#doing the traditional tea too I��m on like

[toxicanonymity]

Fandango

2.1k / stepdad!Joel x fem!Reader /Stepdad

Warnings: I8+ mdni. Stepcest (reader is aggressor but he's a perv), big girthy age gap, groping, grinding, jacking off, oral m receiving, angst. Picks up after All Recipes. 🦃 Nothing has happened with the Mom, so ignore that hypothetical drabble.

When you get to the theater, Joel reaches over you to get his glasses out of the glovebox and the stretch of his shrunken sleeve makes you reach out and touch his ungodly tricep.  He ignores the touch, puts his glasses on, and puts the case back in the glovebox.  Inside, the manager changes the tickets for you.  You pick the back row, prompting a cautionary look from Joel. 

💙

Your Mom notices the casserole is off-recipe as soon as she looks at it, and she's not happy.  You glance sympathetically at Joel.  He resists the urge to bring up how she wouldn’t tell him where the recipes were, sparing you a tense car ride to Thanksgiving at your Aunt’s house.

In the car, your Mom asks, “Did you buy the movie tickets, Joel?” and you tell her you got them on Fandango.  It’s a tradition for the three of you to go to a movie on Thanksgiving, largely so you can have a set time to leave the family gathering, which will otherwise drag on forever. On the way to your aunt’s house, Your Mom wants a recap of the whole Hunger Games franchise since it’s been eight years since the last one came out in 2015. You do your best and Joel stays quiet.  She picked the movie. 

-

You and Joel haven’t talked at all since this morning when you kissed for the first time in the kitchen. He avoids you for most of the meal, but when he does look at you, he’s looking at you differently.  His eyes are pensive, concerned, but his brow is softer. It's like a puppy dog look.

An uncle asks if you’re seeing anyone, and you say “kind of.”  The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches.  When they press for more details, you tell them you might have a date this weekend and his face hardens.

“Is he handsome?” Your aunt asks. 

“I think the term is ‘hot’ now,” Your uncle corrects her.  “Is he hot? Can we see him?” He elbows Joel like he should get in on the teasing. Joel musters half a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

You pull up your tinder match’s profile and let them take a peek.  

“Oooh,” your aunt says. “He is handsome.  Jacques. . . is he French?” 

Joel takes a sip of his drink, then glares out the window and chews his cheeks.  The glass in his hand shatters under the pressure of his fist, covering his shirt in iced tea and making two of your aunts spring into action to help. 

“Joel,” your Mom says.  “No, no,” the hosting aunt responds.  "These are too delicate. I just broke one the other day.” None of it got on the table.  Your aunts take him to the kitchen to clean him up.  Meanwhile, you try to explain to your uncle what tinder is.  Joel returns to the table wearing only his shrunken undershirt and pants, looking somewhat humiliated and smoking hot.

-

On the way to the movie theater, your Mom gets an emergency call, and Joel suggests rescheduling for a later time so she can come, but she isn’t sure when she’ll be available.  You already have the tickets, and she insists the two of you drop her off at home and go ahead without her. She’ll join if she can.  Joel looks distressed at the prospect of going alone with you. 

"Kiss and make up already," your Mom says on her way out of the car, referring to the argument she walked in on earlier about his shrunken clothes. 

When you move up to the driver’s seat, he says “Don’t get any ideas.”  

“We should see the new Exorcist instead,” you say. 

“What if she tries to join?”

“She’s not going to.” He knows you’re right. “Come on,” you plead.  “It’s David Gordon Green.”

“Alright, if it’s still playin'.” 

He clenches his jaw in silence for a minute, glaring at the road ahead, then asks “What’s this about Jaques? You really have a date or just tryin’ to fuck with me?”

"What, if you can't have me no one can? That's fucked up."

He sighs, exasperated. "No shit.".

“We’ve had this conversation,” you continue. "When you got all pissy about that pic being on insta?”

“Yeah, and you deleted the pic."

“Doesn't mean you were right, I was just using it to get you to jack off. “

"God, you're filthy."

"So yeah, maybe I'll go out with him. If you won’t touch me, can't expect no one else to."

"Touched ya this mornin’, didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows and looks at you cockily. 

-

When you get to the theater, he reaches over you to get his glasses out of the glovebox and the stretch of his short sleeve makes you reach out and touch his ungodly tricep.  He ignores the touch, puts his glasses on, and puts the case back in the glovebox.  Inside, the manager changes the tickets for you.  You pick the back row, prompting a cautionary look from Joel. 

You raise the armrest and he lowers it between you again. The theater is cold and he’s freezing in his undershirt and slacks, but it’s the hottest combination, especially with his glasses.  When his nipples harden from the cold, you reach over and grab his pec. He gives you a side-eye but lets you massage him for a minute before he takes your hand and puts it on your side of the armrest.  You grab his hand while it’s there and place it on your lower thigh near your knee.  He swallows and shifts in his seat but doesn’t resist.  He stares straight ahead.  He lightly caresses your thigh over your leggings.  

When you move his hand higher up on your thigh, to the hem of your sweater dress,he gives your thigh a brief squeeze before taking his hand back.  He adjusts himself in his pants  then puts his elbows on each armrest, clasping his large hands in front of his stomach and staring straight ahead at the movie.

You leave him alone for a while, then slip your hand under his arm and into his lap, squeezing his thigh. You lean in as close to him as you can. He inhales sharply and doesn't do anything about it. You work your way higher and higher on his thigh until your wrist brushes his hardening cock, flooding you with arousal. You keep your hand on his thigh, rubbing it in a way that rubs your wrist on his package. You feel it getting firmer and it's driving you crazy.  

"Not doin' this," he whispers.

"What?" You stop moving your hand but don't take it away.

"Back of the theater like a couple'a teenagers."  That's what he says. . . but what you hear is we can do it somewhere else. 

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and he slowly, regretfully returns your hand to your side, taking his arm back right away this time. You behave for the rest of the movie.

-

On the ride home, you ask him to stop by your apartment so you can get something. You keep your hands to yourself as he drives. You're getting a new TV on black friday and want to bring your current one to your room at their house. When he parks, you ask him to come in and help you carry it.

He walks into the living room and you say "make yourself at home, I've gotta unhook everything." 

He manspreads on your couch while you bend over and make no effort to be modest as you unhook the cables.  You turn around and he's brazenly staring at your ass, holding his massive hand on his inner thigh. He watches you with puppy dog eyes as you stand up and cautiously approach him.  He slowly rubs his inner thigh and wets his lips.  He makes no effort to stop you from climbing into his lap and even moves his hand to make room for you to straddle him.  Your crotch goes straight to his, and you cradle his head with your thumbs in front of his ears.  You read his face and it’s open.  You press your lips into his. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, feeding you his tongue as his large hands come to your back.  

You roll your hips into his hardening cock. His hands slide down your back to your ass and he grunts into your mouth as he pulls you into him, using your crotch to rub his hard package. You dip your tongue into his mouth and he accepts it hungrily with light suction. Your mouths make love to each other and you softly moan into each other’s lips as you breathe through your nose and grind into him. 

Your clit throbs and your cunt begs to be filled. He wedges his hand under you, between your legs, engulfing your entire crotch.  He slides the hand back and grabs at your ass from underneath you, his middle finger pushing your leggings slightly into your crack.  Then he rubs all the way forward again from your lips to your clit with a deep breath.  His middle finger ghosts your entrance and he groans at the dampness of your leggings. 

You break away from his mouth and reach your wrists around his arm in his lap, leaving his hand between your legs, stroking you, as you  unbutton his slacks. You rise up and pull down his zipper.  He nudges your breast with his nose, then drags it across your dress to your other breast.  You  reach your hand into his pants, groping him through his boxers with your fingers pointed down and your palm hits the damp spot from his tip.  Then you slip your hand into his boxers and break the kiss to whimper into his mouth as you move the warm, smooth skin of his shaft and he ghosts your clit over your leggings. You wrap your hand around his shaft in an upright fist and sit back down on his thighs. 

Joel murmurs into your cheek, “this is dangerous, sweetheart.  Bein’ alone like this.” He reaches down between you and frees his cock from his boxers, then pulls your crotch into him and moans as the soft shape of your lips cradle his shaft through your damp leggings.  As you grind into him, you watch his face and his brow furls. 

“I know you want it,” you pant and his mouth latches onto your neck. 

His hand wraps around yours.  He pries your fingers off his cock and takes it in his own hand. Then he slides his hand into your leggings and gathers  your slick to lube himself.  He starts stroking his stiff member feverishly.  You’re miffed that he wants to come already.

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Told you, this is dangerous, sweetheart.”

“Well at least let me do it.”  You dismount him and get on the floor between his knees. He sighs and looks straight up at the ceiling as you take his cock back into your hand.  You form a broken ring round his lower shaft with your thumb and two fingers, then you bring your head to his lap and suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, followed by most of his shaft.  

“Fuck,” he exclaims, startled by your mouth. “Use your hand,” he pants. “Just your hand,” he trails off weakly, his eyes drifting downward toward you.  You try to make eye contact with him and he looks back up at the ceiling.  “HAND,” he demands.

You take it out of your mouth to ask why.

“‘Cause I’ll never stop seein’ this, damnit.” You begrudgingly use your hand. 

He sucks in a chest full of air and his thighs tremble like he’s about to come.  

“Can I swallow it or do you want it all over your clothes?” 

“Fine."

After a few more strokes, you take him into your mouth again and he shoots his salty load into the back of your throat. 

-

His arms look ready to burst through his t-shirt as he carries your tv to the car. You drive in silence, looking out the window. 

Then you wonder out loud, "What if we just fucked? Would that be so bad?" 

He looks at you as though to say come on, but you raise your eyebrows inquisitively. 

He says, "Okay, let's play it out." He clears his throat. "We fuck, then what?"

"We fuck again."

He rolls his eyes.  "Okay, but what happens?"

"We fuck again, and again, and we keep fucking" 

"Christ," he exhales, then adjusts himself. "I'm tryin' to have an adult conversation here." 

“Okay,” you say.  “How’s your marriage?”

“How do you think? You’ve known her your whole life.”  He looks at you like you did something wrong. “Don’t ask me that.” 

“How’s it an adult conversation if I can’t ask any questions?”

He groans in frustration.  

It's silent for a few minutes.  When you look over at him, he has his hand on his mouth.  He’s tearing up.  “This is fucked up,” he says weakly, then takes a deep breath. "We can't keep on like this."

-

As always, thank you so much for your support and engagement <3

Special ty to @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for getting me over the hump on my roadblock <3<3<3

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy 

-

@vickie5446

[sky-snz]

September Ballad (M, Cold)

Ok, time for a longer one (2.4k words :P). Here’s a fic with some busy autumn vibes, and cold that sneaks up on Jonah hard at work. xx

cw: mess

-

[A video recording. The Anderson Cottage attic, midday. Jonah squeezes the clamp of the black capo, and brings it down from the sixth fret to the third fret. His eyes drift toward the ground, and slowly, he begins to pluck out a melody on the guitar. In a soft voice, he starts to sing. ‘It’s her that brings me there She’ll say welcome back to earth It’s been far too long for me to bear…’]

It wasn’t quieter, just more chilly. Things in the world seemed to slowly acquire rougher edges - there was the rustling of trees and stacks of dog-eared papers that were important.

[‘Dig my body from the dirt, Gentle, so the roots wouldn’t tear…’]

The width of each day was gradually compressing. Their evening walks had been happening earlier to catch the sunset. And Lily was more often tired, and into September, Jonah tended to work late nights. It seemed he’d exchanged sunsets for a covered pot on the stove in the empty kitchen. Memes sent without additional text. A warm hand ran gently down the back of a thick sweater, a whistling kettle, and curated canisters of vitamins and such that mysteriously appeared on the cluttered counter.

“heeihhHh, HUHdt’EEISSCHHIEWWW!!!” 

Jonah’s long form bent double with a sudden violent, desperate sneeze. His hand quickly gripped onto the edge of the kitchen sink and held tightly, as the force of the expulsion shuddered through his shoulders and threw him forward. It was like a clap of thunder following far behind a streak of lightning - seeming to coming out of no where. He straightened and gave his head a small shake.

His perpetually rosy nostrils flared as he sniffed gently. His long, dark hair seemed to be behaving a bit more than it had just a few days ago, as the temperature subtly began to drop. And that was the bittersweet gateway to autumn. The end to one type of suffering, and onto various others - but with it, came a tradition of compiled solutions by humanity to maintain warmth. Life. Spirit.

He’d chalked up his usual congestion these days to the pollen, although it was trickier to tell for sure, since it had been rather cold. The temperature shift often gave his sinuses grief on its own. Nonetheless, he had work to do. One of his favourite parts of the day was making himself a tea before playing piano, which usually helped with the congestion.

“huht’JSCHH!!-unhh…” He muffled a sneeze into his shoulder, his hands occupied with a bottle of honey and a tablespoon. He sucked in a damp sniffle and sighed softly. 

This game of ‘is this a cold or allergies?’ was getting tiring. He supposed as long as he had the ability to get things done, he’d be fine. But still, “-Ah’TDSCHHhh-!!!” it might be kinder on his sinuses if he was able to tell which was the cause.

Shit. Honey dripped down the side of his mug of tea, as did his nose, dripping into his moustache and onto dry lips. He sucked in a harsh, frustrated sniffle, and reached for the roll of paper towel.

“Bless you.” Jonah heard Lily approaching down the stairs.

“*hsnff!* Thagk you.” Jonah set down the bottle of honey on the counter. As he gently wiped his face with some folded paper towel, he turned to see her enter the kitchen. 

“You doing okay?” she asked softly, lifting a hand and gently running it over his back.

“Just sdeezi’g,” he exhaled. 

“Ah, right on time.” Jonah gave a small, exhausted chuckle. Lily smiled, and reached up to brush his hair out of his face. “You had your meds?” she murmured. Her sea blue eyes stared into his earthy, moss-coloured ones. Jonah grew a bit flustered - every now and then he would forget, but this time he actually did.

“Yes, love,” he said with a gentle grin.

“Yeah? When’d you last use the nose spray?”

Jonah barked a soft, wheezy laugh, then tried to stop as she kept her strange, flirty gaze. He knew that she’d worry. Lily’s eyes ran over his impossibly handsome features. As she moved closer, his hands gently found her waist.

Jonah’s eyelashes fluttered as he gazed down at her. “This morning,” he mumbled hoarsely. 

“Take some now, it should be at least twice a day, right?”

“Once I’ve made my tea,” Jonah replied.

“Let me,” Lily said, gently touching his hand.

“Lil, I’ve got it,” he said gently, his hands still in the task of wiping the side of the mug.

“‘Kay,” Lily breathed. She ran her hand over his back once more, then went to get a glass for herself.

Jonah sniffled gently, but liquidly. The way he cleared his throat again, gruffly, had Lily’s spider sense on guard.

“What time’s the dinner tomorrow?” she asked, once she’d poured herself some water.

“Uh, *snrff!* Seved, I believe. *snrk!*” he said, turning to lean back against the counter.

Following a sip from the hot mug of tea, Jonah let out a soft, shaky exhale. Watery mucus ran down his upper lip, and he sniffled thickly. He held the breath, his chin turning to the side.

“Oh,” he huffed softly, and quickly set down the mug of tea. He lifted his other hand and pinched his sniffly nose, half-stifling a wet sneeze. “KGCHH-!! -unh, *snrff! sdrf!*”

“Bless you,” Lily breathed, and gently rubbed his back. 

“'Scuse mbe, thagk you.”

Lily wandered off to the study corner of the living room to double check her schedule. The dress she’d planned to wear was hung on the door of her closet. She hadn’t worn it in a while, and perhaps it had seen better days, but it was plain, elegant, and reliable.

[‘Eyes above the chasm where the golden hour illuminates her hair… And I’m stood there…’]

There was a heavy ceramic thud against the hardwood floor, the jingle of a teaspoon, and Jonah crying out at full volume.

“Ah-! Fuck…”

Lily straightened quickly like a meerkat, hearing Jonah’s muffled grumblings from the kitchen. From the desk chair in the living room, she tried to peek around the doorway to the dining room.

“Jonah?” she called. She stood and went to the doorway. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I’b fide,” he mumbled as she spotted him in the kitchen, crouching to pick up his empty mug and teaspoon from the puddle of tea on the floor. He had to reign in his temper, it was just a minor inconvenience…

“Oh,” Lily couldn’t help but say, her heart sinking a little. “Did y-“

“AAESSCHIEWW!! -ESSCHIEWW!!-sshieww!!” Before she could get a question out, he dissolved into another rapid, itchy spell of sneezes. “*snnnrgk!* EEEISSCHH!!! *hsddrff* God, I’b soh… *sddrffh!* I’b so sorry, *sdDDRFF!* Jesus,” he murmured hastily, struggling to sniffle back the abundance of mess oozing from his red, dripping nose. His expression was still hazy with desperation.

“Bless you, darling. Here, I got it.” Lily set the mug and teaspoon down in the sink, then tore some paper towels from the roll. She couldn’t help but continue to eye Jonah. “Are you hurt? Did you spill any on yourself?”

“*sdrff!* D-Doe, just… hh-! just- *sddrffh!* hh’just od by- hh’odbypadts-ISSCHIUE-!! HRR’ISSCHIEWWw!!” Jonah barely choked out an answer before the burning irritation overwhelmed him. He groaned softly, sounding stuffy and miserable.

“Bless you. Here, baby love, blow your nose, okay?” Lily offered him a spare handkerchief that she found in the drawer of the phone table. With bleary eyes, Jonah accepted the handkerchief, and rose up from crouching.

“Hh-haH-! Hehh!” Eyelids fluttering, he quickly leaned a hand on the counter before letting out a rapid, itchy triple. “HAAD’SCHHIEWW!!-sshieww!! ESSCHHIEWW!!!”

“Bless you,” Lily said soothingly.

“EEIY’ESSSCHHIEWWW!!!” Oh. Yikes, that sounded like it hurt. He bent double over the sink with that one, and let out a couple of chesty coughs.

“Bless you, love.”

“Thadk you…” Jonah mumbled wearily into the cloth. 

He turned and began to blow his nose. It was heavy, gurgling, sounding much needed. As Lily wiped the last of the spilt tea on the floor, she heard him pause for breath and blow again, producing congested honks. She felt sympathy as he panted for breath, sucking in several sniffles that didn’t seem to be moving much.

After a bit, he turned back around to find that Lily had finished cleaning up his mess.

“Oh,” he said softly. He stared at her, still making a few itchy rubs at his pink nose with the folded hanky. He let out a hoarse, timid chuckle. “Thagk you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Lily stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and lifted a hand to rub his back.

“I’b sorry, I’b such a klutz, *snrgk!*”

“You’re okay,” she said firmly. Lily switched to gently scratching his back instead. Jonah leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Your poor tea, though. Let’s make you another one.”

“Hh’I- hhh’oh, I still deeh- huhh, Gods sakes, *gsdrff!*” he muttered breathily, turning away again. “haaH! HAAASSCHHIEWW!!-Ohh, hih-! RR’AASSCHHIEWW!!! -AASCHIEWW!! …haht’Chieww-!! … g’nhh. *sdrff!*”

“Bless you.”

“*snrgk!* Pardod be, thagk you, *snnrk!* Hold od,” he uttered with defeat, and went to the living room. 

More sad, honking blows could be heard as he walked away. Lily poured more water into the kettle. The switch made a satisfying click as she turned it on, and again, the pot began to heat up.

-

[‘Rendered speechless by silence of it all, And with it all, I’m taken-‘]

Jonah’s noisy, drawn out snores were interrupted by some itchy coughs, ones that came so fast that they startled Lily as she’d begun to nod off. His big torso expanded as he took a wheezy, shuddering gasp, then came a sneeze so vicious that it jerked his head and shoulders forward from the incline of pillows.

“hhHAAASSCHHIEWWW!!!” It was explosive, too - Lily could see the spray in the low light, and hear the wet bursting of thick mucus as the sneeze came at full force.

“Oh, bless you love,” Lily hummed, and reached over to rub her hand soothingly over his thigh.

“HAADSSCHHIEWWw!!!” Just as he was getting his bearings, another wet, thick-sounding sneeze forced its way out of him. 

“Bless you.”

Jonah rolled over, facing away from Lily and feeling dizzily around the bedside for the box of tissues, or a hanky, anything there to catch the sudden abundance of mess he’d just sneezed all over himself. His entire head felt heavy, and his sinuses were aching. Sitting up made his head hurt. He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Here, babe,” she said softly. Soon his long fingers were squeezing around a handkerchief.

“RRAAHh’CHHIUEWW!!!” Lily winced a little. The one had just sounded so wet, and any attempts to sniffle did nothing, leaving him to sigh and hurry to lift the handkerchief over his swollen, dripping nose. “AASSCHhiu!!-EEISSCHHhh!!”

“Bless you.”

Jonah sat there, panting. The poor thing. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. Lily could hear his weary, heavy breathing as he wiped his face. She lifted the backs of her finger to feel his forehead.

“-hhhh… hHehhhh… HAAAESSCHHHhh!!!”

“Bless you. Ohh, dear. Yup, that’s a fever.”

