#he doesn’t notice she’s right behind him

[sageshouldknowbetter]

In Defense of Mark S

Post S2E4, Helly is going to be mad at Mark. I can’t see a way around it. He not only didn’t know someone else was “behind the wheel” of her body, he continued romantic pursuing of that person… thinking it was her.

But though Helly has valid reasons to be angry, a) victim blaming isn’t okay and b) I can totally see why Mark didn’t realize something was amiss!

First: impossibility and sheer absurdity. To Mark S, it would be unthinkable for an outie to ever enter the severed floor. That’s a violation of his universal laws, immutable as gravity.

Water is wet. Coffee cups fall down when you knock them off the table. And outies do NOT come down to the severed floor, because the chips are spatially triggered.

And sure, he knows about the OTC and that it’s theoretically possible — but why would any outie want to, and why would Lumon ever LET them? If he ever thought, “Oh, Helly’s acting strange,” Mark’s mind would go through a million different logical steps before landing on something outlandish as that.

Maybe she’s sad she was alone when she woke up during the OTC. Maybe she’s just having a bad week. Maybe she’s acting differently around him because of their first kiss. The idea that she’s being possessed by another being? Never would have occurred to him!

Remember how his outie plays into this as well. Irving B has the subconscious of some kind of anti-Lumon revolutionary with the paranoia that only comes from a military background. (“She’s a mole!”) Of course he clocked her.

But Mark? Mark Scout a) doesn’t know the entire family of his CEO, and b) has the subconscious of a history professor grieving his wife. While Irving’s outie’s knowledge bled through to him in the subconscious of his dream, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark’s subconscious was actively TRYING to suppress any suspicious thoughts.

Of course it’s Helly. It NEEDS to be Helly. Because Mark’s brain is tired of grieving. His subconscious will shut down any accusations that she’s acting differently and cling to the idea because she CAN’T be gone, right? It’s not happening again… right?

And then we circle back to the first kiss. Mark S is in love — head over heels — with Helly R. He’s trying to find Gemma, sure, but that’s for his outie’s happiness, not his own.

If you’ve had one, do you remember your first crush? Remember the butterflies in your stomach and how much you were laser-focused on your own behavior? “What should I say?” “How do I look?” “Am I being weird? Why is she looking at me like that?” Mark S doesn’t notice Helly R is off because he’s too busy worrying about how he comes across to her. And because he has no idea she’s Helena, he has every reason to believe that’s how she’s thinking about him, too! He thinks they’re both dorks in love trying to figure things out. Irving doesn’t have this disadvantage — he’s on the outside and can see everything play out.

All I’m saying is I get it. I hope Helly at least kind of gets it too. What I’m wondering is, will Mark even tell Helly about his assault? Will he hide it out of some misguided belief that it would make her even more angry? Will she yell at him, not knowing that he’s a victim of someone wearing her own face? Much to think about.

[fruitjoos]

It happened in middle school. The moment that loser muttered, “It was just a prank,” you knew—you were unlovable. Your existence was nothing more than cheap laughs and cruel jokes for others to toss around. It didn’t matter that for the next four years, the kindest souls would practically worship the ground you walked on. You never believed them. Not again.

In your opinion, all men were stupid. That included your small circle of friends from your freshman year at Stanford. You could understand why Tashi Duncan broke up with him. Honestly, she was the epitome of class. What knocked her screws loose enough to let him tear through her perfect little life in the first place, you had no idea. You watched as she and Art closed the nonexistent space Patrick had left behind, moving as if he had never existed. Like they didn’t care that he ever had.

It was sad.

Almost as pathetic as Patrick glueing himself to your side for the next eighteen months.

Whenever he visited campus, he followed you on quick grocery runs, camped out in your dorm while you studied, and sometimes, you’d come back to find your CD collection arranged alphabetically, your bed neatly made, or your laundry folded on your desk chair. You felt bad. So bad. You pitied him.

Just as you were settling into bed, ready to crack open your notes, he knocked. You let him in, watching as he shuffled through his bag, raving about some movie he’d bought for the Friday night tradition you’d fallen into.

“Can’t do movie night tonight,” you said, flipping through your textbook. You had a test on Monday.

You could tell he was falling for you. But you wouldn’t budge. And he noticed.

Yet instead of realizing you weren’t interested, he convinced himself he was the problem.

Patrick never said it out loud, but you could see it—the way his shoulders tensed whenever you brushed him off, the way his excitement dulled whenever you told him you were busy. He never complained, never asked for more than what you were willing to give. Instead, he tried harder.

He stayed longer.

He became a fixture in your life without you even realizing it.

At first, it was convenient. Having someone around who knew how you took your coffee, who grabbed your favorite snacks without asking, who could exist in your space without demanding too much from you. But then, it became exhausting. Because Patrick wasn’t just there—he was waiting. For what, you weren’t sure.

Maybe for you to finally look at him the way you once looked at Art. Maybe for you to say yes instead of I can’t tonight. Maybe for you to admit that all the time you spent together meant something more than just habit.

But it didn’t.

At least, not to you.

And yet, every Friday, he still showed up with a new movie. Every weekend, he still found a reason to stay. And every time you let him in, you knew—he was getting his hopes up for something that was never going to happen.

One Friday, just like every other, Patrick made his way to your dorm, a new DVD tucked under his arm. He was mid knock when he heard your voice—laughing, casual, the way you always were when you didn’t think he was around.

“He’s just so clingy.”

Patrick’s hand froze inches from the door.

“Like, it’s kind of pathetic at this point. He follows me everywhere.”

“He doesn’t have anything else going on,” Art chimed in, ever the instigator.

Tashi hummed in agreement. “I mean… it’s sad. He needs a life.”

Patrick didn’t stick around. His stomach twisted, embarrassment curdling in his chest like spoiled milk. He turned on his heel and walked away, the DVD still clutched in his hand.

You thought he was clingy? You thought he had nothing else going on?

He didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that you said it, or the fact that you were right.

That night, he didn’t text. He didn’t show up the next day either.

For the first time in eighteen months, he tried to figure out what his life looked like without you at the center of it.

Tennis. He could go back to that. Try to get on the ATP tour again, even if it meant swallowing his pride. If that didn’t work, maybe he’d get a job—something, anything to make it seem like he wasn’t just orbiting around you, waiting for some kind of purpose.

Because apparently, waiting on you made him pathetic.

Patrick tried. He really did.

He filled out applications, half heartedly scrolling through job listings like any of them would ever compare to being around you. He picked up his racket again, muscle memory guiding him through serves and volleys, but it didn’t feel the same. His body was there, but his mind?

It was with you.

He found himself lingering outside your dorm, fingers flexing at his sides, debating whether to knock. He told himself he was just passing by. Just happened to be in the area. But the truth was, staying away from you felt worse than the embarrassment of knowing what you really thought of him.

So he caved.

One knock, then two.

You opened the door, surprised, blinking at him like you weren’t expecting to see him again. Like you had noticed his absence.

“Hey,” you said, voice soft like butter.

And just like that, he was right back where he started.

[scented-morker]

Remember?

Shoutout to kiki for requesting from my Romance Untold event!! I love you mootie, I hope you like this!! exes to ?, Jake x fem!reader, 990 words, fluff.

Your friendgroup decideds to celebrate Valentine’s Day together. The only problem? You’re friends with your ex. And he doesn’t know how to act like he’s not in love with you.

Being friends with your ex was no big deal, really.

A small part of you liked to think it was the pinky promise you'd forced Jake to agree to the minute he asked you out romantically. "No matter what happens, we stay friends."

However, another, more honest part of you knew that even after a break up, Jake was just not the kind of person you could stay away from.

Which is how you ended up in this situation in the first place, a tray of heart shaped cookies in one hand, and a gift bag dangling from your fingers.

Spending Valentines Day with your friends was a much better option than spending it on the couch with a tub of ice cream mourning your newfound singleness. Now you just have to make it through a couple hours without accidentally falling back in love with Jake, no biggie.

"Yn!!" Sunoo cheers as soon as you enter the apartment, taking the tray out of your hands so you can shrug off your coat.

“About time you got here,” Sakura calls from the dining room.

A familiar voice comes next, and you hate the way your heart still reacts to it.

“You’d think after all these years you’d know yn is gonna show up fifteen minutes after what you tell her.”

You cross the threshold after kicking your shoes off, and snatch a throw pillow off Jays couch to toss at Jake.

“Easy girl,” he laughs, snatching it out of the air before it hits square in his face.

You roll your eyes and head through the living room towards the dining room where Sunoo has now set your cookies on the table with the rest of the treats your friends brought.

You greet Chaewon with a hug while she tells you about her work shift that morning.

Jay calls out for help setting the table, and the next thing you know the six of you are sat around the dining table, dishes littering the space in front of you.

A pan with steaks is being passed around, and you stare at them when it gets to you. It makes sense that Jay chose the fancy meat for the occasion, and you felt bad about how picky you were, knowing you probably wouldn’t eat most of it after cutting.

“That one’s for you,” Jake supplies helpfully from his seat next to you, picking up the tongs to grab one of the peices from the side and putting it on your plate.

He makes no further comment as he continues passing the tray.

However, once the conversation has started back up, he slides your plate closer to his own and reaches out with his knife.

“I told Jay you liked yours well done. I know you get freaked because you’re convinced it’s bleeding when you cut into it otherwise.” He says it with an airy laugh, not a care in the world as he cuts your steak into bite sized pieces.

When he’s done, he holds a piece up to your face, letting you get a look at it, cooked exactly the way you like.

You have to restrain yourself from kissing him right then and there, the fondness in his eyes and actions sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Thank you, Jake.”

He grins at you for a moment too long, his eyes boring into yours until Jay calls his name.

When you finally drag your own away from his figure, you’re met with a teasing look on Chaewon’s face.

You give her an impolite hand gesture before happily eating the rest of your meal, ignoring the way Jake’s knee bumps into yours under the table.

Soon enough, you’re spread out on the floor of the living room with a gift bag from a randomly assigned friend in front of each of you.

Everyone starts going through their bags, yelling and showing the person next to them in excitement.

From your spot on the floor, you don’t notice Jake on the couch behind you setting his bag next to him and opting to watch as you pull on pink tissue paper.

Inside is the newly released book you needed to finish your series, your favorite scent of perfume, a box of chocolate covered strawberries, and a sunflower Lego set.

Your head immediately whips towards Jake, finding him already looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

The legos were the exact set you helped him build after your first date, when you’d gone back to his apartment after dinner and slipped into one of his flannels while he dumped the pieces all over his bed.

You reason that a hug is reasonable considering he just got you an extremely thoughtful gift, but all thoughts of justifying it to your friends disappear as soon as Jake’s arms are around you.

You lean your head into his neck, his familiar cologne surrounding you as his hands run up and down your back.

“Thank you,” you mumble into him.

“You really thought I wouldn’t remember what you like? Please, give me a little credit.”

You let out a laugh, and Jake’s skin erupts into goosebumps at the feeling.

When you finally pull away from the hug, you get hit in the face with a ball of tissue paper, and you turn to find everyone staring at the two of you.

“Ok can you open the gift that I so carefully picked out for you now?” Jay asks, and Jake finally focuses on his own gift.

His left hand falls onto your shoulder as you sit back down on the floor in front of him, and you don’t make any attempt to move it.

When he gives Jay a hug for his gift, Sakura leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Why’d you two break up again?”

You flush red and swat at her, but as Jake’s hand returns to its spot on your shoulder you find yourself wondering the same thing.

[decayed-cartilage]

do you currently take requests? i absolutely ADORE the way you write hannibal and may be a little (aka very) obsessed with the current intern series.. if you do requests could i request dark/yandere hannibal general headcanons :33 could be nsfw or sfw im fine with literally anything you write 🥲

A/n: thank you for suggesting 😊 I really hope I do this justice... Ive never like done this format and I think I wrote a lil too much 😮‍💨 but please let me know how you feel!! 💕 Big kisses

WARNINGS: stalking! Smut! Fingering! Taking advantage! Mentions of death! Allusion to cannibalism!

Yandere! Hannibal headcannons + mini fic(s)

Masterlist

Yandere! Hannibal who deliberately took up new hobbies—ones he knew you loved—just to have an excuse to spend more time with you.

Y/N lit up the moment she stepped into the studio, her eyes wide with happiness. It was an expression I had come to enjoy—genuine, seeing me among the rest of the potters.

"Doctor Lecter! I had no idea you enjoyed pottery as well!" she said, her voice warm, even a giggle slipping out.

I smiled, hands still dusted with clay. It was true that I had no particular passion for pottery, but I had learned. For her. And now, standing before me, she believed this was a passion of mine.

"Of course, Miss L/n," I replied easily, meeting her gaze. "I'm sure we've spoken of it before."

She hesitated, just for a second. Had we? The question flickered behind her eyes, but she dismissed it just as quickly. If I said it was so, then surely it must be.

She launched into conversation without another thought, her words flowing freely—soft, lively, unguarded. I nodded at all the right moments, smiling when she laughed, watching the way her enthusiasm bubbled over. It was an effortless thing, listening to her.

But my attention wasn’t truly on her.

It was on him.

Her boyfriend stood just behind her, arms crossed, gaze flicking disinterestedly over the room. He had no appreciation for the art, not even for the things that brought her joy. He was here out of obligation, not care. And yet, he stood at her side, playing the role he assumed was expected of him.

I watched him, my gaze steady. Unwavering. Not a glare, not an obvious threat—but something quieter. A measured, deliberate look that spoke more than words ever could.

He felt it. I could see it in the way his posture tightened, in the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes for long.

Good.

She didn’t notice. She was still talking, still laughing, blissfully unaware of the moment unfolding between us. But I held my gaze a beat longer, just to be sure the message was understood.

Just to be sure he knew he didn’t belong.

Yandere! Hannibal, who carefully manipulated doubt into your mind, never overtly suggesting you leave your boyfriend—but making you see the cracks you’d once ignored.

Hannibal watched you unravel in real-time, your delicate fingers fidgeting with the loose thread on your sleeve, your voice quiet, hesitant. You were always hesitant when it came to him. That fool. That boy who didn’t understand what he had—what he was so carelessly throwing away.

"He left me in the middle of the store… and I was so scared," you murmured, like you were embarrassed by the admission, like it wasn’t something that should infuriate you.

But you weren’t angry. No, you were simply hurt. Still trying to justify his actions, trying to shrink your feelings into something more tolerable, something that wouldn’t make you seem like a burden.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, though the tension coiled within him like a serpent.

"He knows about your anxiety, doesn’t he?"

The way your breath hitched—so subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching for it—told him the answer before you even nodded.

Of course he knew. And yet he still did it.

How reckless. How unworthy.

Hannibal’s fingers curled slightly against the arm of his chair as he studied you, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you question it, just long enough for the thought to begin forming in your own mind before he spoke again.

"Then he knew what he was doing."

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. One that you needed to hear. One that you needed to accept.

You frowned slightly, your gaze lowering as if you were trying to find some hidden excuse for him among the lines in your palm.

Hannibal leaned forward just slightly, lowering his voice, making it intimate. “And when you found him… what did he say?”

You swallowed. That small, nervous movement of your throat. He wanted to reach out, to smooth his thumb over the tension there. Instead, he waited.

"He just laughed. Said I was overreacting."

Overreacting.

