#i feel so honoured that some of these higher beings!! are willing to talk to me!!! feel like an ant getting to speak to a human sometimes~

[waterfallofspace]

Hello! I see you’re pretty new to tumblr, so I hope it’s okay to reach out and ask. I’m thinking about making a sneeze blog too but really nervous. In the mean time though I’ve gotten into some of the popular fandoms like J/J/K and Tri/gun! If you have the time and wouldn’t mind, do you think you could also recommend some other blogs like yours?

Have a nice day!

Hi~! Of course that's okay, I'd be happy to help!!

For people who write J/JK and T/rigun, there's a few that spring to mind, here's some of my friends/favourites!! (I'll also add a couple others who are just overflowing with talent, tags under the cut!

(Hope y'all don't mind the tag <33)

@whispsofsmokee (amazing t/rigun fics) @snzdreams (some of the best j/jk content i've EVER read!) @onetrickponi (not J/JK or T/rigun, but poni is INCREDIBLY talented, like insane talent. you won't be disappointed with her stuff, even if you don't know the fandom~~ One of the blogs I'd consider a DEITY on here truly.) @goodlucksnez (Same as above fandom wise, but AMAZING wavs. incredible talent from Vic!!) @ezynse (t/rigun and other stuff, great content!!) @bestwhumpist (uh?? the talent dripping?? from this blog?? insane. some of the best fics i've ever read full stop, t/rigun included~~ if ur reading this hi ily ur amazing~) @gemsden (has some GREAT j/jk content!) @ithadtobesneezing (not the ones mentioned, but great fics!! so much talent) @themiseryandcompany (few j/jk fics I believe, also just good content!!) @lycheeehehe (not posting fics, but INCREDIBLE headcanons, and just reblogs a LOT of j/jk and t/rigun content!!) @6pmsoup (hasn't posted a lot, but the art skills are insane, and there's a REAL cute j/jk piece that i adore~) Aaaand hopefully from them you can find even more that I'm either forgetting or haven't even found yet!! These guys are also all INCREDIBLY sweet. I've made some amazing friends~ Being nervous is totally understandable~ I made this blog but didn't interact with ANYONE for like a year, but every person I've interacted with has been so kind and welcoming!! I'm still a little anxious wreck about reaching out, but so many people (myself included!!) love to talk and gush about our interests~~ Thank you for the ask, I hope this is helpful~!! Have a nice day as well :D

[mj-dev]

Long Post

Someone said Rhysand is too perfect to be morally grey and I almost laughed. So, let’s dissect him a little.

Rhysand is the second villain in TAR who torments and abuses Feyre. In the end, he reveals his true nature and his intentions of breaking free from Amarantha’s curse. He saves Feyre from Tamlin when their relationship turns abusive and offers her a home where she heals and grows to love him. Along the way, he does many unspeakable things which has earned him the ‘morally grey’ label. But I disagree.

Before we get into this in-depth, first we need to talk about what makes a character white, black or grey.

When is a character grey?

Morally grey characters are interesting and have more facets to them which make them more relatable than a perfect hero or an absolute villain. But the problem is modern media and literature are so cluttered with them these days that no one even knows anymore what distinguishes a hero with a flaw from a villain with a virtue from the characters in between. Everyone is morally grey as long as they make one mistake or they have ‘a reason’. 

There are key aspects when fleshing out a character without which they don’t have a leg to stand on—goals, morals and choices. It’s complicated and not a fixed scale, but for brevity, let’s simplify.

Goals: Greater good vs self-serving. These characters have their own agenda which doesn’t root in the common good or evil, although they may indirectly result in a bigger impact. The more these goals lean towards one’s personal gain, they fall farther into the grey area.

Morals: Defined vs None. Almost all characters (except villains) come with a set of defined morals guiding their choices, which when aligns with the general ‘good’, the character lies close to the hero and if they are self-imposed, the character slides along the darker greys.

Chosen path: Ethical vs Malicious. Finally, if they choose honourable methods to achieve their goals, they are closer to being a hero.

(Yes, I made a damn chart. That's how dedicated I am to my hatred)

So, a basic grey character should have a set of self-imposed values that guide them and should be willing to take ethically ambiguous steps to achieve a personal goal that may or may not align with the common good.

How does Rhysand fare in all this?