“HRR’AASSCHHIOOO!!! ....ngh..” 

“Bless you. Here. Breathe in for me.”

Jonah took in a tight, shaky breath. His sore, sensitive sinuses were burning. He needed to blow his nose badly, or his head was going to burst. The attempt at it made an awful noise - the congestion that sat heavily in his sinuses was restricting, and there was so much mucus, an ungodly amount. The handkerchief was damp by the time he finished blowing. 

“ahh’CHIEWW!!hhh….” God, he shouldn’t have blown that hard. The sneeze that it triggered was sudden and scraped across his throat. 

“Bless you, poor thing,” Lily murmured.

“*sngk!* D-Deed- hUHt’CHIEWWw!!!” He winced and rubbed at his nose with the hanky. “g’hh… h-heiHhh?? HAAEESSSCHHiuhh!!-’ISSCHH!!!-CHH!!-TCHHhh!!!”

Oh no. They were coming rapidly again. And they still sounded wet, if not wetter, soaking the humble handkerchief in his hands. Lily reached toward the bedside table and opened the drawer. She found a good, thick handkerchief and touched it to Jonah’s hand. He took it eagerly and shakily lowered the soaked cloth in his hands. Lily caught a glimpse of his red, chapped nostrils, which flared wide again before pitching forward into the fresh cloth.

“YY’AASSCHHIEWW!!!”

“Bless you, sweetie.”

“*snrgk* Thagk you,” he barely croaked. He blew his nose again, cautiously, then emerged with a sniff.

Lily ran her fingers through his loose, frizzy curls. “Want ice?” she breathed.

Jonah nodded. Lily moved towards the other bedside table and reached for the thermos. She opened it and shook some ice into an empty cold pack she’d left there just in case.

“hdt!‘CHIUEWW!!! *snrk! snnnrk~*”

“Bless you.”

“rr’SSCHHIEWWw!! -nnh, *sddrff!*”

“Bless-“

“EEEISSCHHIEWWww!!! *snNrgk!* ‘b so sorry, 'scuse be.” Jonah kept sniffling liquidly. His poor nose just kept running, gushing mess with each itchy sneeze.

Lily gave his thigh a small rub. “Shhhh, you’re okay.” 

He gave another thick, flooding blow into the hanky, and lowered it, panting softly. His eyes were still sunken and hazy with sleep. He looked ready to return to his slumber - then Lily turned to him with the ice pack.

“Here, hun.” Jonah snuffled softly and peeked over at her. “Lie down?”

He did just that, exhaling heavily as his back flattened onto on the mattress. Lily placed the small ice pack on his forehead, and watched his flushed features loosen.

“That good?”

Still panting slightly, he nodded. It felt so good that he could’ve fallen asleep then and there, but-

“I’ll grab you some Tylenol, okay?” Lily leaned down to kiss his warm temple. His bleary eyes followed her as she got out of bed. She came back to the bed and sat by him. “Here. Can you sit up?”

[‘I’m taken, taken, taken…’]

“It’s just a moment, and you can go back to sleep.”

A soft groan of effort tickled Jonah’s scratchy throat, as he pushed his aching body into an upright position. There was some ease as Lily’s hand touched his shoulder. Her thumb grazed over the fabric of his shirt as he downed the two pills in a wrenching gulp. 

Not saying much else, her hand moved to brush back his hair. She left a kiss on his clammy forehead, and murmured for him to lay back down.

[‘And it’s her It’s her that brings me there.’ Jonah looks up from the ground towards the camera. His lips muster a gentle grin, and he reaches over to stop the recording.]

[tonkatsubowl]

false love ii.

jing yuan x fem!reader

nsfw themes (cursing and stuff i think. mentions of domestic abuse and self harm. mentions of suicide. no, jing yuan aint hurting u bb girl).read at your own risk. english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ arranged marriage. the reader and jing yuan have an arranged marriage and she is stuck, disliking every moment of it, until...

TERM DIRECTORY ◖y/n: your name ◖e/c: eye color ◖h/c: hair color ◖l/n: last name

♡ requested tags: @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @kimura-uzuri @ieathairs (hopefully i didn't forget anyone)

part one. / part three. / part four. / part five. / part six. / part seven.

"yanqing."

"yes, general."

it was just the two of them. the general and his admirable lieutenant, speaking privately to one another upon the balcony that revealed the splendid display of xianzhou luofu. you were asleep peacefully in the other room, but because of your fears of being...hurt in the middle of the night, you were more comfortable sleeping in a private room rather in same chambers as the general's.

"do you feel safer sleeping with me? or do you wish to be given your own room, y/n?"

"...m-my own room. preferably... if possible. thank you...f-for asking."

a question like that was brought to you because jing yuan was observant. extremely observant. your flinching, your shyness, your fears of being hurt...it was all too easy of a solution. normally, he wouldn't mind sharing the same bed as you, considering it was...well, a general tradition for a husband and wife to sleep on the same bed, no? but this was different. entirely so.

"have you look into the l/n family?" jing yuan had asked his lieutenant, his voice briefly interrupted by the sound of his own sipping. the same jasmine tea that he served you before.

"yes, sir. lady y/n is the eldest daughter in her family. her bloodline is known to have successful members of the military, but only for those who are...well..."

jing yuan looked over, his eyes casting towards his lieutenant.

"...male. successful members tend to be the eldest sons of her bloodline. y/n happened to be the first eldest daughter in her entire family. each eldest son was known to be successful. but there is no history in regards to her being, well...successful in any way. according my research, there is no history of her attending education services or anything the like. it is like she was hidden up until this very moment."

"i see." jing yuan fell silent. "i trust that you have seen it too. the obvious flinching. the shyness. the fearness of getting hurt. i would only presume her family is harsh on her due to the fact she is not a man."

yanqing pursed his lips, as though annoyed with the situation. "...yes, sir. domestic abuse. it is obvious so. the faint bruises on her arms⸻hidden by her sleeves⸻say it all. what do you suggest we do, general?"

jing yuan shook his head. "nothing. we are married now, and she is my wife. she is no longer in that situation, neither will i allow harm come towards her way. however, i will...command you to do this for me."

"...? yes, general?"

"at one point in our marriage," jing yuan looks to yanqing, who remained kneeled by his side, "we would have to oblige to her family visiting in the sanctum here due to in-law traditions. once that happens, do not let them near her. be by her side."

"...yes, sir."

your eyes flutter open to the soft light of the sun beaming through the curtains. for once, you woke up peacefully rather than the palm of your father who scolded you for oversleeping. for the first time, you felt well rested. you were greeted by the soft birds that sung you awake, and the light of the radiant sky.

you weren't sure how long you were asleep for, but you...were definitely peacefully asleep. you were unused to it, but your body felt the need to rush itself to get ready...and you did so.

anxiety filled you immediately⸻what if you had to be somewhere with your husband? will the general hit you? scold you for it?

you scramble up from your bed and hurried to get dressed. you put on your clothes, and ready your hair...but you weren't quite fast enough. the knock on your door caught you by surprise, your heart racing. your mind began to overthink, fearing itself that you would get in trouble for not getting ready soon enough.

"⸻lady y/n?"

you froze, hearing another woman's voice behind the door.

"are you awake? i believe i heard your footsteps and⸻"

entered the woman, who was adorned in a house-servant attire. you began to sweat, expecting this woman to scold you or something...but you were a mess. you were already getting ready, but your hair wasn't done. ah, gosh. what will you do now?

"i...i'm sorry. i'll get ready immediately. i'm so⸻"

"huh?" the woman tilted her head, looking at you puzzled. "ah, lady y/n. you didn't have to rush to get ready. i'm here to help you get ready for the day. general jing yuan has requested me to assist you this morning, but if you do not need my help..."

"...a-ah," your face turned red out of embarrassment. you weren't used to this. you had a house servant to help you now? the house servants you lived with didn't even care about you. they also, alongside with your biological family, saw you as a useless piece of...

"...n-no, it's... it's okay," you shook your head, the ornaments in your hair that you failed to put on began to fall a bit. "i-i can get ready myself."

the house servant blinked, before her expression softened.

right. the general had informed her about something...something about you. but you didn't know about it.

there was a soft smile on the servant's countenance as she stepped closer, causing you to flinch. but she was patient with you. she had to be...especially when she was assigned to be your assistant until her last breath, or your last breath.

"milady, allow me to help you, please." she whispered in a soothing tone. you open your eyes, your shoulders easing up from her voice...you felt okay, but you were still cautious.

nodding slowly, you sat down in front of your mirror, allowing the house servant to pamper you up. you flinched every time her hands went near your face, but slowly, you were getting used to it. all it took for you was...time.

you needed time to heal, and everyone who now entered your life would be patient with you. jing yuan, especially.

it didn't take long until you were properly dressed and looked less of a mess, thanks to your house servant. you looked at yourself in the mirror, and surely enough, you looked absolutely stunning. did you believe it? no. your self esteem was absolutely terrible, and you hated yourself. you hated everything about yourself.

"you look so⸻"

ugly.

"⸻beautiful, milady."

liar...liar.

you frowned, gazing upon yourself at the mirror. you didn't believe it. you grew up hearing insults about your appearance...that you weren't enough. that you could look like a rodent so easily. a measly little mongrel. so these compliments that you were hearing...you were not used to, and it would take an eternity for you to accept these compliments.

you said nothing, but looked down to avoid your own gaze. you can't stand seeing yourself in the mirror. you just refuse to see that ugliness before you.

your house servant had noticed your behavior, and decided to change the topic. putting away your other clothes and ornaments, she looked towards you, "ah, yes. your husband has invited you for breakfast this morning. you may attend if you'd like, milady."

you blink. breakfast...with jing yuan? ah, right. you are probably obligated to attend breakfast, lunch and dinner with him now. you were mainly used to eating by yourself, but... despite having the option of eating alone, you decided to go along with it.

you nodded slowly, rising up from your seat, unused to the fancy dress you were wearing. "...okay."

"good morning, y/n." jing yuan greeted you with a smile as he lifted his own cup of tea, the scent of jasmine and eucalyptus greeting your nostrils. yanqing was in the background performing a bow towards you, but he wasn't attending breakfast.

"good morning," you whispered softly, your tone audible enough for the two to hear. you looked around for a seat, realizing that your seat was across the general's. it seems that jing yuan was allowing you some space...? or was it because he didn't want to sit next to you? was it because you were filthy?

no, no. stop. just eat. stop thinking about the negative things and just eat.

you were quiet as you sat across from jing yuan, looking down at the table... it was filled with a bunch of different foods. something you've seen before with the luxury of your wealthy family, but you always ate this alone.

"how did you sleep last night?"

you slept well, but you weren't feeling hungry at all. you were so used to skipping breakfast and eating so little, you just...didn't want to eat. yanqing and jing yuan exchanged looks, but you answered a moment after.

"i slept well," you said truthfully, "the bed is nice. it's more quiet here."

"i'm glad!" jing yuan exclaimed, beaming brightly as he took a sip of tea, "i want to make it known to you that i want you to live comfortably here and freely. my home is now your home, y/n."

your gaze slowly rises up, looking to jing yuan. it...it was a scary thought. the fact you were going to live here for the rest of your life, living in fear of not knowing who this man is, who everyone is... you felt trapped. even at the comfort of his own words, you just...didn't believe it. you believed in too many false promises in the past, and this is just one of them, you thought.

"...i see."

you didn't even touch your food yet. you just weren't hungry. yanqing took note of that. jing yuan was very attentive⸻and he was reading every motion of your body, your expression...everything.

god. what happened? who did this to you? how did you become like this? you didn't deserve this.

jing yuan embraced the silent atmosphere for one moment before clearing his throat. "...a-ahem. well, y/n. i decided to take today off to show you around this area. have you been to aurum alley? i assume you haven't been around these parts since your family lives rather far, yes?"

you nodded. it was true. you weren't really from here. it didn't help that you were more of an indoor person, too.

"i haven't been to aurum alley, no." you say, shaking your head.

"i see. well, i'll be glad to take you there, if you wish."

....honestly, the thought of going to new places⸻as scary as it sounded for you⸻was a bit exciting. you were free, now. you could go wherever you want, right? well...maybe that's what jing yuan was promising, but he was giving you the opportunity to show you around. so, you'll take this chance to see the world.

you nodded. "...a-alright." you murmur, earning another smile from the general.

you still didn't touch your food, and it was getting cold. but that's alright. progress is progress⸻and wants you to feel comfortable more than anything.

aurum alley.

for the weekend, it was always so busy. everyone was on their off day, spending time with each other and their families, and also just getting drunk too with their friends. truth to be told, you heard about this area before, but because you were so sheltered and you remained inside, you haven't really been here before.

jing yuan was escorting you, and there were many people greeting the both of you. to your discomfort of this, you were hiding behind him, clutching onto his arm...which he didn't mind at all. he was happy that you at least felt safe enough hiding behind him. jing yuan was basically protecting you, preventing these random civilians from getting close to you. the drunkards too, even. you were already going through alot mentally, so the last thing you needed was a drunk man just talking to you randomly.

"i think you would enjoy the food here." jing yuan would say as he approached a stand which was selling pastries. he decided to pick one out randomly, purchasing it, and handing it to you. you looked towards the pastry that he held out for you before you took it, bringing it up to your nose. it smelled very sweet...mixed with some chocolate bits and vanilla. slowly, you opened your mouth, taking a very tiny bite out of the pastry before realizing that it was...delicious.

your eyes lid up, your cheeks brightening with a blossoming shade of rose as you took another bite. god, jing yuan admired this sight. seeing your eyes light up from the deliciousness of a pastry he bought for you, your smile... he was happy he took you out here.

that was when you began to feel more comfortable around jing yuan a bit. he took you to several stands, showing you all the minigames, all the rewards that he basically won bought for you, and all the different types of food that were being sold. it was obvious that you were enjoying this moment...enjoying this bit of freedom you were experiencing with him. for the first time, you felt so free and so happy. all of your worries were gone⸻it was as though you could finally lean onto someone...

...or can you?

as jing yuan took you to a nearby stand, he realized that there was too many people crowding around that...and he knew you would be uncomfortable being surrounded by that many people. sitting you down at a bench, he knelt by your side, taking your hand gently. "y/n," he murmured, "there's something i want to get for you over there, but you're gonna have to wait here for a moment. is that okay?"

at first...you were a bit hesitant. you were growing a bit of separation anxiety from the man, considering jing yuan was the only person you knew at the moment. but...you decided to trust him.

what a mistake.

you nodded, pursing your lips. "a-alright. i can wait right here." you say.

jing yuan gives you a soft smile as he gets up, still holding onto your hands. "...thank you. i will be right back."

you watched as he disappeared to the crowd that was gathered around the stand, and to your discomfort, you waited...by yourself.

jing yuan wasn't that far, and you could predict that he'd probably be prioritized as a customer considering everyone knew who he was...

...but it felt like forever.

you were waiting too long⸻well, it felt like you were waiting for hours, when it only had been five minutes. but it was better than being around the crowd, no?

as your eyes cast upwards towards the sky, you admired the starry night. how the stars greeted you with their sparkling glory, how you wondered if there was another world out there...if these stars were actually planets.

...right. the night sky...it was so beautiful.

but your admiration for the stars went to an end when a hand went over your mouth. the scent of chloroform was inhaled through your nostrils, and you were immediately fallen into a sedation period of unconsciousness.

the last thing you heard was,

"think we'll finally make some money once we sell her off. her father paid us well."

[ficdumper]

Hey there! So I heard that you doing requests so I decided to ask for one! It would be male reader x Rosie, where the reader is a psychotic murderer who's just in the hotel for the free room and is usually a nuisance, but when Rosie comes to visit one day he goes all silent and shy and she finds him super adorable so she keeps coming back. It can be head cannons and it would be romantic fluff.

Rosie x m!reader

Type: one-shot, headcanons

Relationship: romantic

Tags: fluff

Warnings: mentions blood and murder

You, just like all the other sinners in the Pride ring, were here for a reason. Or, reasons. For some it was an ice cream stolen when they were 5, for others - alcohol and robbery.

For you, though?

Murder.

Lots of it.

You've always been quie a creative person when it came to death, your own didn't change it. It just meant you could get more creative and stop hiding it.

Your first years in hell (or has it been centuries) were pretty much the same: kill, cause chaos, annoy some overlords, kill and so on. It was becoming a little too repetitive. So, when you heard about Hazbin hotel, you decided to check it out. It seemed quite an easy deal: you show some of your less bloody qualities and you get to stay there for free. Sounds like a dream, right?

Well, not completely. Charlie's sweeter than sugar meetings and not being allowed to torture whoever you liked there didn't seem very nice. But a big plus, besides free housing, was that you managed to befriend Alastor, or at least become a close acquaintance.

Was it a big surprise? To other residents, probably. To you, however? No way. Both of you could be described as psycophats, curses, menaces and every other "compliment". But your bloody styles still had some differences. While Alastor was more formal and quite careful, even a little elegant in his own twisted way, you were more unpredictable and chaotic.

It wasn't just with murder. You quickly git a reputation for pulling some unexpected pranks. Let's just say, you're a master at giving others heart attacks.

One day Alastor thought it would be interesting to show his best friend Rosie the hotel. And that's what resulted in our current situation: you were so bewitched from the moment you saw the elegant cannibal that you walked into a wall so hard you got a nose bleed (and who can blame you?)

When Rosie sees it, she asks if you're alright and wipes the blood off your face. You can't do anything besides letting her and admiring her up close. Her dark eyes, her neat elegant hair, her perfect smile...

Your thoughts may be beautiful, but from the side you looked like an entranced zombie staring at Rosie with a slightly opened mouth. 'Now, we don't want you to choke on a fly' she says before gently closing your mouth with her hand, while a gentle smile adorned her face.

That made you shut down completely. Usually you would make a comeback or bite off the hand, but now you were nothing like that. Who knew that someone could bring down a murderous psychopath to his knees with just a smile and a few words?

Even when you were covered in blood and unable to say anything, she couldn't help but think 'Cutie~'

She wouldn't mind getting to know you closer, what a bloody pleasure ❤️

She quickly gets interested in you, but it takes more time for her to actually develop romantic feelings

You quickly intrigue her, especially how someone as bloody and murderous like you can be so adorable and romantic

You two give off Morticia and Gomez vibes, you can fight me on this

She sometimes teases you for blushing and/or stuttering around her. She can't help but find you adorable

You two would develop a tradition of meeting up in the Cannibal Town for some tea and snacks

Since both of you can get quite bloody, she would invite you to her Emporium to try out some body parts. Definitely learns your favourites

Someone: why are you two together?

Rosie: he makes me laugh

Reader, covered in blood: •⩊•🔪

A/N: The photos aren't mine, found them on Pinterest

Thanks for your request, I had fun with it😊✨

[thebeldroramscal]

Part 3 - Dinner for 2

Part 2 - ...with bells on

Rating: Explicit/NSFW 18+ (no minors, I know I’m not the boss of you but c’mon, do me the favour of not putting us both on a list). 

Summary: All that you know about tonight is that you’re having dinner.  Getting to know each other a little bit better is probably a good idea but PLEASE universe, please, you beg, don’t let him be a one trick pony. And can we get some cock up in here? Can I get an AMEN??

Warnings/Goings on:  PLEASE READ THESE CAREFULLY! Arguably a smidgeon of food play, human furniture (predicament), run of the mill domination/service submission. Talks of Heavy impact play (M on F), breast admiration (free the fucking nip.  Our tits RULE!), knife play.

Consent carried over from Part 1 however tweaks made during the course of this scene.  No mention of age gap, no mention of reader’s body other than she has female genitals and tits.  And Joel can lift her up, whatever that means, the guy could probably lift a baby elephant. There are photos of female bodies spattered throughout, this is just to set the scene, no intent to imply figure or form. All bods are hot.

Authors note: This chapter introduces some more “traditional” BDSM practices.  I’d really REALLY like to start highlighting the importance of aftercare – FOR ALL PARTIES CONCERNED.  Yes, SubDrop is a powerful thing however I think that DomDrop gets very overlooked.  Lets look after our Doms’ wellbeing too!

I’m very open to suggestions but I’m a delicate flower so I’m not so open to criticism.  This isn’t everyone’s cup of tea so if you don't like it, please scroll on, quietly.

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

You’d managed to rustle up a few more things to furnish your burgeoning little dungeon. It's coming together...as nicely as a shitty unfinished subfloor basement can.  You're sitting on a milk crate in front of a huge mirror looking at your reflection.

Your mind wanders back to one of the men you were seeing way back when.  You had a daily ritual where you would wait by the door when you heard his car pull up the drive way.  Every day you’d be on your knees waiting for him to walk through the door.  He’d enter the house, throw his keys in to the bowl on the credenza without saying a word to you.  He would remove his jacket, unzip his pants and wait for you to suck his cock.  He came easily from head.  Your technique attributed to this but so did the circumstance in which he was being blown.  Every day, after you'd swallowed his daily load, literally and figuratively, you got off your knees and he’d pull you close by whatever you were wearing He'd say something, something different every day that made you feel like a queen.  It was a small part of your day but an enormous part of your life.  Not a lot of people understood that. It’s not “abuse” if you want to do it.  You haven’t been “groomed or gaslit” in to thinking you had to do it.  You wanted to do it.  It made you feel powerful, it made you feel in control, like a sexual goddess, like an important part in his day, the one guaranteed good thing to come home to.  He knew you were waiting there for him because he asked you to be there waiting for him.  He asked you to be there waiting for him because he knew you wanted to be asked. Jesus christ, a credenza? You laugh through your nose.  You’d be lucky to get 2 matching chairs these days.  A fucking credenza.