Hannibal nearly smiled. Not out of amusement, but out of sheer disbelief at the audacity of such a dismissive remark.

“I see,” he murmured, but there was nothing soft about it. “Tell me… if it were the other way around, if you had left him there, knowing his fears, knowing how much distress it would cause him, would you have simply laughed?”

Your reaction was immediate—head shaking, eyes widening, an instinctual no.

Of course not. Because you were kind. You were thoughtful. You cared too much, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

He tilted his head, studying you, letting you sit with the realization. “Then why does he deserve that kind of grace?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Nothing to say. No excuse to offer.

Good.

Hannibal relaxed back into his chair, watching you intently, watching the weight of his words settle into you. He didn’t need to say anything else. The idea was already there, curling around your thoughts, winding itself into your heart.

All he had to do now was wait.

Yandere! Hannibal, who held you as you cried over your breakup, but secretly was getting off on it.

She collapsed into me the moment she stepped inside, her fragile frame trembling as if the weight of her sorrow had finally become too much to bear. I caught her effortlessly, as if I had always been meant to, my arms wrapping around her without hesitation. She was so small like this, so breakable, and yet, she clung to me as though I were the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.

I settled her in my lap, letting her bury her face against my chest, her quiet sobs muffled against my suit. My fingers threaded through her hair, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she melted into my touch. She fit so perfectly here, as though she had always belonged in my arms.

"There, there," I murmured, my voice a soft lull, soothing, patient. "You’re safe now."

She shuddered at the word, pressing closer, gripping my jacket like a lifeline. Such a delicate thing, so desperate for comfort, for security. And she had come to me for it. Just as I knew she would.

I had warned her. Had spent countless hours listening to her, guiding her, gently nudging her toward the truth. That man had never deserved her. He had only ever caused her pain. And now, here she was, weeping in my arms, proving me right.

I tightened my hold on her, tilting my head down so my lips were close to her ear. "I told you, my dear," I whispered, my voice a quiet promise, a claim. "I would never abandon you like he did."

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t question it. She simply let herself sink deeper into me, into my warmth, into everything I had been so patiently offering her.

And God, if that wasn’t the most intoxicating thing of all. The way she nestled into me, completely unaware, her soft, warm body pressing so perfectly against mine. Every shudder, every shift, only made me grow harder—her delicate frame settling right over my bulge. She didn’t notice, too lost in her grief, too trusting, too utterly mine.

Yandere! Hannibal, who killed your ex and invited you into his home as if he did nothing.

She arrived at my door without memory of the decision to come, her body guiding her on instinct. I saw it in the way her frame sagged, the way her breath hitched unevenly, her red-rimmed eyes barely able to lift to meet mine. The moment I opened the door, her lips parted, voice ruined.

“Hannibal.”

The sight of her in distress, so utterly lost, sent a quiet thrill through me. But I said nothing at first. I merely stepped aside, allowing her entrance. She obeyed, stepping into the warmth of my home, though she looked as if she hardly felt it.

Her arms wrapped around herself as she stood just past the doorway, fragile, crumbling. "He's dead," she whispered. "They found him—my boyfriend. His head was on a fence. Just… stuck there. In the middle of nowhere."

I shut the door with a soft click, carefully hiding the satisfaction that curled in my chest.

"That's terrible," I said, smoothing my voice into something gentle, something she needed.

She let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Terrible." Her fingers brushed at her swollen eyes, sniffling. "I just… I don’t get it. Who does that?"

I took a slow step closer, allowing my presence to steady her. “Cruelty is often senseless,” I murmured. “But you shouldn’t let this consume you.”

She shook her head, lips pressing together, fighting another wave of emotion. "How am I supposed to just… move on from this?"

"You don't have to figure that out tonight." I reached for her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, watching as she exhaled, accepting the comfort, needing it. "You need to eat. Come, sit with me for dinner."

She hesitated. Her stomach twisted—grief stealing her appetite, no doubt. But she was exhausted, vulnerable. She needed something to ground her, and so she followed.

The meal I had prepared sat warm and inviting before us, though she barely touched it. Her fork scraped against the plate, each bite an effort. Her body was weary, her hands shaking as she set the utensil down. Her lip trembled as she pressed her fingers into her lap, trying to control her breathing, trying not to break.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I—I can't stop crying. I feel so stupid. I don’t even know why I came here." A weak, bitter laugh left her. "I just… I didn't know where else to go."

How beautifully tragic. How utterly mine.

I took my time, dabbing at the corner of my mouth before setting my napkin aside. "There is no need to apologize," I said, calm, unwavering. "Grief isn't something to push down. You are allowed to feel this, especially here. You are safe with me."

Her pretty lips trembled further, her lashes wet with fresh tears. They spilled over before she could stop them, a choked laugh escaping her as she shook her head.

“God,” she sniffled, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at her face. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

I tilted my head, gaze steady. “Not at all,” I murmured.

A fragile smile attempted to grace her lips, though it barely held. She played with the fabric of her sleeve, her fingers delicate, uncertain. Slowly, she picked up her fork again, forcing herself to eat. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned forward slightly, watching her closely.

“You don’t have to find out.”

The words wove themselves into the air between us, binding her tighter to me. If she weren’t so drained, so consumed by grief, perhaps she would have questioned them. Perhaps she would have felt the weight of my claim.

But instead, she only nodded, clinging to me as her anchor, unaware that I had already secured her in place.

Yandere! Hannibal who fucked any thought you had of your ex out of your head.

Her sobs were beautiful. Each one made her smaller in my arms, pressing closer, seeking comfort, seeking me. I held her as if she were fragile, my touch gentle, patient—calculated. She was unraveling, and I had known she would.

I had known she would come to me.

And now, here she was, breaking apart, utterly lost. My sweet girl. My perfect little dove. She lifted her head, glassy, swollen eyes searching for something, anything, that might make the pain lessen. I could see the moment it happened—the way her gaze faltered on my lips, how the realization hit her.

Yes, my dear. That’s it.

I had been guiding her to this, shaping her thoughts, her fears, her dependencies. Him—that waste of a man—was gone, and she was here, right where she belonged.

When she leaned in, uncertain but desperate, I met her halfway. My lips captured hers, firm and knowing, a promise sealed in the heat between us. She gasped into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound greedily, my fingers threading through her hair to keep her there.

She thought this was a mistake. A reckless, grief-fueled lapse in judgment.

She was wrong.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as she rocked against me. A soft whimper escaped her lips, swallowed by our kiss. I could feel her trembling, begging for me.

Breaking away, I trailed heated kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her pulse beating wildly beneath my lips. I nipped at the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from her.

"Please," her voice barely above a whisper as Her nails scraped lightly down my back,

I growled low in my throat, my control slipping, Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire as she gazed up at me.

"Tell me what you want, angel," I commanded, my voice rough with need.

"Touch m-me," she pleaded breathlessly. " hurts s’bad." She slurred through whiney hiccups

I smirked, trailing my fingers teasingly along her sides. "Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Show me."

She whimpered, arching into my touch. Her hand grasped mine, guiding it lower, over the swell of her breast and down her stomach. My breath caught as she pressed my palm between her thighs, where I could feel the heat radiating through her clothes.

"Here," she whispered, her cheeks flushed. "Please-"

My hands slipped under her skirt, gently caressing her silky thighs. She shivered beneath my touch, her legs parting instinctively. I traced lazy circles on her inner thighs, inching higher with each pass.

"Is this what you need, angel?" I murmured, nipping at her earlobe.

She nodded frantically, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking more contact. "Yes, yes! please- don't stop."

I chuckled darkly, my fingers finally brushing against the damp lace of her panties. She gasped, her back arching beautifully.

"So wet for me already," I purred, applying the slightest pressure. Her hips bucked, chasing the friction. "Such a needy little girl."

I captured her lips in a searing kiss as I pushed her panties aside

My fingers found her slick folds, toying with her sensitive nub. She moaned into my mouth, her hips rocking desperately against my hand.

"Please," she whimpered between kisses. "I need more. Please, please..."

I circled her clit slowly, building the tension. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she writhed in my lap.

"What do you need, angel? Tell me," I commanded softly.

"Your fingers... inside... please," she panted, her eyes glazed with lust.

I smirked, enjoying her desperation. Slowly, torturously, I slipped one finger inside her tight heat. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around me.

All I could do was admire her beauty—the way her glassy eyes pleaded with me in silence as she clung to me, desperate and fragile in my arms.

"More," she begged shamelessly. "Please, I need more."

I added a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that made her see stars. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her. My thumb circled her clit as I pumped my fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm.

"That's it, good- good girl," I murmured, watching her face contort in ecstasy. "Let go for me. Show me how good it feels."

Her hips rocked frantically against my hand, chasing her release. I could feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.

"I'm- I'm so close," she gasped, her nails raking down my back.

I leaned down, capturing a nipple between my lips through the thin fabric of her shirt. The dual sensation pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry, her body tensing and shuddering

She panted softly as she came down from her high, her wide, doe-like eyes gazing up at me with a mix of gratitude and adoration

She was now totally under my control

[chuellas]

Valerie | V is for Vouyeurism

⤷ Ft. Jouno Saigiku & Suehiro Teccho

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E

Warnings | Fem!reader, N.SFW, 18+, vouyeurism, use of the names “Pet” and “Baby”, masturbation (Tecchou), unprotected sex, mild orgasm denial, creampie, AHAHAHA I THINK THATS IT, WC: 1.2k

A/N | Here it is, the 1st of 9 Valentine’s Day specials ^.^ I’m actually extremely proud of how this one came out considering I’ve never really written anything like this before

A hand sneaks around to your lower abdomen and pushes lightly, applying pressure in the most euphoric way possible, pressing himself further into you as if he was trying to mold himself to your insides. Your head lolls back into Jouno’s pale and freckled shoulder, eyes glazed over and lidded from the electricity he’s sending throughout your body. You distantly hear the way he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Jouno removes his hand from your stomach, gone just as quickly as it had been placed there, and you let out a whine but it dies halfway through your throat when he roughly grabs your face and lifts your head to look across the room to his fellow Hunting Dog. 

“What did I say about looking away from him, Pet?” His other hand has a vice grip on your hips, stopping your movements, forcing you to keep his length warm but cease the friction he’d previously been stirring up inside of you. 

You don’t give him an intelligible response, instead a bubbled sob escapes past your lips in frustration. Jouno, despite his usually aloof demeanor, was not usually this cruel in the  particular setting. You’re not sure if you like it or not, although the way you clench around him when he calls you pet is quite telling of where you stand with this relatively new attitude of his. 

Another click of his tongue and he’s turning his head to look at Tecchou. “What about you? Do you remember what I told her?”

You finally look at the brunette, really look at him, for the first time since Jouno had stuffed you full with his cock. Your third party looks just as much of a wreck as you feel and you think Jouno is getting off on the fact that he has both of you in absolute ruins. Tecchou’s brow is covered in beads of sweat, his lips are parted, eyes glossy, and his hand is fisting his own leaking cock. You watch him with razor sharp focus now, drinking in just how enticing he looks at this moment, noticing the way the beads of sweat on his abdomen roll down his abs and landing on his thighs.

Is it really that hot in here? Or is he just that worked up?

Jouno lets out a sigh of frustration. “I asked you a question, Tecchou.”

You can practically taste the frustration that lined Jouno’s tone, his already thin patience waning even more at having to repeat himself. You watch the wheels turning in the larger man’s head as he comes out of haze to process Jouno’s words. It takes him a few more minutes and you can tell the man behind you is getting more irritated with each passing second.

“I- right. ‘Said if she doesn’t… keep her eyes on me, you won’t let either of us cum…” Tecchou’s voice comes out breathy and strained.

Your line of sight shifts back down towards where he’s stroking himself and you watch the way he twitches at the thought of having to hold back. You feel Jouno’s head turn towards you, his arm tightening around your waist and hand pressing into your abdomen once again as you watch someone who isn’t your boyfriend intimately touch himself. Somehow it felt natural, nothing about this felt wrong, as if you’re meant to watch Tecchou like this with his colleague. 

Then his answer registers and you’re babbling before you even really know what’s happening. “No- wait- Jouno, please… I didn’t mean to look away, you just felt so good. Please…I’ll listen, I promise I will. Just don’t stop, please, please, please…”

Your unabashed begging causes Jouno’s lips to curl into a sly grin, clearly pleased with your immediate and desperate reaction. The Hunting Dog coos behind you and drops his head down to your shoulder and bites down as he grinds his hips into you, finally creating more friction. You make sure to keep your eyes on Tecchou this time, clearly having learnt your lesson, as your mouth falls open and you let out a stunned moan.

“O-Oh my god- Fuck, please, Baby. More, need more of you…” You’re so worked up that even with your eyes opened and glued to the brunette your vision blurs, static crawling in at the edges, softening with the tears forming at your waterline.

Jouno keeps quiet but finally gives you exactly what you want. He grabs your hips and moves you up almost all the way off of his length then slams you back down to grind into you in the most delicious way possible. your ears ring and you think you might be screaming but you’re not sure, everything is muffled. You try to blink away the tears, not caring anymore if they spill, which they do. You desperately need to see Tecchou right now, you want to see how affected he is by the sight before him, by the way Jouno fucks you into him and the way you sob from the incredible feeling of it all.

As the tears roll down your cheeks you manage to clear your eyesight enough to find the other Hunting Dog using his hand to mimic Jouno’s movements. The thought of him imagining his hand is your cunt sends you over the edge. You don’t give Jouno or Tecchou any warning before your walls are closing in on Jouno’s cock that’s still stirring inside of you. He lets out a grunt of disapproval when he can’t move properly anymore, the vice grip you have on him making it difficult. The noise he makes is broken and you didn’t realize it before but he was a lot closer to his own release than he had previously let on. All at once you’re no longer the only one cumming as the man under you starts trembling and you feel him twitching inside of you -- even in your haze you can feel him spill inside of you.

Tecchou’s whimpers bring your attention to his predicament, his rushed words gaining the attention of Jouno, who was previously occupied with watching your mixed fluids spill out of you, now stilled and listening intently as if he was still twitching and cumming inside of you. “Jouno…I need to- You told me to wait but- Shit- How long do I have to?” 

You don’t need to look back to know Jouno is grinning from ear to ear. He gingerly picks you up, chuckling at the mewl you let out when he slips himself out of you. You’re set on your hands and knees, leaking cunt on full display for both men. The white haired Hunting Dog spreads his hand in between your shoulder blades and pushes your front into the mattress. His hand then grazes down your spine and travels through your messy folds to spread the makeshift lubricant across your ass cheeks. 

“I suppose you should be awarded for listening. Come here and take your reward, she’s all warmed up for you.”

[decadentpaperduck]

Long Been Buried - Astarion x Fem!Reader - Baldurs Gate

Summary: As the unofficially appointed leader of your team, the pressure builds one night in camp. Set around about Act 1/2 ish, Astarion supports Tav through a tough night. Words: 1.2k Warnings: Fluff, sad/angst ish, comfort

I have not published something I have written in a hot minute - debated putting that as a warning, but just wanted to offer some comfort in case anyone felt as overwhelmed as I tend to.

I decided just to pull off the plaster (band aid) on this one so forgive if not too polished, but after not posting my writing for years, I had to get it over with!

Thanks for reading!

