#everything else makes me make dubious faces like 'boys. boys i love you and i see where you're coming from but really? really?'

[training4theapocalypse]

Thirsty (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: SMUT, Mutual pining, Romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Dubious consent (they are both kind of drunk), Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: Your job restocking vending machines takes you to businesses all over Evergreen - including Fennel Fields where the cute busboy keeps making eyes at you. (Based on this ask by @kpopgirlbtssvt)

A/N: There’s a part where Adrian picks the reader up over his shoulder but he is a very strong boi, I am confident he could shoulder carry any thirsty MF. PS My toxic trait is that I slip a reference to Scotland in literally everything I write.

Masterlist

Tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982,

Chapter text:

The muscles in your forearms ache as you drag your hand cart, stacked with cases of soda and water, up the ramp at the back of Fennel Fields. 

You wheel your final delivery of the day straight into their break room, as usual, and park your cart beside the vending machine, ready to start your restock. You’re greeted amicably by the staff, who know you well enough that they’re not surprised to see you. 

But one particularly familiar face spots you from across the room and practically leaps off his chair. Adrian Chase looks forward to your weekly trip to Fennel Fields, and today he can’t help but notice the glow on your face from hauling your delivery. He wonders what else makes your face glow like that. He bets he could.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, and he blinks at you as if snapping out of something.

“Stranger? It’s me, Adrian.”

You grin. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not but either way, you find it sort of cute. And, yes, Taylor warned you to stop flirting with the hot but kind of dorky busboy because he’s gonna end up catching feelings, but there’s something fun about getting him all flustered and making his cheeks burn.

“I know, Adrian. I could never forget that pretty face,” you tease. He turns slightly pink. There it is. “Thirsty?” you ask.

“Yup, and wait til you see what I got you.”

This has been your routine at Fennel Fields for a few months now. You pick up some speciality soda while you’re delivering beverages across Washington and Adrian brings you something- usually a snack or anything else he thinks you might like.

“Three… two… one.” At the same time, you pull the soda out from your bag and Adrian hands you a small, blue rectangular box.

A cassette tape. Aqua- Aquarium. 

“Adrian! This is so sick- it’s so hard to find tapes these days.” You flip it over to read the tracklist. “I fucking love Barbie Girl.”

“Me too! And I noticed your Walkman, so I thought you could use some more music.” He looks down at the orange and blue soda can in his hands, reading the label. “IRN BRU?”

“This is the weirdest soda I’ve found yet. It’s like bubblegum cream soda but it burns.”

He cracks it open, takes a sip and looks confused. “I think I like it?” He takes another sip. “It’s like my mouth hates it but needs more.”

“I know, right?” You put the cassette in your bag and open the vending machine.

“Thanks for the soda.” He nods at your tired arms as you start loading in your delivery. “Sick forearm pump, by the way.”

“Uh, what?”

“Yeah! You can totally tell you’ve been working on them- they’re huge.”

You raise an eyebrow. It’s probably meant as a compliment, but you’re not sure how you feel about Adrian talking to you like you’re one of his bros at the gym. 

“I mean- not huge! Like normal. But nice. And-“

“Have you seen Taylor?” You decide to step in before he can dig this particular hole any deeper. “I need him to sign for this.”

“What’s up, Cuz?” Taylor appears from around a corner. 

You hold out your electronic POS and stylus, awaiting his signature. “Just need you to sign this, then I’m done for the night.”

“Nice!” says Adrian “You got any plans after this?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you tease him, a small balloon swells up in your chest with excitement. You’ve never been sure whether Adrian’s always so excited to see you because he likes you or if he just really likes soda. 

“Uh, me,  Adrian. Remember?”

“Hey man, what did I tell you about hitting on my cousin?” Taylor gives him a stern look. “Don’t you have a pregnant girlfriend to be worried about?”

You’re surprised, to say the least. The fact that Adrian has a girlfriend (a pregnant one at that) but he still goes out of his way to exchange gifts with you every week is kind of disappointing. It reaffirms your belief that there are no decent men in this town.

“Yes! I mean, no. We, uh, we broke up.”

“Because of the party you tried to throw her?” asks Taylor.

Aw, that’s kind of sweet.

“Uh, yeah, she did not appreciate the abortion party.”

What the fuck?

Taylor signs for the delivery and hands you back the device, giving you a meaningful look- I told you so. The balloon of excitement in your chest feels well and truly punctured.

“But I mean, I’m not hung up on her or anything. I actually dumped her.”

Yup, no decent men alright.

You and Taylor exchange glances. You can practically hear the wet raspberry of the balloon deflating completely. 

“I’d better go. Thanks for the tape, dude,” you say a little more coolly than you’d intended in your hurry to hide your dismay before wheeling your cart out of the break room.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” Adrian’s voice calls from behind you, but Taylor grabs the door before he can.

“I got it, man.” 

Taylor walks with you to the van. You lean up against the cab door in exasperation. Taylor offers you a cigarette which you go to accept, but he retracts the packet.

“Nuh-uh, let’s hear it first.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “You are so full of wisdom, as always, and I will forever heed your dating advice from now until the end of time,” you concede to Taylor, snatching a cigarette. He grins and lights you both up.

“Y’know what the weird thing is? I don’t think he ever had a girlfriend.”

You exhale a puff of smoke in surprise. “What was that about then?”

“I dunno. I caught him out here celebrating one night, and he made up a weird abortion party story. I think he was really out here dancing because Peacemaker came into the restaurant-“

“Peacemaker?! Jeez, isn’t that guy in jail?”

“Musta released him. But I think Adrian was being an excited fanboy and got embarrassed when I saw him. Dude’s a serial liar- I thought he’d come clean if I asked him about it in front of you.”

You lean your head back against the van. “Where are all the decent men in Evergreen?” You lament and start rhyming off, counting on your fingers. “They’re either obsessed with capes, racists, racist capes or racists who are obsessed with capes!”

“Well, speaking of capes, it’s getting dark. You better hit the road before you run into that nutcase, Vigilante.”

“Yeah, or the escaped gorilla,” you laugh, stubbing out your cigarette. 

“Put that in the trash or you’ll end up with a bullet in your head for littering.”

“I’ve charmed my way out of worse situations. Besides, maybe he’ll be the one to sweep me off my feet.”

“Vigilante? Or the gorilla?”

“Honestly, at this point, I’d take either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following afternoon, your delivery route sends you off down the highway. It’s not a glamorous job, stocking vending machines at different businesses all over the place, but it’s easy, and you can listen to your own music. It takes you all across this little corner of Washington, and the more you see, the more grateful you are that you get to live in this beautiful, rocky state.

Even if there isn’t a single eligible man to be found on your entire route. You still feel a little crestfallen thinking about Adrian Chase. Why was he so intent on lying to Taylor yesterday? How deep does his Peacemaker obsession go if he was that embarrassed?

You pull up to the back of the Glan Tai bottling plant on the outskirts of Evergreen, put on your headphones and turn on your Walkman. You want to keep a low profile because the clients are much weirder here than the rest- Adrian Chase excluded.

They weren’t always like this. The facilities manager at Glan Tai was a friendly old man - Clive- who let you use their bathroom, and gave you filter coffee from a polystyrene cup to ease your two-hour journey home. Until one day recently, Clive wasn’t so friendly anymore. New management, you expected.

Head down, you drag your cart through the service entrance and make your way to their storage room. Aqua blasts in your ears as you wheel your way along the corridor. There are loud bangs and the ground vibrates slightly, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary in a site with heavy machinery. 

You get to the room where they keep the IT equipment, files and vending machine and start unloading. You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder and pull your headphones down around your neck.

“Oh, sorry Clive, I didn’t see you-“ 

You freeze, icy fear spreading through your veins as you find yourself face to face with - you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me - the escaped gorilla from the zoo.

You scream. Loudly.

Two people burst into the room, startling the gorilla. It backs away from you. For a second, you think they’re factory workers running to your rescue. But they slam and bolt the storage room door shut behind them.

“No! Unlock the door!”

They whip around and point their guns at you. You drop the case of water you’re holding and hold your hands up in surrender.

One of them, you recognise from the news. A man in a black and teal suit, armed to the hilt, with his face almost entirely obscured- except by a red visor covering his eyes.

It’s him. It’s Vigilante. And a blonde woman you don’t recognise. 

He lowers his gun and nudges hers away from your direction.

“Shoot her before she kills us both!” snaps the woman, irritated. 

“She’s not a butterfly,” says Vigilante, his voice muffled behind his mask. “I know her.”

He knows me? How?

“I’m just delivering water, I swear!” You beg her, looking between them. 

Just then, the gorilla appears from behind the shelves and launches the blonde woman across the room.

An involuntary yelp of shock escapes you again and the gorilla returns its attention to you. Thinking fast, you tip your cart forward, and the giant ape trips up on the cascade of cans and bottles.

“You didn’t think to tell us there was a gorilla in here?!” Comes the annoyed blonde woman’s voice from behind a broken table.

“I was preoccupied with the guns in my face!” 

The door to the storage room is blasted open and another woman bursts in, followed by none other than Peacemaker.

Adrian would lose his shit right now, you think to yourself.

Peacemaker looks at you through the eyeholes of his helmet “She’s clear, Adebayo” and the other woman lowers her gun. The gorilla gets up. “Oh shit!” says Peacemaker as it sends a swipe in your direction, sending you tumbling off your feet and onto the floor.

You cower in the corner as they fight the gorilla. Vigilante stabs it but it bats him away easily and does the same to the woman called Adebayo. Peacemaker launches himself onto the gorilla’s back but the beast throws him off onto the hard floor.

“Die, human!” 

Did that gorilla just speak? What have you gotten yourself into?

The gorilla raises its fists, ready to crush Peacemaker, when a man with an oddly patchy beard runs through the door, chainsaw in hand and proceeds to kill the gorilla, sawing it almost in half and sending blood splattering everywhere. 

A small winged creature crawls out of the dead gorilla’s mouth. The blonde woman gets to her feet and shoots it casually. What the…? Was that some kind of parasite?

The gunshot leaves your ears ringing but hearing your name whispered in your ear brings you back to reality. You blink stupidly at Vigilante, who is now crouched down inches from your face and you try to make out his eyes through the red visor. You know those eyes. But how? How does the mass murderer of Evergreen know you?

He hooks his arms under yours, lifts you to your feet and wipes the smattering of blood off your face. Your heart is racing as you continue to stare at him silently, dumbfounded. You know you should be scared of this masked man, who’s wanted on multiple counts of murder. But here he is, claiming he knows you, making sure you’re okay.

“What do we do with her?” asks the bearded man with the chainsaw. 

“Who, me?” you try and sound nonchalant. “I didn’t see anything. I’ll just get out of your beard- hair! I mean hair.” You go to put your headphones back over your ears but the blonde woman rips them off.

“Hey!” Vigilante steps between you and her. “Look, she’s cool. She says she didn’t see anything, so she didn’t”

“How do you know she’s not a butterfly?” she challenges Vigilante.

“X-ray helmet,” interjects Peacemaker. “No butterfly in that pretty little noggin.” He winks at you and Vigilante bristles, folding his arms in an irritated sort of way.

“Listen, I’ve got like four more deliveries today so…” You trail off as your body starts to go on autopilot. There’s an awkward silence as they watch you bustle around, stacking the blood-covered cases of water and soda back onto your cart.

“She’s clearly in shock,” says Adebayo, more gently than the blonde. 

“Hey, let me help you with that,” says a muffled voice from behind you.

‘Hey, let me help you with that.’

In the exact same cadence as yesterday. 

“A-Adrian?” you say hoarsely and you turn back around in time to watch Vigilante drop the case of water. “Adrian Chase?!” you repeat, your voice slightly hysterical. 

“No!” says Adrian unconvincingly but at the same time Peacemaker says:

“Godammit Vij. How does she know you?”

Adrian groans in frustration. “She delivers drinks to my job too!”

“That settles it- she’s a witness and she knows Vigilante’s identity. Adebayo, you need to end this. Don’t make her beg for her life like the other guy,” commands the blonde woman, clearly in charge of the team.

“Nonononononono,” Adrian stands in front of you with his arms folded. “No way. I am not letting you kill her.”

“That’s an order, Adebayo. Vigilante- move.”

“Wait,” says the guy with the beard. “She might actually be useful, Harcourt.”

Harcourt raises her eyebrows. “Well?”

“We’re looking for other leads, right? Other places where the butterflies are?” He looks at you. “Hey, water girl. Does this company have any other locations?”

“Y-yes,” your throat feels dry.

“Can you tell us where they are?” he asks.

“Will you let me live if I tell you?”

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans. “Fine. But we’re gonna need to figure out what to do with her to keep her from blabbering.”

“C’mon, she already said she was cool!” says Adrian.

“And you trust her?”

“One hundo percent.” He gives you a reassuring thumbs up.

“I wouldn’t trust his judgement,” says Peacemaker and you immediately feel faint. It must be obvious on your face because he backtracks. “No! Not that we should kill her! Definitely not. But Adrian would trust any hot girl. We can’t just let her go.”

Harcourt pinches the bridge of her nose as she thinks. 

“Vigilante,” she says finally. “I’m telling Murn that water girl is your responsibility. You’re going to keep her with you 24/7 until the mission is over. Any fuck-up, if she does or says anything that jeopardizes our objective, she’s dead and you’ll be doing black ops in Belize. Got it?”

“Cool, got it!” says Adrian enthusiastically, as if that isn’t the most horrifying thing he’s ever heard.

“Wait, don’t I get a say in this? I have a job! I have people who will be looking for me.”

“Do you want to cooperate or do you want to die?” 

“Which one do you wanna do?” asks Adrian.

If you hadn’t already figured out that Vigilante was Adrian Chase, that would have been the dead giveaway.

A few moments later, Adrian is leading you by the hand back through the factory to where your van is parked while you cover your eyes with one hand. He had suggested it after your knees almost gave way when you saw the pile of bodies at the door. And he liked that you had rejected Peacemaker’s offer to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you out.

“Oh, no… Clive,” you whisper, making the mistake of opening your eyes and seeing the old man crumpled on the floor, next to the coffee machine. You cover your eyes again.

“Watch you don’t slip in the blood here,” says Adrian gently, guiding you to side-step.

You groan. You think you might puke. 

“I can’t believe you killed all these people,” you whisper, wishing you could disassociate from this whole thing.

“We didn’t, not really- I promise. I’ll explain on the ride home.”

Harcourt instructs Adrian to drive your van, following theirs back to Evergreen. When you’re both out of earshot and in your van, Adebayo sits in the driver’s seat turning to Harcourt, Peacemaker and Economos. “Isn’t it kind of weird seeing Vigilante like this?”

“Like what?” asks Economos.

“Like, compassionate, sweet… not all hell-bent on murder?”

Peacemaker shrugs “He’s like this all the time. You should hear the way he talks about this other girl, his friend Taylor’s sister, or cousin, I think. He’s just a sucker for anyone who’s nice to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, you’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, waiting for Adrian to finish up in the shower.

On the drive to their headquarters, Adrian had explained all about their mission and how an alien race called ‘the butterflies’ had taken over the bodies of (and, therefore, killed) all those people in the factory long before Adrian’s team had arrived.

At headquarters, you had told them everything you knew about your clients at Glan Tai and had given them the coordinates for their other delivery location- a small farm thirty miles north of the factory. Murn seemed to be satisfied with your intel and approved of Harcourt’s plan to have Adrian keep you under close surveillance. Great. 

Adrian grabbed his go-bag from his Sebring and drove the two of you in your van back to your apartment, where you immediately ran to the shower, to try and rid yourself of all the negative feelings from today.

He now appears in your living room, fresh out of the shower in a pale blue t-shirt and jeans, looking much less out of place than when he was in his full combat gear. But he still stands awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself. 

“Thirsty?” you ask him. “I’ve got wine.”

“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

You find two wine glasses and place them on the coffee table. He sits on the edge of your couch. “What am I gonna do, Adrian?” You open up a bottle of red wine and start pouring. “I could barely stand seeing all that shit at the factory. Do you really think I’m gonna kill you?” You slide a glass towards him and start filling your own. 

He looks down at the wine but doesn’t touch it. You raise your glass. “To forgetting the worst day of my life.”

“The worst day of your life? Today was awesome!” He looks genuinely surprised that you’re not sharing his elation. “We killed a ton of butterflies, and now thanks to you, we know where they keep their cow.”

It’s a sentence that wouldn’t have made sense to you a few hours ago. And you hate that it does now.

“We’re saving the world,” he continues. “And you helped!”

You push his wine glass closer to him. “To saving the world, then.”

He takes a sip and screws up his face. “Do you have any beer? Ooh, or soda!”

“It’s in the van. And most of it’s covered in blood now.”

“Then this is great,” he says, a little too politely. 

“If you’re not used to it, the first glass tastes like acetone,” you tell him, draining yours. “But the second one…” You pause, pouring yourself another. “The second goes down real smooth.”

Adrian copies you and gulps down the red wine. You refill his glass, and he takes another sip.

“The second one isn’t so bad, actually.” He sounds surprised. 

You sink down on the couch next to him. “So now what?” you ask. He looks confused, so you elaborate. “What do you usually do with hostages all night?”

“You’re not a hostage!” He looks offended. “I’m more like your bodyguard.”

“Oh yeah? Who are you guarding me from? Your friends?”

He looks up over his glasses in thought. “Well, just Harcourt. And Murn. But it’s mostly to keep you safe from the butterflies.”

You take another drink of wine. Studying his face, you think he’s telling the truth. He really doesn’t consider you to be his hostage. As you look him over, you realise you’ve never noticed how curly his hair is before- he’s normally wearing that dorky little Fennel Fields hat. 

You’ve always thought he was cute in a wholesome kind of way but now that he’s out of his work uniform, you can appreciate that he’s, like, ridiculously, conventionally handsome. You wonder if he knows it. You wonder a lot of things about Adrian, especially now that, come to think of it, everything you know about him is probably a lie to keep his secret identity hidden.

“Truth or dare?” you blurt. 

“What?”

“Go on.” You gesture towards him with your glass. “We’ve got a long night. I want to find out more about you. Adrian. Vigilante.”

He looks excited. Maybe it’s the prospect of playing a game, or maybe he’s just happy someone wants to know more about him. Both sides of him.

“Truth then.”

“Does your pregnant ex-girlfriend exist?”

He groans and leans his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “No. I was just trying to cover how stoked I was that Peacemaker was out of jail.” 

You laugh, but your eyes linger on his exposed neck and the way his Adam’s apple moves when he talks.

He turns his head to look over at you through his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t think Taylor likes me.”

“Taylor likes you just fine,” you lie, sipping your wine.

“Truth or dare?” asks Adrian.

“Truth.”

“Has Taylor ever told you that you shouldn’t date me?”

“Ugh, fine. Yes. He told me not to give you my number.”

“Why?!”

“If you want to ask a follow-up question, then you need to take a drink. That’s the rule.” He does so- quickly. “Okay, fine. He says he doesn’t trust you because you’re always lying about things, and it kind of annoys everyone because you’re a bad liar.”

“Everyone?! I thought we were talking about Taylor?”

“If you want to be liked and have a secret identity, you need to be a better liar.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” admits Adrian, twisting the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Your turn, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

He thinks for a couple of beats. “I dare you to finish your drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“It was the only dare I could think of that wasn’t a sexy dare.”

The newly formed idea of Adrian asking you to do something sexy for him makes you pause. Warmth pools deep in your tummy as watches you, waiting. God, why does red wine always make you feel so slutty? You raise your eyebrows over the rim of your glass, and you drain the rest of the liquid. “Why don’t you want to give me a sexy dare?” you ask, setting your glass down.

“I dunno, don’t you think there’s kind of a power imbalance?” 

“That’s true. You are my bodyguard after all.” You nod contemplatively. “And I guess it would be awkward since you need to stay here for a few more days.”

“Oh, I meant-” Adrian cuts himself off. What he really meant would sound incredibly childish now. 

You get up from the couch to retrieve another bottle of wine from the breakfast bar that separates your kitchen from your living room. “Go on, what did you mean?”

“No, I meant what you said.” 

No, he didn’t. What he meant is that you have all the power because he has such a huge crush on you. And the way the wine is going to his head, he’s not sure he trusts himself to give you a dare without it having an ulterior motive. Adrian watches as you twist the corkscrew into the bottle with precision. Your chest jiggles in your tank top with the recoil of your arm extracting the cork, and it makes Adrian blush bright red. He discreetly adjusts himself in his jeans.

You bring the new bottle of wine over to the couch and sit down cross-legged, your back leaning against the armrest so you can get a better look at him without constantly straining. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this, you think, as he gets comfortable, changing position so he can look at you too. In the soft light of your living room, you can make out that his cheeks are pink again. “Does wine usually make you flush like that?” you ask. 

“Uh, I wouldn’t know. Can wine do that?”

“To some people, yeah. For me, it just makes me feel kinda sexy.” You clap your hand to your mouth, watching Adrian’s eyes widen. “Ugh! Sorry, I wouldn’t have said that if I hadn’t had two glasses already.” You scoff and shake your head. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

The wine is making you feel bolder. “Have you had sex in your Vigilante costume?”

“Today?”

You almost choke on your newly poured drink with laughter. 

“Okay, that answers that question. In which case, I have a follow-up,” You take a sip, pointedly. “What’s Vigilante’s favourite sex position?”

“Oh, uh…” Adrian thinks back to when he last had sex as Vigilante, with Amber and Peacemaker a few days ago. “Any, I guess.”

“Any? C’mon, you picked truth!”

“It is the truth! I don’t take my mask off, or my suit if I don’t have to. So it always feels the same. Fun, I guess, but sorta uncomfortable. Funcomfortable.”

You smile and rest your head on your hand, elbow leaning on the back of the couch. “What about Adrian?”

“Is that another follow-up question?”

You acquiesce and take another drink but before you can even swallow he says “Missionary.”

“Boring,” you tease but he doesn’t seem fazed.

“It’s not. Not when you really like someone anyway. Missionary is fucking great - when you can kiss them, hold their hand, stare into their eyes…” He pauses, his green eyes burning into yours. “Boring is not being able to even taste someone because of my mask.”

You realise you’ve been holding your breath. You look away and exhale slowly, trying to steady the growing arousal burning hot, deep in your pelvic floor. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-” When you raise your head again, he’s still looking at you intently. “I just realised I haven’t been fucked like that in a really long time.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah right! I bet you go on tons of dates.”

“I do,” you admit with a tilt of your head. “But did you know that like 90% of women don’t orgasm on a one-night stand?”

Adrian’s eyebrows knit together “That doesn’t sound right. Women always cum when I-”

“That’s what all men say, Adrian. But honestly, I don’t think a man has made me cum in, like, the entire time I’ve been single.”

“I could,” he says, matter-of-factly. It’s not a boast, it’s a simple statement. 

Honestly, you're not sure if it’s the alcohol or the vivid image you have of Adrian making you clutch at your bedsheets and moan his name, but something’s making the blood rush to your face and other parts of your body that you’re still desperately trying not to think about. 

“I’ll do it right now if you want?” 

He’s asking if he can try to make you cum as casually as if asking if he can help you restock the vending machine. It’s bolder than you’d expected from the shy busboy. Then again, you’d never expected him to be Vigilante either… maybe you should review all the preconceptions you have of him.

Your abdomen clenches. Fuck, you can feel how hot and sticky your underwear is as he blinks at you behind his glasses, waiting for your response.

You look at his face hungrily, eyes lingering on his lips, now stained with red wine. “Adrian, listen. I’m sure you’re very good, blah blah blah. But I just… I don’t want to set you up for disappointment. It’s kind of hard to make me cum.”

“Let me give it a shot. And if I can make you cum, you let me take you on a date.”

You stare at him, feeling your chest pounding as you contemplate his offer. There’s something about his voice that’s so sincere and so fucking desperate for you, your brain can’t think of a reason not to say yes.

“Truth or dare?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Truth.”

“Do you want me to go down on you? I’m really good at it.”

Yes! You want to scream- already stupidly soaking fucking wet at the mere idea of it. 

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut and nod. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Yeah?” His tone makes you think that he wasn’t really expecting you to say yes.

“Yes, Adrian.” You laugh in disbelief. “If you make me cum, you can take me on a date.” He grins and you shift inelegantly, not sure how to proceed. “So… how do you wanna-”

Adrian pounces on you before you can ask the question, his red-stained lips crashing against yours. You kiss him back- hard. You’re thirsty for him, you realise, as you taste the alcohol mixed with the slightly metallic taste of his saliva. You want to drain him, drown in him.

He groans when you grab the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. He can’t believe that you’re kissing him like this- like it’s you who’s been pining after him and not the other way around.

You pause, lips barely touching his. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” you whisper.

“You- you have?”

“Adrian, I spend half my week trying to find you new kinds of speciality soda just so I have an excuse to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawns on him. All this time he just thought you were really, really into soda. 

Adrian gives you one last deep kiss and pulls away. He gets on his knees on the floor, and the sight of him there, with his hands on your hips and his body between your legs, makes your cunt clench. You bite your lips in anticipation.

His fingertips hook the hem of your sweatpants. “Can I take these off?” You lift your hips, permitting him to remove them.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your pussy.

“Adrian…” You mumble, suddenly self-conscious. Exposed. You try to bring your knees together, but he places a hand on each of your thighs, holding them firmly open. 

“You’re wet already,” he says, in a self-satisfied sort of way that makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “When did that happen? Was it when I said I’d make you cum?”

You shake your head. “When I was wondering what kind of sexy dare you wanted to give me.”