“enjoyin’ the view?” Joel's voice carves a hole through the room, and your thoughts, like a bullet.  

You whip your head around in his direction and catch a satisfied smirk.

How embarrassing.

You don't answer him.  The fact is, you were enjoying the view.  Sex, good sex, that sex, brings back your...it brings back your "you".  The little skip in your step, knowing that under your pencil skirt in your big city job that your arse was hard, bloody, covered in bandages and yet you still work your white collar job doing white collared things and catching yourself every time you plonk your arse down on your white collar chair to do your white collar computer shit.  You used to think people would notice but they didn't. They were all self important. And frankly, looking back, so were you.

“Thanks for dressin’ up for the occasion” he says, dripping in sarcasm. 

“Fuck.  I got distracted”

“By your own face..” he mocks walking towards you, putting his bags down on the ground, “It’s ok” he assures you, grabbing you softly by the chin to raise your face to meet his. He strokes your chin and looks at your face for longer than usual. His expression doesn't change. He spins you around so that you’re both facing the mirror, him standing behind you, hands on your shoulders “I get it, I would have to.”  Ah, you didn’t know what to say to that.  A compliment, that’s…? He snakes  his left hand around your waist, holding you tight with the kind of grip that makes you feel like you could relax every muscle in your body and you would still be upright.  Impressive, very hot, also potentially very dangerous.

He gently pulls the hair tie holding your ponytail in place free from your head, stroking your hair, “you smell so fuckin’ good” you hear him say under his breath as he bunches your hair up and pushes it to his face.  You’d laugh if it wasn’t such an intimate moment.  But this feels very un-Joel.  This was a huge show of vulnerability and when you see it for the moment It is, it’s fucking beautiful.  You want to let him experience this long as he needs, it’s obvious this goes way deeper than the scent of your 2 in 1 shampoo. There’s a tranquility in his demeanor and if that’s something you can provide him you’re going to do it.  You’re watching one layer of the onion fall and it is the most intimate, unmasked Joel you’ve met.

“We didn’t cover knives.”

“What do you mean?" You say, barely audible, as if to not wake Joel.

"at the bar? in the toilet? are you happy to bring a knife to the party?"

"I’m not very experienced with them. Start off slow?” you're barely whispering now. 

“Can I touch you with a blade?” his lips graze your ear while he whispers. His mouth moves lower to the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth on your skin, his bite slowly increasing in intensity. He's dipping his toe in the water. Feeling out your pain limits, honing in on your pleasure spots. You know he's enjoying it because his rock hard cock is firmly planted against your arse. He's cataloguing everything your body is telling him.

“What kind of blade? 

“My blade, the Buck”

He takes a deep breath and drops your hair and spins you around so you’re facing each other again.

“The one that’s with me. Always.”

He opens the knife strapped to his belt. “This is my baby.  She has been there for me since the beginning”

It’s sharp knife, it sounds like it could tell 1000 stories. Its presence in a situation that doesn’t call for a knife is intriguing.

Joel places a finger under your chin and lifts your head so you’re making eye contact.  He raises an eyebrow as if to ask again.

“Yes, Yep, You can touch me with that knife.  Don’t cut me…not yet”

“…not yet” interesting, he thinks to himself. He's growing increasingly intrigued by your past. By you. This is a whisper of a feeling that he barely remembers.

He looks at you. Thinking.

“How attached to those clothes are you?”

You laugh at the dramatic change in topic.  “ahhhh” you say as you pull at the shitty pair of shorts and white tank you usually wear when you clean “I’d say about a 2/10…I was going to get changed bu..”

“Ok.  They’re goin’” he says while he gently, playfully (and irresponsibly) taps you on the tip of your nose with his blade.

You feel yourself being spun around once more so that you’re both facing the mirror again.  “I fuckin’ love this mirror.  I fuckin' LOVE this mirror”.  He is looking at you like a starving man with a perfectly cooked, rare rib eye drowning in a red wine and rosemary jus , garlic mash and roasted almond asparagus in front of him.  Not that you remember what that even tastes like any more.

You feel the blunt side of the knife graze its way up your arm and then the tip gently kiss your decolletage until it stops between your breasts.  He leaves the knife resting there to make sure you’re okay with it so far. You are. You really are. His breath gently skims the nape of your neck and you're both looking at each other's reflection in the mirror intensely.  He continues. It makes a trail down your front.  “still as a statue…” he whispers in to your ear.  Cupping one side of your head in one hand using the other to hold the knife he makes a trail over your shitty tank from your belly button to the neckline, you feel safe but are acutely aware that a huge fright or even a sneeze could kill you right now.  The knife flicks around and skewers the neckline of your tank.  It slices through the material with no effort.  Fuck, it’s sharp.  He uses his thigh to close the knife in one second, dumps it in his pocket and reaches both hands around to your front.  He grabs each side of your flayed tank and rips it open in one motion.

Your body rocks at the force and you instinctively reach for it to cover your naked torso but Joel catches your wrists.

“No. Hands by your sides.”

“Ok” you manage to whisper, your chest is heaving. Your pulse beats louder in your and head harder in your cunt.

“You can’t cover this” he whispers.  Not necessarily to you but maybe to the situation.  “No, it’s too beautiful”  You feel his hands glide up your torso as they search for your breasts.  His breathing becomes deeper and more controlled, a mixture of silence and a low resonant rumble like distant thunder.  He grabs a breast in each hand and kneads into the flesh alternating between an agonizingly soft touch and a touch so hard you contemplate using your safe word.  You can see in the mirror that his eyes are closed. Is he doing this for you or for himself?  “You have no idea how long it has been since I’ve seen a nice pair of tits”. Was that was supposed to be said out loud or a quiet thought?  Whatever it was it meant to be, it whips you in the core of your brain's pleasure center, depleting the reserve of every sex hormone you have at once. A tiny moan escapes as your lips part and you relinquish any control you had left and fall back in to his body. 

He gently massages your breasts, losing himself in their softness. His heavy breath peppered with an a occasional “my god” just barely slipping through his lips.  Those lips.  He rolls his thumb over your nipple and his touch becomes more gentle.  He is lightly swaying and your entire weight is melded with his.  You're swaying in unison.  He starts to slowly and gently squeeze your nipple, his face nestled in the nape of your neck, biting and grazing his teeth against your flesh.  It's as if every sensation either of you are feeling is being felt by both of you.

His breath quickens and his touch becomes harder, he is kneading roughly, running his hands up and down your torso, rolling over your breasts as if they're not even there. It hurts, but it hurts in the right way. Your breathing becomes more forceful and that does not go unnoticed. He finds your nipples with his finger tips and pinches them hard without letting go. You cry out and throw one arm behind you, finding his arse so you can pull him closer, you head throws itself back hard against him. You're unable to arch your back, which you so desperately want to do. You're holding each other far too tight. He pulls your nipples until your skin runs out of stretch and your tits fall back in to place. Again, you cry out but it's the right kind of cry. Your cunt is on fire.

"Fuck I can’t wait to get that nipple in my mouth...between my teeth". He is pinching them again, and is showing no mercy.

You breathe in through your teeth, the sensation riding right on the line of pleasure and pain is very close to unbalancing. Becoming too much.  He quickly lets go of your breast but keeps his firm grip around your waist in place. You press your legs together in an attempt to quash the pulsation that is on the verge of being painful.

"Not tonight though".

He has his knife back in his hand. The tip traces a line down the middle of your naked torso until it finds itself resting in the the waistband of your shitty shorts. 

"Not tonight"

"Tonight we eat."

He pushes the blade forward, spinning it so that the sharp end is pushing against the waistband of your shorts. It cuts through the entire front of your shorts from gusset to waistband in one movement.  He repeats this motion at the back of your shorts and he reaches down, grabs the crotch of your shorts and rips them violently from your body.

You stand there. Naked. Once he is satisfied with what he has standing in front of him he goes to grab his bag.

"You can eat your food out of a bowl like a dog, and I do have a collar, or you can let me feed you"

You were wondering where dinner was going to fit in to this.

"should I grab some clo-"

"no"

"o...ok. Feed me? No dog bowl. Please."

He kicks a milk crate over to where you're standing. It'll be a satisfactory seat. For him.

"okay"

You're unsure of what is happening but Joel is laying a plush blanket on the floor in front of his seat. You stay in your place and watch him set up whatever it is he is setting up.

"come here" Joel asks. "I'm going to need a table"

You see he has a couple of containers of rice and something and...a bottle of wine! Exciting. He even brought some wine glasses. And a straw. Huh. Okay.

You look around the room for something suitable but there's nothing in there. You look at him and he says "No. You come here. Hands and knees. You are my table" He motions with his head exactly where he wants you to be.

You feel that feeling in your stomach and a small, devious, knowing smile creeps its way on to your face. You start to bite the inside of your mouth. Joel notices everything.

You walk of over to you position and drop to your hands and knees without a thought. You feel two bowls and a glass placed on your back. He sets a wine glass in front of you and pours it for you. He plonks the straw in it unceremoniously and tells you that you may drink whenever you like and how much you like. You hear him fill his wine glass and become instantly aware that your back is not flat. The glass doesn't feel very secure.

"um, i think that glass might be better on the other side? It doesn't feel stable"

"Drinks on the right. I know my manners. If it's unsteady, that's on you. Shut up. I'm hungry."

He picks up his utensil and presumably takes a mouthful. At the same time you see a spoon lowered to your face, he feeds you a mouthful.

"oh my god, that's GOOD" you say, twisting your neck to look at him without even thinking.

You feel the glass topple over and wine spill over your legs and arse immediately. "FUCK" you think to yourself, "this is it, this is "IT." Excitement flashes through your body like a boiling hot laser scanner.

He gets up from his seat without saying a word. He's behind you, picking up his wine glass and you're bracing yourself for a hard spank. Instead you feel the heat of his mouth sucking your thigh, your arse, it feels incredible and you're turned on more. More.

"I don't like waste" he says as he walks to where your face is. His footsteps are so loud when you're this close to the ground. His boots are not to be fucked with. He crouches down to your level and you look at his face. You can feel the bowls on your back moving as your skin twists and it's slowly sinking in.

"I'm going to have my dinner on this beautiful piece of furniture" he runs his hands back forth along your side as if you were...well, a beautiful piece of furniture. He dips down and gives your nipple a TIGHT pinch just because he can. "I said, I don't like waste. I've brought something I worked hard on during the outbreak. A cane. If spillage happens, you'll earn yourself one set of three strikes of my cane. Do you understand?"

"yes"

"repeat it"

"If something spills during dinner, I'll be caned three times each time"

"good" he nods and returns to his seat.

He refills his glass and returns it to it's place. You become hyperaware of exactly how precariously placed it is. Clever jerk.

Another spoonful appears next to your face, you open your mouth and go to take the food in your mouth but Joel jerks the spoon back. You laugh as you instinctively jut you head forward to catch the food. The wine glass tips over.

"FUCK"

"mmmhmm." he mumbles nonchalantly. He knew it was coming.

You hear him get up once again and he calmly walks over to his bag. You hear him rustle around in it and picks up his cane.  He puts the tip under your chin, slowly tilting your head upwards so you are looking him in the eyes. "Three strikes" he says as he taps the side of your cheek. You nod gently . Running the top of his cane along your naked body as he walks towards his seat, he wakes up your skin. He pauses behind you "Here. The strikes go here" he says as he taps the cane over the meaty part of your arse and thighs, "and they're not going to be little love taps, they will be strikes, and they will hurt". Your cunt aches with those words.

He rakes his sharp nails down your leg as he reaches down to pick up his glass. You arch your back, in enjoyment and in pain. Bang. A bowl drops to the floor.

"look at that." Joel says flatly. "a two-fer" I hope you're counting.

You take a breath. "Yes. Nine".

Dinner is reset and you hold your position perfectly still.

You see Joel's hand, with a heaped pile of food on it in front of you.

"seeings utensils are too difficult for you" he jabs, "here". His hand moves closer to your mouth and you open it, far too flooded with thoughts to do anything but follow what makes sense. Joel shoves the food in your mouth and uses your face to wipe his hands clean. Ooooph, if your old scene friends could see you now...

He is diligent in reading your tone, body language and disposition. This wasn't his first rodeo and he would never overstep what he thought responsible play for him would be and you. He is a man of born again ethical practice and he sticks to his mantra.

Dinner was proceeding well, you'd caught yourself 9 strikes, were drinking (pretty drinkable) wine through a straw and was having food shoved in to your mouth while you served as a table. Just another Tuesday night, right?

You'd settled yourself in to a meditative state, "subspace" if you will.

You feel Joel's hand lightly slide along the small of your back toward his glass but take a turn, down the skin on your arse, which he grabs roughly, and his fingers make their way between your legs. You feel a finger slide inside you with ease. "fuuuuuuck" you hear him whisper to himself. Yes. you were soaked and burning hot. This only served to make his erection hurt.

Dinner was over.

...Chapter 4 - Dessert, on it's way soon. Stay tuned my freaky friends.

[lisutarid-a]

[Gakuen K] Yatogami Kuroh Route Translation

EXTRA Family plans

LIST OF CHAPTERS

[Translation under the cut]

Saya: (…Yesterday was a tough day. My father was terrified)

Saya: (But suddenly an airship flew over the house--)

Saya: (Everyone would be scared if their own daughter fell out of the sky…Kuro-kun was with me too)

Saya: (But I'm really happy that both mom and dad seemed to like Kuro-kun)

Saya: (As expected, I can't get married yet…I really hope I can marry Kuro-kun someday)

Saya: (Ah, there he is)

Saya: Hello again, Kuro-kun.

Kuroh: Nah. Want something to drink?

Saya: Uhm. I think I'll have a cup of tea…Huh, what magazine are you reading?

Kuroh: It's a family planning magazine.

Saya: …Family planning?

Kuroh: I'm looking forward to a future with you, and I'm thinking hard about it.

Kuroh: I have asked Ichigen-sama, he said it's good to have a girl first and then a boy.

Saya: A girl and a boy…Could it be…

Kuroh: Yeah, it's about kids.

Saya: We're not even married yet, aren't you being hasty…?

Kuroh: No, it wouldn't hurt to think about it. Building a house, I have to think about the number of rooms and so on.

Saya: (Eh….already that far?!)

Kuroh: "First a girl, then a boy". The first child is a girl, the second is said to be a boy.

Kuroh: I was said not to get caught up in the tradition, if a child is born, it doesn't matter which one.

Saya: I-I see.

Saya: (I wonder what kind of face the principal had when he was listening to Kuro-kun's story…)

Saya: Which one would Kuro-kun prefer?

Kuroh: Right…I'd probably prefer a boy.

Saya: Why?

Kuroh: Even when I'm not around, I have to make sure his mother is well protected.

Kuroh: It would be a good idea to have him learn martial arts from a young age and train him both mentally and physically.

Saya: Please refrain from Spartan training…

Saya: …If you were to get married, when would it be?

Kuroh: I suppose when I become a working adult, become independent, and have a steady income…I guess it will be 7 years from now.

Saya: Seven years from now…I wonder what everyone will be doing about that time.

Saya: Shiro-kun, Neko-chan. Classmates, teachers, senpais. I wonder what kind of life each of them will be living.

Kuroh: Perhaps, even after seven years, the free-spiritedness of Shiro and Neko will remain the same.

Saya: Fufu, I'm think that after 7 years they both will surely grown up, right?

Kuroh: I don't see those two settling down so easily.

Saya: But 7 years is a pretty long time…

Saya: (7 years from now…That's very, very far away, somehow I'm worried about it…)

Kuroh: What's wrong?

Saya: Ah, Un-uh. It's nothing. I'd like to see the magazine too.

Kuroh: Are you worried about whether you will still be with me 7 years from now?

Saya: …Just a little bit. Because something may happen and the happiness you feel now may suddenly be destroyed…

Kuroh: If it's about your ability, if anything goes wrong, it's just a matter of me to protect you.

Saya: But what if Kuro-kun will change his mind?

Kuroh: That's not possible. You know my character. I would never think about anyone else but you.

Kuroh: Same to you, aren't you going to change your mind?

Saya: M-Me too, I too can't think of anyone else but Kuro-kun!

Kuroh: …I'm kidding. We have feelings for each other, and that's all that matters.

Kuroh: From now on, we will spend the next 20 to 30 years together.

There is no time to be worried.

Saya: Kuro-kun…

Kuroh: I like you. I want to continue to spend time with you.

Kuroh: What about you?

Saya: I like Kuro-kun, too, and I want to stay with you forever.

Kuroh: Then it's okay. Whenever you feel worried, we can comfirm our match like this again.

Kuroh: No matter how many times you ask me, I'll give you the same answer. So don't hesitate to ask.

Saya: Uhm…I will.

Saya: (There was nothing to be worried about. Because Kuro likes me so much)

Kuroh: No matter what happens, I will be with Saya, I swear to protect you.

Kuroh: Let's live through the same time together from now on.

[Prev: Happy ending][Next: Good ending]

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

The Snake in the Garden

Chapter 6  

Choices – The Royal Romance, an alternate universe 

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 

Catch Up on previous chapters – Marabelle Masterlist 

Main Pairing – Liam Rys x F!OC Sophia (Sophie) Taylor  

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson 

Most characters belong to Pixelberry. 

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language & innuendo. 

Not Beta’d - Please excuse all errors. 

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff. 

Words – 2480

The Snake in the Garden, Chapter 6 

Chapter Summary – Sophie joins the ladies of the court at the palace for the garden tea party hosted by Madeleine (the Queen in waiting). At the palace, secrets are revealed. 

Music Inspiration - Tongue-Tied, Samantha Gibb, Love Me Like You Do, Jonah Baker, I Surrender, Claire Richards 

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother. 

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events. 

A/N3: My submission for Choices Flashfics @choicesflashfics, Week #45, Prompt 2 - “Just leave. You’re good at that.” & Prompt 3 - “I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” 

Marabelle trotted at an effortless pace alongside the glistening water of the shoreline as Sophie sang along to a song playing through her ear buds. 

‘I’d surrender everything’ 

‘To feel the chance to live again’ 

‘I reach to you’ 

‘I know you can feel it too’ 

Sophie softly touched her cheek remembering the birthday kiss from Prince Liam on the dance floor at the Beaumont Bash. To say she was delighted would be an understatement. Sophie was smitten. The attention the charming prince showered on her made her ‘weak in the knees’ and wanting more.

 It was a beautiful and warm summer morning. The sun shone brightly, and the water glistened; it was going to be a sweltering day. Starting to feel the heat, she lifted her long hair off her shoulders to clip into a ponytail and decided to return to the estate for a shower. 

As Sophie and Marabelle got closer to the estate, alongside the entrance to the stable, Sophie spotted Drake chatting with Maxwell and Daniel. She knew that Drake was at the estate for his weekly maintenance check on the stable and to set the weekly directions for the stable hands. 

Maxwell and Daniel were enjoying their newfound friendship. Sophie shook her head with a smile knowing that the pair could eventually develop that friendship into something more. She was thrilled for them, knowing that their personalities would complement the others' well. Daniel’s laid-back ways will be a calming presence for Max, who she knew was searching for a life partner of his own. 

The question was whether Daniel would ever plan a move from New York to Cordonia. She knew, like herself, he did not have family in the US and he had no commitments to hold him back. Sophie had felt guilty for leaving her dear friend behind and alone. He just needed a reason to join her. And he found it! 

She was elated to see the relationship between Max and Daniel ignite at the Bash. Daniel, being such a sweet guy, deserved the attention of a well-meaning partner; a partner he could not find in New York. In her opinion, Max would fill that role perfectly. 

Everything was going well with Sophie’s move. Settling into her new home easily, she was looking forward to a future in Cordonia. Her extended family was doing everything possible to make her feel comfortable and secure at the estate. In September, when she begins her studies at the university in the Capital, she will have Maxwell with her to show her around and be a guide as well. 

Now that she was 18 and ‘legal’, Max had promised to take her into the Capital to a nightclub. She knew, however, that while Max’s intentions were well-meaning, his focus is shifted now to her best friend, Daniel. Sophie did not mind though, because in all honesty, her focus was now on a certain prince. 

“Good morning, Squirrel!” Daniel sauntered over to greet her as Marabelle slowed to a stop. 

“Hey Daniel, you are up and about early this morning.” Sophie dismounted and moved to give her best friend a hug. 

Maxwell joined the pair, “’Squirrel’...I wish I would have thought of that nickname. It’s perfect for you!” 

“Hi Max,” Sophie grinned. “Oh no, not you, too!” 

“Beaumont, what is it with you? What is wrong with calling her Sophie?” Drake raised his brow and smirked at the look on Max’s face. 

“Just because you do not have the gift of humor doesn’t mean I have to be silenced.” Maxwell replied back. 

