#and 3) his very existence and words are not enough to sway a person to an entirely new lifestyle

[starheirxero]

JUST WATCHED THE NEWEST TSAMS EPISODE. Y’ALL BEST LEAVE THAT POOR BOY ALONEEE 😭 CAN’T A ROBOT HAVE A HOBBY……..

[merbear25]

Thank you for your last response! I'd love to see America, Italy, Denmark, and Spain(if you write for him) finding their soulmate(red string, numbers counting down, first words spoken to each other, whatever works best!). She's shocked that someone like them ends up with her(plus size or just insecure if you don't mind? If not thats ok!) Please and thank you again!

Hello again! I have a 3 character limit, so I'm sorry but I decided to give Spain the chopping block 😭 Hope you like it regardless!

CW: SFW, fem!reader, reader has slight insecurites, fluff

Tethered love

America: Destiny was something he'd always believed should be molded, not something that was set in stone. The freedom to choose your own path was an idea he held very dear. This extended to the idea of soulmates: he was in full control of whoever he chose to date, not leaving something as important as this up to the stars. Despite the front he put up, he held out a bit of hope that such things regarding love existed: red string being his favorite. However, with years turning into decades and decades into centuries, the probability that he was tied to someone felt more and more unlikely.

Cruising down the same interstate he always took to the world meetings, he'd been caught up in belting his heart out to a song on the radio, causing him to miss his exit. Cursing under his breath, he was left no choice but to take the next one, but there was something off in the distance, further down the road, that caught his eye: a car pulled off on the shoulder and what looked like someone darting to the trunk.

Pulling up behind the supposedly broken-down vehicle, he went to ask if the driver needed any assistance. Your soft cries were muffling your pleads for any help he could offer. The soft features you had were now flushed from the paniced tears. However, they only added to your charm: the damsel waiting for her knight to come to her aid.

You showed him that one of your tires had popped and you'd forgotten to replace your previous spare. Embarrassement prickled at your nerves when admitting your lack of oversight, but he didn't seem to be bothered by the inconvenience you were troubling him with.

Gratitude could not leave your lips fast enough as you watched him graciously attach his spare to your car. Reassuring you that it wasn't a big deal and that he was happy to help, you still felt like you ought to properly thank him. Your stance shifted as you contimplated how to propose getting coffee with him—fearing the rejection that could follow.

Seeing you sway from side to side in his peripheral, he automatically thought you were about to pass out—why else would you be teetering back and forth? So as not to startle you, his concern was coated in a soothing tone. The redness in your cheeks deepened, only making you appear sweeter to him.

Choking your doubts back, you stumbled over your words asking him out. There was a light that shined behind his eyes—a beckon of hope for what he'd thought wasn't possible. Agreeing to the date was the only way to keep this feeling alive, and perhaps, he was willing to let destiny decide his fate just this once.

Italy: He'd built up the reputation of a fleeting lover. It wasn't intentional; he simply had a lot of love and affection to give and limiting it to one person wasn't something that necessarily came easily. That being said, he was a hopeless romantic at heart, which meant soulmates was something he held in high regards. However, he didn't consider this to be in the cards for him, at least not in the same regards as it was for typical humans: their lives were, of course, much shorter than his. Despite the sliver of doubt he had for his own destined love, he kept his heart open to the idea.

That summer had been a rather hot one, but a cold front had alleviated the sweltering heat a bit. Trying to make the most of the nice weather, he went to one of the many river banks. The shade under a tree was calling his name; he made himself comfortable underneath it, looking out at the water, enjoying the slight breeze before drifting off into a cat nap.

Sounds of a distant cry woke him and looking around in a haze, his drowsy eyes fell on you. Your sun hat had been blown off of you from the sudden gust of wind and you were chasing after it. The breeze carried it in his direction, and without thinking much of it, he reached out to grab it for you.

Offering it to you, he was able to get a better look at you: you were huffing a bit from having to chase it around, but the gratitude for his kindness actually made the out of breath 'thank yous' all the more endearing.

When he got up to properly introduce himself, you tucked your hair behind your ear and bashfully looked to the side; he was, in fact, fairly handsome and being in your current unkempt state made you shy away from the warm smile beaming at you. Wanting to meet your gaze, he leaned to catch your eyes.

You had a unique charm to you—there was no denying it, but why weren't you letting him admire it? The redness in your face was becoming more noticable, leading him to ask if you were feeling well. Spitting out that you felt fine, you finally turned to grant him the eye contact he'd been after.

A tightening in both of your chests was pulling on you; your heart beats quickened their paces the longer you maintained the shared gaze. You let out a soft chuckle at the constant attention. He found your laugh infectious and a grin appeared on his face, giving him the incentive to ask if you were doing anything later.

Denmark: He was fairly strong in his personal beliefs and self-assured in where life was taking him. However, there were aspects of life that held wonder and mystery, one of which being able to find a soulmate. There was a decent amount of uncertainty burdening him, since he'd like to think something as pure as a red string was real but was reluctant to fully invest himself in the theory—not wanting to hold his breath that such a thing existed. There were still moments that made him wonder though: seeing others share joy and the spark of love they held for each other.

Having to stop at the bakery was only one of the errands he needed to run that day. The smell of freshly baked bread always put a smile on his face, since he couldn't wait to eat that first slice. Exiting the shop, he'd gotten a bit distracted by his whetting appetite.

Not noticing the dog sprinting towards him, he hummed at the thought of the jam he was looking forward to spreading on the fresh bread. Your dog hurried up to him, circling around his legs and causing the leash to tangle around him.

Luckily, he was quick enough not to fall flat on his face, but the bread tilted in his arm, causing it to slide out to the packet. Annoyed at the inconvenience, he was sensible enough not to blame it on the dog. Looking around for the overly excited dog's owner, he saw you hurrying towards him.

Any aggrevation he could've had towards the careless owner faded when he saw your sorrowful expression calling out to him. When you finally reached them, your dog was jumping up on him trying its hardest to receive a pat on the head, which he absentmindedly placed on its eager head.

After catching up to your dog, you apologized profusely for your carelessness. Despite being in the midst of pouring your heart out about how you'd buy him more bread and how sorry you were, his tender eyes made you lose your train of thought.

The way you stumbled over your heart-felt apology was endearing to him: you were darling. With your dog licking his hand, you reached down to untangle the leash that was still wrapped around him. Taking you up on your offer to reimburse him, he mentioned that he'd instead like to be repaid with something more formal: a date.

[the-fools-route]

THE FOOLS ROUTE

Chapter 3

Google docs isn't working so I don't know the word count. 😐

Expect grammar mistakes

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" Rise and shine! "

Portia opens the curtains, filling the room with light. I pull the covers over my head, it's way too bright right now.

" Not a morning person huh? Maybe I can convince you to get up with some breakfast? "

I slowly pull the blanket from my face.

" I might be interested."

She laughs at that. She sets a silver tray on the dresser next to my bed. It's filled with warm flaky pastries.

" I also brought a fresh set of clothes for you to wear. "

She sets the clothes pile on my bed, and she looks at me funny.

" Are you ok? You look like you're thinking of something important. "

The golden corridors still cloud my mind.

" Just a weird dream. "

She makes a sound of acknowledgement.

" You have a pretty free day today, all you really have to do is join milady for dinner tonight. I have to leave to run some errands. But till then, the world is your oyster! "

The door clicks and all is quiet. But my mind is not. I cannot stop thinking about last night. I usually have weird dreams, but this one takes the cake. Candlewick lightly lifts his head, swaying. He first slowly surveys the room, then trots to the edge of the bed and slides off. He lazily wanders around the room, exploring his new domain. I pull my phone from my pocket, the battery level is still the same. Strange. I sigh heavily, loud enough to make Wick look at me.

" What do I do now? "

Candlewick sits, as if he was thinking. He then trots to the bed pawing toward the folded clothes.

" Yeah, I should probably change. "

I've been given loose steel blue pants and a lighter blue top. The sleeves are wide and flowing. The outfit clashes with my red shoes, but I don't mind much.

" You know, for a cat you seem to understand me pretty well. "

He rolls on his back ignoring me. The platter Portia left me was fairly large, and very expensive looking. I trace the intricate designs of the silver platter with my finger. There were 5 pastries, some with what looks like fruit jam inside. Don't get me wrong, I love fruit. I'm just picky about how I eat them. Jam is a no no. I take the most plain looking bread roll. I be careful to not drop any crumbs on the floor, which proved to be more of a problem then I thought it would.

I leave my room to explore for the day since I'm not very busy. Candlewick trots close behind me, he seems to be a great travel buddy. I'm glad I'm not alone. The halls are brilliantly lit by the golden sun. The silk curtains gleam and the floors I swear were mirrors in their past life. The halls are much more lively than they were yesterday, people with big hats and bigger feathers adorned on them walk the halls. Some are holding papers or baskets, and some wave at me. I shyly wave back. I really don't belong here, I'm like a stray dog. At least dogs are cute. I explore different rooms, and believe me there are plenty of them here for me to stoop in. I found a a room filled with instruments, and another with chairs and couches. I hope nobody minds that I'm snooping around.

I eventually find large double doors that lead into an empty ballroom, a very big empty ballroom. A glass dome ceiling lets streams of light in, sending gold streaks to dance around the room. I Imagine the light morphing into people in regal dresses and suits, spinning and gliding effortlessly across the floor. It's beautiful. I personally don't know how to dance, but it feel like the right thing to do right now. I pick Candlewick up and hold him in my arms.

" May I have this dance? "

He peeps.

" That's probably a yes. "

I spin around the room trying to copy the golden phantoms around me, it's not easy. I keep tripping over my feet, but I don't mind. I sing to Candlewick a song that doesn't exist here, something only known by me. He purrs contentedly, I swear he's swaying with me. A cloud passes over the skylight dimming the light. The gold dancers disappear leaving us alone. I drop Candlewick and bow, and I can't help myself but laugh. Who knew dancing could be fun? The cloud passes and the room is bright again.

" Where to now? "

He stares at me for exactly two seconds then takes off running to a door on the right. I chase after him.

" Whoa! Can't we just walk or something? "

I dont understand how he can run so fast with so little traction. He slips through a cracked door and disappears. I persue to to little avail. The aroma of flowers swirl around my head as I open the door. I must be on the balcony from yesterday. Large marble stairs lead me down from the balcony to the gardens.

Morning dew blankets vibrant flowers of all shapes and sizes, I recognize a few of them. Peonies, roses, lavender, so on so forth. I move at a slow pace around the garden beds trying to find where that dang cat went, I find nothing but the sound of the early birds and the first sunshine of the day. I end up not finding him in the end, but instead finding a large white pavilion with a table and some chairs. I take a break from searching, he will show up eventually.

A cockatoo lands on the table I'm sitting at. He hops around and surveys me with his red eyes.

" Hello there friend. "

He skips to my hand and nibbles on my fingers. I attempt to pet him with my other hand. He puffs up and hisses at me.

" Fuck you! "

I'm left absolutely stunned. He just cursed at me!

" Excuse me? "

He squawks at me and flys away.

" Well, screw you too bird. "

He taunts me from a tree branch, hopping around puffing his feathers.

" My my, such colorful language. "

I know that voice. I whip around to see Nadia behind me, I didn't even hear her approach me.

" Do you know that bird? "

She sighs.

" Yes, I believe he was my husband's. "

She doesn't look as if she was fond of his bird.

" He always had such a temper. " she sighs.

" Your husband or the bird? "

She looks shocked, I probably shouldn't have said that. I attempt to apologize, but she laughs.

" I believe both, if possible. "

She pulls a chair from the table to sit in.

" I believe I have found a friend of yours. "

She looks to the side were lo and behold, Candlewick emerges from a bush. I think he goes out of his way to give me a hard time.

" How has your time here been? Are you comfortable? "

My hands fidget underneath the table.

*Pick*

*Pick*

*Pick*

" I've been fine, I don't have any complaints. "

Her voice is so soothing, she's so easy to listen to. She looks to the sky and smiles.

" It's been a while since I've gotten a chance to sit out here, every time I have a moment to myself another problem arises. "

When was the last time she had a day to herself?

" You could take the day off, go into town, I'm sure nothing too horrible could happen. Worse case scenario a painting falls over. "

She looks at me with wide eyes. Then looks to the side, concentrating. A small sound leaves her mouth with finality.

" Then we shall go to town. "

" We? "

The streets are bustling with noise as people start their day. Shouting and laughing become white noise, almost unnoticed. Almost. Nadia had wrapped herself in a purple shaw to blend in with the crowd. I was dressed ths same, I had no title to draw unwanted eyes, well other than being a thief in that one specific market that I will be sure to avoid, but that's beside the point. I have an ( nearly ) blank slate.

I point out stalls with strange oddities that I had never seen before. The shiny items beckon for me like a siren calling to an unsuspecting sailor. We visit meny vendors selling high quality goods, Nadia has told me at least a billion times that i can get whatever I wanted. Yes, I saw meny nice things. And also yes, I picked up said meny things to admire them with my hands. Feeling the bumps and ridges on everything. But I had no need or want for such things, they're just nice to look at. Time flew by without acknowledgement, we had shared a lunch in some high-rated inn. We had made small talk about restaurants from home.

" So, the owners knew the food was unhealthy? And they sold it anyway? "

I laugh at Nadia's confusion.

" Yep. But everyone still loved McDonald's, as bad as it was. "

I pick at my food before me. I had a plate of some sort of spiced meat drowned in a sauce. I ate most of it but I honestly wasn't all that hungry. I don't want to say we were running out of things to do, but it felt as if we were. There was much more to be done, just not today.

" What do we do now? "

Nadia readjusts her shaw to ensure anonymity, but her eyes never leave me. Once she is satisfied with her disguise she takes my hand into hers and smiles.

" Why don't I take you to a tailor to get yourself outfitted to your preference. I'd love to treat you as a thank you, I haven't had this much fun in a while. "

*Pick*

*Pick*

*Pick*

I tear at my nails with uncertainty.

" Are you sure? Do we have time? "

She smiles that beautiful smile once again.

" With certainly. "

So Nadia took me to see a tailor.

She expressed mild worry, as she had never been to this peticular store before. She has high standards for such things, and wanted it to be perfect or it was just a waste of time in her opinion. Once we enter and observe the room to be empty other then the man at the front desk, she removed her "disguise". Two things happen.

First, the man behind the front counter froze for a moment and stuttered his welcome slightly. I bet he didn't count on seeing the Countess in his store today. Secondly, I wondered how the hell is her hair so perfect after being covered and walking around all day.

We are each lead to a room to be measured. I stood on a small platform in the middle of said room, it was filled with mannequins and long rolls of patterned fabric. The room was filled yet was still orderly. I had never been measured before, I just grabbed clothes from my local Walmart and called it a day. I felt as if it was mildly invasive but that was to be expected. Once the man was done he lead me to an even larger room with clothes, he told me they were my size. Or at least close too.

I'm surrounded by suits, evening gowns, and robes. I try on a dress or two. But I don't keep them, i'm not really a dress person. Makes me feel silly for some reason, but the idea of wearing one is nice I guess. If I did wear dresses, i want it to "feel" like me. I don't want to look in the mirror and see someone else. I don't quite know what I'm looking for, as of now I am simply grabbing clothes and trying them on. But nothing really sticks. Not until I find a white blouse. It has puffy sleeves that cinch at the wrists and a simple v-line collar. I back track through the clothes till I find a pair of very dark pants, I try both on. I tuck the blouse in for a cleaner look, yet it's still a bit plain. I search the clothing racks for something to add. A mannequin catches my eye. A leather underbust corset lies wrapped around the wooden waist. I trace my fingers along the strings. This will work.

I stand in front of a tall mirror admiring my work. My white blouse tucked into my pants, then wrapped in the corset. Dark brown leather boots with a pair of slightly lighter half chaps, for a bit of pizzazz. I look at myself in the mirror, admiring my work. Maybe I should find a pretty collar for Candlewick, so he can be fancy too. But that will have to wait, I have a bigger problem at the moment. I need to leave the changing room.

What if my outfit is wrong? What if it's not nice enough? My hand hangs over the doorknob shaking, trembling. I don't understand why I am so hesitant to be seen. Maybe I don't want to be judged. Candlewick leans against my boot, he's either comforting me or demanding attention. Regardless, it calms me. I place my hand on the doorknob, no turning back now.

I'd like to say that the changing room door creaked horrendously loud causing strangers to look at me, and that they turned their heads away with disgust. And that some random woman shielded her baby's eye in fear of it crying because of me. But that's not what happened. The door didn't make a sound, no creaking. It was silent. And the room wasn't filled with potentially upset people, it was nearly empty. Filled only Nadia and a man measuring her clothing size. The tailor barely notices me, Nadia on the other hand definitely saw me.

* Pick *

* Pick *

* Pick *

She smiles but says nothing.

I wait around awkwardly until she was satisfied with browsing the store. She waves her hand to dismiss the tailor. He leaves for a few minutes before returning with a few rolls of fabric.

" I summoned a carriage for us while you were changing, it's late in the afternoon and I don't want to tire you out. Our duties are not yet finished. "

*Pick*

*Pick*

*Pick*

" Ok. "

I respond in a small quiet voice, my nerves always get the best of me.

I had never been in a carriage before this. The seats were plush and soft, very inviting. They were a beautiful crimson, like a fine wine. Total upgrade from the hard dirty seats on the bus.

She pat the seat beside her, signaling me to sit. She gently lays her hand on mine, her rings feeling cool on my warm skin.

" You look beautiful in your new clothes, I only hope you shall allow me to spoil you in the future again. "

My face flushes red, I'm not used to such treatment. It made me feel weird. Tingly? I felt warm, I felt . . .

Loved.

The ride wasn't very long, so we were back by sunset. Nadia was pleased that nothing horrific had happened with her temporary absence, as was I. Nadia told me to have some fun before dinner so she sent me on my way. I wasn't really sure what to do, so I just wondered around. I walked with a bounce in my step, I felt like I was shinning.

I feel great here. At home, I felt like I was just some other ordinary teen. No one paid any mind to me. But here? I think I can make something good for myself.

I went to Lucio to show him my new outfit, he was expectedly unimpressed by the lack of "flair and gold ". But he did say it was nice. I told him about my trip with Nadia, and about the new things I had seen. He seemed sour, grumbling how Nadia never took him to town.

We had laid on the rug by the grand window and talked for a long time. He talked about a "red market" and how he loved to romp around and buy whatever he wanted. And I talked about video games I had played and movies I had seen. Lucio seemed quite content with himself, he practically melted into the carpet while I told him the plot of a Disney movie. His eyes were soft and his breathing was steady.

He looked happy.

I obviously couldn't stay forever as I had a dinner to attend, I bid fairwell to Lucio and left. I felt him follow me, although I couldn't see him i knew he was there. I found his dogs lounging about toward the staircase that lead to his side of the palace. I made sure to scratch their ears as I passed. I think Lucio stayed with his dogs because of a sudden feeling of loneliness that came apon me as I left.

I enter the grand dinning room to see Asra and Nadia talking amongst themselves.

" I'm sorry I'm a little bit late, I got lost. "

"With time you will be acoctomed with the layout. What matters is you are here now."

Nadia reassures me that all is well. Thank God, this place is a damn labyrinth.

The long table welcoming, Nadia sits at an end with an empty chair to her side. I'll be between her and Asra. Me and Asra haven't really talked much and I had a few questions. Nothing of importance, I'm just curious of his character. We are brought meals one by one. First a light salad, then some butterd bread, and finally a spiced fish. I'm not really a salad person. I don't prefer it with ranch, although most people do. And I hate croutons. Yes, croutons. But this salad? The one before me?

Heavenly. It was lightly peppered and had a dressing that wasn't overpowering.

This place is awsome.

We had nice conversations about our pasts. I shared pleasant memories of a rainbow xylophone I had when I was young. Asra spoke of adventures to far away places. And Nadia of her childhood home. Eventually Nadia got on the topic of her late husband. No one seemed somber when his death was brought up. Asra briefed Nadia on their recent findings regarding said event. I know it's not my place to ask, but I need to know. Half of his room is suffocated by ash. I want to know why. How do I ask this in a nice way?

" How did he pass away? "

Nailed it.

Asra didn't look uncomfortable, but he didn't look thrilled that I asked.

" 3 years ago my husband was murdered by his personal doctor. "

Time to ask another dumb question.

" His doctor? Was he sick? "

Asra answers my second question.

" He was affected by the red plague. It killed hundreds of innocents. Noone afflicted survived. "

They looked sad now.

" Meny of the deaths, were of people I knew. "

Hundreds? That's horrible. Was it because of the lack of modern medicine? How were so meny lives lost?

" We are still on a man hunt for the man responsible for my husband's death. Dr. Julian Devorak. "

. . .

I pause. Murder? No, not possible. He was so kind to me, to Asra. But Asra is looking for him? We saw him yesterday?

I look at him next to me, we lock eyes. The look he's giving me tells me to stay silent. Dont say anything.