_____________________

You let the flap of the tent fall shut behind you as you crawl into your bedroll and fall onto your back. The chill of the night air is apparent, even within the confines of your canvas cocoon. Your arms wrap around yourself in an attempt to warm your body and soothe your soul; palms brushing frayed cotton in a back and forth motion.

The fate of the world, the fate of your friends seems to be your hands. You aren’t quite sure how and when they put you in charge, but it was right about now that you wish they hadn’t.

Gale’s Deity ex-girlfriend demands the ultimate sacrifice in exchange for meaningless forgiveness, Karlach will meet a face worse than death if she doesn’t return to Avernus and Shadowheart seeks the acceptance of a soulless Goddess of pain and suffering.

But worse than all that you could allow to happen, remains that which you couldn’t prevent. That cannot be undone.

Astarion is a master of Stoicism, but you can see the way Cazador has dug his claws into him. The fear of enclosed spaces. The dislike for rats. The way he believes no one could ever want him around for anything more than his body.

You think about the first time you let him feed on you and how it took him several days after that to stop asking you if there was anything he could do for you in return, including sleeping with you.

You had politely declined his advances with shame that shone through your skin. In truth, he had become someone you cared about all too quickly, but you would never allow him to believe he owed you for something you did out of love, or something very close to it. 

You don’t seem to register when the tears first tumble from your eyes until they roll down the sides of your face, brushing the tips of your ears before hitting the pillow. Closing your eyes releases another round, descending downward, skimming your temples.

“Darling?” The familiar voice, smaller than you have ever heard it, whispers through the gap in the tent door. “May I come in?” You surmise it's likely he already knows you're upset but you attempt to lessen the impact of coming face to face with that reality by brushing away the evidence. “If you don’t answer me I am afraid I may have to commit an act of breaking and entering to ensure your safety.” Your laugh is a reflex you have grown used to in his company. A welcome one.

“Yes, you may.” One last drag of your hands across your face and Astarion appears at the entryway to your tent. You lean up onto your elbows and push yourself up into a seated position.

“Thank you.” Ever the gentleman, he replaces the fabric covering the doorway before making himself comfortable, mirroring your position, legs straight in front, leaning backwards on arms outstretched. “Is everything alright?” 

The simple answer is no, and perhaps that is written on your face. Astarion looks concerned, an expression he rarely wore. Something about his approach made you answer in truth. No quips. No forced positivity. Just your reality. But not before taking a deep breath.

“No.” You watch his face as carefully as he watches yours. You notice how his brow dips in the middle, as though the worries in his mind have settled neatly upon his forehead. “And I’m tired of pretending they are,” You swallow as teardrops gather along your bottom lash line. “Not that I think anyone is fooled.” You laugh, shaking your head as you avert your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. "I feel like a fraud, who am I to be standing here before you all like I have a clue?!"

“Darling, it’s not about anyone being fooled.” You can hear the restraint in his voice. “For better or worse, you  take it upon yourself to absorb everyone’s problems with the aim of finding an answer for them. That makes you a better person than most of us. But it doesn’t mean that every answer is good or will have a happy ending. It’s the hope that makes it worthwhile.” Rain begins to fall on the tent roof, the patter punctuating the peaceful pause.

“Take it from a man who traditionally does as much good as you do evil.” He leans forward and lowers his head in an attempt to catch your eye and when he has no luck, resituates himself beside you and plants his hand atop yours. You look back at your hands with a fondness. The softness of Astarion’s actions counter everything he ever wanted you to believe. “You inspire a hope in me that has long been buried in an empty casket in Baldur’s Gate.” 

You screw your eyes shut as you try to contain the tears, swallowing hard as your breathing threatens to release a body wracking sob. “Oh Darling.” He breathes, before leaping to action and wrapping his arms around you, pressing you close to his chest. The sob escapes into his cotton shirt with the criss cross front. “It will be okay.” He says into your hair. “It will be o-kay.” He rocks you slightly. He hushes you as you cry, a soothing symphony with the accompanying rain. Your body moulds into his or perhaps his moulds into yours.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask quietly. “You don't have to. I just-” You choke on your words, but before you can try to continue, his hand cradles the back of your neck.

“You don't have to explain yourself.” He turns his head and presses his lips against the top of your head.  “You don't have to go through this alone. You do so much for everyone else,” He leans back, peeling you from him, and holds your head perfectly between his two palms, your eyes interlocking. “Let me do this for you.” 

“This is nothing, I’ll be-” His lips press to your forehead and your eyes flutter shut on impact. The silence in the tenderness of the moment wraps around your heart and squeezes. How can you argue?

Before you think you might cry again, he sits back and looks at you. 

“How about we get some rest?” His hands squeeze your shoulders gently. You nod, exhausted from another day of walking, thinking and acting on behalf of others. Your body is limp and easily persuaded back into a reclined position. “Theeere we go.” Astarion’s words are softer and warmer than toasted marshmallows, and make you feel lighter and sleepier as he nestles down next to you. “It’s okay.” He says as you stare into one another’s eyes. “You rest.” He sweeps his fingers in a gentle caress across your forehead and behind your ear. “I won’t be far behind you.”

You resist slumber at the expense of a few more moments lost in his eyes, but soon sleep captures you. It’s gentle and forgiving, like the arms of the pale elf. 

He stays with you all night, and it doesn’t take him long to trance himself into a restful stasis, safe in the knowledge that here, in this moment, you have him and he has you.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S behind the cut; “from Andromeda to your eye”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, and Superboy squeezes her tighter. It feels–strange. Weird. She never would’ve–she never–she’d thought he might be able to help her get away. Thought he’d at least probably be willing to try. But she hadn’t thought he’d touch her face or try to make her laugh or let her cry on him or hug her. 

Hadn’t thought she’d be saying “sorry” so many times either, though that one she probably should’ve expected. 

“I know. Like–I get it,” Superboy says, rubbing her back a little. She almost starts crying harder. “Just . . . c’mon, babe. Come with me.” 

She goes, obviously. 

Obviously she goes.

.

.

.

Superboy takes the clone deeper into Cadmus, leading her by the hand. She manages to stop crying, though not really on purpose, and no one stops or questions them. No one seems to have noticed the clone isn’t Wonder Girl, and Superboy hasn’t seemed to see any point in telling anyone. She wants to tell him not to be so trusting, but she really, really needs him to trust her. 

She thinks she might just degrade into nothing and collapse into genetic scrap, if he didn’t. 

She doesn’t know what she’d do, if he didn’t, and she doesn’t want to have to figure it out. She doesn’t want to. The Agenda made her in the image of a superhero–made her from a superhero–but all she wants is for someone to save her. 

And she wants that someone to be someone like Superboy, if she . . . if she gets the choice. She’d take anyone, if it came to it, but she doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want saved by someone who’ll hurt her for it; who’ll use her for it. Who’ll make her pay for it. 

She wants saved for nothing except the fact that she needs saving, like someone might do for a real person. 

Like someone might do if they thought she mattered like a real person. 

Superboy doesn’t let go of her hand the whole way to wherever he’s taking her, and she–obviously–doesn’t let go of his either. Just–the holding cells so she’ll be contained, she assumes, or an interrogation room so Guardian can have her questioned, or . . . 

It’s someone’s personal lab, she finds out when they get there, and finds out whose when Superboy barges right into it without feeling any apparent need to knock and yells, “Hey, Doc, need you to take a look at somebody here!” 

He doesn’t say “something”, and of course he wouldn't, but the clone still nearly starts crying all over again. If she did, though, she definitely wouldn’t be able to stop doing it this time. 

“Oh, you got date night already, youngblood?” a voice says, and Serling Roquette rolls out from behind a row of computers in a desk chair, smirking up at Superboy and clearly having just kicked off the wall. She’s wearing cat-eye glasses, a knee-length leopard-print vest instead of a lab coat, and very loud jewelry. Her shoes are neon pink platform heels that lace all the way up to her knees and are definitely not OSHA-approved. The clone has no idea how she even walks in them, though rolling a chair around a lab environment doesn’t actually imply very much “walking” anyway, she guesses.

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 68]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

AO3 Link

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Nia reads Tobias' aura, memories are shared, and Giratina brings startling news.

-

For a long moment, Nia stares at Tobias, trying to convince herself that she heard him correctly.

“Read my aura.”

Nia didn’t think she’d ever hear him say that after he so staunchly rejected the idea in the past. And yet here he is, holding out his hand to her with trembling fingertips.

Nia’s first impulse is to reject his offer since he’s so clearly freaked out by the idea. But he’s holding her gaze despite the tension in his jaw, and Nia can’t imagine turning him down after he worked up the courage to make himself so willingly vulnerable.

So after a moment of hesitation, Nia reaches out too. She takes his hand and sends her own aura to where their palms are pressed together.

Tobias’ aura flares to life behind her eyes, like dawn breaking over the horizon.

His aura is red. Nia already knew that from the glimpse she caught in Fort Asra, in the mines, but she’d been taking the quickest glances possible back then to preserve his privacy. Here and now, she’s being invited to look.

So she does.

Tobias’ soul is red. But it’s not red like Xander’s, not the bright crimson of fresh blood and passion. It’s…deeper. More of a maroon, really. Scarlet. Just a few shades darker than their scarves, or the rug they’re sitting on, or the color of Nia’s eyes.

The red unfurls in her mind’s eye like the petals of a flower, newly bloomed and surrounded by thorns. She doesn’t think the thorns will ever be fully clipped, but she doesn’t think she even wants them to be, if that means destroying some part of this beautiful thing cupped in her hands. No one said that briars couldn’t be held, if held carefully, and there’s something about this balance that feels right. Delicate petals and a prickly shield, soft and sharp all at once.

She gently turns Tobias’ aura over and over, handling it like a precious gemstone and finding something new in every facet of its surface.

He’s the red of…a ripe cherry, or a spoonful of jam. A burst of refreshing flavor that’s as tart as it is sweet. He’s biting humor and small, shy smiles. He’s long summer days spent in idle company, eating syrupy red popsicles and lying starfished on hot concrete.

He’s the red of dried blood. The shade of old wounds only recently washed and tended to. He is more than scraped knees and bloody knuckles, but instead a gash in the chest stitched up and finally on the mend. He’s the muscle of the heart beating just underneath.

And he’s also the deep maroon of a worn winter scarf and gloves, homemade so you can feel the love in every misshapen stitch. Downy soft but protective against the chill of winter. Safety and comfort and warm affection laid over frigid skin. A soothing, gentle touch against Nia’s jaw and wrists.

He feels like home.                        

Nia feels goosebumps rise on her skin, prickling her fur, as she takes Tobias in over and over again. She doesn’t think she could ever get tired of looking at him.

But then she notices Tobias’ aura shaking, swirling with nervous energy. She immediately moves to soothe it, and his soul doesn’t fight when her own bright blue aura brushes against it. If anything, it seems to lean into her, welcoming the way she smooths and sands its rough edges like a cat grooming down unruly fur.

Distantly, she notes that their auras looks rather pretty together. Like they belong like this, intertwined.

And then, in a concentrated effort that Nia can feel, Tobias unfolds. Thinks and pushes his emotions towards her and—

Nia’s breath catches. Her chest swells with warm, choking affection. With gratitude and fondness and amusement. With trust, and admiration, and pride. It’s so overwhelming that it takes Nia a moment to realize what he’s doing.

“It would show you. That you…inspire me and stuff. Just from being you.”

He’s thinking about…her.

This is what she makes him feel?

Nia is swamped by another wave of emotions—her own this time. Awe and disbelief and even a tingle of fear rush through her. She knew that the two of them were friends. Best friends, even. But knowing that logically, and feeling that love for herself? It’s a completely different story.

Nia makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and hurries to send her own emotions back to Tobias in turn. Tries to show him how moved she is by him doing this, by him offering for her to look into his very soul. Tries to smother him in the affection that is very much so reciprocated. Tries to radiate how happy and grateful she is to have him as a friend and as her partner in this world. Tries to explain how watching him grow over the past half a year has made her just as proud of him as he is of her. Tries to convey how he’s pushed her to be better, too. Stronger.

Nia opens her eyes, and blinks hard against blurry vision. She’s crying.

Tobias is staring back at her, eyes wide and teary too. He looks like he feels just as breathless as she does.

Neither of them speak. Instead, Nia lets her aura twine around his like an affectionate cat, and his aura shyly reaches back. She can see a mirror of that shyness in his expression as it softens, his cheeks darkening in a charming way.

Nia feels so, so warm.

If this is how Tobias feels about her, if he thinks this highly of her, then…she can’t be that bad, right? Even if the thought of living up to his view of her is a bit daunting, it’s…inspiring, too. Knowing that he believes in her so deeply. That he does think she’s good, just for trying. She’ll just have to do her best to live up to his expectations.

For a long moment, the two of them stay locked in their trance, emotions trading back and forth like a ball in a children’s game.

Then Nia hears Junie whisper to Samir, “Uh. Should we leave?”

Tobias jolts and yanks his hand away, red flooding his face. Nia blinks, feeling her own ears and cheeks heat as she looks at Junie, who is still sitting at their side next to Samir.

Junie just looks entertained, but Samir looks mortified to have sat in on such an intimate moment. The skiddo is glaring down at Junie with something like admonishment despite the relief in their posture over the moment being broken.

Nia laughs, high and embarrassed as she wipes at her eyes. “S-Sorry. Sorry. We didn’t mean to make you two uncomfortable.”

“Eh, it was a little weird, but I’ve been through worse,” Junie says. Then her expression curls into something smug. “I’m guessing you liked what you found?”

Weird way to phrase that, but— “Oh! U-Um. Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s Tobias. Of course I like him.”

Tobias makes a strangled sound in his throat, his hands over his face.

Junie looks delighted by this response. “Uh-huh. Good to know.”

Nia tilts her head, giving the little bird a questioning look.

Junie waves her off. “Forget it. More importantly, are you feeling better?”

Oh. Nia sits up, lifting a hand to her chest and gauging her emotions. Yes, she is feeling better. Something about seeing Tobias’ faith in her firsthand, bathing in his presence like that, soothed most of the tension that’s been choking her ever since she woke up today. She doesn’t feel perfect, but definitely leagues better than before.

“I do.” She gives Tobias a smile. “Thank you, Tobias. For doing that, and for…thinking so highly of me.”

Tobias finally peels his hands away from his face. He glares at Junie, cheeks still red. “Don’t mention it. Either of you.”

Nia bites back a laugh for his sake, reaching over to pat his leg instead.

With Nia calmed down, their group awkwardly continues their late berry lunch, although Nia carries the warmth of her moment with Tobias in her chest like a candle. It warms her and chases away the shadows any time Andyn’s biting words come back to haunt her.

Once everyone is full and there are only a few berries left over, they start to discuss what to do with the rest of their day. While it’s much too late to take on a mission—and they likely wouldn’t anyways, after the exhausting night they had—they could go to the training hall still. Or go visit the shinx cubs and Asher down in the nursery.

Their decision is made for them when someone knocks at the door, and a familiar green head pokes into the room.

“Maggie!” Nia says, perking up. “Come in!”

The meganium smiles, ducking to step into the room and casting a quick look over all four of them, as if checking to make sure they’re in one piece. With that done, she joins them on the rug in the middle of the room, loafing between Nia and Tobias. Nia happily leans into Maggie’s flower mane and gives her a hug, taking a deep breath of her fresh floral scent. On the edge of her awareness, Nia senses the grass type’s lavender-colored aura, radiating exhaustion and relief.