“You do realize you are calling your cousin a ‘bushy-tailed rodent’,” Drake countered. 

“Ookay... this conversation is going sideways.” Sophie shook her head, reaching for Marabelle’s reins. 

“Come on girl, let's get you a snack,” leading her horse towards the stable. 

“That’s my cue. Wait up, Sophie, I will walk with you.” 

Drake followed, first chuckling and mock punching Max’s arm. 

Sophie and Drake walked together towards the stable, an awkward air of uncertainty between them. 

After a few minutes, the chime of Drake’s phone broke the silence.  

“You must be in demand today,” Sophie quipped. 

“Yes, well, I am being called back to the palace.” Drake sighed slipping his phone back into his back pocket. 

Sophie smiled softly, “duty calls.” 

“I wanted to check up on the horses here before it gets too hot out today.” 

Drake patted the side of Marabelle’s face, “how are we feeling, girl?” 

“I am taking her back to her stall to give her some shade and treats,” Sophie grinned at her horse. 

“I have to say that I am impressed. Marabelle settled in here at the estate quickly. I can tell she likes you.” Drake smiled, looking at Marabelle. 

Sophie looked over at Drake, beaming, “awe, thank you.”  

With Marabelle now in her stall, Sophie closed the gate, securing a bucket of apples and watermelon to the inside railing. 

“I wish I could spend more time with you today, girl.” Sophie stroked the horse's nose as Marabelle happily munched on an apple piece. 

Drake took off his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief.  

“It is so hot out here. I would love nothing more than to jump in the lake. But I can’t.” 

“Yes, and I need to jump in the shower and get ready. I am expected at the palace at 1 p.m. for the garden party.”  

“A word of advice?” Drake looked at Sophie expectantly. 

“Beware the ladies of the court. Do not trust any of them...they are a den of snakes.” 

Maxwell snickered as he walked up, “Do not mind Drake, my cynical friend. They are not all particularly bad.”  

“Well, what do I know?” Drake said with defiance. 

“What my sister had to tolerate from those women, everything that I was afraid of happening, happened.”  

“Will Savannah be at the garden party, Drake?” Sophie asked. 

Drake laughed sarcastically, “not on your life.” 

“But they are not like you, Squirrel.” Maxwell interjected. 

Sophie looked between the pair. The garden party would be the first time she would be interacting ‘one on one’ with these same women today.  

 “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Max. I think?”  

*** 

Cordonian Royal Palace Courtyard 

Queen-in-waiting Countess Madeleine Amaranth, stood beside Queen mother Regina under the trellis personally greeting the ladies of the Royal court and invited guests to her inaugural garden tea party. Not sparing any expense, Madeleine was in her element, feeling superior in station and was not shy in showing it. 

Sipping lemonade, Sophie sat with her Aunt Bethany, Duchess Adelaide and Princess Beatrice of Belgium.  If anything, it was entertaining watching the interactions between the guests. 

“Sophia, you are a delightful addition to court.” Adelaide was very inquisitive, noticing that Prince Liam had been paying a lot of attention to her the night of the Beaumont Bash. 

Sophie politely smiled but stayed silent as Adelaide continued to drone on about nothing in particular. 

“Well, I can tell you one thing, my dear. When I was young and beautiful, men always wanted me. No matter what. But now? It’s like I’m just invisible to them. And it's so infuriating!” 

“Oh, I understand,” Princess Beatrice said, rolling her eyes. 

“Adelaide, how is your husband, Godfrey? I have not seen him in the Capital for quite some time.” 

Bethany inquired, raising her eyebrow. 

At that, Sophie stood from the table, “please excuse me a moment. Auntie Beth, I am going to stretch my legs.”  

As she travelled towards the terrace outside the palace, Sophie paused when she overheard her name being mentioned on the other side of the tall hedge. 

“Pour qui se prend-elle? Pensant que le prince s’intèresserait à elle.” 

(Who does she think she is? Thinking that the prince would be interested in her.) 

Sophie peered through the branches and noticed Lady Kiara standing beside Lady Penelope next to a dessert table. 

Penelope nodded her head in agreement and whispered loudly, “exactly! The nerve of that American.” 

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Sophie turned to her left. 

“Lady Sophia, you look lost.” Olivia grinned at Sophie’s expression of surprise. 

“Why are you acting so surprised, Sophie? You should have expected this from Kiara and Penelope.” 

Sophie frowned and responded, “What’s that supposed to mean, Duchess?” 

“Oh, you will learn quickly on how to play their game,” Olivia replied with a mischievous smile. 

Olivia, herself, was in the process of finding out information on the newest member of the court. Especially since she had also noticed that she had caught the eye of Prince Liam. 

Sophie could only sigh in response. Although she had been included into the circle of ladies of the court, she still had to find her place in the court. To do that, she had a lot of information to discover. 

After the awkward conversation, Sophie excused herself to enter the palace to freshen up and to temporarily escape from the hot Mediterranean sun. 

Entering the sitting room, Sophie sat down on a sofa and pulled out her phone. 

*** 

The leggy strawberry blonde opened the large ornate door to the Crown Prince’s private quarters. After spending the previous evening with Leo, she left her lover to leave the palace to return to her apartment in the Capital. 

Veronica was bound by a Cordonian Arrangement, and a non-disclosure agreement, and spent several nights a week with Leo. Madeleine was well aware of his mistress and when she passed the future queen, she made no eye contact but held her head up high and smirked.

Madeleine stalked into the Royal suite in search of her betrothed. When she found him sipping his coffee on the veranda, she did not hold back her rage. 

“Of all days, you must flaunt your trollip while I am hosting my garden party?"

“Oh, it's you? Why are you not at your party?” Leo sneered, daring Madeleine to respond. 

Madeleine did not back down and scowled, “It is your duty to attend the party, as the future King, in the address to the court. Instead, you are fucking your whore! Some King you will make!” 

Immediately standing, Leo slammed his cup against the table, smashing it. 

“I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Leo seethed, slowly walking inside. 

“I am Royal by birth, Countess. You do not presume anything!” 

Leo continued to walk past Madeleine to enter his chamber and slammed the door behind him. 

“Just leave. You’re good at that.” Madeleine shouted in response and stormed out of the Royal suite, incensed, to return to the garden party. 

Entering the powder room next to the sitting room by the palace courtyard, Madeleine broke down. “You cannot do this to me Leo! You cannot embarrass me with your whore!” 

“I should have known that you would flaunt your lovers, but I do not have to see it!” 

Sitting down at the vanity, she wiped her tears, cursing herself for forgetting that her make-up bag was up in her room. 

After over-hearing a commotion of angry words, Sophie stood and entered the powder room. She froze in place at the undeniable sound of a woman sobbing and crying out. 

Madeleine stood up, hearing the door open behind her. 

“You heard that?” she says aghast, looking at Sophie. 

“Well, you know now, don’t you. I am the worst of fools.” 

“Did I really just hear you say that?” Sophie asks, blinking. 

“Oh Sophie, do not pretend to be shocked," Madeleine says, brushing back her hair with a trembling hand. 

“To be involved with a Rys, means they hold all the cards. It is their birthright.” 

“I will be Queen. That is what the Cordonian arrangement is for.” 

To say that Sophie was overwhelmed would be an understatement. There was a mix of emotions affecting her in a perfect storm; stunned, terrified, puzzled, and doubt were combining to make her question her place in the court and her self-confidence. 

Planning to rejoin the garden party, Sophie appeared from behind the column and walked swiftly away from the sitting room.

Still in the palace, Sophie turned and feeling flustered, she ran face first into a man’s broad chest. 

"Whoa, whoa ...hey Sophie". Liam chuckled, holding her arms to slow her impact. 

Looking up she was met with his kind, crystal blue eyes, but could not formulate a response. She was truly tongue-tied. 

He released her, his hands lingering before pulling away. Sophie could feel her heartbeats pick up, her throat tighten.

As if he sensed her uneasiness Liam spoke first.

"Sophie, I uh... I wanted to ask if you would have time to meet with me and talk after the garden party. I want to get to know you better, and I can tell you've had a rough day."

He cleared his throat.

Sophie spoke quickly, "I would love to get to know you Liam, yes!"

📌@ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @kyra75 @lovingchoices14 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics 📌

[equestriagirl16]

Under the mistletoe~🎄

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Here’s a lil something for those who are curious as to how twst bois would share a smooch with their favorite prefect in a familiar tradition.~

Notes: I guess this also counts as my 1k followers special, thank y’all so much!!! Pls reply/reblog. !Ortho is platonic!

Riddle is in an interesting case. Somewhat stuck between being all too willing to participate yet stubborn in his embarrassment. He was probably pushed towards the thought by his fellow dorm members, eventually cooking up an idea after collaring them. He decided to simply coerce you to join him in this activity, enforcing it as another silly rule during Heartslabyul’s Holiday tea party. When you arrived, you stood chatting with your friends. That’s when he sauntered over in an authoritative manner as always.

“MC if I could have a moment with you. Would you mind standing here.”

“Sure Riddle but what’s-ooooh.” You go along with him standing across from the strangely stiff ruler under a lit and well decorated shrub arch. Curious about what he needed you for, until you saw that familiar green bundle hanging above you two.

“A-According to Rule #259 all holiday traditions must be carried out in full. So of course this is no exception-”

You swiftly hush his rambling with quick peck on the lips leaving him speechless, with his face adorably flushing redder than the colored lights.

“Well who am I to break the queen’s rules. Merry Christmas riddle”

“M-Merry Christmas MC.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Ace would try his best to play it cool, being the suave playboy he desperately tries to be. Perhaps he did it as a dare or on a whim, either way he knew this could be a perfect opportunity to fluster you. That site would be sweeter than any of the food set out and rest to eat at the party. He’d attempt to distract you during your conversation after you arrived. You both slowly make you’re way over to the same arch, as you try not to notice his blatantly shifting eyes the whole time.

“Hey MC, bet you didn’t notice where we’re standing.”

“No clue, unless you’re referring to the mistletoe conveniently placed right above us.”

“Ah-way to ruin the surprise! I was trying to be romantic here.”

You hum apologetically and seal it with a kiss on his warming cheek. When you step away you’re quickly pulled back into his chest.

“Hey, you missed a spot.” He says planting a nice smooch right on your lips, just as planned.

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Deuce being the sweet boy he is would most likely just ask, admittedly a bit nervously. The gesture is always something that’s been on his mind during this time of year. Seeing school peers participate, and even hearing his mom go on about her younger days, made him quite curious about the act. Now that he has someone to try it with he was more enthusiastic than he’d like to show, hoping his sweaty hands wouldn’t give it away. When you stepped into the lit up garden, he unleashed every ounce of confidence to grab your hand and drag you over to a familiar designated spot.

“Ok ok Deuce slow down, your gonna rip my arm off here.” You say between giggles as he abruptly stops you two under the same arch.

“Sorry it’s that I-uh. I really wanted to do this with you before I chicken out.”

“And what’s that-oh!” Without another word he silently points above you as you direct your attention to the dangling plant.

“Awe Deuce.” Before he knew it your lips were on his, and despite his protest they moved to both his cheeks right after.

“Merry Christmas Deuce.”

“Hm, Merry Christmas MC.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Trey absolutely adored the idea for a long time, knowing it was a romantic moment shared between lovers. He just thought it was cute, and what better way to spend the holidays than doing something cute with you. He would plan his attempt during either the cleanup or prep for the festivities, but either way you’d be in the kitchen helping him out. Perhaps while you’re distracted he’ll make his way to you with a little surprise behind his back.

“Thanks again for the help MC, you really are a lifesaver.”

“Its no problem Trey you know I love helping you out.”

“Yeah I do. By the way what’s that?”

“What’s wha-”

You see him lift his arm and immediately notice the quite little piece of holly he held above you.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe this will answer.” You lay sweet yet deep kiss onto unsurprising sweet lips. When you break you’re greeted with a familiar wide smile.

“Was that what you were looking for?”

“Hahaha, always.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Ok, Cater knew kissing under the mistletoe is like THE thing to do if you have a partner during this time of year. All across his magicam page were couples in their winter attire all snuggled up and lovey. He wanted to do that too, especially with you, not only would it be magical but his followers would go crazy over the content! He would honestly just go for it, but with a cute amount of misdirection. Simply asking for a photo op under the same decorated arch for his magicam page.

“Alright MC, just stand right there I’m gonna set up the camera.”

“Cmon Cater you pulled me away before dinner started. I’m starving!”

“Ok here I come!”

He jogs over to you embracing you in a back hug as you both pose waiting for the flash of the phone. However, when Cater knew there was only a second left he swept in for sweet and loving kiss right on your cheek much to your surprise. When the camera went off he instantly went back over to retrieve his device.

“Omg MC! You look so cute, everyone’s gonna go gaga over our special mistletoe pic!”

“Mistletoe?” Curiously you looked up to spot the dangling plant in question.

“Cater!”

“Whaaaat, you don’t like my gift MC?”

Leona wouldn’t care at first, at least not in the sense that he’s running to you thirsting for a holiday smooch. He’d probably raise an ear to it once he heard about it from another source, or maybe even straight up from you. Not to mention the thought of being the one and only to sweep you off your feet would stroke his ego. You can thank a certain hyena friend of yours for the push. So he thought if it’d satisfy you too, he might as well put in a little effort.

“Hey Herbivore over here.” You heard Leona call you from his comfy spot in the Savanaclaw lounge. They were having a little holiday celebration, that he casually invited you to. You trotted over and plopped down right next to him, getting comfortable yourself.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm probably that.” You look up as he pointed to the mistletoe dangling within the canopy you two were under. Before you could say anything, he tugged you by the waist and smothered you in a heavy kiss. When you pulled up for air he then dragged you to lay down with him in one swift motion.

“The holidays are always so tiring, stay here for a while and don’t move alright.”

“Alright, ya big kitty.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Ruggie honestly thinks it’s a little cliche but it did seem like a good way to get a laugh out of you. He’s only ever seen in some of those movies, or seen people do it as he passed them by on the streets. He thought it was sweet enough, a bit mushy, but that’s how he feels when it comes to you anyway. Plus if there was anything he could do to make you happy he would. Not too keen on anything that involves expenses, but a free act of service is always his go to. So he came up with something on the fly when you came to their holiday party.

“Hey MC, you got something right there.”

“Oh what is it-WAHAHAHA RUGGIE!” As he pretended to reach for the mysterious something on your body, he began to tickle you within an inch of your life. You eventually fell over dragging him down with you. He stops after that as you catch your breath.

“R-Ruggie what was that for?!”

“Shishishi, found it.”

He holds up the little bundle of holly above your head, smooshing a kiss against your cheek before rapidly pecking your lips earning more giggles from you.

“Hope you enjoyed gift number 1. Sorry there’s not many after that.”

“I’d say you're off to a great start, but don’t worry about all that. I’m already plenty happy.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Jack wouldn’t really know how to go about it when he eventually decided on doing it. Mostly egged on by his first year friends to try being more romantic with you. He may not be too gung-ho, but it’s a nice opportunity to share something sweet with you. I think he’d be very straightforward about it, he’s not the suavest guy but the genuineness is more than enough.

“MC, would you like to join me for something for a second?”

“Yeah sure, you need anything?”

“Well I heard about this whole mistletoe tradition and was just wondering…” You notice him start to trail off as his face turns a slightly darker shade. It’s cute you think, usually such a big brave wolf trying to ask for something like this. How could you not oblige.

“I’d love to. Cmere big guy.” You quickly drag him over to the nearest mistletoe you see hanging and without hesitation pull him down into a kiss. It lasted a bit longer than you expected, but it was well worth it to see a flustered Jack with a fast wagging tail behind him.

“Thanks MC, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Jack.”

Kalim is also extremely forward, just the absolute most excitable and sweetest boy when it comes to the romantics. The holiday ones were no exception either. He’s seen so many films, and plays, and even relatives indulge in this tradition. So how could he possibly resist setting up something special for you, ya know aside from the million other things he got you this year. That way he has another excuse to throw a huge party at his dorm and make you a guest of honor. Specifically requesting an entire hut be reserved for the occasion.

“MC! I’m so happy you could make it! Come with me quick.”

“Ok ok, just slow down for a sec.” You both merrily jog throughout the lounge and make it to said hut. When Kalim pulls back the curtains you witness a beautifully decorated little hideout made for two. Like a holiday oasis, complete with a mistletoe hanging in the center. You could swear you saw jewels in that thing.

“MC, I’m so happy I get to spend this time with you. Do you think I could have the honor of sharing a holiday kiss?” He asks grabbing both your hands tenderly and leading you under the dangling plant.

“Awe Kalim, the honors all mine.” You both sweetly lean in for a picture perfect kiss. It was soft but made you feel so light, smiling sweetly at eachother when you separated.

“Merry Christmas MC, now let’s head back to the party!”

“Right behind you!”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Jamil would be extremely hesitant, mostly because he’s not one for the mushy stuff. He’s also witnessed this activity from friends and family, but never would he have thought he’d get the same chance. He wants it in his own right, but if he does do it has to be private and personal. Something he can share with you alone and feel the pride well up inside him when he hopefully gets to see your flustered face in the night.

“MC, can I borrow you for a second.”

“Huh? Oh yeah sure.” You break away from your conversation with Kalim and follow Jamil throughout the hallways of the Scarabia dorm. Stopping to sit on a window bay while you both peeked out the frosted glass.

“So what can I do for you Jamil?”

“I don’t need anything. Though Kalim’s parties are so extravagant I can barely think.”

“Yeah I needed a bit of a breather too.”

“Luckily I know a great way to distract us.” Opening your mouth to ask what that may be all that came out was a gasp seeing Jamil be mere inches away from your face. The pull at that point was undeniable as your lips collided with his in a strong kiss.

“You gave in so easily I didn’t even need the mistletoe did I?”

You raise your head to see the plant in question secured to the window above your head. Chuckling you lean onto him smirking when he looks down at you with a bit of deep red on his cheeks that he tried to hide.

“I guess not.”

Vil is slick with it, an extremely proficient charmer. He would also know very well about this sweet holiday tradition. Unfortunately, throughout the years he’d be constantly pestered by fans and others alike to indulge in the deed with them. Of course he never gave them the time of day, he may love having the world in his hands but somethings were special. A sacred activity he would only share with someone he deemed to be his only beloved. Naturally, sweeping you off your feet comes with ease so he really didn’t have to plan too far ahead with this one. Mistletoe was practically a huge part of Pomefiore’s decorations this time of year. All he had to do was invite you over to their holiday ball, clad in the most beautiful Yule tide attire of course.

“Sooo how do I look?” You ask confidently yet still seeking his esteemed approval.

“Hmm, you clean up quite well. You just need some final touches.” Carefully he reaches for the collar of your clothing, folding and fiddling with it absentmindedly. He notices how you look at him with nothing but adoration and patience unlike any other. Standing straight and elegantly just like he always taught you. His face softened as both his hands settled on the sides of your face, squishing it a bit.

“You really are an adorable little potato aren’t you?”

“Hehe I try, but you’re always so gorgeous Vil. Thanks for inviting me.”

You beamed so brightly in your gratitude and Vil could actually feel himself become restless. He needed something, and intended on getting it right this moment. Hands still firmly planted on your face he pulled you forward delicately kissing your lips as you enjoyed the soft feel of his own. The moment was brief and gentle, yet you looked beyond breathless when it was over.

“What was that for?”

“Well I have to give credit where it’s due. Like I said, you look quite elegant tonight my dear. It would also be a shame to miss such a picture perfect opportunity.”

He gestured to one of many branches of holly that decorated the walls over your head.

“I suppose it would. Merry Christmas Vil.”

“Merry Christmas MC.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Now Rook would be one of the few to deviously plot how he would ensnare his little prey into such a compelling trap. What a beautiful way to celebrate ones love for another during one of the prettiest seasons as well. He’s always been unashamed in his flirtations, so what reason would their be for him to hesitate when it comes to swooning you. Of course he’d watch throughout the night to strategically plot where you would end up halfway through the party. Making his entrance when your guard was down.

“Hello Mon Amour.”

“GAAAAAH-Rook! Where are you even hanging from?!”

“Apologies, but there is something I must share with you. It’s very important you see.”

“This better be worth the heart attack.”

“Of course, if you could turn your attention to your left.” Swiftly you turn your head in that direction seeing a delicately put together mistletoe Rook had hanging right in front of your face. You attempt to question him, but when you turn your head back the right side of your cheek was met with a chaste kiss from a smirking pair of lips. You pull back in surprise much to his amument.

“Hahaha what an adorable face your making! Mignonne/Mignone~.

With a pout an idea quickly popped into your head. You pull the upside down man towards you planting a huge kiss on his lips. Now it was his turn to be flustered.

“How’s that for cute.”

“Hmm, my point still stands!”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Epel obviously knew about the classic tradition, things like those are pretty common back on the farm you know. It was also something he knew he had to accomplish as soon as he had a partner. Because Epel is a man, a manly man. Manly men swoon their partners, they make the first move. They sweep them off their feet, and they definitely don't get cold feet seeing them in the flesh that night. No, he can do this, he has to, he’s gotta prove he can step up and be the one to steal that sweet holiday kiss from you. It’d be perfect, just like all those Christmas romcoms his grandma watches every year. So with a deep breath he stomps over to you.