He grins “I wanted to dare you to take your top off.” He traces a finger along your hot, wet folds. You gasp, feeling the calloused texture of his fingertip brushing up and down against your skin.

“Like this?” You lift your tank top up and over your head, tossing it aside and then you squeeze your tits together. 

He sits on the floor, lips parted slightly in awe. You feel like he’s looking at you like you’re the most-

“You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Now you really are embarrassed but before you can respond, he dips the finger that was sliding along your folds into your pussy. You bite your lip to stifle the vulnerable, blissful sigh that leaves you.

“It’s okay- you can moan for me.” He reassures, pushing a thick finger in and up. You feel your walls squeezing around him in response. “God, you’re so tight around my finger.”

“Fuck-” you plead, as he teases you, gently stroking your g-spot. His lips haven’t even touched you yet and you already feel like you’re having to consciously stop yourself from cumming.

“You needed this, huh?” he asks and you watch as he kisses your inner thigh, sucking the sensitive skin there. You have to look away- just the sight of his jaw muscles moving as he traces his tongue along the crevice where your thigh meets your body almost sends you over the brink.

“Adrian, I’m- fuck-” After all your warnings about how difficult it would be to make you cum, you’re are shamefully close already- and Adrian knows it. Everything below your waist is hot and shaking and swollen as his finger curls up inside you, tapping rhythmically. 

“Wait not yet- I’ve got to taste you. I want you to cum on my tongue.”

Warmth envelopes your clit as Adrian opens his mouth and slowly glides his tongue over the bundle of nerves there, tasting you for the first time. He barely moves at all but you’re so close that just the pressure of his mouth on you sends the crashing wave of your orgasm rolling across his hot tongue. Your back arches and your walls clamp down around his finger. 

He lets out a groan, sending pleasant vibrations across your clit. 

“Shit, Adrian-”

Blinding lights appear somewhere between your eyelids and the centre of the universe. Your thighs tense as the pleasure shoots through your body, your pussy flooding his mouth between your legs. 

When you finally stop twitching he removes his tongue from you, giving you a moment’s respite. 

“That was, like, really easy,” he smirks as you run your hands through your hair in disbelief. “I didn’t even have to take my glasses off.”

“I’ve never-” You try to catch your breath, blinking at him. You’re not sure you’ve even made yourself cum that quickly before. “That’s never happened -so fast- ever.”

“I shoulda asked what two orgasms would get me.”

“Literally anything. Do whatever you want with me-” you babble, staring up at the ceiling. You pause to look down when you feel him remove his finger from inside you. 

And he takes off his glasses, ready to make you a fucking mess.

It’s the singular hottest action you’ve ever seen anyone do in your entire life- Adrian Chase is going to be the end of you.

He hooks his arms behind your knees, lifting your ass off of the couch and pulling you towards him. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, mesmerised by the way your chest still heaves in the aftershock of your orgasm. Adrian buries his face between your legs, delving his tongue between your lips and exploring your entrance.

He pulls back for a second “I knew you’d taste so fucking good.” 

Fuck. 

You watch as he sucks on two of his fingers and sinks them deep inside you, up to his knuckles. When you repeat his name over and over, he answers by flicking his tongue over your clit.

You gasp at the sensation and grab a fistful of his thick, curly hair. His tongue rolls gentle circles around your clit as his fingers work in and out, softly stretching your pussy. Adrian takes his time now and it’s agonising. 

For so long he’s been having sex as Vigilante. Adrian’s missed this, the freedom of having his mask off. Of taste. And he can’t believe that it’s you that he’s devouring. 

Fuck, and you could lie here like this forever, just enjoying him exploring you, like he wants nothing more than to make you gush all over him and cry his name again. Normally you’d feel under pressure to perform, to give him that second orgasm he’s so determined to draw from you, but the way he’s taking his time, lazily swirling his tongue in circles, and curling his fingers into you makes you dissolve into a puddle.

“Fuuuck,” you whine helplessly, feeling the familiar sensation of you losing yourself, the heat that’s been slowly building deep in your core threatening to boil over. “Can we do this, like, the whole time you’re here protecting me?” Your eyes try to find his but he’s staring at your tits. His other hand is on your hip, fingers not quite stretching up towards you - as if unsure what the boundary is on touching you when it comes to this silly little deal you’ve made.

You pull his hand to your chest, encouraging him to squeeze you. He moans needily between wet, sloppy licks. The sound of him being so turned on just from touching your body, when you haven’t laid a hand on him yet sends ecstasy searing through you.

And it comes, whipping through your core and cracking like thunder. You squeeze your thighs around his head and he lets you set the pace, as you grind yourself wildly onto his tongue, his lips, his chin. Adrian groans in encouragement when you grip the back of his head, his fingers still pressing into your g-spot as you press yourself against his mouth. 

You cum hard again, your rocking hips eventually shuddering to a halt as he gives you a few last long, slow licks. The faint prickle of embarrassment you feel from letting yourself come undone like that vanishes when you see Adrian’s face light up, his lips swollen and sticky, totally enamoured by your now slightly dishevelled appearance. 

His mouth looks irresistible. You slink down off the couch to join him on the floor so you can kiss him desperately. Fuck, why did you ever listen to Taylor? You needed this. Needed him. You taste the sweet, salty juices on Adrian’s lips and on his tongue.

“I’ll admit-” you breathe, pressing your forehead against his. “- you’re like really, really fucking good at that.”

“Told you.” He leans on the couch and gets to his feet. “So, where’s your bedroom?”

“Uh, down the hall, across from the bathroom. Why?”

“Two orgasms and I can do what I want with you. Deal’s a deal.” Before your brain can catch up, he hoists you to your feet and over his shoulder, making you squeal involuntarily with delight.

Oh my fucking god.

Adrian slaps your ass and carries you through to your bedroom, tossing you onto your bed where you burst into a fit of giggles. He smells warm and clean, like your favourite shower gel he must have used earlier. He crawls on top of you and plants tiny kisses all over your lips, your cheeks, your nose- every inch of your face and neck peppered with his affection. 

He pulls off his T-shirt and - Jesus Christ, he has abs. But you also notice his torso is covered in scars and bruises, the evidence of his double life painted across his body. A streak of white scar tissue here, a purple welt there-

“Don’t girls usually ask about all these injuries?” You ask, tracing your hand down his chest.

“I usually keep my suit on.” He shrugs.

And that’s when you realise- he doesn’t just happen to have sex as Vigilante. He only has sex as Vigilante. You feel a pang of understanding, thinking about the way he so wistfully described missionary earlier. You’re the only one who’s seen him like this. Both sides of him.

Adrian undoes his belt buckle and looks down at you lying spread out of the bedsheets in front of him, still flushed and glowing. He knew he’d be able to make you glow like that.

He pauses. “Do, uh, do you have a condom? I wasn’t expecting to…”

You find a condom in your bedside drawer while he undresses and then you help to put it on him as you kiss the small trail of dark hair below his belly button. He’s big- bigger than what you’re used to. You’d really, really like to suck it, you think. But Adrian has other ideas. He guides you back to lie on your pillows and climbs on top of you.

Wanton anticipation bubbles over inside you, you sigh needily as he kisses your neck and brings his calloused hand between your legs again. He slides his fingers into your folds and you hear the wet sounds of him rubbing your slick on his cock. It’s greedy but you’re already impatient for him- you want to cum for him again.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks into your eyes. “You okay?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Fuck me- please.”

The way you plead makes him twitch- he can’t take it anymore. The erection he’s had since you opened that second bottle of wine is throbbing. Adrian’s hips press into you and you feel his cock pushing through your folds, into your centre. A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel him filling you up, the walls of your pussy struggling to accommodate him.

Watching your reaction, he double checks “Sure you’re okay?” 

You nod. Because it aches - but in the best kind of way. 

“Good,” he says. “Because you feel so good. Your pussy feels so fucking good around me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. Fuck, he has such a slutty little waist, you think to yourself as he grinds into you, pushing deeper, the head of his cock pressing into your g-spot. You slip your hand between your bodies to touch yourself and he moans quietly in your ear.

“Oh my god, yeah. Fuck, rub your clit because I’m not gonna last long.”

He clasps your other hand, fingers intertwining with yours- half holding it, half pinning it to the bed. Your body writhes under him, leaning your head back into your pillows and he takes the opportunity to suck at your freshly exposed neck.

“You look so good taking it so deep like this,” he groans, tilting his head down to watch his cock slide in and out of you. “I can’t believe I’m fucking inside you.”

Everything he says makes the hairs on the back of your arms stand up. You feel so, deliciously full- the indecent slapping and squelching noises as he picks up pace and pounds into you only makes you wetter.

Your legs squeeze around his waist as your whole body tightens like a spring coiling, ready to be released. The friction of his body moves yours, driving you into your mattress, and putting even more rhythmic pressure on your fingers against your clit. 

“Adrian, I’m- ah, fuck- I’m gonna cum again.”

“Fuck, look at me. I want you to cum when I cum. Let it all out for me.”

You try and keep eye contact with him while bliss rockets through your body as his hips slam into you harder. It spreads from your centre right down your legs, now in a vice-like grip around him. You curse his name incoherently, your pussy tightening and releasing as you cum around his cock. 

“That’s it- fuckfuckfuckfuck-” His full weight collapses on you as he empties himself. You feel Adrian’s cock pulsing inside you as he groans your name and comes to a halt.

You both lie there for a few moments, Adrian breathing raggedly into the crook of your neck, his heartbeat and yours pounding against each other. Your euphoria is interrupted only briefly when he pulls out of you and disposes of the condom. 

Adrian returns to your bed and pulls you into his chest. 

“I am never listening to Taylor ever again,” you say, face pressed against his pectoral muscles.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, unless…” You tilt your head up to look at him. “You still want to take me on a date right?”

“Are you crazy? Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nevermind.” The dating scene in Evergreen has sucked so hard for so long, your first thought was that he might not want to see you again.

He grabs your face with both hands, trying to drum sense into you. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for months. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Adrian plants a kiss on your forehead.

Maybe there is a decent man in this town after all.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 12

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

"Enough! I’m not playing with you!" I snapped through gritted teeth, looking around nervously, fearing someone else might see us. "We’re going inside now, and you’re going to put some clothes on before I have to force you!"

"For someone who’s been treating me like I don’t exist, you seem awfully concerned," she said, dragging out every word with exaggerated slowness, dripping with sarcasm.

I didn’t know my body could overheat like a volcano about to erupt until this cursed woman crossed my path. It was evident from the triumphant look on her face that making my life a living hell with her presence was her greatest mission on Earth. I had no doubt that was what tied her to the band.

Being here every day, driving me a little more insane for her amusement.

Every time a car passed and honked as the driver caught sight of her body, clad in nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties, I wanted to claw my eyes out. It was hard enough to focus on her mocking face when all I wanted was to savor the view that hadn’t been mine for a long time.

Everything was still perfectly in place, and damn it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this close to her exposed body. Her curves looked like they’d been painted with the finest brush, and at this distance, I could practically feel the texture of her skin and even catch her scent. I wasn’t the best at remembering things most of the time, but I never forgot anything about her.

"Let’s. Go. Inside. Now!" I said slowly, feeling another wave of fury boiling inside me as another car passed, honking and catching her attention.

"Don’t you dare come any closer!" she warned, pointing a finger at me, stepping back as she realized I was closing the distance between us. "Stay right there! Don’t move!"

"Or?" I tilted my head, matching her defiant tone. "That’s what I thought."

It only took one step to invade her space and lift her off the ground as if she weighed nothing, slinging her over my shoulder. Her screams and hysteria as we headed back to the studio didn’t faze me in the slightest, nor did her fists pounding against my back in an effort to free herself.

"PUT ME DOWN!" she yelled, kicking her legs and hitting my back harder. "PUT ME DOWN NOW, YOU IDIOT!"

Inside the studio, I tossed her onto the couch and pinned her down, immobilizing any movement by holding her wrists above her head. Her chest heaved erratically until our breaths became one, her darkened eyes locked on mine.

"Damn the day you crossed my path, you cursed girl!" I growled, tightening my grip on her wrists, my stomach churning inexplicably every time she curved her lips in amusement. "Have you lost your mind, pest?"

"You were so eager to touch me again that you broke your own stupid rule, didn’t you?" she taunted, biting a corner of her lower lip and holding it between her teeth, eliciting a faint gasp from me. I hated when she did that. "Look at you, still the same scared little boy whenever something crosses the limits of your control."

She lifted her head slightly, and our faces blurred into one another. Instantly, my skin felt like it was sparking as if struck by invisible embers.

"You still reek of fear, Noah," she whispered, her voice maddeningly soft. God help me, it was the closest I’d ever been to losing my mind. "And I love it."

"How is it that your entire life revolves around making mine a living hell and enjoying every second of it!"

"I won," she declared softly, almost sweetly, her jet-black eyes gleaming like polished tourmalines. "I beat you."

There was no denying the curse in her gaze. Not once had her eyes crossed paths with mine without dragging me into an abyss where I fell endlessly, with no place to land. Trapped in a trance. That was her power over me.

"There are curses that can’t be broken, Noah..." she whispered, her lips brushing faintly against the skin of mine. They were dry from the sudden lack of air and the suffocating heat that had overtaken the studio in mere seconds. "No matter how much you try to avoid us during the year, every pathetic day of your life, or who wins tonight. In the end, you’ll always be mine."

Her small nose grazed mine, and my eyes closed as her long, curled lashes brushed against my eyelid. Every touch seemed to amplify in intensity, as if reality had slowed to six times its normal speed, forcing my body to absorb every moment with care.

My free hand traced the side of her body, and with each advance of my fingers, counting her ribs, she gasped and reacted with her skin prickling from the sensitivity. I lifted her by placing my hand on her spine, and when I finally released her wrists, she launched herself at me, pressing our lips together in a furious kiss.

She clung to my neck as if afraid I might escape at any moment—an impossible detail when I was holding the world in my arms. The entangling of our tongues fueled the compression of our bodies. Slowly, I pushed her legs apart to wrap them firmly around my waist.

“I never disagreed with this part,” I murmured, tugging at her lower lip slowly. Pulling away swiftly, I tilted her head back, my fingers digging into her hairline, and watched as her heavy breaths colored her flushed face. I couldn’t resist when her smile broke through a soft moan under the pressure I applied to her body.

Our laughter synchronized with our desperate breaths as we resumed the rhythm of our kiss. Living a scene where we’d almost killed each other moments ago seemed to ignite an even fiercer spark, fueling the silent dance of our bodies. I buried myself in her lips with such urgency, as if I might lose her again. Her lips sucked on mine as we switched sides, and I held her face firmly, pressing my thumb into her skin.

It was more than good.

Tasting something that belongs to you has a different flavor. Tracing a body you know so intimately, like running fingers over the keys of a piano; feeling at home in a familiar place; recognizing the rhythm of a breath as if it were a musical note; desiring to merge with one person's lips for the rest of your life.

It was more than good.

But it couldn’t be mine.

With one last turn, I released her lips slowly. She seemed confused at first but softened as I rested my forehead against hers. Her fingers gently traced my face, making my skin tingle as if it might peel from the bones at any moment.

“I know what you're trying to do…” I said quietly, as though an invisible rope tightened around my throat.

“No, no, no, no, my love…” she repeated, holding my face as I tried to pull away. “Don’t do this, please.”

“We can kiss now, drown ourselves in this feeling that everything still belongs to us. That we still exist. I could tell you I’ve been waiting for this, and you could drown me in your lies and more promises you won’t keep,” I declared, even more agonized. “But our problems won’t disappear when we walk through that door, and they’ll come back, forming that same chasm that tears us apart, the one we know too well. Do you know why? Because I don’t want to hear you anymore, no matter what you have to say.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“Because you haven’t changed a single thing, and the proof is what you’re trying to do now, pulling me back into the same cycle again.” With the finality of my words, I stepped away from her gradually and stood up. On a chair, I noticed a shirt I assumed was Ruffilo’s and threw it at her, still staring at the ceiling in a trance. “Why are you doing this?”

I felt like closing my own throat with my fists, such was the pain constricting it and cutting off my air. I needed to breathe in short intervals, releasing it slowly through my mouth. I watched her get up and dress while still sitting, her arms hanging limp, her disheveled hair revealing the knot she tried to swallow.

Like me.

“It’s getting harder every day to just pretend I don’t care about this when everything I see, every path I try to take, every place I’m in—everything I am—has you,” she said without even looking at me. “I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life, and that’s saying something, considering I’m used to my own company. But that was before I hated everything I see in the mirror. Because she’s the real culprit.”

“I could say I miss you—I miss you in the morning, I miss you at night, I miss you in the shower, I miss you in bed, I miss you when I eat, I miss you when I’m on stage, I miss you when I write…” I paused for a few seconds, searching for air in the ceiling. “Because you’re right, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to write anything good. You took everything I had, even my inspiration.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over, shaking her head. “There isn’t a day I don’t feel guilty for killing that version of you and turning you into this.”

I hated myself for being moved by her tears. Were they real, or just the effect of whatever junk she was on? I didn’t care; the crushing sensation was the same, like a hammer shattering a glass chest.

Taking cautious steps, I approached and knelt beside her. Hard shell, sharp tongue, and a messed-up personality, but deep down, she was just a girl afraid to go home, afraid of anything that might trap her again. She was like a damned little bird, insisting on flying with wings patched together with toothpicks after a grave injury.

"If you’re truly consumed by remorse and want to do something for me, then take care of yourself," I said softly, lifting her chin with the tip of my finger. "Keep your mind steady, your body healthy. I wish I could do that for you, because I would never treat you this way."

"I love you."

Shimmering gemstones in the salty sea of her tears—it was the first time I heard her say it with such anguish, as if each word tore through her chest. She surprised me with a tight embrace, collapsing onto my lap, breaking down completely on my shoulders, and shattering my heart with the sound of her sobs.

Unfortunately, I returned the hug just as tightly, drowning in her hair. She wouldn’t see the tears I left there.

I love you too, little storm.

Nor would she hear what I whispered to myself.

Bad Omens was on its way to Mexico.

We couldn’t be more excited about a festival in a country we had yet to visit. Our Mexican fans were awesome and always tagged us in posts, asking us to come. Their day had finally arrived.

Our schedule was so packed during the three days we’d be there that we’d hardly have time to explore the city. Gerard, of course, thought that was nonsense and made it clear that if we wanted to sightsee, that’s what vacations were for.

The guys were asleep in their seats at the back of the plane, and not even my headphones could block out Folio’s snores.

Matt, Jolly, and Ruffilo were with the rest of the crew, glued to their phones, while I… well, I was in my favorite spot by the window, playing a ridiculous fruit-slicing game on my iPad and listening to music.

Nothing could ruin my trip.

“Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me.” She said quickly, weaving through the people in the aisle. Her body came to a halt in front of the aisle seat, and she checked something on her phone before glancing at the seat number.

Well, I spoke too soon.

“Great, this is my seat!” She said without much enthusiasm and, after placing her carry-on in the overhead compartment, sat down next to me.

It was impossible for her to arrive anywhere without drawing attention. She had to be noisy, bump into things, and breathe way too loudly. I kept playing as if nothing was happening and turned up the volume on my headphones.

Of course, after the conversation at the studio, things had gone back to normal. We fought like animals the next day because she insisted we should change the stage setup unnecessarily, and our brief truce resulted in another three days of silence.

I thought it was perfect.

“What are you listening to?” she asked, running her palm along her thigh. From her rushed tone, I guessed she was nervous.

“Music.”

“What song?” she shot back with another question, and I wished for death just to avoid answering.

“How about you grab your headphones, put them on, and stay silent for the rest of the flight while pretending this seat is empty and that Matt forgot me at the airport?” I said, glancing at her, and she didn’t even flinch.

For a few seconds, that actually worked—she stayed quiet.

But, as I said, only for a few seconds. From the corner of my eye, I saw her tapping her fingers on the torn part of her jeans. Her breathing seemed uneven, and even after sitting for a while, her body remained tense. If I knew her well enough, I’d say she was having an anxiety attack.

“Would you mind switching seats with me?” Her fingers curled, and she pressed her palm against the armrest as the plane prepared for takeoff. “I promise to stay really quiet if you let me have the window seat.”

I pretended not to hear and kept slicing fruit on the tablet. Out of the corner of my eye again, I saw her close her eyes as the plane ascended, shrinking into her hoodie with trembling fingers peeking out of the sleeves.

I closed my eyes, sighed deeply, and shifted to stand up. She opened one eye and looked confused as I gestured with my chin for her to take the empty window seat.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me Miss I’m Not Afraid of Anything is still scared of flying.” I let out a chuckle, settling into my new seat.

"Ok, go ahead and call me pathetic," she replied without looking at me, her eyes fixed on the clouds over the airplane wings as she quietly counted her breaths.

"Actually, try focusing your energy on something during the flight, and it’ll go by faster. Try listening to music, reading a book, or—"

"Composing? Singing for the entire plane?" she cut in, raising an eyebrow as she turned to face me. "All terrible options. Honestly, I just get bored when I’m sober."

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the tablet, as if pulling an invisible curtain between us. The more I kept my mind occupied, the faster the flight would pass, and the torture of enduring her next to me, constantly talking, would end.

"We get bored when we’re sober," she repeated, but this time with her eyes narrowing at something specific. "But we’re miserable when we’re not."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Her eyes lit up with something sharp, like lightning, and she pulled her phone from her pocket, fingers moving rapidly until she found the notes app.

"I can’t be saved," she murmured under her breath as she typed.

Carefully, I set the iPad aside and lowered the music in my headphones, watching something come to life before my eyes. She was having a burst of creativity and needed to write it down urgently.

"Watching it swirl down the drain," she continued, and my eyes narrowed as I watched her create something. It was fascinating how nothing around her seemed to exist—she was just immersed in her own thoughts.

I jumped when she suddenly shoved the phone into my hand, a sequence of jumbled phrases filling the screen. Each one had meaning but still needed to connect somehow.

So I decided to follow her inspiration’s formula.

"Old friends, the same as enemies. I’m killing myself again…" I said, finishing the sentence on her phone, filling one of the blank spaces.

"Watching it swirl down the drain…" Her expression finally softened as if something clicked into place. "Down the drain."

"With all I was but couldn’t change," I continued, holding her gaze before adding another note. "Down the drain."

"Down the drain," we said together, lifting our heads in surprise and holding each other’s gaze for a few seconds.

We had just created the second song for our album. Together.

Damn it.

We couldn’t be more different. We were a terrible duo playing instruments in completely disjointed orders. She always seemed to row against the current I was swimming, intentionally. And yet, it was surreal how she could take something so complex and make it look simple.

Like writing a song during an anxiety attack on a plane.

It was as if she didn’t need preparation or even a warm-up because she was born with it in her veins. Because she was good.

Really good.

"Thanks," she smiled, her breathing steadying as she leaned back in her seat. "I’m feeling better now."

"You wrote a good song."

"We wrote it," she corrected, nudging my arm with her elbow. "The first time you let yourself just listen to what’s in your head, we made a good song. We’re still a good team."

She looked so beautiful that, for a moment, I almost didn’t hear what she said, too focused on her bare face. The curve of her lips when she smiled was almost painful to look at up close, every time I remembered that just a few days ago, I’d tasted her again.

"Now that you’re feeling better, you can leave me in peace," I cut her off, turning up the music on my phone.

I was almost drifting off to sleep, guitar riffs running through my mind, when something poked my arm.

"Do you mind holding my hand?" My eyes opened, and there she was, looking at me with a pair of glistening gems. It was strange seeing her afraid, something I’d only witnessed a few times before. "Just until we land, please."

Slowly, I turned my palm upward and waited for her to slide her fingers over mine and interlace them. Unlike mine, her hand was soft and warm, and I couldn’t resist the involuntary motion of running my thumb slowly along the side.

Once again, I was doing what she wanted because maybe she was right when she said I was pathetic.

And I couldn’t wait for this plane to land already.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[missmugiwara]

If I May Be So Bold

Summary: fem!reader x Rengoku // You, Rengoku, Uzui and the boys go to the Red Light District. You agree to go undercover as an oiran, but you can't help feel some type of way for the Flame Hashira. Perhaps this mission will bring you two closer. Warning: 18+, NSFW, slight smut, some dubious consent (in the form of kissing), swearing, mutual pining, friends to lovers Note: Took me forever to edit! This is a bit of a long read. Hope you all enjoy!

Everything went smoother than planned. Tengen and Rengoku did a fantastic job talking you and the three young slayers up (although the Hashiras' good looks really helped). On the first night everyone had successfully infiltrated a house in the Red Light District. Ironically, Inosuke and you had been snatched up together for House Ogimoto. Besides that, it was a relief to know someone was with you to make this a tad more bearable. So off went Tengen and Rengoku to do some snooping around as you gathered intel with the boar-headed boy.

A light knock at the door to your room interrupted your thoughts.

Softly, you called, "Come in."

When Rengoku slid open the shoji door, you blinked in shock . Instantly, you hopped up from your seat at the vanity. Strange that he was here even though you agreed to meet for a report tomorrow. Yet by the look on his face, something was on his mind. Quickly, you trotted to his side, urgently closing the door before turning to him. Gladly, you would listen to Rengoku's troubles. Without thought, you grabbed his hands in your own.

"Kyojuro, what are you doing here? Did something happen?"

For a split second, he did not respond as his striking eyes took a moment to gaze upon the beguiling disguise that adorned you. Then, those beautiful fire-like eyes flickered to meet yours.

He smiled gently, running his thumbs over the backs of your hands once, "Nothing at all! I came to check and see if you were alright."

