#and who I desperately want people to guess at. please let me be a cryptic riddlemaster please please please

[infinitethree]

OOC::

Spicy twist on what you thought you knew! :)

Casual reminder that Daz's playlist is out and even if he has some Very Sad songs, he is still a bastard. Awful little guy. Terrible. He's my favorite for a reason.

[trauma-bot]

ouuuu i need the lore... i love selfships so much.... nuze lore please.... if you want..........

YAY YAY YAY. im gonna try so hard to keep this somewhat brief to leave room for any more questions but we'll see how that goes <3

so to preface this E does have a toyhouse bio that you can look at if you're curious! it has a more in-depth look at his personality and whole deal. you can also look at his gallery if you'd like; thats where his references and other artwork for him are stored!

ALRIGHT. RAMBLING UNDER THE CUT

a lot of it is very much to fulfill my weird convoluted fantasy of "what if i lost all hope for a future that i exist in and was convinced that i was going to succumb to the claws of my trauma and rot there forever (basically dooming myself in my own narrative) thus becoming the absolute worst version of myself in what i believe to be my final moments only for someone (two someones in this case) to love and believe in me so much that, despite it all and despite everything that was done to me and that ive done myself, gives me enough hope to undoom myself". i'm normal i swear.

also just generally im a big big sucker for stories about survivors of trauma being there for each other, and in that way i get a lot of comfort from nuze.

SO. NUZE LORE... (once again shout outs to my bestie night for coining their ship name lol)

i guess ill break it down like this, starting with N/E. (alt. ship name being pupE love (coined by another bestie of mine charlie)) E knew N back at the manor and they were close friends then, N was the first person E came out as trans to (by that i mean. N helped E work through his tumultuous robo gender feelings in real time) and N was the only one E really felt comfortable around. (other than tessa! E was also friendly with V back then as well<3)

however, E was also badly traumatized by his time in the manor, and of course Canon Events happen. E, as a disassembly drone, is now much more muted, detached, numbed, and devoted completely to their directive. he's very very very repressed and his specific brand of memory issues as well as the fucked up memory dreams causes him to dissociate and spiral a lot. he also distanced himself a lot from N for reasons even he isn't entirely privy to. something in his hardwiring just told him that N would be safer the less E stayed with him. and N is!!! really saddened by that!!! its normal! E has to learn to not be an emotionless object and actually let himself feel and need and yearn, and N is a big help with that (uzi is as well ofc!!)

i have to skip past a lot of things for the sake of not making this post so many words long but regardless; N/E is really special to me because they are two people who are in a very similar and scary situation and have had to see each other get hurt or even killed in many clone instances in many reset memory files. and its the just. the willingness to love despite knowing what happened to you and even witnessing it at times, to say "this is not all we are" and break free from those iron chains despite knowing how much it'll hurt and how dire everything is. E is so convinced that its all worthless and he couldn't be anything more than what he's used for, while N desperately wants a better life for himself and those he loves, and he's gonna drag E kicking and screaming to hope and healing. <3

NOW. UZIE :3 (alt. ship name is angelfangz)

E is MIA from the squad until like right after episode 3 canonically happens and is found by uzi and N. uzi does not trust E at first not one bit LMFAO. she doesn't hate him but like. her only frame of reference for murder drones besides N is V and J. and also E is like. he's weird and says weird cryptic things and is not exactly the easiest to talk to due to how off-putting and repressed he is. at first E is like "why is there a worker drone. in the spire. and we're all okay with this" but after actually getting more context behind Everything he's curious about her more than anything. he has to be swayed into betraying his initial directive (kill all worker drones. yknow) only because thats like all he knows how to do and would feel aimless without it, but once he is he's loyal to his new directive (help uzi figure out what the hell is going on with this solver business). yeah he treats himself like an object that can only find worth in being ordered around but we dont have time to unpack all of that right now. he unlearns it later i prommy.

uzi is like. spitefully resistant to getting to know E on a deeper lever, but this is uzi "no bonding thing" doorman and she cannot help but care about E and be concerned about his behavior. she will notttt admit that however and stubbornly holds her ground. it isnt until post-episode 4 when E and uzi are fully vulnerable around each other.

uziE is. so so very important to me. uzi has been outcasted and isolated for so much of her life, she's been treated as a weirdo freak monster by her classmates and becomes outwardly prickly and aggressive to cope with how little affection and reassurance she's been given. i know she's internalized it to mean there is something wrong with her that everyone else can see, and its only a matter of time before those who actually care for her see it too and leave her. and i know that the events of episode 4 confirmed it in her mind, that she is a freak monster and everyone was right to avoid and hate her, even though she never asked for any of this. thats a very familar feeling to me- and by extension E. E recognizes the feeling of being made into a monster against your will, of fearing and being unable to trust yourself, and of feeling like its best for everyone's safety to hide away. E and uzi find solace and comfort in each other for that. they dont see each other as broken irredeemable monsters, so maybe they aren't.

im stopping here because holy shit this got long but THERES A LOT MORE LOLL. tldr nuze altogether is very very important to me and i could talk about them forever and ever. they love each other all so much and they grow and heal and forgive and aaaaughhhgh<3 im normal.

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 1

1. Sex Toys/Strap-on, Mutual Masturbation, Muscle

It can be fun to make them frustrated. 

If you set limits they usually listen: no touching each other, no looking away, no coming until I say that you’re allowed to. They know the final release will be even sweeter if they’re good. You’re the only one with the fortitude to actually enforce it, and they’re loath to let you down, so they obey. 

But they’ve been needy recently. When you’re immortal time can seem very short, so when you enforced a month of chastity at first they seemed intrigued by the idea. However by the end of the first week they were needy, and at the end of the second they were desperate. Begging for your permission, which was only granted after a great length. 

Not in the way they expected though. 

You’re spread out on the bed, legs akimbo; Aziraphale is on the bedroom chair with his trousers around his ankles; and Crowley is simply leaning up against the doorframe. Then sounds filling the room are the soft slap of skin on skin, the heavy breathing of concentration. 

Your angel has his hand around his cock, working it rhythmically, running his thumb over the head. Your devil has the fingers of one hand buried in his cunt, the other working his clit with such force you’re sure he will be sore tomorrow. You match their pace evenly, working between your legs with glee, their performance taking your lust to new heights. Your own personal pornography. 

“That’s it,” Aziraphale breathes. His eyes flit between the two of you. He wants to see who can take more fingers, and irritatingly Crowley always wins that one. He has four inside himself, crooking to hit his own g-spot. He’s collapsed against the door in order to try and keep himself propped up, slick with sweat and cum.

“Oh, Crowley, you’re lovely,” you whisper. He manages a grin and fuck himself harder.

“That’s it darling,” Aziraphale encourages, squeezing his sac with his free hand and speeding up his pmovements. Crowley moans.

“I’m going to —”

“Yes,” is the simultaneous response, and the three of you come at the same time, endorphins flooding you and making you hazy. Aziraphale cums in pearls jets over his hand, Crowley’s fingers damp as he squirts.

You collapse into the pillows. 

“There,” you manage, “will that tide you over?”

From the hungry look in their eyes you can guess that the answer is no. 

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee

@fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran

(people at the bottom of this list I'm not sure it's letting me tag you properly - can you please make sure you are searcable on tumblr? I reblogged a post about this earlier)

[thedemoninmywalls]

Control

Rire decides to be nice, for once.

Ever since Rire appeared in her home, Aro searched for a way to get rid of him.

Her first attempt hadn’t worked - she didn’t have the nerve to stab him with a knife.

So Aro went online, and to the library, where she dug through dusty tomes and sketchy websites. She looked at dark magic and witchcraft and demonology and the art of exorcisms. People from all cultures and ages have been trying to get rid of demons for millenia. There was a lot to be learned and much of it was easily accessible.

Some of her sources led her to real exorcists and witches who offered such services, but Aro avoided them. Even if they could succeed, she was sure that Rire would retaliate, and she couldn’t stand the idea of anyone getting hurt on her behalf.

She could do this by herself.

And she did. Salt was strewn over her doorways and cryptic runes drawn around her room. She covered all the mirrors in her apartment and sealed the cracks with a paste made from chicken blood and melted-down silver. She scattered ash around her bed and whispered prayers in strange tongues.

Nothing worked.

No matter what Aro tried or how reputable the source, somehow Rire was always there, waiting for her, often with a cup of tea in hand. Being a demon king, Rire had a pretty high immunity towards things that would have hurt lesser demons. He laughed at her attempts to repel him and verbally abused her for even trying.

He liked to watch as her hopes crumbled and the light left her eyes, before pinning her to the bed and fucking her senseless long into the night.

Still Aro pored over her books and websites, following strange threads into the arcane and mysterious, desperation rising as she searched for something - anything - that could possibly work against a powerful demon.

But the words began to blur and her eyelids drooped.

The endless nights were taking a toll on her body and her mind. She stubbornly held onto the hope that she could defeat Rire, but she was running out of energy. She didn’t have the strength to fight for much longer.

So Rire was surprised, one night, to find Aro waiting for him on her bed. She just sat there calmly, like a sacrifice on an altar, exhaustion etched into her eyes.

“Well, this is a change of pace,” he commented, sweeping into the room. “No schemes tonight? No silly little tricks to get rid of me?”

Aro shrugged without much effort. “Guess I’m out of ideas.”

“Are you giving up on me, little human?”

Rire’s voice took on a deadly serious tone.

Aro hesitated. “I didn’t say that,” she said carefully. “I’m just…tired.”

The truth of it seemed to weigh on her shoulders. “I’m so tired, Rire.”

“I know you are, my pet,” he drew nearer to her. “Tonight, all I ask is that you give me control. Can you do that for me?”

Aro opened her mouth to respond, but the words that came out were not her own.

“Of course, sir. I will give you control.”

They were spoken in her voice, but they came from somewhere else. Rire smirked, and his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose to reveal his yellow eyes. He ordered her to unzip his pants, and she did so, her movements neat and precise as though guided by a puppeteer’s hand.

Aro felt all this happening as though it were happening to someone else. She was not in control of her arms, her hands, her body, but what was the point in fighting it? It was so much easier to relax and let him do the work.

She suddenly felt more tired than ever.

“Beg to suck my dick,” Rire ordered.

“Please, sir, let me suck your dick,” she replied mechanically, with no input from her actual brain. “Please, I want it more than anything.”

And Rire gave her what she wanted.

Closing her eyes, Aro felt the pull of her mind drifting into unconsciousness. She opened them again when she felt new sensations in her body. She could no longer tell what was Rire’s dick and what was his tentacles. The pain and pleasure blended together. She felt like she was outside looking in, watching him violate her body in increasingly horrible ways.

Rire was speaking, but he sounded distant, far away. She could no longer tell where her thoughts ended and his words began.

A good toy doesn’t have any thoughts. A good toy doesn’t fight back, doesn’t misbehave. A good toy exists only to please their master. Now relax and be a good toy for your master.

Somehow, Rire had tapped into that traitorous little part of Aro’s brain that wanted to be held and used and wanted. That welcomed the abuse, if it meant she could feel his touch. She welcomed the feeling of her holes being stretched and filled and used. She imagined that he was holding her close, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, promising that she would be his forever.

Did she imagine it, or was it real?

Lost in the demon’s embrace, Aro didn’t really know what was real anymore, nor did she care.

Tomorrow, she would fight again.

Tonight, she was tired.

[berryunho]

Not you and Bee updating your fics the same day when just yesterday I was going through both fics again because I missed them dearly. You people are gonna kill me, the adrenaline that shot through me hit so hard when I saw The Answer and Wonderwall had updated that I almost spooked myself and fell from my bed.

Anyways HELLO! Good to see you again <3

Hope you're having a good 2024 so far.

Here we go on another one of my unnecessarily long ass comments about the fic, sure hope I haven't overstayed my welcome with them just yet lmao (let me know if I do end up overdoing it at some point please, I will gladly tone it down if it becomes a problem).

FIRST OF ALL: I THINK I'M GOING INSANE.

Maybe its the hj brainrot that I've been stuck on for the last few months, maybe it's the fact that the ateez hyperfixation is hitting harder than usual since the comeback but him throwing a tantrum yelling "you will not take her from me"? Butterflies. Got me giggling and kicking my feet. I was rolling around on my bed as I read that.

Maybe it's the absence making the heart grow fonder and all that.

That being said, my misplaced fondness for this clown did die down once he hit us with the whole "she should be begging me for her life", if the cult thing wasn't enough of an ick I guess that did the job. Like, sir you had me for a sec there with the possessiveness (*tucks my hair like debbie ryan*) why did you have to remind me of your actual personality?

But yeah, catch me slowly being dragged down against my will to join the TheAnswer!HJ simps, though I guess that's what's gonna happen to mc soon enough too, I really am along for the ride with her. Me and mc peering down the edge into the abyss where they lay, the abyss stares right back at us. Damn. People are right, we are not immune to cult propaganda. Tragic.

I really wanted to point out that this chapter had me extra paranoid than the last one tbh, you mentioned in the notes that this was shorter and that you felt like it was lackluster, but I seriously didn't feel it at all because of how on edge I was at times, not as much as let's say during her escape attempt in the corn field sure, but I was still wary and uneasy while reading. I know we had the whole circus with the Guardian thing last time, but san being so urgent in his claims that they have to leave and us getting to hear about how pissed off hj got because of mc's "unsatisfying" reaction to his little scheme? I am dead serious when I tell you I was bracing for the absolute worst, got me shaking in my little tinfoil hat.

The part about the machine harvesting the field? With mc saying she wouldn't want to be caught in it? (ALSO I SEE THAT SHORT YEOSANG MOMENT, I SEE YOU LEAVING A TRAIL OF BREAD CRUMBS FOR HIM 👁👁 <- EYES THAT SEE)

My 2 braincells immediately went "oh em gee, foreshadowing?", like I am certain to my core that someone's gonna fucking die to that or be horrifically injured, its just a matter of: whom? 🤨 I'm gonna save my guess as to who it could be in case that does happen, but I will come back here to yell on another ask about it if that comes up in the future.

Then the scene with hj and hwa talking to mc about her questions, and she hits them with the "oh what can I do if I'm alone?" and hwa is desperately trying to get her to stfu (me too man, me too) while hj smiles at her. You know, like a cryptic weirdo.

Now, I am more than willing to say that what came to mind for me in that moment was probably due to my very *rational* fear of TheAnswer!HJ, but ignore the fact that I am losing myself to his mind games and hear me out for a bit: I kid you not, for a second, I legit thought that he may suggest to or even outright attempt to like "mark" mc with the Sign.

In what way? I don't fucking know but there are many options and he is twisted enough to think of that, we all know it and the sirens were blaring in my head about that when he said the Sign would protect her as long as she had it in her, like "mc girl, I dread to say this but I feel like we should trust mr lapdog on this one, I fear you may be poking the modern day moses a bit too much and we all know he is having a diva moment today", because for hwa to be so concerned over it while hj reacts somewhat positively? Yeah, something wicked this way comes. And on that note, it seemed to me that hwa wasn't just trying to get her to steer from upsetting hj, he seems like he was trying to keep the peace between them in more ways than just that (more on that in a separate ask cause I feel like this is getting too long and its probably a pain for people to scroll past it LMAO I'M SO SORRY).

You clarified for me last time that mc will find out eventually about what happened to her bff (thank you by the way <33) and given how much it was brought up this chapter, I do think he is gonna wait out a while to use the haseul card (haseul girl you will always be remembered as the ride or die friend that you were, more on the die side but it's not your fault girlie, we love you), because while he is clearly prone to emotional outbursts, he is also smart as hell and just as cruel, we are yet to see him mess up big time just out of losing his cool (or maybe the consequences just haven't quite caught up to him just yet but I'd argue he is still ahead in that case), so I imagine that the threat of doing it is very much real but he will play it right for his own advantage.