Maggie uses a vine to tug Tobias into her other side, and he goes into the hug with a grunt and a meager show of resistance.

Junie chirps and flutters into Nia’s lap, nestling against Maggie’s petals herself. Samir watches the hug pile form with their increasingly familiar brand of awkwardness around such open affection.

“I’m so glad to see you all safe,” Maggie murmurs. “I knew you hadn’t been brought to medical, but an old ‘mon like me is still going to worry.”

“We’re fine,” Tobias says, leaning back to frown up at his mother. “Are you all right? You look like you haven’t slept.”

Maggie huffs a laugh, soft and tired. The bags under her eyes are dark. “It’s been a long day up in medical, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

For a moment, Nia thinks of Ezra again, unconscious and missing an arm. Thinks of Andyn shouting at her. Thinks of all the injured Pokemon they saw. Thinks of the absence of a minun they’d hoped to save.

Nia’s newly risen spirits fall again.

Maggie must see the way the whole group wilts, because her expression melts into something sympathetic. “I’m sure Ezra’s injury wasn't easy on you all. In addition to…everything else.”

Nia swallows and nods.

“Yeah. It hasn’t been…great,” Tobias hedges. He glances at Samir. “We…Nia and I really messed up last night. We’re working through it.”

Maggie hums, eyeing Tobias before apparently deciding that she doesn’t need to push or scold them for their recklessness. “Well…while I wish it hadn’t come at such a steep price, a lesson learned is still a lesson learned. And thankfully, Ezra’s condition is stable.”

Nia looks away, another pang of guilt striking her in the chest. Ezra’s stable, yes, but he may never be a Seeker again.

A stifling quiet falls over the room.

Maggie sighs. “Now, don’t look so glum. ‘Mon can do just fine with a missing limb.”

“Even a sneasel?” Tobias grumbles.

Maggie gently bops Tobias on the head with a vine. “Yes, even a sneasel. Why, Fane would’ve—”

Maggie’s voice cuts off abruptly. The meganium blinks, looking more surprised than anyone, as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

Nia lifts her head. She looks at Tobias, only to see him looking just as confused as she feels.

“Fane..?” Tobias asks.

For a long moment, Maggie is quiet. Pensive. Then, she says, “I…suppose now feels like the right time to tell you about him. I’ve mentioned him before, but Fane was our...was my human friend, decades ago. When I was just a bayleef.”

Nia straightens up, ears pricked. She does vaguely remember Maggie mentioning something about knowing a former human, long ago. But from Tobias’ reaction, even he hasn’t heard the full story.

Although, the way she’s talking about him—

“He was your friend?” Junie says, frowning.

Maggie gives her a wistful smile. “Yes. Unfortunately, Fane passed away many years ago.”

Oh.

“It was an accident,” a new voice says from the doorway of their room, deep and familiar. Nia jumps, looking over her shoulder.

August. The rillaboom is standing in the threshold to the hall, a soft sort of sadness on his face. “Telling the story without me, Mags?”

Maggie rolls her eyes, looking remarkably like Tobias for a moment. “If you would’ve announced yourself, I would’ve invited you to help me tell it.”

August chuckles, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “Apologies, Team Scarlet. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard Maggie mention Fane and couldn’t help myself.”

A dot connects in Nia’s head. She remembers August’s words, too, mentioned just as long ago as Maggie’s. During Nia’s very first day at the guild.

“Maggie isn’t the only one with fond memories of a plucky little human once dropped into our world.”

“You knew Fane?” Tobias asks.

August rumbles an affirmative, moving closer to sit on the rug next to Samir, his legs criss-crossed. “I did. The three of us were as close as could be.”

“When you and I weren’t squabbling, that is,” Maggie teases.

August snorts. “Right. We were as close as can be when we weren’t competing for Fane’s silly little heart.”

Nia blinks, surprised, looking between August and Maggie. “You both…liked him? Romantically?”

Junie cackles. “Oh, the drama!”

Maggie’s face flushes—a new, endearing look for her—but she scoffs as she bats at August with a vine. “We were young. It was more a…friendly rivalry, than anything serious.”

August laughs. “You only say that because I was winning.”

Maggie’s mouth drops open, affronted. “You were not! Fane was oblivious to us both.”

Nia looks back and forth as the two older ‘mon banter, a smile playing at her lips. For a moment, the two wise grass types feel like nothing more than children, laughing and playing with an ease and familiarity that Nia has glimpsed but never seen outright.

Tobias looks more exasperated by the two than anything, clearly used to their more casual relationship. He shrugs with a smile when Nia looks at him, as if to say, What’re you gonna do?

“Wait. Neither of you ever confessed?” Junie asks.

Maggie and August’s lighthearted bickering peters out, something sad entering their expressions.

“I’m afraid neither of us got the chance to,” August says.

Maggie sighs. “Before Fane stumbled into us at the guild, I traveled for my research as an herbalist and August acted as my guard. When he met us, Fane quickly decided that he wanted to come along, too. See the world and all that.”

August snorts. “He was a blitzle. An electric type. And he made a surprisingly good case to our guildmaster that he’d be helpful against any flying types, since Maggie and I were both weak to them. The guildmaster agreed, despite his misgivings about Fane’s leg.”

Nia tilts her head. Fane’s…leg?

“That’s why I was thinking of Fane in the first place,” Maggie explains. “He came to this world missing the lower half of one of his legs. Not a debilitating thing to deal with, but certainly not easy, either.”

“Fane hated anyone pitying him for his leg, but he definitely complained his fair share about it, too,” August laughs. The rillaboom drops his chin into his palm, his face still warm with love even decades later. “One day Fane was chattering on about something or another and he mentioned how he was born missing a leg in the human world, too. He joked that he was already used to being off-balance anyways, since ‘God knew he would be too powerful with all his limbs.’”

Junie snorts.

“And he was so surprised after saying it, too!” Maggie laughs. “Much like you, Nia, Fane didn’t remember much about his human life. That little tidbit seemed to just sort of…come out. However, considering he hadn’t mentioned the whole being human part before, we were much more shocked about that. What a sight the three of us must’ve made, gaping at each other like fools.”

Both Maggie and August pause for a moment, clearly lost in memories. Nia doesn’t dare speak, or even breathe too loud, for fear of breaking the fragile atmosphere.

Then, Maggie sighs. “We had so much fun together, travelling the world. But Fane fell ill, roughly half a year after we met. It was…serious. Just like your sickness, Nia.”

“I was convinced he was going to die,” August adds, almost too low to hear. To Nia’s surprise, he looks at her with a small, guilty smile. “I confess that I thought much the same when you fell ill, Nia. I apologize. I really must think better of you humans and your perseverance.”

Both Maggie and Tobias seem unnaturally stiff out of the corner of Nia’s eye, but Nia just holds up her hands. “Oh! U-Um. That’s okay! I’m sure you weren’t the only one who thought that.”

August shakes his head. “Regardless, Fane did recover, although he was…concerningly quiet, after that. For nearly a month.”

Maggie nods. “We never could get it out of him, what made him so…despondent, after recovering. It was something to do with his memories, but he was strangely tight-lipped about it. Too personal to share with even us, I suppose.”

“And then, just a few short weeks after his good spirits returned, Fane died in an accident on the road,” August says. “Nobody’s fault. Just a mudslide that we weren’t experienced enough to predict ahead of time. Unfortunately, an electric type like him didn’t stand a chance.”

Nia’s eyes widen as her heart skips a beat. She thinks about digging Tobias out from under that rockslide. Or dragging Ezra out from beneath that pillar. How easily either of them could’ve died.

“I’m so sorry,” Nia murmurs.

The meganium strokes a vine down Nia’s back. “Thank you, dear. It was a long time ago. We’re mostly past it now, but…”

“You never stop missing him,” August finishes, making eye contact with Maggie.

“No,” Maggie agrees, quiet. “You don’t. You just learn to focus on the joy he brought while he was here, rather than the grief he left in his wake.”

Nia swallows and closes her eyes, leaning into Maggie’s soft petals. She thinks she understands their grief a bit better now, with such a fresh reminder from last night’s disaster.

They really do need to be more careful. Not just for themselves, but for those they would leave behind if the worst were to happen.

After a long moment, Maggie takes a bracing breath and shakes her head. “I only brought up Fane because he got along just fine without his leg. Don’t get me wrong—it was a challenge for him at times. The world was simply not made to accommodate him, and he did need our help every now and then, when his stubborn self would allow it.”

Maggie pauses. “But while Ezra’s situation is very different since he wasn’t born without his arm, I don’t want you to face Ezra with pity in your eyes. If I know that sneasel at all, he has a better chance of bouncing back than any of you expect. Maybe as a Seeker, and maybe not. But as long as he survives, you have to at least give him the chance to flourish. Recovery won’t be easy on him, but it’ll be even harder if you write him off as a lost cause, no matter how well-intentioned.”

Nia mulls over her words, letting them sink into her mind. And for the first time, she feels something other than guilt and grief weighing on her shoulders at the thought of Ezra waking up. She feels…hope. Determination.

Maggie’s right. Ezra doesn’t need their pity. He needs their support. And by the time they come back from the mountains, Nia will be ready to give it.

A glance at Tobias and Samir reveals a similar fire in their eyes. Samir in particular looks invigorated by Maggie’s words, which Nia supposes makes sense after their own injury.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Nia says. “Thanks, Maggie.”

Maggie smiles. “You’re very welcome, dear.”

Silence falls over the room again, though more peaceful this time.

At least until August clears his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid that I did come to visit Team Scarlet with a specific goal in mind.”

The guildmaster’s serious tone makes Nia’s gut bubble with fresh nerves.

“While I came here with the intention to do so, I don’t believe I need to tell you off for being reckless last night, do I?” August starts, levelling each of them one-by-one with a stern look.

Nia winces, knowing that the remnants of her earlier breakdown are probably still very visible on her face. “N-No, sir.”

“Samir chewed us out already,” Tobias sighs. “And rightfully so.”

August nods. “Good. Even if you technically didn’t disobey direct orders, going into that dungeon was a stupid and reckless decision. Don’t make the same mistake in the future, or I will be forced to give your team its second strike for your own safety.”

Nia flinches. “Yes, sir.”

Tobias mumbles an affirmative as well, his gaze locked onto the ground.

“Good. With that done, I have news regarding your mission to Silenfroar.”

Nia blinks, looking up.

“Much as you likely should be kept here until you prove you can listen to orders,” August says, voice hard. Nia barely holds back another flinch. “And as much as Verene agrees, I still believe it’s more important that your team makes this journey to the mountains. For better or for worse, it appears you’re at the heart of the dimensional border issue, and I’m not willing to risk the fate of the world just to follow proper protocol.”

No one dares to respond to that.

“As such, I’m officially approving your travel order to the mountains. If your team is rested and ready after tonight, you can leave at dawn.”

Tobias looks as surprised as Nia feels. “That soon?”

August’s expression darkens. “Last night, we saw firsthand how much damage the degradation of the world is causing. And from what I understand, it’s only going to get worse from here. I can’t justify spending any more time on caution when even a single hour could make a difference on a monumental scale.”

Nia exchanges a loaded look with her friends, one by one. While she certainly doesn’t disagree, it’s nerve-wracking hearing the words from August himself. It makes everything feel even more serious. More real. Urgent.

“Will you four be ready to travel by tomorrow?” August asks.

Samir and Tobias nod immediately. After a moment of hesitation, Nia follows. August is right. They can’t postpone this any longer.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Junie says, her tense voice aiming for lighthearted but missing by a mile.

August nods, shoulders dropping. “Good. In that case, you’ll set out at dawn tomorrow by flight ‘mon along with Fidel. He’s already confirmed he’s ready to travel.”

Oh, right. The zoroark will be joining them on this mission. Something about that—about having an actual adult on their side—eases Nia’s mind a bit. She nods along with the others.

“Good,” August says, slapping a hand on his knee as he rises to his feet. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it. Rest up, and don’t forget to bring proper snow gear.”

“Done and done!” Junie chirps with a salute of her wing.

August smiles, then reaches into his leafy mane and pulls out an envelope. He hands it to Nia. “Here’s the letter I promised, vouching for your team. Give it to the matriarch of Silen, the village atop the mountains. Don’t lose it.”

Nia nods, taking the letter and holding it close to her chest.

For a moment, August sweeps his gaze over each of them, one by one. Nia wonders what he sees, looking down at a bunch of kids a fraction of his size. She wonders if he regrets sending them into a dangerous environment to look for signs of dormant legends. Wonders if he doubts them, and their chances of saving the world.

August doesn’t say. He simply smiles once more and says, “Good luck, Team Scarlet. Be safe.”

And then he’s gone, ducking through the doorway and back into the hall.

Nia swallows, staring after him. “It…suddenly feels a lot more real, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tobias whispers.

Nia gets up, gently nudging Junie off her lap, to tuck August’s letter safely into an inner pocket of their satchel. After a moment, Tobias joins her, double-checking that they have all of their snow gear for the trip.

Maggie sighs and stands, too. “I suppose I should be getting back up to medical as well, before Sage gets too overwhelmed.”

“Thanks for checking on us,” Nia says, abandoning the satchel to hug Maggie’s leg goodbye.

The meganium bends her neck to hug Nia back. Her voice trembles as she says, “Of course, dear. You all be careful and come back to us safe and sound, all right?”

Tobias, who just “happened” to wander into hugging range, is yanked into a tight embrace as well.

“We’ll be careful,” Tobias mutters.

“Good. Samir? Junie?” Maggie says, lifting her head. The skiddo and rookidee straighten up. “Make sure they don’t get into too much trouble, all right?”

Junie salutes again. “Yes, ma’am!”

Samir nods seriously as well, legs snapping together like a soldier at attention.

Maggie smiles, her eyes misty. Then she releases Nia and Tobias and steps back, giving them one last look and a quiet bid to be careful before she goes to leave as well.

Nia suddenly remembers something she thought of earlier.

“O-Oh! Maggie?”

“Yes?”

Nia swallows hard. “Do you…have you seen a plusle in the medical wing?”

Maggie makes a thoughtful sound in her throat. “I haven’t, but if they weren’t seriously injured, they’re likely being housed somewhere else for the moment.”

Nia takes a shaky breath. “The reason we went into the dungeon in the first place was to try and save a plusle’s sister. A minun. They got separated. If you do see the plusle, can…can you let her know that we did find her sister, but she was already—”

A lump clogs Nia’s throat and tears sting her eyes. She blinks furiously, trying to regain her grasp on speech.

But Maggie clearly gets the message, her face falling with sympathy. For a moment, she looks like she’s going to turn around and envelop Nia in another hug.

Tobias and Samir step up on either side of Nia instead, and she gains strength from their steady presence.

Maggie nods, voice soft. “Of course, dear. I’ll find her and break the news. I’m sure on some level, she’ll be relieved to know.”

Nia is definitely fighting off tears now, so she just nods. Tobias takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.

Maggie, clearly reluctant to leave, finally turns away with another murmur of goodbye and a bid for them to be safe.

And then they’re left alone again, the room feeling oddly empty without Maggie and August. Late afternoon light shines through their window’s leaf blind, just on the edge of sunset. Soon enough they’ll be heading off to bed, then waking up again to head to the mountains.

Nia takes a few breaths to reign in her emotions, then nods to Tobias and Samir. As one, their group gathers around their supplies to prepare.