A pause stilled the air. You could feel your cheeks heat slightly, and you snickered. Was he serious right now? You were a Hashira too - one of the strongest members of the corps just like he was. Even if Rengoku had become a Hashira years earlier than you, you were still just as strong. Plus, you were Tengen's tsugoku a while back, so Rengoku knew you were trained well and by someone he respected. It was not like him to worry like this.

"Why?" you shook your head - realizing that sounded kind of rude, "I mean, I'm fine! You know I can take care of myself."

"I know, but… I just had to make sure."

His eyes said otherwise. Something was bothering him. The relationship between you two allowed you to understand each other deeply and emotionally. After all, you had been close friends for years. Together, you had been through a lot. There was never anything that prevented you from speaking your mind in front of him because he truly respected you - mind, body, and soul.

A warm smile graced your lips at the sweet gesture. A slight flush heated up your cheeks. You looked down. The honorable Flame Hashira holding the hands of the lovely Hashira-turned-oiran. It warmed your heart knowing he was comfortable enough to do this. Rengoku could be very protective when it came to you, so it made sense that the possibility of being with other men in this district bothered him greatly. He just hid it well. Really, he did not have to worry.

But thanks to Tengen's flashy ideas, you were an oiran for the next few days. An oiran. Rengoku - just knowing him - probably was not accustomed to women of this caliber.

"Are you sure you're not here for… something else?" You asked with lidded eyes. Slowly, you moved your hands to brush up against Rengoku's chest as his face blossomed into a blush.

"Uh, n-no! No, I-"

You tilted your head to the side with a grin.

"Just messing with you! I appreciate your concern, but really… I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

The Hashira was stiff for a few seconds in recovery from your bold teasing. What a cruel joke, and he played right into your hands. After another moment, Rengoku softened his gaze. His parted lips turned into a smile.

"Very well! Just let me know if you ever need me, my beautiful oiran. I'll be close."

His beautiful…? Was that a slip of the tongue? It couldn't be because Rengoku was not someone who made mistakes. You shook off your flustered state, taking your focus back to the mission. You had to make sure everyone would be safe. So when the Flame Hashira began to walk off, you realized you wanted to protect him too from anything. Even if he was strong. Ah, perhaps that's what he was conveying earlier. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed the fabric of his uniform. Your fingers curled around his arm.

"Wait!"

He froze before the door could even slide open. Gently, he turned towards you with a look of surprise. Using all your strength to muster up the courage for what you would say next, you simply stared at the ground and bit your bottom lip. Rengoku could sense something was not right much like you did earlier for him.

"Tell me what's wrong." he instantly uttered out in a low, protective tone.

A pause.

And then you broke out into laughter.

"I can't let you leave looking like that!" you grinned widely.

Kyojuro's brow twitched in surprise at the sudden change in your mood. He seemed amused.

"Oh? Like what?"

Still holding onto his arm, you tugged gently at it. He was captivated as you pulled him close to your body, following your movements about the room.

"People will get suspicious. Come on, you have to look the part!" you danced over to the vanity, searching for lipstick. Once you found it, you ran it over your lips a few times, puckering them in the mirror.

Then, you turned to Rengoku who simply blinked at you.

"I… don't understand. Please tell me what you mean!"

There was a blush at this cheeks. The color complimented his sweet eyes. You hummed while walking over to him. Still smiling sweetly, you ran your hands over his shoulders.

"Do you trust me?" your hands froze once they reached his neck.

Rengoku looked at your lips for some time before he darted his eyes to meet yours.

"Of course I do!"

"Good boy."

Before Rengoku could even speak, your hands grabbed at the collar of his uniform, ripping it open to pop a few buttons off. Rengoku's breath hitched in his chest, and he seemed to gasp - that is, before he stopped himself as you exposed his neck and part of his chest by running your manicured hands underneath the cloth and over his skin.

"Please forgive me!"

With your hands at his collar again, you pulled him in and slammed your mouth to his neck. His eyes widened as you held him for a few seconds, then you breathily released him with a pop of your lips. A swollen, light bruise plus a bright, red lipstick stamp of your mouth was now evident on his neck. Rengoku was stunned. You grinned sheepishly before pulling the Flame Hashira in again, smothering his face with kisses over and over - then all the way down his neck and part of his chest. Once done with your work of art, you pulled away to leave Rengoku completely frozen in place before he broke out into a goofy, lopsided smile. He was blushing profusely. Had he ever been kissed like that before? Had you ever kissed anyone like that before?

"There." you smoothed the uniform at this chest, smiling proudly, "All for the mission."

"Yes! For the mission!" he repeated, but there was something in his tone when he uttered those words and a smirk upon his face. You gingerly let go of his uniform, apologizing for making a mess out of him - blushing as you kept staring at his lips. Did you cross a line with Rengoku? Hopefully not. But as you kept focusing on those gorgeous lips of his, you felt butterflies in your stomach. It was the only part you didn't kiss because Rengoku was your friend. You couldn't possibly test this friendship further. You would never want to do that.

The sound of his voice brought you back to earth, and his hand upon your cheek grounded you. He leaned in to touch his forehead to yours.

"You really are a tease," Rengoku whispered, eyes becoming lidded, "and you always have been."

Time seemed to have stopped as you both stood there momentarily, just gazing into each other's eyes. His hand was so hot - it felt like it was setting your entire being on fire. You froze in place while clutching your hands to your chest. Just fixated on his glowing eyes. He certainly made a flustering mess of you. It seemed Rengoku knew how flustered you were, and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

He smiled so widely that his eyes closed. "Well, I shall be going now!"

What a shame. He was leaving already when you both only wanted more. Although, neither of you dared to say it outloud because you were just friends. This made you both all the more foolish.

"Uh, y-yes!" you dumbly responded, eyes still sparkling from this intimate moment. At how unexpectedly sexy Rengoku was. At how flirtatious he was. You followed the Hashira to the door as he placed his hand on it. He paused and looked to you one more time.

"There is… one more thing." he murmured.

"Of course! What is it?"

"If I may be so bold… you missed a spot."

Your eyes widened. No, he couldn't be! He wasn't referring to his lips, was he?

Was he!?

Because he seemed distracted enough by all the bites and kisses all over him, you were hoping he had forgotten about that little detail. Well, actually - you weren't hoping that at all. But this was so unexpected! Oh gosh, and kissing him? Rengoku? On the mouth? Oh yes, that would be amazing, but wait, right now? You broke out into a sweat.

"Um… come again?"

"Apologies, but won't it look rather suspicious that the only part of me you haven't kissed is my lips?"

By the look on your face, shocked eyes and parted lips, not responding to his question at all - Rengoku twitched nervously. Perhaps he asked too much of you! And instantly, he bowed.

"I apologize! I should have never suggested such a thing! That was inappropriate of me to even-"

"It's okay!"

He froze this time.

"It's okay. I don't mind. It's… all for the mission, right?" you bashfully smiled.

After a brief pause, Rengoku whispered, "Yes. All for the mission." And so you stepped forward, placing your hands on his shoulders. He leaned in, and you leaned in all the while both of you uttered apologies and whatnot for moving so slow, for pretty much any stupid little thing that didn't even need an apology. Stuttering voices, trembling hands, flushed cheeks - really, what a sight to behold as two confident, adult hashira were fumbling around in nervousness. Allowing this little moment to crumble their defenses.

Quickly, you pressed your lips against each other's, and you both parted. The red lipstick painted a pretty picture of your mouth that was once on Rengoku's. This was not the ideal moment in which you wanted to kiss for the first time, and you wished you could have made it last a bit longer, but you were friends. Just friends. At least you got to taste him if just for a little bit. Seeming as neither of you two made a movement, Rengoku responded first to ease the silence.

"I'll come again tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, Kyojuro."

All for the mission.

Stupid.

Rengoku did come back the next evening for he always kept his word. He insisted it was just to check in and make sure you were safe. You told him everything was perfect and that no one had bothered you all day. In fact, Rengoku appeared nightly, and every night he reminded you to mark him up to your heart's content.

Including his sweet mouth.

Oh, because it was for the sake of the mission! To protect you both, obviously! Nothing more. Who were you to deny him? He was the expert here on missions and had been a Hashira longer. Happily, you agreed. Yet how much fun it was, how good it felt, but all for the sake of work and protecting one another. The low giggles, the flirty whispers - all of it so tantalizingly sweet and left you burning for more. So this display of unkempt clothes, disheveled hair, and kissing repeated itself every night. No matter how naive you both might have been.

However, one particular night was quite worrisome. Rengoku appeared at your door as usual, and you swiftly pulled him in - detailing him right away of some potential rumors Inosuke heard. You were so frazzled by the intel that you were quickly scooting Rengoku out of the room in a hurry.

"I'll get more information, just please be safe! Inosuke and I will meet with Tengen later! I wish I could have done more, but I'm working on it!"

His feet skidded across the floor as he tried to stop you from pushing him. You slid the door open, pushed him abruptly into the hall, and were about to slam it shut but Rengoku whipped around and caught it in his hand. He then grabbed your arm quickly in turn. You gasped in surprise at the way his hand needily grasped at your skin. The door slid shut behind him so quickly as he pushed you back into the room.

Rengoku pulled you to him so roughly that you nearly bounced off his chest from the impact. His arms around your waist kept you steady as he clutched your body close. Your face was on fire as you locked eyes - a look of something ignited in his, a look of arousal in yours. Your fingers gripped his uniform tightly at the chest. Before you could speak, Rengoku slammed his mouth against yours. You let out a squeak. Rengoku's one hand was in your hair while the other arm was so strongly, tightly wrapped around your waist. You froze in shock, but then you melted because god, you needed him badly. This was different than the other times you two had messed around and innocently kissed - though it was not innocent in the least. Rengoku had never embraced you so desperately before. After a few seconds, he pulled away. You stared at him with wide, frazzled eyes.

Rengoku grinned, "Oh! Apologies! You know… we just need to look the part! All for the sake of the mission! You nearly forgot."

"Yes!" you yelped with a stupid, lovestruck smile, "The mission!"

The mission?

The mission?

Fuck the mission.

What about that kiss!?

That was not like the quick pecks from before! Because Rengoku did that with feeling. You couldn't pretend anymore! You wanted more, you wanted him, and you always wanted him. For as long as you could remember. But you never did anything because he was just a friend, and you were frightened that that friendship may be ruined. Did he… want you just as badly? Oh, but this was all wrong. It was not the way you wanted to woo him. This had been pushed on for far too long now to solely be considered something two friends did.

Rengoku quickly excused himself for the evening and bid you good night as you stood there, frozen and hot and bothered. Snapping out of it, you reached for his wrist. When the Flame Hashira turned to you with concerned eyes, you gripped his wrist tighter between your hands.

"Stay!"

There was such a needy tone in your voice, but you didn't care how embarrassing it was. You already made a fool of yourself every single night with these lies - kissing just for the mission? What was that crap?

"Please? For me." you begged. Your voice was wavering, a slight crack to it as you cleared your throat. It seemed you were about to cry, and it was not something you did often in front of him. His eyes pulsed at the pleading look you gave him. Rengoku did not hesitate in the slightest.

"Of course. I'm always here for you."

Again, he joined you in your room. It was wonderful that he did, but now that you had gotten to this point… you both were unsure of what to do next. Just like the first night, you were holding his hands in your own - just staring into his eyes while frowning, blinking again and again to stop tears from falling.

Rengoku's breath hitched in his chest at the sight. No. He couldn't stand seeing you like this, on the verge of tears and all. Something was making you sad. And even worse, for a split second, he thought - did he cause this? He would never allow it. Another moment of reflection and Rengoku was certain what to do next.

"This is foolish."

You blinked, "I… Oh… what is?"

He cradled your face in his hands gently after you sniffed, an attempt at trying to choke back tears. It was such a soft hold, and you craved that longing touch from such a gentle soul like Rengoku. Only Rengoku could ever do. He ran his thumbs somewhat roughly over your cheeks, smearing any makeup upon your face.

"This disguise. Everything. It's foolish! I'm sorry Tengen came up with such a ridiculous idea. I'm sorry he threw you into this." he smiled gently, and you blinked when he removed a hand from your face.

Lips pursed in thought, he titled his head to the side and hummed at you with lidded eyes. His tongue poked out between his lips, and he brought his thumb to them. He licked his thumb, then ran it slowly over your own lips. An attempt at washing away the lipstick with his own saliva. You whimpered at the touch. The gesture was so incredibly hot and watching him with those gorgeous eyes made it even hotter.

Your heart thumped in your chest especially when his hands moved to your hair. He gracefully took out any pins or accessories, and although such a simple act, it was so intimate. Letting your hair cascade down your face, you blushed when you tilted your head downward to just stare at his chest. When Rengoku was done, he softly placed the hair accessories at your vanity. He glided back to you, holding your face so sweetly in his hands once again.

"Seeing you like this, all dressed up and with this make-up… as tempting as it is, I find you much more beautiful without it."

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks. Rengoku's lips parted in deep thought, and he looked at you with such adoration in his beautiful eyes. You laid your hands against his chest as your face heated up. His hands moved down your arms to wrap around your waist. Your eyes became lidded, and his expression soon mirrored yours as you both slowly leaned in. He paused and ran a single finger over your lips.

"I won't be able to control myself much longer." he breathed. "Please, I need you to kiss me."

"Is… is it for the mission?"

"No. It's because I would like you to."

You grinned while stroking the side of his face, "Well, good. Because I definitely want to."

With that, he closed the gap between your mouths. Your eyes shut immediately when his soft, perfect lips pressed against yours. A simple, gentle kiss - but when you let out a moan against his mouth, Rengoku's arms tightened around your waist to increase the friction between your bodies. Your hands shot up to grab his hair, deepening the kiss as your mouths began to slowly move against one another's, leaving gentle smacking sounds to fill the air. He groaned once your tongue ran along his bottom lip, and in turn he gently bit down on it. You heart was thundering in your ribcage when you pulled away, only to find the Flame Hashira smirking.

"May I stay even longer?"

A chuckle escaped past your lips. You did not even care how ridiculous your expression was or how ridiculous the half-smeared makeup on your face must have looked.

"You can stay as long as you want."

And you leaned in again to lock lips, throwing you arms around each other. His mouth moved so quickly and desperately against your own, letting out small groans between your whines of pleasure. You pressed your body closer to his, hips grinding needily against his own. Your tongue danced across his bottom lip again, into his mouth, before he lifted you up by your thighs to wrap them around his waist and seated you at the vanity, knocking over anything in the process when your bottom slid across the surface. Mouths still connected, Rengoku's hand parted your thighs further, and you moaned when one skillful hand brushed up the inner length of your thigh underneath your kimono. Swiftly, you grabbed his other hand and placed it atop your breast, but Rengoku immediately pulled back. Your eyes snapped open to meet his, and he was blushing profusely at the sight of you two - hot and bothered and needy. You threw your hands off him.

You flushed, "I-I'm sorry! Is everything okay?"

Rengoku took a moment to steady his breath, and he leaned in with a smile on his face. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't do this. Not here, not like this." he spoke between pants, and you stroked his cheek with your hand.

A blush appeared on your face again. With a determined look in his eyes, and his usual confident smile, he gripped your hand between his own.

"Please wait for me! Wait until after this mission is over, and I can take you on a proper date!"

"Kyojuro, I -"

"Well, well, well." Tengen smirked, who was seated at the edge of your window.

Rengoku and you peeled yourself off each other, scrambling to look decent as you both turned to see the sound hashira. When did he arrive? How long was he there? Ugh, he was always like this! It drove you nuts when you were a tsuguko.

"I've been waiting for you two to get together for forever now!"

"How long have you been here!?"

"Not important." Tengen shrugged his shoulders, "I'm disappointed I caught you two goofing off when we should be working." he smirked again, and you arched a brow at this.

Because the way Tengen said that made it seem like he wanted this to happen. As his former student, you knew him well.

"But I can overlook it because," his eyes became lidded, "this was all a part of my flashy plan. Though I wasn't expecting this to happen so soon. Way to go, pupil!"

"TENGEN. I AM A HASHIRA. NOT YOUR STUDENT ANYMORE."

Rengoku let out a roar of a laugh at your flustered state. He waltzed right over to Tengen and slapped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"How embarrassing for us! I am utterly ashamed! Apologies, Tengen! It won't happen again!"

You groaned in defeat. Of course Rengoku would laugh it off. The two Hashira turned toward you, both smiling and quickly getting over whatever this was.

"Ah, and I heard something interesting, Rengoku!"

Tengen readjusted himself at the window, "I heard our stunning courtesan here wasn't getting any calls, so I wondered why and went snooping around."

"O-Oh, did you now!?" Rengoku blurted out.

"Yes, and you'll never believe what I heard!" Tengen smirked wickedly, "I heard from the owner that every night, a gentleman of yellow and red hair drops a pouch of coins onto the desk asking for our sweetheart here. The owner said this man's exact words were: 'This should be more than enough to cover her. No one shall have her. She's mine.' Wanna tell us about that, Rengoku?"

His face was on fire as Tengen smiled sweetly. Not a care in the world from the Sound Hashira. You cupped a hand to your mouth to stifle your giggles, grinning innocently at Rengoku's reddening blush.

Well.

Tengen could be reliable as much as he drove you crazy.

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 10: The Pain of Morality

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

You and Steven agree to meet after class in his office. Things get a little out of hand.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.

Word Count: 4.4k

Steven: For the record I wish I could buy you a coffee for class.

Steven: Do you think someone would think that was weird?

Steven: I’m just gonna do it.

Steven: If anyone says anything we can just make something up.

Steven: Nevermind please ignore me. S’probably not a good idea.

You smiled down at your phone while you imagined the mental back and forth Steven must’ve done in the morning while trying to decide whether or not he should get you a coffee. Despite the fact that he couldn’t get it for you, your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness of his texts. You wondered how often Steven was thinking about you. One thing was for sure, you were always thinking about him.

You: Don’t stress about it. See you in a bit!

You: <3

Steven: Meet in my office after class? Forget your knickers. Can you wear that skirt I like? :) <3

You sent him a thumbs up before finally getting all your things together and heading out the door. A love-struck smile took over your face while you walked to the lecture building. You had a skip in your step, unable to stop thinking about Steven and the weekend you’d spent together. You wondered when the next time you’d be able to get alone time with him again. Not only were you plagued by the nagging need between your legs, you also just wanted to be in his presence without a care of who might see you.

You’d worn the skirt he’d asked you to wear, despite the chill in the air. Not wearing any panties to class was also a little bold, but you meant it when you told Steven you’d do anything for him. You felt so connected, like nothing else mattered to you. All you wanted was to be around him as much as possible, and give him anything you could to make him look at you with that gaze of longing you craved.

“So we’re clear?” Marc asked, looking at Steven through the reflection of his paperweight.

“I’m gettin’ so tired of having to tell you the same thing over and over mate. I’m not breakin’ up with her. You can pester me all you like, but she’s staying.” He protested, typing on his laptop as though he weren’t bothered by the words Marc was saying.

“Steven…” He took his glasses off his face and slammed them on his desk in frustration. One of the lenses popped out.

“Look what you’ve done.” He grumbled, holding the lens up to the frame, unable to pop it back in easily “gonna need to make an eye appointment now, damn it. Would you just piss off already?”

“I don’t need to tell you why this is dangerous Steven. You’re going to get us killed. If they find out about her, she might get hurt too. You’re putting everyone in danger and-”

Marc continued talking but Steven heard nothing when he saw you walk through the doors to the classroom. There you were, breathtaking as ever, wearing exactly what he’d asked you to wear. He wondered if you really did leave your panties behind. He gulped harshly, lips parting while he stared.

There was that look he always gave you, like his entire world stopped moving. Steven tucked the curl that normally sat in front of his face away so he could look at you better. It took everything in you not to run to him and let your body melt into his right then and there. If not for the other students starting to file in behind you, you might’ve stolen a kiss or two.

He made it impossible to focus, being as effortlessly attractive as he tended to be. He fell into rhythm, pacing back and forth slowly while discussing the topic from the textbook you hadn’t studied enough of. The more he talked, the more you wished his mouth was working over your cunt, forcing you to arch your back and scream his name into his apartment. At some point he wiped his lips, and all you could think about were his thick fingers pumping in and out of your hole, stretching you out.

He looked at you, and you saw a smile form over his lips, unable to contain the way you made him feel. He kept talking to the class, not skipping a beat, but you noticed his cheeks turning several shades of red every time your eyes met.

Class felt like it lasted forever. You’d been thinking about all the things you and Steven would do once you were alone in his office. You were feeling needy, desperate, and you were sure you were dripping down your thigh by the time Steven finally ended the lecture. You had to stop yourself from flat out running to his office. When you got there, you closed the door behind you quickly. You dropped your bags before practically throwing yourself at him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“Thought you were gonna be talking about–” he interrupted you sassing him with a kiss, “Queen Mary forever.”

Steven’s tongue tangled with yours in his heated desperation. He stole your breath, one kiss at a time. He groaned deeply as he parted from you for air.

“Queen Elizabeth.” He corrected you.

“Mmm,” you moaned into his mouth when you went back in for more.

He tasted so good you wanted to devour him. You pushed Steven back against the desk. He reached under your skirt and started circling his fingers around your clit, wasting no time finding it. You gasped, closing your eyes while resting your forehead against his chest.. He pressed some gentle kisses against your temple, the tenderness causing your stomach to swoop on top of your heady desire. You rolled your hips into his fingers further, desperate for more friction.

“Feeling needy today, love?” He asked, lips moving against your ear now.

“Yes-mmm-yes.”

You lifted your head again to meet his gaze. He leaned back against the desk and removed his hand from your cunt so you could straddle his knee. Steven kissed you again, deeper this time, reaching up to cup the back of your neck and pull you in tight.

You started grinding on his thigh, groaning into him with every pass of his lips over yours. You tipped your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to suck on, drawing more soft whimpers from your lips. You grabbed on to his shirt tightly, rutting forward over his leg, feeling the brush of the fabric against your sensitive clit.

“Oh, Steven,” you whined in his ear.

“Yes, love, does that feel good?”

You nodded, “mm…mhm”

“Good. Can feel you soaking through my slacks, use me however you want, dove. Take what you need,” and he meant every word, wanting nothing more than to hear his name fall from your lips when you finally came undone.

He continued sucking on your neck, reaching his hands under your skirt to squeeze your rear tightly, helping you slide over his thigh faster. You wished you could fuck him, right there and then, but you knew it was too risky in his office, especially with how loud the both of you were. You reached up and grabbed the back of his curly head tight while keeping your other hand gripping his shirt. Steven moaned into your throat, churning his hips lightly against you. You felt how hard he was, how hungry his movements were to get inside of you again.

“Mm, can’t wait to have you again, are you free this weekend?” Steven was almost growling in between his words.

“Yes…of course, I’ll be there.”

He wanted you so badly. Steven’s fingers were leaving divots in your ass cheeks, holding onto you tightly, helping you move faster against him. He loved the way your heat felt on his leg while you dragged your pussy lips over the fabric of his pants. Your skin tasted so sweet under his tongue as he continued leaving sloppy kisses over your neck. Your throat vibrated in a low moan.

“I’m so close,” you whispered softly, “then I want to taste you, Steven.”

Steven’s breath caught in his throat. He stopped kissing your neck to cup your cheeks and force you to look in his widened eyes.

“Y-you want to…love, do you mean…you want to put it in your…” Steven’s body trembled with excitement.

“Wanna know what you taste like.”

And then Steven’s lips were crashing into yours again, you were almost there, the tingling was washing over your body in a colossal wave–

The heels came in rapidly, so fast that you hardly had time to register Steven’s quick moves. You could only gasp as he pushed you back. The handle on the door behind you turned and you pulled your skirt down fast. Steven’s face was panicked as he scrambled to the other side of his desk, sitting down quickly.

“Steven your hair!” You hissed in a whisper, noticing what a mess you’d made of it.

“Stevie!” 

Donna, the dean of the university, walked into the room like a storm.

Steven didn’t like Donna. She’d hired him for the position, but made it abundantly clear to him and everyone else that he was the only candidate. Based on her constant attitude, he assumed that she didn't like him. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was late for the interview, or if it was because she was just a tough woman to get along with, but she clearly had a chip on her shoulder with him from the start. It also didn’t help that she called him Stevie the entire time, despite him correcting her over and over.

“I’m going around to all the…” She trailed off when she turned and noticed you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you’ve got…happenin’ in here.”

She looked you up and down. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Did she think something was suspicious about you being in there? Surely not. It wasn’t weird for a student to be in their professor’s office, especially since you had on record that he was a tutor for you, all she had to do was look it up. Maybe having the door closed was a red flag, and maybe your hair was a little disheveled, but there was nothing to suggest you were doing…what you were doing.

Steven felt all his blood run cold. ‘Whatever you’ve got happenin’ in here,’ she’d said. 

She knew…it was so obvious that she could tell something was happening between you and him before she walked in. He saw her look you up and down, making a face of disgust. The panic was starting to set into his bones, his leg bouncing under his desk. 

Donna always makes that face, Steven told himself.

But this time it was different. This time…Marc’s fears were being realized before Steven’s very eyes. Marc had warned him on several occasions that if they were caught, it could mean their death. Earlier, before you’d walked into class, Marc reminded Steven that you were at risk if something went south too. This stupid affair could get you hurt.

Steven looked at you, and you looked back at him helplessly. His lips pressed into a thin line when he finally realized what he needed to do, his heart dropping into his stomach. He never should’ve slept with you. Marc was right. He never should’ve crossed that line, never should have asked you to watch Gus, never should’ve brought you into their fucked up life. This was all his fault. Now he had to suffer the consequences and drag you down with him.