The man is a diva but he is a cunning one, he more so seems to bring it up because he knows that the idea of devastating mc in that way is a threat in and of itself to everyone else that is also vying for her attention, which is 100/10 writing, author you are amazing (if the way that the fic is eating away at my brain wasn't clear indication of that).

I am also once again proud of our mc for *once again* poking holes in his little bible lore, yes bestie you are correct, wtf does it mean for a Guardian to kidnap someone? A question that I personally had when I read his explanation is: if the Guardians can kidnap people across dimensions then why tf can't the cult members or him, the big powerful prophet himself, also do something like that? Wouldn't that be way more helpful than sending uber eats across dimensions to the Others through sacrifices?? He says they need mc to do that but the Guardians have no issue going "yoink :3" over to our dimension to spirit away his followers and at the same time he also wants us to believe that the same Guardians are afraid of him? Sir. Pick a side, you can't have it both ways. Either they are clearly stronger than you and that's why we are all struggling with mc being a non believer or you are the op big shot of this religion whom everyone grovels under, make it make sense ! !

(Also this isn't me trying to point plot holes in your story pls lol I don't think his religion's lack of consistency is a reflection of your writing ever, in fact I think it's really cool cause it adds to the mystery of it all along with making us question him even more, I just have a lot of fun dissecting the snippets of it we do get out of spite for him lmao).

I have some more things I wanted to add but I'll throw them into another ask cause, again, I feel like this is already gonna be annoying to scroll past lmao, so sorry for anyone seeing this, apologies everyone.

But these were my general takes on the chapter, I really enjoyed it as always so thanks for another update Lauren <333 wish you well!!

- 👁👁

LKSJLFKJASDF OMG HI!!!! <33333

First of all let me just say that you will never annoy me w these comments like this is seriously my dream feedback i could cry honestly im so touched that you care so much to type all of this out and that you clearly spend so much time thinking about the answer and really appreciating it and like. YEAH ILY SM DO NOT WORRY !!!!! 

Fun fact about bee and me updating at the same time . we didnt plan it this time . it was in fact random . but there was a time in like… i wanna say december 2022 when bee was writing claire de lune and her and caly and i all conspired to update on the same day and im pretty sure we did and i cant even imagine what it wouldve been like to be a claire de lune/mists of celeste/the answer reader on that day LMFAO

ANYWAYS INTO THE MEAT AAAAAAAAAAA pls these reactions to hj are so real like sometimes ill write something a little bit too … cute ? and then ive gotta reel it back real quick we gotta remember who we’re talking about we gotta stay strong even if he is hot and obsessed 

TY for saying you felt that the chapter was still interesting hehe i guess i felt like people would be expecting a lot from this chapter and i knew it wasnt going to be What Was Expected or like that it wasnt going to go right into the escape attempt like i think some people probably thought SO im glad that the chapter was still … paranoia inducing LMFAO 

No fun fact idk if this is like obvious or not but my grandparents are/were corn farmers so like. Obvs i have spent a lot of time on a corn field. Planting harvesting running around etc. and i was always so freaked out by combine machines theyre literally fucking ENORMOUS like easily 15 feet tall but the good news is they go like. 10mph. But i still wouldnt want to find myself in the path of one AHAHAH !!!!!! ANYWAYS !!!!!!!!!!!!!

eheheheeh yeah the whole scene w the unholy trinity really …. Ooooooo was it fun to write hehe yes the whole situation w haseul is really a big opportunity for hj to keep manipulating mc and something for him to hold over her head and i hope the dramatic irony is coming through w the fact that we obvs know she’s dead but mc has no idea bc i lovvveeeeeee that tension in a story like just waiting and waiting and waiting for mc to find out … ehehe and i like how you point out that hj hasnt really messed up big time or lost his cool bc youre … right … but he’s almost almost getting there and i just love him being unhinged and ………… yeah ill be quiet now heh

UBER EATS SACRIFICES ACROSS DIMENSIONS SENT MEEEEEE LAKDJFL;ASKJDFL;KJA;DFKJ youre so real for these questions and like yes this is exactly the type of thing i want you to be thinking … hehehe keep yourself in mc’s shoes yk … i def get that you’re not trying to point out plot holes hehe dw dw thank you for your compliments hehe

I WILL ANSWER YOUR SECOND ASK NEXT !!! TYSM AGAIN I LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH MWAH i hope you are WELL !!! <3333

[chaozsilhouette]

A Father’s Love

Another piece for @winterpower98's Swap Au.

I don’t really have a time frame for this scene, but with all the horror MK has had to endure in this AU I couldn’t help myself. I just needed a bit of fluff to break up my writing. Plus, I am all for Tang showing just how much he loves MK and being a protective father figure.

The poor boy needs a break, but we all know it won’t last.

_____________________________

“Well now, aren’t you a stubborn human.” Sun Wukong mused as he took in the one who dared to separate him from his creation.

The ground was split in a dozen directions. Craters dotted the landscape. The scent of volatile magic soaked the air. Yet, in the center of all this was a small circle of undisturbed land where his boy and the human stood unharmed.

The human didn’t look particularly impressive. If he had to guess, somewhere in his early to late thirties. He was obviously healthy but still suffered from the weaknesses all humans share. No, what truly caught his attention was the strangest sensation he knew this human. Almost as if the golden fillet was readying itself by his mere presence.

The human’s talent in magic was nothing to scoff at. Admittedly, it was nothing he couldn’t brush off, but seeing a human wielding so much raw power was supposed to be nearly impossible in this modern age. However, defying the odds here one stood before him trying to keep him from one of his treasures.

He was not alone in his curiosity. The Monkey King watched as MK stared at the bespeckled man in utter surprise.

“Since when could you do that?!” The newly revealed monkie demon all but screeched.

“Not too long.” The scholar cryptically stated.

His annoyance at the lack of an answer freed Mk of his fear. Just enough to swallow his need to be supported during this horrible moment and say what needed to be said. “You’ve got to run! Forget about me and get the others to safety!”

“I’d listen to my son if I were you, human.” The tyrant stated with a cocky smirk. “Since he’s started to learn his lesson about where he belongs I can be generous. You can take all your friends back home to rest up and we can continue another day.”

With a trembling hand, MK desperately gripped Tang’s pant leg. Praying that his love would be translated behind his pathetic display. “Please. I can’t see you get hurt because of me.” They were the kindest people he ever had the pleasure of knowing. He couldn’t bear knowing they got hurt trying to save him. The only reason they were in this crisis was because of him. If he hadn’t been so weak...

If he didn’t allow himself to be used, Wukong would still be trapped.

“Mk, you know I can’t leave anyone behind to suffer this tyrant’s hospitality.” The word was hissed out with more venom than a viper pit. “Especially not after learning of Macaque’s past.” Tang adjusted his stance so his side now supported the youth. His fingers twitched randomly, his eyes remained locked onto the armored demon. “Besides, we both know Mei would gut the two of us if we even think of considering it.”

It made no sense. They were in the presence of a being that filled the nightmares of all, from the lowliest human to celestial kings, yet young simian couldn’t help but smile. “Good point.” Compared to the Monkey Tyrant the young dragon was an insect, but she had earned the fear that accompanied her ire.

“Such a touching display. But do you really think you will be able to give him what he needs? That others will accept who he really is? You can say you love him until the sun blows up, but it will never change the fact he is me.” The Monkey King’s smile showed nothing but cruel amusement, but his tail betrayed his fraying patience.

“Do you take me for a fool? It doesn’t matter what he looks like, where he came from, or how he started out. He is my Son! And I refuse to let anyone abuse his kind heart ever again!”

Two hands slammed into the ground with unnatural force. Mystic runes and circles filled the air as the battlefield was bathed in a gentle yellow light. Golden ropes wrapped around the Tyrant as the earth formed a five-sided fortress around him. Symbols were burned into each side, somehow not concealing the burning rage from Sun Wukong’s enraged expression.

With that done, Tang grabbed MK’s hand and ran knowing full well both their lives depended on it. “Come on! That won’t distract him for long.”

Or at all. They hadn’t cleared five meters before they started to rocks crumble and mystic bindings viciously snap.

Somehow the two of them were able to reunite with Macaque and Mei in order to get some much-needed distance without any major obstacles. It was silently agreed that the Moneky Tyrant had let them leave. Why? They didn’t want to think about it. All they could do was patch themselves up and think of a new plan.

_____________________________

Pigsy treated them all to a delicious meal, after yelling at the four of them for tangling with the Monkey King. About how they could have gotten killed and berating them for thinking about leaving them behind. Tang was certain Pigsy’s volume was the only reason Macaque looked uncomfortable.

That night they all stayed with Sandy. It was agreed that they should stick together until the heat dies down. Mei stepped out to call her parents to warn them about ... everything. While Macaque had essentially taken over as her father figure it didn’t mean her birth parents were no longer a target. Macaque aided Sandy in setting up the spare rooms. Piggy was just cleaning up dinner and preparing a few things for breakfast.

Leaving Tang to begin creating wards to hang around the boat and MK to uncomfortably sit as he stared at the scholar.

“Why did you do that?”

Tang pushed up his glasses, looking more grave than the teen ever recalled seeing.

“I was preparing that spell the moment I opened my mouth. I figured after that outburst it was only a matter of time before he got bored playing nice and when for the kill. Despite what movies would make you believe, talking is not a free action.” His precious disciples learned that lesson the hard way.

“No. I mean...when you said all that stuff, did you really mean it? You view me as a son?” MK could barely get the last word out. It felt like all of this was just a wonderful dream and when he awoke he’d be back on Flower Fruit Mountain.

Tang set down his brush to fully face the demon. “Of course, I mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” He poured his entire soul into that truth, a fact he was proud to scream to the heavens.

“Even when I look like this?” Sharing the same face of the demon who caused so much pain and suffering. He could barely stand it, but the thought of continuing to live in his human form just felt even more unbearable. He was tired of lies. Tired of being used.

“So you look like a demon monkey, big deal." Tang waved off the concern, regaining his trademark confident sass. "Last I checked, we are close with several demons one of which is a rather famous monkey. At your core, you are still the same MK we grew to know and care about. You may have started out as Wukong’s clone, but you have come a long way since then.”

Seeing that the boy was still unconvinced, Tang wrapped his arms around the child’s shoulders and brought him in for a hug. “You will always have a place with me, with any of us. You are loved and appreciated, Xiǎotiān. Never forget that.” Circles were slowly traced on his back as shaky breathing gradually evened out.

Xiǎotiān nuzzled his father’s neck. Taking in the scent of aged paper, ink, and tea. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course.” Gentle fingers slowly combed through his hair.

The world was falling into the depths of madness, but in this moment Xiǎotiān could deceive himself into believing everything would work out.

[kiki-shortsnout]

