.

TJ let his hands fall to his lap. “Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain.” Aiko said with a small chuckle and a smile.

He leaned forwards crossing his arms. “You can take your time and figure out how to explain it later.” He said tapping his foot on the sand.

TJ was in disbelief. “You’d… wait?” He said slowly.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“But what if I take too long or what I say still doesn’t make sense?” TJ asked, sticking his hands out, bewildered.

Aiko chuckled,  “I’d still wait. I’d help you figure it out.” Aiko said, softly placing his hand on TJ’s, bringing his hand back down to his lap.

TJ’s gaze fell down to Aiko’s hand and frowned in thought.

He has some time.

“Give me time to explain. I… need to sort myself out first.” TJ said, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

Aiko nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, you have all the time you need.” Aiko said, rubbing TJ's palm slowly.

TJ was confused. What was he feeling? He felt uneasy, unbalanced. Aiko was doing something to him that was very unfamiliar. He didn’t like it at all, but at the same time all he wanted to be was to be close to Aiko.

What was going on? Maybe TJ was going crazy.

[kanisema-blog]

Love Bet

Chapter 2

Returning to the firm after our beach retreat felt like stepping back into the whirlwind of deadlines and design concepts. As I made my way to my desk, my coworkers greeted me warmly, eager to share their own post-retreat stories.

"Hey Jeya, welcome back!" Claire grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You missed quite a sight! There was this guy at the beach with abs that could cut diamonds!"

I chuckled, rolling my eyes playfully. "I'll take your word for it, Claire. Sounds like you had a good time."

Mark, who sat nearby, joined in with a smirk. "Yeah, Claire hasn't stopped talking about him since we got back. I think she's found her summer crush."

Claire feigned offense, swatting at Mark's arm. "Hey now, a girl can appreciate some eye candy without it being a crush!"

Amidst the banter, Sarah chimed in from across the room. "Speaking of crushes, did anyone see that cute bartender at the beach club? I swear, he could mix a killer cocktail."

Dan laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Looks like everyone had their eye on someone. Jeya, did you meet anyone interesting?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, masking the unease that stirred within me. "Just enjoyed the scenery and the sun, you know."

The morning progressed with a flurry of emails and project updates until my phone buzzed with a notification from our boss. He wanted to see me in his office—a summons that always brought a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

Entering his office, I found Mr. Ab Adam reviewing a stack of papers, his expression focused yet approachable. "Ah, Jeya. Good to have you back. Have a seat."

I settled into the chair opposite him, curiosity piqued. "What's up, Mr. Ab Adam?"

He looked up, offering me a small smile before getting to the point. "We've just landed a new client, Jeya. His name is Felix Acherley."

The name hit me like a sudden gust of wind, stirring memories I had buried deep within. Felix—a name that once held promises of laughter and whispered confidences beneath starlit skies. But those memories were tinged with a sadness I hadn't fully confronted.

Mr. Ab Adam continued, unaware of the storm brewing within me. "Felix needs our expertise for a new project. I thought you'd be perfect for it, given your design sensibilities."

I hesitated, my mind racing. Felix Acherley. The one who once held my heart in his hands before shattering it with a betrayal I couldn't forget. The thought of facing him again, even professionally, sent a wave of conflicting emotions through me.

"I... I understand, Mr. Ab Adam," I managed finally, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'll take on the project."

Mr. Ab Adam nodded approvingly, oblivious to the turmoil raging beneath my composed exterior. "Excellent, Jeya. I knew I could count on you. Take some time to review the details. I'll have the files sent to your desk."

As I left his office, I felt the weight of my decision settle upon me. The past and present collided, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls around my heart. But I was determined to face this challenge head-on, for the sake of my career and perhaps, deep down, to find closure where wounds still lingered.

Returning to my desk, I took a deep breath and immersed myself in the task at hand. The familiar hum of the office provided a comforting backdrop as I delved into the project details, pushing aside memories that threatened to overwhelm me.

Throughout the day, snippets of conversations drifted around me, discussions of upcoming projects and weekend plans. Yet beneath it all, the echo of Felix's name lingered like a shadow, a reminder of a past that refused to stay buried.

As evening approached, I gathered my belongings and prepared to leave, my mind still grappling with the unexpected twist fate had thrown my way. The drive home was quiet, the city lights blurring into a mosaic of colors as I wrestled with my emotions.

Arriving at my house, I poured myself a glass of wine. Thoughts of Felix swirled in my mind, his face etched in the corners of my memories—laughter, shared dreams, and the pain of betrayal.

But as the night deepened and the stars glittered overhead, I made a silent vow to myself. I would face Felix Acherley once more, not just for the sake of professionalism, but to confront the ghosts of our past and perhaps, finally find the closure I desperately needed.