It’s dusk by time they’re finally finished, after checking and re-checking that they have everything. They’ve got their snow cloaks and scarves and snowshoes. They’ve got their satchel, their badges, and August’s letter. They’ve got apples, travel snacks from the cafeteria, hydration berries and water, and aspear and yache berries to help fight off the cold. They’ve also packed up a bit of their money, in case they need cash for the village on the mountaintop. They even have a few herbs wrapped up and ready to go for tomorrow morning, courtesy of a quick visit to Maggie and Sage. They’re apparently supposed to help boost everyone’s immune systems in the frigid weather.

Once they’re all packed up, Nia feels…restless, without anything to do. She supposes they could go see Fidel and make sure he’s ready, but August already assured them of that.

Tobias keeps fidgeting too, and Nia assumes he feels the same restlessness under his skin. That is, until he turns to her and says, “Hey, I’ve been thinking about something.”

Nia exchanges a confused look with Junie, then gives Tobias her full attention. He doesn’t sound angry or anything, but he does sound…tense. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“It’s about Giratina.”

Nia’s stomach turns. So much has been happening today that she’s hardly even thought about that. About how Giratina’s reflection and its portal properties didn’t work last night, when Ezra was injured. Giratina couldn’t pull the sneasel—couldn’t pull any of them—through to the Distortion World like she’d been expecting.

Tobias mouth flattens into a worried line. “I’ve been wondering why the portal didn’t work last night. It was clear he was trying to pull us through, but he just…couldn’t. Do you think it was because we were in a dungeon?”

“What, like it was too unstable in there or something?” Junie asks.

“Yeah.”

Nia frowns as she thinks. She wishes she could agree, but something about the way Giratina had looked at her in that moment, something in his face and posture, made her fear otherwise. He’d looked…utterly exhausted. Ashamed, almost.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Nia says. “I mean, the dungeons are definitely unstable—”

Nia thinks about how she’d tried to follow the threads of life energy in the dungeon to find the minun. Thinks about how the typically organized pathways of aura were instead split and frayed like loose stitching. The memory makes her feel sick with wrongness.

“—but I don’t think that’s quite it.”

A quiet tap tap of Samir’s hoof catches everyone’s attention. Samir is frowning, and they tilt their head in question.

Oh, right! Samir wasn’t there last night, and they don’t have as much knowledge of Giratina’s portals as Junie does.  

“Whoops. Sorry, Samir,” Nia says. “When we were in the dungeon last night and Ezra got hurt, I tried to call Giratina so we could use his reflection as a portal out.”

Samir leans back, looking stunned, as if to ask, You can do that?

Nia cringes. “We could do that in Kaleido Bay just a week ago, but…”

“But Giratina couldn’t seem to do it last night,” Tobias finishes, looking troubled. “He clearly tried, but it was like he couldn’t reach through to our world anymore. I thought maybe it was just that the dungeon was too unstable, but…”

He looks at Nia.

Nia shifts on her feet. “I mean, I don’t have any proof that that isn’t what happened. But something about how Giratina looked and reacted made it feel like…something else was the problem.”

Like something had changed since Kaleido.

Junie frowns. “Well, why don’t you just ask him?”

Nia looks down at the little bird. “What?”

“Call him up like we did at me and Bo’s place!”

…Huh. She has a point. Giratina can’t seem to audibly talk to them when they’re just communicating through reflections, but he could at least give them yes or no answers.

“Okay. Let’s try it,” Nia says, looking at Tobias. “You’re right. We need to know what’s going on, and find out if Giratina is even a viable escape route anymore.”

It doesn’t take long for Nia to retrieve a bowl of water and bring it back to their room. She places it carefully on the floor, and all of them gather around it.

Nia releases a long breath, and then says, “Hey, Giratina? Are you there?”

For a moment, there’s no response. Then, there’s the familiar faint flicker of gold and gray and black. Giratina’s eyes swirl into view and glow up at them like tiny red fireflies.

Samir shifts in place, readjusting the legs folded under their body. They seem understandably unsettled by the god’s appearance. Nia supposes that it was too much to hope for a repeat of Junie’s easy, enthusiastic acceptance from the last time they did this.

“Hi,” Nia starts, lamely. “Um. We made it out of the dungeon, in case you were wondering.”

Giratina doesn’t answer, but he does look away slightly, as if he feels…guilty.

Nia holds up her hands. “We’re not upset with you or anything! But we are, uh…a little worried. About why that didn’t work this time. Was it because we were in a dungeon?”

Giratina hesitates, then shakes his head.

Nia exchanges a worried look with the others. “Then…is this a new development? You can’t pull Pokemon into the Distortion World anymore?”

Nia remembers trying to touch Giratina through the reflection in the dungeon. Remembers the fear when she felt only cold water against her palm.

Giratina heaves a silent, but visible sigh. He nods.

Nia’s heart sinks. It had been such a comforting thought, having Giratina’s reflections as an escape route, only for them to lose it just as quickly as it appeared.

“But why?” Tobias asks, leaning over the cup of water. “You had no problem breaching the barrier in Kaleido Bay, just a few days ago.” Tobias’ breath catches at his own words, his face paling. “That…that didn’t deplete your energy or something, did it?”

For the first time today, Nia sees a spark of Giratina’s old grumpiness as he glares at Tobias. As if offended by the thought that such a trivial action could drain him.

“I was just checking,” Tobias mutteres, sitting back.

“So if that isn’t the problem,” Nia says, slowly. “Then has something else changed in the last few days? Relating to the border.”

Giratina meets her eyes, looking more exhausted than ever. He nods.

Nia’s heart skips a beat. “Okay. Okay, that…doesn’t sound good. What does that mean?”

Giratina obviously can’t say anything, but the way he looks at Nia, all heavy eyes and grave stillness, speaks volumes.

Nia exchanges a nervous look with Tobias. “We…still have a year before the barrier is supposed to break, right?”

Her worst fears come true when Giratina closes his eyes and shakes his head. Stricken, Nia watches as Giratina lifts two of his tendrils and holds them apart from each other, as if indicating the size of something. Then, abruptly, they’re shoved much closer together.

“The timeline,” Tobias breathes. “It…shortened?”

Nia feels horror crawl up her throat. “W-What?! You mean we have less time before it happens?”

Junie had been listening silently, squinting into the reflection, but now she speaks up. “If the time before the big bad shortened all of a sudden, does that mean this is like…some science-fiction time travel stuff? Like the butterfly effect or something?”

Nia stares at her. “What, like someone did something in the last few days that changed the course of the future? Something that made the barrier-breaking event…accelerate?”

“Yeah!”

Giratina’s head lowers in a single, defeated nod. Nia feels like throwing up.

Whatever is destined to break the barrier of this world is no longer granting them a generous year to head it off. But then…how long do they have?

“How long until it happens?” Tobias croaks, voicing Nia’s thoughts.

“Half a year?” Nia asks.

Giratina shakes his head. Nia’s fear grows.

“Three months?” Junie suggests.

No.

“Two months?”

Another shake of the head.

Nia feels a terrified sort of numbness washing over her. “…One month?”

Giratina hesitates. Then, he gives an uncertain nod.

A heavy, dread-filled silence falls over the room like a physical weight. Nia’s heart roars in her ears.

A month. They have a month before the dimensional border cracks and the Pokemon world is no more. A month to find Xerneas and stop it from happening.

Nia can’t bring herself to look at the others. Instead, she stares down at the shaking fingers folded in her lap. She feels like she should be crying, but instead she’s frozen in place.

This doesn’t feel real. It feels like a bad dream.

…What do they do now?

For a long, horrible moment, none of them move. None of them speak. Then—

“All right,” Junie breathes, catching their attention. The rookidee is clearly just as perturbed as the rest of them, but she shakes herself out, fluffing up her feathers. “A month. That’s, uh. Not great. But we’re leaving tomorrow, right? Maybe we’ll have this all figured out by the end of the week!”

For a moment, Nia stares at Junie, uncomprehending. The little bird is clearly forcing her optimism. She clearly doesn’t believe it herself.

But…she’s trying. And she’s right to, isn’t she? They can’t give up before the disaster even happens. Before they’ve even tried.

Nia takes a sharp breath. Then another. Slowly eases her heartrate back to something manageable. She feels the others’ eyes on her.

“She’s right,” Nia says, weaker than she’d like. “We can’t just…not try, no matter how much the odds are stacked against us.”

Nia summons her courage, and lifts her eyes to make eye contact with each of her friends, one by one. Junie’s eyes shine with relief and terror in equal measure. Samir looks doubtful. Tobias’ expression is desperate and pale.

“Either we lie down and die here,” Nia says. “Or we try to find an answer, even if it feels like a losing battle.”

“Woo,” Junie cheers, warbly and weak, with a light pump of her wing.

Nia snorts a hysterical laugh.

At her side, Tobias huffs a laugh too. He scrubs a hand over his face, rubbing hard at the skin. “You’re both crazy. But I guess you’re right, too. Even if it’s a lost cause, there’s no point in giving up now. Either we don’t try and we’re guaranteed to fail, or we do try and have at least a chance at figuring this out in time.”

As one, everyone looks at Samir. The skiddo frowns and leans away from all the attention.

“Whatcha say, Samir?” Junie asks, her voice a strange balance of earnest and teasing. “Willing to give the impossible a shot?”

The skiddo looks at Junie for a long moment. Then at Nia and Tobias. Finally, they sigh, and push one of their front hooves close to the cup of water, as if to say that they’re in.

Nia smiles, something desperate and hopeful rising in her chest despite the terror lingering in her very bones. She looks down at Giratina, who is watching them with an unreadable expression.

“The mission’s still on, Giratina. Don’t count us out yet, okay?”

Giratina rolls his eyes, and Nia huffs another laugh.

They can do this. They have to. It doesn’t matter if their odds are suddenly even lower than before. They don’t have the option of giving up. And tomorrow morning, they’ll start their journey to find the answers they need.

[discoscoob]

I thought about the Moulin Rouge fic more and I’m just going to share my ideas so they aren’t trapped inside my head:

You would turn up to the club trying to find the owner so you could ask about a job but making your way through the club you’d somehow find yourself near the dressing rooms. One of the strippers would notice you looking around and ask if you’re lost to which you would explain you’re looking for the owner because you want to ask about a job. Noticing how clueless you seem to be about the club and not wanting yet another stripper stealing potential tips she pretends to be helpful, telling you to follow her.

She’d lead you outside, into the alleyway where Marlon is taking his break. He’s leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette, dressed in a sharp suit because this is a classy establishment. He’s doing well for himself now, he’s been clean for a while and he’s managed to get promoted to bar manager. The stripper introduces you to “Mr. James” telling him you’re interested in the job opening before making herself scarce.

You’re feeling kind of nervous, standing in front of the man who supposedly owns the club and you’re very polite when you introduce yourself, calling him “Mr. James” just like the stripper did, which caught him off guard because no one ever calls him that and now you’re calling him that too.

“Uh… please, call me Marlon.” he would awkwardly shake your hand. He’s not at all what you expected, you expected the owner to be a little bit more… confident and maybe even a little intimidating, but if anything, he seemed slightly intimidated by you.

“It’s your lucky night!” he’d tell you after stubbing out his cigarette on the wall, explaining that a job vacancy just opened up and he invites you to come back for an interview tomorrow afternoon. He seems to be in a rush, to you he’s a busy club owner, it makes sense but to him his break finished and he needs to get back to work. As you leave, excited to have an interview secured, you don’t notice the BAR STAFF WANTED sign in the window.

The next day when you show up right on time for the interview, Marlon is no longer dressed in the sharp suit. He’s swapped it for an oversized hoodie, some faded jeans and scuffed up sneakers. Not exactly what you’d expect a club owner to wear but you guess it’s just his casual style.

You follow him around the empty club as he conducts the interview, it’s very casual.

“Any experience?”

“Well, not exactly. But I’m a fast learner!”

He doesn’t seem put off by your response as he nods.

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.” he’d suddenly say, leaning himself against the bar, expecting you to go behind the bar and make a drink to showcase your skills.

“Right here?” you’d blink, standing there a little nervously right in front of him. Does he want you to do it here or get up on the stage?

“Where else?” he’d tilt his head, looking as confused as you feel.

Okay, here it is. But there’s no music. Were you meant to bring your own? Should you ask him to put some on? You should just ask.

“Uh… could… could I have some music, please?” you’re feeling a bit awkward.

“Music?” Marlon still looks confused, was it out of the ordinary to ask for music to strip to? Are you being difficult? Are you blowing your chances? You’re getting in your head. Meanwhile Marlon is wondering why you need music to make a drink but he shrugs, not questioning it. “Uh, sure.” he would pull out his phone, connecting it to the club speakers, he doesn’t exactly know what kind of music you want so he picks something at random.

The song that blasts out the speakers is not the kind of song you’d expect someone to strip to but you feel too awkward at this point to ask him to change it so with a deep breath you decide to just get this over with.

You begin a striptease.

You’re halfway through removing your top when Marlon stops you abruptly. Did you mess up already?

“What are you doing?!”

Isn’t that obvious?

“I’m auditioning.” answer frozen midway through removing your top, feeling your heart hammering.

“You’re… you’re not here for the bartender vacancy?” he asks, still looking startled and nervous, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“No, I- I’m auditioning to be one of the strippers.” you explain in return.

“Mr. Mark auditions the strippers.”

“Who’s Mr. Mark?”

“The owner.”

Your face immediately flushes with embarrassment. “You’re not the owner?”

Marlon looks at you like you just grew a second head. “What? No! I’m just the bar manager.”

You’re absolutely mortified.

“One of the strippers told me you were…” you mumble realising how foolish you were.

[sturniololuvz]

can you do a sister fic where she is 4 and still likes binkys/pacifiers and the boys are trying to wean her off of them? like they try to distract her after they take it but it never works

aww so cute !!! i’m still on my way home but i’m going to try ! i’ll even stay up tonight to get all the fics out!! love yall

“Nunu No More?”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : none

Four-year-old Y/N sat on the couch, happily sucking on her beloved pacifier—her nunu, as she called it. It was pink with little stars on it, her absolute favorite. She never went anywhere without it, and her big brothers, Matt, Chris, and Nick Sturniolo, were on a mission: Operation Nunu No More.

“Alright, guys, we have to do this carefully,” Matt whispered as he, Chris, and Nick huddled in the kitchen.

“Yeah, last time we tried to take it, she screamed for like an hour,” Chris reminded them.

Nick nodded. “Okay, this time, we distract her so she doesn’t notice.”

With their plan set, they walked into the living room, wearing big smiles.

“Hey, Y/N!” Matt said in an overly cheerful voice. “Wanna play hide and seek?”

Y/N pulled her nunu out for a second. “Hmm… maybe,” she said before popping it back in her mouth.

“Okay, okay, but what if…” Chris quickly snatched the pacifier out of her mouth and tossed it behind the couch. “Oops! Where’d it go?”

Y/N blinked at him for a second, then slowly turned to look at Nick. “Chris took my nunu,” she said, her voice calm.

Nick held his breath. “Uh—uh, no, no, he—he just—look! We got you ice cream!” He quickly handed her a bowl.

Y/N looked at the ice cream, then back at her brothers. Without hesitation, she stood up, walked over to the couch, and fished her nunu right back out. Then, as if nothing had happened, she sat back down and popped it into her mouth.

The triplets groaned.