21. Listening to someone's heartbeat? From the intimacy prompts, With Loki/Tony, please? 💜

I could've written a whole story with this prompt! As it is I struggled to keep this near 2,000 words! Thank you for the prompt!

~~~~

Where is this place? What is this place? Loki asked himself for about the millionth time, glancing around the room and trying not to fidget on the hard-backed chair he was sat on. He stretched his neck from side to side, trying to relieve the irritating itch he felt from the collar chafing his neck.

He’d suffered through worse. He could endure this.

‘If looks could kill,’ Mobius mocked.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘Well, let’s start with a little cooperation.’

This man knew nothing about him, and Loki had already formulated a plan about how he was going to escape from here, possibly killing him in the process. However, that plan began to unravel the more they spoke, this TVA agent able to strip back every façade, every mask that Loki had constructed around himself.

Only one other person had been able to do that, strip Loki bare and see his vulnerable, true self beneath.

And that man was currently shining on the wall that was playing the movie of Loki’s life.

Loki didn’t react at seeing Anthony again, didn’t give away what they were to each other, feeling himself seethe as an image of them kissing after a battle was revealed.

His greatest secret.

‘A secret Avenger lover! How did you guys manage to hide that? I don’t know which is worse, a hero falling in love with the bad guy who murdered his people…’

Loki clenched his teeth, refusing to speak. It was no one’s business about how he and Anthony had gotten together, what drew them together in the first place. He knew what Mobius was trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work. He was going to escape, find the Tesseract, and convince Anthony for once and for all that they needed to leave their worlds behind.

‘Or the man who fell in love with the enemy, giving up his mission for glorious purpose because of a pair of pretty doe eyes.’

Pushing himself up and away from his chair, Loki paced the room, mind trying to think of a way out of this, to protect Anthony, find a way back to him while eliminating whatever threat this was to them both. If the TVA knew about the relationship, something Anthony had taken great pains to hide, then Loki needed to eliminate this threat.

‘What exactly is it that you want?’

‘I want you to be honest about why you do what you do,’ Mobius answered, still calm despite Loki’s growing agitation.

‘Liar!’ Loki called him out.

Even as Mobius gave a passionate speech back, something about wanting to understand him, Loki paid him no attention, gazing at the hideous orange panels on the wall, feeling the squeeze of the collar on his neck.

‘What makes Loki tick?’

The man reached out and tapped the orange ball on his desk, revealing more moments of Loki’s life, the invasion of New York, his shame, his weakness that he’d nearly harmed the one he…cared about in some misguided quest for glory, his true intentions warped by the Scepter.

He needed to get back to Anthony, to explain it hadn’t been him, that he had been beholden to some trick.

That he wasn’t the monster Anthony had needed to stop, led away by Thor in chains and a muzzle until an opportunity presented itself. Loki was forced to witness his shame again from an outsider’s perspective, the haze of blue in his eyes as he’d forced the Midgardians to bow before him.

Had Anthony known that wasn’t him, that he had been controlled? Why hadn’t Thor seen it?

‘I was... I am on the verge of acquiring everything I am owed, and when I do, it'll be because I did it. Not because it was supposed to happen, or because you or the Time Variance Authority, or whatever it is you call yourselves, allowed me to.’

That wasn’t quite the truth, what Loki truly wanted mingling with the aftereffects of the Mind Stone’s influence, his impatience to get back to Anthony and set things right overriding his rational mind.

Please don’t allow this to change your feelings for me. Please, beloved, please realize it was not me who acted.

‘Honestly, you're pathetic.’ Who was Loki speaking to, the TVA agent before him, or himself?

‘You're an irrelevance. A detour. A footnote to my ascent."

‘If you hadn't picked up the Tesseract, you would've been taken to a cell on Asgard.’

What sorcery is this?

‘What is this? This is nonsense, more tricks. This never even happened.’

‘Not to you, not yet. Look, the TVA doesn't just know your whole past, we know your whole life, how it's all meant to be. Think of it as comforting.’

All his thoughts, his arrogance, his plotting fled as he watched his mother die. For the first time in his life, he was speechless, his desperation making him babble.

‘Where is she?’

‘You lead them right to her,’ the man said, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

‘I don’t believe you. You’re lying. It’s not true.’

He couldn’t be responsible. This was a trick, it had to be a trick.

‘It is true. That's the proper flow of time and it happens again and again and again because it's supposed to, because it has to. The TVA makes sure of it.’

‘Where is she?’ Loki demanded.

What if they have Anthony locked up in his place too? What tricks are they playing on him?

‘Now why don't you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?’ The man asked again, his voice increasing in volume, making Loki feel as though his chest was being squeezed with overwhelming pressure.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Loki paced in agitation.

‘Do you enjoy killing?’

‘I'll kill you,’ the words were hollow, and they both knew it.

‘Like you did your mother? Like how you attempted to kill Thanos and left your lover alone to sacrifice himself?’

His rage that had been steadily building the whole conversation suddenly dissipated, leaving him lightheaded at the swing between the two emotions, a cold fear now scrabbling up his throat, chasing away the burn of his anger.

‘What happened to Anthony?’

‘Who?’

‘Anthony! Tony Stark! What happens to him?’

‘Does it matter? I mean I know he was your secret lover, but he was an Avenger, an obstacle in your-’

‘Tell me!’ Loki screamed, feeling the furious tears burning his eyes, the onslaught of his emotions frightening him.

He’d shown his hand, exposed his feelings for the two he cherished. Loki had known this would happen, that emotions would make him fragile, defenseless. Now he had no way of saving either and had given the TVA what they needed to blackmail him.

‘You care for him that much?’ All the bluster and posturing from Mobius was gone, a genuine curiosity in his face as he watched Loki.

‘I love him,’ Loki admitted, words he’d never uttered to anyone, not even Anthony. ‘Please, I know you have no reason to trust me, that I’m everything you say I am, but please, let me see what happens to him.’

Sighing, Mobius reached into his pocket and pulled out a separate tape, revealing he held it all along. ‘Here…he was a great man, your Tony Stark. I’ve watched how you interact with everyone around you, your enemies, and the ones you pretended not to care for… it was hard not to be moved by Tony Stark.’

Loki wasn’t listening, trying to fumble with the machine, almost snapping his teeth at Mobius when he reached over to take the recording from him and set it up in the machine. He watched the film, waiting for the moment where Anthony’s life had twinned with his own, when Thor had first been banished and Loki had faced the man of iron for the first time.

Their secret meetings Loki initiated because he’d been intrigued by this morally gray Midgardian, their first kiss, their first tumble into bed. Loki treasured those moments, and now they felt tainted with Mobius’s scrutiny, his gaze leaving grubby fingerprints over their memories.

There were other moments, a future Loki still had to discover. The moment Loki finally confessed his feelings, the heartbreak of betrayal Anthony felt from Captain America (Loki threw the chair across the room at that). He watched as the Hulk creature passed on news of Loki’s death, the way Anthony’s sorrow hardened and was reborn as fury, the catalyst for why he launched himself into space after Thanos’s minions.

And then the end, the blaze of glory, standing alone and proud against the Titan, his beautiful mind destroyed under the effects of the Infinity Stones. Loki couldn’t breathe, his chest trying to move in short sharp pants, his teeth gritted against the pain.

No. Not like this.

He couldn’t see past the agony, couldn’t keep his heart beating with the vile poison of the truth. He could feel a hand on his back, a voice trying to call to him.

‘Please, let me go to him,’

‘Loki, I can’t-’

‘Please. You’ve brought me here for a reason. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll do it without question. I won’t escape. I won’t betray you, whatever it is you want, but please…’ Loki trailed off, unable to speak past the emotions webbing in his throat.

‘In all my studies of you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you beg, not sincerely anyway.’

‘You know my…my love for him to be true, that I would not jest about this. Please, Mobius, you have my word, my vow, just please… let me see him.’

‘Ten minutes, that’s all you get. No messing around with the timeline, no giving cryptic warnings. You do anything to divert the timeline Stark is in and I’ll send in a team to prune him and the branch you’ve created, understand?’

Loki didn’t know what pruning meant, but he made an educated guess it had to do with those glow sticks the TVA agents wore and the way they disintegrated the people they stabbed them with.

Nodding, he offered up his hands in a silent plea, sniffing back the tears. Mobius reached out to clasp his hands for a moment, before pointing towards a glowing doorway in the room.

‘Ten minutes and then I’m pulling you out.’

Anthony was asleep in his bed when Loki stepped through, and he rushed over to his bedside, crashing down to his knees as a wounded sound spilt from his lips.

‘You foolish, idiotic mortal, what were you thinking!’ he hissed, the words barely forming sound, not wanting to wake Anthony up or inadvertently cause his destruction. ‘I knew your self-righteousness would be the end of you, that you’d sacrifice yourself in some heroic deed.’ Loki brushed Anthony’s bangs back, leaning forward to press their foreheads together, trying to keep his tears at bay.

He glanced around the room, recognizing it as Anthony’s house in Malibu, no sight of the Avenger Tower. This had to be before New York, before his carnage of Anthony’s homeworld.

‘Lo?’ Anthony suddenly whispered, voice thick with sleep, hands sliding from the bed covers to reach for him. ‘You said…busy…’ he yawned, not entirely awake.

‘I know, dear one, but I made time.’ Loki slid into the bed beside him, taking care to rearrange himself so he could curl around Anthony, protecting him while trying to keep him asleep. He rested his ear directly over the arc reactor, his hand on Anthony’s chest. He could hear the thrum of energy beneath his ear, felt reassured by its continuous sound, knowing it was keeping his mortal alive.

He could feel Anthony’s heartbeat under his palm, never as strong as he liked it, but reassuring enough that Tony was here and alive.

‘I’m sorry. By the Norns, Anthony I am sorry.’

Anthony shifted in his sleep, hugging Loki close and kissing the top of his head.

‘Bad dream, honey?’ he whispered, still sleepy, but trying to comfort him.

‘Something like that. Go back to sleep, darling,’ Loki soothed, hiding the pain in his voice.

He knew what he’d promised Mobius, and his promise to help him stood, but Loki knew he’d twist the intentions of his help to suit his own purposes. He’d find a way to meet these Time-Keepers and bend them to his will. He wasn’t going to lose Anthony to Thanos, would save him from his fate and be together like they deserved.

For now, Loki focused on the sound of his heartbeat, the reassurance he was alive, committing the sound to memory for the next eight minutes.

[falloutjay]

Stan x anxious/compassionate reader (kind of has a little canon divergence)

After giving up on Wendy (around Season 12), Stan and us start dating, we were always worried about him (no we weren't dating him out of pity, we were just a very anxious person). Some people find of clingy, others find us adorable but We've never left his side:

Ex: We were by his side helping with whales (Whale W)

We were the only one who didn't leave him when he got depression (You're Getting Old/Ass Burgers)

Next to Heidi, we became social pariah because we didn't want to dump Stan (this even made Wendy guilty)

But him moving, really gets to us, the coronavirus makes it worse. We get worried about him, then we start getting worried about everyone else as everything falls apart (Kyle, Kenny, Eric, Butters, Tweek, Craig, Scott, etc.) And we pass out of stress. About waking up in the hospital, we find out, everyone was worried about us. And Stan is the most worried of all, he spends the whole day with us. We tal-no vent about all the happened to the both of us. By the end of it, we agree that whatever happens we'll do it together.

Guess whos back! :D

Well, while it's not my best work, in my humble opinion, I sure hope you enjoy and like it. Again sorry for the delay! ಥ_ಥ

And if it's not that clear, because I know I can write a little cryptic, there is a time skip. You can either have all the show events happen when they are children and have the time skip between Covid and the memories or between you getting together as kids and the memories. Choose however you like! ^^

_________________________________________

Stan x anxious!compassionate!Reader

Tiny eyes watched the scene unfold.

Normally, Wendy was the one to break up with Stan, but not this time around. Stan was actually telling Wendy that he had no interest in her anymore.

“What changed Stan?” Wendy asked, obviously confused.

“I think I like someone else… I don’t know yet…”

Wendy gave him a smile.

“I wish you all the luck Stan, say if you need anything!”

“I will.” And with that, Wendy took off to be with her friends, while Stan turned a corner and told Kyle and Kenny how it went.

Cartman was there too, but he only wanted to know if she cried, because “she would deserve it.”.

You closed your locker and felt your heartbeat like crazy. Ever since you changed school a few months ago, Stan captured your little ten-year-old mind.

He was kind and showed you around when you had no idea where to go. It was a little crush you developed, and you never felt as scared and excited as now, since that Stan had broken off with Wendy.

This newfound feeling almost made you dizzy but you quickly snapped back into reality when you heard your name.

“Y/N?” Stan asked and waited patiently for his answer next to you.

“Oh, sorry, I was thinking, what did you want?”

“Would you maybe like to hang out some time?”

Stan almost got a heart attack when you suddenly squealed but was happy when you managed to get a high-pitched “YES!” out.

“Okay, what are you betting Kenny? Some Pennies or a dead rat?” Cartman almost fell from his chair laughing about his shitty joke, while Kyle and Kenny rolled their eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how clingy they are?” Kyle asked his blonde friend, while they kept watching you and Stan, who were seated at a separate table at lunch.

“Honestly, I think it’s pretty cute.” Kenny said with his muffled voice.

You held his arm and hugged him from the side, while he happy kept on eating his lunch.

Eric, who had now calmed down from his laugh attack eyed the couple critically. “I’m giving them a month max.”

He said lazily and looked around. “I say longer than a year.” Kenny said, throwing a crinkled five-dollar note on the table.

“You two are horrible.” Kyle shook his head before he threw 10 dollars on the table.

“Four months.”

Kenny was a happy man after a year, because despite everyone believing you two would eventually break up, you never did.

You were always by his side, no matter what.

His desire to desperately save whales with the help of a braindead ship crew?

You were always right by his in the interviews he gave.

His horrible depression that even drove Kyle away? No chance, you stood strong and helped him through the whole thing and even help reuniting the gang.

Even during the protest against Skanthunt42, you chose to sit this one out, despite you absolutely hating that the troll photoshopped a dick into your mother’s mouth.

At least you and Heidi got close due to you guys both becoming social outcasts. When Wendy heard this, she was impressed by your dedication and felt somewhat guilty for obviously not trying as much in her former relationship.

Everyone admired your patience and endurance. No matter what obstacle came, you managed to get through it.

“You don’t need to be sad, Y/N. I won't be that far away.” Stan said, holding your hand.

“B-But it's outside of town. You need ages by bike to get there and vice versa.” You said, holding back tears.

Randy walked past you and you desperately pleaded to him.

“Please Mister Marsh, please stay in town!” Randy put the box he carried into the car, before turning to you.

“Real sorry, dear Y/N. This town is…How do I put it… Absolute shit and I really want to get away.”

He patted you on the head and went back into the house to get more boxes.

“Told you, you cant talk to him.” Stan said and shrugged.

“But it’s unfair. We won’t see each other as much anymore.” Stan pressed a kiss onto your cheek, which made you blush intensely.

“Don’t. Worry. I will make time for you.”

With that in mind, you didn’t feel as sad, when the car with the Marsh Family in it left for their new home.

“I will make time for you, my ass.” You mumbled while you sat at a bench near Starks Pond. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back and just enjoyed the warmth of the setting sun.

Covid was one hell of a bitch and just had to have this big impact on everyone’s life. Stan and you now saw each other less and less.

It was just a horrible feeling that tainted your heart and made you worry a lot.

Maybe he was feeling just as bad as you are, maybe even more?

Maybe he just didn’t want to tell you how he felt?

Were you maybe a bad partner? Your mind began racing and your train of thoughts became unrailed.

So many bad thoughts manifested themselves and it made you almost gasp for air.

“I need to check on him.” You mumbled getting up from the park bench.

You began walking and you kind of hoped that maybe just the walking would get your mind in check, but sadly it didn’t. Involuntarily you had to think about all the other stuff that happened during this horrible time.

The precious Broship was more fragile than ever. You had become such good friends with Kenny, Kyle and Cartman over time that it hurt you a lot too.

You also saw Covid take a toll on your other friends, like Craig and his group, who now took Cartman into their gang after the split up.

However, that came to be…

The girls were also pretty divided, so hanging out with them meant picking sides which wasn’t your thing, you kinda just want them to get along again.

Everything felt like it was falling apart. Your parents had fights ever so often, all your friends had problems and your beloved boyfriend was stuck on that stupid farm.

God how you hated that stupid farm and Randy.

When he gave you one of those plushies that looked like him, you functioned it into a voodoo doll. But sadly, it didn’t seem to affect him, no matter how many needles you rammed into it.