So I said nothing.

[ciaossu-imagines]

For day 3 and rhe y/n stuff:

"I know, I know, you said no kids, but-" and y/n holds up a cute animal fluffball that makes the cutest noise.

"Look at them! They're adorable!"

Aka how would the khr characters who dont want kids react to their partner bringing home an animal to take care for? and what animal would win them over most likely if at all?

This was a great ask, and I had a lot of fun mulling it over! Thank you for sending it in and I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons! Please note that this is by no means all the KHR characters I see as being child-free, but just the ones who I formed solid headcanons for.

Shamal would probably coo over how cute his partner was being first and foremost. Like, his partner looks so much cuter than the animal, and how can he refuse them anything when they look so adorable asking him? He probably wouldn’t even notice what type of animal it was at first. Afterwards, I could see him being easily annoyed at any high-maintenance or noisy sort of animal, and I can’t see him taking a lot of responsibility for it, since to him it will be his partner’s pet and not his, but other than that, he doesn’t actively hate the animal or anything and might like it enough. It’s more or less that he’ll enjoy how happy the pet makes his partner though than any enjoyment out of having a pet in the home.

Chikusa wouldn’t be swayed, no matter how cute the animal is. He’s not a child person and he’s not a pet person. He doesn’t want the responsibility of completely taking care of any other living thing. Hell, he doesn’t even want to keep a plant because it’s too much extra responsibility and work. He’d absolutely refuse keeping the pet, even if his partner promised to do all the work and take care of it entirely, because he knows that that is not how things would turn out in the long term and because his life and his partner’s life are so intertwined, that he would be expected to tolerate and interact and to some extent take care of the animal and he’s firm on not doing any of that. If they’re that insistent on a pet, Chikusa would calmly but firmly remind them of Ken’s existence.

Gokudera would definitely act annoyed, but it’s a lot more of an act than him being truly upset. Honestly, he’s more than intelligent enough to know that there’s a huge, huge difference between raising a human child and having a pet that you’re responsible for taking care of. I will say that, if the animal is a dog or a scorpion, I do see him having more of a genuinely upset reaction than most other animals, just because he’s really not a fan of either of those animals and he’d tell his partner that if they insisted on keeping it, he wouldn’t be helping with it. Honestly, he’d probably say that with any animal, but with other animals, Gokudera would honestly end up being the one to spoil the animal most (while still claiming it’s not his pet and he doesn’t care about it), while with dogs and scorpions, he actually sticks entirely to his word and has zero interest in doing anything for it.

Lambo actually really likes pets and he’ll have had several with his partner. The problem is that Lambo is only really good for pets for the first little bit. He gets really excited for them, really wants them, can’t wait to be a pet parent with his partner. He’ll dote on their pet for the first couple months, until the new is completely worn out, and then he pretty much loses any interest in the animal, and it becomes one of his partner’s chores and responsibilities to take care of the animals. Honestly, Lambo’s partner would normally be the one refusing Lambo any more pets, because he doesn’t take care of the ones they have, so the fact that they brought one home and begged him to let them keep it would really be a surprise to him, but not one he’d complain about.

Let’s be real – Hibari’s an animal person. He can’t stand most people and he doesn’t want to be tied down to another living person, which is why being child-free and in a very, very independent romantic relationship is important to him. This is not going to be something that really drastically changes much as he ages. Animals though? Animals he can get behind and he’d have no problem with a new animal being brought into any residence he might share part-time with a partner, though he does expect the majority of the care of the pet to fall onto his partner, since it is their pet and they are the one who brought it home, much like he’d take the majority of the care of his birds, for example.

With Belphegor, not going to lie and not going to hold back…he’s completely against the idea and if his partner went against his wishes, there’s a very high chance, given his mood at the time, that the animal in question would be dead very quickly. Bel can go through his moods, but overall, he’s very, very selfish and if he doesn’t come up with an idea or doesn’t see the immediate appeal in it, he’s against something. And he can go through moods where he does feel almost uncomfortably possessive of his partner and doesn’t want them to look at, spend time with or on, or acknowledge anything but Bel himself. And a pet is time-consuming, something that will take his partner’s time and attention away from him, so it’s definitely not going to be something Bel is going to tolerate.

[xxsycamore]

Dec. 7 for Gilbert and Belle then, pls. Thank you! ^^

Happy Birthday to Gilbert! This is also my first time writing for him. I still know very little about him, hope I did him justice. Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it, happy holidays!

Special tag for @gilbertvonobsidian​. His works were a great source of inspiration for this story as well as a reference. Definitely do check moons works if you’re a Gilbert simp! 

A treaty of peace has been signed between the kingdoms of Rhodolite and Obsidian, albeit significantly in the favor of the latter. Belle is sent to personally extend greetings to Gilbert Von Obsidian, now King of Obsidian. She is not yet aware that one of the gifts she is to offer, is in fact, herself.

Felicitations for the Obsidianite King [ GILBERT X MC SMUT ]

Rating: E

Word count: 1,496

Tags:     Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Secret Relationship; Porn With Plot; Mutual Pining; Slight Hate Sex; Vaginal Sex; Creampie

Check my masterlist here! You can also find all my works on AO3 under user xsycamore.  In my profile you can find my Ko-fi if you would like to support me!

Part of ‘Tis the Season for Smut 2.0 Content Creation Challenge, hosted by @voltage-vixen  [DAY 1] [DAY 2] [DAY 3] [DAY 4] [DAY 5] [DAY 6]

DAY 7 - “You’re the only gift I plan on unwrapping tonight.”

A cold shiver runs through Belle's core, the sound of her own steps sounding distant, as if not her own. She has her eyes glued to the center of the room where a man sits, dressed in black from head to toe, even if she wishes to look away. His demeanor is all that hers is not - confident, relaxed. Beckoning.

He gives his wine glass a small sway - appearing to be more interested in the swirl of the rich red liquid than the view in front of him, but with a smile nonetheless. It's then that the woman approaching him steals his attention. She is still fairly far away, but his crimson eye scans her expression masterfully, no more than a couple of seconds enough for him to judge her character. Oh, he's been looking forward to this meeting.

The background noise of courtiers hurriedly carrying various chests and treasures inside the room soon dies down as they stand in a neat line, bowing their heads. Gilbert raises a hand, letting them know that they're free to take their leave.

In the room remain only Belle and him now, enveloping the room into an air of tension. She is aware that she is meant to be the one to break the silence first, and she gulps down discretely to prepare a firm tone.

"From the kingdom of Rhodolite, I present Your Majesty with a modest offering of holiday gifts and goods from our land to commemorate both the upcoming Christmas season and Your Majesty's birthday. May you find our gifts to your liking as you unwrap them."

Gilbert waits patiently for her to finish her speech, fighting the urge to strip her off her formalities seeing that she puts so much effort. As the current king, he finds something entertaining about being addressed as such, in front of Belle no less. After all, they have their own little history together that shouldn't be swept under the rug just because of a fleeting piece of paper that has recently come to existence. Namely, the treaty of peace between the two countries that put an end to the war. Even if it tips significantly in Obsidian's favor.

"Why don't you come closer, Belle?"

Still lowered in a curtsy, Belle allows the act of biting on her bottom lip thinking that it would stay hidden from the man's eye. She is wrong. Either way she approaches as per his request, ignoring his mocking grin.

Making the mistake to get at arm's length, the breath hitches in her chest as her wrist is harshly grabbed and pulled, making her crash her weight down on him. Gilbert effortlessly maneuvers her into his lap despite her protests and secures an arm around her waist.

"Shh. Be good for me."

It's hardly a matter of being good, when she finds herself in the last place she is supposed to be. The sign on the treaty means nothing as the enemy remains an enemy. That's what she tells herself, maintaining a sharp gaze at Gilbert who she is suddenly seeing up close. Very close.

"You can relax. No one will be able to see what the so-called Rhodolitian Belle is up to behind those closed doors."

The seduction in his tone resembles more nails against a chalkboard than anything, if Belle has to make something out of it. He is trying to trick her into thinking that this is something she wants. Something she's wanted for a long time. The taste of it still familiar on the tip of her tongue that refuses time and time again to wrap around a single word.

"I'm not here for this."

Gilbert simply smiles, backside leaned fully in the luxurious sofa as he admires the arch of her eyebrows expressing something that she can hardly recognize in herself.

"Yes you are."

He nods his head matter-of-factly, keeping his tone to a whisper and holding her gaze.

"They sent you here personally. Why do you think, is that?"

His single crimson eye glimmers a tad more with danger, gloved finger snaking its way under her chin to tilt it his way. He sits up, bringing his face into the crook of her neck, breath fanning over the tiny hairs that escaped her neat updo.

“You’re the only gift I plan on unwrapping tonight.”

This time it's her eyes that widen, as shock spirals thought her. Gilbert Von Obsidian is going to have his way with her, right here in his kingdom that she only meant to visit for political purposes.

And she is going to love every second of it.

It's like he can smell her arousal, a beast by nature, the grin on his face only deepens. One hand patting over her bottom, Gilbert whispers sweet nothings in her ear as if to convince her to throw away the rest of her composure and give in to his touches. With her legs on each side of his lap now, Belle can sense how easy it is to press against him closer, to feel his touch all over the places she wants him to touch her. Her pelvis rubs against the front of his pants in a manner that is surely irritating for both of them. For a second, she feels like the cruel one.

She could easily spit out the profanity that comes to mind, an endless string of Take me, Fuck me already, Show me what I've been missing, or she could bite her tongue and remain with dignity. The two versions are both alluring but not as the sight of said Gilbert Von Obsidian ravishing her exposed cleavage with wet kisses and swirls of his tongue. Oh, he's been missing her too. At least that's what the bulge in his pants is telling her.

Gilbert finds the ties of her dress and tugs them undone slowly, entertaining the thought that the additional ribbons holding her robes together are meant to resemble opening a gift. Just as he has claimed to be his intention, he takes his sweet time peeling off each layer, until she is flushed and naked in his arms, ready for the taking.

At this point there is no better place for her trembling hands to occupy than his shoulders, prepared to use them for lavage to fuck herself on his cock should he place her on it. Thought she might rather demand to be used like the gift she is meant to be, laid down gracefully and receiving his thrusts. As predicted, Gilbert calls the shots. He plunges his cock inside, masking his moan with a chuckle and a remark of how tightly her walls are sucking him in. In reply, her nails bite tiny crescents in his shoulderblades, urging him to go faster, harder. She doesn't want to drag this on, feeling the pleasure coil in her belly in an impatient fashion. This and, because it's hardly the time or the place. It will never be, anyway. Not with him.

Gilbert stills his hips, unamused by her rushed ministrations and taking it upon himself to slow things down. He guides her to fall down softly on his cock, dragging her up and then down again and setting a pace of his own. Belle is not so sure if he is doing it for the sake of his own pleasure of rather just to tease. She figures going along with it should be good for the time being as surely Gilbert has his own limits.

Fully leaned back in his seat again, Gilbert watches the way she towers over him slightly despite how small he probably is making her feel. His cock twitches inside her, indicating of his own fascination with their act, and Belle whines out at the feeling. At the back of her mind she scolds herself for moaning like a cheap whore on his royal cock, not for the sake of his reputation but for her own, moreso when she purports a certain dignity. Oh, but the slow drag of his cock is too good - swollen with approaching climax and hitting all the right spots to make her fall into the void first. And that's exactly what happens.

With another illicit moan that she tries not to convey his name, Belle throws her head back and bucks her hips pleading for more friction. Gilbert decides to be good and give her some, in her high - he slams her bottom on his cock, reaching impossibly deep inside her - and stills there, as his own culmination finds him. Thick spurts of come shot up her insides and Belle opens her eyes wide, tears of pleasure collecting in the corners. The only coherent thought in her well-fucked mind is the echo of the realization that it's the Obsidianite King that is filling her to the brim with his cum right now.

The rest is electricity running through her veins and the heat of her body, nude like a freshly unwrapped birthday gift.

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[spacemilkies]

the fault in our ashes (1/?)

two rqst: how would jason from house of ashes react to falling in love with his coworker he just met yesterday after all the events of hoa? like, maybe reader has saved his life a few times and he falls in love. how would he respond to his feelings? i love your work! especially your last jason one ❤️

a|n//: just a hint of soulmate au to break canon. will probably be 3 parts

jason didn’t believe in fairytales, certainly not those hair-brained love stories about finding the one. sure, soulmates exist but not for everyone. the bold mark ingrained on his skin was just another reminder of how life got to shit in his cheerios.

he’d been lucky enough just to make it through high school (just barely), somehow get through basic training to become a lieutenant. finding his soulmate was just a pipe dream. and but not for him.

he was a marine.

semper fi and all that bullshit.

fuck women and shoot guns.

he’d make his momma proud in his grave.

jason decided upon the moment your feet touched the front line, that he didn’t like you. he already had a lot of hard feelings about typical pencil pushers. and here you were, looking out of place with your spotless uniform, not a spec of wear or tear. he could have sworn he’d seen the tag blowing in the wind.

it was a shame because you had such a pretty face. had he met you in a bar, more conversation could be had. but instead fate had you flying on the same bird as the colonel ready to shit on another day of his.

he still put on god best smile, sweet ole country boy with a lot of charm after he shook hands with the colonel. he’d forget your name before the start of the briefing.

dr. stokes was more his stride, fiery from the way her gaze challenged him then her mouth. as he circled the ballroom behind her, he thought about all the things he could do more than just spin her ‘round a little.

he’d been so swept in his thoughts, he’d failed to notice how you’d positioned yourself in front of him to gain his attention. jason didn’t mean to be rude, but he could call himself a bit snappy as he gruffly nodded his head in acknowledgment. at the end of the day, you ranked lower. it wasn’t personal.

was the timid act for real or just a sign of nervousness? he couldn’t help but be distracted by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, lips rambling words above his comprehension.

oh shit, we’re you asking him something?

“what ?”

jason almost missed it. that brief pinch of annoyance in your brow before you reluctantly repeated yourself. all respect despite your simmering frustration. unlike him though, you didn’t have the rank to act freely among your superiors.

“requesting permission to restock supplies in your ammunition room.”

jason trained to be perceptive. certainly heard well enough despite the amount of IED close calls. which still left no reason for why someone with a pressed suit was asking for ammunition.

“you don’t need to worry about that. you’ve got some of the best trained marines watching your back. “ he didn’t pay enough attention to your role to know exactly what you were on the ground for but given colonel king had his pair ready house satellite poarrier house and dr. stokes was a glorified IT, your usefulness was dwindling.

your lip pulled back into the beginnings of a snarl, restrained but very much over his shit. and jason had to admit it gave him a bit of a thrill. you were impressively polite when you requested access all the same. and jason with no legit reason to deny had no choice but to turn you over to merwin. equally annoyed but agreeable to prospect was trailing just far enough behind to watch your hips sway.

jason snorts as he turns to prepare his own pack. It was going to be a very long day.

with his back turned to his gear, he’s blind to the awe struck look on his technician’s face as you stride confidently from the gun shack.

fitting everyone in the chopper was an adventurous task, it seemed to just be one person too many. though jason thought excluding three might add some necessary foot room.

hell why go into battle if you can’t at least ride first class? there were three choppers in route.

merwin, ever the opportunist, gave everyone equal chances to sit in his lap; best seat in the house. yet it was over his knee that your leg was nearly thrown over. pressed so tight together, something had to give and he had no choice but to welcome the heat of you.

typically when he had a leg over him, he had it pressed at his waist but he had this strange inclination that you might be able to get them over his shoulder-

coughing, jason drew your attention (scowl). right, you still weren’t best friends. shame. he guestured to your fucking briefcase- jesus.

“did you-uh get what you needed. “

shit. why did you look so goddamn hot with that ever present snarl he’d imprinted on you. was this some kind of kink? he had to be chasing something to be this hell bent on finding new ways to annoy you.

what was he, in kindergarten?

you kept your face trained forward, which was fine he could work with that, you had a nice side profile.

“merwin was very helpful in my needs. “

jason was grateful, for both of your benefit, the old man didn’t hear you. those were very gracious words for a pervert who could take them a country mile.

hell he could have been helpful. plenty of tables in the store room to bend-

jason abruptly stood, no doubt rudely dislodging your leg as he jumped at the opportunity to check on his friend. neither of them seemed to have their head in the right place.

he subconsciously scratches at the tattoo on his bicep, suddenly drawn to his birth mark masked by black ink.

when was the last time he’d even acknowledged the old curse?

definitely had too much on his mind.

flying closer to the landing zone, jason had to force himself to heed to the commands of a foreign commander. it still didn’t feel right to have reigns just snatched from rachel’s hands, husband or not.

which was another shitfest in itself. so intrinsically incompatible that fate decided to put them together. there was no way they weren’t soulmates.

just like his old man and ma.

“you’ll stay in the air, i’ll need my best eyes in the sky.”

so close, jason could miss the way you perked at the words. naturally, you’d be a teachers pet, plenty of desks to set apples on.

your leg knocked unkindly against his as you uncrossed it after opting to fold in on yourself after his departure to check on nick. he didn’t take it personally.

with nothing else to look at, jason found himself watching out of the corner of his eye as you unbuckled your case. you probably had a drone in there. another techy nerd like the rest.

but instead of a typical aerial device, jason is greeted to the sight of one of the most beautiful snipers he’d ever seen tucked neatly in the case. It was disgustingly uniform but equally impressive.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a little hot around the collar watching you assemble it almost blindly.

“only fire on command, if you can help it. i trust you with decisive measures.”

across from him, clarice pooped her gum, snapping him out of his revere. he could feel her smug grin.

well damn.

things occurred much like he expected. well not entirely. jason figured nothing good could come from the colonel taking control.

so a bust? yeah saw that coming.

but at least it was a drug bust. the DEA was getting a little bored anyway. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a little hot around the collar watching you assemble it almost blindly.

jason pressed two fingers to his ear, ready to call for a final sweep when your voice crackled over the radio.

“dropkick, we’ve got foxes in the bushes!”

and then it all went to shit.

jason felt the tendrils of fear grappling at his throat when the first chopper was grounded in a fiery bloom. he was already jogging into action, falling under cover but were-

“they’re in the mountains two o’ clock from your position. small squadron, counting ten.”

jason exhaled a sigh of relief as he fired the first shot.

so maybe it wasn’t a complete bust. they had to be protecting something, right? that or just the crippling remains from the lost war.

either way, he was already two soliders down with no weapons in sight. he felt exposed advancing without nick at his back, but hopefully he had joey carted somewhere safe. the last thing he needed was to lose the kid too.

gun snapping to the cowering figure trembling against the barrel, jason barked a harsh order that was obviously ignored as the man stumbled to escape. a flash of headphones and blood kept his finger off the trigger as his shoulder sagged in defeat. he really needed a vacation.

jason stiffened at your shout of alarm, eyes darting the the shadow at his six. two shots might fire but at least it would end in one dead iraqi.

turning carefully at the accented cease of fire, he carefully lowered his gun, maintaining eye contact until he couldn’t.

this time he knew it was your helicopter hurdling towards the earth, voice urgent with thinly veiled panic. he could only hope he hadn’t lost another solider as the ground crumbled beneath him.

[newvegascowboy]

i think deacon’s idle voice lines reveal a lot more about him as a person than anything he says during affinity conversations, and here’s why

get ready for a long meta post about deacon that nobody asked for, because we’re deep diving today.

okay. so Deacon’s a liar, everybody knows this. He tells you straight up that he does and WILL lie to you, and will praise you if you call him out, but i think his idle voice lines are more honest about himself than he would have you believe. 

Personal Life

i first noticed stuff he says in idle conversations when we were taking rad damage and he said, “Great. I didn’t need to have more children.” (0:58 for anyone interested) and “Guess there won’t be any little Deacons scurrying around in the future.” The above video doesn’t include it, but I have heard him say it in game. Unfortunately, I can’t go digging around in the game files to find it, so you might have to take that one at my word! 

I always take his affinity conversations with a grain of salt because, well, it’s Deacon, but given how angry and upset with a dismissive Sole Survivor he becomes, I’m willing to give him a little bit of leeway and believe that Barbara either was or is real, and she’s no longer in his life. Plus, given what he says about them “trying for kids”? It’s not unreasonable to think that he has or had children. If he ever did, they’re not in his life anymore either. 

(the reproductive ability of synths is debated. i couldn’t actually find any information on the fallout wiki, but there were a few forums discussing the topic where the general consensus seemed to be “no”, but if synths are 100% biologically human, then i don’t see why they technically couldn’t. it’s kind of a YMMV thing.) 

Plus, it’s pretty consistent that he gets freaked out when up in high places. (:44) here to listen to his voice lines about being up in the quarry, and here to listen to his dialogue during the Railroad aligned quest Red Glare. Safe to say this man is honestly afraid of heights. 

"Alright. You got me up here... let's go down. Now?"

At the top of Trinity Tower. 

The Railroad

Not going to spend a lot of time on this, since his voice lines about it are minimal, but it is of note. 