“This is it, Steven. You’ve been caught, what are you going to do now? Hm?” Marc’s tone held a self-righteous air that Steven didn’t appreciate, though he deserved it.

“Donna, we were just discussing the paper due on Wednesday that I’ve assigned in my class. What can I help you with?” Steven was trying to divert the conversation away from you.

“Just going around to all the departments and checkin’ in. I can come back.”

She kept looking over at you, and then back to Steven. Even if she didn’t think something was actually happening, she certainly was acting like she was suspicious of you being there. You gulped deeply, turning your eyes to Steven again. You felt the anxiety catching in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Yeah, yeah that would be great. I’ll come to your office this afternoon.” Steven said with a friendly smile.

“Sounds like a plan, Stevie, I leave at five.” She looked you up and down one more time before leaving the room.

You let out a huge sigh of relief followed by a nervous laugh. You ran your hands over your face and shook your head, looking over at Steven who was just staring blankly at the glass paperweight on his desk. What you didn’t see, was the one-sided conversation happening in Steven’s reflection.

“That was too close. I know you don’t want to do it, Steven, I know, and I’m so sorry.” Marc was being sincere, and Steven could feel that. Marc did feel bad for him. “I know you care about her, but that’s why it’s time to let it go now, before it gets worse. The longer you keep this going the harder and more dangerous–”

“Steven.” You said, seeing him look up at you with glistening eyes. “You okay? I was talking to you.”

Steven was looking at you and thinking about how you had no idea that your world was about to shatter around you. There was still time for him to let it go and keep pretending like nothing was wrong. If Donna did suspect something, and this affair went public…

He would rather leave you with a broken heart than see you dead.

“I-I’m sorry I was just…just thinking about…” He gulped, standing up and pressing his palm against the desk to stabilize himself. He looked at the wooden surface, clearly averting his gaze from yours.

He would rather walk over a mile of hot coals than say what he needed to say.

“Yeah, that was close. We’ll just have to be more careful next time. Can’t believe-”

“No, love, no.” Steven looked right at you now.

You watched a tear fall down his cheek, he wiped it away quickly. 

“We can’t have a next time.”

Your body seized in place. Your feet stepped forward, despite your voice getting stuck in your throat. You replayed his words in your head as if you hadn’t heard him clearly. Can’t have a next time. Immediately your bottom lip began to quiver. This couldn’t be real. Surely, you’d misheard what he said. You’d both known that this was a risk, that was why you avoided it before giving up on fighting the gravitational force pulling you towards each other. Was he really running away in fear over almost getting caught once?

“W-what do you…Steven, what are you saying?” You felt tears threatening your own eyes. He couldn’t be saying what you thought he was saying. .

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He pressed his lips together tightly, “please.” Steven’s face broke into a sob. “We can’t do this anymore.”

“Steven, where is this coming from? We knew this was risky when we started!” You got closer to him, desperate to get to him, but he put up a hand in protest. Lowering your voice to a desperate whisper, you pleaded with him. “Don’t…don’t do this. We can be more careful next time, we–”

“No, you have to go.” He said firmly, “You have to go, and you have to forget about me. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, and I never should’ve dragged you into this.”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m a kid? I’m twenty-one years old, I chose to do this, you can’t–”

“Yes I can!” Steven shouted at you for the first time since you’d known him. “You don’t know a thing about me. I’m not the man you think I am.”

The room was filled with a silence that tore through your soul. You had nothing to say to that, and frankly, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to talk to him after he yelled at you. Several emotions played out on Steven’s face before he finally looked away from you, and you could tell there was no more negotiating with him. He was right, you didn’t know anything about him. You knew that he was a history professor, that he was from London, and that he liked literature and art. You’d always felt like Steven was hiding something based on the way he didn’t want you at his apartment in the beginning, and you hadn’t forgotten how short he was when you tried to talk to him about his brothers.

Since you could see that this wasn’t going to end well, you went for a final stab, a last attempt to make him feel guilty for doing what he did to you; for taking what he took from you.

“You know, you should be fucking disgusted with yourself.” You started crying despite your desire to appear strong. “I gave you everything.” You grabbed your bags. “Is this what you do? Jump from college to college fucking your virgin students? Or just the stupid ones?”

“I’m sorry.”

You huffed on your way out the door on shaky legs, not taking another look at him. You slammed the door behind yourself harshly, half wishing the entire building would collapse around it. For good measure, you kicked it and then rushed down the hall to get to your dorm. You had to get away before anyone saw what a mess you were leaving his office.

Steven quickly ran to the door, locking it before turning and sliding his back against it, dropping to the floor in a slump. Nothing had ever hurt like this. Even when Steven found out he was part of a system within Marc’s mind, he hadn’t been this upset. This felt like his chest was caving in, like it was hard for his lungs to function. He simply wished he could pass out so he didn’t have to feel the heartbreak. He started sobbing noisily, letting out pained wails that Jake nor Marc had ever heard from him.

Your words had stung. Those final remarks you’d made in your pained anger, though petty, had twisted the knife in his self-inflicted wound. Steven didn’t blame you, you had every right to be mad. In fact, if you’d walked up and struck him, he probably would’ve understood.

Marc started stirring around restlessly, but he approached Steven like a big brother would a younger one. He’d never intended for Steven to get hurt, or you for that matter. He only wanted to protect the three of them, and make sure that they could survive in this new life they made. Marc and Jake had worked everything out so perfectly, and then you’d come along and swept Steven right off his feet, screwing up the whole thing.

“I know that was tough Steven, but you did the right thing,” Marc said in a gentle tone.

Jake remained quiet, but Steven could feel him there, present just below the surface.

“I can’t do this. I can’t teach here anymore. I’m gonna see her everywhere I go. Oh God…I took her…I took her innocence from her not two days ago! Marc…” Steven started breathing heavily, clutching his chest tightly. “I think I’m gonna have a panic attack.”

“You’re not going to have a panic attack, you’ll be alright, just breathe through it.”

“No, no Marc, I really hurt her. Did you see…” he took a labored breath, “did you see the look on her f-face? I broke her heart. We have to go somewhere else, I can’t ever look at her again, I might die. I have to get a new job.”

“You’re not going to die, and you can’t just leave your job, alright? It’s a good job, Steven. We had to work really hard to get you in here. You didn’t exactly…earn your PhD.” Steven started hyperventilating, “I don’t wanna sound like a jerk but, if you’d just done what I said from the start–”

“No, no, no Marc, no!” Steven stood up and started pacing, wringing his hands in front of him, “you think I didn’t know the entire time that what I was doing was wrong? ‘Course I knew! I just…” Steven stopped and looked out of the only window in the room down to the courtyard below. “I think I love her, Marc.”

The voice in Steven’s head stopped while Steven broke down again into another flurry of tears and sniffles that he couldn’t control. Marc knew Steven loved you, he could feel it seeping into the crevices of their mind. Saying the words I love her out loud was what broke Steven to a point that even Marc was worried they may never see him again.

When Marc came to the front, something he hadn’t experienced in weeks, he took a deep breath before wiping the tears from his eyes. He still felt the damp spot on Steven’s pants from where you’d been grinding on him before Donna interrupted. Marc wished more than anything that it hadn’t come to this, but he was back in control again, and he was going to have to clean up Steven’s mess until he came back.

Marc looked at his own reflection in the paperweight, and he only saw Jake staring back.

“I can’t feel him.”

“I know…but he always comes back. We just have to wait.”

----

If there was ever a good time to use your sick days at school, it was while you were curled up in your bed emptying box after box of kleenex. You felt pathetic, crying endlessly over Steven, but he’d hurt you more than you could form into words. Virginity was one of those things that you only had one rule for…give it to someone you love. You didn’t care about waiting for marriage, but you wanted to wait for the right one, and you thought you had.

When Layla asked you what was wrong, you were grateful that she was respectful enough of your boundaries not to press when you told her you didn’t want to talk about it. In truth, Layla probably was someone you could trust with this. You’d been roommates since your first year, and you were good friends. She’d kept secrets for you before, but not one of this caliber.

The thought crossed your mind to tell the dean the truth. You thought about going to her and letting her know that Steven had taken advantage of you. It wasn’t all his fault, you’d been very persistent, but a part of you, the part that felt angry, wanted to make him suffer the way you were suffering. Making him lose his career might be satisfying, but you knew that feeling would only be temporary, and you’d end up feeling guilty before long. Not to mention, you recalled reading that students could also be held liable for their inappropriate actions. You were an adult after all. You’d made your choice to sleep with your professor, and now you had to live with that.

You spent the next day in and out of sleep, waking up only to hear his words replay in your mind, and crying yourself back to sleep. You pulled out your phone on Wednesday morning.

You: Can we please talk? I can’t accept that this is over. Not after this weekend.

You had sent that on Monday after going back to your dorm. He didn’t answer. You don’t know what compelled you to go to class that morning. You thought perhaps it was the small part of you that hoped Steven would see you and completely change his mind, realizing that he was wrong. You also wanted him to see your tearstained face and feel guilty for what he’d done, but when you steeled yourself and walked through the classroom door, he wasn’t there.

You should feel relieved. You should be glad that he didn’t want to show his face after what he did. But you weren’t. One of the other history professors was able to cover the class on Steven’s behalf. You felt a pit settle in your stomach. Was he missing class because of you? The only thing this told you was that Steven was a coward and a pig; only intent on sleeping with you and then dropping you like you were nothing.

So why did you still feel like he was something? Why were you still thinking about all the times his face softened when he saw you, into the most loving gaze anyone had ever shown you? The way he always treated you like you were so important, taking you on a date to the art gallery and stuttering when you said sweet nothings that took him off guard. Something wasn’t adding up in your mind. The way he had treated you all this time didn’t add up to someone who just wanted to fuck you and dump you right after.

But that’s what he’d done.

By some miracle, you held yourself together for the day, getting through your classes. You weren’t completely free of tears, and you’d had to go to the bathroom a few times to wipe your tears, fix your makeup and go back, but you made it. That was the important thing.

It was dark when you walked back to your dorm that night. You recalled the times that Steven had walked back with you, and you’d never felt so alone. 

You weren’t alone though. There was a stern set of eyes that watched your every step, making sure you made it back in one piece. When he saw you get inside safely, a satisfied smile spread over his face. He would make sure you were safe whenever he could, despite knowing Marc would prefer they all pretended you never existed.

Jake could never forget you existed. He wasn’t able to get you out of his head, even if Steven had cast you aside. Jake knew how to keep a secret, and he intended to keep you. He would make sure you wouldn’t lose yourself to the pain Steven had caused.

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[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 2:

Acting On Your Best Behaviour Ch 4:

Summary:

They'd seen it in their fellow orphans often enough to recognise the pattern and were now forced to admit, despite their hopes to the contrary, that Isidora had likely suffered similar side effects.

No… they'd always known she had. The Keeper had just wanted the power that Ranrok had, enough to convince themselves that they would be able to handle it better than that naive woman.

With the start of the Keeper’s sixth-year in Hogwarts, comes a whole slew of headache-inducing challenges from the most unexpected of places. Between insignificant pests throwing wrenches into their plans and tedious teenage drama, that the Keeper is entirely unprepared for, they wonder if they'll make it to their NEWTs without losing their sanity.

Or worse, Ominis or Sebastian.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Quite a lot of vulgarities?

Boy am I glad I told ya’ll I was going to take a three week break, because I was ridiculously busy during those three weeks. I barely got one and a half chapter written- it should hopefully be calmer for me this week and maybe I’ll actually have time to write…

"Class dismissed." Professor Weasley smiled as she returned to her desk.

The Keeper sighed, shoving their Transfiguration textbook into their satchel. The day had barely begun, and already they were feeling worn out as they followed Ominis out of the classroom.

Fuck.

They really messed up last night. How could they have lost control like that? By the time they'd gotten a grip on themselves, the jar they were holding had been depleted by nearly half its contents.

Horrified by their own actions, the Keeper had sworn to themselves that it wouldn't happen again. Honestly, the thought that their self-control had slipped so badly, and they hadn’t even realised it, was terrifying. What is wrong with me?

With only half a jar left, they probably shouldn't take any more for at least a week. They would need to ration out the energy as long as they could. The Keeper bit back a groan, not wanting to worry Ominis as they made their way towards the great hall for lunch after Herbology.

What the Keeper wouldn't give to be able to go to the Room of Requirement and smash some furniture. Maybe they could at least smash the pots at the bottom of the staircase to the Slytherin common room later. Everyone always kicked those by accident anyway, no one would think anything of it.

If nothing else, at least their mind hadn't been this clear since school started. They still weren't quite up to their usual standards, but the Keeper had to admit that the fog in their brain had cleared, enough for them to actually hear themselves think at least.

"Professor Sharp? Do you need something, sir?"

The Keeper paused as Ominis spoke beside them, drawn out of their thoughts and frustration, as the Professor approached them.

"Not from you, Mr Gaunt." Professor Sharp shook his head, turning to face the Keeper instead. "A word, if you will?"

"Of course, Professor." The Keeper replied quickly, pushing down the burst of anxiety that twisted their stomach. What now?

"Go on ahead Ominis, I'll join you later." The Keeper added, placing a hand on Ominis shoulder briefly, before following Sharp to a spot where they could speak outside the flow of traffic.

Ominis lingered, uncertain if he should stay nearby and wait, despite the Keeper's words. He was worried about them, and about what the professor needed from them, they didn't need even more problems on top of everything.

He'd thought the rest yesterday had done them some good, the Keeper had seemed less absentminded and distracted today, but they'd also been fidgeting far worse than they had for all of last week. Combined.

His partner had been walking around with a charged atmosphere that made Ominis uncertain of what to do or what to say to them. He'd never felt so useless and awkward, at least with Sebastian he'd understood what was upsetting him.

Ominis knew something was up with the Keeper. Something they weren't telling him. He'd been waiting for them to come clean with Sebastian and himself when they were ready, but if this got any worse… He had a feeling that things could get dangerous.

Perhaps he should press the Keeper harder for a proper explanation…

He didn't want to fight with them about it, but neither he nor Sebastian could help if the Keeper refused to be honest with them. Truthfully, that also stung, they were lovers, weren't they?

He was so tired of people he loved keeping secrets from him, putting themselves in danger without caring about how he felt.

Ominis paused, re-examining the thought, but that wasn't quite true, now was it? The Keeper wasn't just keeping secrets from him, they were keeping secrets from everyone.

They'd told him and Sebastian so much already, such mind-blowing secrets the Keeper held. Why would he assume that they'd told him everything? That they wouldn't have even more Inferi in their closet?

The Keeper had never said that they would be relying on Sebastian and Ominis, it was always the Keeper who'd been the one being relied on. It'd been like this the whole time he'd known them. From helping Sebastian with his search for a cure for Anne, to supporting Sebastian when Ominis couldn’t, to keeping the nightmares away for the two of them.

Ominis had never seen the Keeper ask anyone for support, it was always the other way around. Sure, they'd ask for information or assistance with achieving a goal, but they'd never sought to confide in anyone. Even telling Sebastian and Ominis about their childhood abuse had been in honest answer to questioning, rather than the Keeper wilfully seeking comfort from them.

Perhaps the Keeper just wasn't used to asking for help?

He and Sebastian might have to take the initiative here this time, and he should probably speak with Sebastian about this first…

With that in mind, Ominis took a few steps towards the great hall, when he noticed something with his wand sight.

The bullies, who'd been stalking them since the classroom as usual, were abruptly walking in the opposite direction.

Ominis frowned, why would those wombats leave all of a sudden? A feeling of unease gripped him. What in Merlin's name were they up to?

Well, following his gut had rarely led him wrong. So, without hesitation, Ominis spun on his heel and pursued the stalkers.

Using his wand sight to keep them within "view", Ominis carefully trailed the two boys all the way to the Central Hall.

He frowned as they scurried down the stairs and took a left turn. Following quickly behind, he stopped to wait by the Statue of Gregory the Smarmy, as the boys travelled along the corridor to the Potions classroom.

Hearing the door close behind the two bullies, Ominis hurriedly made his way through the corridor as well, stopping behind the door to the Potions classroom this time. His eyebrows rose on his forehead as his wand sight showed the stupid boys standing before Professor Sharp's office door.

Tipping his head to the side, Ominis strained his ears and his eyes widened as he heard one of them whisper. "Alohomora."

Ominis wasn't sure which he was more surprised by, that those bumbling baboons were trying to break into the office of a Professor or that one of them could cast Alohomora in the first place.

Waiting for them to enter the office, Ominis slipped into the classroom as well and stopped beside the ajar office door, focusing on trying to hear any sounds that emerged.

"Have you checked behind the jars?"

"Are you stupid? Why would he keep legal documents on an ingredient shelf?"

"Hey, I'm just being thorough."

"We don't have time to be thorough, he'll be heading back here after lunch. We're already lucky as fuck to have more time thanks to his chat with the mudblood."

"Fine fine, got it. Merlin's balls, why does he have so many scrolls on the bloody floor."

"Anything useful in there?"

"Not yet, oh hey, my essay from last week!"

"Stay focused dimwit, we need to find that document with Sallow's signature or we won't have proof that something's up with that mudblood's guardianship transfer."

"Urgh, can't we just tell Sharp that no one's seen Sallow's uncle in Feldcroft all summer, despite that thing staying in his house?"

"No, you twit, girl gossip ain't evidence. If we can prove it's a forgery, it'll fuck 'em up way better, but we need that damn paper and another one with his signature on it or my dad's lawyer won't be able to prove that for me."

Ominis stiffened. That was not good. How did these idiots even figure that out!? If this got out, it wouldn't be the Keeper alone who'd get in trouble.

"How'd you get him to agree to that anyways?"

"Heh, caught him making out with me mum last year."

"That's fucked up, mate."

Deciding he'd heard enough, Ominis quietly left the classroom, closing the door behind him and sprinting towards the stairs. If he was lucky, Professor Sharp would still be speaking with the Keeper.

"What did you wish to speak about, Professor?" The Keeper asked politely, working to suppress their anxiety.

The teacher observed them for a few moments, lifting his chin slightly before speaking. "How have you been?"

What?

The Keeper blinked in some confusion, feeling even more wary of what this might be about. "...fine, sir?"

"Hm." Professor Sharp scrutinised them with narrowed eyes and folded his arms. "I've been having some concerns for you."

It took a fair amount of effort for the Keeper to reign in their physical reaction. Merlin, were they lucky the Professor had chosen to speak with them on a day when their brain was actually functioning.

"It has not escaped my notice that you've been having difficulties focusing in class." Sharp frowned, and while the Keeper felt like his words were reprimanding, his tone was oddly even and clear of irritation. "Both your classwork and assignments have suffered since the start of term."

"I've heard similar reports from the other professors." The man sighed, relaxing his arms, and leaning against the wall beside them to take weight off his bad leg. "If something is bothering you, or if taking seven NEWTs is too difficult for you to manage, it is perfectly fine to drop a class or two."

The Keeper found themselves bristling internally at the suggestion that they'd bitten off more than they could chew with their courses. They would have been 'perfectly fine' if they didn't have two fucking wrenches in their steam engine.

"You needn't worry about me Professor, I have just been… adjusting to school again." The Keeper gave a tight smile, doing their best to keep their wounded pride under wraps.

"Mhm." Sharp eyed them sceptically, his expression told them exactly how convinced he was. Which was clearly, not at all.

The Keeper felt a flash of impatience, as Professor Sharp hesitated for a few beats, before finally airing his thoughts. "Have you perhaps, been having a hard time due to a… lack of guidance, like that of which you had from Professor Fig?"

The Keeper stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment. What? Why would he bring up Fig all of a sudden? The change in topic was bizarre, and they wondered if Sharp was just throwing out random guesswork.

Though, they did suppose that all this nonsense might have been easier to deal with if Fig were here… The old man would probably be livid that they had been using Pain energy so much during the holidays, but it would have been nice to be able to seek his advice about dealing with those pesky stalkers.

Too late, the Keeper realised that they had been silent for far too long and Professor Sharp's brow had taken on a pitying crease. Disgusting.

The Keeper bit back their grimace, well, can't do anything about that now, might as well go along with his assumption. "I do miss Professor Fig, however, I can assure you that I have everything handled."

Professor Sharp sighed again. "If you were anyone else, I would not be concerned by a dip in performance at the start of Sixth year. The jump in subject difficulty is not insignificant."

"However, the drastic decrease in your performance is concerning." The professor continued, humming thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "I'd initially intended to simply ask that you consider dropping a subject to decrease your workload."

The Keeper frowned, what had they done to change his mind?

"But, I believe it might be better to speak with you more on this matter." Sharp straightened, and the Keeper struggled to swallow their groan. This was taking far too long already, they just wanted to go to lunch with their boys, having Sebastian and Ominis around always soothed their frayed nerves.

Professor Sharp gave them a small smile as he waved a hand in the direction of the Potions classroom. "Would you mind joining me in my office? I will have an elf bring us food and you may eat while we discuss."

What an absolute waste of time that would be. If you can’t convince me here, what makes you think a change of venue would?

The Keeper liked Professor Sharp well enough. He was a pragmatic man, and they respected him for his power and skill. As well as his level-headed leadership qualities, but he could keep his pity and ‘guidance’, the Keeper had no use for them.

Those would have been of more value to Sebastian two years ago than a 'talented' sixteen-year-old who was only showing some difficulties keeping up with the curriculum. These adults were so bad at gauging when they should intervene, versus when they should give a kid space to solve their own problems, the Keeper thought to themselves with some bitterness.

Plastering on a forced smile, the Keeper opened their mouth, intending to tell the professor where he could shove his invite. Politely, of course. When they were interrupted by the approach of a slightly breathless Ominis.

"I apologise for interrupting Professor, this will only take a moment." Ominis bowed his head politely.

Professor Sharp gave a long-suffering sigh but nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "Very well, Mr Gaunt."

Ominis then turned to the Keeper, and they wondered what he'd come back for. "I wanted to tell you that Sebastian and I won't be able to have lunch with you, Sebastian's uncle has asked us to help him catch the two rats who've been pestering us, they're apparently in his office at the moment. I hope you don't mind."

The Keeper blinked, Solomon's office? He definitely didn't have an office in the Feldcroft house, not to mention, he was dead. That left only the possibility that Ominis was trying to give them a coded hint.

"Of course, I'll see you guys after lunch in Defence then." The Keeper nodded, answering smoothly as they digested his words.

Two rats who'd been pestering us. The bullies, obviously. Catching the bullies in Solomon's office. Catching the bullies in an office… the Keeper’s eyes widened. Professor Sharp's office!

"Be sure to return within the hour, Mr Gaunt, you wouldn't want to lose house points for tardiness." Professor Sharp eyed Ominis sternly.

"Of course, Professor. I apologise again for the interruption." Ominis nodded respectfully.

As Ominis left, the Keeper turned back to Professor Sharp with a bright smile. "As I was about to say, Professor, I wouldn’t mind speaking further in your office, I suppose it would be more comfortable than the hallways."

The teacher nodded approvingly and began leading the way to the Potions classroom, where his office was located. The Keeper could barely contain their anticipation, hopefully they would reach the office in time to catch the buffoons in the act!

The walk was painfully slow, and it was even harder for the Keeper to stop themselves from rushing the limping teacher. It felt like ages since they'd had something vindictive to look forward to.

Finally, as they stepped through the open Potions classroom door, a sharp grin spread across the Keeper's face, at the rustling sound emerging from the office door. The door that was slightly ajar.

The professor stiffened beside the Keeper, and with a surprisingly swift movement, he jerked the office door open, his voice a low and dangerous growl. "I sincerely hope that the two of you realise how much trouble you're in."

The Keeper leaned forward, peering into the office behind Professor Sharp, and had to stifle a snicker at the identical looks of terror on the bullies' faces. The professor's normally stoic countenance must be truly terrifying, and the Keeper was mildly disappointed that they couldn't see it from behind him.

"Pro- Professor Sharp! T- this isn't what it looks like! We-" Selwyn stammered in alarm, dropping the parchment he'd been holding.

"If you think you can weasel your way out of this, I will be even more concerned for your intelligence than I already am." Professor Sharp's dry tone was laced with derision and the boys wisely clammed up. "I can assure you that the consequences of breaking into my office will be worse than a failed essay, Mr Selwyn."

"T- that's not- you can check! I haven't changed anything!" Selwyn spluttered, scrambling to pick up the parchment, freezing when he realised that the fact that he'd been holding it, was even more incriminating.

"W- well sir, we didn't break in, t- the door was open, and we were worried th-" Macnair started, when the professor flicked his wrist and the man's wand slipped from his sleeve into his hand.

"Priori Incantatem." Sharp pointed his wand at Macnair’s, across the room, causing it to reveal the boy's last cast spell. The Alohomora charm.

Shaking his head with a sigh, Professor Sharp lifted his chin, his voice disappointed. "Clearly, you are both liars who won't even take responsibility for your actions. The fact that you are here despite not even taking my class, Mr Macnair, is not convincing me that you aren't here to help your friend cheat. I expected more from students of my house."

The two boys wilted as the futility of their attempts to escape judgement sank in, forced to endure the scathing disappointment of their Head of House. All while the Keeper watched them get railed by the ex-auror in satisfaction.

As Selwyn lifted his eyes dejectedly, he spotted the Keeper standing behind the professor, and his eyes widened when they flashed him a mocking smirk. His face immediately turned red with anger.

"This is all your fault, isn't it, Mudblood!?" The brown-haired boy spat, unable to restrain himself, while Macnair's side-eyed his friend in alarm.