Your heart felt heavy, and it seemed hard to breathe, but you brushed it aside.

You had already reached the busy streets of South Park and mingled between the newly vaccinated people.

Everywhere you looked, the people seemed happy.

Everyone was happy except you and the people around you… Maybe…You were the problem?

You shook your head. No, you didn’t allow those kinds of thoughts.

You much rather think about Stan. How you miss him and how amazing your dates were.

Oh, how much effort he put into all the small things… Well… At least he did.

Now that you thought about it when was your last date?

It feels like it had been ages. It has been ages. Everything had been ages. Going out with him, hanging out with your friends, your family not fighting… How long has this been the new normal? You can’t help but wonder.

Your heart clenched again. “Stop it, stupid heart.” You mumbled under your breath.

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips when you thought about how you maybe had to walk all the way up to the farm… It would take ages, but you really craved being held by the person you adored so much.

So, you continued walking down through the street when an elder lady stopped you.

“Excuse me, but you look rather sickly, are you alright?” Confused you raised an eyebrow. Did the vaccines make them delusional?

“No, I’m fine.” You answered, somewhat snippy, even when you didn’t know why you were so agitated.

“But you look rather pale, maybe you- I am fine.” You interrupted her and continued your path.

Were all people in this shitty town stupid or- The thought could not be completed, due to you suddenly losing consciousness.

When you woke up again, you immediately recognized one of the Hells Pass Hospital rooms, once your eyes had adjusted to the bright lights. Around the bed were your parents and more importantly Stan and his mother.

“Thank God, you’re awake again!” Your mother said when she went for a hug.

Confused you asked why you were here.

“Well, seemingly you were so stressed out, that your body basically shut down.”

Somewhat shocked you looked around. Was it really a surprise to hear that? Not really, but it still felt odd knowing that it happened.

“Well, I’m glad you’re fine, Y/N.” Misses Marsh commented and smiled warmly at you. She had always liked you and you felt the same. She was always nice to you and you felt like she was the only one with a brain in the family…

Feeling a sudden sensation of warmness on your hand, your eyes darted down to it. Stan held you hand while answering something your dad had asked him.

“Well, Sharon, you wanna accompany us to get some hot chocolate for us all?”

Your mother said with an odd wink, which made you and Stan roll your eyes.

The three adults left the room chatting happily. Stan looked at you with a stern expression, which kind of surprised you.

“I swear, whenever I think I couldn’t get more worried about you, your parents call me, to tell me that you’re in the hospital.”

“Worried? About me? I should be worried about you?” You laughed to which Stan shook his head.

“Listen, everyone has been super worried about you since you seemed so down and just exhausted. Like, Kyle already called me earlier to ask if you’re awake again. I don’t know why you worry about me; I am really fine babe. Promise.”

With that said, the door opened, and your parents came back inside.

“Y/N, the doctor said they would like you to stay the night, so they can check that you’re really alright.” Your father informed you and you were immediately annoyed.

Well, you had no choice but to oblige. Your parents left after an hour, wanting to get you some clothes and other things you’d need.

Sharon also bids her goodbye and so you and Stan were left.

And just like you wished, you got to cuddle with him. He held you close, and you vented to him, how worried you were about everything and everyone, while he told you just how worried all of your friends had been since you were acting so out of character.

“Even Cartman?”

“Yup, even when he would never admit it.” Stan laughed. He held your hand tight, and his content smile never left his face.

“I think we should talk more about feelings and being worried and all that. I know I’m not all that good at it, but I don’t ever wanna have to visit you in a hospital again.” Stan said, giving your hand a squeeze.

“That sounds good. But you gotta accept, I worry a lot, because I care a lot about you, okay?” You said sternly and Stan nodded. You two looked fondly at each other and just enjoyed the time you got.

“Together forever?” You asked and he whispered “Forever.”, before he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips.

[jisungsmochi]

can we dance? - mark lee

mark’s instalment of my series! i personally enjoyed writing this one a lot! 

word count: 2.3k 

series masterlist 

summary: “i know i don’t know you, but i’d like to skip the small talk and romance”

while attending his very first college party, mark has a little too much to drink and starts dancing with the random girl sitting at the bottom of the stairs. he didn’t need to know you just yet. when he pulled you close to him, you didn’t feel like you were dancing with a stranger. but rather someone who could steal your heart in a minute.

//

mark wasn’t the type to get wasted at all. but something about attending his first college party had him ecstatic. he felt a little tipsy as he roamed the halls of whichever frat house the party was held at. he couldn’t walk straight, bumping into multiple people who only shoved him away from them. he eventually took a seat at the bottom of the staircase, watching people walk in and out of the front door. he barely noticed the girl sitting right next to him.

you had your head leaning against the wall, trying to drown out the music blasting through the house. mark slowly shuffled away from you, leaving a small gap between you both. you raised your eyebrow once you felt movement next to you. you recognised his face immediately, he was the cute guy in your orientation group at the start of the semester.

“are you alright there?” you decide to spark up a conversation with the tipsy boy. mark just nodded, finding the words to say back to you, but his head was pounding.

“y-yes, i just need to sober up a bit” he giggled at himself, causing you to crack a smile at his adorable antics.

“understandable” you nod along, unsure of how to continue the conversation. the reason you remembered mark so well, was due to his constant asking of questions during the orientation. although others in your group were slightly annoyed, wanting to carry on with the campus tour, mark lee couldn’t stop his glimmering gaze of the features the campus had to offer. you found it quite endearing how he was filled with so much curiosity. but you didn’t have much courage to approach him that day, which you regretted instantly.

“you wanna dance?” mark suddenly snaps you out of your thoughts. you furrowed your eyebrows at him, watching as his smile came into view. he was adorable.

“uh i’m not much of a dancer” you shook your head, trying to deny his offer as politely as you could. but mark was stubborn, he came to have fun and he was determined to dance with the pretty girl at the bottom of the staircase.

“come on, don’t be a party pooper” he started teasing, moving closer to you, dragging you to stand up with him. as much as you wanted to remain seated, you allowed the brown haired boy, to pull you up. he let your hands linger near his shoulders, finding the physical affection quite comforting.

“okay, one dance” you held up your index finger, mark responding in a nod as he pulled you along to where everyone else was dancing. you felt nervous stepping into such a big crowd, but mark had an aura around him where you felt comfortable.

“just focus on me” he smiled widely, taking your hands in his as you both started grooving to the music. your dance moves were a little rusty, consisting of gentle swaying and some light bounces to the beat. mark on the other hand, was a very enthusiastic dancer. he was jumping up and down, screaming the lyrics from the top of his lungs, causing you to giggle. he never really let go of your hands, always finding a way back to them if you both lost contact somehow. it made your cheeks heat up quickly, but you would try and blame it on the alcohol.

suddenly, you felt mark pull you by your waist, slowly grooving to the current song that was playing. you felt your breath hitch for a split second, feeling how close he was to you. in that moment, everything stopped. all you could focus on was how gorgeous mark lee looked and how he embraced you so smoothly. as you looked into his eyes, everything felt at ease. what was happening?

mark started getting tired after the fourth or fifth song, signalling he was going to grab some water. you agreed to wait for him near the stairs again, taking some time to yourself.

“so i see you’ve met mark lee” haechan, a boy from your monday morning lecture, approached you with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“o-oh yeah, we just met” you quickly responded, unsure of how close the two boys were.

“you just met yet you were dancing all up on him? dang girl, you’re boldddd” haechan teased, lightly tapping your shoulder. you couldn’t hide how shy you were by his words,

“t-there’s nothing going on. he doesn’t even know me properly” you shook your head.

“please, i have like a sixth sense, i can sense when love is in the air” the blonde boy started babbling, slowly losing your attention.

“you’re gonna fall for him” haechan finishes, sending you a wink before moving off to chat with other party goers. what a strange guy...

“hey, how’s it going?” mark greeted you once again, taking a small sip of water.

“i’m great, kind of tired though. might head back to my dorm soon” you informed him, looking around to see if you had misplaced any of your belongings. mark wanted to stop you from leaving, but he was unsure of how to bring it up. he had just met you, he didn’t know your name, he barely knew you at all. but something inside him was telling him to stop you.

“n-no, stay” he blurred out, gently wrapped your wrist. you looked down at his hand, raising an eyebrow at his sudden actions. mark lightly coughed before slowly pulling his hand away from you.

“i-i mean, i’m tired too. i’ll walk you back to your dorm, it’s pretty dark out there” mark tried to save himself, shooting you a small grin. you couldn’t help but copy his expression, gently nodding at his offer.

“i’d like that” mark let out a sigh of relief, following your lead as you started the short walk to your dorm. you purposefully walked slower than usual, noticing how mark would try and match your pace. he truly was a saint.

“i-i just realised i didn’t quite catch your name back there” mark suddenly reminded you, making you internally face palm yourself. how did you never mention your own name?

“oh i’m y/n, and you’re mark lee” you watched as his head shot up at the mention of his name.

“h-how do you kno-“

“we were at orientation together. you were wearing a dark green hoodie and could not stop asking questions” you lightly chuckled at the memory, causing mark to reminisce on his own.

“ah, i recognise you now. you were bucket hat girl” he couldn’t stop smiling for some reason. you didn’t want to question him, but you, yourself, couldn’t contain how happy you were that he remembered you.

“i guess we both noticed eachother” you stated, a warm feeling now forming in your stomach.

“oh but tonight is just the beginning” mark smirked, moving to stand infront of you as he continued walking backwards. you were confused as to what he was doing, but you were too caught up in his words to even question it.

“the beginning of what, may i ask?” you slightly shake your head, pointing to the entrance of your dorm, signalling mark to halt in the middle of the pavement.

“not sure, but it’s definitely the start of something” he cryptically responded, walking alongside you to your dorm room. you faced mark, not wanting to say goodbye.

“i had a lot of fun tonight, mark. i actually forgot how fun parties were, the workload has really weighed me down” you started rambling, assuming he had zoned out but mark lee was stringing along to your every word.

“i totally get it. i’m not usually the type to get drunk or dance with strangers. but i’m glad i got to meet you” he avoided your gaze, feeling his cheeks start to heat up.

“did you want to come in?” you suddenly offered, causing mark to shoot his head up to face you. were you really inviting him into your room? just wait until haechan catches wind of this.

“w-would that be okay?” the clueless boy muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“yes, mark. that’s why i’m opening the door right now to let you in. so you coming or what?” you playfully teased, opening your door. mark followed your gesture, cautiously stepping into your dorm room as you closed the door behind him. your quickly turned the lights on, moving to place bag on your bed.

“your room is really cute” mark intended to whisper to himself but luckily you heard him.

“thankyou, it’s still a work in progress” you offer him a bottle of water as you both sit at the end of your bed.

“so mark, i have to ask, do you have a girlfriend?” you smirked at your own words, watching as the boy shot his eyes up at you.

“w-what? n-no i don’t, do you?” he stuttered, your eyebrows raising at him.

“i mean, do you have a boyfriend?” he repeated more calmly, taking a long sip of water.

“no i don’t” you simply respond, eyes locked on the boy at the end of your bed. the tension in the room just shifted.

“cool...that’s cool” was all he managed to say.

“you’re a weird kid, mark lee” you shake your head, laying down on your bed, feeling your eyes flutter. mark just stared at you, slowly getting up before pulling your blanket over your body. he softly patted down the bumps, making sure you were securely tucked in. you felt a smile rise to your face, mumbling a quiet, ‘thank you’ to the boy. mark just nodded, packing up his belongings before making his way to your door.

“before you go, let’s hang out tomorrow” you call out to him, watching as he turned on his feet to face you one again.

“i- yes yes. have a nice sleep” he stammered, turning the doorknob before rushing out of your dorm room in lightning speed.

‘god mark, could you be any more awkward?’

//

there was one flaw to your plan to see mark the next day, you didn’t ask for his number, nor were you in contact with his friends. you woke up to a slight headache, which luckily was relieved by taking a pain killer. you scrolled through your phone, desperately trying to find mark on any platform you could. and just like that, it was like god had sent you a message. and by god, you mean lee haechan.

haechan: mark keeps asking about you, here’s his number. thank me later by bringing me a coffee next class ;)

you hurriedly called the number, ignoring the requests from your classmate. mark picked up immediately, which came as a surprise to you.

“h-hey” he spoke first, feeling giddy you bothered to call him back.

“hey, sorry i forgot to ask for your number. my mind was just preoccupied” you started rambling, brushing through your hair as you put him on speaker.

“it’s fine really. did you want to grab some brunch?” he immediately got to the point, making you freeze momentarily.

“yeah sure” you nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see you.

“cool, i’ll meet you at your dorm room, we can walk together” he offered, you heard shuffling from his side.

“thanks mark, see you soon!” before you were about to hang up, you heard a loud voice screen,

“markie is going on a date!” you instantly knew it was haechan’s. mark abruptly hung up the call, not bidding you a goodbye. you shook your head in amusement before getting ready.

as promised, mark was at your door in a prompt manner, smiling softly as you greeted him with a slight hug. mark felt stiff, but you pushed it aside, walking alongside him to the local cafe spot on campus. mark was surprisingly good at small conversation, rambling on about all sorts of things that came to his head. you couldn’t help but adore how his eyes were constantly glistening, he looked like he found beauty in almost everything. mark really wanted to impress you for this date, offering to hold your cardigan when it was getting a bit sunny and buying you ice cream while you sat on the park bench.

“how’s your hangover?” mark chuckled, mind drifting to the night before. you looked away from him slightly, feeling embarrassed.

“it’s all cured with some ice cream and great company” you cheekily commented, watching as mark’s mouth fell agape.

“i see i see” was all he managed to say back. you sat in silence for a while, admiring the scenery infront of you. you felt mark shift closer to you, arm now reaching over your shoulders. you allowed him to pull your body into his side, leaning your head on his shoulder lightly. it felt quite natural, being in mark’s presence. despite only knowing him for less than twenty four hours, you’d say you were very interested in mark lee.

“we should head back to our dorms now, i mean, unless you wanted to keep hanging out. oh god why am i so lame? i’m not even drunk? i’m just stupid. oh my god” mark started mumbling pulling his arm off your shoulder. you raised an eyebrow at the stressed boy, pulling him by his collar, before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. that surely shut him up. mark’s eyes widened at the touch of your lips on his, hands completely frozen.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, mark” you smirked, walking away from the flustered boy, who barely let out any farewell to you.

maybe mark did talk a lot of shit when he was drinking. but you left him speechless for once in his life. who would have thought one dance, would change everything.

[trashscenariihxh]

Chrollo x fem!Reader Hatesex

Another commission!  Warning: very dubcon.

“You don’t scare me.” You smirked at him over the rim of your glass. “I could take you.”

Chrollo cocked an amused eyebrow. “Do you think so? Really?”

“Sure.” You drained your glass and regarded him with hazy eyes. “Any time, any place, pretty boy.” You licked your lips, emboldened by alcohol.

He chuckled at your brazenness. “If you say so, _____.” His eyes flickered to your now-empty glass. “And how do you propose to do that after all that you’ve had to drink?”

You stretched, rose from your chair and slunk over to him to climb into his lap. “Let me show you.”

***

You hadn’t seen Chrollo in a few months. Par for the course, really. At the entrance to your apartment, you wiped your feet to remove any dried leaves or mud as you fumbled around in your purse for your keys. You cursed under your breath at the dimness of the hall’s lighting as your fingers finally closed around your key.

The key clicked in the lock, the doorknob turned, and you entered the dark apartment. It was a lot later than you would usually arrive home; you were eager to shower, fix yourself some tea (or perhaps something stronger) and fall into bed.

You were reaching blindly for the lightswitch when an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand clapped over your mouth. You struggled, desperate to twist out of your assailant’s grasp. Blood pounded in your temples as you wriggled, mentally fighting away the unforgiving fact of the matter: whoever this was, they were much, much stronger than you were. Their grip was like iron. A scream was about to tear itself from your throat, but a harshly whispered threat killed it before it could escape.