Game files and terminal entries hint at Desdemona believing that Deacon is “John D”, the sole survivor of an attack on the Railroad back in 2266. Post 2273, there is no more mention about “John D”. Admittedly, this is pretty weak evidence considering it’s in-game conjecture, but Deacon mentions knowing Desdemona as a green recruit, finding it hard to take her seriously at times.

Even if his claim about being the real leader of the Railroad is bullshit, he’s obviously one of the eldest members of the Railroad, confirmed membership going back at least 12 years to 2275. He could very well be the oldest surviving member of the Railroad. 

Hidden Depths

this one is pretty well known, so I’m not going to say too much on it either. 

the man knows a lot of stuff about the pre war world! Don’t know why! He never offers any reason for why he’s so familiar with the pre war world. It’s very clear that he either had a much, much more thorough education than most Wastelanders, or he was around people who did. University Point was a pretty major settlement until the Institute wiped it out, so I suppose it’s possible that he could’ve been schooled there, but I find it unlikely. He never makes any mention of his childhood other than an obvious joke where he says, “I grew up just over there. Lot of fond memories by that...thing.”  (this link is a compilation of voice lines, so it may take a moment to get there.) 

Obviously there’s the famous Proust line, indicating he’s pretty well read, though, oddly enough, he doesn’t have anything to say about Henry David Thoreau’s cabin! You’d think he would. In addition to Proust, he has the combat voice line, “Insert something Shakespearean about your death and inevitable doom here,” indicating he’s familiar with Shakespeare. 

He also mentions knowing and wanting a talk radio show. I mean, the Charles River Trio exists, but it’s a stretch to call that a talk radio show. He also mentions having read “a few textbooks” and asks if we were planning on an invasion of mathletes. This hints at nothing, but i do think it’s funny that he knows the word mathlete, but refers to pre-war objects as gizmos. 

Involvement in other games

It’s canon that Deacon has been to the Capital Wasteland, and based on his dialogue, may have been VERY involved in the goings on there. 

The events of Fallout 3 take place in 2277. The wiki tells us that sometime in 2275, Deacon was kicked out of the railroad by then-leader Pinky Thompson because Pinky was "sick of the lying, face-changing son of a bitch." So maybe unlikely, but very possible for Deacon to have been in the Capital Wasteland during the entirety of the events of Fallout 3. Though this pretty much kills the idea that Deacon was the Lone Wanderer, that’s a headcanon i love and probably one that I want to do something with in the future. 

He also seems to have quite a history with the Brotherhood of Steel and seems familiar with them and their actions in the Capital Wasteland, going to far as to say that they did good work in the Capital. Not only that, but he mentions “Code Violet”, part of Harkness’ override code from Fallout 3. It’s possible that Deacon could’ve been a runner for escaped synths heading for the Capital Wasteland sometime around 2277, which could be why he’s so knowledgeable about Capital-era Brotherhood and President Eden. 

Deacon talks about winning something from Robert House in a poker game while chatting with Deezer in Covenant. (1:26) Also interesting to note - he mentions “Being a soldier in the west” (17:43) at one point, hinting to possible involvement with the NCR (or possibly with the Western chapter of the Brotherhood). 

of course it’s possible that Deacon is bullshitting. He’s a liar. even if he doesn’t have a “reason” to lie, that doesn’t make every random word that comes out of his mouth the truth. simply - this man knows a lot. Knows things that, arguably, he shouldn’t or would be very hard for him to learn without some dedicated poking around. 

in conclusion? 

is there more? most definitely. what does this mean? well...not really anything. part of why i believe that his idle voice lines are more truthful than anything he says during his affinity conversations is because during those conversations, a lot of the time, he’s lying to try and prove a point. 

"But I had a point here. A lesson, if you will. There're other organizations out there. And, in time, I'm sure they're going to spoon-feed you their own patented form of bullshit. Ignore the verbage and look at what they're doing. What they're asking you to do. What sort of world they'd have you build and how they're going to pay for it."

I believe a lot of Deacon’s lies are meant for himself. To run from himself, to comfort himself, or simply because he doesn’t want to be affiliated with the man he was when he was younger. To me, his idle lines are him “thinking out loud”. Grumbling because the Sole Survivor dragged him into an irradiated hell hole, or freaked out because they’re standing on top of Trinity Tower and by god, he can feel the building swaying. 

Maybe his honesty is completely on accident. Maybe he’s just hinting at a personal life with a max affinity Sole Survivor because this person is his best friend and despite everything he’s ever tried to teach himself, he trusts this person. Or maybe it isn’t honesty at all, and he’s just bullshitting to bullshit. It’s impossible to know for sure. 

Either way, we’ll never truly know the real Deacon. 

[thegracelessfaceless]

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

[fluffi]

SARCOLINE SUNSET I: WELCOME HOME, OUTSIDER :: SOOBIN

pairing: soobin x gn!reader, platonic!ot5 x gn!reader genre: fluff, some subjective angst, bits of humor, enemies-to-lovers, childhood friends word count: 4002 event: #summerscape for @kpopscape credit: @enha-woodzies​ for making the gfx for this series! show her some love <3 author’s note: i accidentally deleted this post so here is a rushed reupload. it might not be as good as the original because it isnt proof read as well but i still hope the algorithm picks it up, maybe this’ll be good for the post. Also, the second part will be coming out in 15 days. warnings: people disappearing, mentions of burning and fire (further warnings will be released in the next parts as the story gets darker)

THIS STORY IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT DICTATE JAY OR NI-KI’S PERSONAL LIVES AND/OR FAMILY.

part two ->

The blonde stared up at an intricately designed structure in awe, walking forward to touch the sides of it and running his calloused hands up and down its rusted carved wedges. It seemed oddly cliche and unrealistic, but he could feel its story. Every touch of the ceramic pillar provided him with emotion that he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The sun hadn’t set yet, but he could make out the faint reflection of it settling in the background. The huge pine trees around him were making conversation with each other; their faint whispers and rustles providing peace to his veins.

So entranced in the scenery of such a mystical place, he forgot to watch out for his younger peer. Kicking back into his senses, he nervously called out, “Riki! You there?” His voice, usually strong and boisterous, laced fear today.

“Don’t worry about me Jay, I’m right behind you. Just climbing this fence..and..there!” Riki let out a grunt as he jumped onto the soft grass, looking at his older friend with an innocent grin.

At the sight of his buddy, Jay visibly loosened. It was clear that he didn’t feel safe in this environment, yet felt entranced to it in some way. Riki caught up to him in a quick jog before standing next to Jay, in awe at the magnificent view that they were spectating for the first and possibly last time.

“Is this…the place you were talking about?” Riki was out of breath from running after his peer. He pats the grassy patch below him before slumping onto it, crossing his legs afterward.

Jay took a seat next to him, setting his canvas satchel and leather jacket next to him. “According to the maps and books, this is the right spot. I just want to see if the myth is true.”

Riki clapped his hands in excitement and turned to face Jay. “We’re staying till the sun sets right? I want to see what the carousel looks like at night! This structure is so fascinating. It must be beautiful out here at night.”

“No, we’re walking back as soon as the sun goes down. I do not want to risk being out here at night. People have disappeared from staying too long and I wouldn’t want to worry your mother.”

Riki visibly slumped and turned back in time to see the last drop of orange dip. It was quiet for a while. The singing birds stopped humming their soulful tunes, yet the whispering trees grew louder, their inaudible gossip echoing in the ears of the two boys.

At nine at night, Riki’s mother would call Jay, heeding no response. She would do the same for his parents and his friends. The only piece of information they could provide was that Jay had brought Riki, in his words, to “a magical place”. With no other vital details they could draw from their son’s peers, Jay and Riki’s family agree to call the local police, reporting two missing people: two minors, one last seen in a brown leather jacket, and a taller one tailing alongside him. Both their hairs were dyed in a striking shade of blonde.

Summer’s heat-blasted onto your skin as soon as you stepped out of your sleek white Toyota. It was good to be back, you supposed. Although it was something that not many people would fawn over, you were ecstatic to be home in town.

Leaving at the mere age of sixteen wasn’t easy. After your parents decided that you were too good for a mediocre high school where people cared more about their body count than grade count, they immediately sent you off to a prestigious boarding school in the big city. You were given three days to pack and say goodbye to your friends, the rest of your family, your world. As excited as you were to study in the evolutionary epicenter of technology, you didn’t like how you had almost no say in this decision.

You didn’t return home from high school even after four years of studying at that mentally draining institution. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to come back, you were just so accustomed to life in the big city that it seemed pointless to return to square one. With the rest of the world finally in your grip (or so you thought), you enrolled in a highly expensive university and received a full-ride scholarship.

Perhaps that was your breaking point. Piles of work that could never be cleared must’ve got to your head. No one out there seemed to care about your mental health and well-being. The only reason you were allowed to take a break from the university and return was because of your constant breakdowns that your lecturers called “distracting” and “unethical”. You were hoping that this drop-by in town would give you a physical and mental cleanse.

There was no place as hot as home, from where you had been. The blazing sun scorched onto the road. Carrying baggage by itself was already hard enough, but this heat was immensely torturing. You struggled to carry your belongings while trying to close the car boot at the same time. Oh, a pity. You had just returned home and you were slowly turning into a bundle of disorganization, unlike your previous methodical attitude.

“Need a hand?” A familiar suede voice behind your shoulder sounded like music to your ears as you dropped all of your luggage and turned back to see…

“Taehyun!” Child best friend number one. You were looking at a once-innocent boy with doe eyes who had matured into a fine young man. His hair was dyed platinum blonde and, although younger than you, possessed a flair that was completely unlike his past self. His facial features were more prominent than ever and you wondered if all of your friends had developed as well as he had.

You locked your arms around his neck and embraced him as he took your baggage from you.

“You’re so tall now!” You gasped in awe and looked him up and down.

“Of course I am! A boy has to grow, doesn’t he?”

Speak of the devil(s), four people tagged behind Taehyun, waiting for you to notice their presence. All of them were just as tall (if not taller) than your blonde friend and stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t just the height, their hair was also in very...exciting colors.

“Can’t believe you forgot about us just for Taehyun.” Ah, that nasal voice was so recognizable. Choi Yeonjun, second-best friend. You cherished him like he was your secret weapon, a power waiting to be unleashed into your industrial world. Although older than Taehyun, they seemed to be the same height now. You couldn’t tell because his new neon pink hair was waxed slick and puffy which made him look a teensy bit taller than his younger friend. You had seen him around on social media and he was a hair-changing chameleon.

Alongside Yeonjun was Hueningkai, better known as Kai in the friend group. He was the youngest one, constantly babied and spoiled, you could say. He was probably influenced by the rest of his friends too, his hair now in a mossy shade of blonde. 

Poor Yeonjun, you completely disregarded his existence and dashed over to Kai instead, eagerly standing next to him to compare heights. The kid had grown so much, you couldn’t tell if you were contented that he was now taller than you or dejected that you had missed so much when you weren’t around.

“Hey, wait up!” Someone from behind called. With Hueningkai and Yeonjun blocking your view you couldn’t see who that one person walking next to Choi Beomgyu was.

Beomgyu, the last friend who joined the friend group. He was always a comedian and never failed to make your day. Although, he didn’t seem so smiley anymore. You figured that it was school stress and adulting getting the best of him. We all had those days; you regrettably knew them like you knew the back of your hand . Unlike the rest of his friends, Beomgyu’s hair was kept in a natural shade of ivory brown. He had never been swayed by the rest of the crowd.

There were so many things to do, so many people to see. You had missed out on most of your growing: having fun with friends, staying up late at night just to watch the stars, dancing on your balcony. You had missed the people too. The town felt different from when you had left it.

“Soobin! Don’t just stand behind, meet our friend! They just returned from the city, right?” Beomgyu ran over to you before giving you a little squeeze.

Who’s Soobin?

“Hey, I’m Choi Soobin. Twenty-one this year. I moved here a few years ago. You must have left before I showed up.” A simple and concise introduction from the blue-haired man. Maybe he was the root of this hair-dyeing trend in town (pun very much intended), as well as the height trend since he was just as tall, if not taller than the rest of the boys.

You briefly introduced yourself but that was about it. You didn’t know how to create small talk, nonetheless with someone completely unfamiliar to you.

Later that day, you wondered if he had replaced you, become another guardian in the friend group. As one of the oldest, you and Yeonjun were always known as the parents of your three “kids”, but Soobin seemed to take care of them equally well. Throughout the day, you watched his every action, how he helped Beomgyu with homework, how he styled Kai’s hair, how he treated Taehyun to his favorite meal, exactly like what you did when you were still around. For once, you felt like the outsider.

Marshmallow Night had always been a tradition here. It was a five-of-you kind of thing, well, the six-of-you now. It had always been the go-to celebration whenever one of you hit a milestone, or was just held for fun. The days of joy where the only thing you had to worry about was whether your smores were burnt.

It had changed a lot over the years, you guys would add some new events to it and remove the ones you guys outgrew, like hopscotch.

You had missed most of its evolution.

Instead of being the main catalyst for today’s event, you resorted to sitting at the side as Soobin took the lead, carrying tables back and forth as well as setting up the fire in a method that the five of you had never used.

Oh, how much you loathed him. You hated his innocent-looking face that spurred out words of authority and boastfulness. You couldn’t stand how he looked so obnoxious with his bright blue hair, his dark brown eyes that held an impeccable gleam. He looked so cheeky, so mean, and worst of all, he had made all of your friends convert to mini spawns of him. Even Yeonjun, the oldest member, no longer felt like the Choi Yeonjun you once knew.

If you could, you would throw him out of your hometown, except that you seemed to be the outsider here. Anyone who walked past would see five people sitting on a huge log, helping each other light marshmallows and biscuits. They would barely notice the one person hunched over on the other side, sitting on the ground, eyes dazed and uninterested.

Occasionally one of the boys would call out to you, either hand you a s’more or ask if you were alright, to which you responded, “I’m alright! Don’t worry about me, I’m having fun.”

Anyone could also see that you weren’t in the zone, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment and be a party pooper. You ended up spending most of the time scrolling on your phone, checking school emails, and such. It didn’t feel like you were back home, it felt like you were on a vacation, on your own.

The commotion had died down, for the most part. Everyone else was either discussing school gossip in hushed voices or making the most of use of their electronic device. You were tempted to join the little heated conversation that Soobin and Beomgyu were having, but you didn’t know who this ‘Chaeyeon’ girl was and either way, you wouldn’t want to voluntarily speak to Choi Soobin.

It wasn’t long before both of them went to do something else, the only sound prevalent being the wood crackling from the bonfire and the occasional chirp of evening birds.

It was a loud, sucked-in breath that drew the attention of everyone, eyes pinned onto the instigator.

Choi Soobin, once again disrupting the peace of this curated environment. He ducked his head in apology and you were about to return to your world when Kai’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Why did you just do that?” His booming voice resounded over everyone else.

You weren’t going to lie, you were curious too. It wasn’t every day you heard a gasp like that.

Soobin looked back up, eyes wide and awake. He was excited about something but seemed to be masking it for the sake of..suspense?

“Okay. You guys know Yongsam Park right?” He put his phone down and tapped his hands on his thighs in a state of urgency.

Now that statement got everyone’s attention. “It’s the flower place outside our town, everyone passes it when they enter. Of course we would know where the place is. Why are you so adamant about it?” Taehyun inquired.

“Well, have any of you gone inside the park? Or near the landmark in general?”

“No. Why would we? There’s nothing to do there than to take pictures of boring flower statues.” You stated.

“See. You guys don’t know anything about the place.” He smirked tilting his head upwards and proudly crossing his arms.

“Could you cut to the chase and tell us what it is already?” Thank Yeonjun for his smart, impatient mouth.

Soobin didn’t answer and merely flipped his phone so you could see whatever was on it. The only words you could make out were “Yongsam...missing...carnival” and something related to the park before he turned it back, away from your view.

“You can’t just say that we don’t know anything about this place then proceed to give us nothing about it.” You rolled your eyes, disinterested in the conversation once again.

“Fine. I’ll send it to you.” Soobin rolled his eyes back as four of the other boys snickered. They loved seeing the two of you bicker.

In courtesy of Beomgyu who gave Soobin your number (without your consent), you received a news article and skimmed through it with eager eyes:

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

YONGSAM PARK CURRENTLY UNDER INVESTIGATION, AUTHORITIES SAY 3 days ago

What’s the deal with Yongsam Park? Insiders say that, although bland and boring, Yongsam Park is currently under high-level investigation for the disappearance of a few citizens. The flower-decorated park is the perfect place to take Instagram-worthy pictures and is quite harmless in itself, so visitors were shocked to arrive at the park only to find it surrounded by heaps of yellow tape.

Yongsam Park was developed by Kim Yongsam, director of My Flowers, a multi-million florist franchise that has now spread to Japan and Taiwan. In a 2015 Interview with the millionaire, he mentioned that he had created the park in the inspiration of the rising ootd picture trend, also known as the outfit-of-the-day trend, which he had initially discovered from his teen daughter. 

“I wanted to create a welcoming park for people of all ages, but I couldn’t find a suitable place to do it without the budget being drastically high. In the end, my team and I found an abandoned site and decided to build a simple structure with lower costs up there. Props to my team for the discovery of this landmark. The scenery there, especially in the evening, is stunning .” He stated in the 2015 interview with Soup Magazine.

What’s the abandoned site? With the evidence that is still standing, Yongsam Park is rumored to have previously been a carnival. Said evidence is a worn-down carousel in the back of the park, along with piles of other burnt carnival decoration and equipment. With research, Yongsam Park’s site may have once been an abandoned carnival that perished from an unknown wildfire. This may have been the primary cause of the drought that ensued in the 80s, leaving only a carousel and ashes behind. When questioned, Mr. Kim said that he had decided to leave the carousel standing behind the park due because he felt ‘drawn by its alluring glow’, as quoted.

Investigators and the local police have only enclosed the flower section of Yongsam Park because that was where the victims were spotted. They believe that disappearances took place there and are currently trying to find evidence to back up their stance. Most of this new information is not known to the public, however, Kim and his team are trying to keep it that way. The current disappearance count is seven people, the most recent case being two high-schoolers.

The carousel is still open and does not require a visitor ticket, but visitors are advised to take precautions and leave before the sun sets.

RELATED

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

FAMILY OF TOURISTS DISAPPEAR AT YONGSAM PARK, INSIDERS SAY THIS IS THE SECOND CASE OF DISAPPEARANCE HERE 2 weeks ago

JAPANESE COUPLE DISAPPEAR AT FLOWER PARK, NETIZENS CALL THE NEWS A POLITICAL DISTRACTION 3 weeks ago

“Are you seriously...telling us...that we should visit a place where people have been kidnapped?” Yeonjun gawked. “Dude, that’s so stupid. What if we die or something?”

“Don’t say that! I was just curious if you guys wanted to go since it’s so near and since your old friend is back home.”

“It’s a dumb move. I’m not risking my life just so I can celebrate the return of my friend. Not worth it.” Beomgyu huffed.

“Hey! You’re worth it, right?” Soobin glanced at you, waiting for a response.

He was...defending you? His ulterior motives were questionable and you weren’t sure if he was protecting you because he cared about you (cue the puking) or solely because he wanted to go to Yongsam Park that bad.

You didn’t reply and chose to drown out the wailing and chaos that ensued with your friends. You clicked on a related article below, curious to learn more about this lesser-known part of the park.

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

Park Jongseong (20) and Nishimura Riki (15) mentioned to their friends that they would be heading to ‘a magical place’, before disappearing for around a week. They were last spotted walking through Yongsam Park, according to anonymous witnesses. This is the third case of disappearances at the park and both teens are the sixth and seventh people to go missing.

Both families reported their children missing just two days after their disappearance. With this case being the last straw, local authorities forcibly shut down Yongsam Park despite protests from staff and management.

Parents of the two minors refused to respond when called for an interview and HYBE reporters resorted to interviewing the victims’ friends instead.

“Jay’s never been a bad kid. Yeah, he might be late here and there, but he wouldn’t skip class or fly across the country for vacation during school. I just don’t understand why he’s not here with us. He wouldn’t voluntarily disappear.” Park Sunghoon (19), a friend and classmate of Jongseong (who is better known as Jay among his friends) said.

“Although I’m not close with Jay, I know Riki personally and I know for a fact that both of them wouldn’t run away like that. Why, Riki was gearing up for a dance competition that he’s been excited about all year, and now he’s just gone? Like that? Riki has always been like my little brother, and he’ll always be. I just want him back at my side.” A teary-eyed Lee Heeseung (20) says.

Netizens have been complaining about the lack of coverage on this issue.

“Maybe Mr. Kim spent all his money on covering this story up from the mainstream public. That’s why he had to build the stupid park on an abandoned sketchy site.” An anonymous netizen commented.

Regardless, we’ll be keeping our prayers for Jongseong and Riki, as well as the five other victims, to return home soon.

“...you guys are such wimps.” That was the first thing you heard Soobin say when you tuned in to the conversation again.