“Bro, how is she so smart?” Chris whined.

“Okay, okay, let’s try something else,” Matt whispered.

The second attempt was even more planned out. This time, they turned on Y/N’s favorite movie, Frozen, and right when she started singing along, Nick sneakily swapped her nunu with a stuffed animal.

For a few seconds, it seemed like it worked.

But then—

“WHERE. IS. MY. NUNU?!”

Y/N’s little face scrunched up, and her brothers panicked.

“Uh—uh, Chris did it!” Matt blurted.

Chris’s eyes went wide. “BRO?!”

But before Y/N could throw a full tantrum, Nick quickly gave her back the nunu. Instantly, she calmed down, hugging her stuffed animal with one hand while keeping the pacifier in her mouth.

Matt sighed in defeat. “I give up.”

Chris slumped onto the couch. “Yeah, me too.”

Nick shook his head. “You win, Y/N. You win.”

Y/N simply smiled around her nunu. “I know.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

What remains of us, pt. 3

Summary: Teaching Y/N some new tricks while making his way to her heart keeps Wally busy...a little too busy to notice others might want his happiness to crumble and turn Y/N against him.

Warnings: death, angst, mentions of mental health issues, fluff, mentions of a SCHOOL SHOOTING, swearing

Word count: 3.9k

Part 1 Part 2

Y/N sits cross-legged on a desk in the abandoned classroom, arms folded, watching Wally as he lazily tosses a crumpled piece of paper into a trash can. Ever since the music room, they’ve settled into a comfortable coexistence that neither wants to end. While Y/N’s mind occasionally went into overdrive, giving her a thousand reasons to create some distance, her heart, although no longer beating, wasn’t keen on being away for long. After all, Wally kept the sense of dread in the pit of her stomach disappear. All it takes is a smile…a single smile and she’d relax. No one ever made her feel this safe, not even when she was alive.

 "So, tell me, Wally. Any perks to being a ghost? Or is it all doom, gloom, and dramatic monologues?"

Wally smirks, leaning against the desk beside her. "Oh, absolutely. You get to be stuck with me forever. Pretty sweet deal, huh?"

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Wow. Eternal torment. Exactly what I was hoping for when I died."

He catches the way her face warms despite her sarcasm, and his grin widens. "You’re blushing."

"I am not."

"Liar."

Y/N huffs, pushing off the desk. "Let’s see if I can walk through walls to escape this conversation."

"You won’t." He follows her out, chuckling. "You like talking to me too much."

Taking it as a challenge, she rushes through empty classrooms, trying to lose Wally who laughed at her antics. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she hides in the library, behind the shelves, watching Wally run straight through and into the next room.

Chuckling, she leans back on the shelves. He’ll probably spend the next hour trying to find her – he’s not very good at hide and seek. Letting out a heavy breath, she tries to calm her breathing. It’s funny how her lungs still fight for breath after running, even in death. A lot of things have surprised her – she still craves food and can actually taste it, she gets tired, she feels pain, but also happiness and every other emotion. The only difference is: her heart is silent. Oh, and she can’t sleep. That one she hates most of all. Dreams used to be a perfect escape, but now? She actually has to go through the things she wants to ignore.

“Do you mind?” A voice startles her and she jumps in fright.

“Uh…Xavier, am I right?”

He nods, pressing his thin lips in a thinner line. “Yeah. And you’re in the way.”

Y/N steps aside but doesn’t move too far, her curiosity piqued by Xavier’s cold demeanor. He reaches for the book behind her, fingers ghosting over the worn spine before pulling it free. His electric blue eyes flicker to her, unreadable.

“I’ve heard about you,” he says casually, flipping through the pages without looking down.

“Oh?” Y/N crosses her arms. She didn’t expect ghosts to gossip and openly admit it to her face. “What is it they say? Weird, funny, clumsy?”

Xavier smirks, but there’s no humor behind it. “Naïve.”

Her brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“You trust him too much.” He tilts his head toward the door as if Wally might burst in at any moment. “He’s not telling you everything.”

The sense of dread returns in her stomach, but she forces herself to scoff. “Wally? He’s a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”

Xavier raises a dark brow. “You sure about that?”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “If you have something to say, say it.”

He tucks the book under his arm and steps closer, his presence strangely intense. “There were more of us,” he murmurs. “More ghosts than Wally let on.”

He didn’t let on anything…he never mentioned anything to her.

The room suddenly feels smaller. Y/N grips the edge of the shelf behind her, steadying herself. “You’re lying.”

He tilts his head, studying her reaction. “Am I?”

Before she can push further, the library doors creak open.

“Found you!”

Wally’s voice fills the space like sunlight breaking through a storm, and Y/N instinctively steps back from Xavier. Wally stands at the entrance, hands on his hips, breathless despite not needing air. His brown eyes flicker between her and Xavier, and something shifts in his expression.

Xavier merely smirks. “How predictable.”

Y/N glances between them. The air is thick with unspoken tension. Wally steps forward, placing himself subtly between her and Xavier. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to hide in a library, newbie.”

Y/N forces a smirk, ignoring the way her stomach twists. “I spent my whole life hiding in libraries. Should have known better.”

Wally chuckles, but his eyes don’t leave Xavier. “C’mon, I have something way more fun in mind.” He drapes an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, steering her toward the exit.

She lets him, but not without casting one last glance over her shoulder. Xavier is already flipping through the book again, seemingly unbothered.

As soon as they step into the hallway, Wally’s grip tightens just slightly. “What did he say to you?”

Y/N shrugs. “Not much. Just that you suck at hide and seek.”

Wally snorts, but she doesn’t miss the way his jaw tenses.

He throws on a grin, nudging her playfully. “Well, lucky for you, I’m much better at football.”

She raises a brow. “Is this your way of charming me?”

His grin doesn’t waver. “Is it working?”

She pretends to consider before sighing dramatically. “Fine, I’ll let you teach me. But I swear, if this is just an excuse to tackle me - ”

“Would I do that?” His eyes gleam with mischief, and she can’t help but laugh.

As they walk toward the field, though, the weight of Xavier’s words lingers in her mind. Wally is hiding something. And she’s going to find out what.

The football field is eerily quiet at night, the goalposts casting long, crooked shadows across the empty expanse. The sky is speckled with stars, but Y/N barely notices. Her focus is on Wally, who stands a few feet away, spinning a football between his hands like it’s second nature. The way he moves is effortless, like he was made for this, and for the first time, she wonders what it must have been like to watch him play when he was alive. No wonder he was so popular with the girls…she’d probably be secretly head over heels for him too.

She folds her arms, eyeing the ball warily. “Just so you know, I have terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“All the more reason to practice.” Wally grins, tossing the ball up and catching it with ease. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”

She exhales, rolling her shoulders before stepping forward. “Fine, but don’t expect a miracle.”

He passes her the ball, and she fumbles almost immediately, letting out a frustrated groan as it bounces off her fingers and onto the grass. Wally barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Wow.” He places a hand over his heart as if her lack of talent actually pains him. “That was… tragic.”

Y/N huffs, picking up the ball and tossing it back at him, badly. It veers off course, and he lunges to catch it before it hits the ground.

“Okay, okay, new plan,” Wally says, stepping closer. “You need to get a feel for the weight first.”

He moves behind her before she can protest, so close she can feel the ghost of his warmth, not that ghosts are supposed to be warm...But Wally is. His hands slide gently over her wrists, guiding her fingers around the ball. She swallows hard.

"Relax," he murmurs, his voice low, almost teasing. "You’re way too tense."

Easy for him to say. He’s not the one hyperaware of how close they are, how his chest nearly brushes against her back, how his breath tickles the side of her neck. Butterflies! Actual, fluttering, traitorous butterflies stir in her stomach.

"Okay," he continues, oblivious to the way her pulse would be racing if her heart still worked. "Hold it like this." His fingers brush hers, his grip steady as he adjusts her stance. "Now, when you throw, flick your wrist a little, just like that."

She follows his lead, but she barely registers the motion. All she can focus on is the way his voice dips when he speaks close to her ear, the way her skin tingles where he touches her. It’s ridiculous, really, she’s supposed to be dead. She shouldn’t be feeling like this.

Wally, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil, steps back slightly, watching her attempt another throw. The ball leaves her hand smoother this time, though it still wobbles. He lets out an approving whistle.

"See? You’re getting there."

She turns her head to look at him, their faces suddenly inches apart. She hadn’t realized just how close he still was. Her nose nearly grazes his cheek, and she can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes under the field lights.

"Are we still talking about football?" she asks, her voice quieter than before.

For the first time, Wally hesitates. His smirk falters, just for a second, his eyes flickering down to her lips before he clears his throat and steps back, too fast, too obvious.

"Uh. Yeah. Totally," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/N nods slowly, letting the moment settle between them, the air thick with something unspoken. She tosses the ball up, catching it with a smirk of her own.

"Good," she says lightly, "because I was starting to think you were just looking for an excuse to hold my hand."

Wally groans, covering his face with his hands. "For someone who calls me a jock cliché, you seem to enjoy every bit of it."

Shrugging innocently, she heads to the bleachers. “Maybe I do.”

They both pretend not to notice the way their fingers still tingle, as Wally follows her. Taking a seat a few rows down from her, he glances up with uncertainty.

“You’re staring.”

Clearing her throat, she bites her lower lip and his cheeks darken at the sight and consequent thoughts immediately.

“Are you sure you’re not projecting?”

“Nope! You were definitely staring first. I think I might be winning you over”, he smirks victoriously. “No one can resist this charm!”

Wally stretches out on the bleachers, hands behind his head, while Y/N pulls her knees up, arms wrapped around them.

“I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You’re eighteen.”

Wally turns to her, one brow arching. “I was eighteen.”

“Still are.”

“Physically.” He props himself up on an elbow, looking at her like she’s the one being unreasonable. “Mentally, I’ve attended high school like… five times since I died. Do you know how many books I’ve read? How many new things I’ve learned? I’m practically a walking encyclopedia.”

Y/N gives him a flat look. “You just called yourself a walking encyclopedia. That’s not really helping your case.”

Wally groans, flopping back dramatically. “Okay, fine. But seriously, I’m older than you if we’re counting ghost years. Which means technically, I'm the creepy one.”

She swats at him, nearly falling as she fails to reach him, which only makes him grin.

“That is not how that works.”

“Oh, but it does.” He sits up, suddenly animated, pointing at her like he’s won an argument. “You’re the one crushing on an older man, Y/N.”

Pulling herself down to one row above him, she purses her lips. “I am not crushing on you.”

“Yet.”

She shoves him, laughing despite herself. But in the quiet that follows, she wonders if maybe, just maybe, she already is.

The wind hums, slowly picking up speed. Y/N traces patterns in the dirty bleachers with her fingers. "I never really thought about love," she admits.

Wally rests his arms on his knees. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "I was always too busy. Making my parents proud, getting good grades, getting into a good school…College, residency, life. Then, well…" She gestures vaguely at their ghostly existence. “I’ve read so many romance books and watched an insane amount of romcoms, but I’ve never really experienced any of it. All the things I wanted, just…disappeared.”

Wally watches her carefully. "I never really thought about the future," he confesses. "I figured I’d always have more time. Turns out, I didn’t." Huffing, he frowns. “I never fell in love with anyone before, either. I got close once…I thought I’d have someone to share this with, but it didn’t work out.”

“This?” Was Xavier right? Did Wally lie to her?

“I mean life”, he blurts out. “I was pretty popular, had everything going for me. I mean, I like football and I was really good at it, but it’s not something I chose for myself. I played for my mom. She, uh, she really wanted me to go pro.”

Their eyes meet, something heavy passing between them. Y/N looks away first, cheeks turning a darker shade.

"Maybe we’ve got time now," Wally says softly.

She doesn’t answer. Wrapping her hand around his bicep, she leans her head on his shoulder.

Perhaps that says enough.

After a few days of teaching her to toss a football, Wally decided to give her a few ghostly lessons she could use in the spirit world…lessons he didn’t learn until a few years back.

The cafeteria is quiet in the early morning, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly as the lunch lady moves around the kitchen, setting out trays for the day. Outside, the hallways are still empty, but soon, the school will come alive with students; living ones.

Y/N leans against the doorframe, watching Wally carefully.

“Alright,” he says. “Basic ghost physics lesson: We can touch things, yeah, but what you’re grabbing isn’t really the item. It’s like…a duplicate. A placeholder. The real thing resets as soon as you take it.”

Y/N frowns. “So what’s the point?”

“The point,” he says, “is learning how to actually move something. Not just its copy. The trick is to focus. You have to latch onto the real thing, feel the weight, the texture, the way it connects to the world. And then, you gotta make it stay in your hands.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it is,” he says with a smirk. “That’s why we’re gonna make it interesting.”

Her eyes narrow. “Go on.”

“First one to steal something without it resetting in the living world wins.”

Y/N snorts. “You’re on.”

They creep inside, the scent of fresh bread and coffee lingering in the air. The lunch lady hums to herself as she unpacks a crate of produce, oblivious to the two ghosts slipping past the counter.

Y/N eyes a bag of chips, reaching for it carefully. She reminds herself of what Wally said—feel the weight, the texture. Her fingers close around the bag, and for a moment, she swears she has it. But as soon as she pulls it away, a perfect replica flickers into her grip while the real bag remains untouched on the counter, as if she never moved it at all.

She curses under her breath.

Wally, a few feet away, is eyeing a bright red apple. He exhales slowly, his expression shifting into something serious, focused. His fingers tighten around the fruit, and for a long second, nothing happens. Then, ever so subtly, the apple shifts. The real one. He rolls the apple between his fingers like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It isn’t. She knows that much.

Y/N watches as he lifts it smoothly off the counter. The spot where it sat stays empty.

No regeneration. No reset.

Her jaw drops. “No way.”

Wally grins, triumphantly spinning the apple once more before gripping it solidly. “Way.” He winks at her, tossing the apple up and catching it effortlessly.

Y/N huffs. “Alright, let me try again.”

She refocuses, staring down the bag of chips like it’s personally offended her. She presses her fingers against it, feeling the crinkle of the plastic, the weight of the contents inside. She focuses on making this one, the real one, stay in her grip.

For a second, it works.

The bag lifts, no reset in sight.

Her heart…well, not her heart, but something inside her buzzes in excitement.

Then, without warning, the real bag flickers back into place, and she’s left holding its copy.

“Damn it!” she whisper shouts.

Wally chuckles. “Not bad for a first try. Here, watch.”

He moves toward the stack of trays by the counter, placing a hand on the top one. This time, Y/N studies him closely. She sees the way his brow furrows, the way his shoulders tense as if he’s physically exerting himself.

The tray lifts.

Barely, just an inch, but it lifts.

Then, just as suddenly, it wavers, slipping right back into place. A second later, the tray duplicates into his hands, proving he lost his grip on the real thing.

He groans. “Ugh. See? Even I can’t do it every time.”

Y/N tilts her head. “And yet, you got the apple?”

“Beginner’s luck,” he jokes. “Or maybe I’m just better than you.”

She flicks his ear. “Cheater.”

“Ow,” he grumbles, rubbing the spot. “It’s called strategy.”

“You and your strategies.”

“Hey, you’ll get there,” he says, tossing the apple once before taking a victorious bite. “But until then… I win.”

Y/N glares playfully but secretly, she’s itching to try again. And she will. Because if Wally can do it, then so can she.