“Scream, and you die.”

Your blood ran cold as the words shot straight through your chest. A certain, unplaceable familiarity about the voice was beginning to tug at your insides. Could it be? No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Chrollo?”

The name, a mere whisper in the dark, was muffled by the intruder’s hand. Whether or not the attacker heard, you couldn’t be sure. Just as you were about to ask again, everything went black.

***

You opened your eyes to a dimly lit, unfurnished, unfamiliar room and an ache in your arms. Groaning, you tried to stretch but found that you couldn’t move; your arms were tied. Your stomach lurched at the realization. In the corner of the room, a dark shadow caught your eye. “Who the fuck are you?” you spat, all self-preservation instinct replaced by rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you—”

A laugh, light, airy, and all too familiar filled the room.

“Don’t you recognize me, ______?” Chrollo stepped forward, the dim yellow light illuminating his pale face. “I’m surprised- I was sure you knew… but I suppose that was just a hopeful guess.” He cocked his head, smiling at you with a softness that did not match the current situation.

“Chrollo… untie me now.”

He laughed. “What’s the matter? Can’t get yourself out?” He leaned in closer. “I thought you could take me. Any time, any place, you said. If I recall correctly.”

“Fuck you Chrollo, this isn’t funny. You scared me.” Your voice shook, overcome by a mixture of relief, terror, and rage. “Chrollo, please, untie me.”

“Very well.” Disappointment flashed over Chrollo’s face as he complied. He leaned forward as he began to untie your bindings and let his lips ghost over your jugular.

“What’s the hold up?” you asked, impatient.

“Fear smells good on you.” Chrollo pressed his lips to your neck as he finished untying you, effortlessly catching your wrist when you made to punch him. “I’m afraid that won’t work, Darling,” he murmured, lightly sucking at your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, seething; regardless, you tilted your head to the side to allow him better access.

Chrollo’s mouth curved into a smile against your neck. “Calling your bluff.”

A rueful bark of laughter erupted from you as you finally pieced everything together. “Was your ego really that bruised?”

“Perhaps.” Chrollo tightened his grip on your wrist as he bore down on you, pressing you to the floor. “You might not know this about me, ______, but I don’t enjoy being challenged by those who can’t back themselves up, and if I have to fuck that habit out of you, so be it.” He hiked up your skirt and ripped your underwear down.

As excited by the situation as you were becoming, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes in the darkness. Only Chrollo could be so verbose while having a raging erection. Said erection was pressing insistently at your thigh; you wondered if he’d been edging himself throughout the whole kidnapping. Chrollo shifted above you, and you instinctively spread your legs to better accommodate him. It struck you then that you were making things far too easy for him; you were being too compliant, too obedient. No, that wouldn’t do. If Chrollo had wanted a challenge, a challenge he would get.

“Fuck you!” You spat in his face the second you felt his cock nudge against your entrance and rocked your hips to jostle him away.

Chrollo recoiled, confused, but only for a moment. An instant later he was on you again, gathering your wrists in his hand and pinning them both to the floor as he lined himself up again.

“You’re trying my patience,” he gritted out, sliding the head of his cock into your surprisingly wet cunt. “Stop pretending you’re not enjoying this.”

“I’m not,” you deadpanned, trying and failing to break his grip.

“This says differently,” he replied, bottoming out in one sharp thrust.

You cursed, thrashing from side to side hoping to break his balance. When Chrollo leaned in to kiss you, you snarled and bit his lip.

“Bitch,” he swore, his refined mask slipping as he began to pound into you with hard, deep, uneven thrusts.

Fuck, that was good. Your back scraped against the floor as Chrollo fucked into you; you wanted to fight him some more, and yet… having him on top of you like this, flushed with exertion, his lip bloody, compelled you to wrap your legs around his slender waist and draw him in.

Chrollo seemed to sense your sudden change in demeanor, because he relaxed his grip on your wrists. Moments later, you were digging your fingers into his back, clinging to his shirt, marveling at just how muscular he was.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” Chrollo panted in your ear. The smoothness had vanished from his voice, instead replaced by a deep hoarseness reserved only for moments of intense exertion. “Like a slut on the dirty floor?”

You hated to admit it, but you did. You couldn’t tell him that, though, so you bit his shoulder. “I can barely feel it,” you taunted, digging your heels into his ass cheeks to spur him on. “Christ, Chrollo, are you even hard right now?”

A deep growl rumbled in Chrollo’s chest as he quickened his thrusts and sank his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn’t respond, not verbally anyway, but you could tell he was livid. You continued.

“Is this what gets you off now, huh? Kidnapping people weaker than you and—ah!” Chrollo’s cock had hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Fucking them?”

“Keep talking.” Chrollo began to lap at where he had bitten you. “See where it gets you.”

Who were you to deny that order?

“Pathetic,” you sneered, allowing him to kiss you before continuing. “I can’t believe—”

You were cut off by a sudden jolt as his cock bumped against your cervix. “Sh-shit.”

Chrollo chuckled infuriatingly, his calmness having returned. He drew back, continuing to thrust as he reached a hand between your bodies to rub at your clitoris.

It really amazed you, just how quickly you came. No sooner had Chrollo begun stroking your clit than you were cumming, spasming and clenching around his cock. Your cheeks burned with shame at your body’s betrayal of your own dignity, at just how easy it had been for Chrollo to get you off.

Chrollo smirked down at you, rocking back and sitting on his heels. He seized your hips and pulled you with him, changing the angle of his thrusts. He clearly wasn’t interested in prolonging things; his breathing soon became erratic, as did his thrusts; he released into you with a deep, soft groan.

You cursed at the dimness of the room, and at Chrollo’s preference for fucking while clothed. You would have loved to have had a better view of his face and body in that moment. He stilled, panting, his fingers digging painfully into your hips as he looked wide-eyed down at you. For a moment you thought he was going to pull out, straighten himself out and leave, but instead he collapsed forward. You huffed under the sudden weight.

“Chrollo…”

He was kissing you again, his lips pressing reverently against the bruises he’s sucked into your neck and the angry wound where he’d broken the skin. “Are you all right?” he asked, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

“I’m fine,” you replied, not quite sure if you actually were. Your clothes certainly weren’t. You grimaced at the thought of what the hard, unpolished granite floor had done to them.

“But are you really?” Chrollo stroked your hair for a moment before pulling back to kiss you deeply; it was the first non-anger-filled kiss of the encounter. “Perhaps I was a bit… overzealous.” He shifted his weight, rolling off of you and onto his side. His fingertips brushed against your wrists, softly tracing over the blossoming bruises. “You bruise easily.”

“Obviously.” You yawned, suddenly exhausted. “Chrollo… where are we?”

He hummed. “Somewhere you’ve never been to before.”

Ah, so here came the cryptic bullshit again. “I know that, Chrollo, but seriously. Where are we?”

“We’re still in the city.”

“Are we close to my apartment?”

“Not particularly.”

You huffed. “Well, does this place have a bed? And more importantly, a bath?”

“It does.”

“If you take me to it, I’ll consider forgiving you.”

***

You had to admit, when he was being contrite, Chrollo really knew how to treat you well. He’d drawn you a bath, filled it with sweet-smelling salts and even sweeter bubbles. He’d even washed your back, a gesture which you greatly appreciated, considering how scraped up and bruised it had become after your earlier encounter.

Later, after you finished washing and drying yourself and slipped between the bedsheets of the large, enticingly comfortable looking bed, Chrollo joined you. You were about to complain about how he’d never taken you to this place before, but he silenced you with a featherlight kiss.

You weren’t sure how he was able to do it, but he managed to undress both of you in a matter of moments before lazily rolling atop you, peppering your face, neck and breasts with soft wet kisses. You moaned when he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking at it with his tongue.

This time, there was no resistance when he sank into you, no sudden jolts of pain mixed with pleasure. There was only warmth and a feeling of impossible closeness. Chrollo’s mouth skated along your neck, worship each bruise he’d put there as his hips lazily rolled forward to meet yours.

It didn’t take long for either of you to finish; Chrollo came first, spilling deep inside you with a gasp. You followed soon after, crying out when Chrollo’s mouth latched onto your breast again.

The two of you fell asleep, or at least, you did, enveloped in his warm and comforting embrace.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Chapter 2

Characters - Reader, Ransom Drysdale, assorted OCs 

Word count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language, sexual content

A/N - Hope you enjoy the next installment of my Ransom series. Still setting things up in the chapter, but we’re moving along. For a while, there will be a good amount of heavy drinking and the questionable choices that go along with that, just FYI. Remember this is fiction and the acts are not recommended. They will also be acknowledged later if you are concerned. 

Feedback is wonderful, & if you notice any errors please let me know!

Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Chapter 1

You order drinks plus shots. 

“To another fucking week,” you salute with Whitney. It burns, and it’s sweet, and you just want it to act fast.

“Yeah, another one.” She grabs hers, salutes, and tosses it back back. She cringes for a few seconds, but once she recovers, she picks right up with half of a conversation you weren’t having. “So, are you gonna take someone home tonight?”

“You’re more worried about my sex life than your own.” You shake your head at her.

“After what that asshole did to you, you deserve all the good fucking. I’m just trying to find a good dick to help you forget.”

“Wow, that’s sweet in a weird way.” You shake your head again, but smile this time.

“Well, it’s true. I also don’t want to feel bad if I ditch you later for my own fuck buddy.” She wiggles her eyebrows like a cartoon villain. At least she’s giving you a warning this time and not just disappearing on you later.

“Jesus, Whit. Yeah okay.” You can’t help but laugh with her. “It’s just,” you survey the group around you, “You never really know what you’re gonna find at the end of the night.”

“Uhhh, yeah. That’s what having a one-night stand is...Oh hi.” She offers a dazzling smile to a cute guy pushing next to her at the bar.

You wait a few seconds for her attention to return before you mutter, “I am well aware.”

“So pick a partner and do-si-do. Come on, cowgirl,” she nudges you, nodding to the guy in the fraying straw hat next to you. Nothing seems to deter her.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you giggle. 

She smiles and shrugs. A few minutes pass as she looks you over, studying you.

“You’re being weird about this.”

“I know.” You nibble on the straw in your glass for a moment before getting to where your mind’s been stuck for hours. “So hey, that guy we hung out with? Ransom?”

“No.” She shakes her head hard from side to side, a slightly manic giggle coming out between the repeated, “No, no. No.”

“What?” you try to sound casual, indifferent, but she knows you too well. “I just want to know what his deal is.”

“You don’t,” she insists, shaking her head.

“Why? Did you sleep with him?” 

“No, I haven’t.” She pauses for a moment, you can see she’s actually thinking over her answer. “He’s just gonna get what he wants from you and push you away.”

“You do realize that’s exactly what you’ve been telling me to do? So I should screw someone, but not him...because that’s what he does?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, are he and Michelle a thing? I don’t want any extra relationship drama.”

“Psshh, yeah, god knows you’ve had enough of that.” She stares off into the middle distance before shaking her head and focusing again. “No, they’re not together either, but please? Please? Just promise me you’re not interested in Ransom.”

“Okay, but why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really think you’re his type.” She lets the words hang, and you’re unsure how to interpret them until you finally settle on hurt. You physically recoil a bit when the sting of her words hits.

“Wow, ouch. What the hell does that mean?” You look down into your lap, looking yourself over really quickly and not finding anything major sticking out.

“I just don’t see it. Trust me, and tell me you’re not being serious with this.” 

Even with her strange and kind of harsh reaction, you can’t get rid of the swooping feeling you get in your stomach just thinking about him. So, you try to purse your lips to control the uncomfortable smile trying to break through. You want to assure your friend, but can’t lie to her either...at least not well. 

“I’m totally not,” you finally say with an awkward laugh behind it. Again, failing miserably to play off nonchalance. 

She sees it all and knows you’re full of shit. “No one will have any respect for you if you fuck around with him.” She says, matter-of-factly.

Where this is all coming from, you have no idea.

“You’re being mean and cryptic and I don’t like it. I’m not even saying that anything’s going to happen, but that sounds a little extreme, Whit. Come on,” you whine.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not. Just find someone and ask him to buy you a drink. Look around, you can pick anyone, but I am not enabling you and Ransom,” she quickly adds.

You try to lighten the mood by teasing her about having standards, but can’t find much ground to stand on when she brings The Ex into the discussion. She’s really on a roll tonight and pulling no punches. It’s not what you wanted or needed from the night. You came out with a mission to have fun, so you take a deep breath and decide to be the bigger person.

“Hey Whit?”

She keeps her eyes on the bar in front of her, letting you know she’s still somewhat annoyed at you. “Yesss?”

“This week sucked. Let’s get trashed.” You sling your arms around her shoulders and shake her until she laughs with you. Her party-friend is back in action.

“Fuck. Yes.”

You struggle to go along with Whitney’s plan for your night, especially when the Cowboy and just about every other guy she pushes your way fail to keep your interest. Not that you’d never had a one-night stand, but just that lately they’d been pretty awful experiences and you wondered far too often lately what a life of celibacy would look like. It’s much easier to dismiss the guys and remember that at least your vibrator can get the job done.

Before last call you give in and you text Jeff. Yes, the Jeff with whiskey dick who left you high and dry last time as Whitney reminds you with a giggle. He sounds genuinely happy to hear from you again and promises to make up for last time which makes it seem worth it to give him another shot. He’s tall, fit, with long fingers and if you remember correctly, a decent enough dick.

He manages to stay hard this time around, and he takes his time feeling you up, but the two of you can’t find a rhythm that works. You finally bat his hand away and rub yourself off while he pumps sloppily into you. Afterward, he leans in for a kiss and you turn away to give him your cheek. Getting dressed, you give him a few non-committal answers when he asks about seeing you again, and at the end of it all, you’re most grateful that you didn’t take him to your place. 

You spread out alone in your own bed and think over Whitney’s words.

Whitney knows more than a few of your dirty secrets; the friendship between you two had blossomed quickly with your guard easily let down. She never really judged you, at least not openly, which left you swirling in doubt for days, obsessing over what would probably end up being nothing. 

What made you not his type - looks? Money? Another woman? She never really had a filter, but she was being so short on the topic of Ransom which made you think even harder, rooting through some more recent bad memories.

“Am I a bad person?” you ask Carrie during the week.

“What? No!”

You accept her answer with a nod, silently thinking.

“I wonder if I should just take a break.” When Carrie looks at you funny, you clarify, “Like, maybe I am finding these losers because I am not all that great myself? These guys are all just…”

“Babe, you’re meeting them at bars...with Whitney.”

You heave in a deep sigh, “I know. And she’s not that bad.” A humorless laugh escapes. “Maybe I am aiming too high or something?”

“There’s no such thing.” You see her shoulders shift, fire in her eyes and protective mode activated like she’s done a few times in staff meetings. “What happened?” she asks.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Whitney laughs when you tell her you’re thinking of taking a break.

“Was Jeff that bad? I thought you said he was good with his fingers.”

You look around, even if Whitney has forgotten she’s in public, you haven’t. No one else reacts though, thankfully.

“You’re such a bitch,” you sigh. She fakes offense which you ignore. “No, he wasn’t that bad, I just want to find a nice guy. I don’t know.”

Her already buzzed gaze moves somewhere over your shoulder, “Oh whoa, stop that thought. There’s a guy behind you that looks like he wants to bend you over right here. So,” she drags out, “How about we see how that goes and forget about Jeff, and nice for a while.”

She adjusts her own posture, subtly popping up her tits and tilting her chin down to offer him and enticing smile.

‘Jeff isn’t the problem,’ you think to yourself, but she’s already moving forward with her plan for your night. You toss back the shot she places in front of you and turn to check him out.

It’s not happening, even as tipsy as you currently are, this guy with the ironic mullet hovering next to you and trying to get handsy is not getting into your pants. You know it, Whitney knows it (even if she continues to flirt with his friend), hell - the people in the space station know it… but Mullet Guy is oblivious. It’s embarrassing. 

You sit there with your hands over half of your face, wishing he’d leave you alone, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you see a familiar pretty face surrounded by blonde hair.

“Do you need some help?” Michelle asks, eyeing the guy next to you.