How dare he say that? How dare he have the courage to call you, someone who moved out on your own at 16 to live in the big, scary world, a..wimp?

“Look, Choi Soobin. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a wimp. I didn’t say that I wasn’t interested on this trip.” You stand up and blurt out without thinking twice.

The rest of the boys are gawking at you, their mouths open wide in awe and shock. Yes, you weren’t a wimp, that was for sure, but they had known you all their life as someone who could not stand going out into the wilderness. Maybe the big city had really changed you.

“At least someone wants to go! Perfect. We can leave tomorrow at noon, bring your camping stuff!” Soobin grabbed his things and began walking away.

“Camping?” The five of you exclaimed in unison.

Taehyun, the rational member, gasped. “I, personally, wouldn’t mind going to the carousel thing..or whatever it is, but I am not staying the night. Dude, are you nuts?” The rest of you nodded your heads in agreement.

“It says in the article that we are advised to leave before the sun sets.” You point out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible in fear of breaking this mask of false confidence, when in reality, you were terrified of this place.

Soobin turned back and eyed you down disinterestedly. “Conclusion is that we’ll bring a small backpack, or whatever you guys want to pack, and we’ll stay there until eight. Deal?”

“Seven.” Hueningkai timidly said.

“Whatever you guys want.”

You hadn’t been able to sleep last night. It wasn’t due to fear of the place you were going, rather, you weren’t too excited about having to spend half of your day around Soobin.

What were you going to say to him? You were definitely overthinking at this point.

You know, they always say that the person one hates the most is the one that they also love most. And when Soobin flipped his blue hair back or cheekily smiled, showing his endearing dimples, you couldn’t help but…

No! You loathe Choi Soobin. You couldn’t stand his smile, or his hair, or his height. That evil moonwitch.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Speak of the devil (or moonwitch), you spotted a fluff of blue hair in your peripheral vision.

You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back at him, merely nodding your head while staring at the white wall.

“Why aren’t you looking at me? Are you...scared?” You could see him wiggle his eyebrows as he made that statement.

That was it. You turned back at him. “Yes I am. I’m absolute terrified. I can’t stand the fact that I have to forcibly spend my precious time around you. It’s like I’m about to voluntarily live a nightmare.”

Woah there, calm down. You had smoke spurting out of your ears at this point.

Soobin’s once excited face fell into one of disappointment. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare having to be around you too. Gosh, the immaturity.” He left the room in haste as your eyes shot lasers through his well-toned back.

Maybe you had gone too far with the insult. He hadn’t been mean to you at all, really.

Then again, he had been mean. He took your place when you weren’t around. Suddenly, you were determined to get it back.

“Hop on the magic school bus!”

“Shut up, Yeonjun.” You deadpanned before leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you were finally falling back into routine and you couldn’t help but bask in this nostalgia.

You also couldn’t help but notice how Soobin kept on looking through the rearview mirror at the both of you, pupils darting away once you locked eyes with him.

Man, this was going to be a long ride.

2021 © fluffi

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Tulips And I Bloom In The Spring

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

Requested by @thesupremeswife (the request with the photo) (I’m not posting the photo here because it’s too big and idk how to make it smaller). It’s just fluff because I was angry. I hope you’ll like it, xuxu, and I hope you’ll feel better soon <3

A/N: John Belushi died at the Château Marmont. That’s not really important to understanding the fic but I don’t like leaving out details. As always, English isn’t my mother tongue. x

Word count:  ≈ 4 000

There was a clearing in the forest in the city where you lived, with a stream that flowed lazily through a field of red and yellow tulips. By the stream there were ruins of what had once been a manor. The roof had collapsed, and only the walls still stood. By the wall facing the stream there was a rock and on that rock you liked to sit. In the hottest days you would dip your feet in the fresh water and look at the tulips swaying gently in the breeze.

This clearing was your spot. You would come here when the city grew too loud and you felt like you were drowning. Barely anyone else knew of it. If it started raining when you were there, you’d take shelter under the trees, and if the wind blew the rain a little too hard, you’d lean against one of the walls of the manor to protect yourself from it. It was perfect. It was quiet and lonely and yours.

Sometimes a stranger would walk by and admire the tulips and shoot you a curious glance. You ignored them. Sometimes they would try to start a conversation. You ignored them. You were disappointed in the world and didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

One day in spring as you lay on the soft grass by the ruins, you were startled from your reading by a chatter of voices. A group of people emerged from the forest. A family going on a picnic, you thought. You focused on your book again. But the voices grew louder, and out of the corner of your eye you saw the party cross the stream and saunter towards you.

With an annoyed groan you sat up, set your book on your lap, and raised one hand to shield your eyes from the sun. You noticed one of the men was carrying a camera.

The woman who seemed to be leading the group – she was wearing high-heels in a forest; who wore high-heels in a forest? She was stupid and shallow, you decided – came to a halt in front of you and shot you a dazzling smile.

“So sorry to bother you, dear. Would you mind moving over there?”

“Why?” you retorted moodily. “I was here first.”

The sun hung pearls of light on your eyelashes. You couldn’t see the woman’s features very well.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” she repeated with another charming smile. “We’re here to work and we really need you to move to the other side of the clearing.”

“Well,” you retorted, “I’m really sorry, but I’m not moving.”

That being said, you lay back down on the grass and opened your book to resume your reading.

The man carrying the camera mumbled something you couldn’t hear. The woman raised one hand to shush him. She looked at you, cocking her head.

“Did you know,” she said in a casual, polite voice, “that this place is haunted?”

You ignored her. You knew what she was doing, trying to scare you so you’d leave.

“I’m to make contact with the spirit who’s trapped in these ruins. Tom here is her great grandson.”

“Right,” you mocked, not averting your gaze from your book, “and I’m the pope and I’m here to have a picnic with Jesus.”

You heard the woman sigh. You couldn’t help but shoot her a glance. She raised one hand to her hair, combed her fingers through a golden lock with a graceful, affected gesture.

“Never mind,” she said. “Stay here if you want, but know you’ll be in the shot. Come on, boys. Be careful not to step on the pope.”

You snorted.

You pretended to read as the little group walked around you and settled by the ruins. You watched them out of the corner of your eye.

A tall man who carried himself as if he were the most important person on the planet, strode around the ruins with one hand stroking his chin, muttering remarks for an assistant to scribble down on a notebook. The woman in high-heels disappeared inside the manor and came back ten minutes later, looking pleased. She winced as someone with a round reflector threw sunlight in her eyes.

You decided they were here to shoot a movie and this woman was the main star. There was no way she had told you the truth. Spirits and ghosts and haunted ruins didn’t exist. Maybe you would have believed in them had you still been a child. What you did believe in, though, was liars. People who smiled pretty smiles and used pretty words to manipulate you and get what they wanted. You knew what life was like. A constant battle, everyone protecting themselves from each other.  

A few minutes later, a man walked up to you carrying a box and said: “Billie Dean says I have to do your makeup since you’ll be in the shot.”

“What the fuck?” you growled, glancing up at the man. He was young, and looked pretty uncomfortable.

Behind him you heard Billie’s voice call tauntingly: “Cannot have this messy head of hair of yours in my show.”

You sat up, shot her a look. “Excuse me?” you growled.

Billie was standing in the main doorway of the ruins, fluffing her hair, not looking at you.

“It’s not my fault you refused to move,” she sang. She turned to you, flashed you a smile – arrogant, smug, infuriating.

The man crouched down beside you and opened his box. Inside were two eyeshadow palettes, brushes, an array of lipsticks, foundation, mascara and things you were seeing for the first time in your life. The man cocked his head and squinted at you, as if considering which colour would fit you best.  

“What the – “You stood up as he took a brush out from the box. “Don’t you dare touch me or I’ll kick you.” You clenched your fists, turned to Billie Dean. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars,” she grinned. “I’m merely trying to do my job, dear.”

For a few seconds you scowled at her. Then you picked up your book and stomped to the other side of the clearing.

“Thank you so much!” Billie chimed.

You ignored her.

You opened your book and tried to read, but the words didn’t make sense. Vague anger was gnawing at your heart. You rolled over to your side, but it wasn’t comfortable enough. You lay on your stomach, but it hurt your neck. With an annoyed huff you sat up, crossed your legs, and watched the tulips.

Your eyes drifted to the manor. Billie Dean was standing in the doorway, talking to the man called Tom. You finally took the time to really look at her. A white lace dress that clung to her waist, pale pink acrylics, lips painted a soft red. You stared at her bare legs and suddenly it was too hot in the clearing. Certainly the sun had moved a few inches closer to Earth.

Tom nodded, turned, and disappeared inside the ruins. Billie Dean lingered in the doorway, and part of you suspected she wanted you to admire her. You told yourself you wouldn’t, just to spite her. You turned your attention back to your book and scowled at the page.

You didn’t know how to read anymore. Your eyes kept going back to Billie.

And then she ran one hand through her hair, once, twice, three times, turned and flashed you a smug smile before she walked inside the ruins.

With an angry groan you lay down on the grass and closed your eyes. You were sweating, your heart was beating too fast. After a moment you opened one eye. The clearing was deserted. The tulips swayed gently in the breeze. It looked exactly the same as a few minutes before, and yet something had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint what. Something in the air, maybe, something you couldn’t see but breathed, and it went through your lungs and contaminated the very cells in your body.  

An hour later you decided it was time to go home. You hadn’t read a single page and there was no point in staying here. But your body refused to move. So you decided you’d take a nap. You closed your eyes, rested both hands on your stomach. You listened to the whisper of the breeze in the trees and the songs the birds were chirping at the sun and the soft muttering of the stream. All of nature was alive, and all of nature had been contaminated by that new thing in the air because now all of nature was singing of her.

A shadow fell on you. You opened one eye and shot up.

Billie smiled that arrogant smile of hers and arched an eyebrow. “Would you fancy a drink?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open. You closed it. “What?”

“We’re done here, and I thought,” she pointed one long finger at you, “that I could buy you a drink to thank you for being so accommodating.”

You stared at her finger for way too long. When your brain rebooted, you tried to give her a look, but the sun was in your eyes and made you wince.

You ordered your mouth to say “No”, but your mouth said “Yes”. The smile it drew from Billie was worth it, though.

“Splendid!” she exclaimed, curling her finger and touching the tip of it to her palm. “I know just the place for you.”

The place in question was a very fancy, very bucolic coffee shop on a river bank. You sat down at a round table on the terrace with a vase of roses in the middle. Billie took the liberty to order a glass of lemonade for you, and sat back in her chair as she lit a cigarette.

You didn’t realize you were staring at her until she teasingly blew smoke in your direction and asked you if there was something on her face.

“Jeez, no, you look perfect,” was what came out of your mouth. You silently scolded yourself.

“Why, thank you,” Billie smiled. “I had a feeling I was to meet a pretty girl today, so I had to make sure I looked my best.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You won’t fool me with all this seducing of yours,” you said, squaring your shoulders to look fierce. “I don’t care for crooks.”

Billie arched an eyebrow. Her smile became polite. “You think I’m a crook?”

“Talking to spirits?” You snorted. “Yeah, I think you’re a crook.”

“I’d have to be one crazy masochist to have willingly chosen this life, wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged. “How could I know?”

Billie blew out smoke, crossed her legs and threw her head back.

“So you don’t believe in what I do?” she asked in a sweet voice.

You held her gaze. “No.”

An amused smile. “And yet here you are, having a drink with me. I wonder why.”

You tried to think of a witty answer, but your brain was empty of words. Thankfully you were saved by the arrival of the waiter, who set your drinks on the table and flashed Billie an enamored smile.

The sun was setting and splattering the river with blinding specks of light. Billie closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. You sipped your drink, and tried – but failed – not to blush when she caught you staring.

You straightened your shoulders, cleared your throat. You said, to distract her attention from your reddening face, that you would watch the next episode of her show. She laughed, threw back her head again, and lit another cigarette.

After that there were a few minutes of silence as Billie watched you and you pretended not to watch her. You turned your head and stared at the river.

Billie took your hand in both of hers. You shot her a glance.

“Do you often think such dirty things while contemplating the sunset?” she taunted, mischief glinting in her eyes.

“Excuse me?”you blurted out.

She smirked. “I can see what you’re thinking, dear. That’s part of my gift.”

You stiffened in your chair, heat rising to your head. You had half a mind to withdraw your hand from her grip. You decided not to.

“What’s the point anyway?” you asked her after a few long, uncomfortable seconds had passed. “I’m not into one-night stands.” You paused. “They make me sad.”

Billie hummed. For a second she looked almost wistful. Then she started stroking her thumb on the back of your hand.

Her fingers were cold. You wondered if pressing them against your mouth would warm them up.

When you both decided it was time to leave, Billie insisted she paid for your drink. You stood awkwardly behind her as she laughed with the waiter, then followed her out.

On the threshold you stopped and met her eyes. She gave you a smile.

“Well then, darling, I guess this is goodbye,” she said.

You shrugged. You looked down, toed at the ground. You saw Billie Dean’s shadow move on the concrete, sliding closer to you – and then you felt her lips, hot and soft, plant a sweet kiss on the right side of your jaw.

Your heart jumped. You took a sharp intake of breath, eyes growing wide as Billie lay one hand on your cheek to guide your head towards hers. She pressed her mouth against yours, barely touching, and pulled away before you could register what was happening, but it left you shivering and burning and aching for more.

She met your eyes again and smirked, arrogant and confident and so goddamn irritating. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she hummed. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The day after, you went back to the clearing. You pretended you didn’t know why. You pretended it was because the weather was warm and the so sky blue and the sun so bright.

The air in the clearing was still full of Billie. The place had been irremediably contaminated by her. It would never be the same now. It wasn’t peaceful anymore; it sang of longing and desire.

You walked into the ruins and lay your hands on the walls and pricked up your ears. You called out loud to the spirit, before deciding you were stupid. There was no such thing as ghosts.  

When you turned to leave, Billie Dean was leaning in the doorway, watching you. A huge grin tugged at her lips.

You met her eyes and felt heat flood your cheeks and ears.

“Um,” you said.

“I’m the only one who can hear her, baby doll,” Billie sang. She ran her eyes up and down your body, and licked her lips.

Your eyes flicked down to them.

“I don’t believe you,” you heard yourself say. “I don’t believe ghosts are real.”

Billie’s grin grew. She straightened up and walked towards you.

“Then why are you trying to communicate with them?” she whispered, like a secret, as she came to a halt right in front of you. Your gaze drifted from her lips to her eyes.

“What is the ghost saying to you?” you asked.

Billie chuckled, raised one finger. “Spirit, dear.”She brushed the tip of her finger over your lip. “She’s saying,” Billie went on, her voice dropping an octave lower, “what a beautiful young thing you are, and I would be a fool not to kiss you.”

You shivered at how dark Billie’s eyes were. Without thinking, you nipped her finger.

The dark in Billie’s eyes turned predatory. She smirked, slipped one arm around your waist and pulled you close.

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. Your skin tingled where her arm touched you. You put one hand on her chest to hold her back.

“Why are you here?” you breathed.

“I am being,” she answered, eyes flicking to your mouth, “irresistibly drawn to you.”

Your brain was empty of thoughts. It wasn’t a brain anymore but a recipient made to contain Billie’s scent, Billie’s warmth, Billie’s touch, Billie’s everything. “I don’t believe in love at first sight,” you heard yourself whisper.

Your mouth was dangerously close to hers. Her breath was tickling your lips with every exhale. Her breath was silk, and it caressed your skin.

Billie chuckled. “There’s a lot of things you don’t believe in, sweetheart.” She stroked the corner of your mouth with her thumb again, and you gave in.

Billie grinned into the kiss as if she had won some kind of war and you mumbled, “Shut up”, because she had, in a way. But dear you, she was irresistible and you wanted – needed – all of her.

She must have been right, after all. There was something, some kind of force, drawing you towards each other. You had never felt this way before, this level of want, this carnal need to be with her and know what it really meant to make one with someone. You were certain the moment you’d touch her, your soul would be healed.

Billie slid her tongue inside your mouth and you moaned softly, dug your finger into her butt in retaliation.  

Billie shuddered. “Take me to your place, now,” she rasped.

“It’s too far away,” you whined, desperately pushing your hips against hers.

Billie chuckled. She pressed her mouth to your jaw, peppered delicious kisses down your neck that drew another moan from you.

“There’s a hotel right at the edge of this wood. Close,” you breathed.

“Close,” Billie breathed back. You felt her shiver against you at the promise this word held. “Oh God, close.”

**

When you woke up the next morning, the bed was empty. You extended your arm, patting the mattress, finding nothing. Your eyes shot open. You sat up, dread tightening your throat, when you finally realized you could hear the sound of the shower running. Billie’s clothes still lay on the floor where she had abandoned them. Steam curled out from the slightly-opened bathroom door.

With a relieved sigh you slumped back onto the bed. A smile tugged at your mouth as you buried your face in the sheet. You rubbed your nose on Billie’s pillow to catch a whiff of her perfume.  

Part of you was screaming for you to just grab your things and run away. There was no plausible scenario in which this could end well. You and Billie lived two very different lives, and you were you, and Billie Dean was… Billie Dean. She was perfect and charming and successful in every way.  

But then – but then there was that other part of you which was singing. It was so deliriously happy and it was begging you to try. Give her a chance. Don’t let her go. Do anything, give anything to make her stay.

You opened your eyes and raised your head when you heard footsteps. Billie met your eyes, froze, smiled a rather nervous smile.

The air left your lungs. She was wearing a grey tank top and white panties. Her hair was still damp from the shower, not yet brushed, and her face was completely makeup-free. She obviously looked a bit uncomfortable, as she picked her clothes from the floor and held them against her stomach.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were still asleep.” She gave you another nervous smile. “What are you staring at?”

“You,” you blurted out. You blinked, cleared your throat. “I love your face with no makeup on.”

“Oh.” She chuckled, lowered her head. “I’m not looking my best.”

“Nonsense,” you replied fiercely. “You look stunning.”

She peeked up at you, a soft blush blooming in her cheeks. You bit your lower lip and opened your arms. “Come here and give me a hug?”

Billie seemed to hesitate. Her body leaned towards the bathroom, then towards you. She dropped her clothes on the floor and hurried to you.

With a giggle you pulled her down with you, resting one hand on the nape of her neck to guide her mouth to yours. You opened your eyes during the kiss to admire her.

When Billie pulled away, she sat on the bed next to you and sighed happily. You leaned towards her, combed her hair back from her face and gathered it in one hand. Then you reached for your phone and, before she had time to realize what you were doing, you snapped a photo of her.

“Y/N,” she laughed, half-amused, half-embarrassed.

You frowned at your phone. “Wait, it’s bad,” you whined. “I can only see the top of your head.” You raised your phone. “Let me take another, come on, look at me pretty please.”

Billie laughed again, louder. “I’ll let you take all the photos you want once I’ve made myself up, baby doll,” she sang.

She made to stand up, but you grabbed her arm and pulled her back down so she was lying on top of you.

“Don’t go,” you whispered against her mouth. “Stay here with me forever. Let’s never leave this bed.” Billie hummed, planted a lazy kiss on your collarbone. “I don’t care about your ghosts. They can survive without you.”

Billie chuckled. She raised her head, and you automatically buried your fingers in the long, damp locks of hair that framed her face.

“Spirits, dear,” she corrected you. She lowered her head again, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck.

“Spirits,” you breathed. Billie was kissing a trail up your neck, her mouth hot and wet. You shivered, wrapped your arms around her waist. You pushed your head back to give her more access.

You knew it wasn’t wise or safe to offer this complete stranger intimacy and vulnerability on a silver platter, with a curtsey to boot. But it felt like you knew her, somehow – or rather, it felt like something deep inside you knew her, had known her in another life maybe, and was slowly waking up to her touch. Coming home.

And you knew you were supposed to be done with the world, supposed to be disappointed in it, supposed to be disillusioned, but you didn’t want to be disillusioned anymore. You wanted to find again the capacity to hope and to dream and most of all to believe without a doubt that your dreams would come true.  

You sucked on her lower lip when her mouth met yours, and whispered, almost angrily, “What do you hope to get from this? Us? Because I don’t want a fucking remake of The Bridges of Madison County. Will you promise me never to break my heart?”

She pulled away to look at you. Her brow furrowed.

“I’m afraid I cannot promise you that, my love.”

“Will you promise me you’ll try?”

A smile. A poke on your nose. “That I can do.”

“Will you take me to the Château Marmont? I’ve always wanted to spend a night there.”

Billie chuckled, buried her face in your neck. She held you close, as if you were something precious, as if she were coming home, too.

You brushed back a strand of her hair to whisper in her ear, “You can’t say no. I’ve got a picture of you barefaced. ”

“Fine,” Billie laughed, her voice muffled against your skin. “Cocktails with John Belushi are at 6pm every Friday. I’m pretty sure he’ll have a great time trying to scare you.”