"Twenty points from Slytherin! I do not tolerate language like that between housemates." Professor Sharp snapped. "And I don't see how your own foolish actions can be blamed on your junior. If you are referring to my timely return, then I would have you know that it was I who invited them to my office."

For the first time since the Keeper met them, the two idiots made a wise decision and stayed silent. Seemingly reminded that the Keeper was still with him, Professor Sharp turned his head slightly to speak to them.

"I apologise but it seems like we'll have to postpone our talk while I deal with these two." The professor sighed. "You should still have enough time to grab a quick bite before classes resume."

The Keeper nodded their head in response. "No worries, Professor, I understand. I'll head to the great hall then."

The professor nodded and the Keeper slipped back out through the door, chuckling quietly to themselves. Well, that had certainly been worth burning most of their lunch break.

"Tempus." The Keeper murmured with a flick of their wand. Fifteen minutes, they'd have to get to the great hall as fast as they could if they wanted to have any food.

With a sigh, the Keeper picked up the pace, just shy of sprinting through the halls.

Panting slightly, they weaved through the trickle of students leaving the great hall, heading to their next classes, till they arrived at the large doors to the Great Hall. Slipping inside, they spotted Sebastian and Ominis speaking by the table, and hurriedly made their way over.

"You made it!" Sebastian grinned. "How was the show?"

"Satisfying, they looked like they were going to wet themselves." The Keeper smirked as they surveyed the remaining food on the table, searching for something they could eat very quickly.

Sebastian's grin stretched further. "You better show us that memory in the Undercroft pensive when we get the chance."

"Of course." The Keeper chuckled as they grabbed some bread, cheese, and turkey slices to put together a quick and simple sandwich.

"I was wondering if Sharp would still want to speak with you, but now you barely have time to eat. It'll be ages till dinner." Ominis' expression was somewhere between irritated at the professor and worried for the Keeper.

The Keeper laughed as they smushed the sandwich as flat as it could go. "You underestimate me. I had to eat fast when stealing food, couldn't afford to be caught with any of it, so I'm used to it."

The Keeper promptly demonstrated their point as they effectively crammed half of the sandwich into their mouth, chewed quickly and swallowed, chasing it down with a gulp of tea. In less than two minutes, the first sandwich was gone, and they began working on the second.

"Please don't tell me they're inhaling their food." Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, can't say anything then, now can I?" Sebastian replied distantly, uncertain if he was impressed or appalled at the way the Keeper was eating. "At the very least, I can say their swallowing techniques aren't limited to swallowing yo-."

"Sebastian! I swear if you finish that sentence-" Ominis exclaimed, smacking Sebastian in the shoulder with one hand and covering his face with the other, while his ears turned red. Thank Merlin the great hall was empty.

"Haa-" The Keeper sighed as they set down the cup of tea that they'd emptied to wash the two sandwiches down. "Alright, let's head to Defence. We can discuss the two idiots after dinner."

With a final slap on Sebastian's shoulder, Ominis trailed after the Keeper as they strode towards the door, followed by Sebastian and his cheeky grin.

"So, Ominis, what exactly happened while Professor Sharp was being nosy?" The Keeper asked in a low voice as they took a seat beside their blind partner in the Slytherin common room after dinner, while Sebastian sat on the couch opposite them.

"I noticed our stalkers leaving after the professor approached you." Ominis began.

"What did Sharp want to talk about anyway? You said he was being nosy?" Sebastian tipped his head to the side curiously.

The Keeper waved a hand dismissively. "Just some presumptions about my lack of focus being related to Fig's passing. Carry on, Ominis."

Sebastian gave them a scrutinising glance, and Ominis' features took on a concerned countenance but continued as requested.

"I decided to follow them, and thus witnessed them breaking into the office. I eavesdropped on their conversation for a bit and then went to find Sharp." Ominis flashed a wry grin at the Keeper. "I was rather relieved when I heard him invite you to his office, I wasn't sure I'd be able to come up with a way to get him to return in time to catch them."

"It was fortunate that you arrived when you did, I had been about to politely turn him down." The Keeper chuckled. "So, what did you overhear?"

"...that's…" Ominis trailed off, his jaw tightening and his eyes narrowing grimly. The Keeper frowned, they were getting a bad feeling about where this was going.

"They were looking for evidence that they could use to prove that we forged Solomon's signature for your custody transfer over the summer." Ominis’ words made the Keeper stiffen and Sebastian’s eyes widened.

"How- how could they-" Sebastian spluttered in shock.

Ominis shook his head, rubbing a hand over his forehead anxiously. "I don't know, they were looking for the letter from Solomon and any previous document with his signature for Macnair's lawyer to run tests on, saying girl gossip isn’t evidence."

“Girl gossip? What in Merlin’s name could that mean?” Sebastian echoed in bewilderment.

His words barely registered as the Keeper's mind raced. They'd found out. Somehow, someone had realised that something was abnormal with Solomon. If this got out… if those fucking morons managed to draw enough attention to initiate an investigation…

Sebastian…

They could lose Sebastian.

Like fuck I'll let that happen.

The Keeper's blood boiled. Up to this point, their stalkers had been a nuisance. Now, those two fools were a threat.

Anyone who tried to tear apart the paradise the Keeper was building, whether they realised it or not, would suffer the worst pain imaginable before death.

Still, how did the stalkers figure it out? The two boys hadn't made any sort of intelligent move until today. Which meant that something must have happened recently that caused them to recognise the irregularity.

The Keeper mentally backtracked, going over everything the bullies should have witnessed, searching for anything different from the last few days.

The most outstanding event was probably the visit to Feldcroft on Sunday. However, what could they possibly have notic-

The Keeper's eyes widened. Girl gossip? The twins. Hadn't those stupid boys had been talking about them with their twin girlfriends outside the Feldcroft house?

"Sebastian." The Keeper spoke, drawing his attention.

His eyes turned to them questioningly, hand stopping midway through its motion, leaving his fingers still threaded in his hair.

"You said that Solomon told your neighbour Mrs Ndiaye that he was going to be leaving the house to you." The Keeper continued and Sebastian frowned, lowering his hand.

"That's righ-" Sebastian started, cutting himself off as his eyes widened. "Merlin’s balls. She might have mentioned that to her daughters."

"And if they had told Selwyn and Macnair, even those idiots would have realised how unlikely it'd be for Sharp to release me into the custody of a man who wasn't going to be around for the entire summer." The Keeper grimaced.

We underestimated them.

Notes:

For comedic effect, please imagine the Keeper eating like Link from Breath of the Wild! xP

Also, can I just say that I hate coincidental plot advancement? Things like Harry Potter just "pure luck" stumbling into something inherently important or overhearing vital information. Like walking in on Snape threatening Quirrell or Snape and Karkaroff arguing about being Death Eaters. At least the thing with Slughorn had the excuse of a luck potion, what about every other time!?

I can accept some level of luck in fiction, like just barely making it in time for something, that makes it exciting, but when the whole situation is coincidental from start to finish, it breaks the immersion for me.

Here’s a cool piece of trivia, the reason there are three doors you have to go through to reach Professor Sharp’s office, is actually part of fireproofing building design! Since fires have a hard time travelling past doors.

[bunnakit]

Thank you so much for the link! (If there was more than the first 4 entries in the main post I couldn't read them because twitter is a hellscape I refuse to make an account to use for the sake of my sanity). But!!!!!!!! But that was more than enough HOLY SHIT. Like I know you mentioned Empty Box, but that was like the one song I don't have any misgivings about after hearing it on its own because it is the one that fits absolutely perfectly, (heart-breakingly,) with how I suspected the lore might go after they returned home to their own universe having been dragged through one side of the wringer and out the other. And! It! Does! That song plays my poor heart like a fiddle.

But for me I actually have the most misgivings about Blind and Shaboom. Because you can't just shout "open your eyes" and "wake up" on album after album and have that be one of your rallying cries and then put out a song called "Blind" and not have it light up a hundred giant neon warning signs in my brain. And then I read the lyrics while listening to it at work today and I was even more unsure about it because the cognitive dissonance between it and every other song they have that you could vaguely put in the 'love song' category, (where the reason they care about the subject of the song is because of who the subject is as a person, or who they are together or as a team,) just being dazzled and blindly following "someone" could not possibly seem more off to me. But hooooooooooly their context does not fail me. Because if the Queen of the Night they're chasing in the song is THEIR DREAMS that changes EVERYTHING.

If 'love is blind' WHEN YOU'RE FOLLOWING YOUR SOUL'S PASSION ajsfkajhga. My opinion: heel turn, 180.

(as someone who went through hell to get a degree in fine art drawing because art used to be the one thing I loved above all else, graduated, then needed to pay those adult bills, got a job in software tech, and then a case of burnout, and haven't drawn shit in the last 10+ years since because I spend every day exhausted from crunching numbers and variables uhhhh)

Shaboom, at face value as a 'party, get drunk, get laid' song? Me sending Extremely Skeptical Face in its direction because it just seems so vapid. You know, like settling for a life that pays your bills and puts a roof over your head while your dreams fall farther and farther away for the sake of practicality and you make some pretty dubious choices in trying to avoid having to address the soullessness of reality. ha ha ha

Oh. Oh. This one is coming for my throat, isn't it? I might need that three weeks until my copy of the album shows up to just prepare for the reading rest of it.

Like I expected them to come for me, but not PERSONALLY. fuck

RIGHT??? RIGHT?! IT HURTS, IT HURTS, IT HURTS, KIM HONGJOONG I'M FUCKING COMING FOR YOU!

this link might work for the other 4 entries?

shaboom has BIG mingi's story vibes and GOD. GOD. THEY KILL IT EVERY FUCKING TIME MAN. they way that they're realizing that while some of them achieved their dreams they aren't any more happy than they were before because they don't have each other!

it had me absolutely sobbing when i realized what happened because my god, that really is what happens as you get older and it hurts so much to see it spelled out so blatantly. the commentary on all the different stages of life and growth and maturing, i can't fucking do this man

really, really excited to see where this goes, excited to see what yunho and mingi are up to. part of me is like 👀 halazia time??? go to halazia world with an artifact yunho finds??? for me??? but i know i'll be thrilled with almost anything they deliver

(and at least the z boys can continue to live in my heart via my fanfic)

[sevengraces]

Self Sabotage v. Found Family

ch1, ch2, ch3, YOU, ch5, title card

AO3 Link

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Nothing stays hidden for long, especially when someone so desperately wants to be known.

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Hullo! I haven't forgotten about you all, enjoy TW's: Crying Emotional conversations Vaguely dubious consent (they push Tech to talk about it after he has shut down, but he does want to) Mild swearing Touch starvation That should be everything, let me know if I missed something though!!

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Chapter 4: Sometimes Love Is Being Dragged Kicking and Screaming Towards Hope

    Tommy shook his head, “No it isn’t. Why can’t you just say it?”

    Technoblade chewed his lip for a moment, “Please, just don’t tell anyone how old I am, okay? You don’t hafta’ do anything else alright?”

    “That isn’t an answer Techno! Come on, what do you want, not what do you think we’ll agree to or what’s easiest.” Tommy snapped.

    “No, no, I’m not going to! You don’t have any right to know, and I’m not stupid enough to offer a weakness while knowing it won’t get me anything anyways!” He forced out, yanking a hand through his hair anxiously. “I won’t get it anyway so please stop asking, okay? It’s fine and I know that alright. You’ve got what you want alright? I’m begging, I’m pleading. Don’t make me. Please don’t make me. The mighty Blade, begging like a child. You win okay? You’ve done what no one else could. Please stop asking!”

    Chat cooed,

    Poor runt

    It’s okay, you’re fine

    L

    C’mon it isn’t like that.

    It’s okay that you want it

    Tubbo moved forward slowly, stopping just a foot in front of the distressed boy. “Hey listen, s’alright, you’re okay. Nothing is the matter okay? Nobody is in danger. We want to give you what you want, alright? That’s it, no ulterior motive, no trap, and no trick. Could I give you a hug?”

    Techno bit back the growing desire to cry and stifled the urge to hide, “No, no, no I don’t- just stop, okay? Please?” he whined out, shoving his face into his knees.

    Niki cooed quietly, “C’mon, s’alright. If you don’t want one you don’t have to. You’re okay Tech.”

    “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Tubbo asked from his spot a foot in front of him.

    The boy choked down his sobs, “I don’t, I can’t do it! S’ not safe, I know. I know what I get! I know what I’m g-good at. Please jus’ stop pretendin’ now. Tell me what you want and let me go.”

    Wilbur rubbed his face and moved closer to the silently sobbing child, “Okay, breath in Technoblade. C’mon, I can’t have any ally choking to death. Breath in with me.” he shoved Tubbo away gently and sat in his spot. “Alright, alright. Look at me Technoblade, I need you to look at me alright? Good, good, that’ll work. Follow my breathing, in and out, in and out.”

    Techno stared at the man and mimicked him until his breathing slowed then after a long pause; “M’fine now.”

    Niki moved to speak but Tommy cut her off, “Alright, you’re fine now.”

    Wilbur nodded at the boy gratefully before turning to look at Techno again. “I need you to tell me what caused that.” he asked bluntly.

    Tubbo tried to protest at his tone but Techno ignored him and instead answered Wilbur in an empty monotone. “Nobody talks to me like that.”

    “Right, that makes sense, our bad.” Wilbur replied, nodding.

    Tubbo finally got a word in, “What do you mean? Nobody’s nice?”

    Technoblade stiffened, “Nobody’s soft with me.”

    “Oh,” Niki whispered in understanding, “right. Technoblade can you answer us now?”

     Techno deflated, “Can’t ya tell by now, isn’ it painfully obvious?”

    “Do you want us to guess?” Tubbo asked hesitantly.

    The boy laughed tiredly, “Sure, absolutely.”

    “To do what you were doing before we found out?” Tommy asked immediately.

    He shook his head hesitantly as he resigned himself to the situation.

    “Freedom?” Niki chimed in.

    “I mean I don’t want to be in jail.” he snickered drily, “But no.”

    Wilbur leaned back, “Technoblade?”

    “Hmm?”

    “Do you know how your instincts work?”

    “Mostly?” he answered cautiously.

    “Right, of course. Do you know why you got clingy for three days?” Wilbur continued with a sigh.

    “Pheromones? Depression? I don’t know.” Techno answered blithely.

    Wilbur exhaled heavily, “No, not pheromones. Depression probably didn’t help but that wasn’t the reason. Kids need to be held, it’s important to growing and shit. Our hybrid instincts brain is more uhm, willing, to take care of baser desires. For kids it’s being held and hugged and doted on.”

    Technoblade held deathly still and did not look up from his lap.

    “It is instinctual for you to seek comfort. But you didn’t have any so your brain stopped asking. A healthy child doesn’t do what you did, and if you had regular contact and affection you wouldn’t do that. I never lost myself like that growing up, because I never had a reason to.” Wilbur looked at the boy. “What do you want Tech?”

    He breathed weakly and tried to stop his shaking. “Tha’s cruel ta’ joke about, please just stop. I know what I get to have.”

    Tommy pulled Niki and Tubbo into a hug as they held their breath.

    “I don’t think you do know that, is the thing.” Wilbur sat up straight. “Do you want a hug, Techno?”

    Technoblade shuddered in place and barely managed a slow, hesitant nod.

    Wilbur pulled the boy into his lap and rested his head against him. “There you go.” he muttered, wrapping his arm around the younger's back and running a hand through his hair.

    Niki tightened her grip on the other boys and let out a watery laugh.

    Techno tucked his head under Wilbur’s chin and hid there for a long moment. “I- ‘M not gonna be all soft m’kay?” he interrupted himself with a quiet purr, “S’ just not what ‘m like. Yo- you don’t wan’ me all the time.”

    Wilbur shook his head and held him tighter. “Nobody wants anyone all the time. But we’ll care about you all the time mate, that’s the point. Ya don’t have to be all cuddly and needy, s’fine. You’re just allowed to be when you are, and you’re allowed to stick around when you aren’t.”

    Tommy cheered and yanked himself out of Niki’s arms, tumbling into Technoblade and Wilbur. “Fuck yeah! You’re the youngest now and we’re keeping you!”

    Technoblade laughed wetly, “Fuck off.” he muttered with no malice.

    Tubbo and Niki shot forward too, wrapping themselves around everyone.

    “You’re the middle child now Tommy, rest in peace.” Tubbo goaded.

    Niki laughed as Tommy gasped dramatically, then she whispered to Techno, “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll figure it out.”

[ticklishbeans4]

Time To Unwind

Hey y’all! I have been writing this for a hot minute lmao, and I’m pretty happy with how it came out! So I hope you enjoy! :3

It was certainly a change for her. Suddenly going from a mother of one to a mother of six. But she was handling it pretty well all things considered! Willow really helped with her grocery bill by growing plants in the garden, none of the kids were too messy and were all mostly well behaved so she didn’t have to worry too much about replacing anything broken. Aside from the occasional floor board when Willow got spooked, or a vase or window when the kids' games got too rough. Then coupons and some extra shifts at the clinic helped with everything else, as well as selling some of the extra produce from the garden on the side. It was a big change, but it was one she could handle.

Something she was having trouble handling though, was the oldest of the bunch. Hunter. He was a sweet boy! She could tell that easily! He cared deeply for the other kids, was always the first to defend them if something came up, he was always the first to volunteer for chores, he and that bird of his were adorable together. But…. well… he was so formal with her. It was kinda freaking her out.

He always called her “Miss.Noceda” , always had perfect posture, she could see how he tensed when she came in the room, always spoke with perfect diction and was just… Well he acted more like a new employee trying to impress the scary boss, than like a teenage boy. She wished he’d loosen up a little around her… Luz had told her a bit about what he’d gone through before coming here, when he lived with that pendejo Belos. So she knew it was likely just a trauma thing… Still, she wished she knew how to help.

She was just finishing up on washing the dishes when he came into the room, his bird on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice her at first, too busy talking to… Flapjack! That was his name! Too busy talking to Flapjack to be aware, he was relaxed, shoulders slack, ears slightly drooping, an easy smile on his face. She smiled and didn’t immediately say something, scared to break the spell over the boy.

“Exactly! Wolves don’t actually have alphas! It’s just-” he stopped, finally noticing Camilla. She frowned softly as he went rigid again, shoulders squared, ears perked, his smile tighter. “Miss.Noceda! I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

She waved a hand, smiling at him. “No worries, it’s fine. You were talking about wolves hm? Beautiful creatures, great parents.”

“They are! Did you know, a wolf's howl can be heard up to 10 kilometers away!” he brightened,

“Really? That’s amazing! What else?” Yes! She was getting somewhere!

“A wolf can swim up to 8 miles! And they can… can… uh…” the brief light she saw dimmed and he shook his head, “No, no I’m sorry, I’m probably bothering you. I don’t mean to distract you from your task. I’ll go.”

Noooooooo! “No no! It’s ok! I like learning about wolves!” she assured, gesturing for him to sit. “Why don’t you tell me more while I make dinner?”

He looked dubious, but obeyed, sitting at the table. “Do you require any help with dinner?”

She smiled and shook her head, “No I’ve got it. Thank you for asking though. Now, you were saying?”

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt sleeve, “Uh… wolf pups are born with blue eyes, they turn yellow by the time they’re 8 months old.”

“Really? That’s so cool! I didn’t know that!” she encouraged, she genuinely hadn’t known that fact, and it was pretty cool.

He rubbed his arm, looking at the floor, “I… i-it’s ok Miss.Noceda, you don’t have to indulge me. I know I kinda ramble sometimes and it’s pretty annoying so-”

She held up a hand with a gentle smile, “Hunter. You’re not annoying, and I love seeing you so passionate about something. I also love learning about wolves, they’re beautiful, caring, and highly misunderstood creatures. So you can “ramble” about them all you like, I won’t find it annoying. I promise.”

Poor thing looked absolutely shell shocked, “You… you really don’t mind? I mean… genuinely?”

“Genuinely. I don’t mind one bit.” She smiled, putting a warm hand on his shoulder, silently celebrating when he didn’t seem to mind. “Really I love it when one of you kids comes to me to talk about something you’re passionate about! It’s good to see you so happy.”

He flushed, fiddling with his sleeve. “Oh uh… I… Thank you. Miss.Noceda.”

“You can just call me Camilla. I don’t mind.” she gently corrected, patting his shoulder and pulling away.

He nodded, still fiddling with his sleeve. “Ok… Camilla.”

She smiled at him, he was still tense of course, but progress was progress. Flapjack seemed a bit irritated though, pecking his cheek and chirping at him. Camilla sometimes wished she knew what those little creatures were saying… If only to know why Hunter suddenly seemed pouty.

“I am not stuck up!” Oh never mind, context clues and all.

Flapjack chirped back, flying in front of Hunter’s face and twittering at him. Hunter rolled his eyes in response, “Oh here we go again with the haircut. Look, I’m sorry you can’t pull my hair when I’m “being dumb” anymore. But I’m NOT being dumb right now! You’re being dumb!”

Camilla barely held back a snort at the angry chirping that followed, as well as Hunter's utterly aghast face. She briefly wondered if birds had their own swears…

But suddenly the bird got a devious glint in his eyes, and both Camilla and Hunter were surprised when he dove into the teens shirt. The poor kid looked terrified, but… not in a genuinely scared way. More like the scared someone gets when they’re on a roller coaster. An excited kind of scared.

“W-wait! Flapjack! Don’t you dare! Not here! Not in front of her.” he pleaded, a grin forming on his face, as well a light blush.

The little lump under Hunter’s shirt began wiggling around, chirping and cooing. The teen gasped and gripped the table, biting his lip and squirming. “N-no! Flapjack! Th-thihis is so unf-fair!”

Camilla could only look on in bewildered amusement as the little wiggly lump moved about under Hunter's shirt, nuzzling and jostling about, chirping quite happily. Hunter was doubled over, the biggest grin she’d ever seen from the boy plastered on his face, his blush reaching the tips of his ears. It was an adorable sight.

“F-flahahap! Stahahap!” he squeaked out, feet kicking a bit. “Plehehease!”

He did not, in fact, stop. Instead the little thing climbed up his side, pausing right at his underarm. Hunter froze, still grinning and giggling. “Flap… think about it… don’t.”

A little chirp was the only warning given as a sudden flurry of movement came from under Hunter's shirt. Camilla could only imagine just what Flapjack was doing, it likely involved a lot of feathers and gentle pecking. But it proved to be terribly effective on the poor boy.

“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHE!” he immediately squealed, shooting up, arm slightly raised so as not to squish his friend. “NOHOHOHO! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

Oh gosh this was too cute. Camilla was half tempted to record it, but figured Hunter wouldn’t exactly appreciate that, so she refrained and sipped her tea. “You know, I had no idea you were ticklish. It’s pretty adorable, I’ll admit.”

He shook his head rapidly, “N-NAHAHAT CUTE!”

“Agree to disagree.” she smirked, “I wonder if the others know…”

He nodded, squealing and squeaking too much to speak.

“They do huh? And no one told me? I’ve been trying to help you relax since you first got here! If I’d known you were ticklish… well it might have made this easier.” she chuckled, not that she would actually do anything without his express permission. But it was fun to tease.

Flapjack's flurried attack slowed as he moved down back to Hunter's belly. The teen calmed as well and he looked at Camilla in surprise. “Y-you hahahave?”

“Yes, I have. You’re still a growing boy, and you deserve to loosen up and have some fun.” she smiled, “I want you to enjoy your time here, even if your means of getting here weren’t ideal.”

He giggled and fiddled with his shirt sleeves. “Thahahank you Miss… uh… Thank you, Camillahaha.”

“Of course mi pequeño guerrero.” she chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. He leaned a bit into her hand. She felt her heart melt, this felt like the start to something wonderful.

[monstersqueen]

CAiL to TMA, episode 169 (s05e09) - Fire Escape

...you know, if ‘she burned jon’s hand’ is a valid enough reason to make a detour to go smite jude specifically, i don’t see why ‘martin’s jealous’ wouldn’t be enough to kill oliver when they happen upon his domain. martin might wonder about that actually. also, it is also close as a reasoning to ‘you were annoying and i didn’t like you so i hurt you’ and i’d like everyone to take two minutes to remember the last time someone hurt them because you were annoying. i mean i’m sure we’ve all internalized since then the ‘well i WAS annoying and TOO STUPID to get it so of course they HAD TO hurt me to make me stop. if they got some satisfaction out of it well!! it was well deserved to have to PUT UP with me‘ - jon certainly has. anyway

....i am so not okay with that statement but you know what. i’m more okay with it than with the asides development so. maybe i should try not to think about tma for one week. or two maybe/ might do me some good to wait a little before coming back.

[tennessoui]

You know one of my favorite Star Wars fic tropes? Evil, feral Anakin being horribly mistreated his whole life and hurt, and then being comforted and nursed back to health by Obi-Wan. And instantly imprinting on him, like, in a "I will kill anyone for you" way. Could be any Obi-Wan! Nice Obi-Wan for that sweet sweet hurt/comfort and kisses and turning Anakin from his murderous ways with the power of kindness! Evil Obi-Wan for sweet double trouble action and delicious obsession with each other!!

this is also one of my favorite star wars tropes!!! i love a needlessly protective and feral Anakin who distrusts everyone except for Obi-Wan.

unfortunately. um. this went a little sideways. and there is no being nursed back to health. but there's some delicious obsession and protectiveness and also future mutual obsession so i'm counting the prompt fill as like 3.5 out of 5 stars for following the prompt, which is. let's be honest, higher than most of my prompt fills. this is a bit dark and contains references to mind tricks, but there is no sex or kissing that could be construed as dub con. just like. dub con emotions i guess

(2.2k)

Quinlan has that look in his eyes, as if he’s about to say something that he knows Obi-Wan won’t like.