You’re surprised she even recognized you, let alone approached you, but you’re desperate to take the help where you can get it. “Oh my god, yes.” 

She gives you a knowing grin, “You’ll find some of us in the corner booth in the back.”

“You sure?” you ask, still thrown off by the interaction and nearly stumbling off the bar stool. “What about Whitney?” 

“I’ll get her,” She gives you a little nudge. 

You slip past the guy hopelessly hitting on you, mumbling and hoping he doesn’t follow and head down the aisle alongside the bar until you reach the large, corner booth. A few faces look familiar, but when he looks up you consider turning back. Judging by his smirk, there’s no chance of that happening.

You raise your voice to be heard over the noise of the bar, “Um, Michelle sent me over,” your nerves turning it into a question rather than a statement.

Ransom raises an eyebrow like he’s about to ask a question, but nudges the people next to him to make them get up and make room for you.

“Oh, no that’s...I’ll just sit on the end.” You try to politely wave them off, but they’re already up.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” he invites you, arm thrown over the back of the seat and your heart beats double-time with just how much you want it wrapped around you. The two people who vacated their spots shift impatiently and you clumsily sit down and start to scoot over under your knee bumps into his, making you immediately stop and apologize.

“You here all alone?” he asks, swirling his drink, the ring on his pinky finger flashing in the light.

“Nah,” Michelle reappears and speaks up for you as she sets down a few glasses onto the table, “Whitney’s here, but she’s got some company. This lucky lady,” she points to you and continues with a light laugh in her voice, “Was just looking miserable with some idiot not taking a hint.”

“You should’ve just told him to fuck off.” Ransom says.

You look over the crowd, finding Mullet Guy waiting for you back at your seat. His eyes droopy from the liquor and Whitney swaying with his companion. 

“I know, I just don’t like doing that. Plus, uh, I think Whitney is trying to fuck his friend.”

“So leave her. She’s a big girl and can handle herself.”

After that he continues the conversation he was having with the others before you arrived, and once again, you sit there silently watching. 

If you can call anyone the leader in the group, it is Ransom. Watching the way the other guys at the table defer to him and how he responds to what they say makes it obvious. He knows it too, practically sitting here holding court at the big square booth. 

The conversation isn’t all that interesting, at least not to you. Some kind of pissing contest the guys are having involving some sports stats. Every now and again you hear them say something so blatantly wrong, but you don’t know them well enough to correct them. With the underhanded comments and passive aggressive insults, you can’t help but wonder if any of them are actually friends. Eventually, your attention wanders over the rest of the bar patrons.

“Am I keeping you from something?” Ransom startles you with how close he is, body still but eyes roaming. You suck in a deep breath, smelling the alcohol and his cologne which makes your mouth water.

“N-no, sorry,” you struggle to come up with an excuse for zoning out, “Just looking for Whitney.”

He tips his head, “She’s right where you left her.” You follow his line of sight, finding her easily. 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

The way his face goes impassive unsettles you, like it was the wrong answer. “We’re boring you. That’s alright. Let’s talk about you.”

“Not much that you’d be interested in, I think.” Whitney’s assertion that you’re not his type replays in your head

“I don’t know about that. I have a lot of interests.” He stares at you with this look on his face, like he’s listening to something funny, but his eyes are serious. It’s intimidating when combined with the way he’s lounged so comfortably next to you, taking up the space like he owns it and yours. His tone, and the little tickle from his fingers against your shoulder feels like flirting, and now your inner voice begs you to remember how to fucking flirt. ‘For the love of god, shake off the nerves and flirt with this gorgeous creature.’ You take a deep breath and try to sink into it.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, setting your elbow on the table and propping your face on your palm while you turn even further toward him.

One side of his face lifts almost into a smile. He starts with a few basic questions, finding out you’re not from the city, how long you’ve been around. He ignores what you ask in return, continuing with his rapid-fire questioning.

“How do you know that little brat?” he asks with a tiny flick in the direction of the bar.

“Whitney?” you chuckle and he nods, “Friend of a friend; she practically became attached at my hip once we started going out together.”

“A quiet little mouse like you and her? Really?”

“I promise you, I’m not always so quiet,” you challenge.

“See, now that is interesting. Think I’d like to see that,” he answers, eyes giving you a quick up-down in your seat.

In the seconds it takes for you to process that he is indeed flirting and you need to respond, the moment is broken by a high-pitched voice.

“There you are! You fucking ditched me.” Whitney practically howls at you. You feel like a child who got caught out after curfew as you see her eyes move between you and Ransom. “What’s happening here?”

The alcohol has settled enough to remove some of your tension. With that and her overdramatic reaction, trying to control the urge to giggle at being caught is impossible, so you bite down on your lips to keep the grin from your face. “Nothing,” you answer, poorly faking innocence.

Ransom’s eyes stay on you, you can feel it, but he talks to your friend, “We were just getting to know each other better.” He turns to look at her, “Sit down with us,” his tone almost sounding like an order.

“Getting to know each other?” she asks you pointedly. 

You can’t understand what her problem is with him, especially since he’s her friend. At this point, you’re too intrigued. It’s not like there’s any point in trying to deny that you’re attracted to him with half your body leaning into him like he’s a magnet, but for some reason you think you see real disappointment in her eyes. Biting your lip, you take a peek at him to find him waiting for your response; he’s already smug with the attention.

“Yeah.” 

“What about your break?” she spits out.

You feel too many people looking at you, but you can’t answer, too shocked that she’s put you on the spot like this.

“Remember?” she asks like you’re forgetful, “You’re taking a break because you’re looking for a nice guy.” She over-enunciates as she stares daggers at Ransom.

“Why don’t you get the stick out of your ass, Whitney. I’ve been nice all night, haven’t I sweetheart?” The hostility between the two makes your back go rigid, anxious for the moment to end and the spotlight to be directed anywhere else.

“I’m fine,” you tell her as firmly as you can.

She shakes her head at you, but sits down anyway, jumping right into flirty conversation with Eric who is sitting at the end of the booth, notably there without the girl from the other weekend.

“Hmm,” Ransom hums right against your ear, making your skin tingle. “I think someone just got in trouble.” He’s clearly amused and not sounding remorseful at all.

He makes a move then. It’s slight, but you feel him tuck you a little further under his arm. Part of you is glad Whitney is distracted, but the other part wants her to notice it and realize she might be wrong.

“I…yeah,” you stumble over your words, confused and flustered between the two of them. Chest tight and pulling in short breaths and stomach swooping with excitement, you internally scream, begging for him to make it worth it.

[littleoddwriter]

So in the comics, Sionis's skull mask is actually NOT a mask and the result of him cutting off his face. What about a story where Roman entrusts with Zsaz with disfiguring him?

Perfection | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

1) Anon, please, you need to tell me what comic you saw/read this in, because I've read pretty much all of the ones Roman is in and it's always a mask (he's called Black Mask for a reason after all). It's usually just fused with his face because it was burned to it.

So, I'm genuinely just curious in which comic book version he cut his face off, because I'm not aware of it, fjdhfjkskfsl. And I need to read it. Please, dhjgsdjfhsf.

2) This turned more into a character study, whoops. I hope it's still to your liking anyway. Thank you so much for the request, it was super interesting and it totally got out of hand again... (cue no one being surprised).

I hope you enjoy! :)

summary; see above.

notes; TW / CW // Dissociation; Delusion; Psychosis; Visual Hallucination; Murder; Violence; Blood; Cutting; Disfiguration; Scars; Identity Death. That should be everything important.

A/N: Also, Roman suffers from BPD, like always in my Fics, so that's where this is all coming from, as I headcanon that it started out as the general symptom of having a distorted sense of self, and developed into a delusion, and then he suffered a psychotic break with hallucinations and such, resulting in his disfiguration.

[And remember that psychosis is a very serious thing and that I'm not using it lightly here. Psychotic people suffer. They're not bad people for having psychosis. They deserve love and respect. Don't use it against people, don't disrespect them with it and do not under any circumstances use it as a synonym for evil. Thanks.]

Everybody knew just how much Sionis cared about his perfect looks. Always, at any time, he had to look and be presentable, and he had to be perfect doing it. His parents had drilled it into him from an early age on, not caring much about anything about him, other than his appearance. He was one of the faces of Janus Corp after all. He had to be perfect in order to make the cosmetics sell better.

Still, when Roman looked in the mirror he couldn’t recognise himself. It was as though he was staring at a stranger. He painted his face and took great care of it; always making sure it looked immaculate. It didn’t help the disconnection he felt from it, though.

Sometimes it only made it worse, because really – he was just putting on a mask, wasn’t he? He made himself look absolutely perfect, so that others couldn’t possibly see what was underneath the surface.

He was a cruel and sadistic man, one with many issues, and a crime boss behind his businessman persona. That was all him, but it also wasn’t.

No, this cruel man was Black Mask.

The persona he’s made up to make a name of himself in Gotham’s underbelly. That was who he really was. Not Roman Beauvais Sionis. No, that man was just a mask that his parents had constructed and that he’s kept up all his life in a desperate attempt to gain approval and respect.

But every single day, one more crack appeared on this mask, and another piece broke off on worse days. Soon, none of this ‘Roman Sionis’ would be left.

He could feel it.

He could see it.

When he looked in the mirror, all he could see then was this broken mask, an empty shell, waiting to fully break apart and let the inside rear its ugly head to its fullest.

Some days even, he would sit in front of his vanity and look at himself for a while, seeing the way he cracked and broke apart slowly, but surely, how his skin was crawling with the feeling of it. It made him itch. He desperately needed to get it off.

So far he hasn’t dared to do it, though. He couldn’t make himself take a knife and just carve into this fleshy mask.

He hated the way he hesitated every time.

This mask didn’t mean anything.

It was just an unnecessary hurdle he had to overcome to be who he really was, to the fullest.

He’s already made a good progress of realising himself with the Black Mask, but it was just there to hide his perfect exterior, to seem more malicious, to protect his precious skin.

That particular night, he’s worn his Black Mask and had gotten into a nasty fight with some other criminals. While Zsasz and his other goons were usually so good at keeping him out of it, this time wasn’t so.

Victor had been busy fighting off three men at once – and really, Roman admired the way he’s overpowered them after all, soaked in their blood, three new tallies on his skin. It was magnificent. Zsasz was so gorgeous to him. He knew who he was; he had no qualms about whether or not he looked perfect. He wore each tally as though it was a medal – and in a way, Roman guessed it was. Sionis envied him – this freedom Zsasz had that he so desperately wanted.

Black Mask had been attacked by two men of his rival. He had tried shooting them, but one of them managed to knock his revolver out of his hand. It was okay, he wasn’t entirely incompetent when it came to hand-to-hand combat after all. Still, that didn’t mean he liked it.

During the fight, he’s taken some punches to the face, which was fine; the mask saved him of some of the damage. But then one of the muscles took it off his head, leaving him vulnerable. He hated it. It enraged him. His rage caught on fire, bursting into roaring flames. He went to beat them up with more fervour. He didn’t care anymore. He just wanted them dead.

And he did kill them, after one of them had swung a knife at him, slashing his left cheek. He wrestled it out of the guy’s hand and stabbed them both in the neck, watching with cold eyes as they bled out right in front of him.

The turmoil around him and Victor had started dying down by then. Eventually, they were able to go back home, death and victory hanging fresh in the air, excitement buzzing under their skin. And for that one night, Roman hadn’t even cared that there was a cut on his otherwise immaculate face, or that it would most likely heal into a nasty scar.

Of course, that hadn’t lasted very long.

The next morning, he had started crying because of it, too upset over his ruined skin, the evidence that his mask was slowly but surely breaking apart. He couldn’t stand it.

When the cut had healed, though, and it was merely a pink scar, and not as ugly as he had expected, it was easy to cover it up with make-up. He did that for a while, until he seemed to have reached his breaking point.

Roman has just gone through his usual nightly routine, which always took way too fucking long anyway for the fact that he’d never look as perfect as he wanted – no, not wanted – felt like he had to. And like so often, he just sat there in front of his vanity and looked at himself, staring at his face.

Was it really his face? He just couldn’t tell.

Was that really what he looked like? He didn’t feel like it.

It was just all wrong, so far away, not him.

No, that was underneath.

Everything important was only skin deep.

Or was it?

What if everything important was under the skin?

What if skin was nothing but a fucking hindrance?

What if perfection was nothing but an illusion? He was sure that it was.

Perfection didn’t exist.

Nothing and no one was perfect. He should know. While his parents tried to appear as though they were above everyone else, they really weren’t. They struggled with the fact that the Wayne’s were above them financially, but also as humans. Roman’s parents haven’t ever felt human to him at all. All affection was nothing but a lie, all ‘perfect and happy family’ was nothing but a show.

So no, perfection didn’t exist.

Then why did he even bother conforming to something that was only a construct anyway?

No more, though.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, it had become distorted. That wasn’t unusual for him. It happened a lot, especially as of late. He saw the crumbling mask that was his supposed face. Pieces broke off, starting by the scar on his left cheek. Those pieces were falling away, revealing only darkness. It was as though one was breaking a porcelain doll’s face in. Hollow inside. But that wasn’t what he was. He wasn’t hollow. His true self just needed a little help to come out.

“Zsasz!” he shouted for his partner.

It felt far away, as though someone else had shouted it, someone that wasn’t him. But then again, this wasn’t who he really was anyway.

“Boss?” Zsasz came into his dressing room.

He didn’t take his eyes off the mirror, looking at Victor through that.

“I need you to help me with something. You’re the only one I trust to do it right,” he stated, holding up the carving knife Zsasz usually used to peel off faces and slit throats on his command.

Victor looked at the knife and then back at him, looking confused. “D’you need me to kill someone?” he asked, unsurprisingly.

“No- well, technically yes, but not really,” he answered cryptically.

“Uh, sure, alright. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it, boss.” Zsasz was always so fucking loyal and obedient. It was truly lovely. That was exactly why he trusted him with it – and because Victor’s knife skills were definitely superior to his own.

“Good boy,” he purred and let Zsasz take the knife from him. “I need you to ruin this,” he continued, gesturing his hand around his face in circles to let Victor know exactly what he was talking about.

“Your face?” He nodded. “Are you sure, Roman?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed angrily, “And fucking do as I say! Ruin my face. I trust you to do it right and not have this body end up dead. ‘Kay?”

He didn’t know if Zsasz understood what he was on about, although it was so very clear to him, he couldn’t fathom the possibility of someone like Victor Zsasz not getting it.

“Alright, sure. Whatever you want,” Victor murmured then, “I need you to turn around, though. I can’t reach you well like this.”

Nodding, he turned around in his seat, facing Victor, who stood beside him on his right. “Go on then.” He twirled his hand, index finger up, for emphasis, like he always would.

In a way, he felt giddy with excitement, although some underlying anxiety lingered beneath it all. It would be okay, though. He was certain of it.

This was right.

This was what was supposed to happen.

Zsasz took a deep, steadying breath. Then he pressed the blade’s point against his right cheek. For a moment he didn’t do anything else, looking him over, giving him an exit to all of this. But he was so absolutely certain of himself in that moment; he wasn’t going to back out.

Not this time.

“Do it, Victor,” he ordered with a steady voice, conviction clear in it.

Nodding, Zsasz put pressure on the knife and pressed the tip into his skin, drawing a three inch line down his cheek with it. He didn’t react to the pain. He couldn’t feel it. He was so disconnected from it all.

Zsasz continued to slice into his face’s skin, making bigger and smaller cuts, all deep enough to scar, just like he did for his tallies. Blood was oozing out of them, running down his face, his chin, falling on his precious pyjamas – those with his face on it. It was alright, though. He wouldn’t need them after this anymore, anyway.

Eventually, Victor stopped cutting. “Is that enough, boss?” he asked.

He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. He’d have to wear bandages over his face for a good while, that was for sure. It was worth it, though, because now it was perfectly ruined – disfigured.

Roman Beauvais Sionis was no more.

Due to the blood all over his face and running over his lips, he could only nod a little. He didn’t dare talk just yet.

Then Zsasz cleaned up all the cuts and bandaged them, making sure it was all safe and secure for the night.