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills

[secondhand-trash]

Come with the Wind

Kinktober 2020 — knife play

A/N: this is directly inspired by Sakusa’s merch design from the hyakki yakou (hundred ghouls marching at night????) line Jump released a while back where we get kamaitachi!sks and i just thought he was perfect for this prompt hhhhh

Pairing: kamaitcahi!Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!reader

Description: Sakusa Kiyoomi knocked you off your feet the moment he first entered your life as a strong whirlwind out of nowhere.

Warning: mention of causing wounds on people, non-threatening stalking behaviour (?), non-threatening breaking in behaviour (?), knife play but kinda tender, vaginal penetration, creampie

Word count: 3824

(more of the modern magic au here)

-

鎌鼬 (kamaitachi): a youkai in Japanese folklore that looks like a weasel with claws shaped like sickles (for the sake of visual aesthetics kamaitachi sakusa will have it on his tail instead). It is said that this youkai appear in the form of a whirlwind, knocking its victims to the ground before slitting long cuts on their skin. Despite the wounds, the person who got attacked would not feel any pain.

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi knocked you off your feet the moment he first entered your life as a strong whirlwind out of nowhere.

Quite literally, knocking you off balance and making you fall onto the ground on your knees.

He showed up in the form of a strong turbulent, tripping you when you were alone on the quiet streets of your neighbourhood. Sakusa eyed you up and down as you laid on the cement floor, too shocked by the man that appeared out of nowhere to even move. Your eyes widening when you saw the long tail swaying behind him and the sharp hook that was at the very end.

In a world where the inhuman and human lived as one society, the many youkais that had inhabited Japan way before your kind did were starting to blend into the modern city life as well. But there would always be some that could not, or refused to, give up on the way they had lived by far before they were anything but a story passed on from generation to generation.

Except, unlike the generations before, people of the current day now knew for a fact that these monsters lurking in the shadows were very much so real and waiting for a chance to strike when your guard was lowered.

The kamaitachi stared at his victim, finding somewhere to place the wound. The preferable tactic was to do it fast and precise, but Sakusa always had trouble with making a haste decision. Very inconveniently so, he had quite the distaste towards getting blood on himself and would rather pick a position on the delicate human body that would cause less bleeding. 

Blood was messy, and it was hard to wash off of the fleece on his tail once it got on there. He did not like the mess at all.

The purpose of youkais of his kind was not to cause bloodshed. Well, actually, he wasn’t all too sure what the purpose truly was, given that he really wouldn’t gain from any of this. He had simply been told that this was what his kind did, and he carefully followed this task bestowed on him by his origins for more years than any of the measly humans that had been tripped by his wind could count.

So that was what he had been doing ever since he had a memory of his existence, and he intended to finish his task this time around too. But when his eyes met yours, your lips slightly agape as you sat on the ground from the shock, he found that he couldn’t swing the hook of his tail down onto your skin.

His moment of hesitation was enough for you to come back to your senses, climbing up with scrambled steps as you dashed towards the direction of your house without the time to even look back.

Sakusa realised that he was staring at the floor when he snapped out of his trance, letting out a muffled groan as he looked towards the direction you had headed.

What was it? Why didn’t he do it?

Sakusa had never felt so tortured in his many years of life than he did after he let you escaped completely unharmed. He had failed his one job for the first time ever and he wasn’t the happiest about it. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t get you out of his head no matter how hard he tried and it was really, really irritating him. 

It must be that he couldn’t stand having an unfinished job, it must be it.

-

He spent the next few days in the air of the neighbourhood he saw you at, which wasn’t exactly his proudest moment. It was stupid for him to care so much about a random human that got away through luck, but he was determined that he would right his wrong. There were several times when he caught you alone, but he never managed to do it. He spent a lot of time observing you but always missing the prime timing. It could be that he was far too enticed by the book you were reading (which he tried very hard to see the title clearly because he was so far away from you), or he simply got lost in the way you laugh to yourself when you thought no one was watching (he was, in fact, watching), but he always remembered in absolute frustration that he was there for a proper reason when you had left. 

So he kept going back to you again and again, waiting for the chance to make his strike.

Not because he wanted to, absolutely not.

He swore he only found out about where you lived on accident. He wasn’t really intending to be so stalker-ish but one day when he didn’t see you around all day long when he was waiting for you to show up only to spot you pacing down the streets late at night, he thought that it was absolutely foolish for you to be alone at the hour and just had to make sure you got back to your place safely. Humans were very fragile creatures was what he had learned after years of observation, and if you happened to bump into any of the more vicious youkais or worse, vicious humans, then he wouldn’t get to finish his task with you gone.

(He grumbled, as if he wasn’t one of the said dangerous youkais lurking around.)

He had resisted the urge to look into your house. There were youkais that broke into people’s residents but that wasn’t the nature of his kind and he intended to stay in his own lane. But now that he knew where you lived, it was getting harder and harder for him to stay away.

Sakusa was circling the area midair one day when he saw that the door to your tiny balcony was wide open. He felt his eyelids jumped, did no one ever tell you that you should keep all doors and windows locked when you were out? He floated close with a disapproving tsk of his tongue, wanting to help you close it up when he got a brief glimpse of what was behind the window.

He swore to all the gods whose name he could not even remember because they were far too long to utter out that he had never seen a more horrendous sight.

He took a step back, absolutely disgusted. Had humans gotten to this point of their survival now? That they could live in a condition like this? “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself as he tentatively entered your home, careful not to step on anything that was on the ground.

The trash can at the corner was filled to the top and threatening to spill out. He felt a sharp ache banging in his head when he saw the empty boxes piled up at the side. There were bunches of tissue paper shoved onto the back of your table that had no empty space on it with so many things that were scattered on top. Now that he started paying attention, there were marks on your balcony window clearly left behind because you never bothered to wipe it clean after downpours of rain.

Ridiculous. His brows furrowed together in disapproval, picking up any trash on the ground with the hook of his tail as he inspected the place.

This would not do, he would not allow it.

Right, he clicked his tongue as he looked around, searching for anything that resembled a broom, where should he start?

You were sure you must have tired yourself too much that you were starting to see illusions when you came home that night to see the same kamaitachi who had shoved you to the ground and proceed to let you escape furiously wiping your window with a towel hooked onto his tail while grumbling about how stubborn the stains were. You did not dare to move when he must have heard you come in, slowly and stiffly turning around until you two were staring at each other. Neither of you said a word, and you blinked as you tried to make sense of the situation.

You didn’t know that kamaitachis also break into people’s houses just to help with the cleaning?

“Um,” you gulped, feeling small under his inky eyes even though he was the intruder here, “do you want something to drink?”

This was wrong. Kamaitachis were not supposed to mingle with the mankind. He should have escaped through the little gap on the window he had left for ventilation (your house was far too dusty for his comfort), or throw you off by causing a whirlwind inside your tiny city apartment which was guaranteed to make quite the destruction., or just do what he thought he was there to do all along and slit an open wound on any part of your skin.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had a moment of silence when he realised that he didn’t want to do any of those things.

He did, however, really wanted warm tea.

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi made several discoveries about humans after he met you:

1. under the right amount of pressure, they are able to keep up with a hygienic living environment, you were just too lazy for your own good

2. they make really decent tea (you made him this thing where you pour tea onto rice and umeboshi once and he was completely floored)

3. they invite people to move into their residence as a gesture of affection (you had brought it up after he waited outside your balcony for a good hour before you came home and let him in, claiming that he always around anyways

4. youkai-human romances are a thing now and people wouldn’t get burned alive for it (you laughed very hard when he brought up his concerns on why you didn’t have any issues letting your neighbours see you with him, he didn’t understand why)

Oh, and they were soft, very soft. Sakusa held you just a little closer to his chest as you two sat cross legged on the mattress, his arms wrapped around your waist as he leaned his jaw onto your shoulder while you mindlessly played with his tail.

So soft.

“Careful,” he warned when he saw you tracing your finger along the edge of his reaping hook, “you’re going to cut yourself if you slip.”

You chuckled, watching as he flicked his tail as far away from you as he could. “Shouldn’t you want that to happen?” you mused, twisting around so you could see his face. The two dots above his eyebrow shifted as he narrowed his eyes, his lips pursed into one thin line. You could see the very tip of his tiny white ears peeking out of his wavy black curls, twitching ever so slightly.

He sighed, clicking his tongue at your triumphant expression like you had gotten him good. Light reflected on the silver blade as he lifted it up to your eye level, twisting it slowly so that it glimmered. He always kept the blade clean and sharp even though he hadn’t used it since meeting you. You could see your own reflection on the polished surface and you stared into his inky eyes through it.

For a moment, you were mesmerised, and you could hear your own breaths as your gaze travelled to the very tip of the hook which could draw blood even from the slightest bit of force.

“Omi,” you licked your lips and gripped onto his forearm that was around your stomach, “is it true that I wouldn’t feel it even if you slice down?”

His eyes widened, “I’m not hurting you.”

“I know, but is it?”

Sakusa paused, he hadn’t thought about it in a long time. Gently and with caution, he turned his hook to its dull edge and trail it up to your leg. You stiffen at the feeling of the cold metal on your skin, goosebumps rose on your skin where the hook just grazed past. 

“Apparently,” he said, his voice coming out as a whisper as he took in your reaction. Any hint of fear and he would pull back, but you only seemed to lean back against his chest even more as he brushed the blade along your calf. You were so delicate, he could leave such nasty scars on your skin if he did so little as flick down and you knew it. But the heaving of your chest only got more obvious when the edge of his blade reached higher and higher up on your leg until it was pushing up the hem of your shorts.

He stopped when the curved hook was right at the root of your thigh, and pressed the flat edge down.

He nearly lost control of himself when he heard the faintest resemblance of a moan slipping from your mouth.

“Do you like this?”

Your face burned up at the question and the gravel in his tone. His arms slowly pulled away from your waist, warm palms running along the curve of his waist until they were resting right at the side of your hips. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers digging down and gripping onto the hem, the fabric of your shorts now bunched up around the silver hook.

“Do you like this?” he asked again, the fleece of his tail brushing against your skin as he crooked the tip. You could see it poking under the fabric, pulling it taunt around the edge, and you felt your own voice betraying you at the thought of how easy it would be for him to just ripped it to pieces.

“Yes.”

A loud tear ripped through the room and sent numbing sparks all the way to your scalp as you held your breath in reflectively, the hook gliding across the flimsy fabric of your room wear and dangerously close to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

You whimpered when he slipped his hand under the baggy t-shirt you were wearing, pushing it up until your bare chest was out on display.

“Bite.”

You parted your mouth and took the hem between your teeth, the heat spreading onto the tip of your ears at your lewd position. He brought the sickle up, his eyes bearing at your form when he slowly ran the dull edge down the valley of your breast and onto your stomach. You wanted to arch against him so badly but held yourself still, your shoulders shaking slightly as you did not dare to move.

“I remember how people used to scream when my blade touches their skin,” his lips ghosted on where your neck met your shoulder, warm breath fanning onto you and making every hair on your back stood up. He sniggered when he heard your breath getting heavier when he brought the blade to your front. The chilling metal barely touched your nipple before it pebbled up and stood almost painfully. “But getting aroused... that is a first.”

“O- omi...” you managed to utter his name through your teeth and he brushed against your nipple with a flick, the feeling of steel still lingering on the sensitive bud.

“Look at you getting all antsy,” he clicked his tongue and the sound sent shivers down your spine. He shifted underneath you, hoisting you higher up on his lap. Something hard poked at your ass as he held you still, his erection pressed firmly against you through the shorts that were struggling to hold together.

You let out a pitiful whine when he hooked one nimble finger under the crotch of your panties while the sickle scrapped down from your shoulder to your arm, an inaudible rumble slipping from the back of his throat when he felt the slick that had seeped into the cotton.

Humans, their bodies react in the most fascinating ways.

You froze when the hook brushed past your inner thigh and under the strip of fabric his fingers were holding onto.

“Scared?” he asked, the elastic choking snugly around your skin in tension as he held the hook still, “just one wrong move and I could hurt the most delicate part of your body.”

You pussy couldn’t help but clench around nothing when he cut the last bit of fabric covering you with a forceful pull, the clear essence that was already pooling up all the more obvious when dripped onto the metal.

“Tsk tsk...” 

You could not even press your thighs together to get the friction you so desperately wanted with his hand giving you a squeeze in warning, bringing the hook up to your face as he turned it under the light. 

“You are getting my sickle all dirty,” he said, referring to the shine on the usually spotless surface that was from your arousal. Sakusa’s fingers danced along your inner thigh before bringing them to your sopping folds, brushing past your slit and felt the wetness gushing out.

He brought the hook to his lips and poked his tongue out, the sound of his tongue against the metal where it had just touched your skin forming a blood curling image in your head even though you could only hear him. He twisted his tail, letting his tongue ran along the blade from the base to the tip.

You whimpered when you felt the coldness of his saliva on the blade right at the side of your neck.

“Up.”

You shakily lifted yourself off his lap, getting onto your knees as you waited with bated breath. The sound of zippers had your heart pounding in your chest all while the sharp blade of the reaping hook was starting to make your skin go numb.

He could slit your throat if he wanted to.

Your jaw was aching from how hard you bite down and it only got worse when you felt his tip prodding at your entrance. He signaled you to sink down with a tap of his finger at the side of your hips. You could not hold yourself back anymore as his girth slowly stretched you out, your shirt falling back down over your abdomen as a breathy moan rolled off your tongue. 

“Mph-” your toes curled when he was balls deep inside of you and he tilted your head back until the curve of your neck leaned right on his shoulder with the tip of his sickle, the metal growing warm under your chin as he held you there.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight walls around his cock, the sudden penetration without any foreplay had your cunt now leaking with wetness just to get used to him. 

He slowly started rocking against you before upping his pace. He throbbed inside of you, the heat of him burning into your lower stomach and spreading all over your body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, guiding you to roll against him all the while never removing the blade from your neck. You let out a choked mewl when the tip of it trailed down your neck, poking against the fragile skin ever so slightly when he thrust up.

Sakusa had never felt any hint of emotions in his brain when he held his blade at any of his past victims, he did it because that was simply what his kind does and that was it. But when he saw the lighter streaks left on your skin where the tip of his sickle had pressed down on, your breaths rigid but with desire dripping from each heave of your chest, he felt all sorts of feelings screaming in his head until all he could do was lash them out through each merciless rut of his hips.

The sound of his balls slapping against your ass bounced off the walls as you panted, your hands threw back to circle around his neck the blade was pressed down flat on your neck. It almost felt like you were being choked as the metal grew warm on your skin, your eyes seeing white in the corners as your walls contracted around him and his name slurred off your tongue like a mantra.

A low moan rumbled from his chest at your walls clamping down on him and the vibration seeped through your back, making you whimper. You sucked in a hasty breath when the hook was removed from your throat, his tail stiffening up at the side as he felt his own climax getting close. He buried his face at the crook of your neck, muffling his moans as he held you tight against him.

He came with a shudder, his hands still clutching you tightly before his muscles relaxed and he slumped onto your body. Your lips parted to let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his release inside of you, the sticky substance slowly leaking out of your fluttering folds down onto the base of his cock with him still buried inside of you. 

His tail, the part that was just fur and not blade, rubbed soothingly against your waist as he gently lifted you off his lap. You whimpered at the feeling of his warmth leaving your body, the sudden emptiness making your still sensitive walls clenched and more of his cum trailed down. Turning you around so that you could lay on his chest, you listened to his heartbeats slowly easing down from the rapid beating as it rose and fell underneath your chin.

His tail was swung over your back, locking you in as his palm ran up and down on your back. You brushed at the white fleece with your finger, a light coo slipping past your lips at how soft it was. It was a wonder how just a few inches down and the fur would blend in with the unbending steel of his sickle.

“You know,” you said, still relishing in the feeling of his fur brushing past your finger tip, “sometimes I’m really glad that you tried to attack me that day.”

He huffed, “You mean you’re glad I didn’t actually do it?”

“Well,” you looked up, smiling a little as you stared into his inky eyes, “you would not be here if you didn’t stalk me weeks after that because you let me went away.”

“I did not stalk you.”

“Yes you did!” you laughed when he rolled his eyes. You paused, letting out a short hum before leaning your jaw on his chest again.

“I’m happy you did though.”

He looked down at your murmur, and closed his eyes as he took in your scent with his face buried into your hair.

Sakusa Kiyoomi came into your life as a strange, sudden whirlwind and in a stunning twist of events against his very nature, he stayed.

And he was very happy he did that too.

[rovelae]

Why Saiouma isn’t toxic

(CW: in-depth discussion of abuse, discussion of rape/noncon)

           Disclaimer(s): This is an intellectual discussion, not a screaming match. If you’re here to argue with facts and evidence, I don’t mind debating with you. If you just want to throw a tantrum because I like something you don’t, I’m going to tell you to take a Xanax and go to bed.

           I’m combining the terms “toxic” and “abusive”; though they aren’t technically the exact same, they’re similar enough for the purposes of this essay.

           This essay isn’t meant to convince you to ship Saiou. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But it’s not right to scream ‘abuse’ where none exists; it hurts fans and content creators, and it “diminishes the importance of that word and it reduces [it] to something volatile and stupid.”

           To begin with, we have to identify what makes a relationship abusive. The way I define it, an abusive relationship involves manipulation, an inherent power imbalance, and/or physical or sexual abuse. Most of the hate-posts I’ve seen paint Kokichi as the abuser and Shuichi as the hapless victim, so that will be the focus of this essay.

1. Would Kokichi manipulate Shuichi for personal gain?

           There’s no denying that Kokichi is a manipulative person. He’s a liar and he did some awful things in the game. No one’s saying he’s a morally white character. But it would be wrong to say he’s entirely evil, either.

           I’ve already covered in this post why Kokichi can’t be said to lie for personal gain, but I’ll quote a bit of it here.

           “The motivation [behind Kokichi’s lies] isn’t self-serving—he’s motivated by a desire to end a death game and stop anyone from having to go through what he and his friends have ever again. The smaller lies, though, like lying about his favorite foods? It would be annoying to be tricked like that, but it’s way too much of a stretch to label it psychological abuse.”

           We know that Kokichi’s DICE organization has a moral taboo against murder. We know he hated the killing game, to the point where he orchestrated his own suicide in order to ruin it. And almost every time Kokichi lies in the class trials, it’s either for comedic relief or to push the cast toward finding the culprit.

           “But Chapter 4!” you protest. “Kokichi manipulated Gonta into killing Miu!”

           My response is threefold:

-        Miu started it. Kokichi wouldn’t have done anything at all if his life wasn’t in danger and he wasn’t desperate.

-        It’s wrong to think that Gonta is incapable of making his own decisions. Kokichi may have influenced him in that direction, but Gonta actively made the choice to kill Miu—his own avatar confirms it at the end of the trial. (See also: Impytricky’s “Gonta Gokuhara Character Analysis: When a Genius is Treated like a Child”)

-        Kokichi felt terrible about what happened in Trial 4, to the point where he begged Monokuma to execute him along with Gonta. He didn’t need to do that, and it throws off his whole “I’m the mastermind” act just a few lines later, so we must assume he was being honest about that. It’s clear that he doesn’t enjoy hurting others.

           If that’s still not enough for you, consider: desperation, and, by extension, the killing game, brings out the worst in people. We can’t accurately judge a person’s character if all we have to go off of is the worst parts of them. Would Leon have killed Sayaka outside of the killing game? Would Hifumi have agreed to help Celestia kill Taka? Would Gundham have killed Nekomaru?

           So, would Kokichi manipulate Shuichi for personal gain? No. His whole character is motivated by a desire to help the others, and his lies are either manifestations of that motivation or harmless pranks meant to entertain.

2. Does the Saiouma ship have an inherent power imbalance?

           Shuichi is, by his own admission, weak. Kokichi has a strong personality and likes to be in charge. That doesn’t mean that Kokichi doesn’t respect Shuichi and his opinions. In fact, each class trial is packed with evidence of Kokichi listening to Shuichi’s point of view and respecting his intelligence. For instance:

-        Kokichi sided with Shuichi during scrum debates 2, 3, and 4

-        Kokichi pointed out most of Shuichi’s lies during the trials (and back routes), but in most cases, didn’t fight him on it

-        Shuichi is the only character identified as “trustworthy” by the white board in Kokichi’s room—i.e., Kokichi trusted him to at least be on the right track in the trials.

           Kokichi is also shown to care about Shuichi’s feelings in the game, like when he told him he’d rather bring Kaede back to life in Chapter 3, because it would make Shuichi happy. To reiterate: he wants Shuichi to be happy even if it means they don’t end up together. That says a lot.

           Additionally, I already mentioned that Shuichi is weak, but it’s important to realize that he isn’t so much of a pushover that he’s entirely incapable of standing up for himself. Look at his interactions with Miu, for example: he sharply told her that “I can wear a hat if I want” when she made fun of him for it, and in her FTEs, he refuses to eat the hygienically questionable food she made for him.