Carefully, Obi-Wan puts down his cup of tea and laces together his fingers in his lap. He can already feel a seed of anger blooming inside of him. Since Anakin has re-entered his life and the Temple, he’s found that this deep, swirling rage is harder to give to the Force. And easier to feel at a moment’s notice.

Like almost all the differences in his life now, this can be put on Anakin through no fault of the boy’s own.

After all, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, it is much easier to feel this sort of fury at the galaxy’s injustices when living with someone who has suffered most all of the most grievous kinds.

“Just say it, Quinlan.” Obi-Wan says.

Vos clears his throat. “Where is...your charge?”

“My charge,” he repeats, unimpressed. “You know his name.”

“I know both of his names,” Quinlan fires back. “Does he prefer Anakin or Vader?”

The anger inside of him grows larger at the mention of Vader. As if Anakin would ever prefer the name Sidious gave to him. As if he had chosen it for himself.

As if the Jedi had played no part in the birth of Vader.

“Anakin is asleep,” is all Obi-Wan says.

Quinlan makes a show of peering down the hallway of Obi-Wan’s quarters to the two closed bedroom doors. “In whose bed?”

His hands tighten into fists beneath the table. “That is a bold accusation to make.”

“Why?” his old friend’s posture is forcibly casual, slumped in his seat and hand loosely wrapped around his cup. Obi-Wan wonders if this is how he looks when he’s undercover on missions. The thought settles heavily into his stomach and makes him sit up straighter. If this is a mission to Quinlan Vos, then what is his objective? What does he want with Obi-Wan?

With Anakin?

“The boy’s legally allowed to spread his legs for anyone he wants, Obi-Wan. He's nineteen and everything.”

Obi-Wan can feel his teeth grind together. The fury in his chest is building at an alarmingly fast rate. The thought of anyone touching Anakin like that when the boy’s so obviously traumatized and in need of a tender hand--if he were a lesser Jedi, he’d snarl at Vos to leave.

“Any consent Anakin offers anyone would be dubious at best,” he snaps. “He is nineteen, but he has spent the past ten years of his life being tortured and enslaved by Darth Sidious.”

Quinlan narrows his eyes and looks over Obi-Wan’s face. “That’s not your fault,” he finally says quietly, leaning forward as if to grip his arm before he thinks better of it. “Obi-Wan, listen to me. What happened to Anakin is tragic. Awful. Despicable. But it is not your fault.”

Obi-Wan looks away, his jaw clenched tightly before he forces himself to relax. “I only blame myself for not verifying what I was told.”

“Do you blame the Jedi Council then? For sending the boy away?”

“My master begged me to train the boy, Vos. And while I was in the Halls of Healing, they sent him back to Tatooine. And no one ever checked to make sure he got there. Sidious grabbed him because we--because they allowed him to. And then spent ten years torturing and breaking down a child right under our very noses! Who would you blame, Vos?”

“Sidious,” the other man answers easily. “The Council had no way of knowing that Sidious even knew about the boy, that he was in any danger at all--”

“He was nine!” Obi-Wan roars, slamming a fist on the table, unable to swallow the dark, heavy fury anymore. “He was a child. A slave! They were going to send him back there!”

“To his mother!”

“To his chains,” Obi-Wan corrects fiercely.

Vos purses his lips and crosses his arms. “He is not a child anymore, Obi-Wan. He’s a killer. He’s dangerous. It’s worrying to me that you can’t see it. Or don’t want to see it.”

Obi-Wan wants to scoff. Anakin Skywalker is not dangerous. The boy gets night terrors, begs to be let into Obi-Wan’s bed, and can only sleep if he’s being cuddled up against his chest. He holds his blasted hand in public because he’s terrified of being separated from Obi-Wan again. He’s refused to even touch his lightsaber since the first night Obi-Wan stumbled upon him, bleeding in one of the lower levels of Coruscant. There are some days he won’t even let Obi-Wan touch him to hold him, and he shakes apart in the shadowy corner of his closet, reliving traumas Obi-Wan can’t help him with.

Dangerous. Dangerous.

“No, Obi-Wan, come on. You have to see. The boy’s turning you against the Jedi, against the Council!” “He doesn't need to," Obi-Wan says coldly. "The Jedi seem to be doing a fine job of that themselve."

“That's what I'm talking about!” Vos exclaims, waving an incensed hand. “The Obi-Wan Kenobi I knew would never say that! He would never think a bad thing about the Order, let alone say it! Let alone threaten to leave in the middle of a war if the Council didn’t grant him permission to keep the boy in his rooms! People talk, Obi-Wan! They’re not being kind!”

A thought bubbles up in Obi-Wan’s mind, vicious and sharp. Obi-Wan should not expect kindness from the Jedi. Not about Anakin. Everything they’ve ever done to and said about the boy proves that. Obi-Wan would have to abandon Anakin again to ensure the Council’s kindness and trust in him.

Obi-Wan would rather die than abandon the boy now when he needs him so obviously. He’d rather Fall than turn his back on Anakin, even if that’s what it took to stay in the Order.

“I think you should leave, Vos,” Obi-Wan murmurs quietly. “I think there is little left to say.”

His old friend stares at him from across the table in shock before he stands up without another word. At the door to his quarters, he freezes but doesn’t turn around. “You are attached, Obi-Wan. The Jedi Council will not stand for it. They will not allow it to continue.”

There’s something off with his voice, but Obi-Wan is too concerned with what he’s said to focus on anything else. “What do you mean?” he asks sharply, springing to his feet.

But Vos just shakes his head and leaves.

Obi-Wan collapses back into his seat as the door slides shut behind the man, his head buzzing with thoughts. That had sounded like a warning. Would the Council be so bold, so cruel, as to separate Obi-Wan and Anakin forcefully?

Yes, the thought flashes across his mind, followed by a swell of fury.

And then there’s a sleepy little questioning tug on the bond stretching between him and Anakin. His charge must have just woken up and found Obi-Wan still missing.

Obi-Wan tugs back, helpless against the urge to comfort Anakin. The bond explodes in a tidal wave of joy, the way it always does when Obi-Wan uses their illicit connection to communicate. He hadn’t in the early days, too afraid of the Council and the Code to do something so forbidden.

Now he cannot seem to muster enough regard for the Jedi to care. It is nice to feel Anakin in his mind, where he belongs. Where he’s always belonged.

---

In the bedroom that Obi-Wan keeps on insisting is not theirs, Vader allows his eyes to open as he slips out of meditation. He had been too forceful there at the end with Vos, fed him the exact words he needed him to tell his new master.

That sort of mind trick is too sloppy and easily discovered. It is much harder to trace emotional manipulation, especially over time. He’s been doing it for months now, the Jedis’ mental shields no match for his raw power trained to be sharp as a vibroblade.

It’s all just been a matter of slowly strengthening the other Jedis’ already existing mistrust and doubt about him, all the while crying to Obi-Wan about his past and his fears. It served to highlight the Jedi hypocrisy to his new master, and when he felt that first seed of anger grow in Kenobi’s mind, he encouraged it to grow faster.

The downside, of course, has been that Obi-Wan sees him as a scared child in need of protection. Vader is working on that too though, lengthening the touches they share and letting his shields fall at inopportune moments, like when he’s playing with himself in the fresher, so his master understands that Vader is capable of bringing him pleasure of all kinds.

It’s very important Obi-Wan understands that he can get everything he needs from Vader alone. There will be no one else, for either of them.

Sidious will die soon. The Jedi will die sooner. Vader and Obi-Wan can take their proper place, as Emperors of the Galaxy.

After Obi-Wan falls, of course.

It won’t take long now though.

Joy at the thought of one day looking into Obi-Wan’s golden eyes pushes Vader out of their bed and into the common area. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand a few times, and then it’s Anakin who’s crossing the space separating him from his master so he can settle in Obi-Wan’s lap.

Obi-Wan accepts him into his arms immediately, and Anakin has to fight the urge to smile in victory as he squirms in an attempt to get comfortable, only stopping when he’s straddling his master, sitting directly over his cock.

He wraps his arms around his master’s neck and buries his face in the juncture between his shoulder and throat.

Feeling daring, he licks slightly at the skin there, just to feel the way Obi-Wan’s hands tighten on his hips. “Missed you,” he murmurs, inhaling greedily.

Nothing in the entire universe smells as good as Obi-Wan, holds Anakin as gently as Obi-Wan, cares as much about him as Obi-Wan does.

He’d kill everyone in the galaxy for his master, if it was asked of him. He wouldn’t even think twice about it. And one day, soon, his master will feel the same.

Especially when his pesky Order has been dealt with, an execution order stamped with Sidious’ name. The only good thing his old master has ever given him.

The Jedi will die, Anakin will be blameless, and Obi-Wan will be safe from harm’s way. That’s why he’d had to push Vos so messily at the end there. Obi-Wan needs to be safe before the planned Order #66, and there’s no telling what Sidious will do now that Anakin has escaped.

“I heard voices,” he prompts, when Obi-Wan seems content to just sit silently and trace shapes on the bare skin of his back.

Obi-Wan hums. “Yes,” he admits. “An...old friend came to visit.”

Anakin bites gently at the skin of Obi-Wan’s throat and pulls back enough to make eye contact. He doesn’t know if his eyes are blue or gold right now, but either way Obi-Wan seems entranced by them. Riveted.

He pouts. “Your old friends never stay around long enough to meet me,” he says with a tremble in his voice, as if he cares about Obi-Wan’s old friends.

Obi-Wan reaches a hand up and thumbs over Anakin’s bottom lip. Anakin holds his breath. It’ll ruin everything if he sucks at it right now, despite how much he’s craving to map the whorls with his tongue.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathes out, and Anakin changes his grasp so he’s now holding tightly to the front of his robes. “I must tell you something you may not want to hear.”

The Dark inside of him roars and snarls at this statement. If Obi-Wan has decided to make him leave, Anakin will not go quietly. Anakin will kill the entire Jedi Order himself, until this glowing angel--so warm, so bright in the Force--only has him.

“The Council will try to take you away from me,” his master murmurs.

Anakin makes his eyes go round and wet. It’s not even that much of an act: he just has to think of Obi-Wan agreeing with his stupid Council, and suddenly he’s appropriately tearful and afraid.

“No, no, Anakin, don’t cry,” his master croons, grasping the back of his neck and touching their foreheads together. Then, in a firmer tone, he says the words Anakin has been waiting to here for months. “I will not let that happen. We must leave the Order. I’m sorry, dear one. I can only imagine how much you wanted this place to be your home.”

Anakin has to rip his head out of Obi-Wan’s grasp and bury it in his neck so his dear master can’t see his smirk. Oh, Obi-Wan. The man may never understand that the only thing Anakin wants is already holding him tightly against his chest.

But Anakin will remind him. Anakin will remind him for the rest of his life.

“When do we leave?” Anakin whimpers, wondering if he’s overdoing it slightly, but Obi-Wan’s grip on his back only tightens.

When Obi-Wan speaks, his voice doesn’t waver at all. There’s not a single shred of indecision in his force signature either. “Tonight,” his master says, brushing a barely there kiss against the crown of his head. “We leave tonight.”

Vader smiles in bliss and burrows impossibly further into his master’s arms, nipping at his master’s skin again, just because he knows he will not be pushed away. This is the safest place in the galaxy, and now it will be his forever.

Victory tastes sweet. Obi-Wan’s skin tastes even sweeter.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 314: ...Or You Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain

Previously on BnHA: Some random assholes were all “let’s throw exploding spears at All Might and see if it activates his Conqueror’s Haki” and SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS, IT DID!! Elsewhere, Lady Nagant confusingly tried to capture Deku alive by shooting him in the stomach, but to be fair I guess that’s what happens when you send an assassin to do a bounty hunter’s job, so yeah. Deku was all “ouch”, and then because this is a shounen he basically just straight up forgot about it, and did a big fancy Smokescreen thing, and then activated his mildly incomprehensible new ki-blasting quirk which he got from the Third. En and the Third were all “hey Deku maybe let’s not just impulsively activate all this shit in the heat of battle when you don’t know how to use it yet and you’re already injured,” and Deku was all “thanks for the quirks guys but I’ll take it from here” and snuck up on Nagant and grabbed her arm and so now what’s going to happen I wonder.

Today on BnHA: Nagant is all “[shoots Deku again]” because of course she is lol. Deku is all “tell me about AFO!” and Nagant is all “why would I tell you anything?” and then proceeds to tell him her entire life story which is FILLED WITH SO MUCH MURDER, YOU GUYS. Holy shit. So basically she was an assassin for the HPSC, which we already knew, but somehow it’s one thing to know that, and another to actually see her running around capping dudes in the forehead and being covered in more blood than the elevator from The Shining. Anyway, so you’ll never believe it, but all that murder had a negative impact on her psychologically, and eventually led her to question everything she believed about hero society, and so she killed her creepy boss and was promptly sent to Tartarus. This extremely fun chapter ends with Overhaul showing up all “HI, HELLO, I’M STILL HERE”, because for some reason he is still here. Why are you still here, Overhaul.

“the beautiful Lady Nagant” oh you know your audience don’t you Horikoshi

well all right then! so I’m guessing this means that she is not, in fact, going to roll over and die just because Deku’s out here all “GOT YA!” like they’re playing a game or tag or something. ffff may the manga gods have mercy on our young suicidal protagonist

lmao so Deku is all “GOD I’M SO SMART, WHAT A GOOD STRATEGY I HAD, CAPITOL JOB THERE OL’ CHAP, CAPITOL” and lol, okay. I mean, it was a good plan though. but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop here

“I’ll make you give me information on All for One” well there you go, lol. Deku Angst arc still fully engaged. still no light in his eyes either of course. just a lil chaotic ball of sleep deprivation and rage

lol, fucking THANK YOU though

oh my god what the hell did she do to him lol

did she shoot him with her elbow??? fucking look at this?? THIS IS WHY WE LISTEN TO HAWKS oh my god Deku are you dead

WHAT’S HAPPENING, IS THIS GOOD OR BAD, WHO’S WINNING

things that I wish I could tell from this panel which I unfortunately cannot tell

did she stab him or shoot him?? can you imagine if it was the former lol. why does Horikoshi keep stabbing all my kids. look Kacchan now the two of you can match

did she actually hit him or did he get away??

or did she hit him and then he jumped away?? just, what

well anyway, so now Deku is asking her why she sided with AFO, but he seems a lot more pissed off than when he was interrogating Muscular, though. probably because she shot him three times. fair enough

oh my god

does Lady have a blog here on tumblr dot com?? -- does Horikoshi have a blog here on tumblr motherfucking dot com?? why do I suddenly feel like this man is out here sneakily reading up on all our discourse

oh my god Deku it’s almost like getting up close and personal with someone who can shoot custom bullets from any distance and any position with deadly accuracy was a terrible fucking idea

IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD WARNED YOU NOT TO ENGAGE WITH HER AT ALL COSTS. IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD HAD THE FORESIGHT TO DO THAT sob. can you imagine how much shorter this series would be if characters actually listened to Hawks. Hawks, and Momo. why do we even let anyone else run the show ever

OH MY GOD

DEKU, RUN

OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

this looks a lot like what happens to me whenever I play One’s Justice. those fucking combo attacks that you can’t fucking escape from and so your character just has to stand there getting their ass whalloped repeatedly while you wonder why you paid $40 for this

but anyways though. so Lady who did you kill?? I bet they deserved it, don’t worry I forgive you

(ETA: ANYWAY SO FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT LADY NAGANT DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. aside from murdering all those innocent people and shit. but there were CIRCUMSTANCES, and THEY WERE EXTENUATING, OKAY.)

-- holy shit

looks like the HPSC arc is back on the menu boys

so are we about to learn that the HPSC was going full Hydra on people’s asses? secretly dispatching anyone they deemed a threat to society?? “taken care of” as in you fucking shot them??

so then was the “hero” she killed actually one of the guys who was giving or carrying out these orders?? holy shit Lady, up until now I’ve mainly just been stanning you for your flawless eyebrow game and metal af quirk, but this shit could actually get real very quickly, and I am prepared to genuinely and sincerely love the shit out of you depending on what we learn next about your backstory

oh my god?!?

so wait, hold up. am I reading this right?? basically the HPSC started murdering vigilantes because they were worried they were gaining too much of the public’s favor?? holy fucking shit???

oh my GOD oh my god

“it’s been a while since I scarred you all with the dead dog and the graphic slaughter of an entire innocent family, huh,” Horikoshi says thoughtfully. “anyway so what do you all think of my new creation, the Spaghetti Bullet.” well, Horikoshi, so you know that squished-up face that Kermit the Frog makes sometimes? yeah. that’s what I think, if you must know lol

holy hell the juxtaposition

I’m actually kind of surprised to learn she had a lot of fans? what with her M.O., I was expecting her to have been an underground hero like Aizawa, but apparently not? then again I still have absolutely no idea how any of that works. I really need to read Vigilantes already

oh snap

nothing like a sweet dose of assassin trauma to finally round out our BnHA Trauma Bingo!! well done guys, we finally collected all of the traumas! hooray!

noooo Ladyyyyyyy

holy shit what a fucking chapter. like, this man promised us an assassin, and went and fucking delivered. I was not expecting it to be this dark, lol, but holy shit I am here for it

you know, at some point you have to start questioning the logistics of this, though

I mean, how do I put this... her quirk isn’t exactly subtle. that murder scene from a few pages back looked like the first season of Dexter for fuck’s sake, that’s not exactly “disappearing” people now is it?? and I mean, her bullets are literally made from her own fucking hair; it seems like it would be impossible not to leave any evidence behind. did no one start to wonder who the fuck was going around murdering all these people? or did the people who asked too many questions wind up getting conveniently “disappeared” themselves??

and hey, speaking of asking too many questions

holy shit is he blackmailing her??!? or no, wait -- what the hell is he reaching for in his pocket boy you better not

(ETA: what exactly was this man expecting fdslkjd. “uh oh my unstoppable hair trigger assassin who is literally always armed is asking questions, better announce that I am going to shoot her and then reach into my pocket veeeeeery slowly while she stands there all of two feet away.” how did this guy ever function as the head of a shadow government with these decision-making skills, I’m genuinely baffled.)

OH MY GOD LADY YES

this. right here. is why “run the fuck away” was damn good solid fucking advice. oh shit. but my god did this dude have it coming

so wait lol has she just been narrating all of this out loud to Deku this entire time

okay but can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the fact that they’re having this deep conversation about the dark secrets of hero society right in the middle of their intense mid-air sniper free-for-all lol

holy shit you guys, Nagant’s the one that should have made the tell-all video. I mean, no offense to you, Dabi, I’m sure you worked very hard on your video and did a ton of crunches every day so that you would look good with your shirt off while you told the world all about how your dad was a jerk. but seriously...

this is already like 100x more convincing than what he put out. also, gasp, is it another flashback

yes it is oh my gosh

so the HPSC Chairladyperson whom ReDestro killed used to be this guy’s direct subordinate, huh? I wonder if she kept the whole assassin program going after she took over. can’t say I was feeling any particular kind of grieving way about her death before, but certainly not now lol

but unfortunately Nagant has finally lost me at the same place where all of the villains inevitably do, which is to say when they somehow make the dubious mental leap from “society sucks and is bad” to “let’s just be openly fucking evil lol, worth a shot.” because when heroes murder innocent people and cover it up, that’s obviously bad (and I mean, it absolutely fucking is lol, don’t get me wrong); but when villains murder innocent people straight up out in the open without giving a fuck, they’re righteous revolutionaries? just -- is there really no non-murdery middle ground here?? I guess that’s what Deku and co. are for, hopefully

anyways oh shit Deku seems to have spotted something?? and he’s doing something weird with Blackwhip what

oh, he spotted her, I guess

lmaooooo

new favorite Deku panel right here. a masterpiece

oh my god you guys our little boy is starting to grow up before our eyes

you love to see it. and you can tell with those elipses that he’s gearing up to say something really cool and determined and badass like the shounen protag he is, yes please, Deku ilu so much please do your thing

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

IS THAT A TEENY TINY LIL EYE SPARKLE THERE OMG. still not anywhere close to his usual standard, but that’s some clear resolve there in his eyes there at long last! it always shines the most clearly when he’s being true to himself and his ideals, so I love that it finally shows up again here, when he’s reaffirming his resolve to help others no matter what

uh oh so what’s Lady going to do now

is it time for a trump card?? kinda sounding like it’s time for a trump card

???

I lied btw, this is my new favorite Deku panel. but anyways what is she up to now lol

ohhhhhh, lol

why does she seem shocked, lol. here I thought this was part of her plan, but apparently she forgot all about ol’ “Look Ma, No Hands” back up there

and so I guess that’s it for this week! so we’ve learned basically everything now about Lady and her quirk and her history with the HPSC and why she agreed to work for AFO. pretty much the only question that still remains is why the hell she decided to drag this asshole along for the ride! because I still cannot figure that out dsklkjlkf

(ETA: actually now I’m kind of wondering if they maybe have some past connection we don’t know about yet. when exactly was Nagant sent to Tartarus? is it possible she was ordered to track down and kill Overhaul at some point before that, but never got around to it? or something else along those lines? idk but now I’m curious.)

anyways Deku, I know that your empathy has no bounds and that you’re on a “saving villains” kick right now, and good on you... but also, if you decide to just like, skip all of that shit just this once, absolutely no one will hold it against you, I’m just saying. just, all I’m asking here is maybe let’s think twice before we start trying to reform guys who imprison and torture little girls for profit. I think maybe that’s a good place to draw the line. next week is going to be a very interesting chapter lol

[stxleslyds]

Robin Jason, a friend and ally of the Titans.

PART 1.

Last Friday I was feeling extra rage-y after the news about the Titans mini with the Titans show line-up of heroes. I still think that a) Jason shouldn’t be considered a Titan or be in the team as Red Hood and b) that him going back to wearing a bat symbol on his chest is just bad but as @randomlut said there is a possibility of that book not being set in DC’s current universe and if that’s the case then okay, I will not complain about it anymore.

But this post isn’t about that Titans book it’s about Jason’s Robin’s appearances in volume two of the New Teen Titans!

Now, this won’t be an in-depth review of those issues from a story point of view, it will be a post in which I talk about Jason’s characterization and interactions with the Titans. Maybe I will even dive a little bit into why I think that the interactions that Jason and Roy have in those issues makes the relationship that they had in New52 very out of place.

Let’s begin!

·         NTT (1984) #19

Jason as Robin appears here only in the last page of the issue. After the current team of the Titans appears to be falling apart Donna calls Jason and others to help in a mission, this team that she puts together resembles the “original” line-up with Robin, Speedy, (Kid) Flash, Aqualad and Hawk.

·         NTT (1884) #20-21

Jason appears in the Titans tower along the OG Titans, when Donna finally tells them what the mission is all about (stopping Cheshire from interrupting a meeting) she asks if they are in on the job, Jason is not only excited about being there but about Batman actually letting him come all the way to the tower. A little bit of what Jason thinks or saw in Bruce is shown when Wally says that he “didn’t think the Batman could be thrilled by anything. He is always so grim.”

Basically, what Jason says is that the Bat isn’t that bad if you get to know him and that he cares about Jason’s education outside of vigilantism. Also, Jason seems to be grateful and very receptive of the things that Bruce taught him, he regards him as a very good mentor.

After everyone decides to help, they get on their jet. Here we have a very important interaction between Jason and Donna, she is telling him how she is feeling about the attitude of the rest of the team and about how she is a little bit lost now that she is in charge of the Titans and then she asks what Robin thinks about the whole thing, Jason is obviously thrilled once more, someone as experienced as Donna is asking him for his opinion? It blows his mind away! Batman never does that, he is always following his lead and never has a say on what they do so, to him, helping the Titans is only getting better and maybe he will ask the Bat to let him join them permanently.

Because they were talking Donna wasn’t paying much attention while flying and after they barely avoid crashing the jet, she apologizes to everyone and once more looks for reassurance with Jason, this time Jason is caught off guard but after Hawk teases him about his hesitation he tells her that “everything’s okay”.

When they arrive to Switzerland (where the meeting will be held) we have Jason’s first interaction with Roy Harper and him also slowly transforming into a burrito, that boy was cold and pissed off about it!

It’s really funny to me that Roy talking about Oliver’s pervy arrows is his very first interaction with Jason, who would have thought that a mad man would later make them besties?

They all go inside a building to get warm and for a while Jason is just chilling while the other Titans are all having an existential crisis, because here is the thing, Jason is a kid, he was presumably 14 here while all the other are in their twenties. Donna is having trouble with her new position as leader of the Titans, Wally is trying to live up to Barry, Garth is grieving his love, Roy is still very uncomfortable about being on a mission that involves Cheshire and Hank is just crazy. The others are trying to complete a mission while their real-life problems loom over them and Jason is just on an adventure with cool people.

Its not much later than Cheshire attacks the Titans, she first takes on Wally because he is her biggest threat and then detonates a bomb, now here I will give a little bit of context, Cheshire does not want to kill the Titans as of now, she just wants to incapacitate them because them being there is making her own mission more complicated, all I will say is that she doesn’t truly have villainous intentions and that she has a very weak spot for Roy.

Anyway, the bomb incapacitates Garth and Roy and Cheshire also managed to shoot Wally so only Donna, Hank and Jason are left standing to capture Cheshire, but here is the thing, Hank doesn’t want to capture her, he wants to kill her.