“Okay, so…What do you want as your reward?”

Raising his eyebrows, Wally wets his lips. For a moment, his gaze flickers lower, to her supple, parted lips but he quickly averts his eyes to the bags of chips in her hands. “I’ll settle for some chips if you’re willing to share?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she studies his nervous smile. “Sure. If that’s what you really want?”

Clearing his throat, he nods. “Y-yeah! I love chips!”

Once they devoured the chips, the crowded halls sent them into hiding. Being around the students wasn't enjoyable, for either of them. They waited for the sunset, agreeing to relax on the bleachers again.

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Wally and Y/N head outside. As they pass by the library’s grand, dust-coated windows, a strange sensation prickles at the back of her neck. Like being watched. Her gaze flickers to the glass, and there he is.

Xavier.

His electric blue eyes are locked onto her, sharp and unreadable, framed by the dim glow of the emergency exit light. The sight of him standing so still, almost blending into the shadows, sends a cold shiver rippling down her spine. Her breath catches, a quiet gasp escaping before she can stop it.

Beside her, Wally tenses. “Are you okay?” Wally furrows his brows, pulling away ever so slightly. His voice is softer now, laced with concern. “I’m sorry I jus –“

“It’s not that”, she cuts him off quickly, shaking her head. Wally hesitates, watching her closely, but the moment she realizes he’s about to pull away entirely, she forces herself to speak.  “I didn’t mind your arm around me”, she clarifies. If anything his touch is warm, grounding. She doesn’t mind it…it feels nice, comforting.

His eyes brighten, relief chasing away the panic. “Yeah?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, tentative, as if he worries showing too much happiness would scare her away.

“What was it then?” he asks, and she can feel his eyes on her, searching for an answer beyond what she’s willing to give.

Shrugging, she averts her gaze. “I’m just a little cold, I guess.”

Lie.

Wally might not know everything about her yet, but he knows her. And he knows when she’s holding something back.

Taking off his jacket, he drapes it over her. “Here you go”, he murmurs.

Her breath hitches as he cups her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. His touch is careful, as if he’s afraid she might pull away. She doesn’t. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

She leans into his touch without thinking, the warmth of his palm spreading through her like the first rays of morning sunlight. For a moment, it’s easy to forget the eerie gaze lingering behind glass, easy to forget the weight of all the things she doesn’t say.

Her lips curl into a small smile. “You worry too much,” she tells him and he’s not entirely sure if he should just drop this or not, but if she’s not willing to talk to him about it, there’s not much he can do.

“When you’re involved, I’d rather worry too much than not worry enough,” Wally admits.

The sincerity in his voice makes her chest tighten. Here he is, the sweetest man she’s ever met and she’s doubting him. She could just ask him about it, but what if he lies to her face? She’d never be able to relax around him again. She’d lose him and she can’t lose him…he’s all she has.

“Thank you. For caring…and for the jacket.”

“You wear it better than I do.”

Y/N raises a brow. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I doubt that,” he says, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eyes. She scoffs, making him laugh. Whenever he flirts, Y/N scoffs in response yet she never leaves his side. Scoffing might be her love language and if his theory is true, Wally will gladly spend the rest of eternity listening to her scoff at his cheesy pick-up lines.

Relishing in the light pink tint upon her cheeks, Wally offers her his hand. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Squinting at his question, she inhales sharply. “Dance…to what?”

“We don’t need music to dance,” he smirks. “Live a little.”

“I’m literally dead,” she reminds him. “As are you.”

“And yet we’re here.”

She hesitates, then places her hand in his. He pulls her close, guiding her in slow circles. Their bodies brush, lingering a little too long.

"You’re not bad at this," she murmurs.

He smirks. "Don’t sound so surprised."

She rolls her eyes, but her heart isn’t in it. Not when his thumb traces small circles on the back of her hand.

“You always roll your eyes at me,” he states. “Why is that?”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

“Brutally,” he replies instantly.

Drawing in a deep breath, she can’t help the smile spreading across her lips. “You make me nervous.”

“Oh.”

“In a good way”, she admits. “In a way I’m not sure I’m ready to accept yet.”

Grinning, Wally nods. “Okay. I can work with that.”

Rolling her eyes – another part of her love language. Wally won’t forget that anytime soon.

Erasing the distance between their bodies, she leans her head on his chest, her arms wrapping around him. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply – committing his scent to memory. He smells like laundry detergent and freshly mowed grass…clean and fresh.

Pressing a soft kiss on top of her head, Wally couldn’t suppress his smile even if he tried. He’s happy. For the first time in a long time, he’s truly happy. Humming a soft tune, he continues swaying their bodies in this slow dance, cherishing every moment they spend close for you never know when everything might change.

He learned that lesson the hard way.

[lin-ay]

English is my third language, German my first and Russian my second. I’m going to try and involve the languages into the story. That doesn’t have to mean that the reader is German or Russian, it just means that they speak more than just English! Tho the reader will not be born in an English speaking country. If the reader speaks in their native language it will be written like this: “{Hi!}”

Please correct me if I use a word wrong, forgot a word or similar things.

~pretty girl~

Part 1

PART 2

Last time:

“Damian Wayne.” His voice was deep but welcoming, (Name) didn’t know why but she felt his voice kind of calming and grounding.

Now:

“It’s nice to meet you!” (Name) stretched her hand out for him to shake, she hoped his hand would feel as welcoming as his voice sounds.

It quickly got awkward as Damian only gave her a side glance, ignoring (Name)s outstretched hand.

(Name)s let out a scoff and let her hand fell to her side. “So… you guys ready or…?”

Jon and Mia, finally stopped talking, apologized and Jon opened the car door for Mia and (Name) to step in. He and Damian went for the front seats, Jon behind the wheel.

“So Mia whose Party is this?”

“Some girl I met when we took a pre course for something.”

(Name) nodded and laid her head on the window, she looked into the rear(?) mirror and catches the sight of green eyes staring right back. (Name) didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, she didn’t want him to think she is imitated by him because she is not. He is just some random, handsome guy who basically shits money.

After a 15 minute drive they arrived at a pretty fancy and big house.

(Name) felt her excitement coming back, just because some guy was not interested in talking to her doesn’t mean she can’t have fun with someone else.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Damian watched (Name) from a distance, as she was sitting on some girls lap, making out with her as she let out moans.

Jon and Mia were flirting like little high school kid, which is not to unusual for Jon but even the usually confident Mia was blushing, stuttering and what not.

Damian didn’t know why people like to party, he didn’t mind it but the loud music and the crowded space made his head turn in a weird way.

His look went back to (Name) again, she was still making out messily with the same brunette. (Name) smiled as the other girl whispered something into her ear. He saw them both stand up and disappear somewhere upstairs.

Damian had a weird felling but he ignored it, he didn’t know (Name) but her bright smile just wouldn’t leave his mind.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(Name) let out moans as the brunette named Lara sucked on her neck and touched her in ways she could only imagine doing to herself.

(Name)s hand went up to Lara’s hair and gripped, Lara moaned quietly and (Name) put her lips upon Lara’s.

Lara pushed (Name) down and they both started to undress themselves. Lara pushed herself between (Name)s legs so their cunts will rub against when Lara starts grinding. When she did, they both let out different types of moans, Lara’s moans were breathy and more like quite gasps of (Name)s name and (Name)s moans were load and she basically screamed Lara’s name.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Damian was sitting on one of the coaches, when Mia and Jon joined him.

“Hey Damian have you seen (Name)? I really want to go home but I can’t find her.”

“She went with some brunette girl, they were making out.”

Mias eyes turned wide and she looked a bit spooked. “Did the girl have short hair, curls, with green earrings?”

Damian’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowly nodded.

“That girl has been stalking (Name) now for days, (Name) didn’t seem to notice so I didn’t say anything but I heard stuff about her. (Name) apparently isn’t her first crush and the last time the girl was beaten up because the girl didn’t want to do some kinky shit!”

Damian and Jon shared a glance as Mia babbled about the stalker.

Jon asked with a hesitant voice. “You’re sure the girl is staking (Name)?”

“Pretty sure, everywhere we go I see her making heart eyes at (Name) and I even overheard her telling her friends how (Name) smelt so good like vanilla and she also said she wished she could see what was clinging to her delicious curves.”

[pa-pa-patato]

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and Bendy was unhappy.

He didn’t hate the holiday quite the contrary he loved it, Usually, he’d mostly spend it by fake whining to his brother for not having a date despite the fact he didn’t ask anyone and Boris would let him put on a show for a few minutes or more depending on his mood, and he would then be offered to spend the day together like that wasn’t the plan all along and they’d have a fun day out. To be honest they liked the day after Valentine’s Day more cause all the sweets would be 50% off.

Unfortunately, he won’t be spending the day with his brother, Felix came to them yesterday asking if they’d like to come with him to spend the day in the circus cause they are doing something special and Boris immediately agreed of course but for the past few days, Bendy for the life of him couldn’t handle loud noises so he had to decline and made sure they both knew he was fine spending the day by himself.

Felix probably let it go easily cause Alice was back yay And assumed he’d ask her on a date.

And it’s not like he didn’t want to spend the day with her well he kinda didn’t. But he knew she wasn’t interested in that so that was that.

For the first time since he remembers he’s gonna spend the day alone.

“Hey bends you doing anything tomorrow?” Holly’s cheerful voice snapped him back, “Huh-oh no, I’m not why?” The smile she gave him was blinding “Wanna spend the day with me?”

“…what?” His face must have looked funny cause Holly tried to cover his laughter as she spoke “As friends silly, don’t worry this isn’t some out-the-blue love confession” he immediately sighed in relief, Holly is one the best people he ever met but he really didn’t want anything romantic happening between them, she understood him cause the hit that landed his shoulder had no real anger behind it.

Guess he isn’t spending the day alone after all.

The next morning he actually woke up pretty early even before the Cupbros, Bendy got up waved at Mugs to signal everything was okay and that he could go back to sleep and went down to help Granny with breakfast.

As they cooked more and more people came downstairs to either help or just relax a bit before it was finished and when it was they all came to the table talking with one another.

A little after breakfast people began going out having plans of their own pretty much the only people left in the house were Dr. Oddswell, Cuphead, Alice and Bendy.

Alice kept looking at him kinda nervously while Cup was watching the TV “Umm- Bendy?-” Suddenly the door opened revealing Holly. She was wearing a simple white dress with little flower patterns and a white cardigan, she looked stunning so stunning he didn’t notice Cup sharply sucking in breath while Alice showed annoyance for a quick second before changing her expression back to natural.

“Why hello there beautiful” Bendy flirted, just because they’re friends doesn’t mean he can’t compliment the girl “Hello yourself handsome” Holly giggled playfully rolling her eyes.

Both completely missed the glares their best friends gave them.

“What’s going on here?” Alice gritted through her teeth, “Oh I convinced this guy spend Valentine’s Day with me!” Holly replied happily as Bendy pulled something out of his pocket “For you m’lady” he pressed the little box in her hand.

Holly gasped as she opened the Box to reveal a sunflower hair clip “It’s gorgeous!” Bendy purred at the praise he was glad he found it while shopping with Felix, it looked like something she’d like and he was right!

Holly giggled as she put her hair up and added the hair clip, “Ready to go?” She asked both already feeling excited.

Bendy nodded and got up they waved goodbye to Alice and Cup and left, as they walked Holly explained how she made a reservation in a restaurant nearby, some time later they ended up holding hands and neither of them stopped once they realized it.

They spend their whole time there listening to the couple next to them who were fighting their jaws dropped when the wife revealed that she knew about her husband’s affair and had slept with not only his brother but his father too, when they finally got asked to leave everyone in the restaurant starting talking to each other about the couple and they ended up having a blast talking with everyone there.

They decided to go to the beach afterward and it was nice talking to Holly, guess it’s given since she never tried killing him or hated him for being a demon…. It was very nice on the beach!

Bendy shared how he can’t wait to snag cheep sweets tomorrow and Holly immediately offered to join, Before he could agree he spotted Alice and Cup in the distance.

He waved at them without a second thought making Holly realize their presence, and they saw both of them suddenly go under a wall “…Did they fall?” Bendy asked nervously “I-I think they did” Holly answered as equally nervous as him.

After a short moment, they both got back up and waved back at them like nothing happened. They decided to just ignore them and continue with their walk.

They finished the ‘date’ by staying out late watching the stars in silence.

Bendy walked her home both giggling the whole way back, as Holly unlocked her Door he joked

“What? I don’t get a kiss goodbye?” Holly rolled her eyes as she bent down and kissed him. On the lips. Both stayed in silence for moments before she broke it “Oh I-I meant to kiss you on the cheek”. And with that, they burst out laughing making Ebi come out to yell at them for making a ruckus.

He waved the girls goodbye and went off.

Once Bendy got back to the house he ran into Cup, The man didn’t seem particularly happy and he didn’t wanna ruin the good mood everyone had so he just smiled and went around him not saying a word.

Felix and Boris were already back and they brought the Micky crew with them, Felix waved at him while his brother immediately went to him to hug him as he excitedly talked about all that happened.

Red called them out for dinner making Bendy almost run into Alice who was suddenly beside him “Whoops sorry” Alice only nodded walking beside him to the dining room.

Everyone was talking about how the day went for them happy smiles filling the room, well except for Cuphead who looked annoyed and he was pretty sure Alice was fake smiling. “How was your day Bendy?” Felix’s voice stood out from everyone making Bendy turn already smiling “It was great! I had a lovely time with Holly-” Boris immediately gasped at him his hand on his chest, Felix looked a bit nervous and confused but Bendy was already playfully rolling his eyes at his brother.

“I can not believe it! You guys are dating!?” He yelled out making everyone look at them “We aren’t dating we went out as friends” He clarified trying not to laugh as his brother fake whined trying to look hurt “I can’t believe it! I should have known when you declined to hang out with us today! I always knew you’d replace me with a cute girl but I didn’t think it’d be like this!” Boris continued face whining and everyone around caught on that this was just a bit.

“Oh yeah she’ll join us tomorrow when we go out to the store for sweets” Boris let out another cry of betrayal making everyone laugh.

Everyone except Alice and Cuphead.

After that day things were different Bendy and Holly were much more friendly around each other, not like they weren’t friends before but now it’s like they’ve known each other for years.

Bendy also noticed he didn’t mind Holly’s touch unlike everyone else, And she decided to take full advantage of that fact.

Every time the two were in the same room they had some sort of physical contact with each other, whether it was hand-holding or one of their hands ending up around their waist, thighs and shoulders, they were always touching each other In some way.

No one minded this new thing of theirs, At least they thought they didn’t.

Cuphead and Alice began separating them, they didn’t just go over to them and forcefully separate them of course. They just call them over to help them or casually pull them apart, they didn’t even notice it was what they were doing until Cala pointed it out to them.

They aren’t angry, annoyed yes but not angry.

To be completely honest.. he and Holly turned it into a game.

They started being practically all over each other to see how the two would react. It was funny to see their reactions but they didn’t get why they were acting like this.

But it didn’t matter. Not now at least

Holly and Bendy had their fun while Cuphead and Alice continued without having to explain why they were doing it in the first place

Win-win.