In MAF, Rhysand opens up about his dreams for the first time. He wishes to live in a free world where the higher and lesser faeries can coexist peacefully. He even named his counsel as Court of Dreams to signify this. Throughout the series, he’s the icon of fairness, justice and autonomy, and it’s his vision of a better future that apparently drives his actions in the plot.

The entire foundation of his growth and redemption relies heavily on the argument that all his vile deeds have been for ultimate peace. Though his values are reiterated over and over again to support the good guy narrative, his actions contradict every single one of them. It’s a lot to explore in detail, so let’s pick the most obvious ones.

Peace

Rhysand claims to wear the mask of a villain for the sake of Night. Despite his grand dreams, he never allies with the other courts. He holds a grudge against Autumn for a personal reason which doesn’t even include him. When Summer extends an olive branch and is the first willing to trust Night after centuries, he steals an artefact from them. He isolates Spring because of what the previous High Lord did to his family during a war, and he continues this rivalry after the fall of Amarantha until Feyre destroys it completely, and some after that. He often breeds hostility with other courts, seeks them out and ruins any chance of peace, all because he wants to keep his facade up which beats his vision to build an eternal utopia.

And under Amarantha’s reign, he claims to attempt to dismantle her from within but when the opportunity is presented, he’s the first to sabotage it. Feyre is the key to breaking the curse and when he reads her mind and knows her feelings, if he truly cares for peace, he could have made a truce with Tamlin and helped him. Or he could have influenced Feyre to confess her true feelings sooner. Instead, he is the cause of Tamlin and Feyre’s capture which leads to…well, everything. (Honestly, I can go on and on this alone.)

Equality

Hadn’t Night been in tatters, his ‘bad guy’ act to protect his people would have had more credibility. Instead, Rhysand actively encourages the segregation of Illyrians and the subjugation of Hewn City. Despite his experience in the Illyrian camps and being a first-hand witness to the atrocities, he continues to allow the military abuse on children and has done little to ban wing-clipping.

His life Under the Mountain for 50 years is similar to that of his people in Hewn City, yet he rallies for their imprisonment solely based on his prejudice. When Keir is willing to settle for limited freedom, which is a moment of vulnerability from the big bad guy and quite a selfless request, Rhysand shuts it down instantly. He then pretends to grant that wish when he secretly orders Velaris to discriminate against them on their visit. Moreover, he allows the oppression of women in this city.

Rhysand isn’t a commoner fighting the system in his court. He’s a ruler. He sets the law, he is the law. And yet, he has abandoned any notion of reform as ‘change takes time’ when he’s been a High Lord for 500 years. For a man who dreams of eliminating discrimination, he actively enforces it himself. He doesn’t even wish to fix his court but wants other courts to get behind his vision of building a better world. This contradicts his dream of fairness among all species when he can’t even extend it to his own kind.

Justice

Rhysand refuses to hold himself or his IC or Feyre accountable for their atrocities. And yet he’s the first to judge someone and execute their punishment right away. He slaughters the remaining of the Illyrian bands who sided with Amarantha when he and IC abandoned their court, while he was playing her lackey for 50 years. He villainises Tamlin for the crimes he didn’t commit and constantly uses his powers to antagonise him. He also disrespects the laws and authority of other courts. During the High Lords meeting, he refuses to accept the possibility of Tamlin spying for Prythian but expects his excuses to be believed for the crimes he committed under Amarantha’s rule or before that. He’s heavily biased on which deeds are forgivable and who are worthy of his benevolence.

His sense of justice is askew and it’s obvious with how he views Feyre’s imprisonment against Nesta’s, or villainising Eris when it’s Keir who brutalised Morrigan, or IC’s treatment of Nesta in contrast to Elain.

Freedom and Autonomy

Rhysand uses the word ‘choice’ quite liberally emphasising the importance of freedom in his life. He fights against Amarantha for the same. But he allows agency to others only as long as it benefits him or doesn’t get in his way. He violates others’ minds whenever it pleases him, especially when he feels threatened. He often uses it to establish his control or dominance over others rather than out of necessity. He exploits his High Lord’s powers as well, like with Nesta and Azriel forcing them to submit to his will, especially in matters that don’t concern him. After the war, he imprisons Nesta because of her ‘uncontrollable’ behaviour while still condemning Tamlin for doing the same. He takes away Feyre’s bodily autonomy during her pregnancy.