While his face was slowly healing, Zsasz had inquired why he’d asked him to do it in the first place. He explained it to him and Victor understood – just like he knew he would. That was exactly why they were so strong together; why they had been meant for each other; why there was never a question about whether or not their relationship had been a good idea.

No one but Victor Zsasz could understand him. And no one but him could understand Victor.

When he was able to leave the bandages behind, Victor ran his fingers over the would-be scars. His eyes reflected the admiration and wonder he must have felt. It delighted him. He knew it had been right.

“Thanks for trusting me with it, by the way,” Victor had murmured that night as they lay in bed.

“Of course. No one else could have ever done what you have,” he replied, kissing his partner, “Thank you for not refusing to do it,” he added, his lips brushing against Zsasz’s as he talked.

“Anything for you, boss. Told you so.”

“I know. Still, saying something doesn’t always have to mean anything. Only actions truly say what words can’t.”

“Yeah, I s’ppose you’re right.”

It was just so easy to be with Zsasz. He couldn’t have possibly asked for someone better at his side.

The next morning, he looked in the mirror without any kind of bandaging and for the very first time in his life, he felt a connection to his mirrored image. He could finally see himself.

Now when he wore his Black Mask it wasn’t to hide, or to protect – no, it was only to symbolise his true self, put emphasis on it. He had nothing to hide anymore.

Perhaps perfection existed after all. Just not in the ways that society believed in.

He realised that, when he stared at himself in the mirror, in awe.

“Perfect,” Black Mask whispered, stroking his fingers over the scabs on his face.

And he truly was perfect.

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

New York au is so 🥺🥺 any thoughts on how leatin tells the other girls they got together??

Hello Anon! Thanks for your message <3

I’m spending way too much time thinking about this new york au but it IS fun, and that’s what writing fics is all about, ultimately. 

So the thing is, the island never happened in new york au. Which means the girls don’t all know each other, because I can’t really think of a satisfactory explanation as to why Dot, Shelby, Martha and Toni would move to NYC after high school. At least not yet! BUT you know who’s already in NYC? Nora and Rachel. So here: have Leah and Nora, the morning after the infamous party.

When Leah opens the door to her dorm room at 7AM, bleary-eyed, hair disheveled, still in her dress from the night before, Nora is already up and sitting at her desk, drinking coffee, wearing the kind of loose, colorful, comfy clothes she favors for studying.

“Morning, Leah,” she says without raising her head from the textbook she’s reading. Leah closes the door behind her, quietly, and hangs her purse on the hook. The blinds are open, and early sunlight is pouring through their window, minuscule particles of dust dancing in the light,

“Hey,” Leah says. Her voice is hoarse, and that makes Nora turn her head towards her at last, lips twitching into one of her half-smiles, knowing but devoid of judgment. 

“How was your night?”

“Oh, hm, y’know, fine,” Leah says, eloquently. She clears her throat, and leans her back against the closed door, facing her roommate. Nora swivels her chair around, looks her up and down. 

“You should carry a stake next time” she says, very seriously. 

Leah, befuddled, and way too sleep-deprived for Nora’s cryptic shit, only blinks tiredly. “A what?”

“You know, for vampires.”

“I don’t follow.”

Nora grins, and touches her own neck. “You’re covered in hickeys, Leah.”

“Fuck off,” Leah mumbles, but she feels herself blush, cheeks and neck burning, and Nora chuckles. Since the battle to keep her dignity intact is already clearly lost, Leah chucks off her shoes by the door, and lets herself fall gracelessly onto her bed, face first. “Nora, my legs are so sore,” she whines into her pillow. 

“So you had a really good time, is what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Hm hm.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

Leah rolls onto her back, and yawns. “A couple hours.” She turns her head aside, so she can send Nora a pitiful look. “Can I have some of your coffee?”

“I’ll trade you caffeine for information,” Nora replies, ruthlessly.

“You drive a hard bargain, but fine,” Leah says, rubbing her eyes. She sits up against her pillow as Nora rolls her chair closer to the bed to hand her the cup.

“Please,” Nora says, with a little shake of the head, “I know you’re dying to tell me.”

Which is not untrue. Leah has been dying to talk to someone, anyone, ever since she left Fatin’s dorm room, a good thirty minutes ago. Part of her can’t quite believe any of it actually happened. Another part of her wants to relive every second of the night, every moment that led to her waking up, naked, in Fatin’s bed, with an equally naked Fatin pressed against her back, and the taste of Fatin still on her lips. And a third part of her is absolutely terrified, unsure of what will happen next. Because here’s the thing: about six months ago, Fatin and her agreed to move in together for the summer, instead of going back to the Bay. And now, it’s April, and they’ve already signed the lease for a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, and she just fucked Fatin Jadmani.  

So, yes, she wants to tell Nora about it. She needs to talk to a friend, period. But also, she’s glad it’s Nora, specifically, because ever since she’s met her, in freshman year, Nora has proven herself to be both a great listener, and someone whose opinion Leah should trust.

So Leah swallows a mouthful of coffee - hot, dark, wonderfully invigorating - and, cradling the cup in her hands, she says, “I had sex with Fatin.”

“Oh,” Nora says. Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Leah says. “She invited me to this party, and then we… it just happened. It felt right.” She takes another sip of coffee, and sighs. “Fuck. Nora, what did I do?”

“Well, you haven’t shared any details yet, but I can make a few educated guesses, involving various body parts...”

“I’m serious! Fatin is a friend - one of my best friends - and this -- fuck, what if this ruins us? We’re supposed to be living together in less than a month! I don’t even know what she wants, or how she feels about it. She had an early rehearsal this morning, so I had to leave before we could talk. What if it’s super awkward between us, now? What if she doesn’t want to see me, and we have to avoid each other all summer? What if --”

“Leah,” Nora cuts her off, firm but gentle. “Take a breath.” 

She does, and then she drinks a bit more coffee, and lets the warmth of it calm her down. “What if she regrets it?” she asks, quietly.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Leah says. She meets Nora’s eyes. “Not at all. It was great.”

“So you want it to happen again?”

“Yeah,” she admits. She drops her eyes to the cup, and swallows. “Nora, I think I’m.. I have…”

“You want more than sex,” Nora states, calmly. She’s smiling when Leah looks up in surprise. “You’ve had a little bit of a crush on her for a while, now.” She shrugs. “I’m very perceptive, I’ve been told. By you, among others.”

“Pretty sure I used the word annoying, but okay,” Leah grumbles. 

Nora, in retaliation, steals back her cup of coffee, unmoved by Leah’s sad little whimper at the loss of hot beverage. She shifts in her chair, both feet on the seat, knees bent. “You should probably tell her how you feel.”

“I know.”

“In fact, I think you should probably text her, right now, and ask if you can see her after rehearsal, because you two should talk.”

Leah flops back onto the bed, and closes her eyes. “I don’t know, Nora. Isn’t it, like, too much, or whatever? I don’t wanna seem too desperate. Or too clingy. Or any of those other things people think about girls who text immediately after sex.” 

“That’s dumb, and a terrible excuse,” Nora retorts, serenely. “And you know it. Text her.”

Leah opens one eye for the single purpose of glaring at Nora. “Okay, who died and made you the expert in like, handling the delicate and potentially very bad consequences of fucking your friend and soon-to-be roommate?”

“No one. But I do have significantly more experience than you in the romance department. No offense,” Nora adds, with, honestly, just a smidge of offense. “I have, after all, had a boyfriend for more than two years now.”

Leah, defeated, sits up. “Can I at least take a shower before I have to be humiliatingly vulnerable over texts?”

“Shower, then text, then you should probably take a nap. And try not to snore too much, I’m working on my physics paper, and I have to focus.”

“I don’t snore!” Leah says, indignant, as she grabs a towel from her side of the dorm room.

“Hmmm.”

Rolling her eyes, Leah heads for the showers, but not before dropping a grateful kiss on Nora’s cheek. 

[bluecatstory]

The fortunate one - Chapter 2

The continuation & end to this. Thank you for reading! 

Boy met a tea kettle genie. Unfortunately, this wish-granting genie did not get to grant a single wish. This is an AU 100% based on Neil Gaiman’s The October Tale. Also, the main pairing here is GoYuu (Gojo Satoru/Itadori Yuuji), so please click back if you don’t like it. 

---

It was a lovely day for a stroll through the town. The weather was cool but fair, and green leaves flurried on the trees as the gentle breeze blew by.  

People were out and about, scurrying with their life. But if you pay attention to the crowd, you would see a strange pair. A pink-haired boy was walking together with a tall, lanky man. The handsome man was still young, maybe in his 20s, but his hair was white from the roots. His outfit even made it stick out more, all black with sunglasses. 

They were having a somewhat lively conversation. 

“So tell me more about yourself, Yuuji. I want to get to know you more.” 

“What do you want to know?”

“Your likes, dislikes, dreams, family, just anything!” Gojo grinned playfully. His current master of the tea kettle, by far, was the most intriguing. He wanted to know what kind of person was Yuuji Itadori, who claimed to be perfectly content with his life. 

And Yuuji, like the honest boy he was, told Gojo of his family: his parents passed away in a car accident when he was just a toddler, how his gramps raised him by himself, and he also passed away recently, having left him the house. Yuuji told him about his job: how he was a kindergarten teacher who had gained his reputation among the school for cat drawings. He told him he also taught basic drawing at the local community once a week. 

“Ah, but have you ever wished to be more than that? With your physique, you would make a great athlete. Or model! I mean, look at those legs.”

Red crept up his face. Yuuji smiled sheepishly. 

“Thanks… I guess. But you know, I admit there were tough times. Imagine one accidentally smuggled candies in the class, and the whole 20 would go bonkers. And the parents would just scream at you for everything. But I’m making a difference in the kids’ life. Witnessing them discovering things and eagerly telling you about them. It’s rewarding, and I feel happy every day going to work. “

Yuuji’s smile was so beaming that Gojo felt blinded by it. Ok, so scratch work. He might need to dig into other areas. 

“Now it’s your turn, Mr. Cryptic genie. Tell me more about yourself.” 

“Hmm, you only need to know that I’m the strongest genie that can make your wish come true. Hey, we’re here! Can we buy some cheesecake? I’ll carry the groceries for you.” Gojo pointed to the cakes on the shelves and dashed away, leaving Yuuji standing confused at the door. 

Yuuji snickered at the childlike man. 

--- 

“How about friends? Lovers? You have one?”

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m talking to a police officer who’s doing a yearly census, not a 1000-year-old genie with a desperate need to please people.” Yuuji sighed as he unpacked his grocers in the fridge. 

“Excuse me, I’m only 966. And I ask because it’s my job. Kids these days…” The genie wiped the invisible tears from his eyes. 

“Ok, ok. Don’t cry.” Yuuji lightly patted his head. Being with the genie for a while, he realized Gojo had a dramatic side to him that sought attention. 

He told Gojo that no, he was not dating anyone now. His best friends were Megumi and Nobara. That they had stood with him since high school, through good and bad times. That Megumi was a grumpy yet caring dog whisperer with 2 adorable, fluffy, smart dogs. That Nobara was a strong-willed woman working her way through the modeling world. And they always made time to catch up on the weekend despite a hectic schedule. 

“Hmm, I see.” Gojo said thoughtfully. There were really no holes in Yuuji’s life to be fulfilled by wishes. Except one. 

“You know, I can see that your life is good. But you are missing someone to share that life with you. Wish, and you’ll get the perfect woman. Or man.“

“No need. I’m good.”

“Are you?” 

“Yes. I’ve got everything I need.” Yuuji patted the genie’s head lightly as an assurance. 

“So what do I do now?” 

Yuuji thought for a moment. Then he pointed to the garden. 

“Can you help me tend the plants?”

“Sure! Is it your wish?” Gojo said excitedly. 

“Nah. Something you can help while I make dinner.”

So Gojo tended the plants. Then, after dinner, he helped Yuuji wash the dishes. The list of things Gojo helped Yuuji gradually grew. He ran errands for him, picking up sweets and office supplies for the school. He helped Yuuji planned surprises for his class, joining his local art class as an assistant. And sometimes, when Yuuji was tired, he gave him an excellent massage with his big, strong hands. 

It was not that Yuuji wanted help. But he let Gojo help. 

As time passed, Gojo moved out of the spare bedroom and ended up in Yuuji’s bed. 

---

They were lying on the bed, hands holding each other. Gojo silently watched Yuuji as the sunlight crept on his youthful face, aligning his parted lips. As Gojo was gently brushing a strain of hair away, his lover opened his eyes, and he smiled at him. 

“Mhh…morning.”

“Morning to you, too.” The genie smiled back, lovingly. 

Yuuji stared at him just as he was in a trance. 

“Your eyes… so pretty.” His bright smile struck Gojo, time and time again. Yes, this was the sight he wanted to see every day. His beloved Yuuji wrapped up in his arms, smiling and looking at him and him only. 

“Is this why you always wear blindfolds or sunglasses?”

“Well, a genie would say that because his magical eyes can see everything, so covering them up is a way for him to not know too much. But I would say that those baby blues are only reserved for you.” 

The pink-haired boy’s laugh got muffled by Gojo’s sudden kiss. 

“Hey, I’m wondering… What if it was you who were granted 3 wishes? What would you wish for?” 

Gojo thought for a moment.

“Nah, I’m good.” He told Yuuji. “I’ve got everything I need.” 

---

Gojo was perplexed when he met Yuuji. The boy was weird in every aspect, genetically pink haired with tiger markings, refusing his granted 3 wishes, and insisting his life was enough. For almost 1000 years as a genie, he knew people would always want something. 

Gojo was not a benevolent being. As he appeared before the boy, the genie thought he would just grant him 3 wishes and take his life in return, just like his predecessors. Those greedy, low-life scums would just scream and beg him to spare them. But what was done was done. Oh, how he reveled in their blood and shrieking soul. That was why he got sealed in the fucking tea kettle. Killing too much, the gods said. 

The genie chuckled. 

But Yuuji, his beloved, his eternal sunshine, was different from them. From wanting to know more about him, he started to fall for the boy. His fluffy hair that never seemed to be tamed, his bright, bright smile that made Gojo’s chest hurt, his well-built body that he could not stop planting more kisses on every inch of it, and how he did everything with much passion. 

Gojo loved everything about Yuuji. And now, with him in his arms, he would not let him go. No matter what.

End.

[haro-whumps]

Hey how do you think that would be a reverse version of GW? Like, instead of Galo getting the whumpees, the seven of them somehow, through a legal technicality, get a Galo that was Bethany's slave?How donyou think they'd all be, in this situation?

I would like to clarify that Galo and Bethany are NOT related in this version.

--

"... an old paramour," Greyson stated, hedging an explanation. Bethany had been, well, significantly too old for him, at the time. But he'd liked that.

Even so, he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to disclose his past questionable relationships with his housemates.

"And what did she leave you, exactly?" Evan asked, wearing his joggers and leaning against the doorframe, Lilah dressed similarly and walking past him with a deep pull from her water bottle.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Greyson said, passing him the letter. Lilah propped her arm up on his shoulder, only to be dislodged as he propped his arm up on her head. The two leaned in and read the letter together, their faces screwing up at almost the exact same moment.

"Well that's cryptic," Lilah said, taking the page from Evan's hand and flipping it over, checking the blank back. She handed it back to Greyson, who nodded his assent.

"So my bet's on bird," Evan said, ganking Lilah's water bottle and finishing it off.

"Evan!" Nyla called from the other side of the house, "Have you sent me your portion of the mortgage yet?"

"I thought the point of buying a house was to get away from landlords," Evan muttered to Lilah, who snorted.

"Evan!"

"Doing that now!"

Sasha entered and gently shoed the athletes out. "I n-need to get st-started on dinner."

She placed her hand on Greyson's shoulder. "It'll be fine. Maybe it's j-just a dog?"

Greyson shrugged, sighing. He wondered why he'd even been IN the woman's will at all.

"N-now move. I'm cooking."

Greyson smiled playfully back, bumping his hip to Sasha's, and left. He found Nyla rifling through the rest of the mail.

"Are you sure that's all they sent you?"

"Unfortunately."

Nyla huffed, letting the letters smack against her skirt. "Why couldn't they have had a lawyer write to us or something? Anything to save a dime, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be preparing for!"

"We can run to a pet store the day it gets here. If not, a night in the garage won't kill it," Greyson assured. Also, wasn't HE supposed to be the one preparing? He set his hand on her shoulder. "You worry too much."

"I worry exactly the right amount, thank you," Nyla said, whapping him with the mail. As she walked towards her office, she called out, "Lilah, you'd better have put those in the hamper!"

"Does it bring you joy to endlessly nag?!"

"I live in a house with four other people!"

Greyson chuckled. He was also probably overthinking this. It was weird, and definitely unexpected, but it would all be fine.

--

That was a human person.

Tall, with choppily short hair, kneeling in their front entryway between Evan and Lilah's running shoes and the narrow side table Nyla used for mail and key rings.

That was a human person.

They all looked to each other, wondering what to do, and this was technically Greyson's problem, which meant he was the one who should do something about this. Why. Why this. Why him?!?!