Jason has interacted very few times with Hank so far and it has always been Hank teasing him but now as Jason is going to fight Cheshire Hank interrupts him telling him that he will do “what has to be done”. Cheshire of course wont fall easily and I think that at this very moment she is thinking that killing Hank wouldn’t be a bad idea because he is going to mess her plans up! But not to worry as she is raising her gun Jason comes in to save his ass!

Jason is not a match for Cheshire and after that she quickly subdues him. But what’s important here is two things, first Jason doesn’t want or consider the idea of killing Jade, he just wants to capture her and bring her to justice, secondly, he doesn’t even want her to kill Hank, who has been violent towards every Titan and rude to Jason every single time that he has interacted with him. What I am trying to say is that this IS Robin Jason, he doesn’t think or act the same as Red Hood will in the future, he has his opinions on what punishments killers should get but he is not there to kill anyone himself.

There is this whole page where Donna beats Hank against a tree so he stops killing, because that’s not what the Titans do, she explains that if they do that then the public (that is already quite afraid of them) will just fear them more and they don’t need that, plus she believes that he is acting that way out of grief after losing his brother, as she is saying all of this though she is putting quite a lot of pressure on his chest and that might have ended up in her actually killing Hank if Jason hasn’t been there to stop her.

Donna is obviously not having a good time and after this she says that she “has had it” and that from now on Robin should “take command” because “its his group anyway”. Oh man…its clear to the reader that Donna is not having a good time being team leader but she also misses a certain person a lot. She is obviously not seeing Jason there, she is seeing Dick, the person that she is used to take orders from but he is not there.

Jason is aware of this, he might be a kid and might not have as many problems as the other Titans as of now but he is not a fool and he doesn’t want people to see someone else when they look at him, so he confronts Donna about what she just said/did.

Jason is just great in this scene; he just doesn’t want people that he admires to treat him as if he were someone that he isn’t. Just because Dick isn’t there doesn’t mean that he (because he is Robin) can replace him, they are not the same person and they do not have the same experience. He calls out Donna on her behaviour towards him and Donna being an adult takes responsibly for her actions and understands that ultimately, she was hurting Jason’s feelings. We have a kinda wholesome moment when they hug but because this is written by Marv Wolfman and he just can’t help himself, he proceeds to write Jason as a horny teenager. What a way to ruin the moment Marv…

Back to Cheshire, she is about to kick Wally’s face in when she decides to first tell him what he has to tell the others when they wake up, which is “Cheshire remembers”.

Wally tells the Titans Cheshire’s message but none of them truly understands what it means, Hank says that he doesn’t even understand why they are alive. Donna comes to the conclusion that Cheshire might want something from them and this is where Jason gives his thoughts, he says “Doesn’t matter what she wants. We take care of her. She’s a killer.”, its clear once more than although Jason (as Robin) wouldn’t kill anyone he does feel a certain type of way about criminals and wants them to be locked up.

After yet another verbal fight between Hank and Donna the Titans take a cable car to their next location, Jason is shown as exited about the view and the whole experience once more. When they arrive, they find Faraday (the guy that called Donna for help in #19) and he explains a bit more the situation but Jason once more is having trouble staying warm so he goes to the cable car tunnel nearby, but he doesn’t go alone, Roy goes with him because his “costume wasn’t made for this kind of weather either”, in this second interaction between these two we get to see Jason’s detective skills shine.

Jason has been watching Roy and he found his reaction to Cheshire’s message quite sus. Not only is he showing his detective skills here but he also said in a previous panel this: “The Batman keeps telling me to watch people’s eyes. And every so often I notice you become awfully agitated…like something was going on you didn’t want to be part of”.  Zdarsky, hey pal, I am talking to you, look at this dude! He read Roy like an open book, this is Robin Jason, he likes being Robin and he is brilliant at it, he is methodical because he learnt from paying attention and working with Batman, so, you sir are wrong, not only did UtRH disprove your dumb narrative but so does this interaction (along all his appearances in this book).

Roy is impressed by the kid, and yeah, he calls him kid because he is a kid…Roy is visibly older than Jason as he should, do you see it Lobdell? Yeah, there is no dubious age gap between those two as you made it seem. Roy is impressed because between both of them he is the one that is most experienced, not the other way around. How did Lobdell manage to make up a whole as run where not only were Roy and Jason close in age and besties but also Jason was better at vigilantism than Roy and Roy was the one being impressed. It’s wild, wild and bad.

Back to the issue, Jason taken out of the fight quite fast once more by Cheshire and she proceeds to talk to Roy, that’s where we find out that they were lovers and that she feels weak when she is around him because he makes her feel feelings but that’s not all, she tells Roy that he is “the man that fathered my child” …Oh and now she does want to kill him. That’s where #20 ends, so let’s see what happens with Jason in #21.

In the beginning of #21 Jason is conscious once more and when he hears Cheshire’s threat, he attacks her so she can’t shoot Roy, he also says this “Sorry ‘cat’ that’s a definite no-no. Don’t you know mommy’s and daddies should never fight” I, I don’t know why he had to say it like that…the 80s were weird. While Jason is being himself Roy is thinking “Don’t be cocky kid, Jade hasn’t got a sense of humour…” but because he wants to talk to Jade, he tells Jason to go, that he will handle Cheshire and he leaves.

Roy and Jade talk, Donna and Hawk are fighting bad guys and each other and at some point, Jason joins Garth and helps him take down a couple of guys, he also tries to make conversation with him but Garth is still not talking to anybody.

Cheshire tells Roy that he will never hear about their child again and that he needs to let her do her thing and stay out of it because he doesn’t understand what’s going on, Roy doesn’t do what she asks and she “poisons” him. Donna saves a guy that Hank was trying to kill. After Cheshire leaves Roy comes to the conclusion that she wasn’t there to kill the people from the meeting or that she poisoned him, but because they were there and everything went to shit now the people that were getting together are blaming the Titans for the interruption. The whole thing is a mess and the news channel are not nice about the Titans as a whole, but I am not interested in exploring that here. All you need to know is that the people that made Cheshire do what she did to the Titans were the Brother Blood people.

It’s on the jet that we see Jason again, he and the others are going back to the tower. Because the news are painting the Titans as bad when they are arriving to the tower Jason sees a lot of people protesting about them and he feels bad. This was his first job with the Titans and he is a kid, imagine how sad it would make you if you wanted to help and after getting the job done people were mad at you. But even though he is sad about that he takes time to ask Roy if he is okay after he sees him almost running away from the tower, he doesn’t get a response but he isn’t mad about it.

Jason’s stay with the Titans comes to and end and he says that he loved hanging out with them and is grateful for having been invited, he is so sweet!

·         NTT (1884) #24

Here, for some reason, we see Jason saying goodbye to the Titans again and unlike at the end of #21 Roy is there to see him leave.

I am not going to lie though; I liked this goodbye better it feels like it’s more complete than the other one. Here he says that Batman wants him back in Gotham but that if the Titans ever need him again all they need to do is call. He also mentions Nightwing which is funny because he will be called by Donna again in #26 to help the Titans get Dick back from Brother Bloods Church.

I am going to cut this part here because issues 26 to 31 have a lot of Jason content that I want to explore and I can’t put any more pictures here, also this post is already long as it is now!

I just love Jason’s little moments in these issues, him confronting Donna and reading Roy like and open book in #20 are my absolute favourite, I just think this is a nice way to kinda show how wrong some current characterizations of Robin Jason are and what better way to do that than reading and looking into some good stories.

Oh! Before I forget, in #21 Roy leaves the Titans’ tower to go see Jade and he actually gets to meet his daughter Lian for the first time, so yeah, that was a wholesome moment!

[shadowi8]

I had an internal conflict regarding FS 2 yesterday morning and wrote something about it. I guess I should warn you that it has spoilers(?

And it's pretty long too

I did this to feel better and take it off of my chest so yeah, you dont have to read it if you dont want to

I remember that the first day I saw it everything was fine. The problem started after the scene where MakoHaruRin are lying by the pool that was conveniently in a cafe(?

I thought something was wrong because the spoilers had me thinking some specific things were to happen

After that I couldn't enjoy it one bit anymore. Yes, I made jokes and everything, like normal, but I felt something strange. More than anything my problem was with Makoto. Like something in him didn't quite fit me.

On the way home I thought how sad it was that Makoto's dialogue had clearly been curtailed. And that distracted me so much that I couldn't process the rest.

I even mentioned this to my friend, and she told me that she didn't see anything, but it was because she was fixated on Rin.

I got discouraged because that problem with Makoto kept bothering me, and after thinking and thinking, I realized that I couldn't even enjoy the rest of the movie just because of this.

So I saw it the next day too, because I couldn't stay like this. Free! it's everything for me and I couldn't feel so bad about the ending because of something I attributed to the influence of spoilers.

Her, the one badly obsessed with an anime of men swimming and of dubious sexual orientation.

The second time I saw it, I really enjoyed it. I pushed all the spoilers and expectations as far from my mind to see if I could see something else. And I did.

It's not perfect, of course not. It has some things that made me say ah:

The fact that Rin told Haruka that he admired him again.

Getting Albert's father visiting Iwatobi.

The very subtle glimpse of Ryuji's friend whose name I don't remember.

That Ryuji said that he was going to save Kaede, but then nothing happens

The lack of more background for Rei, Nagisa and Gou.

That clear lack of dialogue from Makoto. This, more than anything, is the one that makes me feel the saddest even now.

I also missed Kisumi 🥺 I didn't appreciate you bb when i had you

BUT there were a lot of things I enjoyed as well:

The scenes in which they appear in the cinema (ironic) are very cool.

Haruka healing his inner child who has always been hurting for many reasons touched me a lot.

Especially because Haruka is my baby, my child, my little boy 😫🥺 Also, I saw people saying that this one or that one is the villain, but for me the final boss, the real villain of Haruka is Haruka. Blessed be KA who at least sent him to rehab because I've been wanting him to go for YEARS to therapy because Haruka is anything but fine, without discussing if he is depressed or not, or if he is autistic or not, or if he has whatever. He is wrong and let's leave it there.

The fact that Makoto told Haruka that "the you who is free is the one I like the most" was also very nice for me

It's not like Haruka reacted by blushing or something, but at least I saw that it stuck in his mind and that means to me that it's something important.

The fact that Rin went all pissed off to argue with Ryuji for putting Haruka to rest and then Ryuji told him all the bad things he have been doing to his face was satisfying for me. I love Rin, cute boy, but sometimes he does really stupid things and someone needed to put a "stay still" on him and I'm so glad he thought it over(? Although we go back to the fact that he told Haruka that he admires him when it's something we already knew. But then we have Haruka who realizes that okay, Rin left him traumatized, but he also taught him several things

I like how everyone always had Haruka at an altar and everyone said he was a "Hero", but we see that he is not. Haruka is as human as any of them and I like that it's not just one of them (as was the case with Asahi in HS when Haruka passed out) the one to notice

And it is when everyone tries to return the favor not only out of moral duty(? To settle accounts(? But out of genuine love for him (as a friend or partner you decide I am not going to discuss this in this post or in any other) that my heart was crushed.

Haruka is a bit like Makoto. He's not fully aware of the positive effect he has on people or how cool he is, and I don't think he cares either (? As long as he's not having a negative effect on others he's fine (?

I liked that the relay was Sou, Rin, Ikuya and Haruka. It's as if Haruka is closing cycles with his biggest problems (including him because he is the BIGGEST of his problems. Give him therapy and let him go)

I liked the scene of Makoto giving him the last push

I really liked Ryuji as a character, although he also needs therapy.

I liked that Haruka finally found his way to himself and got his freedom. Taking breaks from competitions is very important and intelligent to me

I liked that it ended with Haruka and Rin because for me they will always be the protagonists. And that they finally, FINALLY, are in good terms is everything

Ikuya and Rin winning medals. Sousuke swimming again and competing with Rin. Natsuya proud of his little brother

And yes, I even liked that Asahi had bumps in his career as an athlete. Maybe I would have liked to see a little more, but yes. No matter how hard you try or how talented you are, sometimes it's not enough.

I liked the scenes with the grandmother although they are not as great a thing. I liked the detail of the misangas (?

I liked that Haruka was finally independent of everyone, except himself xd but hey, you can't do much with that

I liked that they showed Haruka's letter that he made together with Rei, Nagisa and Makoto in high school

Perhaps it is more of the same as the other productions, but I am a simple woman to please.

I also want to clarify that I miss the best time distribution of each character a bit. But it doesn't bother me that much either, except for the Makoto thing in FS 2

Damn it 😫 I knew they were going to reduce Makoto's dialogues, but I still got sad

I know Tatsu wasn't right, but I don't feel like he should be punished either. No more than they divorced him at most 👀 but nothing is up to us qjbdns

Anyway I enjoyed every second I saw my love Makotito. Makoto could be only on the cover and I would adore him as if the whole movie was just him (? but I also feel that Makoto's scenes are still important to Haruka.

I think I did like it a lot, I could even say that I loved it but it's hard to me to accept that it's the end, and I have to be honest that I was expecting even more from this movie regarding some characters (Gou, Nagisa, Rei, Ryuji and his friend, and of course Makoto)

But no, i dont want another movie nor season. Maybe I can accept an OVA or something but it must be centered on Nagisa, Gou, Rei, Ryuji, Kaede and Albert.

For me, I cant say it is perfect, but it's really good. I loved it, I enjoyed it but I still have to process some things about it. It's a good end, i believe

This helped me to feel i little bit better about all this end thing.

I still miss my boys and loved them, and I love Free!

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The Counterfeit Marquise

A literary fairy tale published in 1697, presumably by Charles Perrault and François-Timoléon De Choisy (who spent a considerable amount of his life in drag, just like the protagonists of this story).

Translated by Ranjit Bolt, featured in Warner’s Wonder tales: six stories of enchantment (1996).

Cw: gender disphoria.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She imagined the same fate for the child she was expecting and, unable to reconcile herself to such a distressing idea, prayed a thousand times to heaven to send her a daughter who, by virtue of her sex, would be spared so cruel a fate. She did more: she made up her mind that, if nature did not answer her wishes, she would correct her. She took all the necessary precautions and made the midwife promise to announce to the world the birth of a girl, even if it was a boy.

Thanks to these measures the business was effected smoothly. Money settles everything. The marquise was absolute mistress in her château and word soon spread that she had given birth to a girl, though the child was actually a boy. It was taken to the curé who, in good faith, christened it Marianne. The wet nurse was also won over. She brought little Marianne up and subsequently became her governess. She was taught everything a girl of noble birth should know: dancing; music; the harpsichord. She grasped everything with such precocity her mother had no choice but to have her taught languages, history, even modern philosophy. There was no danger of so many subjects becoming confused in a mind where everything was arranged with such remarkable orderliness. And what was extraordinary, not to say delightful, was that so fine a mind should be found in the body of an angel. At twelve her figure was already formed. True, she had been a little constricted from infancy with an iron corset, to widen her hips and lift her bosom. But this had been a complete success and (though I shall not describe her until her first journey to Paris) she was already a very beautiful girl. She lived in blissful ignorance, quite unaware that she was not a girl. She was known in the province as la belle Marianne. All the minor gentry roundabout came to pay court to her, believing she was a rich heiress. She listened to them all and answered their gallantries with great wit and frankness. My heart, she said to her mother one day, isn’t made for provincials. If I receive them kindly it’s because I want to please people.

Be careful, my child, said the marquise: you’re talking like a coquette.

Ah, maman, she answered, let them come. Let them love me as much as they like. Why should you worry as long as I don’t love them?

The marquise was delighted to hear this, and gave her complete licence with these young men who, in any case, never strayed beyond the bounds of decorum. She knew the truth and so feared no consequences. La belle Marianne would study till noon and spend the rest of the day at her toilette.

After devoting the whole morning to my mind, she would say gaily, It’s only right to give the afternoon to my eyes, my mouth, all this little body of mine.

Indeed, she did not begin dressing till four. Her suitors would usually have gathered by then, and would take pleasure in watching her toilette. Her chambermaids would do her hair, but she would always add some new embellishment herself. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in great curls. The fire in her eyes and the freshness of her complexion were quite dazzling, and all this beauty was animated and enhanced by the thousand charming remarks that poured continually from the prettiest mouth in the world. All the young men around her adored her, nor did she miss any opportunity to increase that adoration. She would herself, with exquisite grace, put pendants in her ears – either of pearls, rubies or diamonds – all of which suited her to perfection. She wore beauty spots, preferably so tiny that one could barely see them with the naked eye and, if her complexion had not been so delicate and fine, could not have seen them at all. When putting them on she made a great show of consulting now one suitor, now another, as to which would suit her best. Her mother was overjoyed and kept congratulating herself on her ingenuity. He is twelve years old, she would say to herself under her breath. Soon I should have had to think about sending him to the Military Academy, and in two years he would have followed his poor father. Whereupon, transported with affection, she would go and kiss her darling daughter, and would let her indulge in all the coquetries that she would have condemned in anyone else’s child.

This is how matters stood when the Marquise de Banneville was obliged to go to Paris to deal with a lawsuit that one of her neighbours had taken out against her. Naturally she took her daughter with her, and soon realised that a pretty young girl can be useful when it comes to making petitions. The first person she went to see was her old friend the Comtesse d’Alettef,11 to ask for her advice and her protection for her daughter. The comtesse was struck by Marianne’s beauty and so enjoyed kissing her that she did so several times. She took on herself the task of chaperoning her, and looked after her when her mother was busy with her suit, promising to keep her amused. Marianne could not have fallen into better hands. The comtesse was born to enjoy life. She had managed to separate herself from an inconvenient husband. Not that he lacked qualities (he loved pleasure as much as she did) but since they could not agree in their choice of pleasures, they had the good sense not to get in one another’s way and each followed their own inclinations. The comtesse, though not young any more, was beautiful. But the desire for lovers had given way to the desire for money, and gambling was now her chief passion. She took Marianne everywhere, and everywhere she was received with delight.

Meanwhile, the Marquise de Banneville slept easily. She was well aware of the comtesse’s somewhat dubious reputation, and would never have trusted her with a real daughter. But quite apart from the fact that Marianne had been brought up with a strong sense of virtue, the marquise wanted a little amusement and so left her to her own devices, merely telling her that she was entering a scene very different from that of the provinces; that she would encounter passionate, devoted lovers at every turn; that she must not believe them too readily; that if she felt herself giving way she was to come and tell her everything; and that in future she would look on her as a friend rather than a daughter, and give her such advice as she herself might take.

Marianne, whom people were starting to call the little marquise, promised her mother that she would disclose all her feelings to her and, relying on past experience, believed herself a match for the gallantry of the French court. This was a bold undertaking thirty years ago. Magnificent dresses were made for her; all the newest fashions tried on her. The comtesse, who presided over all this, saw to it that her hair was dressed by Mlle de Canillac. She had only some child’s earrings and a few jewels; her mother gave her all hers, which were of poor workmanship, and managed at relatively little expense to have two pairs of diamond pendants made for her ears, and five or six crisping pins for her hair. These were all the ornaments she needed. The comtesse would send her carriage for her immediately after dinner and take her to the theatre, the opera, or the gaming houses. She was universally admired. Wives and daughters never tired of caressing her, and the loveliest of them heard her beauty praised without a hint of jealousy. A certain hidden charm, which they felt but did not understand, attracted them to her and forced them to pay homage where homage was due. Everyone succumbed to her spell and her wit, which was even more irresistible than her beauty, won her more certain and lasting conquests. The first thing that captivated them was the dazzling whiteness of her complexion. The bloom in her cheeks, forever appearing and reappearing, never ceased to amaze them. Her eyes were blue and as lively as one could wish; they flashed from beneath two heavy lids that made their glances more tender and languishing. Her face was oval-shaped and her scarlet lips, which protruded slightly, would break – even when she spoke with the utmost seriousness – into a dozen delightful creases, and into a dozen even more delightful when she laughed. This exterior – so charming in itself – was enhanced by all that a good education can add to an excellent nature. There was a radiance, a modesty in the little marquise’s countenance that inspired respect. She had a sense of occasion: she always wore a cap when she went to church, never a beauty spot – avoiding the ostentation cultivated by most women. At Mass, she would say, One prays to God; at balls one dances; and one must do both with total commitment.

She had been leading a most agreeable life for three months when Carnival came round. All the princes and officers had returned from camp, and everywhere entertainments were being held again. Everyone was giving parties and there was a great ball at the Palais Royal. The comtesse, who was too old to show her face on such occasions, decided to go masked and took the little marquise with her. She was dressed as a shepherdess in an extremely simple but becoming costume. Her hair, which hung down to her waist, was tied up in great curls with pink ribbons – no pearls, no diamonds, only a beautiful cap. She had dressed herself, but even so all eyes were fixed on her. That night her beauty was triumphant.

The handsome Prince Sionad was there, dressed as a woman – a rival to the fair sex who, in the opinion of connoisseurs, took first prize for beauty. On arriving at the ball the comtesse decided to go and sit behind the lovely Sionad. Chère princesse, she said as she drew near and introduced the little marquise, here is a young shepherdess you should find worth looking at. Marianne approached respectfully and wanted to kiss the hem of the prince’s dress (or should I say the princess’s) but he lifted her up, embraced her tenderly and cried delightedly: What a lovely girl! What fine features! What a smile! What delicacy! And if I’m not mistaken, she is as clever as she is beautiful.

The little marquise had responded only with a bashful smile when a young prince came up and claimed her for a dance. At first all eyes were fixed on him, owing to his rank. But when people saw her answering his questions without awkwardness or embarrassment; saw what a feel she had for the music; how gracefully she moved; her little jumps in time; her smiles, subtle without being malicious and the fresh glow that vigorous exercise brought to her face, total silence, as at a concert, descended on the hall. The violinists found to their delight that they could hear themselves play, and everyone seemed intent on watching and wondering at her. The dance ended with applause, little of it for the prince, popular though he was.

The acclaim that the little marquise had received at the Palais Royal ball greatly increased the comtesse’s affection and concern for her. She could no longer do without her and she offered her rooms in her house, so that she could enjoy her company at her leisure. But on no account would her mother agree to this. The little marquise was almost fourteen and, if the secret of her birth was to be kept, it was vital that no one should be on intimate terms with her except her governess, who got her up and saw her into bed. She was still quite ignorant of her situation and, though she had many admirers, felt nothing for them. She cared for nothing and no one but herself and her appearance. People spoke to her of nothing else. She drank down this delicious praise in long draughts and thought herself the most beautiful person in the world; the more so since her mirror swore to her every day that the praise was justified.

One day she was at the theatre, in the first tier, when she noticed a beautiful young man in the next box. He wore a scarlet doublet embroidered with gold and silver, but what fascinated her were his dazzling diamond earrings and three or four beauty spots. She watched him intently and found his countenance so sweet and amiable that she could not contain herself, and said to the comtesse: Madame, look at that young man! Isn’t he handsome! Indeed, said the comtesse, but he is too conscious of his looks, and that is not becoming in a man. He might as well dress as a girl.

The performance went on and they said nothing more, but the little marquise often turned her head, no longer able to concentrate on the play, which was The Feign’d Alcibiades. Some days later she was at the theatre again in the third tier. The same young man, who drew such attention to himself with his extraordinary adornments, was in the second tier. He watched the little marquise at his leisure, as fascinated by her as she had been by him on the previous occasion, but less restrained. He kept turning his back on the actors, unable to take his eyes off her and she, for her part, responded in a manner less than consistent with the dictates of modesty. She felt in this exchange of looks something she had never experienced before: a certain joy at once subtle and profound, which passes from the eyes to the heart and constitutes the only real happiness in life. At last the play ended and, while they waited for the afterpiece, the beautiful young man left his box and went to ask the little marquise’s name. The porters, who saw her often, were happy to oblige him; they even told him where she lived. He now saw that she was of noble birth and decided, if possible, to make her acquaintance, even if he went no further. He resolved (love being ingenious) to enter her box by accident.

Ah, madame, he cried, I beg your pardon: I thought this was my box. The Marquise de Banneville loved intrigue and made the most of this one. Monsieur, she said to him with great frankness, we are indeed fortunate in your mistake: a man as handsome as you is welcome anywhere.

She hoped in this way to detain him so that she could look at him at her leisure; examine him and his adornments; please her daughter (whose feelings she had already detected) and, in a word, have some harmless amusement. He hesitated before deciding to remain in the box without taking a seat at the front. They asked him a hundred questions, to which he replied very wittily. His manner and tone of voice had an undeniable charm. The little marquise asked him why he wore pendants in his ears. He replied that he always had: his ears had been pierced when he was a child. As for the rest, they must excuse these little embellishments, normally only suitable for the fair sex, on the grounds of youth.

Everything suits you, monsieur, said the little marquise with a blush. You can wear beauty spots and bracelets as far as we’re concerned. You wouldn’t be the first. These days young men are always doing themselves up like girls. The conversation never flagged. When the afterpiece was over he conducted the ladies to their coach and had his follow it as far as the marquise’s house where, not daring to enter, he sent a page to present his compliments.

During the days that followed they saw him everywhere: in church; in the park; at the opera and the theatre. He was always unassuming, always respectful. He would bow low to the little marquise, not daring to approach or speak to her. He seemed to have but one object, and wasted no time in attaining it. Finally, after three weeks, the Marquise de Banneville’s brother (who was a state councillor) called and suggested that she receive a visitor – his good friend and neighbour, the Marquis de Bercour. He assured her that he was an excellent man and brought him round immediately after lunch. The marquis was the handsomest man in the world; his hair was black and arranged in thick, natural-looking curls. It was cut in line with the ears so that his diamond earrings could be seen. On this particular day he had attached to each of these a pearl. He also wore two or three beauty spots (no more) to emphasise his fine complexion.