Compassion and Empathy

He’s quick to distrust someone and never gives them the benefit of the doubt but he expects understanding from others. Despite his Daemati powers and often taking control of others’ minds, Rhysand refuses to believe their intentions. He’s been terrorising other courts since he claimed his title and yet, he wishes everyone to take his words for truth (Winter children massacre). He can’t forgive a man who made terrible choices to protect the woman he loves and yet he expects everyone to believe he abused Feyre for her safety. He can’t forgive a woman who made a mistake as a child and is misunderstood by everyone when he claims to have endured it all his life and longs to be seen. Even after 500 years, he doesn’t offer sympathy to Eris. Feyre is the only one to have received his true compassion to some extent, and it’s not proof of his morals—she is the exception.

Morals and Goals alone are not enough when all the characters are morally grey

A morally grey character still needs…well, morals. But in the case of Rhysand, they are malleable and ever-changing depending on how he feels at the moment or what the plot requires of him. He’s a dreamer but wouldn’t make a change in his court. He’s a feminist who wouldn’t free the women in his court. He’s a sexual abuse victim but sexually assaults someone to rile a man up. He’s a child abuse victim but allows it to continue for his army. He contradicts his own values so much that they are not just inconsistencies anymore.

For the sake of argument, let’s assume they are his internal conflict in upholding his morals or his hypocrisy because of his upbringing. In that case, his struggles to go through his decisions and the aftermath of the events give us an insight. Here are the four criteria a character must meet to be grey.

Recognition of the harm: Rhysand is aware of the consequences of his actions at all times.

Remorse: He expresses it on certain occasions when it directly impacts him or people close to him. However, his actions don’t support this as he rarely hesitates to carry forward with his plans.

Redemption: After the harm is done, Rhysand never changes his ways. He only apologises when the outcomes serve a purpose—like convincing Feyre, making up with Winter, or shutting Morrigan up about Keir. He never atones for his sins, not for forgiveness from others but for his conscience which is vital for a morally grey character.

Reasons: They are BS. His actions don’t truly amount to anything and definitely don’t lead him towards his said goal.

The ‘bad guy’ act may not be an act after all

In TAR, Rhysand does a lot of outright evil things to keep his facade. At no point in the series, does he pay the price for his actions, feel burdened by his choices, or strive to clear his name.

Instead, he’s excused with his backstory. None of his past truly explains his drive for his present actions, they don’t motivate him in any way but every good deed he’s praised to have done is a deliberate insertion to counteract the wrongs he committed. He assaults Feyre but he was exploited by Amarantha, harassed by Ianthe, and he saved the priestesses. He terrorises other courts and carries out Amarantha’s orders but he’s the martyr who sacrificed himself for his city (which is already protected and a secret from his own citizens). He only cares about the people of Velaris, but he saved Morrigan from Hewn City. He’s deeply prejudiced against Illyrians but he took in two beaten down bastards of that race.

Moreover, Rhysand enjoys all this—belittling Illyrians, degrading and imprisoning Hewn City, tormenting Tamlin when he’s at his lowest, and vilifying Eris. Why would someone playing a role out of necessity enjoy doing terrible things? Even after revealing his ‘true self’ in WAR, he still hasn’t changed his ways which begs the question, why does he still need that cruelty or control? There’s a difference between deploying questionable methods to achieve one’s cause versus actively undermining it. Rhysand definitely falls in the latter.

In the end, Rhysand fails as a character

The only thing Rhysand has in common with a grey character is that he pisses off a lot of people in the series, and that doesn’t make him a misunderstood hero. He is not a complex character. He lacks the internal struggles that come with making the impossible choices for his goals and also the self-reflection to right his actions or even be remorseful of them. At this point, he is just an object to carry out sexual fantasies in Feyre’s story and a general pain in the ass in Nesta’s.

On the surface, he is morally grey whom SJM, later, chose to paint white in her narrative. He is neither. Instead, he has all the bones to be a great anti-villain or a villain, but he falls short in every way to be even a decent character.

[meepwrites]

Who’d want to be called a Black ? - A Jegulily short fic, sort of..

In an alternate universe Sirius Black marries Remus Lupin. Becoming Sirius Lupin and never lets the man or anyone call him anything else ever again.

In an even alternative Universe Regulus Black pulls the same thing on one Lily Evans and James Potter once they marry him, a quiet

‘Call me that again.’

While his lovers halt their chatter and share a look and while James seems utterly confused, Lily smiles softly and practically coos at him.