When it became undeniably obvious that the other four were waiting on him and the silence was stiflingly uncomfortable, Greyson cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Hello?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question.

"Hello master," the slave returned, skirt fisted with shaking knuckles.

"I am Greyson," he cleared his throat again, "What's your name?"

"...Galo."

Oh Greyson was so out of his depth.

"So uh, you're Bethany's pet? Ex pet?" Evan asked, and Greyson was relieved someone else had said something.

"Yes master."

"This is weird," Lilah stated, shifting anxiously from foot to foot with jittery energy. "This is fucking weird. Why did your ex girlfriend give you a slave? Why were you dating someone who likes slavery?! Greyson what the fuck!"

"Okay deep breaths!" Nyla ordered loudly, everyone complying instantly. "This is. Unexpected," she agreed. "But let's not get out of hand. Galo, sweetie, would you please stand up?"

"Yes mistress."

"You don't need to call anyone master or mistress."

"Ma'am?"

"Ma'am is fine. Let's get you settled in. You can probably stay in Sasha's room at the moment, who'll sleep with me?"

Sasha nodded.

"Okay, good. Are these all of your belongings?" Nyla asked, gesturing at Galo's duffle bag, who nodded again.

"Okay, great. This way."

Greyson was so, so grateful to know Nyla. So glad she was in his life. Her competence was unparalleled.

"I-I'm going to make d-dinner."

--

Galo followed his mistress, who he wasn't going to call mistress, to a baby blue room with impressionist paintings hung from the walls, leaned up against each other, stacked against the desk and dresser. Canvases were just about everywhere, but it didn't seem messy. Just full.

"This is Sasha's room but you can stay here until we figure all this out. Oh! My name is Nyla, sorry, I spaced on that, we'll get you introduced to everyone properly once... once we settle down."

Galo bowed, hand crossed over his chest.

"This is just a little unexpected. We hadn't known you were--human."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"No, no, no need to apologize. Just some information lost in the pipeline. Why don't you settle in and... we'll chat more at supper."

His mistress left, closing the door behind her, and Galo was left standing in the center of a room that wasn't his.

He took a shaky breath. Well. They'd accepted his name, at least, which was nice. Maybe someday he'd tell them about... him being a man. Maybe. Definitely going to wait and see on that one, he wasn't interested in a repeat of what had happened last time he'd told an owner he was a man.

There were five of them.

Galo sank to his knees, duffle bag hitting the floor, his hands covering his mouth. There were five of them.

He was a fairly gigantic failure at keeping one owner off his back, how was he ever going to please five?!? And the little one had been so angry with his presence--he would have to show his gratitude to Mistress Nyla, later, for stepping in.

Oh god, what would they use him for? This house was no estate--maybe they would just have him clean. Yeah, maybe, maybe he could just clean for them and stick to the shadows and he would be ignored.

A hysteric peal of laughter bubbled out of him.

Ignored.

Yeah, right.

--

But for some reason, that... did seem to be the case. They ignored him. Mistress Sasha and Master Evan especially seemed to have no idea what to do with him, and would awkwardly prompt him to leave them alone if he guessed their routines wrong and ended up in the same room as them.

Master Greyson made earnest attempts to speak with him, which Galo responded to as best he could. But the conversations were stilted things. The most successful ones hinged around Mistress Bethany, and Galo always found himself stressed and exhausted after talking about her.

Mistress Lilah seemed to find him a curiosity, asking him questions and prodding him into helping her with her "Influencer Gig," which mostly involved holding light sources or cameras for her. She would occasionally do up Galo's hair and makeup, and Galo tried very, very hard not to show how miserable that made him. To smile and be grateful and not waste her product and time with babyish tears.

Mistress Nyla was his favorite. She had him help with the household chores and spoke kindly to him. She would praise and sometimes touch him. Conversations with her were... trickier, though.

Mistress Nyla has a very good memory. She would ask questions, know things he'd told Master Greyson or Mistress Lilah, gently pull his life's story from him. She would sometimes make him ask uncomfortable questions about himself, too, about his place as a slave, which--he knew better. He knew better!

She would stop, when he started shaking, though. Ask him to please go clean the kitchen or bathroom or fold laundry. It made him feel weak. A useless, manipulative slave who cried to get out of situations he didn't like.

"It's okay, Galo," she sometimes murmured, petting his hair and letting him kneel at her feet with his head in her lap. "You're being good for us. It's alright sweetie."

--

Master Evan didn't like talking to Galo. So he knew better. But one day, a couple friends of Master Evan's had come and gone, and one of them--

Not that Galo wanted to assume, or presume, but she'd. She had looked.

"Yeah, she's trans," Master Evan confirmed, looking desperately uncomfortable. Galo would find a way to apologize later. He just. He had to. He.

"And that's okay?" he blurted gracelessly, instinctively flinching back for two reasons.

"Yeah? I mean, yes, absolutely, I respect and support her 100%."

Galo fidgeted with his skirt, something Mistress Bethany had bought that he wanted little more than to burn.

"Are... do you, wanna tell me something?" Master Evan asked, also not making eye contact. "Or, maybe tell Nyla something, since I dunno if I'm really the guy to, uh." He gestured at himself and Galo bit his lip.

"The others are also, okay with, uh?"

"Being trans. Yes. It's not bad... bro? We're all chill and respectful here. Oh you know Sasha? Sasha's like, super smart, and knows all about this stuff, she could talk to you about this?"

"Yes sir," Galo said, knowing he'd overstayed his welcome the moment he'd opened his mouth.

"Cool. Chill. Yeah. Okay then," Master Evan said, and left the room quickly.

--

That night Galo had found a pair of Master Evan's sweatpants and a couple of old t-shirts on his bed.

--

The next time Lilah pulled Galo to help with her Influencer Gig, she'd done his makeup and hair and he had cried, to see a man who looked like him staring back from the mirror.

--

Mistress Nyla took him shopping. She held his hand, both literally and metaphorically, with increasing frequency as he started to transition and actually began to feel like this new house was his home. That these people weren't going to hurt him, that they maybe even liked him. Almost.

--

Mistress Sasha had him help her move her remaining belongings from the blue room. His room. They were, officially and permanently, making her old room his. Her paintings were either hung up throughout the rest of the house or set into storage in the garage. He helped her carry whatever else was left into Mistress Nyla's--now hers and Mistress Sasha's--room and organize so Mistress Nyla didn't work herself into a fit over the clutter.

"Thank you," he said quietly, crouched in front of the dresser and slipping some of Mistress Sasha's less-used attire into the drawers.

"Hm?"

"For, giving me your space, ma'am." For everything. For all of it.

Mistress Sasha crossed over to him and sat in the floor where he was, opening her arms to him. He leaned in, slowly wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face to her shoulder.

"You're part of the f-family now," she said warmly. "Of c-course."

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 6

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After learning Hawk Moth's identity, Lila inserts herself into Gabriel's inner circle so she can destroy Ladybug-- er, get Ladybug's earrings. Ha-ha-ha. Ha.

Lila toed the cement beneath her as she restlessly awaited the assistant’s arrival. Gabriel had used an earpiece to communicate to her, Lila assumed. But the waiting was painfully awkward. Neither party made any attempt to fill the silence. The absurdity of the situation sat on their chests like an overweight feline unwilling to move.

As the sun dipped out of golden hour, the mansion shrouded the garden in shadow. Lila squinted her eyes to try and make out the details of Adrien’s mother’s statue, but the effort was fruitless. Wouldn’t a billionaire have, like, lamps or something? Maybe he didn’t have lamps because he hardly left the walls of his office.

Lila’s lips twitched into a smirk, but she quickly smothered it.

There was a sudden scuffling of shoes against the garden stones from behind Lila. She observed wordlessly from the corner of her eye as the looming and brooding Gabriel Agreste flew to the assistant’s side at an inhuman speed and held his arms out to support her silently, his fingers never quite making contact with the body he seemed desperate to protect.

Huh. A weakness. Hawk Moth had a weakness.

Lila filed that tidbit away should she need it for later.

“You were quite cryptic over the phone, sir,” the assistant started.

“I suppose I was, Nathalie. What needed to be said was . . . not phone appropriate.”

“Sir?”

Knowing Gabriel was Hawk Moth seemed to have tipped a domino in Lila’s brain. It was like there was a blanket over her eyes and it had been ripped away. On several occasions, a blue-skinned bird lady aided and abetted Hawk Moth. Lila had wondered who would possibly be close enough to the villain to be looped into his plans.

The connection was easy to make.

Lila folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side, looking Nathalie up and down. When she had finagled her way into the Agreste mansion with a despicable limited edition Ladybug figurine, discovering the identities of Paris’s most wanted duo was not only low on her list of possibilities; it was nowhere near the friggin’ list.

But Dio was it the single most delectable turn of events.

“Let me guess. You were Mayura.”

Nathalie, who had been wholly oblivious to Lila’s presence, sucked in a breath, head spinning to meet the eyes of Adrien’s conniving classmate. Nathalie opened her mouth, probably to protest Lila’s statement, but the words died on her tongue. The only sounds came from the crickets chirping into the encroaching night air.

“She knows,” Gabriel explained.

“She . . . she knows?” Nathalie repeated.

Gabriel nodded. Nathalie’s gaze fell to the grass sprouting in between the garden stones. As the trio stood, the occasional butterfly fluttered around Gabriel like they knew they were kindred.

“You don’t need to be worried about . . . What’s the phrase?” Lila rested a finger on her chin. “Ah, right. Me spilling the fagioli. I don’t know the French word.”

“Beans,” Nathalie supplied.

“You know Italian?” he asked. Then softly to himself, “My Emilie knew Italian.”

Nathalie ducked her head at Gabriel’s attention before straightening her posture and jutting out her chin. If Lila hadn’t seen the woman shuffle over to this spot as if she were going to faint any moment, she might have never known there was anything amiss.

“So you . . . what? Want to be an ally?”

“Multilingual and smart,” Lila teased.

Something dark flickered in Nathalie’s eyes. Much darker than Lila would have ever given her credit for. “You’d do better to watch your tone with me, Mademoiselle Rossi.” She spat Lila’s name like one might an unforeseen chunk of raw garlic.

Ah, so this was how Nathalie wanted to play this. Lila’s fingers tingled in anticipation. She was a flexible actress, best known for her improv skills and dedication to her roles. If a performance was what the assistant wanted, then Lila was eager to put on a show.

“Why, Mademoiselle Nathalie--” Lila started, turning her back on the pair.

“Sancoeur.”

Lila rolled her eyes but proceeded to pump her tone full of sickeningly sweet syrup. “Right. Mademoiselle Sancoeur, it would be my pleasure to get the Ladybug Miraculous for Monsieur Agreste.”

“And Chat Noir’s.”

Lila plastered a fake smile on her face and turned on her heel. “Hm?”

Nathalie arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You loathe Ladybug, don’t you, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

“That’s no secret.”

“You want more than to take her Miraculous.”

It wasn’t a question. Lila held eye contact with Nathalie, unflinching. Eventually, she spoke. “I want to humiliate her. Like she humiliated me,” Lila growled. I want to destroy her.

The assistant chose not to expand on this statement, but Lila could tell she sensed a much more sinister motivation. She must have been weighing the pros and cons, her mind running a mile a minute to predict what including Lila might entail. Lila had to agree: she was a wildcard. Her loyalties teetered like a see-saw, ever-changing to suit her needs. She knew this. And Nathalie knew this.

Lila’s eyes bore into Nathalie��s, challenging her to refuse.

“I admit,” Nathalie began after a beat of consideration, removing her tablet from the crook of her arm, “you might make a valuable asset.”

Gabriel, who had been quietly observing the interaction between his assistant and the girl, folded his arms behind his back. “Yes, even now, while I’m untransformed, your contempt for the bug is palpable.”

“She’s a cockroach,” Lila sneered, her lips upturned in a grimace and her hand clenched tightly into a fist.

Lila’s enthusiasm amused Gabriel greatly. His shoulders shook as he chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “That is something we agree on. No matter how many times I pursue her, she manages to outsmart me.”

Lila bit her tongue. She wanted to say It’s easy to outsmart a man whose password is “password,” but she didn’t. She honestly deserved an award for that caliber of commitment.

“While you are very clever, you’ve been playing an elementary partita, Monsieur Agreste.”

Gabriel’s eyes hesitantly shifted to Nathalie.

“Game, match, etcetera,” she clarified. Ironically, a meager little ladybird flitted to Gabriel’s shoulders then. He scrunched his nose at it.

“And though it’s been a rousing game of tag--” Lila paused purposefully as Gabriel, without breaking eye contact, lifted a palm and allowed the dotted beetle to crawl onto his fingers before proceeding to wordlessly pass it to Nathalie. Lila cleared her throat. “I’m here to up the stakes.”

With her mouth set into a thin line, Nathalie bent over and shook her finger until the thing lost its grip and fell to the concrete. In the process, her shirt rode up to reveal a compelling pale scar the length of a thumb running up her side. Lila arched an eyebrow. Nathalie hastily covered it.

“What exactly are you implying, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

Gabriel peered at Lila over the bridge of his nose, daring her to challenge his legacy as Hawk Moth.

But Lila was not an expert manipulator for nothing. She knew how to read people, and, more importantly, she knew how to please them.

She knew how to play them.

“You’re a proper gentleman, Monsieur.”

Flattery. She would begin with flattery.

With one hand, she twirled one of her pigtails. Men and boys alike often found intelligent girls not only intimidating but emasculating. She wasn’t sure if Gabriel would take too kindly to a sixteen year old picking at all the holes in his plans, holding a magnifying glass to his inadequacies.

But she always loved creating fire with glass as a child.

She particularly enjoyed setting unsuspecting ants aflame.

“Getting your hands dirty is beneath you. There’s no doubt your plans are always cunning.”

She nearly gagged at the sound of those words leaving her throat as she slowly approached the designer and his assistant, calculating each step before taking it. No, she really didn’t believe his plans were cunning. It seemed like he akumatized anyone, chucking strategy to the wind. Imbecille.

“Your akumas, they’re always dressed so well--” it took a colossal amount of willpower for Lila not to look away then, a classic sign of lying “--and their powers are always a genius play on words--” double gag “--but unless you’re willing to play in the mud . . .”

Crunch.

The young vixen made a spectacle of rotating her toes back and forth as she squashed the ladybug the duo had so gingerly set on the stone. She relished in the sensation of a dainty beetle beneath her boot, imagining in vivid detail that it was the heroine’s skull instead.

When she lifted her foot, the two adults barely spared a glance at the result. Lila smirked.

“I’m willing to make a mess, sir,” Lila asserted, peering up at Gabriel through her bangs. She twirled and danced on the balls of her feet. “I would be a brilliant addition! I’ve wanted to wipe that smile off Ladybug’s face since I met her.”

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Gabriel’s lips tilted into a smile. He looked . . . almost proud. Lila lapped it up like a woman lost in the desert being given a bottle cap of water.

“Your family is from Italy, Lila?”

Lila tilted her head, confused by the abrupt detour in conversation. “. . . Yes.”

“How would you feel about an impromptu family visit?”

Nathalie’s eyes widened. She whipped her head around to stare down her boss so fast she was nearly overcome by dizziness. “You can’t really want--”

Gabriel held up a hand, instantly silencing his assistant. She searched his eyes for any remnants of humanity. Was there any left? Did it slip through her fingers on her watch? Gabriel couldn’t possibly want-- They were children, for God’s sakes!

But like an avalanche, his mask crumbled, and swept away with it was any morsel of decency.

“I do want, Nathalie. I’ve grown bored of this back-and-forth business with those two meddling infants. They hold onto those Miraculous so firmly, as if they could possibly know, possibly fathom--”

He didn’t finish his statement, closing his eyes and rolling his neck. Lila delighted in Gabriel’s sudden slip of conduct as his shoulders hunched all the way to his ears and he grinded his teeth. She hadn’t pictured him to be capable of such an erupting volcano of emotion. She often wondered if he was capable of emotion at all.

“Hand me the tablet, Nathalie.”

Nathalie gripped the tablet until her fingers turned white, but the resolve she saw in Gabriel loosened her own. Grudgingly, she passed him the device.

“There are some items I’d like you to procure for me, items that I surmise you’ll be quite pleased to have in your arsenal.”

Whatever these items were, they seemed to have Nathalie on the edge of her seat.

It was suddenly imperative that Lila find out what could have ruffled Mayura’s pretty feathers.

“Sir, you won’t be disappointed.”

Gabriel eyed Lila a moment before affirming, “I don’t believe I will.”

The final remnants of the golden hour neglected the garden, blanketing its visitors in a foreboding shadow like it was them and then it was the rest of the world. Perhaps this is why they missed the piercing green eyes surveying the trio scrupulously from a neighboring building.

So jealousy was a green-eyed monster.

No one mentioned it also wore black leather.

-----

I hope you're enjoying my little fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it! 🥰 There's still so much to uncover in this story so buckle up. Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

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