Credits to @alexmae79 for the prompt :3

[days-until-burnout]

Day 127 -

Characters - Skizz + Joel ft. Tango, Jimmy & Gem Words - 1,148 Time - 45 mins Content - Diner AU

It’s late night by then, and all Skizz can think about is closing up shop and hitting the hay for the next decade. He can hear the dying sizzles and the clanking pans, and outside, the diner is quiet aside from the radio and the game replays. He throws a towel over his shoulder, piling up some pans and throwing some utensils into the water, in time for the back door to swing open with a loud yawn. 

He turns to see Tango walking in, the same exhaustion down his face. 

Shortly after, Jimmy walks over, leaning into the kitchen window with a droopy smile and equally tired eyes. 

“Day’s over,” Jimmy yawns, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm before straightening and stretching. He pats the counter, giving them the nod to start cleaning up. Not that they need to be told twice, seeing as the place is empty and the clock is dangerously close to two in the morning. 

They fall into a classic rhythm, turning up the radio to motivate themselves into staying awake. Their singing is off-key and sharp, playing up to stay aware, laughing. Soon enough, Jimmy joins them, shaking his head with a sigh, grabbing a rag to wipe down counters as Tango washed the dishes and Skizz cleaned up the stove. 

After refilling their immediate fridge, Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, kicking the empty box against the fridge. When he speaks, they can all tell he’s fighting off another yawn, “Oh, also, there’s like, a guy still outside. Guy and girl, I should say.”

Tango raises a brow, looking at him over his shoulder. His lips quirked into a smirk. “What? Trouble-makers?”

Jimmy shakes his head. 

“A’ight, a’ight, no fighting,” Skizz jumps in, waving his hand. “I’ll tell ‘em to get off our property—”

“And clean the toilets,” Tango adds quickly, giggling. 

Jimmy stifles a laugh behind his fist, giving Skizz an innocent shrug. 

“And clean the toilets,” Skizz sighs, shoulders dropping. 

Skizz tosses the towel against Tango’s shoulder, his laughter echoing as he leaves the kitchen through the swinging doors. The dining area is empty, though it doesn’t take long to find the pair, easily following their giggles and chatter. Tucked in the furthest booth, both of them hunkered down onto the table, giggling like children with a chocolate milkshake and a strawberry milkshake half-drank. 

“A’ight, buds, start headin’ to the door soon.”

The pair looked up at him, nestled in their crossed arms, like they didn’t hear what he said. Despite looking down at them, Skizz felt like he is under them, being watched and examined. He clears his throat, trying again to get an authoritarian air to his person. 

“We are closing in twenty minutes. And if you don’t want to be locked in, I suggest you grab your milkshakes and head out now.”

The girl of the pair tucks orange curls behind her ear, whispering like he isn’t standing in front of them, “Whaddya think?”

“Bossy,” the guy with brown hair replies. The girl nods, curling onto her arm a little more. “And beefy.”

“You are so gay,” she scolds in a monotone voice, and Skizz swears they are blinking at the same time. Something about them makes his skin crawl, but he stays in place as they do. “So very gay, Joel.”

“Shuddup.” 

The guy, Joel, hisses which makes the girl break into a couple giggles. She closes her eyes, sighing as she drags herself up, sliding off the seat onto her feet. Though he tries to not look, he notices the black books and ripped jeans, some jacket tied at her waist and a white singlet. 

“Heading to the toilet, be right back,” she hums, tapping her fingers on the table as Joel faceplants on it, groaning before dragging himself up too. She hops on her way, stopping just a step from Skizz, and looks up at him with a wide smile. “The burger was very good, by the way. The milkshakes, though, are way too sweet.”

Skizz watches her shadow leave, stunned into silence before looking back at the table, only to see Joel half-sitting up, mostly perched on his arm. His cheek was full on the heel of his palm, brown eyes staring right at him. 

“I’m not gay,” Joel offers unprompted, which makes Skizz drop his mouth without words. “She is, though,” he continues, tilting his head into his hand a little more, “bi, or whatever. Swings both ways.”

“I—” He manages finally, flustered at his pathetic attempt.  

Joel chuckles, amused. Then he pulls himself out of the booth, grabbing his milkshake glass by the rim, dragging it along to the edge of the table. He slides himself on the edge too, leaning against it nonchalantly, rolling the glass by the base, head tilted slightly. 

And then, Skizz notices the mirror outfit on him from her. 

He sucks a breath in, clenching and unclenching his fists by his side before breathing out. And Joel watches meanwhile, entertained with his hesitation.

“I don’t care,” he manages to say eventually, which drives no reaction from Joel. Not quite indifference, but there is a distinct lack of reaction from him. He sighs, shaking his head as he rubs the back of his neck. “Look, you two, I don’t particularly care who you are. New faces, I know. Whatever you’re here to do, don’t make trouble, a’ight?”

Joel chuckles, resting the apple of his cheek on his shoulder, eyes closed and a small grin on his lips. He looks peaceful, almost charming like this. No biting words or attitude, rather approachable, even cute. 

Huh. 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on yous,” he adds in, trying to sound threatening but his voice cracks. And Joel peeks an eye open, curious. “Yeah! Small town, we in everyone’s business so I will hear if yous cause trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Joel hums, bringing the milkshake to his lips. He catches the straw with his tongue, holding his gaze as his lips wrap around it, taking a long sip before resting it on his knee, giving way to watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down with a gulp. Skizz subconsciously copies, his lips dry and his tongue heavy. “We’ll be outta your hair soon.”

Joel’s eyes flicker behind his shoulder, and the footsteps follow shortly after. Joel places the glass back on the table, pushing himself onto his feet with a playful smile, like the tense air between them didn’t exist. 

“Well then,” Gem chirps with a clap, and Joel walks around Skizz to the door, and he follows them to keep to his word. “Did ya get his number?” She laughs, and Joel pushes her shoulder out. 

Joel follows behind her, looking behind his shoulder, flashing Skizz a quick wink and a smile before letting the door close, the bell cutting the interaction.

_____

[click for a random day]

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ guess who's back in the building

[dragomfry]

Artistic Analysis of Saezuru’s Covers (Vol 1-9)

What I’ve always loved about Yoneda Kou’s writing and art style is her subtlety and attention to detail. Compared to other BL styles, her style is not as exaggerated in its emotions. The characters’ emotions are consistently written and drawn very down-to-earth, realistic, and/or nuanced/subtle (besides the exaggerations in comedic moments). Her art style is simple yet detailed just enough to be very pleasing to the eye.

All of her cover illustrations are clever and rife with detail. In this post, I’ll be examining my interpretation on the meaning of each cover’s design up to volume 9.

Volume 1

The first cover is simply iconic. On a surface level, it shows exactly what type of story you expect you’re getting into, so it draws in its audience. But artistic nuances show that there’s a twist to this story.

Yashiro is caught in a compromising position, arms behind his back, resting his head on some man’s bare foot, which indicates his submissiveness. And that man could be any man, not just Doumeki (or the love interest). This emphasizes the impersonal aspect of sex to Yashiro, which shows that this isn’t going to be your typical romantic BL between two partners. We also learn that Yashiro is in control of all these sexual encounters. In traditional BL manga, the partner that takes the bottom or uke position is typically seen as the “weaker/more timid” individual (which, for some reason, are commonly interpreted as being more “feminine” traits), but clearly this isn’t the case with this story. Therefore, the cover is empowering. At this point, Yashiro is confident and has reclaimed a sense of control over his sexuality.

Volume 2

This cover is bold, in a quiet way.

It deviates completely from the first one, making the whole environment the focus and not the main character. This type of cover design is especially rare for manga, which typically grab your attention with the character(s) front and center. The style of characters being enlarged and shown on the cover is commonly used, as, obviously, it’s very marketable. It easily draws the attention of potential readers (weren’t you captivated by Yashiro on that first cover?). However, the 2nd cover is extremely subtle, and it’s truly the mark of an artist who cares about the story she is telling, not just the hot scenes. It’s admirable. I will never stop respecting Yoneda-sensei for being so confident in challenging established tropes and themes.

This cover forces you to look closer at the details. It’s saying, “Hey, this story isn’t just about lust, but something deeper and more mature.” Upon closer inspection, we see Yashiro standing alone, completely out in the open, soaking in a full suit in the rain. It shows just how little he cares for his own well-being, and the pessimistic desire to not do anything about it. He has been deeply affected by tragedy. He feels empty and insignificant, like a drop in the ocean, which the cover reflects by depicting him as just another person in the background.

The full cover reveals even more details. Others have already talked extensively about the beautiful symbolism of the rain and umbrellas (inspired by kyrieren’s Rain and Aiai Gasa posts). Doumeki rushes from the right, carrying an umbrella to shield Yashiro from the rain, or his semi self-imposed misery. Doumeki bringing the umbrella to Yashiro is symbolic of how he cares for Yashiro’s wellbeing, which Yashiro doesn’t “see” or fully notice the depth of at this point. The theme of seeing and not seeing is established from this point forward.

Volume 3

The body language is everything.

Their position, especially Yashiro’s position with his arms up and feet made bare, reflects a sexual one. This indicates how their relationship is becoming more intimate. But Doumeki still being in his shoes implies that they aren’t that far into it yet. It can also signify how Yashiro and/or Doumeki himself will not let him take off his shoes, or display his full vulnerability. Despite the bareness of Yashiro’s soles, which could imply openness, Yashiro pushes back with his legs and does not look Doumeki back in the eyes. Perhaps he’s, in fact, willfully being “blind” to Doumeki’s feelings and closing off his own. So Yashiro’s position, rather than reflect growing trust and openness, actually reflects how he wants to reduce their budding relationship to a purely physical one (like all his other sexual relationships). In contrast, Doumeki is staring intently at Yashiro, with his arms grasping Yashiro’s hands and pulling down the pants on his leg, keeping him in place. His intent is clear: to make Yashiro his. The way they’re both locked in place almost resembles a dance with its rhythm and balance. They’re both stuck in a position of their own makings, yet in a harmonious way. This cover masterfully conveys the psychological conflict and erotic situation between the characters.

Volume 4

Doumeki is staring determinedly, at whom? The audience, Yashiro, or both?

The cover of the extra story “A Flame in the Distance” makes it clear that Yashiro is not looking back at Doumeki, tying back into how Yashiro is willfully ignoring Doumeki’s and his own feelings.

It’s no secret that Yoneda-sensei puts great care into her symbolism. Both characters being placed in a field of wheat is likely very symbolic, but I could only find a few sources so far to explain the potential connections. According to those few sources, wheat symbolizes life, strength, and rebirth. In this case the wheat or the cover in general could symbolize Doumeki (because his name’s 力 means strength, power, force, etc). With this interpretation, volume 4 could act as Doumeki’s mindset in the story, and volume 2 would be Yashiro’s. In comparison to Yashiro’s gloomy, entrenched, and rainy attitude, Doumeki’s attitude is more cautiously optimistic and determined. The rebirth aspect of the wheat can also explain why they are both in the field; it’s because both have caused immense changes in each other. The brighter colors in the cover show how both have been the light in each other’s lives. Overall, the cover has an ominous or auspicious feel to it, but one thing is implied for sure: things are about to change. Doumeki and Yashiro are becoming extremely close.

Volume 5

Volume 5: the turning point of the series.

The cover’s design is simple, but everything is deliberately placed. We are put into the perspective of Doumeki, which makes the cover very intimate. Doumeki is on top and caresses Yashiro, who is undressed. Yashiro now looks directly up at Doumeki. This time, he cannot look away from his feelings. The last thing to mention is how Yashiro is almost positioned upside down, which indicates how everything is about to change. This all signals what we know is going to happen between them. They’re going to push the relationship to the farthest it’s ever been… and the result will be heartbreaking. A consistent theme among sources I found showed that the color white is symbolic of physical and spiritual purity as well as mourning and funerals. In this case, the white clothing symbolizes the tragedy of how Yashiro has been defiled by Doumeki, and how Doumeki is no longer pure in Yashiro’s eyes. The death of Yashiro’s sadomasochistic facade can also be symbolized with the white, because Doumeki has irrevocably changed Yashiro. Doumeki has made Yashiro fully realize things he never knew he so desperately wanted before: gentle touch, and most of all, genuine loving affection. Simultaneously, this volume has them both experience their best and worst moment.

Volume 6

While being less intimate than volume 5, volume 6’s cover still conveys a sense of closeness. Most of all, it conveys a sense of nostalgia and slight sadness.

Both are walking together in the night illuminated by city lights, Doumeki innocently following behind Yashiro, like how their relationship used to be. The cover’s cleverness comes from how it juxtaposes with the actual content of the volume, in which Yashiro is desperately trying and eventually succeeds in pushing Doumeki away from him now that they’ve gone so far. Volume 6’s cover is a swan song that pays homage to the romantic simplicity and gentle affection of their relationship, before everything changes…

Volume 7 and 8

By themselves, the covers seem unremarkable. But put side by side, the meaning and meta commentary become clear.

Doumeki and Yashiro have become physically separated. Both have grown up and matured. Doumeki is no longer the baby bird we remember. He looks more mature, dresses more seriously, has many scars on his face, and is wearing and surrounded by dark colors. This all reflects his mental growth and descent into darkness, or the yakuza. He is also turned away from Yashiro. Volume 7 is the complete opposite to volume 8. Yashiro dresses in and is surrounded by lighter colors. This reflects how he’s become more of a civilian and how he was actually never been as suited for the yakuza lifestyle as Doumeki. Yashiro has a contemplative expression, turning his head and body in a way to look directly at Doumeki. Now, Yashiro is aware of his feelings more than ever before, but Doumeki is not reciprocating so openly this time. *Forgot to mention, Doumeki is shown pulling off his glove with his mouth, his jacket is hanging loosely on him, and he’s taken off his shoe. He is much more comfortable in his sexuality now. On the other hand, Yashiro is shown to be covered more in his jacket and both of his shoes are still on, which could indicate his newfound impotence. Doumeki’s position is also more open than Yashiro’s more closed off one, showing their differences in confidence. In many ways, their roles have been reversed this arc.

Volume 9

Finally, we have the latest cover. Yashiro and Doumeki are working to re-establish a sense of closeness, but that warmth they possessed with their early relationship has not (yet?) resurfaced.

Doumeki once again looks directly at Yashiro. He is now trying to express his feelings for Yashiro, but at a distance because his hand is still gloved (or his mask of indifference is still on). It seems as if Yashiro is not looking directly at Doumeki, but that doesn’t mean he’s avoiding his feelings like in the previous covers. Rather, he is now trying to hide them. Still, Yashiro not looking at Doumeki shows that he tragically cannot “see” Doumeki’s feelings for him now. There is deliberate ambiguity with how Yashiro grasps Doumeki’s gloved hand, as evidenced by how Yoneda-sensei revealed other drafts with variations of Yashiro’s hand placement. Is Yashiro pulling Doumeki towards him, keeping him in place, or pushing him away from him? This ambiguity reflects Yashiro’s inner conflict and contradictions. Their winter clothing and the desaturated color scheme all symbolizes the emotional coldness of their current relationship. Both desperately want to express their feelings for each other, but both can’t yet, due to each other’s unwillingness to drop their masks.

And that’s where we left off.

[alwayshinny]

Hinny 💭

The fact that Harry Potter was going out with Ginny Weasley seemed to interest a great number of people, most of them girls, yet Harry found himself newly and happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks. After all, it made a very nice change to be talked about because of something that was making him happier than he could remember being for a very long time, rather than because he had been involved in horrific scenes of Dark Magic.

- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, p. 535