‘Regulus Potter.’

‘Fully.’

Regulus says not looking at either of them and James figures it out now too, a hand on his shoulder and Regulus swears he can feel the bright beams of his smile even if he doesn’t see it - it’s in his voice.

“Regulus Arcturus Evans Potter.”

Regulus insisted on taking both of their names, though officially they are all known by the last name of Potter and things have just never felt so right in the world.

Now, lets roll this tape back to the beginning and talk about how I think both Black brothers love nothing more than to have been able to toss their old name away and take on the ones of those who have chosen to love them despite it all and who have taught them what love actually was always supposed to be.

Which is why Regulus insisted on honouring both the last name ‘Evans’ and the last name ‘Potter.’

Even if Lily had looked at him softly and told him that she would be a Potter too so there was no use to taking both, Regulus refused to budge and I don’t know how he would communicate it but I think he would also somehow get across that he knows some deep part of Lily wishes she could keep the name - not in the way that implies James is forcing his on her, because god forbid but in the way of, if only things had gone better with her family she would have - in a different world so Regulus will take it, he is willing to carry it for her because unlike she, he associates nothing but warmth and her with the last name Evans. Same way he does James and Love to the last name Potter.

But while I do think the change of names and the severing of ties means all the world to both of them - I also think that Regulus probably had a lot of harder time throwing his away than Sirius ever did.

Sirius being Sirius did it without hesitation, the moment he married there was no questions, not when he’d thrown the name ‘Lupin’ around from the moment him and Remus had began dating.

But for Regulus, it was a question, the name engraved so far into his skin he was unsure he could ever let it go and erase himself from his family tree, his blood-tie completely.

And that had certainly warranted several talks and yet still, the first time Regulus gets called “Regulus Potter” it isn’f even officially, it isn’t on a wedding day or after or whatever :

It’s on a quiet night he spends with his lovers in James’s room where Lily and James are quarreling lightly for James has been pestering him about how much he will simply love the change of last names and he should trust his guts on the matter or just simply asking him what he wants because James would love for a decision to be made, he’s always been not so patient and Lily rounded on him after a while to give Regulus the time he needs to decide and that James shouldn’t insist simply because (and they all know this is the case) he’d clearly love for both of them to flaunt his last name around, the idea has simply always made James’s heart soar higher than anything and now that Remus and Sirius are married he just wants, he wants these people he’s loved so deeply to be his.

And while Lily quarrels, James boasts that Lily doesn’t mind being ‘Lily Potter.’

And when that makes Regulus snort half of a laugh from their bed it’s like a lightbulb goes off in James’s head and he rounds back on him eyes shining and Regulus is in less than a moment trapped between the bed and the warm body of his boyfriend, his fiancé and there is a warm whisper against his ear.

“Regulus Potter, come on, you like it Reg, I know you do.”

and Regulus’s mouth falls open in response,

Pathetically, if you were to ask him.

Breath stuttering - flushed in the cheeks because he does he really really does and he thinks maybe he can throw that wretched last name of ‘Black’ away afterall - and the moment is silent like that, no one talking, no one moving until Lily jokes from her space sitting away from them on the bed - gaze on the two man unbreaking “Could you two make this look any more obscene ?”

It’s almost a challenge rather than a joke even and Regulus flusters more though he smiles and James simply sits up, straddling his lap - he can tell he’s stuck his tongue out at her and he seems triumphant even though Regulus has not verbally agreed to a single thing ‘I told you Sirius was right, he told me I better insists till his wants got through to his thick skull or he’d bury me to an early grave.’

And Regulus groans, picking up a pillow from beside him, whacking James across the head and murmuring ‘What did I say about talking about my brother while I am in bed with you.’

Lily Laughs, James shrieks, Regulus owes an unwitting thank you to his brother, apparently.

For knowing him better than he knows himself.

Later regulus does voice his agreement verbally though he doesn’t really need to, not with them and tells Lily he will take her last name too if she is willing for him to, he will completely toss away who he once was.

Now a round of bonus thoughts for this particular au :

-I think Sirius and Remus married young, laughably young but it is why he is know as Sirius Lupin way before Regulus even gets to consider the taste of his name with a different last name on his mouth.

-I get this feeling that James and Lily might have married each other before they married Regulus idk this just has me like 🥺.