“MC, you look great tonight. Well not just tonight, I mean you always look nice.”

“Why thank you Epel, you look quite handsome yourself.” You say reaching over to adjust his lopsided bow tie, although you did like it that way. The action made his breath get caught in his throat so without a second thought he took that same hand and dragged you away to somewhere private.

“C-Come with me!”

“Ok-Woah!”

He led you to a more secluded hallway, somewhere he knew he could drop the formalities.

“Listen MC, Imma be honest with ya. You know nobody gets my heart beatin like you do so I-I wanted to have one of those special holiday kisses. Do somethin all romantic ya know?”

“Well isn’t that uncharacteristically sweet of you.”

“Uh-” Before you let him say more you bring his face to yours in a swift smooch. Squeaking when you feel him bring you in closer by your waist almost hungrily. You both separate flushed and panting.

“Damn, you sure are somethin else.”

“You’re not too bad yourself. Merry Christams Epel.”

“Merry Christmas darlin.”

Like no lie I can’t get the thought out of my head of Azul purposely covering the entirety of the Mostro Lounge head to toe in the little Christmas bundles. He’s a smart man, he knew all the ins and outs of what lovers participate in. So what better way to win you over once again, with a little planing of course. When the preparations were done, he’d claim it as being a part of their special winter event theme to reel in customers. Although the one he mainly wanted to reel in, however, was you in what he thought to be a master plan.

“Happy Holidays MC, you have my gratitude for volunteering in the Lounge tonight.”

“Well from what I gathered at first I was just invited, but somehow you roped me into kitchen duty.”

“More hands on deck are always needed, and worry not you will be compensated. In fact if you’ll join me this way for a second.” Offering a hand to you, the suited gentlemen led you away towards the aquarium displays. You took a moment to bask in the beauty of the sea creatures gracefully swimming about. As Azul looked at you with a smile ghosting on his own face.

“I see you’ve once again taken an interest in our display, but I think you’d enjoy it even more if you take a further look towards the top.” Following his advice you adjust your gaze upwards, seeing a string of mistletoe adorned along the top edges of the tank. You feel a presence close to your side as you slowly look back down, your eyes meeting pair hidden behind glasses.

“Well now, it seems we’ve come under traditional holiday obligation. You wouldn’t mind indulging in me would you?”

“It seems I have no choice, I am under oath after all.” You say with fake dramatics, pulling a chuckle out of him. Within a moment's notice, he delicately grabbed your face bringing it closer to his at an agonizingly slow pace. Although the wait was worth it, feeling his lips delicately press against yours. It was swift and sweet yet you don't think he was breathing the entire time.

“I hope that was to your liking.”

“Considering you went through all this effort to dress up the Lounge I’d say it would suffice.” A wave of red and a pair of fogged glasses stared blankly at you. Another quick peck on the cheek would make things better right?

“You’re adorable, Happy holidays Azul.”

“A-And to you as well MC.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Jade is probably the most forward out of anyone here, yet also quite unique. He’s also someone that appreciates the romantics, especially the aesthetic of it all. The season set up quite the perfect mood for such a sweet moment. The thought of being able to share that with you brought him a good deal of joy, perhaps he could prepare something special. He had different plans and they didn’t start with the Lounge rather the gardens. He humbly requested that you take a break from your duties and accompany him on a nice stroll. See the frost decorate the glass walls of the building maybe.

“Woah the windows look so cool.”

“I agree, although I would like to show you something before you’re too far gone.” You playfully try to nudge his arm but he evades and grabs your hand, guiding you further into the gardens.

“Since this is a special time of year I decided to experiment a bit with a certain plant that seems to be customary during the winter.”

“You mean like some poinsettia-woooooah!” You gaze up at a humongous tree with spindly green leaves. Each small branch being decorated with shiny pearls and ribbon.

“Did you really grow this whole thing yourself?!”

“Of course, a little magic and dedication go a long way. Although it was still hard work, I think some compensation for my efforts is in order.”

“Hehe, alright maybe you’ve earned a little something.”

No further words were shared as you both crept towards one another, and embraced almost seamlessly. His kiss was graceful with a slight hunger behind it, causing you to be lost in a daze when you broke off.

“I’m glad you enjoyed my little gift. Perhaps you’d like to take some home as a momento?”

“If you can manage to hack off anything from that monster I’d be happy to.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Floyd is also bold, very bold, scarily bold. Bravery to the point where decorum is no longer an option as he tried to weasel you out of the Lounge. You see, any opportunity he has at all to tease you in the slightest he’ll take it in a heartbeat. Especially this one, being able to share a Christmas kiss with his shrimpy? Ah, he could just eat you up! Your talk through the night was tame enough, but he seemed to have some extra anticipation running through his veins. Acting on instinct he began to tickle and tease until you both broke into an all out chase. Speeding down the hallways loudly and without a care in the world.

“Shrimpy come back! You know you can’t outrun me!”

“No! You play too rough!”

“That’s only because I LOVE you!” He emphasizes finally on your heels and tackling you to the ground. He resumed his onslaught of tickling, finding pleasure in your giggle filled begs. Eventually he let up knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“Ok ok!! UNCLE, FLOYD STOOOOP!!”

“Alright Shrimpy I’m done, no more tickles. I do have one more gift for you though.”

“Floyd please, I don’t think I can handle any more surprise-” The mischievous eel quickly stole your breath away, smashing his mouth against yours. You whined as you felt the collision of teeth, but the pain was soothed as he let up a bit. Kissing you passionately, coming up only to plant more kisses all across your face and neck making you laugh and squirm again.

“Floyd! You promised!”

“No, I don't think I did actually. Besides, how can I resist giving my cute Shrimpy all these kisses when we’re under the mistletoe.”

Realizing what he said you look up to see a bundle of the delicate plant hanging above the windowsill you two crashed under.

“Sneaky eel.”

“Cute Shrimpy.”

Ortho is an adorable case to say the least. He hadn’t even had anything planned in the first place. The young robotic friend of yours just wanted to invite his bestie to Ignihyde’s Holiday dorm celebration. He arranged most of it himself, with surprisingly a lot of help from his brother. Idia knew deep down the gesture would make his little sibling happy. So despite his lack of presence, he did what he could. So when you walked through the door, he was just over the moon already.

“MC! I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Of course, anything for you bud.” He squished you in a hug, that took a bit of the wind out of you due to his unconscious strength.

“I assume your brother’s still cooped up in his room?”

“He’s actually just taking a break for now. Big brother’s been really helpful so far, he promised to try if it’ll make me happy!”

“That’s great Ortho! Do you think we could see him before everything gets started? I don’t want to pressure him to come out too much tonight, so let’s just visit him in private for now.“

“Great idea MC, follow me.”

You trotted behind the flame headed boy as he soared off towards Idia’s room. When you both were walking down the hallway you noticed a little something hanging above his bedroom door.

“I see your brother could only manage a bit of mistletoe for his decor huh?”

“Oh! That was actually my idea. I have a surprise planned for big brother and you're going to be the one to help me finish it.”

“Am I now? Well before I give your brother this gift, how about a little something for the party planner?”

“Oh?”

You swoop him into a strong hug as he reciprocates, enjoying the warmth you both bring to each other. Giving him a quick and obnoxiously loud kiss on the cheek, bringing a laugh out of the adorable cyborg.

“Awe thank you MC! I’m glad we get to spend Christmas with you.”

“Me too little buddy.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Idia was taking a much needed breather after helping his brother out with this party. All that direction took a lot out of the poor man and he needed just a little time to himself. Relaxing in his solitude enjoying the Holiday events in his favorite games. Undisturbed and thriving, only for that all to come crashing down as he heard a knock on his door. He practically jumped out of his skin so hard he fell over in his chair. Embarrassed despite no one being able to see him, he quickly rushed over to see who could be possibly bothering him right now!

“Who’s there!”

“Big brother it’s me, and I brought MC too!”

“M-M-MC?!”

“Hi Idia, think you could open the door?”

With ridiculously shaky hands he forced himself to at least crack it open. He wanted to see you tonight but not so soon! It’s a good thing he didn’t start that quest yet.

“H-Hey.”

“Cmon big brother it’s just us, you can come out.”

“I know that! Just hang on.” He finally steps all the way out his bedroom, closing the door behind him so you don't see the mess he always leaves in his wake.

“So Idia, your brother says you helped plan the party. That’s so nice of you.”

“Y-Yeah of course. I had nothing else to do so I thought I might as well.”

“And as a thank you for doing such a great job, we set up a little surprise. Somewhere up there.” Confused Idia looked up to where you were pointing, all the color left his face when he did. A mistletoe…A MISTLETOE!! Like the same mistletoe people kiss under in all those cringey normie holiday movies?! The exact same mistletoe he always sees be used in those otomes so the main lead can swoon their love interest?! No way, WAS HE THE LOVE INTEREST??! That can’t be right, you’re YOU and he’s HIM! You can’t honestly be saying that you want to kiss him! Or have him kiss you?! Well he can’t say he hasn’t dreamed of it before, but he’s not ready. He does want this, he wants you, but it’s just too much. Too sudden, his heart is pounding, his head is spinning. This is finally it for him isn’t it??

“Big brother, your heart rate is dangerously high! Do you need assistance?”

“NO-I mean, I’m fine I just-! MC, do you really wanna..?”

“Well, yeah, only if you do though. I would never make you do anything you don’t want to Idia. If this is too much, just say the word ok?” Of course it’s too much, but to turn you down right now just makes him feel even worse! If this feeling really is mutual then what’s stopping him? His dumb heart, and sweaty hands, he can’t let his own head ruin this moment. He can’t let you slip away because he’s scared, not this time. Just this once, he has to do something! ANYTHING! If his body would just MOVE!

So it did, almost automatically his stiff and shaky frame moved so fast you could barely tell what happened. All you could feel were clammy hands clutching into your arms, and a pair of quivering lips laying against yours. You return the favor and lean closer into him, something that elicited a squeak of surprise from the fiery man. You both backed away and dazed at one another not really sure as to what just happened.

“Big brother you did it!”

“I DID IT?!”

“Heh, you did.” You say hugging the Idia warmly.

“And I couldn’t ask for a better gift.”

“Aaaaah, this is the best Christmas ever!”

Malleus, our sweet dragon prince, is a romantic at heart. All the stories he’s been told, and the relationships he’s seen through tinted windows would only encourage his love for the theatrics of it all. Although he is still blissfully ignorant to a good deal of customary ways humans indulge in one another. So when he heard that there was a special plant people share a kiss under during the Winter session, he just had to seize the opportunity. He learned all he could from books, and even asked Lilia if this plant had any magical properties. Maybe it has a love spell to seduce your partner, or it binds souls for eternity perhaps? Luckily, the vampiric caretaker assured Malleus that this is just a simple tradition amongst humans. But the ones that require no spells or tricks tend to be the most significant don’t they?

Diasomnia isn’t very well known for their Christmas celebrations, but an attempt was made regardless. Mostly as an excuse to invite you to their humble ball. Malleus waited for your arrival with bated breaths, the only quell being seeing you happily greet his dorm members as you walked through the ballroom.

“MC, I’m so happy you could make it. I’m sure everyone will be glad that the guest of honor has finally arrived.”

“I don’t need all that spotlight Mal. I'm just happy to be here, and to see you.”

“And for that I am forever grateful.” He swiftly takes one of your hands and brings it up to his lips in a chaste kiss. Grinning mischievously at your awestruck face.

“Would it be alright if I borrowed you before the festivities begin?”

“This isn’t another kidnapping attempt is it?”

“Haha! For tonight only, you have my word.”

You squint at him suspiciously, yet he leads you out of the ballroom regardless. You both end up around the back of the dorms where bushels and plant life grew. Festering with dark thorns, now covered in a thin blanket of frost and snow. It was almost ethereal in a way, such a dangerous plant that held such beauty.

“I can see you’re enjoying the view as well. The beauty of nature at its finest, wouldn't you agree?”

“Indeed I would Draconia.”

“Speaking of plant life, I learned a very interesting human custom recently. Apparently around this time of year couples usually engage in a romantic kiss under a particular bundle of branches, do they not? I believe it’s called..”

“Mistletoe?” You interject, looking up to see a piece of the ribbon wrapped plant tied to an arching branch of thorns. Delicate yet dangerous, how poetic, and how familiar. You looked back down at the man in question who gazed at you expectantly and wanting.

“Awe Malleus.” You leaned in closer to the gleeful dragon. His eyes glowing in the night yet only staring at you while you advance. He embraced you yet as the distance closes between you two, the mistletoe slipped loose of its tie and blew away in the winter wind.

“Oh no!” Malleus noticed as well and without a second thought, he flew up to capture the bundle with you in tow. You gasped in surprise but were secure in his hold. As you two floated high up, the moment was almost incredibly dream-like. Being swept into the air by your charming fae as he held the plant above you. To his shock you took the initiative to grab his neck and pull him down into a kiss. It was sweet and intoxicating, as Malleus held you impossibly closer. You could tell he didn’t want to separate but unfortunately you needed air.

“I can see why this is such a prominent tradition among your kind. That was..”

“Magical?”

“Yet somehow so much more. Happy Holidays to you my love.”

“Happy Holidays, Malleus.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Lilia with all his years of wisdom in and out of the castle walls, he would be quite knowledgeable of this quant holiday tradition. He thought it was cute, and what a lovely way to celebrate the love between hearts on such an occasion. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to participate this year and snag the opportunity to see his favorite human become so adorably flush again. So without hesitation when you arrived at their little holiday gathering, he set his plan into motion.

“Well if it isn't our lovely MC, it’s good to see you tonight.”

“And you as well Lilia.” You say playfully bowing. He mimicked your gesture with a chuckle, and then grabbed your hand and led you towards the center of the ballroom. Gliding you around the marbled floor so gracefully you almost felt as if you were floating.

“You sure are lively tonight.”

“What can I say, this time of year puts just about anyone in a good mood.” The bat fae says spinning you one last time before dipping you down. Inching his face closer to yours with a fanged smile.

“And I suppose it helps that I have you in my arms as well.” His voice was almost a whisper as he firmly pecked your lips. A kiss so sudden you couldn’t help the muffled gasp that left you, yet you took time to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He pulled away, staring down at your cutely dazed face.

“Forgive me if I was too forward, I just wanted to indulge in a classic holiday tradition.” He looked towards the ceiling of the ballroom and you followed. Spotting the mistletoe that was loosely hanging above right where he conveniently halted your dance.

“I guess it’s nice that you’re still intrigued by human festivities.”

“Well I’d say more than that has piqued my interest. Happy Holidays MC.”

“Happy Holidays Lilia.”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Sebek is…Sebek, he would not know what to with himself. Let alone feel as if it was appropriate to participate in such a thing, especially not in a public setting where Malleus could see him! The thought makes him want to die of shame, yet he’s still not fully opposed to the idea. He supposes it would be nice to be intimate with you. Only once though, and only in private! So that’s the reason as to why he so suddenly pulled you away from any watching eyes at the ball. Firmly placing you across from him to sit down in a secluded study of sorts.

“Now that I’ve made sure my arm is still attached to my body, you wanna tell me why we’re here.”

“Of course! Simply put I wanted to share something..intimate! With you! And I couldn’t rightly do that in front of my master's eyes! Or anyone else for that matter!”

“With me?” Curious yet flustered, you avert your eyes to start scanning around the room. Your question was quickly answered seeing the hastily put together red and green bundle hanging from the ceiling.

“Ah, I see you’ve caught on. Well then *ahem* would you do me the honor…MC?” The green haired man, despite standing upright and proper, had a nervous shake about him. Trying his best to offer a fidgeting hand towards you. The gesture was adorable so without a second thought you placed your hands on his and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, followed by another on the cheek.

“You’re always so sweet in your own way, I appreciate the effort Sebek.”