           Shuichi’s kind of a simp and tends to get roped into things, yes. But he’s able to stand up for himself—especially after Chapter 6—to the point where he wouldn’t enter into a relationship unless he wanted to. If you think Kokichi would somehow be able to force Shuichi to be his boyfriend, you have no faith in Shuichi—and Chapter 6 proves you wrong.

           So, is Saiouma inherently imbalanced? No. Kokichi respects Shuichi’s feelngs, intelligence, and opinions, and Shuichi’s a stronger character than he’s given credit for.

3. Would Kokichi physically or sexually abuse Shuichi?

           One needs only to look at Kokichi’s Love Hotel event for the answer. While the Love Hotel isn’t canon to the game’s timeline, the characters are still in character— that is, Kokichi and Shuichi are acting as they normally act.

           It’s important to note that Kokichi is the only character who backed off of Shuichi after Shuichi either appeared visibly uncomfortable or told them to stop. Kaede asked for Shuichi’s consent and was given it; Angie, Himiko, Kiyo, Miu, and Tsumugi all took advantage of Shuichi in some way or another; and the rest just didn’t have sexual connotations. Kokichi made advances on Shuichi, noticed that Shuichi was uncomfortable, and immediately backed off.

           “But wait!” you cry. “Just because one character didn’t rape the other doesn’t mean they have a good relationship!”

           Of course, and that’s important to realize, too. But recall that the purpose of this essay isn’t to convince you to ship Saiouma—it’s to prove that it isn’t abusive.

           Keep in mind that this was Kokichi’s fantasy— he would have been able to do whatever he wanted to Shuichi with zero repercussions, and Shuichi probably wouldn’t even remember much when he woke up. And still, Kokichi chose to stop the moment he realized Shuichi wasn’t on board with what was happening. That says a lot.

           And what about outside the game? We know from the Salmon Mode ending that Kokichi is desperate for someone to “figure him out.” He’d be very careful not to jeopardize his relationship with someone who genuinely wants to understand him.

           And Shuichi does genuinely want to understand him:

           So, would Kokichi physically or sexually abuse Shuichi? No. It’s just not in his character.

“But what if Kokichi was lying about EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE GAME?” you yell. “There’s no way we can trust anything he’s ever said ever!”

           If every Danganronpa character was polite, kind, open, and honest, 100% of the time without fail, the game would be incredibly boring. If that’s the kind of media you’re into, I’d recommend something like Reader Rabbit or Winnie the Pooh. Danganronpa is a murder mystery, where characters hurt and betray and lie and actually kill each other. You can’t trust anyone; that’s the whole point.

           So I advise you to go back through the game with an open mind and try, actually try, to use reading comprehension skills to understand the characters. Examine their motives, think about what they might be feeling when they make the decisions they do.

           Danganronpa is not the kind of game to spoon-feed you easy-to-swallow characters. You have to pick them apart yourself.

           As for everything Kokichi has ever said possibly being a lie? Maybe. Maybe every character is lying to you. But if you hate Kokichi just because he’s dishonest, then it follows that you have to hate Rantaro, Kaede, Shuichi, Kaito, Maki, Himiko, Kiyo, Miu, Tsumugi, Kirumi, and Kiibo—which, at that point, why are you even a fan of the game?

           And if you deny everything Kokichi said just because you think it’s a lie…

 In conclusion

           You can dislike Saiouma because it’s not your thing, but it’s wrong to spread hate over abuse that doesn’t exist. Hating and attacking people for having a different opinion than you won't magically sway them to your side. If you can't articulate your points in a way that doesn't antagonize, you probably shouldn't be talking. People like what they like for a reason, and spitting on what they like won't make you any friends.

           And throwing around weighted terms like “toxic” when you just don’t like something? That makes YOU the toxic one.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-16: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“From now on, all you have to do is to answer my questions.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

The air was heavily permeated with the acrid smell of food that had long since turned bad. 

Hemp rope, capsules, and many pieces of orange-coloured origami paper littered the ground by my feet.

MC: This is…

Every piece of origami paper that laid scattered on the ground had fold marks, some of it was even complete, folded into the shape of a butterfly.

Origami butterflies, the security guard, racing… The image of a young woman entered my mind.

Osborn: The sound we heard earlier came from over there.

I looked towards a corner of the room. There was a row of tall shelves, blocking the view of the people who were hidden behind. Light shone forth from behind the shelves, casting shadows.

I heard the hiss of tape, along with the sound of heavy and ragged breathing. The person being restrained sounded like they were in great pain.

??: I don't have the time to be playing games with you!

Osborn exchanged a glance with me. Understanding passed between us as we both silently approached the other end.

Through the gaps between the shelves, I could see the same who'd assaulted me back then. He was using hemp rope to tie a woman down on a chair.

The woman cried out, struggling vehemently against her binds. So much, that it enraged the man who then kicked her chair, making it topple right over!

MC: !

I caught sight of a familiar face the moment the chair fell onto the ground.

Lin Yao's agent!?

I felt an iciness creep up my heart. I pulled at Osborn to nab his attention and lowered my voice into a whisper.

MC: I recognize the person who's being bound to the chair. She's the mother and agent of the star, Lin Yao.

The light in Osborn's eyes dimmed a tad before he made a shushing motion.

Man: You should have thought about your fate when you locked her up in the attic back then, abusing her every day.

Man: Hurry and sign that agreement contract! ...Do you hear me!? Otherwise… Otherwise, I will make you disappear; forever!

The bound agent could only vehemently nod in response, gripping onto the pen that had been shoved into her hand and signing the contract with much difficulty.

After a period of silence, the man laughed; a laugh so solemn and tragic.

Man: This is how it should be. Her contact has been dissolved; she's finally free…

Did he kidnap the agent just to dissolve Lin Yao's contract? To grant her freedom? But I didn't interact much with her… So, why would he have attacked me?

Before I could wrap my head around it, I suddenly saw the gleam of a sharp and deadly blade flash in his hand…

Not good!

The shelf we'd been hiding behind was knocked over by a well-timed kick as Osborn threw a couple of fallen debris his way with startling speed and accuracy.

Clatter!

The small knife fell onto the ground.

The man angrily got up and turned around to see just who was behind him… Only to be surrounded and trapped by blue fire!

He wailed in pain, falling to the ground. However, his eyes remained fixated to where the contract had fluttered to a rest. He reached out to the piece of paper, grabbing ahold of it.

Was he laughing; or was he crying? I don't know. His shaky hand reached out, picking the contract up and carefully safekeeping it in his inner breast pocket.

The agent twisted, making muffled cries for help. Her once prideful and haughty face was now marred with a multitude of wounds.

I stepped up and tore the tape that sealed her mouth off.

Agent: H-Help me!

Agent: He's a madman!

Agent: You're police, right? Hurry and arrest him and get me out of here!

Agent: That madman caught me yesterday, insisting that I sign a contract to dissolve my contract with Yao'yao.

Agent: Quick! Get me the contract so that I can rip it apart!

Man: Give it a rest! Over my dead body! I won't let you control her again.

Agent: Stop daydreaming! I'm Lin Yao's mother. She WILL listen to whatever I say.

Man: You are not worthy.

Hearing the agent’s words, the man suddenly got even more agitated. His face was pinched in a pained look.

Man: Just what do you see her as? A money tree!? I should have stopped her from going with you at the orphanage back then!

Man: She was so elated when she went off with you back then, thinking that she'd finally have a family…

Agent: Back then? Are you from the orphanage too? You're a kid from that place!

Man: That's not all. I almost got adopted by you, mom.

The fragments finally pieced themselves together in my mind, forming the full picture.

Lin Yao was a child whom the agent had adopted from the orphanage, and she knew this man since childhood. Hence, Lin Yao’s friend who liked racing should be none other than him.

But for some reason or another, this was also the same man who’d vanished for a long time. After his return, he learnt that Lin Yao was being harshly treated and coerced against her will by the agent. So, he kidnapped her and coerced her to sign a termination agreement instead.

The agent instantly shot up from her spot, seemingly wanting to retort back about something. However, her body swayed twice before she fainted, collapsing onto the ground.

Osborn picked up the small discarded knife that had fallen onto the ground, holding it up and pressing it to the man’s neck.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: From now on, all you have to do is to answer my questions.

Man: This has nothing to do with you, Osborn!

Osborn: Cut the crap.

Osborn: The attacks that have been happening recently. Were they all your doing?

Man: ...Yes.

After a moment of silence, Osborn took out a bracelet from his pocket…

It was the very same nameplate bracelet with the two-headed snake motif that I'd seen that day on the roof.

Osborn: This must be yours then, isn't it?

Man: My bracelet! Why do you have it!? You did THIS to me!!

Osborn: Don't move. Explain yourself.

Osborn: What purpose does this device serve?

Man: To stop us from going berserk.

Osborn turned the bracelet, angling it and pointing to the back.

Osborn: HCP18407. What is it?

Man: That's my name.

Osborn: You said "us" earlier. Who's "us"?

❖☆———————————★❖

The man seemed like he'd wanted to grin so wide that a smile split his face.

However, his skin was so bone-dry that it was clinging tightly to the bones with no give at all. It made moving a struggle for him, and the only thing that still retained its mobility was his eyes.

He laughed. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and started to whine pathetically.

Man: I don't know.

Man: We were kept captive; our names and existences erased. Everyone was given a number.

Man: Hearing, taste, touch… We were all slowly deprived of all senses

Man: In the end, we turned into beasts that had to rely on blood to survive.

He stared at the floor in a daze, his voice growing increasingly muffled.

Man: I witnessed my best bud turn into nothing but an empty shell with my own eyes. And the experiment failed on me, so I was discarded as if I was nothing but trash.

Man: I went through so much just to escape before I got annihilated. Ask just so that I could see Yao'yao!

Man: But without the daily supplement they gave, along with the bracelet's inhibition, I deteriorated by the day.

Man: When night falls, I can't stop myself from assaulting others…

Osborn: Night? But you assaulted her in broad daylight.

Osborn raised a finger and pointed back to me.

Man: I don't know. I suddenly smelt the strong scent of blood. Just like this smell now.

He raised his head to look at me with desire written all over his face. It looked as if he was positively ready to jump me the next second. Then, he struggled with himself, clutching at his neck and forcing himself to retreat a couple of steps.

Man: Her blood is potent and terribly enticing. It makes me lose my rationality. And I'd already attacked her by the time I came back to myself!

Man: I know that this is a crime, but I HAVE to survive.

Osborn fell silent for a long while before he spoke up once more.

Osborn: Who locked you guys up?

Man: I don't know… We're the basest of existence, so we're not allowed to know anything.

Man: I only know that those keeping us locked up were all people of the Blood Tribe.

Osborn: Did you see a man in his forties of medium build in that place? His glasses should have had the same motif that was on the nameplate bracelet.

The man instantly shook his head.

Man: There were only orphans there. All around the same age as me. I never saw anyone over the age of 30.

Knock… Knock…

A strange sound came from the glass windows.

Turning around, I saw a purplite bird knocking on the glass with its sharp beak.

Osborn froze, his expression instantly turned severe; something that I'd never seen on him. He released the man's collar, vehemently whipping around and tackling me.

Osborn: Get down!

CRASH!

The windows shattered, causing shards of glass to splinter in all directions!

A flock of purplite birds flew in front of the open window, swarming and attacking us all.

Osborn shielded me firmly beneath his body, unleashing his fire and making it form a barrier in front of us.

❖☆———————————★❖

The flapping of wings, the sound of impact being made; the shrill cries of the birds filled the dark room. 

It was eerie enough to make one's hair stand on end.

The situation had taken a turn for the unexpected. There were sounds of footsteps coming from all directions. The shreds of orange origami paper fluttered in the air, like the broken wings of a butterfly, obscuring our vision.

After a good long while, the cacophony dissolved, and the man from earlier was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't even a single trace of him ever being there.

MC: Osborn, he…

Osborn: Let's get back out first.

I nodded and carried the agent, who'd lost consciousness, together with him, running out the door.

❖☆———————————★❖

I was momentarily blinded by the light when we got outside. 

The abandoned building before me seemed so foreign and out of place, as if it were from a completely different world.

I couldn't help but look back at Osborn. He was holding tightly onto a watch, his gaze fixated on the two-headed snake motif on the centre of the clock face.

It was then that I finally understood; That the reason why he was looking for the bracelet up on the roof, and why he asked me what the meaning of this motif was outside the museum that day, had everything to do with that watch he held in his grasp.

And, he'd asked about someone earlier, as if he was trying to locate them.

I wanted to offer him words of comfort, but my attention was called away by the sudden shout. I turned towards the sound.

A plump man was waving his hand, running towards us.

??: Hey bro. I came here as soon as I got your message. What's up?

Osborn had already put away his watch. He glanced at me.

Osborn: He's Wen Wan. He'll send you home.

MC: What about you? Aren't you coming with us?

Osborn: There are still some things I have to clear up here.

MC: ...Are you going back to look for him?

Osborn: You've forgotten what I told you again.

Osborn: The more secrets you know, the more likely you are to-

His lips quirked up into an arc as he quietly averted his gaze elsewhere.

MC: Fine, be that way then… Stay safe.

Osborn: This is a walk in a park.

Osborn: You're that worried about me?

MC: I don't think things are as simple as it seems, and I'm worried that other dangers are lying in wait…

Osborn: Only because you have yet to realize just how dangerous I am.

He suddenly leaned down, opening my palm and depositing a handful of candy before he turned to leave, as free and easy as ever.

Osborn: She's all yours now.

I watched his gradually disappearing silhouette in the distance, tightening my hold on the bunch of lemon candy that he'd dropped off.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-14) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-19 Light) / (Chapter 3-19 Night)

[harryhandstan]

I am so excited to finally be posting this for y’all! Thank you so much for all the hype and support it is very much appreciated. :) this is my piece for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge! my prompt was the song “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” from the movie Frozen and I hope you all enjoy how I’ve incorporated it into my Dad!Harry series. You don’t necessarily have to read the other parts to understand this one, but I’ll link them below in case you want to re-visit them. 

I Want Your Belly ❄ Wonderful and Warm ❄ Washed Away in You 

Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @heartbreakweatherharry​ for reading over this for me and giving me such amazing feedback! 

Word count: 2.3k

You still couldn’t believe the little wonder that had been created by you and Harry existed to be yours. Things hadn’t been perfect, far from it, but it was definitely a new and fun adventure you were both eager and terrified of.

The first challenge presented was finding a name perfect enough to fit your son. He was alive for 24 hours before you discovered one you and Harry were absolutely sure of. Even seeing it written on his birth certificate made your heart swell with pride.

It’s your mother who asks first, “Well, are you two gonna make a formal announcement to the press before us grandparents get to know the name of our grandson?”

“Think we’ve made them wait long enough, Harry.”

He smiles at you from across the hospital room where he sits in a chair, the baby resting peacefully on his chest. You’re propped up in the bed, wrapped in the soft pink robe given to you by him just a few days ago. Anne sits nearby, a proud grin on her face at the sight of her baby with his.

His eyes dart from the baby to you, “You wanna tell them or shall I?”

“You tell them. You’re the one that found it, been bragging about it all day too.”

“Alright then,” He gently lifts the baby, turning him to where the whole room can see him, your son’s face now scrunched up by the light from the window shining on him, “Ladies, meet your grandson, Sterling Edward Styles.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Anne giggles, reaching over to pat your leg, “You’ll never hear the end of it, love, letting him name the baby after himself.”

“Hey! S’her idea to give him my middle name. I picked the first,” His features switch from temporarily offended back to beaming, “Wanna tell ‘em what it means, darlin’?”

“Sterling means ‘starling’, or as Harry likes to call him..”

“Our little star.” 

5 weeks later, your son certainly lives up to his name, charming everyone he meets. Sweet smiles and coos at strangers from his carrier when you’re at the grocery store or falling asleep in Auntie Gemma’s arms when she comes to visit. You were not surprised he already had his father’s charismatic ability to make everyone fall for him so quickly.

With Harry’s schedule as busy as it had been, it hadn’t been easy to adjust to life together as new parents. As much as he had tried to push things back or reschedule to have more time off with you, there was only so much that he was in control of and he was away from you and Sterling more than he liked.

So it’s no surprise when he comes home one evening and the space you share is mostly already decorated for the winter holidays. He smiles warmly to himself when he hears you singing along to the movie playing from the tv, peeks around the corner to see Sterling tucked away in his swing, his eyes open and bright. Your back is turned so you don’t hear Harry approaching, continuing to sing aloud as you work.

“We only have each other, it’s just you and me, what are we gonna dooooooo?” You spin around, expecting to only see Sterling watching you, yelping when you find Harry, giggling at the shock on your face.

He bends to look out the window, “Could be wrong, but I think you have to have snow to build a snowman, yeah?”

“You’re early! I wanted to surprise you,” You weave your way around boxes to greet him, “Left the tree for the 3 of us to do together though.”

“S’nice of you.” His hands remain in his pockets as you move closer, tired eyes looking down at you, lazy smile as you work your arms around his waist. He doesn’t make you wait long, freeing his hands from his pockets to wrap around you. 

He buries his face in your neck, “Missed you today.”

“We missed you too, H.”

He pulls back, turning to look down at Sterling, his arm still holding you close to his side, “He’s growing too fast. Can’t believe he’s already 5 weeks.”

“5 weeks and 3 days,” You remind him, “All the mommy blogs say we have an infant now.”

“S’that s’pose to mean? ‘Course he’s an infant.”

“Just means he’s growing out of his tiny baby stage.”

He directs his attention back to the movie playing, laughing as he teases you, “Least y’could’ve done is found a proper Christmas movie t’play while you put up decorations.”

You shrug, “It’s close enough to count. Plus he LOVES it. Think Elsa might be his favorite.”

He can’t resist anymore. As comfortable as his son may be swaying back and forth in his swing, he bends to scoop him up, one hand cradling behind his head and the other behind his back to easily support him. Sterling clearly doesn’t mind, a grin developing when he realizes who it is disturbing him.

“Don’t care what anyone says, bub. Y’ll always be daddy’s baby.”

You never doubted Harry’s capacity to love his son, but you definitely questioned his expertise and knowledge of the basics of caring for a child. He had become somewhat experienced now, tackling late night diaper changes and early morning feedings or anything else in between without complaint when he could. 

Though he had done great, you were never too far away that you couldn’t offer assistance when he needed it. So when he gets a rare day off and suggests you let him stay home with the baby while you run errands, you’re hesitant.  

“Do ya not trust me?”

“Of course I do. You know I do. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“S’just for a few hours, right? You can write out a list of his schedule if it makes y’feel better.”

Sterling’s stretched across your lap, dozing off while you try to finish the last of your breakfast. Harry stands at the counter, drinking coffee out of a bright pink mug. You look between your almost sleeping son and then back up to Harry, chewing a bite of toast as you contemplate the idea.

He doesn’t take offense to your hesitation, quite the opposite actually. He adores the sight of you, Sterling’s face squished against your chest; one of his hands tucked under his chin, the other wrapped around your side, his little fist holding tight to your t-shirt. It’s the purest form of love in his eyes, to see the bond between mother and son grow and deepen with each day. Makes him reminiscent of his connection with his own mother, fills his heart with so much joy knowing he had chosen someone that would give his son the same sweet upbringing he had.

He makes his way back around the counter to you, a hand resting on the top of Sterling’s head as he bends down to kiss the top of yours. He moves his hand, repeating the act of affection to the top of the baby’s head. 

“Really proud of you, y’know that right, baby? Been so amazing watching you take care of yourself and our little boy, never doubted for a second you were meant for this, but it’s been more incredible than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Proud of you too, H. Know you’ve had a lot of guilt about being gone, but Sterling and I love you so much. He already lights up at the sound of your voice when you FaceTime us from set, and I see the way he grins at you before he falls asleep when you’re here to tuck him in at night.” 

His eyes meet yours, sees the moment you make your decision to say yes, deep exhale of warm breath trapped between the two of you, “You have to promise to call if anything happens, if you need anything at all. Don’t care how small it is.” He nods firmly, further setting your mind at ease, “He should sleep most of the time I’m gone, but I’ll prepare another bottle just in case I can’t get back in time.”

You feel silly for feeling so protective, and you were thankful to have Harry as your partner on this journey. His patience and support had been more than generous, covering you and Sterling in more love and adoration than you’d ever known could exist from one person. He kisses you again, on your lips this time, a hand cupping one side of your face before gently lifting Sterling from your arms, shushing and bouncing him a bit when he starts to whimper from the sudden change in his comfortable position.

“S’okay, bubs. Daddy’s got you, g’nna have us a lil’ boys day while mumma’s gone.” 

You rush through whatever tasks you had scheduled that seemed so important that morning. Suddenly the groceries you needed and last minute presents you were dropping off at the post office to mail to out of town family didn’t matter, nothing did but getting back home to your boys.