-As I said both Black brothers adore having thrown the chains of their family physically away. It is liberating like nothing ever could be and if anyone ever tries to call them Black again they will both simply insists that they have no clue what that person is talking about.

If the person insists back they will both snap with the same fire in their eyes :

‘I am afraid I am Regulus Evans Potter.’

‘Sirius Lupin, Sir.’

And there is just no argument with either for anyone to get it wrong again.

THOUGH, calling the brothers by the wrong name is still better than calling them the wrong name _infront of their lovers_ if you do that, you will have hell to pay.

For Regulus and Sirius have never truly belonged to the Black family name that they chose not and never will they do so again.

[paperstorm]

You say you wish Ronen (and presumably other Israeli Americans) showed the same outrage for the attacks on Gaza as they do for the attacks on Israel.

I’m curious, do you hold White Christian Americans do the same standard? When they remember the lives lost in 9/11, do you require them to mention the 70,000 civilian lives lost in the war in Afghanistan, which was started as a result of that attack? Does it put a ‘pit in your stomach’ when they don’t, or do you simply go about your day without thinking it worth mentioning?

Because as a Jew I’ve never supported Israel, but I’m starting to wonder why Israel is held to a far higher standard than any Western nation that retaliates against terrorism. The loss of innocent lives is terrible and should be condemned, but why is it worse than the innocent lives lost in Afghanistan? Is there something in particular about Israel that you and other left-wing Westeners don’t like?

As far as I can see, Ronen’s country was the victim of a terrorist attack. He reacted with sorrow and anger and supports his country as it seeks to punish those responsible and rescue those taken hostage. But why is he deserving of condemnation for an emotional response when Americans and Westeners can mourn and be angry about their citizens killed by terrorists without attracting any of the same vitriol? The West has done terrible things in the Middle East, and yet when the Middle East strikes back against its enemies only Israel and its people are not allowed to be angry.

Maybe you don’t have any answer, but if you do and are willing to respond I would like to know. What is the difference between an Israeli ‘coloniser’ responding to being a victim of terrorism and an American ‘coloniser’ responding to being the victim of terrorism? Why does one attract criticism and hatred and the other not?

I don't speak for anyone else but my personal answer to this question is yes. Unequivocally. I haven't been talking specifically about the Iraq/Afghanistan wars this week because that's not what's happening right now, but yes. People mourning/honouring victims of the 9/11 attacks should absolutely also be mourning the (by some estimates) nearly a million innocent people who died in the Middle East in the wars started as retaliation for that attack, in some cases in places like Iraq that had literally nothing to do with it at all. If someone feels sadness in their heart every day for the 9/11 victims and feels nothing for the innocent Muslim people who paid the price for something they had nothing to do with, I feel very comfortable saying that person has fallen prey to American imperialist propaganda campaigns or is just outright racist. The hoopla that followed 9/11 is almost beat-for-beat what is happening right now, all over again. We learned nothing. Once again our leaders are dehumanizing brown people, cheering on imperialism and violent colonial occupation, and using a terrorist attack to manufacture consent for war crimes. (Anyone wanting more info on how they do this should read The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein.)

The loss of innocent Palestinians is not worse that the loss of innocent Afghans. They are the same. They are both being murdered as payback for something they didn't do and their deaths were/are both being cheered on by the Western war machine because it makes money for defense contractors and because it's politically convenient to see brown people as expendable pawns in the game of Risk world leaders are always playing. So yes, I absolutely do condemn both and mourn for both.

Additionally, I know you didn't ask for sympathy but I know how difficult this is. I know it's a lot more complicated than white online leftists like to make it seem, and I know a lot of Jewish people personally who are struggling right now, as they have before, with their complex feelings for the state of Israel. I hope you're taking care of yourself, as best you can in these awful circumstances.

[wolint]

HUMILITY

HUMILITY

Philippians 2:3-4

 

Do you know how many times you got upset because things and people don’t operate the way your “right” expects them to do?

Pride gets in the way of other people’s right for your right to be honoured.

Humility is the absence of false pride, and the modest or unassuming view of one’s importance. Humility is childlike. It has an attitude of total trust in a great God. People generally detest a proud person, and the bible talks a lot about pride being a sin and not a virtue. In addition, proverbs 3:34 tells us that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. Where God is concerned, humility as meekness, lowliness, and absence of self is what He requires from those who love Him and are ready to fellowship with Him.