“Thank you MC! I suppose..”

~~~~~~~~~🎄~~~~~~~~

Silver is extremely casual about the whole thing, he strikes me as someone who has an abundance of confidence despite his demeanor. Also thanks to being raised by you know who of course. The sleepy guy is very knowledgeable about all those Christmas time activities so he just figures, why not. If he got to share a sweet moment with you, then it’s something worth trying. Plus he may or may not have been heavily encouraged by a certain bat fae.

“Good evening MC, you look very nice tonight.”

“Well look who’s wide awake, thank you Silver.”

“Barely, I was prepping for tonight by napping as much as I could. I didn’t want to miss you after all.” He explains letting out a small yawn.

“I also wanted to ask you something. Think you could meet me outside?” You follow suit as he leads the way to outside of the dorm. From there he guides you to sit down next to him under a familiar tree he seems to comfortably lean against.

“It’s cold out here.”

“You can take my jacket for a second, we won’t be long.” His hands remain on your shoulders after he places the jacket around you.

“I remembered how when I was younger my father would tell me stories about lovers who shared a kiss under the mistletoe around this time of year. I would like to do the same with you, only if you’ll have me.”

That’s when you heard the small squeaks and scampering of woodland creatures approaching you two. The cutest little squirrel descends from the tree holding the same festive plant from his mouth over both your heads. The moment was so fairytale like, you figured Silver took those stories more literally than you thought. You couldn’t deny the expectant glint in his eyes however, while you two snuggled closer

“Hm, of course.”

He gently placed a hand on your jaw carefully pulling in until your lips met in a sweet kiss. It was delicate yet deep, and you both melted into it until the need to breath took over.

“Thank you MC, I’m glad that worked out so well.” He yawned, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Hey, a kiss is supposed to wake you up, not make you fall back to sleep!”

“Well you’re always full of surprises, and very comfortable. Merry Christmas MC.”

“Merry Christmas Silver.”

[sluggydrabbles]

FLUFFBRUARY 9 - READING TOGETHER

“Lady Trace’s eyes were sparkling green emeralds and her lips rubies. ‘My dear, what a pleasant surprise to see you here,’ she enunciated in melodious tones. Lucina’s breath had been stolen from her lungs by the lovely visage in front of her. ‘My lady, you startled me.’ Lady Trace’s eye were as green as a delicate Rhodian tea—“

”Wait, were they green like emeralds or green like tea?” Camilla cut in. “Those are very different greens.”

Palamedes laughed and turned away from the book in front of him. “No no, they are literally emeralds that happen to be the color of green tea.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “She has literal emeralds and rubies embedded on her face. Keep up Cam!”

Camilla chuckled. “I have heard strange things about the Third.” She kicked her legs behind her. They were both laying on the bed on their stomachs, taking turns reading this monstrosity of a novel.

He rolled his eyes. “May I return to this very well written book?”

“Of course,” Camilla said flatly. “It has such a well plotted out story, after all. I can’t wait to find out which of the beautiful suitors our plucky protagonist will choose.”

Palamedes made a show of clearing his throat before speaking again. “As green as delicate Rhodian tea, full of clever schemes. But she could see kindness and honesty there as well. The dark-haired noblewoman’s verdurous orbs spoke of an insecurity that drove her schemes. There was desire there as well.”

”Wow, her eyes have a lot of things in them. Maybe she should see someone about that.”

”Hush you.” He continued, barely containing his giggle. “The desire in Lucina matched that of the thin necromancer. They gazed into each other's eyes—weren’t they just doing that already?— and Lady Trace took Lucina’s hand in her own. ‘You shouldn’t wander so much. You never know who might take advantage.’ Lucina’s heart skipped a beat—“

”Someone get this girl to a doctor.” Camilla added, adding a mark to a column in the notebook in front of her. The column was labeled ‘heartbeat skips’ and there were dozens of marks.

“Yes, this tachycardia is getting concerning. Lady Trace leaned down until Lucina could feel her breath. Her lips looked so soft—odd for rubies to be soft.” Camilla laughed and Palamedes continued, his smile wide. “Lucina was sick of being a good girl and following the rules. She threw caution to the wind and pressed her lips against the green-eyed lady. As soon as their lips touched, Lady Trace took over, pulling Lucina tight against her, opening her mouth as if she meant to devour the smaller woman.”

Palamedes faltered slightly and he glanced at Camilla out of the corner of his eye. She was looking down at her notebook. “Their tongues battled for dominance, sliding past each other in an intricate dance. Lucina m-moaned into Lady Trace’s mouth and could feel hands twisting in her loose hair. After what felt like a thousand years, they pulled apart, gasping. But they didn’t go far, as Lady Trace began to kiss down Lucina’s n-neck.”

He could feel his face getting hot but he wasn’t sure why. It was just another silly part of this nonsensical novel. Maybe he was just surprised that there was a kiss this passionate. He had thought that this novel wasn’t pornographic, but he wasn’t entirely sure now. He imagined reading a love scene out loud to Camilla and his flush grew hotter.

It would be suspicious if he stopped now. “Um, okay. ‘I won’t let any silly traditions get between us. We belong together,’ Lady Trace whispered into her ear. She bit—oh. Um, she bit down on Lucina’s neck a-and—“

A beep sounded from Camilla’s clockwork and Palamedes almost jumped in surprise.

“Lunch.” Camilla stood up, turning away from him. “It’s time to eat lunch.”

Palamedes closed the book. “Yes. Food.”

She glanced back at him and he was almost certain that she was blushing too.

[halt-kun]

Hunter x Hunter Chapter 408 - Negotiations (2)

Are we going to finish the parent-child game this chapter ? Most likely. Will it be stopped by the troupe ? I don't think yet

GUNGI FLASHBACK

STOP IT TOGASHI

I would have done the same hahahah

HAHAHAHA

nice going, ignoring Morena

No surprise here, nobody acknowledges her questions

Spill the tea Morena, what's your purpose (killing everyone)

WE KNEW THAT

also Borksen is smart we know that

they judge using not words but demeanor and expressions and other tells

sooo fun

FIRE REVELATION

with a bland face too

so not from the royal family, not fit to lead a mafia

and I guess, her parent got killed during a festival because they looked funny at someone

So, they're all festival children

and as "meat" I guess we're talking about prostitution (even worse considering her age)

Are they all bastards then ?

Borksen really picked up on something, did Tse do something awful ?

That would not be surprising

OKAY WHICH CARD

WAIT, Morena is not asking anything ? Did I misunderstand the game ????

will just the final card count for Borksen ?

THE power card would also be my choice

MORENA ??? BLUSHING ????

This did feel like a date before, buit it's getting worse

ignore the bodyguards tho

Yes it's a nice summary Borksen

I always love when smart character learn about nen

To be honest, I assume I would be a conjurer and most likely would end up wanting a symbiotic and parasitic ability (of course, it depends if it would be for me irl or as a hxh character). But using other to develop nen and account for how their personality would affect the development of an ability and sharing nen with other always seemed nice to me. I wanted that and wrote something down before the succ war was out and we learnt about all these new types of category.

MY HATSU IS COMMUNISM

SMART Morena

really hinting that you must want to kill to awaken your abilities

Borksen will pick up on that quick

and it's also a nice way to sell yourself Morena

Yes Morena is a smart manipulator

and is Borksen the one thinking that ? Or is she just thinking that once Kakin is destroyed, "children" goals won't matter to them ?

Or is she just saying she doesn't care about Kakin as long as she fullfills her goal ?

BORKSEN FOR THE WIN

PLEASE TOGASHI

let all the smart women make it out of there thanks to their brain

Theta and Borksen first

also, I agree with Borksen

actually comitting murder is way out of what everyone wants, just a tranquil life without making too much waves is fine

and just be happy

think about the great thinker and dictator Diego : "life is complete with the sun, land and poetry".

I really hate specialists being "very rare"

but anyway

Borksen rules

She's a smart woman and she's going to go places

OH FUCK

I'll theory craft for ages with this

this also means that there is about 3 to 4 specialists in my 11000 inhabitants hometown

and about 50 in my current one

indeed it's not much

Enhancers are the most common with a bit above 1/4 people

then emitters with a bit less

Transmutation is 1 in 5

and Conjuration and Manipulation are 1/7

Most people on the usual quizzes end up with manipulation, conjuration or specialization

it's fun seeing how Hisoka's personality is a bit fucked, of course he must have nuances about it.

Also we did learn from the exhibit that people aren't always purely from one category

this is fun

Nice way to say : "we'll kill you where you stand if you don't come with us"

NICE BORKSEN

very nice

give me ideas Morena

because specialization is the most annoying one

like finding something not already covered by the other 5.

And Dogman met Chrollo, funnily enough, the troupe could team up with the Heil-yi

and Chrollo is bound to have an ability they seek

but also, it's a bad idea to go around and announce people you know their nen type

I HATE THAT

it means, they aren't bound by traditional limitations

and does it mean emperor time is just average specialist power ?????

that's dumb

like EMPEROR TIME

It would be fine if it just meant, most specialist have just a unique skillset. Like some are better at enhancement, others at transmutation and manipulation

Yes Morena, kinda like the seen urn

but parasitic nen also feeds on aura from different categories so it's different

but indeed, Morena grants an ability to her members in a sense, it's not "them" that awaken it through "skills" developed

YESSSS ?????

WE KILL YOU

is what hapopens next

also Borksen is so smart, everyone wants her to join their little killing gang

YES it's a trap where they kill you if you don't say yess

HIGH RISK? BIG NEN REWARDS MY GIRL

PLEASE TOGASHI MAKE BORKSEN A BEAST AND THEN MAKE HER DEFEAT TSE WITH THETA AND KURAPIKA

and everyone is happy and fine and this always how HxH was and nothing bad ever happened

YES INDEED

HAHAHAHA

well next week Borksen survived and joins the Heil-yi before the soldiers find them I guess

when will the troupe find them tho ???

Very fun chapter

I love when women just chat about potentially dying but it's actually a death game and they're just smartly strategizing to trap the other one

TWO WEEKS LEFT

untill the usual next hiatus

UNLESS ?????

[wisheduponastar]

Confessions over breakfast (691 words, M/M)

For Day 26 of @danganronpashipmonths Saioma month. Inspired by the prompt : Fake Dating

Shuichi isn't sure why he signed up to Danganronpa : Salmon Mode. But he has been enjoying his time here, even if it's only because of a certain someone. And after he's barely awake, that certain special someone brings Shuichi breakfast.

Read on Ao3 or below

Shuichi still regretted signing up for… whatever he had signed up for. In fact, had he even signed up for ‘Danganronpa - Salmon mode’? He honestly couldn’t remember doing so, and it wasn’t exactly like Monokuma was a trustworthy source of information. Especially considering how odd the bear was… and how he seemed to defy all technological common sense. Even the Ultimate Inventor seemed surprised by his existence.

But this place hadn’t been too bad, so far. People had actually started to make friends. It was fairly obvious that Kaito and Maki liked each other, even if they didn’t exactly admit it. Other people had made friends as well, Miu and Keebo had been hanging out together - and he had actually found friends in this place as well; Kaede and Kokichi. Although, of everyone, he’d certainly been with Kokichi the most - out of everyone at least. They’d had a tea party together, played rock-paper-scissors for almost an hour, and Kokichi had even stabbed himself (maybe accidentally).

So when there was a sudden knock on his door, Shuichi could immediately tell who it was. Straightening up slightly, Shuichi called out, “Come in, Kokichi.”

“What if I’m not Kokichi?” the person at the door called out, before opening it. It was Kokichi, of course, with a large grin on his face and food in hand, “How d’you always guess it’s me?”

“You knock… very uniquely.”

“Aww, you pay that much attention to me?” Kokichi waltzed over, placing down the tray of food and then sitting on Shuichi’s bed, legs dangling off it, “I’m flattered.”

“It-it’s not that.” Shuichi said, averting his eyes slightly as he looked towards the desk instead. The tray Kokichi had brought up was surprisingly packed, with quite a bit of variety. Some more healthy breakfast options with yoghurt and granola, even some fresh fruit, and then also pancakes - and more traditional japanese cuisine.

“I suppose you memorising my knock is a detective thing as well as a obsessive lover thing,” Kokichi mused, “Kirumi made everything, by the way.”

“She did?”

“Well, I prepared the yoghurt and granola.” Kokichi suddenly pouted, “Apparently cause of the knife game, I’m not allowed around knives anymore.”

Shuichi let his eyes wander slightly to the finger Kokichi cut himself on, remembering the fear he felt when Kokichi cut himself. “Maybe it’s for the best?”

“Nuh-uh. Noooo way,” Kokichi darted up suddenly, taking some fruit before sitting back down, “Will you steal a knife for me Shuichi?”

“Absolutely not.”

“My beloved won’t even do it for me?” Kokichi’s eyes began to mist with tears, “Waahhhhh! You’re all so horrible!”

“Have a pancake.” Shuichi offered, holding out the plate and smiling as Kokichi immediately stopped crying - instead reaching out to grab a pancake and devour it. For a few minutes, the two ate in silence - companionable silence.

Eventually, Kokichi broke it, calling out, “Shuichi, can you pass me my juice?”

“Can’t you get it yourself?”

“I’m comfyyyyy.” Kokichi leaned back slightly more, as if to emphasise the point, “Besides, it’s what good house-husbands do.”

“House-husband?”

“Well, I can’t be the house-husband,” Kokichi sounded scandalised, “I’m too busy running the world, y’know.”

“So that means I have to be a house-husband why?”

“Well, you don’t have to be a house-husband…” Kokichi was looking at Shuichi from the corner of his eye now, “As long as I have you, I’m pretty much satisfied.”

“I-” Shuichi tried to convince himself the reason he couldn’t speak was because of the piece of pancake he’d just inhaled, not because of the fact he was incredibly red, “-Thank you, Kokichi.”

“Thank you?” Kokichi echoed, “Y’know, I thought you’d react stronger to my confession.”

This time, Shuichi really did choke on a piece of breakfast, his face also turning incredibly red as he forced out, “W-Wait - that was a confession? As in… you really like me?”

“Well, duh.” Kokichi had sat up now, “Weeeell, d’you like me back?”

“I,” Shuichi stopped for a second, it was odd because he hadn’t really thought about it - but he immediately knew the answer. His heart immediately knew the answer. “Of course - of course Kokichi. I like you.”

[sitp-recs]

hi friend! you have the best recs so I wanted to reach out. I feel like this is both a pretty simple request yet somehow also uber specific?? if it's too specific that's totally OK and you can disregard. I'm just having trouble sifting thru matches on AO3 and trust your judgment!

in major need of T-rated (or not-super-smutty M) fics between 5-50k, preferably ones set while the characters are in their 20s (early, mid, and late 20s all work) with plenty of fluff/nothing too heavy emotionally.

anything you can offer would be so appreciated!!

Hi there! This was a bit challenging because I’m more familiar with angst than fluff 😅 I hope these work for you! They’re all T-rated, except for Astolat’s:

The Interest Here by disapparater (9k)

Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.

honey milk tea by @softlystarstruck (14k)

When Draco runs into Harry at his favorite boba tea shop and gets so flustered he orders the exact same thing, he has no idea how quickly his life is going to change.

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Heartlines by @sorrybutblog (22k)

Just as Draco Malfoy's life seems to be getting back on track, the magic at Malfoy Manor is spinning out of control. Auror partners Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson are assigned to the case and quickly find that nothing about the situation is obvious.

House Proud by astolat (M, 23k)

His house liked Draco Malfoy more than him.

Safe As Houses by @xanthippe74 (24k)

After five years abroad, Harry’s thrilled to be home and working at the most prestigious ward-building firm in Britain. But everything gets turned upside down when he's assigned to work for Draco Malfoy—who somehow grew up to be just the sort of sexy bastard Harry goes for.

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Choosing to lead it in Muggle Brixton comes with its own set of challenges, including Malfoys in the biscuit aisle.

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (29k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?

Follow the Water by xanthippe74 (38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

I'll Floo Home for Christmas by jadepresley (39k)

The Ministry Christmas party is the biggest event of the year and Harry absolutely does not want to plan it, and he certainly, one hundred percent, does not have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

Witch Weekly's Most Eligible by @gallifrey1sburning (54k)

The first few times, it was kind of funny. After a while, however, it started to get a bit depressing. By the tenth time Harry won Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, it was downright humiliating. But even that wouldn’t have been enough to get him to agree to Pansy Parkinson’s scheme to put him on a wizarding dating show—at least, not without the additions of a tearfully earnest Molly Weasley and one too many glasses of champagne.

[the-romantic-lady]

Sorry for the spam but I just had a thought. We know which person likes to brief People Magazine so what if she is leaking that thinking that no tiaras for all royals since she was given an invitation with no tiara. What if this is good news in disguise and Harold’s wife won’t get a tiara but others will?

Well, according to some tea shared here on Tumblr (which was obtained by two different sources, apparently), the dress code is a morning dress and suit, so no tiaras (unless it’s changed for the royals). Ugh, but even if the royals wear tiaras, the ceremony will be boring (I wanted to see people with their best gowns)

I’m honestly with my expectations very low, because even if was MM leaking to people magazine , that wasn’t the first report about wearing tiaras or not, there was another one of how is M’s right to wear one 😭 so, perhaps she is campaigning for one because she was told no tiaras, as you’ve said, perhaps she believes all the royals won’t wear one, but there is a possibility that the King definetely had opted for no pomp. The best solution would be only working royals, but I honestly doubt it, the RF has an ability to use things when that suits them, one day they are saying how this monarchy will be about working royals not ranks and the other day they are doing the opposite, so if they go with the second option (rank above working royals) then, there is no way the wife of the second King’s son won’t wear a tiara

If they go for the State Opening dress code which I think is the direction they are going in then I am not too fussed about the tiaras. The peeresses and royals in the procession will wear tiaras and they have the best ones. But the main problem are the robes. Peeresses wont be in their beautiful crimson robes. No coronets is the death of long-standing tradition. I don’t know what Charles is doing but I am not a fan.

Also those invitations do not demonstrate what the royal family will wear. I am just so disappointed.

[bodhrancomedy]

Tocktick Extract: (Shh Spoilers)

The roar of the crowd made Sixsmith look up from his work.

From this distance, it sounded closer to a wave crashing against the surf than voices, and he suddenly had a strange fancy that beyond the thick canvas of the medicine tent the world had sunk into the ocean. His lungs still felt clogged with anxiety, the last conversation with Emmett ringing in his ears like the aftermath of an explosion. He was still drowning slowly.

Sixsmith shook his head to clear it, earning a concerned glance from Godwin at his elbow, and turned his attention back to checking Kizzy’s temperature. It was still low, but not worryingly so, so he put the thermometer aside and gave her a comforting pat on the head.

“Where’s Da?” Kizzy, smothered in blankets, looked up at him with an unfocused gaze, paper-white face almost glowing against the cloth. Her mangled hand hung over the side of the cot, the bandages rust-red.

“He’s at the ceremony,” Sixsmith spoke as gently as he could, trying not to look at where her fingers used to be, “He’ll be back soon, creature. Bloody Throgmorton an’ his traditions.”

“How soon?”

“I dunno. How ‘bouts you get some sleep, eh?” Sixsmith smoothed out the top blanket and added, “D’you want somethin’ to drink?”

Kizzy appeared to consider this. “I want me fingers back.”

“I know. I know, sweetheart.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and her next words were more of a wail, “They were my fingers and I want them back!”

“Shh,” Sixsmith perched hurriedly on the edge of the bed, gathering up the sobbing youth – blankets and all – and hugged her as close as he dared. “It’s alright, Kiz. It’s alright.”

Godwin lent in and gently extracted the thermometer from the danger area and solemnly signed, “I’ll leave you alone. Make some tea for both of you.”

Sixsmith forced a smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Nodding sadly, Godwin patted his hand and disappeared behind the heavy dividing curtain. Sixsmith waited until he heard the rush of sudden life of a pot-fire before he looked back at Kizzy.

She buried her face against his chest and whispered, “I’m never gonna be able to climb again, am I?”

“Dun’t be ridiculous,” the words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. Kizzy stared up at him, mouth falling open, tears wet on her cheeks. Sixsmith coughed and hastily pulled his thoughts together. “Listen, Kiz. What happened – it’s terrifyin’. I know. An’ I know right now everythin’ seems – well, hopeless, right? But it’s not. It’s not gonna be, darlin’. ‘Cause, ‘cause who do we know, eh? Eh?”

“I dunno…?”

“Talas an’ Maia! Dun’t we? They build pros-thet-ics, dun’t they? I bet –“ he ruffled her hair, managing to elicited something close to a giggle –“they’d be able to build you a proper new hand. I’d bet they could even make one that’d help you do a’ sorts of fancy tricks.”

Kizzy licked her lips and sniffed. “But I dun’t want a new one. I want me old one.”

“I know. I want my old hand too.”

“What…?”

Sixsmith held up his left hand. It trembled, his fingers barely curling. “When I woke up,” he began quietly, “I couldn’t walk an’ I couldn’t speak. I… I thought I was goin’ to die. ‘m not sure I’ve bin that scared in my whole life. For months, a’ I could think was I want my old body back. You’re supposed to grieve, Kiz. You’re allowed to. But I wasn’t dead an’ ‘m not dead an’ neither are you. You’re alive an’ you’re so smart an’… you can do this, Kiz. If you want to. An’ we’ll be with you, alright?”

Rubbing her nose, Kizzy muttered, “But I’m scared.”

“So was I. We…” Sixsmith kissed the top of her head and took a deep breath. “We’ll figure somethin’ out, creature. We always do.”

Kizzy nodded and wiggled closer, her bony elbows digging into his side. Sixsmith didn’t move, didn’t mind.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. In the next room, the water began to boil.

It was a faint sound, just on the edge of hearing, that made Sixsmith glance up.

A sigh and then a dull thud.

The hair on his neck rose, adrenaline surging through his blood.

“Wha –“

Sixsmith put his finger to his lips and slowly got up, grasping for his pistol. Heart thumping, he whispered, “Get under the bed.”

“But –“

“Now, Keziah.”

Someone was moving behind the curtain; he could hear footsteps and the hiss of steam. He took a step forwards, clutching the weapon tightly, every instinct screaming. He reached out, fingers brushing the cloth…

Carter ripped aside the curtain, blood splattered across his face. He grinned, raising his knife –

Sixsmith fired.

The empty click was thunder-loud. He pumped the trigger two more times, terror threading up his bones.

Carter laughed. “Wet powder?” he inquired. His smile grew broader and he took another step towards Sixsmith, head scraping the roof of the tent. “Now what, Doc?”

“Well…” Sixsmith glanced down at the gun then up at Carter. “Well, uh –“

Then he threw the pistol as hard as he could at the man’s face.

It struck Carter right between the eyes, sending him staggering. Sixsmith seized a blanket from the bed and went after him, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

No chance, maybe some time.

“Kizzy, run!”

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on Ao3

Rated M

Having a full day’s rest and doing little to no strenuous activity had done the trick. Satoru was feeling loads better come the next morning, sitting across from Hannah during breakfast. Makoto hadn’t even finished setting the table when the jujutsu sorcerer began filling his bowl with fried rice and smoked sausages, noticing the funny look his wife was giving him.

“Wha?” he said, stuffing his face with food like a chipmunk. “M‘ungry.”

A small smile tugged on the sides of Hannah’s mouth, though it wasn’t mocking. “I can see that,” she said, scooping some scrambled eggs into her bowl. “Suppose this means your headache is gone?”