It’s quiet when you shut the door behind you, almost too quiet. As much as you always prayed he would, Sterling never slept through his morning nap, so you’re surprised at the possibility of him still sleeping peacefully. Not that he was old enough to make too much noise yet, but still the silence worries you enough that you don’t even take the time to put away the groceries. You set the bags on the kitchen counter, making your way through the house to the living room first.

All your concern fades at the sight of Harry on the couch, Sterling snuggled in his arms with his back pressed against Harry’s front, his little body covered in a red and white striped onesie with a reindeer on the front, matching pair of green socks on his tiny feet. It’s such a comforting image, you once again question why you had any doubt at the thought of leaving the two of them alone. Harry hasn’t noticed your presence yet, or if he has he hasn’t said anything, and you’re content to keep it that way for a few more minutes to observe the vision set before you.

You notice the movie that’s playing, it’s the same one from a few nights ago that Harry teased you for. You cross your arms, quirking one eyebrow upwards before you repeat Harry’s words from that night out loud, “Boys day, huh? Could’ve at least found a proper Christmas movie to watch while I was gone.”

“I’ve decided you’re right, it does count. I can see why he loves it so much.” He looks up at you from where you lean over back of the couch now, a soft “hi” falling from his lips, tilting his head up to accept the kiss you offer. Sterling coos, and when you look down, he’s looking up at you too. 

“Mommy missed you too, baby boy.”

“Come sit with us, lovie, watch the rest of the movie.”

“Gimme a minute to put the groceries away and I will.”

“I’ll pause it and come help.”

“No, stay,” You run your hand through his hair, pushing the curls away from his face, “There’s not that much, I got it.”

You work swiftly to put everything away, taking a minute to change back into your pajamas before you rejoin them, curling yourself against Harry’s side under his free arm. Sterling’s dozing again, most likely falling into a milk coma from the bottle he had just finished, but it doesn’t stop the two of you from continuing to watch the same movie together. You offer to take Sterling or put him in his swing, but he just shakes his head no, clinging tighter to him and you.

“S’my favorite part, this song.”

“What? It’s the saddest one. Elsa and Anna’s parents die in this one.” 

He shrugs, careful not to shuffle Sterling and disturb his sleep, “Maybe, but s’catchy, gets stuck in my head more than the others.” 

He begins humming along to the intro music, nudging you softly to persuade you to start singing along with the character on the screen. You sit up, dramatically clearing your throat before you do. Harry knows more of the words than he cares to admit, but would rather hear the lyrics sung by you. He giggles at you as you even change your voice to mimic the silly parts.

“It gets a little lonely. All these empty rooms. Just watching the hours tick by…”

Harry provides the tick-tock part, clicking his tongue off-tune to the ones playing in the song. That’s enough to make you laugh out loud, temporarily forgetting the sleeping baby now resting on Harry’s chest. He shushes you playfully, his body shaking through his own laughter thankfully soothing Sterling enough that he doesn’t wake up.

You compose yourself as the song turns slow and mournful, tucking yourself back to Harry’s side again. His hand works around to cup your waist, squeezing lightly to pull you closer, the vibrations of him humming along again a comforting rumble against your body. His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as he sings the last notes of the song.

“We only have each other. It's just you and me. What are we gonna doooooo?”

Your eyes scan the whole of the room. Your boys nestled together next to you, the tree in the corner of the room the 3 of you had decorated together a few days before, the pile of presents that had already accumulated underneath it. You spot your favorite ornament, a silver star with Sterling’s full name engraved on the front, “Baby’s First Christmas” etched on the back. Sterling’s first present from your family sent from home. Well, what used to be your home for the holidays. A smile spreads across your face at the simple happiness and realization that this is your home now. 

Harry, Sterling, and you; sun, moon, and star, spending your first holiday together.

 //

Thank you all for reading! As always likes/rbs/and comments are more than welcome. Tell me what you think here!

tag list: @taintedwonder​, @cock-a-doodely-doo

[mishkakagehishka]

A Twisted Crossover | Twisted Wonderland Collab

!! I'm very excited to post this! A Twisted Wonderland collab with the wonderful @sammo-writes-whatever, featuring her OC Yumeko Amane, and my own Jure Bodulić :D I hope reading this will be as fun as it was for me to work on it, and be sure to check Sammy's blog for the Yumeko POV <3

Word count: 3852 Concept: The prologue of Twisted Wonderland, up until chapter 5, but instead of a solitary Yuu finding themselves alone in a new world, the twist comes from two people who'd never even met beforehand being isekai'd into the world of Twisted Wonderland

"So," as early summer doves sang, three high schoolers were sitting in a park, on short stone walls, able to finally relax after the final exam of the year. "Some exam that was, huh?" The tallest of the group, a lively boy appropriately nicknamed Vrcko, opened the conversation. "Stop it. It's over, I don't wanna think about it until the results come out." Taking a swig of some soda, the gloomy one of the bunch answered. "It's over now, anyway. If we pass, we pass, and if we fail…" "Lighten up, Roko. I thought the exam went just fine." The third, a mop-haired brunette with a lopsided smile, chided. "Don't say that, Jure, you'll curse yourself," Vrcko said. "Curses don't exist, stupid." "No, no, they do," Vrcko refused to be silenced, "My cousin's friend had a classmate who said she aced the essay, but ended up failing it. You'll curse yourself if you say it went fine." "You're an idiot. What else do you believe in? Magic? Is there a spell to make you see reality?" "There's a science to these things, bro!" "Anecdotal evidence is not real evidence." "There he goes again! Why do we even hang out with him, eh, Roko?"

Jure merely rolled his eyes, but still chuckled at the usual silliness. He looked out at the sky. Not a single cloud in sight, but the Sun was as merciless as always. It almost made him feel faint. The soda was cooling enough, but the clothes they had to wear to stay in line with the hellish dress code did very little to help keep him cool. Actually, he started to feel really faint.

Roko was the first to notice - the way Jure's eyes seemed to fade in and out of focus. He was swaying ever so slightly, as if he was moments away from fainting. "Hey? Jure, you okay?" He inquired. "Uh? Yeah, fine, just a little… this heat, you know? I'm feeling kinda… sick to my stomach." "Better you get sick after the exam than during, right?" Vrcko, true to his character, tried to lighten the mood, but took initiative by looping an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Lie down here for a moment." He guided Jure to lay properly on the wall, fanning him with his hand. "I'm gonna go buy some water, I don't think soda'll do him good now. Roko, watch him!" "Yessir," Roko responded unenthusiastically. "That's an older brother for ya, huh?" "Yeah… you can really tell he's got an army of little sisters." "You're making jokes. Good to know you're not dying." "Shut up, man. I've no idea what's happening, I feel like…"

He felt like he was hallucinating. Every time he closed his eyes to give them a rest, visions of a large building covered in darkness and a starless night sky arching over it invaded his mind. It was unlike anything he had seen before. It resembled a gothic castle, appearing both welcoming and intimidating all at once. And he could hear a voice, someone talking about a mirror. To a mirror? He saw a mirror. A young man was reflected in it, but it wasn't himself. An outstretched hand, inviting to be taken, and the voice repeating not to let go of it. Jure felt as if he was being invited, called. As if he was being told to follow the person in the mirror. Vocalising those thoughts to Roko, he only received a hum in response. "It's not a heatstroke, is it?" "If you got a heatstroke in the fifteen minutes we were sitting here, you probably have other issues. I'd look into those voices talking about mirrors, too." A pause. "Roko." Jure's voice now sounded alarmed. He was still laying on his back, his forearm shielding his forehead from the Sun and Roko sitting by his feet. Both were facing the road. Both were staring with eyes as wide as saucers, breaths stuck in their throats. "Yeah?" "You see the carriage and the devil-horse, too, right?" "... yeah. Yeah, I see it." "What the fuck?"

That's the moment where Jure's memories turn fuzzy. There is a large gap, there must be a large gap, between seeing that carriage, and where he found himself now. Standing in robes that looked fancier than anything he's ever worn, face-to-face with the angriest talking raccoon he's ever seen, and the most horrible gut feeling he's ever had.

A headache that grinds out at the bones of the skull, and a deafening ringing in the ears. That's what Jure registered first as he regained conscience. But his eyes open to darkness, and he realises he's enclosed in a tight space of sorts. As he felt around, trying to find a way out, he noticed how constricted his movements were. He was no longer wearing the simple t-shirt and jeans he remembers wearing moments prior - he was wearing some sort of robes. "What the…" he mumbled, pushing against the wooden walls of his cage. The space wasn't even big enough for him to spread his arms, but the boy tried his best to push his entire weight on the panel before him, the one he had felt budge during his feeling around, but it was as if it was locked with a chain.

There was some commotion outside, he could hear a high-pitched voice talking about becoming a great magician… and then there was the crackling and flowing sound of flames. Was there a fire? Jure, once more, shoved his entire weight on the front panel, managing to finally break it. He fell face first, but he finally felt as if he could take a deep breath, his lungs aching for oxygen he hadn't even noticed he was missing. As his eyes adjusted, he looked around - he was in a large, dark room, with a mirror in its centre, and right in his field of vision were a short girl with silver hair and a… cat with flaming ears? The cat was also talking. "Did I pass out? Am I dreaming?" He mumbled to himself. The girl was wearing odd clothes, he noticed, which reminded him of his own feeling of constriction earlier. Looking down, he confirmed to himself that he was indeed wearing robes. They seemed to have been made from quality material, but he was just as confused about them as he was about the rest of the situation.

"Dreaming about getting roasted by a raccoon with a European boy, that’s a new one!” the girl giggled when she noticed him, a hand demurely placed on her mouth. And Jure frowned, shooting her a weird look with a raised eyebrow. He thought he was the only one confused here, but as it seems, this was dreamlike to the girl, as well. It's not as if he can deny the possibility of this being just a dream himself though, it's the far more realistic option, even if it was quite the vivid dream "Well, keep dreaming! 'Cause I ain't no raccoon!" the cat responded. The cat responded? "The cat talks?" Jure said to no one in particular. "Not a cat either!" it protested.

The girl went on to comment how this must have been the weirdest dream she'd ever had, and Jure couldn't help but agree. He's had his fair share of odd dreams here and there, but none this weird, and certainly not all this vivid. His friends would get a kick out of hearing the details about it, though.

As he was thinking about it, however, he saw the girl seemed to have been considering something. He was about to ask, before the creature spewed more flames, and she ran towards him. Grabbing his hand, the girl pulled him as she ran through the corridors and hallways. Her hand was small, as was the rest of her, but he was taken aback by the contrasting boldness she held in just grabbing him and running like that. Still, he followed.

He couldn't deny that she was intriguing, and he may as well try to make a friend with someone as equally new to the situation as he was, even if it were a dream. He looked at their surroundings as they ran. He's never seen an interior this fancy, but by the signs, he reckoned it must have been a school. Maybe a boarding school for some sort of rich kids. How he'd got there was anyone's guess.

After some time of running, which felt like hours to him, they arrived at a library. At least, Jure thought it was a library. Bent over, hands leaned on his knees, he panted trying to catch his breath. "If this is a dream," he lamented between breaths, "I wanna wake up." Nothing quite like aimlessly complaining. Taking another raspy breath, he stood upright again, scanning their surroundings. It was a fairly large and open room, books strewn everywhere and some even floating. He didn't want to think about the logistics of flying books any more than about the talking, flame-spewing creature they saw. But he then looked at the girl again. As he was about to try and introduce himself, he only managed to open his mouth before that creature burst in, breathing flames left and right haphazardly. The girl tensed and seemed to have hidden herself behind Jure, who, perhaps on instinct, spread his arms in a protective manner, attempting to shield her. "Oi, what the hell do you want, you… you freak of nature?" he asked the creature. “Freak of- how dare you?! Foolish humans! Did you really think that you could get away from ME? Now, unless you wanna get burnt to a crisp, take off that-”

But before it could finish its tirade, the sound of a whip echoed through the library, and Jure closed his eyes, wincing at the sound. That must have hurt - but he's thankful it wasn't him in its place. He lowered his hands slightly, expecting whoever saved them from the creature to be on their side. "You okay?" He whispered to the girl, before bringing his attention back to the newcomer.

And boy, was it a newcomer that demanded attention. An adult man around Jure's height, wearing a suit with blue details, keys and mirror fragments dangling from his vest, and the most peculiar mask sitting atop his face. Crow-like. The mask concealed his eyes, leaving only glowing yellow dots in their place. Jure couldn't tell if he was wrong to lower his guard around the man or not, but, surely, if he wanted to harm them, he would have already done so. Regardless, he didn't move from his spot in front of the girl. For some reason, he couldn't fully trust the man in front of them. "Ah, I've found you at last," the man started talking, his voice almost melodic, "Splendid! I trust you two are this year's new students?" "Students? But I just finished-" "My, were you ever eager to make your debut. And even bringing along an untrained familiar…" "As if I'd ever listen to some human! Let go of the Great-" the creature's voice was muffled by the man, who constricted further the whip. He seemed to hold no care for others' input, from the way he was ignoring both the creature and Jure. "Yes, yes, rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet, will you?" The man continued to talk about a student orientation, gateways and coffins, on and on. Mere nonsense to Jure, who was too busy trying to figure out whether he was sleeping, or dying and in some weird limbo between life and death in which he was seeing hallucinations and visions.

Jure found it wiser to keep his mouth shut, given he was in the most unknown situation of his life to date. What was he to do, but listen to the man speak, try and take it all in without losing his mind? It was a dream, or a vision anyway. Either way, he'll wake up, and his friends will make fun of him for passing out in the middle of a park. Maybe even get chided by a granny who'd think they got drunk at three in the afternoon. The girl was the one who interrupted the man, however.

Jure was surprised, for a mere moment, but this girl also grabbed him and ran minutes ago, her boldness is something he'd already noted about her. It was commendable, he thought, but it might get her hurt. He tried to motion to her to be quiet, but decided against it. The man didn't seem to want to hurt them, in fact, he thought of them as students. She'd seem disrespectful at worst. But it was a moment between that thought and realising the man's attention was suddenly on him. He'd asked Jure something, this man, but the boy wasn't paying attention. "Umm…" he trailed off, bringing his hand to the back of his neck in a defensive stance and looking away, "Sorry…" he added, quietly, hoping whatever it was that he was asked was answerable with an apology. “No matter. I will explain while we walk. For I am gracious!” The way he emphasised the word "gracious" made shivers run down Jure's spine. For some reason, he couldn't imagine the man was being honest. But explain he did.

"This," He motioned around them, a grand wave of his hands trying to emphasise the grandeur of their surroundings, "is Night Raven College. A school of great history and even greater prestige. We have been operating for well over a century, and you are both immensely lucky to have been chosen by the black carriage - by this very institution! Indeed, for potential mages of such great luck, you sure are an impulsive pair," though he muttered the last part. "Ahem! In any case. And I am this proud school's current headmaster, Dire Crowley. At your service." "Um, mages? Like, magic? Magical mages?" Jure repeated, the cogs in his brain hitting a snag on that specific word. "Well, yes, that is why you are here, is it not? Night Raven College, after all, is one of the most prestigious magic schools." "Magic...?!"

To say Jure was at a loss of words was an understatement. He was skirting the edges of disbelief and the aching knowledge of this being far too vivid for a mere dream. But magic? That was a step too far. "But magic doesn't- it's not real…" he muttered under his breath, his sight suddenly turning fuzzy. But how else would he explain the happenings of the past day? Have 24 hours even passed already? It was midday when he was whisked away, yet now it was already night-time. The loss of an entire day, the demonic horse and night-black carriage; the awakening in a coffin to a cat that huffs and puffs flames; and this man. Dire Crowley. Even Jure knew there was something odd about him, about his pointed ears and hidden - yet reflective - eyes. It wasn't quite human and, if such non-human yet sentient beings existed, beings like that damned cat, as well, then why is magic a step too far? Perhaps, Jure pondered, because magic was easier to deny. He hadn't seen any yet, not any real magic.

He hadn't even noticed when he'd squatted down, desperate to feel grounded, hands pressed against the cold stone below them, until Crowley spoke once more, urging them to leave for an orientation. Gravity felt stronger at that moment and he felt as if his whole body was resisting his attempt at straightening up.

Said orientation took place in a room dripping in opulence, an aura of ceremony and importance, yet thickly veiled in darkness. The room in which he woke up, that he could only now fully take in. Looking around, the entire room was in the colours of the night, with the most prominent source of light being the large ornate mirror in the centre of the room. The room was filled to the brim with youngsters Jure deemed to be close in age to himself, all dressed in the same weird robes. Almost like a uniform of sorts. He watched the youngest-looking of the sort stepping up to the mirror, proclaiming their names, and promptly being told by a face in the mirror where their "soul belongs" - it's wrong to assume that Jure had come to terms with the existence of magic, he merely stopped questioning it for a moment. He felt if he continued, he’d have a total breakdown, after all. Looks-wise, he’d assumed the people who surrounded him were all students, at a high school age. There were a couple of those students who stood out, those who, as he understood, were heads of the dorms the mirror was pointing the students to. All peculiar in their own ways, to be sure.

Yet, at the same time, the one who stood out the most was the girl who seemed to be in the same situation as Jure. She was the first other human he saw after waking up, and she seemed just as new to this whole thing as he was, so, naturally, he felt intrigued. Still cautious, knowing he'd just barely met her that day and didn't even learn her name yet, he observed her from the corner of his eye. Hair a vibrant silver, not unlike a few other students he saw there, and striking blue eyes. But above all, he noted how young she looked. Not just because of her height, but her face, and even the way she carried herself, in a way, made Jure question if she was even at an age to be accepted into a high school. Of course, that only made this whole situation even weirder to him. He'd have thought she might have been a gifted child, a prodigy who skipped a few grades, if not for the few glaring details. The most important of which, being that they were both strangers here. Nobody was as confused or as lost as they seemed to be, that much was obvious. It would be unwise to let their guards down.

He kept an eye on the girl as they were called to approach the mirror, realising her age and stature might make her a target for any ne'er-do-wells. While he couldn't say he would be overly eager to protect a stranger whom he has no connections to, he felt responsible for her. He carried an ideal of an older brother, despite not having any younger siblings himself, and the idea of a child like her getting hurt while he was in the vicinity simply did not sit right with him. Besides, they both were in unknown and new situations, a school unlike any other, with supposed mages all around them. They were already allies through that, is what he thought, so it would only be right to watch her back.

The mirror asked for his name, and he felt eyes prodding at his back as he whispered the answer out. A quiet, "Jure Bodulić," his head bent down. The mirror, rather, the face in the mirror was almost grotesque, resembling a painted theatrical mask. It moved in emphasised, almost animated, motions, mouth widening and cheekbones pulling apart as it hummed and thought, pondering the response. Jure himself had no idea what the response could be; he had no idea what constituted the colour of a soul, or what that had to do with school dorms. But maybe that's why the mirror was there, perhaps nobody knew? Perhaps not. The mask scrunched its non-existent nose up in faux disgust - before stating that the colour of his soul was unclear to it. "I sense no magical powers from these two. Soundless. Colourless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant," it began. "Well, okay, I don't think we deserve the name-calling," Jure protested. "Therefore," it continued as if it wasn't even interrupted, "no dorm would be appropriate."

The rest of the night was a ride. That talking cat-creature made a mess of the rest of the ceremony, before getting collared, quite literally, by a boy with hair as red as his temper. It was a show, a good one as far as Jure was concerned, but it hardly made him overlook the problem that arose. The mirror, and the school itself through it, rejected them. They were told they had no way back home because neither the girl's nor his home countries even existed in this place. This place, as Jure was enlightened to, being a completely new world. A separate plane. An alternative dimension. Something to that tune, something that he was way too tired to think about. As he thought - the girl and he were strangers here.

Crowley told them not to worry (a paradox if Jure ever saw one, the man was as trustworthy as the town's gossip, and he knew him for a mere hour at that point), that he was far too gracious to kick them out when they had no way home, nor money to care for themselves. That he would give them a place to stay in exchange for labour. Fair enough. While he was laying out those terms, Jure let his mind wander again. The girl seemed shaken. Of course she did - he reprimanded himself - anyone would be. He was also shaken, he wasn't going to deny it, this whole evening was just one thing after another. In a somewhat awkward show of support, he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly and giving her a reassuring smile. Or, as reassuring as he could make it considering he was worried and tired himself. He hoped the gesture would make her feel, if anything, as if she had an ally by her side; someone she could count on.

They both agreed to the headmaster's terms, for what other choice did they have, and followed him outside. Jure immediately noted how cold it was. The nip in the air wasn't freezing by any means, but it was uncomfortable. He can't imagine it was still early summer, as it was before he was transported here (still a reality that will take getting used to). When he looked over to the girl, checking to see how she was faring, their eyes met. Hers were so big and bright, and he hoped it was truly a reflection of her soul. At that moment, he remembered he still didn't know her name. "I'm Jure Bodulić," he offered with the friendliest smile he could muster. "What's your name?" He might as well attempt to befriend her, between it seeming like they'll be stuck here for a while and not to mention living under the same roof, it seemed like a smart idea to form an allyship with the other "new kid". "I'm Yumeko," she answered. "Yumeko Amane." "Good, good. Nice to meet you, Yumeko. Guess we'll be roomies from now on." He mused. Off to a good start, he thought. He hoped.