Pride and arrogance would not allow so many of us to do a lot of things because we consider them beneath us, not worth our time, and either they are too mundane, therefore no accolade in them.

But our text says to not do anything out of selfish ambition or vain conceit and according to Proverbs 12:23, humility is to refrain from proving what we know, how good we are at something, or that we are always right.

Are we willing to do whatever, go wherever God tells us? Some arrogantly assume they know what the Lord wants from them, certainly not for them to stoop low to menial activities they think wouldn’t glorify God because of course it won’t glorify them.

Humility is doing whatever the Lord requires of us, humbly surrendering to His Lordship, trusting that He knows what’s best for us and will work it out in His way and time.

1 Peter 5:5 instructs us to clothe ourselves with humility towards others, not to feel too arrogant and proud to submit to those leading us, whether younger or older than us.

But we do that don’t we? 

We see young people treat older people with disdain because they either have more money, are in a higher position of authority, have more clout or are more popular. Nobody should think they are more important than others according to Romans 12:3, this means that we shouldn’t boast of our accomplishments and abilities in contrast to those around us.

God resists the proud declares James 4:6-10, this is a strong word. RESIST: if God resists us, everything good will elude us because God will stand in opposition to us. Verse 10 then says God will by His hand heighten our rank if we walk in humility.

If we look at it this way, it means humility is the key to progress. When we surrender and submit our right and will to the Lord, He honours us by setting us in places we otherwise can’t be on our accord by giving us the grace to take giant strides and to make true progress in our daily lives. Submitting willingly to the Lord and those around us in humility means placing oneself under the authority of God and others. It doesn’t make us undeserving or foot mats but people humbling in obedience to God’s will and rule in our lives.

Humility produces the fear of the Lord that rewards one with riches, honour, and life according to Proverbs 22:4. Through this, the genuinely humble do not play at being God or stand superior over others, they neither demand honour nor hold on to their right to be accorded respect because of who they are. The humble are blessed for they will inherit the earth says Matthew 5:5.

PRAYER: Father, help me to never fall into pride by thinking that I prosper and achieved on my own, but to humbly depend on you and those around me in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT PRAYER MIN.

[tartt9]

When Keeley pushes her sunglasses onto her head, Jamie knows that she's serious. He'd set his off to the side when he'd laid down in the sun - not wanting tan lines like that - but they still sit there, Richmond yellow lenses, leaving two puddles of Richmond yellow light on the wood. He keeps his eyes firmly on her face - no matter how fit she looks in that tiny pink bikini [ and, Jesus, does she look fit... ] this isn't the time for Jamie to be running his eyes over her body. He's not aiming for just one night with her. He's aiming for a future, a chance at a forever. If she gives him that chance, he'll consider himself the luckiest man in the world. He's worked so hard these past couple of years to prove to her that he's someone better than he was, that he wants to be able to deserve her again, to earn the privilege of being hers. Because it is just that, in Jamie's mind: an honour, a privilege. She's Keeley fucking Jones, the greatest woman he's ever met.

Hearing his name, in that tone, from her lips feels like an orgasm. A full-body sensation, sending shivers through him. An emotional orgasm. Jamie hadn't known that that was possible until just now. Jamie... it repeats in his head, over and over and over like he'd hit the loop button on a song on his playlist on accident in the middle of a workout, but he's barely halfway through his reps, and he can't stop now. The water ripples as she draws her legs out of it, splashing a little bit higher on his leg, but Jamie doesn't mind - he had fully planned to get in the water after tanning, anyways - what's a little bit of pool water? It won't hurt him. He nods in agreement - he knows he hurt her. He'd seen it on her face the night of the gala, and in his house the next morning, and at the photoshoot that afternoon. Reading Keeley had turned into a second language of his at that point, so he knew how badly she was hurting, even if she wouldn't say it to him [ and, honestly, he didn't deserve to be told. He knew. And she knew that he knew ].

But then she's saying she's proud of him, and he feels his heart skip a beat, and he goes a little bit lightheaded for a second. He knows it's not the far-too-hot sun [ thank god for SPF, he wouldn't let his skin burn ], and knows it's not dehydration [ he'd had a glass of water for every drink Keeley had had with lunch ] -- it's just. Keeley. And praise. And praise from Keeley. And she's grinning so big that he wants to kiss her, but this isn't a time for physicality, it's a time for words. Jamie's just starting to expand his emotional vocabulary - he needs to prove that he knows how to use that expanded vocabulary, instead of just relying on body language. "Yeah, we had some really good laughs, didn't we?" he agrees, propping his knee that isn't in the water up, though he keeps his body open to her, arms still back behind him holding him upwards, legs still spread. It's a time for words, yes, but talking with your body is always good, too. Like speaking two languages at once.