Satoru caught Makoto’s warning glare as she came back with a pot of coffee, her cautionary way of reminding him to behave like a gentleman, and so as not to incur the housekeeper's wrath, Satoru wisely chose to swallow his food before speaking. “Yeah,” he reached for the sugar bowl as Makoto poured the coffee into his mug. “It’s gone”

Hannah’s face relaxed. “Good,” she lightly exhaled, pinching some fried rice between her chopsticks and bringing it to her lips. “I’m glad.”

Satoru took another bite. “And you?” he asked. “Have you got everything…situated?”

She flicked her eyes to meet his for a brief instant, casting them back down on her food. “Almost. I sorted through some of the clothes yesterday, but it’s going to take me a while.”

“Thought so,” he sighed, propping his cheek in his hand, twirling his chopsticks. “I don’t really know what women like, so most of it was just guess work on my part.”

Hannah looked up at him. He couldn't honestly expect her to believe that, could he? Makoto said everything stored within that closet hadn’t been put there without his approval. Given the fabric selection alone, Satoru’s attention to detail was too educated for him “not to know” what women liked. And the notes he stipulated in the sketchbooks gave his secret away: “Remove the sleeves.” “Velvet, not satin.” “Does it come in red?” Hannah thought he’d make a better stylist, maybe even a better designer, than a jujutsu sorcerer.

“I like the clothes,” she finally said, taking a sip of tea. “You have a good eye.”

All she heard from across the table was a soft snort; the closest she’d get to a “thank you.”

For the remainder of breakfast, the two newlyweds ate together in awkward silence, listening to the ticking of the cuckoo clock situated on a wooden dresser, and the crinkling tatami as Makoto cruised in and out of the kitchen with either dirty dishes or another pot of coffee for Satoru.

Growing quite uncomfortable by the silence herself, Makoto cleared her throat and turned to Hannah. “Ma’am, with the young master feeling unwell, it seems I forgot to discuss something important with you the other day.”

Hannah finished chewing and brought a napkin to her mouth. “Oh? Like what?”

Makoto looked at Satoru before looking back at her mistress. “As you are aware, the young master has informed me of your caffeine intolerance, but I’m afraid that’s all I know. And being the lady of the house, it technically falls upon you to choose the meals we eat.”

“Me?” Hannah’s eyes flitted shyly to Satoru. “Are you sure?”

The white-haired sorcerer nodded and jabbed a lazy thumb at Makoto. “I’ll eat whatever she puts in front of me, so go ahead.”

“Alright,” Hannah folded her napkin on her lap and redirected her attention to the housekeeper, “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Anything your heart desires,” replied Makoto like it was no trouble. “The young master prefers I cook traditional meals, but I was thinking I might begin incorporating more English cuisine. Just curious, but how would you feel about kedgeree?”

“Kedgeree?” Hannah’s entire face visibly brightened. “Really?”

Makoto stood proudly, eyes shining. “I did say anything, no?”

Satoru raised his hand like a confused algebra student. “What the heck is kadgeree?”

“Ked-geree,” Hannah corrected, trying not to look too amused by his pronunciation. “It’s a breakfast casserole made with rice, shredded smoked fish, and soft boiled eggs topped with spices.”

“So it’s good, is what you’re saying?”

Hannah didn't hold back her smile this time as hazel brown meshed with turquoise blue. “I’d like to think so, yes.” Although she omitted how she only ate the Indo-English casserole when she was staying at Wasserton, breakfast being the one meal where it was appropriate for an illegitimate to dine with their family (except when they were entertaining.) Lunch and dinner were more formal affairs, and so Hannah usually ate her afternoon meals in the servants’ quarters together with the housestaff, but kedgeree had always been her favorite. “We should try it sometime.”

Satoru hummed as though mulling it over, and went back to taking another bite of food. Smoked fish and rice did sound rather appetizing. Makoto turned to her mistress again.

“I’ll write a new menu each week for you to review, and be sure to include descriptions, if that helps any?”

Hannah nodded and offered her gratitude, while the housekeeper took her empty bowl off the table and headed for the kitchen. Satoru gobbled the last of his sausage and hastily swilled his coffee in such a way that made Hannah’s throat burn. He rose from the table and stretched.

“Oh-kay,” he groaned, reaching for the ceiling till he heard various bones separate and pop. “Ugh. Ready to go?”

Hannah winced from the crackling bones. “Go?” she said. “Go where?”

Satoru rolled his eyes, and searched his pockets for his sunglasses. “Training in the heat of the day is a real pain in the ass. Best to do it now while it’s still early.”

“Training?” The food in Hannah’s stomach sank like stones. “You’re serious?”

Satoru said nothing and placed the sunglasses on his nose, giving her a devilish smile. “Serious as a heart attack, Princess.” His head cocked to the door. “Hop to it. We’re killing daylight.”

And just like that.

The next three weeks would become quite the undertaking for Hannah. Like a baptism through fire, her days were spent balancing the many tasks required of a jujutsu sorcerer’s wife. There was no set routine, or light workload. Each day presented a new lesson in need of quick learning.

During that first day of training, Satoru had her running cardio through the mountainous terrain and the higher altitude had Hannah so out of breath, the poor girl thought she would faint. Her feeble legs were shaking from having to propel herself up the steep inclines, Satoru barking closely at her heels. “Sheesh, you’re a turtle,” he jeered from behind. “I know little old ladies with asthma faster than you.” Hannah pretended not to hear him and kept her eyes on the dirt road, panting heavily until they stopped for a short break before continuing onwards.

Some unlucky days he had her jogging with weights lodged in her hands, or tied snugly around her waist like a counterpoise, “for strength conditioning,” as he often put it. Those were the mornings Hannah wanted to fall to the ground and tap out, but Satoru wouldn't let her. “Ah, ah, ah,” he would tut, wagging an admonitory finger. “I thought this was part of our agreement; No training, no Sukuna fingers.” Then her motivation was restored when he added, “You want to save those people, right?” and she would somehow find the energy to finish the mile.

After two full laps around the school, Satoru had her doing push-ups, three sets with 15 reps each, but would only count the ones where her nose touched the ground or else force her to start over. He applied the same rule for sit-ups, demanding she lift herself all the way before starting another. Several failed push-ups and sit-ups later Hannah was sure she’d be sick. She struggled similarly with the lunges, the squats, the jumping jacks. His rationale for the grueling cardio was twofold; endurance training and increasing her muscle mass. “Gotta whip ya into shape before I teach you how to land a decent punch.”

Following that tortious first week, it quickly became apparent that the Six Eyes wielder was missing a few marbles.

Hannah remembered one infamous morning when the white-haired sorcerer somehow managed to sneak inside her bedroom and thought it would be fun to dunk an entire bucket of ice water on her, all because she unknowingly slept past her alarm on accident. Suffice it to say, the little woman was not happy.

“Are you crazy?!’ she cried as she leapt from her futon, wrapping her thin arms around herself to regain whatever warmth she could.

Satoru let out a low chuckle. “Maybe,” and squatted down to show her an innocent, closed-eyed smile. “You wouldn't wake up, so I did it for you. Aren’t I nice?”

Hannah glowered menacingly. “Quite,” she said, shivering from the cold. She looked down at the tin bucket he was holding. Her teeth chattered. “May I ask how y-you got in here?”

The sorcerer gave his usual shrug. “Through the door, obviously.” His smile widened as her glare deepened. “You let me in.”

Her eyes widened. “What? N-No I didn’t.”

“Yeah you did,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “I asked if I could come inside and you said ‘yes.’”

This was met with more scrutiny. “I don’t believe you,” Hannah insisted, rubbing her arms. “Makoto said no one d-dead or alive would be able to enter. You must’ve done something to break the seal.”

His smug grin smoothly faded. Glacial blue eyes lingered on her for a frosty moment and Hannah could do nothing except hold her breath as his Six Eyes beckoned closer; nacreous, spell-binding, otherworldly. He was seeing something her eyes could not, but what?

“I’ll be waiting outside,” he replied, rising slowly from the floor. “Eat your breakfast and come out,” and then she watched him vacate the bedroom, empty bucket in tow, like it never even happened.

Hannah blinked once, twice, a third time.

Forget marbles. Gojo Satoru was undoubtedly the strangest, yet aggravating, person she’d ever met, not only in appearance, but in character.

For one, the man never stopped talking, ever, constantly transitioning from one random topic to the next. One moment they would be discussing modern architecture, and then on a whim they were debating whether Hi-Chews tasted better than Kororo gummies (Hannah couldn’t say), followed by an interesting fact he recently learned about blue-ringed octopuses and how they were no bigger than a golf ball and packed enough venom to kill at least 26 people, “and if they bite you, you’re basically screwed because there’s no antivenom.” He also denied being a picky eater, but Hannah noticed how he would avoid sansho and wasabi like the plague. She made a mental note that he didn’t enjoy spicy foods as much as she did.

Satoru was definitely not a morning person and was normally the last to arrive for breakfast — Actually, he was last to arrive for just about everything with a designated time — Although he was probably the fastest speed reader on the planet coupled with a photographic memory, which Hannah discovered one morning while waiting for him at the dining table. She was immersed in a Bible passage, enjoying a fresh cup of chamomile tea, when out of nowhere Satoru swiped the RNJB straight from her hands and demanded she reveal what it was. When she told him, his expression soured. “No way, this is it?” he flipped it open, “I thought it would be bigger,” and then he took the holy book, beginning to end, and permitted the pages to cascade through his fingers like a large stack of playing cards. Hannah watched his blue eyes shift rapidly from side to side, the paper awash in a blur as he neared the Book of Revelation. Wait a minute, was he actually reading that? No one could read that fast.

“Wanna make a bet?” he challenged when Hannah unconsciously spoke this out loud. He closed the Bible shut. “Quiz me then. Ask me something only a person who bothered to read this thing would know.”

And quiz him she did. Hannah asked the hardest thought questions her scrappy little brain could muster; “What items were stored in the Ark of the Covenant?” “Who replaced Judas Escariot after the Ascension?” “What was the name of Adam and Eve’s third son?” To her immense frustration, Satoru answered every question she hurled at him like a reputable scholar, quoting the exact Bible verse and chapter, verbatim, just to rub it in her face.

“But…But that’s impossible,” she floundered once she could think of nothing else. “It takes decades to study on that level. Surely you’ve read it before.”

Satoru had to force down a smile as he handed her back the Bible. “Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather have my eyes gouged than read that crap again,” and finally sat down to pour himself a mug of sugary coffee.

His words were a saber. Hannah attempted to mask her hurt as she kneeled to join him. While Satoru probably meant nothing by it, he had a habit of being brutally honest to the point of sounding cruel. She didn’t share that same perview when it came to his beliefs, but then of course, their personalities were basically night and day. She wondered if anyone knew how devoted he was to Buddhist meditation.

As the young wife confided in the ceiling one night, frustrated at how hopeless it was to fall asleep, her nose recognized the pleasant aroma of charred sandalwood and benzoin, the smell of burning incense. She checked her watch for the hour, 2:43 am, and sneakily cracked open her door to investigate. Having to squint as she crept along the dimly lit hallway, she saw a room glowing a tad brighter than the others and recognized it was the parlor hosting the Buddhist altar where the Gojo ancestors were commemorated next to the kamidana. Tiptoeing ever closer, she peeked around the corner to see Satoru sitting upright in the Lotus Position, eyes closed, legs folded as he softly chanted the mantra, “namu amida butsu,” over and over again in a hypnotic rhythm, a thread of prayer beads looped inside one palm. She observed him like that for a few minutes, the lanterns illuminating his broad physique and white hair like a sunset on untouched snow, a crystal Buddha. Even when he wore a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, she was arrested by his beauty. A few minutes passed. Then, like a flower petal floating in the wind, she quietly made the journey back to her room, settled into her futon, and fell asleep to the words, “namu amida butsu,” in her head. She would repeat this early morning ritual more than a few times, knowing her husband would likely be awake during the hour, meditating. He hadn’t caught her in the act thus far. Fingers crossed.

When Satoru wasn’t around for her to stalk, Hannah’s main priority was familiarizing herself with the estate; going over finances, responding to congratulatory letters, and memorizing long family histories under the sagely council of Makoto. She learned that much of the Gojo’s wealth came primarily from stock market exchanges, buying low, selling high. However, for several generations, the Gojo clan was one of the top sumo wrestling profiteers in the nation, training the winningest fighters across the land, but a bitter dispute against a rivaling family changed everything and the Gojo’s were pressured to sell their livelihood before making it big in the timber industry. The career change paid off. Sumo steadily went on the decline, but the Gojo family did not. Hannah discovered there was not one, but four additional properties tied to the Gojo name; an opulent townhouse which used to be the main Gojo estate in Kyoto, a tobacco merchant’s home in Osaka, a minka farmhouse in Gokayama, and a beachside cottage overlooking the Pacific on one of the Kyushu islands. As the current figurehead of the family, Satoru chose to live in the Tokyo residence, the newly appointed crown jewel of the family, which to Hannah’s surprise encompassed not only a tea garden, but fourteen acres of strolling gardens with huge sections of graveled karesansui framed around a ginormous lake.

Each week, a team of gardeners would mow the grass, trim the hedges, and sweep dead foliage off the stepped-stoned path, connecting the physical realm with the spiritual. The raked gravel could symbolize the vast open sea, while a rock, smooth or jagged, could be a towering mountain, a sleeping tortoise, or a crouching tiger. Hannah knew that to enter the Japanese garden required “mindful abandon.” To humble oneself to the elements.

There was nothing she found more humbling than watching gasps of koi swim underneath a red soribashi bridge that adjoined a small island where a traditional teahouse lay hidden, or feeding fresh grapes to the mallard ducks grazing peacefully beside a raft of water lilies, splashing their tail feathers and diving their bottle-green heads into the murky water below. The strolling gardens were a horticulturist’s dream come true. They had everything; dogwoods, cherry blossoms, Japanese maple, black pines. A Chinese orangery cultivared in succulent mandarins and apricots that would be plucked from their boughs come summertime. Trimmed bushels of rhododendrons and azaleas and miniature wisteria trees. Hannah loved the stone lanterns sculpted to look as though they were donning wide-brimmed hats, and would close her eyes and listen to the bamboo chimes sway gently in the breeze, the trickling of the waterfall, and take in the sweet, sweet perfume of wild lemongrass. For years to come this garden would be her sanctuary, her safe space. Her nightmares couldn’t haunt her here. She could be content, safe from the night terrors.

Jujutsu High was once part of the Tokyo estate, until Satoru’s great grandfather donated the land to build a jujutsu school on par with that of Kyoto. By affiliation, this made Hannah an honorary member of the educational board, and by the end of the month she attended her first meeting on Satoru’s behalf. She didn’t have to talk too much - thank God - except introduce herself and take a seat, but the elders in the room made for an unpleasant welcome, eyeing her coldly and whispering in each other’s ears before the proceedings began. Were these the higher-ups Satoru warned her about, she thought. If so, what would they have to ridicule? She hadn’t done anything inappropriate or spoken out of turn. Makoto even dressed her in kimono, a seafoam houmongi with pearlescent butterflies stitched at the bottom.

Unless required to leave school premises, which was strictly reserved for Sunday mass, Hannah started wearing kimono on a regular basis. Every morning, after her training sessions with Satoru and a warm bath, Makoto would instruct her young mistress how to wrap the nagajuban and kimono just right so the ground wouldn't dirty the skirt, and how to tie an obi into a “drum knot,” and how to walk in zori sandals without twisting an ankle. She would also delegate to her which color combinations were best suited for each season and which combinations were to be avoided. With enough practice, Hannah was soon able to dress herself without help.

“Woah,” said Satoru when she stepped out wearing a blue striped komon, accentuated by a navy sash covered in daisies.

Hannah was startled to see him standing in the hallway and froze. “Does it look alright?” she asked nervously, giving the kimono a once over. “I can change into something else if you want.”

A furtive blush dappled his cheeks. “No,” he hastened his eyes to the floor. “You look goo — er — nice,” the sorcerer cleared his throat, “You look nice.”

Makoto also began straightening Hannah’s hair using a special heating technique called “thermal reconditioning.” Hannah had to sit very still as the housekeeper mixed, worked, and washed the straightening solution from her hair, then flatten it several times with a hot iron to permanently break down the keratin structure, leaving the auburn strands glossy smooth. The time consuming process would need to be repeated again in six months, but Hannah didn’t mind listening to Makoto relay stories of her past while she maneuvered behind the mirror.

“When I was first hired as one of the nannies, the young master was no taller than a boxwood shrub,” she chuckled, running the hot iron through Hannah’s hair. “Used to follow me everywhere I went, begging for sweets, making me laugh. I was the only servant he liked so it seemed, though I couldn’t tell you why. He was prone to all sorts of mischief at that age.” She shook her head. “Some things never change.”

Hannah suddenly looked up at both their reflections. “The only servant? There were more?”

The housekeeper halted her ironing. “For a time, yes,” she replied, holding a lock of warmly pressed hair. “But when the young master became clan leader, he sent most of them away.”

“Except you?”

Makoto glanced at her mistress through the mirror and smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” she said modestly. “Except me.” The housekeeper carefully switched the hot iron for a fine-toothed comb. “Now, let’s finish straightening this long hair of yours. I think I’ll want to tweak your eyebrows too while I’m at it. They’re looking a bit uneven.”

Upon putting the finishing touches to her hair and perfecting her eyebrows, Makoto also placed Hannah on a strict skincare regimen that she was to uphold morning, noon, and night, on top of learning how to curl her eyelashes, apply foundation with a kabuki brush, and color her lips. By the end, Hannah had to admit that she felt more presentable, but the housekeeper’s beautifying efforts weren't solely for aesthetics. It was important that Hannah master all her faculties in preparation for chanoyu.

As it were, the tea ceremony was no ordinary social event, but the epitome of Japanese culture, where people from all walks of life sat together to participate in a ritual meal and drink tea as equals. For Hannah, hosting a Japanese tea ceremony would become her greatest test; A trial by which the whole of jujutsu society would serve to judge. A successful ceremony would bring honor to her new family. Anything less would bring ruin. She had much to study, but Hannah couldn’t have been given a better teacher.

Like a love-struck poet, Makoto spoke of Japanese tea as though it were a deity, revering the camellia leaves like one would French wine or an expensive Scottish whiskey. How could one person be the housekeeper, the butler, the chef, the maid, the valet, a kimono teacher, a beautician - essentially a Swiss army knife of service and dedication - and now also a tea master? Hannah sat in awed silence as the woman went into grand detail about the history of tea and how it was first brought over to Japan from China, later inspiring the “Land of Wa” to create its own tea ceremony, with its own structure and rules, till Sen no Rikyu emerged in the 16th century and began introducing the idea of wabi-sabi, laying the groundwork for the tea ceremony as it’s practiced today.

Makoto would teach her the subtle nuances between Japanese teas and how to tell them apart by leaf, fragrance, color, and taste. Since most were quite caffeinated, Hannah took tiny sips of each and tried memorizing the mouthfeel, flavor, and sweet umami on her tongue. Makoto had her drink various sencha teas, two seperate culinary and ceremonial grade matcha teas, high quality gyokuro grown in Uji that had been hand picked from the fields, and common bancha teas found in local grocery stores sold around the country. Even though the tea ceremony only used matcha, tasting and differentiating other teas was integral because Hannah would have to select these teas when housing guests.

There were also the tea utensils and how to correctly use them during the actual ceremony. For example, when cleaning a tea scoop, the host was to take a silk cloth, called the fukusa, and fold it into a long triangle, making sure to tug on the ends for a slight “pop,” before turning it vertically on its side and using the circumference of her hand to wrap and fold the cloth into thirds, which was then used to wipe the tea scoop exactly three times. Because her hands shook from nerves, this step became very difficult for Hannah to get right. “Mistakes are a part of life, ma’am,” Makoto would say each time Hannah folded incorrectly and the cloth came undone. “Ganbatte kudasai.”

But sometimes “doing her best” was a hard ask when in the midst of their tea lessons, Satoru would unexpectedly pop in to show off his vastly superior tea-making skills, executing the steps without error. However, during non-tea-ceremonial-related occasions he would randomly appear, looking to satisfy his burning curiosity when his wife was alone.

“So what’s the difference between a Western sorcerer and a jujutsu sorcerer?”

Hannah peered up from Sei Shonagon’s A Pillow Book to see Satoru’s tall frame looming over her, shaded by the old fig tree she was relaxing underneath. Makoto had released her from her tea lessons for the day.

Her head tilted. “What do you mean?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, why are they classified different? Aren’t they the same?”

Hannah folded the corner of the page she was on so she could easily find it again and closed the book, giving him her full, undivided attention. the book, giving him her full, undivided attention. “No, I don’t think so. Jujutsu encompasses a darker type of magic, right?” Satoru affirmed this with a nod as Hannah continued. “And I don’t believe jujutsu sorcerers have ordained exorcists at their disposal either.”

Satoru’s face scrunched in confusion. “Ordained? What, like monks or something?”

He watched the woman lightly bop herself on the temple. “Ah, that’s right,” she laughed dryly. “Shinto and Buddhist priests perform exorcisms too. Though I’m guessing you don’t give them fancy titles like ‘Monsignor’ or ‘The Honorable Reverend.’ I’ve met a few exorcists with those titles.” She lifted her head, looking up at the rustling fig leaves. “I wonder if Fr. O‘Malley is a monsignor and doesn’t want anyone to know, given how unpopular the title is nowadays.”

Satoru lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t know what the heck she was talking about. “You’ll have to ask him — and for the record, not all monastics perform exorcisms,” he sat himself beside her, playfully poking her in the arm, “and you still haven’t answered my initial question, so spill.”

Hannah's face grew warm at the gesture. That was another oddity about Satoru. The man saw no issue getting up close and personal with people, be it stranger or otherwise. They were now bucked shoulder to shoulder. She could smell the incense and coffee on his clothes. “Well, the way I see it,” she began, fiddling with the pages in her book, “there exists two kinds of Western sorcerer; An ordained exorcist, whose primary job is to cast out demonic spirits from a possessed person, and a ‘true sorcerer,’” she made air quotes, “who then uses magic to eradicate those demonic spirits. They also eradicate Curses and — ”

Satoru waved for her to stop. “Wait, wait, wait, I'm lost now. You’re telling me demonic spirits and Curses are different too?”

Drat. Hannah realized her mistake yet again. She had used the Japanese word “yokai” (strange apparition) as her translation for “demonic spirits,” when she should’ve used the more appropriate word “akuma” (devil). It was hard for her to remember all these complex definitions. In Japanese folklore there existed a bevy of supernatural creatures, each with their own unique characteristics and narratives. There were oni, sometimes pronounced “ki,” who were frightening looking ogres with protruding fangs and long horns, often wielding heavy clubs and could be both evil or benevolent depending on the encounter. In early February during Setsubun, one might witness the “cleansing” of these ogres with the throwing of beans and the phrase “Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi” (Oni get out, luck come in). There were also akuma, which were more akin to the Western image of demons; a being that existed within a fiery, evil hellscape. And then there were the most fascinating creatures of all known as yokai.