Ah, brother, said the marquise, is this the Marquis de Bercour? Yes, madame, replied the marquis, and he cannot live any longer without seeing the loveliest girl in the world.

As he said this he turned towards the little marquise, who was beside herself with joy. They sat and talked, exchanging news, discussing amusements and new books. The little marquise was a versatile conversationalist, and they were soon at ease with one another. The old councillor was the first to leave, the marquis the last, having remained as long as he felt he could.

After this he never missed an opportunity of paying court to the girl he loved, and always made sure that everything was perfect. When the good weather came and they went out walking to Vincennes or in the Bois, they would find a magnificent collation, which seemed to have been brought there by magic, at a place specially chosen in the shade of some trees. One day there would be violins; the next oboes. The marquis had apparently given no instructions, yet it was obvious that he had arranged everything. Nevertheless, it took several days to guess who had given the little marquise a magnificent present. One morning a carrier brought a chest to her house which he said was from the Comtesse Alettef. She opened it eagerly and was delighted to find in it gloves, scents, pomades, perfumed oils, gold boxes, little toilet cases, more than a dozen snuff boxes in different styles, and countless other treasures. The little marquise wanted to thank the comtesse, who had no idea what she was talking about. She found out in the end, but reproached herself more than once for not having guessed at once.

These little attentions advanced the marquis’s cause considerably. The little marquise greatly appreciated them. Madame, she said to her mother with admirable honesty, I no longer know where I am. Once I wanted to be beautiful in everyone’s eyes; now the only person I want to find me beautiful is the marquis. I used to love balls, plays, receptions, places where there was a lot of noise. Now I’m tired of all that. My only pleasure in life is to be alone and think about the man I love. He’s coming soon, I whisper to myself. Perhaps he’ll tell me he loves me. Yes, madame, he hasn’t said that yet; hasn’t spoken those wonderful words: I love you, though his eyes and his actions have told me so a hundred times. Then, my child, replied the marquise, I’m very sorry for you. You were happy before you saw the marquis. You enjoyed everyone’s company; everyone loved you and you loved only yourself, your own person, your beauty. You were wholly consumed with the desire to please, and please you did. Why change such a delightful life? Take my advice, my dear child: let your sole concern be to profit from the advantages nature has given you. Be beautiful: you have experienced that joy; is there any other to touch it? To draw everyone’s gaze; to win all hearts; to delight people wherever one goes; to hear oneself praised continually, and not by flatterers; to be loved by all and love only oneself: that, my child, is the height of happiness, and you can enjoy it for a long time. You are a queen, don’t make yourself a slave: you must resist at the outset a passion that is carrying you away in spite of yourself. Now you command, but soon you will obey. Men are fickle: the marquis loves you today – tomorrow he will love someone else.

Stop loving me! said the little marquise. Love someone else! And she burst into tears.

Her mother, who loved her dearly, tried to console her and succeeded by telling her that the marquis was coming. There was a lot at stake and this incipient passion caused her considerable alarm. Where will it lead? she asked herself. To what bizarre conclusion. If the marquis declares himself – if he plucks up courage and asks for certain favours – she will refuse him nothing. But then, she reflected, the little marquise has been well trained; she is sensible; at most she will grant such trifling favours as will leave them in ignorance – an ignorance essential to their happiness.

They were talking like this when someone came to tell them that the marquis had sent them a dozen partridges, and that he was at the door, not daring to enter as he had just returned from hunting.

Send him in! cried the little marquise. We want to see him in his hunting clothes. He entered a moment later, all apologies for powder marks, sun burn and a dishevelled wig. No, no, said the little marquise. I assure you, we like you better dressed informally like this than in all your finery. If that is so, madame, he replied, next time you will see me dressed as a stoker.

He remained standing, as though about to leave. They made him sit and the marquise, kind soul, told them to sit together while she went to her study to write. The chambermaids knew what was what and withdrew to the dressing-room, leaving the lovers alone together. They were silent for a while. The little marquise, still flustered after her talk with her mother, scarcely dared raise her eyes, and the marquis, even more embarrassed, looked at her and sighed. There was something tender in this silence. The looks they exchanged, the sighs they could not contain, were for them a form of language – a language lovers often use – and their mutual embarrassment seemed to them a sign of love. The little marquise was the first to awake from this reverie.

You’re dreaming, marquis, she said. What of? Hunting? Ah, beautiful marquise, said the marquis, how lucky hunters are! They are not in love. What do you mean? she rejoined. Is being in love really so terrible? Madame, he replied, it is the greatest happiness in life. But unrequited love is the greatest misfortune. I am in love and it is not requited. I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Venus herself would not dare put herself before her. I love her and she does not love me. She has no feelings. She sees me, she listens to me, and she remains cruelly silent. She even turns her eyes away from mine. How heartless! How can I doubt my fate? As he spoke these last words, the marquis knelt down before the little marquise and kissed her hands – nor did she object. Her eyes were lowered and let fall great tears.

Beautiful marquise, he said, you’re crying. You’re crying and I know the reason for your tears. My love is irksome to you. Ah, marquis, she answered with a heavy sigh, one can cry for joy as well as pain. I’ve never been so happy. She said no more and, stretching out her arms to her beloved marquis, granted him the favours she would have denied all the kings of the earth. Caresses were all the protestations of love they needed. The marquis found in the little marquise’s lips a compliance that her eyes had hidden from him, and this conversation would have lasted longer if the marquise had not emerged from her study. She found them laughing and crying at the same time, and wondered whether such tears had ever needed drying.

The marquis immediately rose to leave, but the marquise said to him pleasantly: Monsieur, won’t you stay and dine on the partridges you brought? He needed little persuading. What he desired more than anything else in the world was to be on familiar terms in this house. He stayed, even though he was dressed in hunting clothes, and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the girl he loved eat. It is one of life’s chief delights. To watch at close quarters a pink mouth that, as it opens, reveals gums of coral and teeth of alabaster; that opens and closes with the rapidity that accompanies all the actions of youth; to see a beautiful face animated by an often repeated pleasure, and to be experiencing the same pleasure at the same time – this is a privilege love grants to few.

After that happy day the marquis made sure he dined there every night. It was a regular affair and the little marquise’s suitors, who had had no cause to be jealous of one another, took it as settled. She had made her choice and they all admitted that beauty and vanity, however powerful, are no defence against love. The Comte d’****, one of her most ardent admirers, had a keen sense that his passion was being made light of. He was handsome, well built, brave, a soldier: he could not allow the little marquise to give herself to the Marquis de Bercour, whom he considered vastly inferior in every respect to himself. He decided to pick a quarrel with him and so disgrace him, thinking him too effeminate to dare cross swords with him. However, to his great surprise, at the first word he uttered when they met at the Porte des Tuileries, the marquis drew his sword and thrust at him with gusto. After a hard-fought duel they were parted by mutual friends.

This adventure pleased the little marquise. It gave her lover a war-like air, though she trembled for him nevertheless. She saw clearly that her beauty and her preference for him would constantly be exposing him to such encounters, and she said to him one day: Marquis, we must put an end to jealousy once and for all; we must silence gossip. We love one another and always will. We must bind ourselves to one another with ties that only death can break.

Ah, beautiful marquise, he said, what are you thinking of? Does our happiness bore you? Marriage, as a rule, puts an end to pleasure. Let us remain as we are. For my part, I am content with your favours and will never ask you for anything more. But I am not content, said the little marquise. I can see clearly that there is something missing in our happiness, and perhaps we will find it when you belong to me entirely, and I to you. It would not be right, replied the marquis, for you to throw in your lot with a younger son who has spent the bulk of his fortune and whom you still know only by appearances, which are often deceptive.

But that’s just what I love about it, she interrupted. I’m so happy that I have enough money for us both, and to have the chance of showing you that I love you and you alone.

They had reached this point when the Marquise de Banneville interrupted them. She had been closeted with her agents, and thought she would refresh herself with some lively young company, but she found them in a deeply serious mood. The marquis had been greatly put out by the little marquise’s proposal. Ostensibly it was very much to his advantage, but he had secret objections to it, which he considered insurmountable. The little marquise, for her part, was a little annoyed at having taken such a bold step in vain, but she soon recovered, deciding that the marquis had refused out of respect for her – or that he wished to prove the depth of his feelings for her. This thought made her decide to speak to her mother about it, and she did so the following day.

No one was ever more astonished than the Marquise de Banneville when her daughter spoke to her of marriage. She was sixteen and no longer a child. Her eyes had not been opened to her situation, and her mother hoped they never would be. She was careful not to agree to the match, but to reveal the truth would have been a painful solution both for her daughter and the marquis. She resolved to do so only as a last resort. Meanwhile she would prevent, or at least postpone, the marriage. The marquis was in agreement with her on this, but the little marquise – passionate creature that she was – begged, entreated, wept, used every means to persuade her mother. She never doubted her lover, since he did not dare oppose her with the same firmness. Finally she pushed her mother to the point where she said these words to her: My dear child, you leave me no choice: against my better judgement I must reveal to you something that I would have given my life to conceal from you. I loved your poor father and when I lost him so tragically, in dread of your meeting the same fate, I prayed with all my heart for a daughter. I was not so fortunate: I gave birth to a son and I have brought him up as a daughter. His sweetness, his inclinations, his beauty, all assisted my plan. I have a son and the whole world believes I have a daughter. Ah, madame! cried the little marquise, is it possible that I …? Yes, my child, said her mother embracing her, you are a boy. I can see how painful this news must be for you. Habit has given you a different nature. You are used to a life very different from the one you might have led. I wanted you to be happy and would never have revealed the sad truth to you if your obstinacy over the marquis had not forced me to. You see now what you were about to do? How, but for me, you would have exposed yourself to public ridicule?

The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him. Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.

She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?

The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.

The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.

For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.

With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.

The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.

This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)

The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.

It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.

Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.

So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.

Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.

As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?

And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.

The day after the wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.

[sunjaesol]

to build a home with you

chenford | drabble | post-canon | written on the commute | title: to build a home // the cinematic orchestra

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"Luce... what are you doing?"

His girlfriend looks away from cleansing their living room, not even fazed by his dubious tone and expression. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"After that guy broke in—"

"Asshole."

"—it disrupted the peace of our space," she explains.

An amused smile quirks up his lips. "You sound like your mom."

"Uh, that's not a compliment, Tim."

"I know," he quips. "Look, babe, it's just sage."

She stands her ground. "What if it makes me feel safe?"

"That's great..." Meeting her in the middle, he gently grabs her shoulders. "But I don't want you to rely on superstition."

Reflexively, her arms curl around his neck with a smirk she adopted from him, one that looked awfully good on her. "I'm sorry, officer Bradford, but... who always wears their 'lucky' socks to a football game?"

His eyes narrow, once stern yet now playful, and pulls her closer. The sage really hits his nose from this proximity, but his focus solely stays on Lucy. The nauseating memory of finding her buried alive, of having to hand over control to Nyla because he wouldn't understand, to then later realise she had terrible nightmares and couldn't date anyone without an otherwise thorough background check. Which, according to her, sucked the romance and intrigue out of a date.

Lucy Chen has many quirks and sometimes he needs to remind himself that a handful of those aren't by choice. Sage it is, then.

"Okay," he utters, kissing her forehead in lieu of surrendering. "You're amazing, if I haven't told you that recently."

She grins. "I know. Why now?"

"Someone broke in two days ago and you're..." Struggling to make sense, forever the half of the relationship that needed to dig for words, he presses his forehead against hers instead. "And you're really brave."

"Tim..."

"I don't know how else to put it, but it's true," he says, matter-of-fact, and cups her cheeks so she won't bashfully look away — though he must admit that's what made his heart start skipping beats in the shop, seeing her face light up like that. "And you know it."

Her smile widens and pecks him on the lips, chaste, and he almost chases after her when she continues cleansing the apartment. Tim moved in soon after they started dating. His house had long lost his luster and joy after everything with Isabelle and his suffocating loneliness, that he needed a change of scenery regardless of Lucy. It was hell of a convenient timing though.

Lucy and him needed to feel what it's like to live together. Staying over for a couple days is one thing, but seeing the dirty laundry, smelling the farts and catching one another in a bad moment? — whole other ballgame.

"Oh, and also—" Her head pops from behind the bathroom door, mischief clear in her shimmering eyes. "—what're you going to do with that ring in your pants drawer? Has it been there a while, or...?"

"Detective exam isn't for another year, Chen," he smoothly replies, hopelessly trying to keep his voice levelled. His girlfriend may be seven years younger, but she sure isn't less observant because of it.

Her brows raise, unimpressed. "You're making me wait a year?"

Tim smirks, "I can make you wait however long I want, babe."

"Not really. I'm thirty-one. But sure, Tim, maybe I'll just cleanse the romance out of the opal then." The humor wipes from her face to show a tender gaze, her body leaning against the threshold as she takes him in.

He stares right back, drinking her in like he's done since the first day, though different circumstances, and quietly wonders how in the hell this amazing woman chose him.

Playing along, he grabs the sage from her grasp and throws it in the sink, wanting her full attention. He knows what she means with thirty-one, a biological clock he'll never fully comprehend but Angela made him quite privy of during her pregnancy of Jackson. He knows she wants to be married first before she gets pregnant. He knows it all.

Placing kisses on her lips, cheek and ear, he whispers, "If I proposed to you tomorrow, would you say yes?"

"Depends," she mumbles, feigning casualty when he can feel her accelarating heart, "if you mean it. If you actually want to propose. If it's not a Tim-test."

"You're a P3," he chuckles. "Is this a Lucy-test?"

She kisses him, long and languid, and he figures that yes, he could propose to her tomorrow. He won't, still needing to buy groceries for her favourite meal and making sure everyone's up for drinks on Saturday, but he could. He could drop on one knee right now and be so sure, more sure than anything in his life.

Whispering against her lips, he goes, "I love you, Luce. I love you." And then, bolder, "And I love whatever we make... together."

Her eyes shine with ardent love, face burrowed in his chest as he presses his nose in her hair.

"I dream of a girl," she quietly admits.

His heart stutters in place, holding her tighter to him. A game of House people their age liked playing, fantasising about children and school districts and book clubs. He normally rolls his eyes at that behaviour, but now he loves participating. Because it's Lucy. Because he wants all of that with her.

"Hm?"

"She has your eyes and my hair and she doesn't like psych or policework at all. She's her own... little person."

"I want her to have your eyes," he counters.

She looks up. "What if it's a boy?"

"Same answer."

"What if it's twins?"

He smirks. "Then we give one away."

Gently swatting his arm, Lucy retracts herself from the embrace and plucks the dwindling sage from the sink, shooting him a look that reads: don't mess with me anymore until I'm done.

So he lets her — but not before he scoops her up and kisses the taste of soon on her lips, breath and bloodstream. Soon, he'll propose. Soon, they'll marry. Soon, a little human will waggle around the place.

They'll have everything they ever dreamed of.

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@alphinias @chenfordsource @tim-lucy @jjskiaras

[floralseokjin]

;middle of the night (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

After a silly argument, Jungkook wants to apologise… at 2 o’clock in the morning…

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader  genre/warnings; established relationship, domesticated goodness, fluff, they have a dog now, or as Jungkook likes to call him ‘the cock block’, smut  words; 2,150

more﹆chapter index

“You awake?” Jungkook whispered into the darkness, murmuring your name for good measure. 

You kept your eyes shut tight, back to him, pretending you were actually in fact, asleep. Damn love, all these years together had made you so in tune you both could sense when the other was awake. You hadn’t been able to drop off properly ever since you’d hit the hay at 10pm. Tired but unable to switch off. Jungkook hadn’t been beside you the first three times you’d woken, this time however, he was, and just like him, you had known he was awake too. 

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being correct though, so you clenched your jaw and stayed silent. You were still mad at him after earlier this evening, and if he thought he could just give you a lousy sleep ridden sorry, he had another thing coming. 

But then you heard him let out a tiny sigh, deflated if anything, the mattress dipping with his weight as he turned around. Back to back. You hated that. Even after so long you both loved to tangle up in one another right before bed. No wonder you couldn’t get to sleep properly. You were having withdrawals. Plus, you hated going to bed on an argument. You hated arguing with Jungkook altogether. 

“What do you want?” You whispered, lifting your head up a little. 

He rolled over slowly, the mattress dipping again as he thought of what to say. By now you’d settled your face back into the pillow, waiting patiently. “Can’t sleep,” he mumbled. Ever so gently he outstretched his arm, hand caressing your side as he slid closer. He was really being cautious here. Unsure of your mood. It was actually pretty comical. 

He leant in, voice a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere you’d give him that, but the wood in his underwear made you kind of dubious. 

“Do you mean that? Or are you just sorry because your dick is hard?” 

“No,” he insisted softly. “No, I’m sorry because I’m sorry. I don’t know why my dick’s hard.” 

He was being honest, years of being together also meant you knew when he was telling the truth. You stayed silent though, waiting for him to continue. One little sorry wasn’t enough. 

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

“Hm?” You pressed. 

He tried again. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“What wasn’t my fault?” 

He sighed quietly, resigning himself to the inevitable. “The steak being fatty. It was childish of me.” 

There it was. You grinned to yourself, thankful he couldn’t see your face. He probably felt like an idiot for getting so mad over something so trivial. Although you knew why. He was stressed over work; opening his own tattoo parlour had been amazing but he still wasn’t used to needing to be switched on practically all day, every day. Being your own boss had its perks of course, but there also came the downsides. Working six days a week, getting home late. He was exhausted. And stressed. 

It was the steak with too much fat that had set him off tonight, and when you had laughed at his overreaction, it was you who’d been on the receiving end of his frustration. You’d ignored one another for the rest of the night and you’d gone up to bed way before he had. Now, with the moonlight slipping through the shades, Jungkook’s body beside you, the touch of his hand against your waist, you softened. You would easily forgive him over something so silly. 

“That’s okay,” you reassured, shuffling onto your back to get a look at him. You reached for his face, cupping his cheek. You could just make him out, eyes still adjusting to the darkness. He was shirtless, hair in his eyes. You pushed some behind his ear, wanting to see his face. “We’re allowed to be a bit childish sometimes,” you smiled. “Sorry for teasing you.” 

You weren’t exactly innocent in all of this. You admit you liked to get a rise out of him sometimes just because he was so easy to goad. You should’ve known better lately. Even if he pretended like everything was alright, it probably meant it wasn’t. He hated being a burden, and he already felt guilty for using your shared savings on the parlour – it didn’t matter how you’d agreed to it as a couple with careful consideration, it still weighed on him heavily. 

Jungkook’s mouth curved up into a small smile, you could make out that much, settling his head on your pillow as he cosied up to you. “I hate going to sleep without cuddling you.” He whined, face in the crook of your neck. 

“Same,” you agreed. Like you said: Withdrawals. You felt him kiss your skin and then began to pay attention to something else. “You really don’t know why your dick is hard?” His erection was still there, pressing into your thigh as he cuddled up to you. 

“No,” he chuckled thickly. “It’s confused.” 

You slipped onto your side, facing your boyfriend as you reached for his mouth. You kissed slowly, lazily, just enjoying the closeness more than anything, before a few pecks turned to something more. Of course it did. If his dick was hard you weren’t going turn it down. You pulled back just as Jungkook was about to slip in some tongue. “What time is it?” 

“Gone two,” he replied immediately, before reminding you of something, his mouth back on yours. “It’s Sunday tomorrow.” 

“Mm,” you hummed, tongue meeting his, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him over you. 

Excitement real, he was breathing slightly heavy when he broke apart to ask you the obvious. “Do you...?” You nodded wildly, yanking him to you, hands travelling all over the expanse of his back. It had been a while since you’d last had sex, maybe close to two weeks, which for you both may as well have been a year. Not that you were annoyed. Like you said, Jungkook was exhausted because of work, mind too preoccupied. Sex was a great stress reliever though, so it was about time you tried it out… 

However, not soon after, lamp on, Jungkook’s mouth on your neck, one of his hands up your t-shirt, cupping a boob, you suddenly remembered something, instantly panicking and pushing him away. “Giuseppe’s not in here, right?” You demanded, eyes wide.

“Huh?” He sounded, confused by the sudden change, needing a moment to make sense of the question. “Uh, no. No, he’s not.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he chuckled, reaching for a kiss. “He didn’t follow me upstairs.” 

Giuseppe was your pet dog. A long haired golden retriever that was already the height of your house despite not even being a year old. Jungkook loved him, treated him more like a brother than a pet, and of course he had named him. You’d just rolled with it. But there was one rule. The dog did not stay inside your bedroom when s-e-x was happening, and seeing as he had his own bed at the foot of yours, this was obviously a reoccurring thing. 

“Okay?” Jungkook pressed, kissing your nose as he waited to continue. 

“Okay,” you nodded, grinning up at him. 

“Okay!” He sung cutely, jumping up to tear his boxers off. 

Five minutes later there was some very eager fingering going on, Jungkook knelt between your legs as he stroked you to complete and utter pliancy, the sinful squelch filling the room. You were trying to return the favour, your fist wrapped around his cock, but your movements were sparse, too distracted by the pleasure coursing through your veins. “Jungkook,” you moaned against his lips, trying desperately to stay attached. 

He groaned, straightening the fingers inside of you, going a little faster, loving how wet you were. “God, you sound so good.” 

You moaned louder as his thumb circled your clit, hips jutting up. “Ohh—AHHH!” Your pleasure soon turned to surprise as you roared out, something heavy and large leaping onto your bed, attempting to bound all over you. “Oh, my god! Oh, my—Jungkook!” You exclaimed, sitting up immediately, his fingers slipping out of you. “You said he wasn’t in here!” 

“I didn’t think he was!” He insisted, a hand cupping his junk as your dog practically jumped up and down in excitement. “Honest. I thought he was downstairs.”

You grumbled, moment well and truly over, but you weren’t giving up. You were having sex tonight. It may be nearly three in the morning, but you were getting laid. “Seppe, out,” you ordered, pointing to the door. “Out!” He didn’t listen. It was Jungkook that called the shots, he told you it was some type of “bond” they had. You called bullshit. “Jungkook, get him out.” 

He instantly looked put out. “Babe, I’m ass naked.” 

“I don’t care. If you want to have sex he needs to be out of here.” 

“Fine,” he sighed, standing up, not bothering to cup his dick now – free and easy. Giuseppe instantly followed. “I swear if you didn’t make such a big deal about it he wouldn’t get so excited. He can sense these things.” 

“Exactly!” You cried. “He can sense when we’re just about to do it.” 

Reaching down to stroke him, Jungkook complained. “Giuseppe, you’re such a cock block.” The dog looked unbothered. Amazing. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.” And off he trotted, listening straight away to your “ass naked” boyfriend. He swung the door closed after him, looking your way with a satisfied grin. “There.” 

You pulled a face. “Now I feel guilty.” 

“Don’t change your mind,” he whined. “He can come back in once we’re done. He’s used to it.” Like you said, it had been a regular occurrence these past nine months. Jungkook made his way over to you, caging you under his body immediately. “Now where were we...” 

This time there was no messing about with foreplay, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you. Jungkook had already admitted he wouldn’t last long, unable to curb his excitement, so it was more needy and fast than skilled and indulgent. Not that you were complaining. This was the best type of sex in your opinion. Just sheer want for one another, nothing else. When he came inside you with a groan, you glowed. Felt alive. 

“I really am sorry,” he murmured a few minutes later, still a little out of breath as he laid over you, stealing slow kisses. 

You grinned, teasing him slightly. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” He chuckled and you ran your fingers through his hair, admiring him fondly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He sang.

You wrinkled your nose, pushing your head back into the pillow. “Don’t.” You hated when he made it a competition.

Amused, he laughed, rolling onto his back beside you, folding his hands behind his head to look up at the ceiling. You turned onto your side, propping yourself up with your elbow so you could see him properly. He looked really worn out. Not particularly tired from lack of sleep tonight, but just exhausted in general. His eyes weren’t twinkling. You hated seeing him like this. “You sure you’re okay?” You asked, needing to make sure. At least he had some time off tomorrow. 

“Mm,” he nodded, looking your way. He gave you a small smile. “You know what I’m like. I need to learn to talk more about my feelings more.” 

You agreed with that. You knew him too well to prod when he wasn’t ready. This was the most you’d gotten out of him for weeks. “Well, you know where I am when you’ve learnt,” you chuckled. 

He laughed back. “On it. It’s probably better than bottling it all up and exploding over shitty steak.” 

“Definitely better,” you agreed. “But let’s not buy that kind again. My man deserves meat not fat.” That just made him laugh harder. You loved that sound. Kissing him on the cheek, you knelt up. “Okay, I need to pee.” And you both needed to actually sleep tonight.

“Can you have one for me while you’re there?” Jungkook joked. 

“Sure thing,” you nodded, up and already walking towards the door. 

You opened it and before you knew what was happening, Giuseppe had bolted in, jumping up on the bed. You heard Jungkook yell and yanked your head to see him balled up, hands protecting his crotch. 

“FUCK!” He cursed, twisting around in agony. “My balls! Damn dog trampled my balls.” 

You definitely shouldn’t laugh. Not at all. However the visual of Jungkook writhing around ass naked on the bed with the dog bouncing around and barking in excitement, totally oblivious to the pain he’d just caused, was enough to break you. So much for that bond they had… 

“Giuseppe, bad boy,” you scolded playfully. “Daddy needs those.” 

Written 2020.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020