"I don't wanna reminisce, neither. And I really don't wanna miss the laughs, and the way you look so fucking gorgeous when it's dark - cause everybody gets to see you during the day but seeing you in the dark is special, and how you were always willing to see the best Jamie, even when I were the worst Jamie. I don't wanna miss going out to clubs with you, or staying in and watching some shitty reality show- or- or Sex And The City with you. I don't wanna miss the way you always have some ice cream in the freezer for emergencies. Don't wanna miss the big fluffy pillows on the couch, or braiding my hair, or tryin' to braid your hair. Don't wanna miss layin' out in the sun together. I don't wanna look back on this trip and think that was the best two weeks of m'life - cause we got second in the Premier League and then immediately came out here, don't think there could be a better two weeks back to back, honestly..." he trails off, his eyes still on Keeley's face, still reading her the way he's learned to read her through their time together.

It's silent, for just a moment, as a small smile raises itself onto Jamie's face. "I wanna make you laugh again, Keeley. I wanna let you take me to plays, and, swear down, I'll keep m'mouth shut this time, cause I know you ain't allowed to talk to the actors while they're actin'. I wanna let you paint my nails, wanna let you braid my hair, wanna sit with you while we do the touching up on my walnut mist, 'cause I like the way it looks on me, 'cause of course I do, Hannah's team fucking kills it every single time. I wanna give you a massage after a hard day of work. I wanna come visit KBPR on my lunch breaks with some stupid meal plan meal that Roy's makin' me eat, and something fucking mint for you from the best place in town. I wanna see your future, my future. Together. I wanna see how bright you shine when you win a..." he trails off, head tilting to the side slightly, puppy-like, "whatever the biggest PR awards in the world are. When you win one'a those. And... there's nobody else I'd wanna have by my side more'n you when I win the Ballon d'Or." Jamie takes a deep breath, leaning towards her. "I really think we could make something special again. And, I swear, I won't fuck it up this time. If you think I deserve the second chance... I'm gonna take it like I'm taking a penalty at the Euros. Hard, fast, with the best aim I've ever aimed -- and we know that free kicks are my specialty. Right into the top right corner. England wins it all, off the boot of 24."

she’s never travelled this far from home before  —  unless she was allowed to count her dreams,  in which case it wasn’t the farthest but brazil was definitely the hottest place on the list.     everything had gone so smoothly,  as keeley stood behind the scenes as jamie shot with the nike team and she just watched him,  both as her job demanded it and simply because she was always curious to witness him in his element.     it might not be a real match,  but even she can tell by the huge   (  incredibly fit  )   grin plastered upon his face after the director calls cut that this was definitely a part of his ever-growing forte.     it was just instinctual that her own lips curved into a small smile of their own simply at the sight,  right?

that smile doesn’t really fade even now as they relaxed by his room's pool,  soaking up the sunshine in her tiny,  pink versace bikini and large heart-shaped sunglasses to match.     it had been so easy for her to fall into pace with jamie again,  the two of them finding that old rhythm that once allowed them to open their hearts to one another without wanting to hesitate in a panic or disappear from the room.     but before she knows it,  not that she would never be dishonest,  keeley is speaking the words that have been chewing her up inside since before his match at etihad last season  —  she missed him.     no,  that’s not quite right…     she missed them.     the warmth,  not too unlike the brazil heat,  that jamie brought into her life until those bastards in his early richmond loan days started whispering in his ear.     that thought alone brings a faint frown to keeley’s lips,  though she scrunches her face up as if she were a fucking etch-a-sketch and could permanently shake the thought away.

sliding her sunglasses onto her head,  literally inviting him in to see how serious she was in those words,  she drew her lower lip between her teeth and shifted in her own seat  —  a conversation this serious deserved full attention.     (  in their typical keeley-and-jamie-type of way,  sunbathing on the private patio of his sponsored hotel room.  )     but jamie gives her no time to answer his initial response,  instead bearing his own heart on display in such a way that she can’t help but reactively suck in a breath as their gazes met with such spark.     no stranger to being able to read people,  it was rarely that keeley ever found herself surprised to this extent  —  but the way jamie looks at her,  yearningly, as if it was eating him alive?     suddenly keeley felt dizzy,  and not from the midday sun in the sky above them or the couple drinks she had from lunch.