Anomalous, shape-shifting, and spooky, there was no single way to define yokai. They were believed to be mysterious spirits or monsters that roamed the outskirts of Japan, waiting for an unsuspecting human to accidentally stumble across their path. Stories were told of scaly turtle-like imps (kappa) that lured young children to their ponds before drowning them, or shape-shifting fox spirits (kitsune) who bewitched and possessed people, commonly taking the guise of a beautiful woman, or spiky leafed trees (ninmenju) that sprouted human heads instead of blossoms and bled when cut.

Given the striking similarities, it was an ongoing debate as to whether Curses were separate from yokai, or whether they were ostensibly one in the same. Regardless, such arguments held little sway in the eyes of the West, who harbored its own forgone conclusions about supernatural creatures, especially when discussing angels and demons, who were shapeshifters like yokai, but were strongly divided amongst the forces of good and evil, something yokai and Curses were not — Anywho, the whole thoroughfare was very complex and made for a terribly long conversation, which Satoru gathered from the look on his wife’s face and brushed the question aside.

“Okay, scratch that. So a jujutsu sorcerer is equivalent to a ‘true’ sorcerer, and an ordained exorcist is its own thing? Is that it?”

The seer pressed her lips together. “I suppose. Although there are ordained exorcists who can also wield magic, so the two are often conflated, if that makes sense.”

Satoru grunted, finding her explanation unhelpful. Since Japan outpaced the rest of the world’s sorcerer population by a scale of 9/10, many were convinced that the existence of sorcerers and Curses were strictly Japanese phenomena. In other words, everyone knew about jujutsu sorcerers, more or less, but that couldn’t be said about other populations. Satoru was inquisitive by nature. He didn’t like not being in “the know,” and finally here was someone who could answer questions that long ago would’ve earned him a cold hard slap on the wrist.

That was the thing about Hannah.

To her credit, she wasn’t the spoiled brat he had originally imagined. While she was horrendously shy, lacked self-confidence, and tripped on her own two feet, she was also attentive and sincere and went about her business unobtrusively. She wasn’t fond of loud, overbearing colors and hardly, if ever, asked him for money. She was purposeful when she spoke and was quick to forgive when he pushed his boundaries, like the incident with the ice water, and she didn’t become annoyed when he asked a question. Rather, she engaged with him and listened to what he had to say, even when he knew he was saying the dumbest shit. Something he was slowly coming to appreciate. Truth was, he liked how much she cared.

And this sense of compassion wasn’t exclusive to people. He couldn’t forget the one time she found a gangly-legged huntsman spider lurking in a corner and not knowing what it was at first gave a loud, girlish shriek, prompting Satoru to rush in and squash the said spider, whereby Hannah began to cry, aggrieved that he felt it necessary to maime such a “harmless creature.”

“I didn’t want you to kill it,” she sniffed, wiping her teary eyes. “How would you like it if someone came along and squished you?”

Satoru could only stand there and take it on the chin. Women; Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. But irrespective of her unnatural empathy for creepy-crawlies, he found it a little cute that she was waking in the middle of the night just to spy on him. Silly girl, of course he knew. The Six Eyes saw past everything, even when fully closed, though a part of him didn’t want her to know that for fear it would scare her off. One way or another, that’s normally what happened; people were always afraid. And if it was any consolation, he’d been spying on her too.

Whenever he heard her singing in the bath, Satoru couldn’t resist taking a quick peak, using the Six Eyes to see through the bathroom walls, but kept the erections to a minimum…Well, he tried to anyway. Sometimes when she hit a particular high note and turned to him full frontal, his mind would draw a massive blank and the contracted muscles bundled around his groin would involuntarily relax, allowing blood to flow inside the spongy cavities and take hold. Stretching. Expanding. Oh so good. Unlike the previous times, however, the sensation left him feeling a tad…icky. Hannah wasn’t some no-name porn star he could heedlessly jerk off to and then forget like a used condom, and yet he was treating her no different. If she ever found out, what would she think? What would she say? Probably nothing nice. Despite how things started between them, he wanted her to like him, or at least willingly talk to him. There was so much she didn’t know about everyday life.

Take technology for instance. The woman knew next to nothing about technology. Earlier that month, he’d gifted her a brand new iPhone 6 and not until he saw her lost expression did he understand she had no idea what she’d been given. “I wasn’t permitted to have one,” she said sheepishly, as though attesting to a crime. Satoru spent the duration of that evening hovering over the little woman, teaching her how to open the lock screen, how to dial a phone number, and how to type a text message and search the internet. Still to this day, his wife is unable to text using both thumbs and holds the phone flat in her hand while using her pointer finger to tap on the keyboard, which for a while drove him insane, but he’d eventually make peace with it. Although her knowledge of pop culture was inexcusable.

“C’mon, you’ve had to have seen The Godfather.” he stressed when the subject came up. “You know? The greatest motion picture ever made?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Star Wars?”

Again her head went left to right.

“The Dark Knight? Lord of the Rings?…Elf?”

Every Hollywood blockbuster Satoru listed, Hannah responded with a negative, except for Men in Black weirdly enough, which wasn’t close to being the best Will Smith performance. Nor did it cover Japanese staples like Spirited Away, Hara-kiri, or Bayside Shakedown. It killed him.

“Really, you haven’t seen any of these films?” he said, hands falling to his sides in disappointment. “Nada one?”

Hannah bit her lip and glanced at him warily. “I’ve read most of the books,” she squeaked. “Does that count?”

From that day forward, Satoru made it a priority that once a week Hannah sat down to watch a movie with him and, as an act of goodwill, would let her pick the genre. “Except romance,” he emphasized, making an “X” with his arms. “We’re not watching any of that garbage.” Though he must’ve been joking when he said this because a good quarter of his collection were rom-coms.

Unfortunately, Hannah couldn’t say these movie nights were particularly enjoyable since every few minutes or so, Satoru would forget where he was and spoil the scene, or worse, spoil the ending, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, nor condemn the obscene amount of butter he drizzled on the popcorn because in a physical sense he appeared alive and well, but Hannah knew he was tired. She knew how hard he’d been working; traveling, exorcizing Curses, haggling with the higher-ups, waking at the crack of dawn to train her, and doing it all over again. If watching a movie one day out of the week was his way of relaxing, then she would do her best not to complain. After everything that transpired over the last month, things had begun to take a turn for the better.

Aloof, scatterbrained, and eclectic, Hannah initially thought Satoru a tough nut to crack, but after spending an inordinate amount of time together, perhaps a better analogy was a rough diamond; only until you looked under the light, very closely, could you see the tiny fractures sparkling within. That being said, he had difficulty opening up, jabbering for hours on end without saying really anything at all, never personal, never too deep. Although sometimes when they got to talking and the film credits rolled, the mask would slip right off.

“I fuckin’ hate this job,” he admitted to her one night, resting his long legs atop the coffee table, while massaging his aching eyes.

Hannah’s own eyes deflected from the television screen, the half-empty popcorn bowl sitting comfortably in her lap. They’d just finished watching Disney’s Hercules and were about to watch The Aristocats next. The hollowness in his voice worried her. “What makes you say that?”

Satoru sighed deeply through his nose. He’d lost interest in the movie roughly forty minutes ago. “Curses are conjured from negative emotions wrought by humans,” he said, staring blankly at the scars lining his palm. “Envy, revenge, anger, despair. We could excorcize every Curse in this country, find all the Sukuna fingers before they fully manifested, and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he balled his fist, “Maybe Suguru was right. Maybe humanity is too far gone to save.”

“Suguru?” Hannah’s brows contracted. “Who’s that?”

His eyes quickly flicked to her. “Nobody,” he muttered, before looking at the television. “Just some guy I used to work with.”

Hannah bowed her head and slowly leaned forward. “Well…would you like to know what I think?” She placed the popcorn bowl on the table, enticing him to listen. She caught a slight trace of turquoise blue focused on her. “I think what you do is important. Because of you a mother didn’t have to bury her newborn baby, a little boy didn’t have to get his leg amputated from a curse infection, and an old man got to live longer to see his grandchildren grow up. People like you make a difference, Satoru.”

But as she said this, the sorcerer turned away. He’d heard the same speech before. “What’s the point? We can’t save them all,” he murmured.

“No, you can’t,” Hannah whispered sadly, knowing his words were true. “Like you said, there's terrible evil in this world,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, “but there’s also a lot of good. And if there’s a way to protect even a little of that goodness, doesn’t that make the fight worth it? Don’t you think having a little good in this world is better than having none?”

Satoru wheeled his head to look at her, Six Eyes blue as a cloudless sky. Is that what she told herself when the nightmares became too real? When she would cry out in the dead of night and beg someone, anyone, to come save her from the monsters she faced in her dreams?

“I wish I never had it,” he recalled her saying, and now several weeks after the fact, Satoru was beginning to understand what she meant. He couldn’t confirm to what extent, but Hannah’s visions were afflicting her almost every night, seemingly more morose and violent than the last. The walls weren’t soundproof. He could make out her whimpers emanating from across the halls. “Please,” she would weep in strained English, “help me.”

Gravely concerned for her mistress, Makoto once tried breaking the seal with a counter charm, a powerful disarming spell inked on a white tag, but the incantation swiftly rebounded upon making contact with the door and nearly engulfed the hallway in an inferno of bright purple flames. It was no good. The seal was indestructible. Sorcerer or not, nobody was getting in from the outside. They’d have to wait for Hannah to awaken on her own. It worked once with the ice water. Perhaps it would work again.

Satoru didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Late one night when he was returning home from another mission, trudging tiredly up the dimly lit hallway, his ears detected the sound of Hannah crying in her bedroom. Had he opened his door too quickly and closed it shut, he would’ve missed it.

“Sa…”

Satoru froze stiff, fingers hooked around the latch. Could it be — was she?

“Sa…u”

He glanced cautiously towards the other side, seeing her tiny figure through the walls on the ground, thrashing under the blankets like a butterfly tangled in a web, desperately wanting to be freed. The thought reminded him of that lousy hair clip he returned on her nightstand weeks ago. He walked over and pressed his ear to the door, her voice clear as a bell.

“Satoru.”

Nope. He wasn’t imagining things. That was definitely his name she was calling. But was it enough? Would it let him in like last time?

His hand gripped the shoji handle and yanked it gently to the right.

The door cracked a tiny sliver.

Ha! Success.

Quickly, he stepped into the room brimming with paulownias and looked down at his foreign bride, her pretty face contorted as though in pain; skin sweaty, teeth gritted, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. His chest lurched. She looked so frail, so weak, trapped inside that limbo state of neither sleep nor real consciousness, but Satoru knew his orders. He was not to wake her. He was not to disturb or inhibit the visions by any means. He could do nothing except watch the little woman go it alone. The inaction made him feel powerless, a horrible mixture of both pity and subdued agitation.

“No,” she cried out again, voice breaking from the violent sobs that overcame her body. “Ple-e-ease.”

Fuck. It had been like this for weeks. Orders be damned. Those old fogies could go drown themselves at the bottom of the Sumida river. Satoru knelt on the floor.

“Hannah?” he said, cupping her cheek and tapping it lightly. “Oi, you’re dreaming, Hannah,” he grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook, “Hannah. Wake up.” Her head lulled. Auburn hair clung to the sweat and tears on her cheeks as more sobs followed. She squirmed in his hold.

Running out of available options, Satoru was tempted to place two fingers on her forehead and disrupt the vision with Cursed Energy, but found himself reluctant to do so. He didn’t know the effects of using spells on people during powerful visions. It could easily backfire similarly to the charm Makoto placed on the door. What if he gave her irreparable brain damage or made her permanently blind? Maybe it wasn’t good of him to come here after all.

“No,” Hannah begged, her hand grappling for air as though reading his mind, “Please don’t,” she sobbed harder, “don’t go.”

Without a momentary thought, his palm found hers, tracing the smooth skin with his thumb in an effort to soothe, giving it a tender squeeze. This woman had shown him actual kindness when few else did and asked nothing in return.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he whispered, caressing her dollike hand in the moonlit dark. “I promise.”

Refusing to leave, the sorcerer stayed by her side the whole night, holding her hand, until the sun trickled in the next morning, secretly making his exit before those innocent hazel eyes flitted open.

Like always, Hannah would remember none of it.

Chapter Contents

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

To Have Loved and Lost Part Seven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: George Russell x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Hiiiii welcome baaaaaack thank you for reaaaaadiiiiiiiing

Warnings: Angst–this one is reaaaaaal angsty this week y'all; Gilded Age Manners™; pining; The One That Got Away; not a traditional happy ending

Summary: Ada Brook’s voice was as bright as her eyes. She smiled at you widely as she spoke—she even went so far as to lean in just a touch, as though you were the oldest of friends, and sharing some great secret.

“Do you wish to go home?” 

The question threw you for a number of reasons. Firstly, it had come from Franklin, and the tone of the query verged on compassionate. Secondly, you were no longer precisely certain where home was. 

Stevensville was where you’d been born, and where you’d matured, but it had felt like a prison for much of your life. San Francisco had been the first place that you’d felt your life and choices had truly been your own, though it had been dimmed by dwindling social and marital prospects. Chicago had been interesting enough, but set as you were on your path, it had felt similar to your time in San Francisco. Albany had felt as confining as your time living with your mother had—your days and actions had been restrained by the critical eye of your family. 

Your hand stilled where it was poised over your needlepoint, brow furrowing, head shaking a touch. 

“Do you wish for me to leave?” You countered, glancing up at him.

“You’ve seemed listless this past week or so. The only time I’ve seen you in good humor is when you’re with Eleanor.”

And that had become a rarity of its down. Eleanor and Gladys had practically been joined at the hip since you’d gone to the Russell’s for tea. You often sent Kate along with her, leaving the house somewhat rudderless. You really did need to hire on more staff, but you’d been dragging your feet as of late. 

“New York doesn’t seem to agree with you,” Franklin added. “If you wish to return to Albany, I would understand.” 

Albany was the last place you wanted to go. In the city, with Franklin, you had purpose, something to work toward. All that awaited you in Albany was a slew of relatives that were at once derisive and pitying of your spinsterhood. 

“Thank you, no," You shook your head. "I merely…I’ve had something of a cloud over my head this last week or so—It has passed now,” You hurried to fib as Franklin’s face twisted in confusion. “Regardless, I will remain here. Besides, how else will you make arrangements for the new home?” 

“I’d manage,” Franklin grumbled, lifting his paper to hide his face. You rolled your eyes. 

“I merely meant that you’ll be too busy with the tannery to arrange all of the details yourself.” 

Franklin let out another grumble from behind the newspaper, and you sank back into your seat, resuming your needlepoint. 

“...Franklin?” 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you for asking.” 

“...Mm.” 

--  

“Is this regarding the Hudson and Mohawk Rail Road?”

“No,” George shook his head, warily eyeing the door as Clay pulled it closed. “I need you to make a few inquiries for me—discreetly.” 

“Of course,” Clay nodded. George could see the worry and intrigue in his loyal friend's eyes. Frankly, he felt quite a bit of both himself. 

“I have a short list of names, and questions.” George reached into his pocket, drawing out the list he’d made up last night. On it was her name, and her mother’s, along with a few queries. “I need you to make the trip yourself. I don’t want this delegated to anyone else.” 

“I understand,” Clay nodded, taking the slip from George. “Where will I be going?” 

“Stevensville.” 

-- 

“Marian tells us that you’ve come to us from Chicago!” Ada Brook’s voice was as bright as her eyes. She smiled at you widely as she spoke—she even went so far as to lean in just a touch, as though you were the oldest of friends, and sharing some great secret. You couldn’t help but smile at her warmth and the way it seemed to permeate the dark, stifled little sitting room. 

“That is right,” You nod, glancing from Ada, to an encouragingly smiling Aurora and Marian, and ultimately, to a glowering Mrs. Van Rhijn. The old matriarch had hardly concealed her distaste for the entire affair since you’ve arrived, and she’d managed to marginally darken that afternoon's tea, even as Marian and Ada's probing questions and bright smiles pushed the conversation along. It was a wonder you'd been allowed in the house at all.

“Have you any plans to return there in the near future?” Mrs. Van Rhijn’s voice cut harshly across the room. You turned to her with a warm smile affixed on your lips. 

“Not at the moment. I’m here to help Mr. Hughes set up his house before I return to our family in Albany.” 

“Marian did tell us that, Agnes,” Ada reminded her sister lightly. You fought back a grin as Mrs. Van Rhijn cut her a sharp look in return. Before the conversation could continue, you heard a knock at the door. The group of you turned to find their stately looking butler at the door. 

“Pardon the intrusion. There is a message for Mrs. Van Rhijn and Mrs. Fane.” 

The two rose from their seats, offering gentle apologies and nods before leaving the room. Your gaze narrowed a touch. A message. For the two of them? A ruse, surely. 

You turned back to find Marian and Ada watching you with patient smiles. 

“They’re off to gossip about me, aren’t they?” You asked knowingly. Marian’s smile quirked at the question; Ada’s disappeared with an air of abject horror. 

“Oh, no—Surely not!” She insisted. You chuckled softly, leaning back in your seat in. 

“It’s quite alright if they have, Miss Brook. I’m used to the whispers.” 

“Has it happened often? In Chicago and San Francisco?” Marian plied. 

“Yes, but their social circles are hardly as gated as those here in New York,” You admitted. “There were some questions, of course, but hardly as many rounds of them. I feel as though I’m in a cordial boxing match with all of the 400.” 

Ada looked at once scandalized and delighted, her mouth working wordless for just a second before she offered: “Well—If just anyone were allowed in, it could strain the social order.” 

“I take no umbrage with it, Miss Brook," You reassured. "It was merely an unexpected consequence of my trip here.” 

Ada’s smile flickered back into place, though it seemed far more uneasy. 

“I must see what’s keeping them,” She mumbled, rising to her feet and hurrying from the room. You sighed softly, letting your eyes fall closed. 

“I’m afraid I’ve upset her.” 

“Surprised her, perhaps,” Marian conceded, “But I’ve learned in the few months that I’ve been here that Aunt Ada is made of stronger stuff than she lets on.” 

You smiled, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and tipping your head into your palm. 

“It is nice to see you again,” You offered. “If I may ask, where is Miss Scott?” 

“She does not live her anymore,” Marian admitted. There was a heaviness to the words, something that made her brow crinkle just a touch. She pressed on: “Her family is from Brooklyn.” 

“Ah.”

“If I may ask while the others are otherwise occupied—Did you know a Mr. Chamberlain while you were in Chicago?” 

You frowned, your brow furrowing as you wracked your brain for the name. It was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t make it stick to a face or a place. 

“I don’t believe so.” 

Marian nodded a little, lowering her gaze to her lap.

“I was merely curious. He’s the son of one of the other ladies you may meet at upcoming functions.”

“Mm…I could reach out to my acquaintances in Chicago and ask if any of them are familiar.” 

“Oh, no! Please do not trouble them, or yourself,” Marian reassured, meeting your eyes again. There was something harried in her expression, as though she’d just opened a box that she wasn’t meant to look inside. You gave a small, reassuring nod. 

“If you insist.” 

“Will yourself and Mr. Hughes be attending the ball at Mrs. Fane’s next week?” 

“Yes, we will,” You nodded. “I still need to have a dress made for it.” 

“Did you not bring any from Albany?” 

“I did not think I’d need one. I was only meant to assist Franklin in setting up his home and business. Now his business is in order, but his home is still in disarray.” You considered telling her the truth for a moment, then— “In truth, I’m not a fan of those functions. They’re nice to go to for a little while, but I’ve never been particularly good at formal dancing. And conversation there is always so stilted, and gossipy. I know that Franklin shall have to find his footing in New York, for his and Eleanor’s sakes, but…Well,” You sighed. “I never did suit polite society.” 

Marian’s brow furrowed, and she rose from her chair to sit beside you on the settee. 

“On the contrary,” She insisted, shaking her head. “You’ve been invited into one of the oldest and one of the newest homes in New York. You’ve forged so many relationships, and in such a short period of time. Mr. Hughes and Eleanor are lucky to have you in their corner.” 

You couldn’t help but smile as the sentiment burrowed its way into your chest. You so rarely received encouragement or thanks of this kind from your family. The recognition made tears spring up in your eyes. You drew in a deep breath to steady yourself, lowering your gaze to the velvet as you reached out, gently patting Marian’s hand. 

“You have a marvelous and kind soul, Miss Brook,” You said softly. You watched as she took hold of your hand in both of hers, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“If we are to be friends, you must call me Marian.” 

-- 

“Did you like her?” 

The question that Marian put to Ada seemed to set a fluttering about in her aunt. She hadn't dared ask it at dinner, lest they both receive the wrath of Aunt Agnes. Now she watched, amused, as Ada stood from her vanity, as if looking for something. When she could no longer stall, Ada turned to where Marian sat at the end of her bed. 

“She is…A very interesting person,” Ada finally managed. 

“I think she is, too,” Marian nodded. “If she did not have her experience and fortitude, I’d worry this city would chew her up and spit her out.” 

“Marian,” Ada chastised, lowering herself back down onto her vanity chair. “That is not polite.”

Marian frowned, drawing her knees up to her chest as she watched Aunt Ada. 

“Did you feel any…Kinship?” She hedged.

“Do you mean because we are both spinsters?” Ada arched a brow at Marian in the mirror, and the look made Marian feel cowed and shamed. Ada answered nevertheless: “It seems that we have walked very different paths in life.” 

“I wonder if there was someone in her past,” Marian let her gaze drift. “Some great love—Perhaps the man didn’t rise to her family’s expectations.” 

“Or perhaps she chose work with her cousin over conventional safety,” Ada offered. “She spoke very highly of him, and seemed knowledgeable regarding his business.” 

Marian hummed in soft agreement. “I don’t think Aunt Agnes liked her very much.” 

Ada twisted in her seat, eyeing Marian. “You know how Agnes feels about the new people.” 

“She made an expectation for Mrs. Russell.” 

“Only because Mrs. Astor forced her hand. She will not be so lenient next time—And neither will Mrs. Astor.” 

Tag list: @foxilayde ; @wretchedwisteria ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @amneris21