[neonponders]

Oh lord, here we go. Don’t be surprised if my sugardaddy!Billy and couture Steve turns into five parts orz for now, here’s part 3!

This is originally a birthday gift for @lazybakerart 💋and @edith-moonshadow enabled me to keep going with this with their Harringrove for Palestine donation🙏🏻.

Part 1 here ~ Part 2 here ~ read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

A week passed.

Billy didn’t leave a number for Steve to call, and when he tried to phone Billy’s secretary, she gave him a bullshit lie about international calls needing to occur within a certain timeframe, etc. Steve understood he was butting into Billy’s goings-on, during an hour he couldn’t play civilian.

That was another aspect of their relationship they kept dodging.

Steve did not consider white-collar crime unfamiliar. In fact, it’s wildly rampant in society; it just takes the right lawyers and judges to keep things swept under the rug.

Maybe Billy didn’t talk about it for the same reason Steve didn’t open up about his fears of being disposable. When they managed a safe little time capsule where underlying circumstances didn’t exist, things went great. Splendid, even.

But time capsules have to open at some point.

Billy called Steve.

“Hello?” he said to the unfamiliar number. If he sounded a little miffed, it’s because he’d taken more spam calls than genuine correspondences this past week, having not known what Billy’s international number was—

“Steve.”

That sounded…wrong.

“Billy?”

He could hear the man’s breath on the receiver. Heavier than it should have been. “I know you don’t like this. But I need you to come here.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Stupid question. Billy sounded half the man he was. Steve wanted to know what happened to the other half.

“I’m injured. I’ll be fine—”

“Define ‘injured.’”

“Steve,” Billy huffed like a laugh, but Steve could hear it stick in his throat. He hovered in the middle of his apartment, helpless to do anything but hold the phone to his ear. “I’m not arguing right now. Could you just…get in the car that comes to pick you up?”

“A car? What kind of car?”

“The driver will use the buzzer of your building. They won’t come up. Just get in the car and then the plane—”

“Plane? Billy, where did you go?”

He laughed again, a little of his voice leaking into it. “Steve, please. Can I see you or not?”

Steve croaked into the receiver, revolving listlessly in his apartment while his brain failed to keep up. “I-I—wha—um.”

Except, despite everything, like how very likely he would come back to only one or no jobs, it really wasn’t a choice for Steve. His chest ached for Billy. He missed the bastard’s smug smiles and longed for the animation he let fill his face when he relaxed with Steve.

And he felt the itch of being wanted. His ingrained eagerness to be with the person who needed him.

All of it scrambled in his brain so Steve wound up raising his voice while fisting his hair, “A plane? I have to pack! What do I pack?”

Billy’s voice came out breathily on the phone, like he filled it with relief. “You don’t need to pack anything—”

“I NEED PANTS, BILLY!”

Steve got in the car.

Steve got on the plane.

The stupid private jet in which Steve could have his own disco if he wanted because it seemed like only he and the pilot were on the damn thing. He brought the book Billy had gifted him about The New Yorker for something to distract himself, even though he mostly stared blankly at the pages while he waited for the plane to land.

A part of him expected to arrive in the middle of nowhere. Which, to be fair, they had to land in a private hanger outside of the city. But then the next car took him amongst grand buildings and turned into a narrow side street only residents would use. Steve burst upon the sidewalk, only hindered briefly by the receiving of a hotel key and the remark, “Room 532.”

Steve skipped the elevator. He wore heels in his spare time; he would’ve beaten the lift anyway.

As with any hotel, the key took some figuring out, but when he managed, he stepped into the suite. “Billy?”

It smelled like any other nice hotel. Cream carpets and matching walls. A splash of color on the rumpled bedspread amongst Billy’s clutter. Steve followed the floor plan of the sitting room to the bedroom and then the bathroom, where he heard the shower running. He knocked on the door, “Billy?”

And then louder, “Billy?”

“Come in.”

Steve carefully pushed into the room, unsure what he’d find…

What looked like two open first aid kits sat on the counter. Steve couldn’t read anything from those alone, but he didn’t have to because the shower was a large, glass cubicle. It stood big enough for four people. Billy sat on the floor, his chest wrapped in sodden cotton and gauze; barefoot underneath his black slacks. Steve opened the glass door as Billy lifted his head—

He knelt on the hard tiles, putting his arms around Billy’s neck to greet him, to hold him. Cool tendrils seeped through Steve’s hair, soft claws over his scalp until the water properly soaked his strands.

“Steve, your clothes.”

Instead of answering, he looked at the shower knobs and turned the hot water up. As soon as heat seeped over them, Billy melted against him. His head fell easily where Steve pulled him into the bend of his neck. Billy’s hands fumbled a little to find him, but all he could do was grasp onto him to avoid bending or twisting his injured torso.

Steve remained kneeling over him long past being soaked through.

He did not cry until Steve undressed, leaving his sodden raiment on the shower floor to retrieve the scissors from the first aid kits. He carefully snipped through the ruined gauze and medical tape. Soon a pile of white, and diluted pinkish-orange blood also sat on the floor. Whoever had stitched up Billy’s sides had done a good job, but Steve had to dry him off and rebind him.

After the first wince, Billy came undone. Steve wished he could say something to make it easier, but all he had were small reassurances and quietly given orders.

“Can you hold this here?”

“Lift your arm up.”

“Hang on. Almost done.”

An odd talent of Steve’s: tolerating pain with silent grace. A skill which Billy ironically lacked. But where Steve withheld, Billy knew how to release. Perhaps here was one of their bridges.

“Put your arm around me. Lift with your legs.”

The towels Steve put over their shoulders helped them grip one another. Once standing, Billy halted, “Wait. Take these off.”

To each of their credit, neither made a joke as Billy’s trousers and underwear landed with a wet slosh next to Steve’s pile. Steve wrapped his towel around his waist once Billy sat on the bed. With his hands freed, he went about drying Billy’s hair with his towel and opening the bed for Billy to fall into.

“Have you taken any meds?”

“Nothing spectacular.”

His head sagged on the pillow, following Steve to the bathroom, where he found an ibuprofen bottle and shook out two tablets. His eyes followed Steve’s hand raking his hair off his face, and the movement of his throat around a swallow. The filling of a glass at one of the sinks.

Billy let him wrangle a pillow underneath his body so he could swallow the pills with ease. Before he did so, Billy informed, “The blue pill bottle is sleeping meds.”

Steve went and read the label, even peeling the thing off to read the lengthy underside. “When did you last eat?”

“I’ll eat tomorrow. I need to rest now.”

But Steve went into the living room and pilfered through the mini fridge. He returned with apple juice and a granola bar. “If you take this on an empty stomach, you might vomit. I’m not letting you suffocate in your sleep.”

“They put that on there to avoid lawsuits,” Billy complained even while he accepted the juice bottle. He munched slowly, almost carefully on the sugar-glazed nuts of the granola bar while…

Steve got dressed. In Billy’s clothes.

He crouched right in between Billy’s suitcase and the open wardrobe to select one of his long-sleeves and boxer briefs. Billy blinked softly, feeling warmth blossom through his chest and sink through his belly.

Regardless, he sassed, “You’re not gonna sleep naked with me?”

Steve climbed next to him, facing him as if he intended to get up again soon. He tore into his own granola bar. “I don’t know what to expect with you. I’d rather not be forced out of the building naked.”

Billy’s hand touched his leg as he bit into the bar. “Nothing’s going to happen. There’s a menu on the table out there. Order room service.”

“Tomorrow,” Steve refused with a cheek full of almonds. “We’ll eat tomorrow. Or…when the sun’s up in two hours.”

Billy didn’t ask him to, but Steve stroked fingers through his hair after Billy took his sleeping medicine. “Don’t leave,” he moaned tiredly, the force of the little pill dragging him under.

“I’m not leaving. But you can’t octopus me in your sleep.”

Billy sighed, intending for more words to come out than the ones that did. “…test me…”

When his breaths came and went like the heavy sway of the ocean, Steve kept petting through his hair. Even though Billy couldn’t hear him anymore, Steve sighed, “Scared the shit out of me, idiot. I missed you. Don’t do that.”

Billy hummed in his sleep as if he heard him. Even drugged unconscious, the man tried to retort.

Steve leaned down to kiss his temple and tucked him in to keep him warm. When a knock on the door sounded, Steve donned one of the bathrobes and held a shoehorn behind the door as he answered. The shoehorn was a ridiculous ornate thing from the wardrobe; more like a walking stick than a device to help a heel slip into a boot.

The woman on the other side of the door dressed as expensively as Billy and appeared just as austere. Steve had never seen her before even though she acted like she knew him. “Is he well?”

“He’s asleep. What do you need?”

“To go over his intended schedule for today.”

“Reschedule it. He isn’t doing anything for at least two days.”

She did not look anxious. Merely…disappointed? “That will be…difficult.”

“He’s a difficult man,” Steve sighed, his posture tilting back into the room and warranting an end to this discussion. “Whoever expects to see him likely knows that.”

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington,” she dismissed.

“What is your name?” he halted.

“Elena Varma. Hargrove knows me as Elicit Vagina.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, and if she were anyone other than Billy’s secretary and personal guard, now would be the time to take his head off. Instead, she elaborated, “I’m a lesbian.”

“Right,” he nodded dazedly. “Are you single? I know somebody.”

Her dark eyes narrowed at him, but her mouth and brows moved with amusement. Like a test, she inquired, “Are they butch?”

“No,” he said a bit perplexedly, thinking of Robin’s amber blond bob and all of her many-colored Converse on which she doodled.

A pause. Then, “Does she have bad taste?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ll be in touch.”

Steve exhaled, “Great,” under his breath as he shut the door. Crossing over to the living room, he set the shoehorn down and picked up the room service menu.

When Billy’s eyes next opened, it was to the beckoning of dishware clatter and summons of browned butter and tangy, aromatic cheese.

Steve sat much as he last remembered, sitting facing Billy while a tray sat where his pillows ought to be. A cart of more food stood by the food of the bed. Billy’s blurry gaze traveled back to Steve, who chewed on a croissant with a newspaper, of all things, in his hand.

It was perfect.

Minus the abhorrent headache and parchedness of his throat.

“Coffee.”

Billy couldn’t not smile at the wide eyes that lifted up to him. Steve rushed to swallow the lump in his cheek and handed him his glass of water from the tray. Billy shook his head. “No. Coffee.”

“Water first.”

Billy sighed and leaned over as much as his injured side allowed him to. He drained the glass. And he never got his coffee. Steve made him drink a strong cup of tea, as if that would replace Billy’s usual espresso in the morning.

“Your, um, personal assistant came by. She knows to reschedule all of your—whatever you do. I said you need two days.”

“Two days?” Billy chirped in the middle of grumbling over his tea. “That’s a vacation.”

Steve huffed a sound, but looked toward the window and it’s sheer, white curtains. “What street are we on?”

“What was that sound?” Billy diverted.

Steve looked at him. “What sound?”

“The sound you just made.”

“You mean the sound of you complaining that I work too much but consider two days a vacation. That sound?”

“Yeah, that sound,” he remarked. “I stand by what I said. You don’t need two jobs.”

“Billy, you got stabbed yesterday. Twice. Or whatever the hell happened to you.”

“I’ll have you know I was only stabbed once. The side mirror of a moving car clipped my other side.”

Whatever mirth he intended to be in that statement wilted in the face of Steve’s glare. Billy took the silent admonishment with grace and, after a moment, said, “I’m not the criminal you think I am.”

“I never said you were one.”

“Walking around with a stab wound and clear assault damage isn’t helping my case,” he responded with another unhappy sip of his tea. At least Steve put milk and sugar in it. Dessert for breakfast.

“Long story short: I got a job and the old man CEO noticed me. He liked me a lot. I was the one male secretary in the place; it was easy to notice me. The women liked me—”

“Women have always liked you,” Steve retorted quietly. But he set his things on the tray and laid across the bed to pillow his head on Billy’s thigh.

He gazed up at him while Billy continued, “It was easy. If the head of a building likes you, job promotions come fast. Training happens in the boss’s own office. Then the asshole died and both his heir, and the board, did not take it well to my name being in the will. I’ve been cleaning up a lot of their mess.”

Steve listened and processed, “This heir was driving the car?”

Billy snorted and instantly grimaced for the pain it caused him. Steve began to get up for the painkillers, but Billy’s fingers plunged into his hair; not gripping him, but softly holding his head. “Stay. I’m fine. No, I doubt the idiot even has a license. He can’t aim a blade, either. He’s running out of money, that’s why he’s so desperate.”

“Where is he now?”

Billy’s head tilted almost piteously at him. “Do you really want to know that?”

“Well I can’t decide which is more romantic: inviting me into a shit storm, or making sure I’m safe first.”

He could see some of the tension leave Billy’s face and shoulders as he reached for Steve’s tray and took his other croissant. “He’s in the hospital. But I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

Steve could read between the lines. “Us trust fund kids. We’re not built for street fighting.”

That earned an animated frown from Billy, who spoke regardless of his full mouth. “You gave me a hell of a wallop once.”

“I lost that fight.”

“You didn’t have a homophobic, retired veteran waiting for you to bring your sister home. And this guy clearly doesn’t have a pretty boy waiting for him or he might’ve won.”

Steve laughed but it faded as he just…marveled at Billy. They had never talked this openly before. However proud of Billy he felt, though, the nagging dark corner of his brain turned his thoughts onto himself. He let slip:

“You work so much harder than me.”

Billy immediately wasn’t having it. His head tilted again but instead of pity, it was chastisement. “Steve.”

“No, no—I just mean I’m proud of you.”

“You can be proud of me without sounding like I’m about to toss you out onto the curb. I just told you the very idea of you helped keep me alive.”

“And I abandoned two jobs and an overpriced apartment to be here, so I hope you mean it. You might be keeping both of us alive for a while—Hey.”

In between thrown bits of croissant and grapes, Billy chided, “I’ve been. Trying. To convince you. That I mean it. And it takes a drive-by to. Get. Your. Attention.”

“Okay! Okay—this is disgusting. Stop it!”

Steve reared up only to be ensnared by Billy’s overstretched arms. Steve caught himself on Billy’s collarbones so he did not press on his chest, tugging the skin on his sides. “B! Be careful.”

A hand cradled the side of Steve’s head as a soft smirk lifted Billy’s mouth. “Let me kiss you.”

Steve, defiant till the last, pushed him down so he didn’t exert himself. Then he kissed Billy slowly, reverently. He liked kissing Billy a whole lot. Loved it. He liked Billy’s taste and the sound of their lips parting before meeting for more. He liked the puffs of Billy’s breath across his cheek and his hands reaching for Steve. Finding him. Holding him.

Eventually, though, Billy whispered against his lips, “Why did you ask what street we’re on?”

Steve rolled his lips together, perhaps seeking a balm for being chapped from kissing, or nerves. “It’s fashion week. We might be able to see stuff from the window.”

Billy claimed one more kiss and then released him to clean up the bed and scout the street below. Billy managed to reach the bathroom on his own, where he took another pair of meds and readied for a day in. With Steve.

Steve, who insisted he stay in bed.

Steve, who found a full-length mirror in the wardrobe and held it half out the window so Billy could see the horizon of the street reflected from his place on the bed. He watched Steve more than anything. His giggles at how ridiculous it was to hold a mirror out the window. When his features relaxed as he watched the traffic and people arriving to a place a few blocks down. When he asked Billy if

“Can you see the red coat? That thing’s massive.”

And, “Somebody famous just got there. The paparazzi are going nuts.”

Steve really should have expected the events of the next day, but Billy still faced the stern glare and long blinks when he sighed. “B, you’ve only rested a day. Your stitches could still tear.”

“One runway isn’t going to kill me. We’ll pop in and not attend the after party. Elicit’s already managed to get tickets—”

“Her name’s Elena,” Steve frowned with his hands on his hips.

“No, it isn’t,” Billy scoffed, and went to dissect Steve’s luggage himself...

He grasped the linen shoe bag, recognizing the shape inside. He lifted one of the Hot Chick 100s. “You took packing seriously, huh?”

Steve seemed to be really grappling with patience. “I didn’t know what you needed. A nurse or a kinky leg to hold onto.”

“So I got both,” he grinned.

A reluctant, little smile pulled at Steve’s face. “I’m not wearing those out.”

Billy had already set the pair on the living room table when he grimaced, “What? Why not?”

Steve glanced at the windows like they might hold an answer. “Because I’ll be giant and make more noise than anyone else in heels.”

Billy wasn’t buying it. He held onto the back of the couch to help himself stand and then made his way to his own clothes. “If there’s any time to wear what you want and get away with it, it’s fashion week. Come here, no one’s going to let you wear jeans beside a runway.”

Billy had way too much fun dressing him. A quiet little warning bell went off in Steve’s head over this, but he couldn’t listen to it without also admitting that he enjoyed himself. One of Billy’s silk button-ups around his body felt nice.

Intimate.

A black suit jacket over it made Steve feel chic and professional. And when Billy asked him to lift his foot onto the bed, Billy double wrapped the chain of his pendant around Steve’s ankle. Amber and opals on one side, and a golden saint on the other.

“If you’re tired or hurt at any point, tell me,” Steve lectured in the car.

“Yes, dear.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, but Billy’s hand on his thigh tightened.

“I know, baby. I’m okay. The show’s not even two hours long. Try to relax. You look real hot.”

Steve snorted and rubbed the silk of his shirt between his fingers. “Is this shirt new?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve never seen you wear it. And it would’ve matched my green shoes,” he added with slanted eyes at him.

“So what if I wanted to match my partner? Try and sue me.”

Partner. Steve caught his face in his hand, eyes aching with the moisture overflowing from his heart.

The car pulled up alongside a bustling street. Elena Varma accompanied them through the open double doors, but she kept to herself. She sheltered Billy’s other side while Steve slid an arm over Billy’s shoulders and held onto him. If a pair of eyes scrutinized them, Billy was hardly the only rich man with a pretty thing in heels on his arm. And people only had compliments for Steve’s classic choice in shoe.

The off-duty models sitting around them in the chairs along the runway were very sweet. Steve and Billy kindly refused their inquiries over attending the later afternoon events, but gratefully accepted their information about the show.

Models talk. And in this world where everyone knows someone who knows everyone, the models explained the architecture of the runway, the designer’s vision, the gossip about the model opening the show, and the model closing the show, etc.

“I like the butterflies,” Steve said, pointing to the ceiling, where a myriad of paper butterflies on wires fluttered with the air conditioning ventilation.

“I like you.”

Steve pointed flustered but narrowed eyes on him. “Are you even paying attention?”

“To the important things,” Billy replied, leaning back with an arm over the back of Steve’s chair. He did contribute, “I like the columns. The effect of the eroded marble and gold filigree is interesting. I enjoy looking at it.”

Steve leaned into him, resting a hand on Billy’s thigh as the lighting changed and the show began. The fashion proved largely sculptural instead of practical, but Steve pointed as models went by.

“My mom would know what that means.”

“If the designer was inspired by Greece, then it’s something mythological. Greece seems to be very in right now.”

“You read my magazines,” Steve accused with a smile.

“I smell the colognes.”

That earned Billy a soft nudge before Steve’s jaw relaxed in sight of a male model striding past them. “You’d look really good in that.”

“The gold speedo?”

“No,” he lightly slapped Billy’s knee. “The shirt.”

“I don’t really go for pastels.”

Steve turned soft eyes on him. He touched the underside of Billy’s chin with a fond knuckle. “You and your jewel tones.”

Then a model turned onto the stage wearing a sweatshirt totally encrusted with jewels. Steve and Billy exchanged looks, which ended with Steve covering his laughter and Billy pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve and Billy left the show with at least one pocket full of models’ agents’ business cards. Steve had taken the time to write the models’ names on each card along with a descriptor, as if they actually intended to remember and reach out to them later that night, should their plans change.

Their plan did not change.

If anything, Steve and Billy only more firmly wanted to retire to their hotel room after they ordered coffees—and Steve nearly broke his ankle stepping off the pavement.

“The puddle lied! The water lied to me,” he lamented through laughter, having thought that the water was far shallower than it actually proved to be. He powered through their venture in the coffee shop, but as soon as they were in the car, Billy pulled his leg up to inspect his ankle and Steve held up one of the shoes.

“Holy shit. Look at that.” The flat of the heel now had a harsh angle to it, as if he’d worn these shoes for a decade instead of thrown off his stride by a waterlogged pothole. Both shoes had water and grit on the insides too.

“I’m sorry, B. These might need some work—Oo!”

Billy had touched his ice coffee to Steve’s ankle. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” he said on a lighter note. “The ladies we sat with were really nice.”

“What about the show?”

That gave Steve pause. “Um. Honestly? They all walked too fast for me to really see much.”

Billy laughed so hard his stitches made him stop.