he stills,  and she knows that means his words come in earnest.     a still jamie often meant a serious jamie.     she knows her own body has frozen,  a startled barbie-pink deer in headlights despite the fact that she had started this.     her first instinct is to throw herself at him and pull him in for a kiss  —  she doesn't, because she’s trying to be better herself at sharing her emotions,  to not isolate herself or rely on her body when times get hard.     though,  surprisingly,  this wasn’t as hard as how her mind had spun.     “  jamie…  ”     even the simple act of saying his name felt different now,  less like friends and more like balancing a fine line of finding where they stood together.     in the lack of a fluffy cushion to draw unto her lap for talks,  she draws her legs up from dangling in the water and hugs her knees to her chest.     “  yeah,  i won’t sugarcoat it,  babes  —  you really did fuck up and that hurt,  but you’re right.   you’re not the guy you were then,  and i’m really proud of you for that,  jay.  ”     she offers him a genuine smile as evidence for just how proud,  because she can’t show him how her heart swells every time she’s watched him both on and off the pitch.     “  —you made me want to be me again,  helped me have fun again.   i swear,  jamie,  i have never laughed as hard as i have with you !   and i don’t think this is some nostalgia shit,  either…   like,  i don’t wanna fucking reminisce.   i don’t want to miss it anymore.  ”

[4dtk]

pas de deux — gojo satoru

pas de deux [pa•de•de] (french, literally “step of two”), a dance duet. 

summary: striving to become a principal dancer, you’re unaware of the curious blue eyes from across the studio, only knowing of his reputation from rumours. when you have to shadow your seniors to learn a principal role and meet the infamous gojo satoru, what happens then?

word count: 11k lmfao

genre: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

a/n: gojo brainrot done. sorry this took so long lol i’m not used to writing long fics but i’m glad i did bc this is acts also as a place for me to dump my passion of ballet aha :”)

playlist here! most of them are classical pieces and a bit of ballet class music, i hope you don’t mind uwu. personally, i’d recommend watching (before or after the fic doesn’t matter hahah) the crazy talented marianela nuñez and vadim muntagirov in the pas de deux that i reference a lot in this fic. they’re my absolute favourite! (´･ᴗ･ ` )

tags: @fiona782​

it was unconventional to see a ballerino don white hair during rehearsals, let alone in a company; the familiar head of white whizzes through the studio like an angel of the night, with graceful moves and powerful jumps to match those of a faerie's seamless manoeuvers through her flowers.

that was only expected out of a principal anyway.

gojo satoru, a principal dancer of the six eyes theatre. they were part of the three prominent companies that carried the ballet world and industry. behind all the glimmer and glitz lay hours of endless rehearsals and worn-out pointe shoes, as well as smiles behind kitri's fans or even the emotional miming from giselle.

he was untouchable, a leading face that carried the ballets he starred in with immense skill and an aura admired by everyone. anyone lucky to score a pas de deux with him would be torn between a world of conflict. those soft eyes that looked down at you with love were solely meant to portray siegfried's ardour for odette and nothing else.

you sigh, eyeing the confident man giving his all in the company class, no doubt hyping himself up for tonight's last show. you couldn't fall behind, either, knowing your performance was monitored way more now that you were considered amongst the directors to be promoted to principal.

"next group, pay attention, loves!" the teacher for the morning caught your attention, letting the chattering group in front head out first before the next group of dancers took their turn. 

dancing was all you could remember, taking up most of your life even when you were a kid. through competitions and gruelling schedules, you managed to land in the six eyes theatre. sure, it wasn't as popular as the zen'in company or the kamo national ballet but, it still held up a wicked reputation, partially thanks to gojo satoru. 

your feet naturally hail your command, placing it behind the other in a curtsey to thank the instructor for the morning class as you stretch your feet in some simple pointe repertoire. 

"nervous about your posting, (y/n)?" nobara asks, rolling the arch of her feet back and forth with a tennis ball.

you shrugged, "in a way, yeah. i'm getting observed on mainly every move that i make."

the smile your best friend gives you calms you down, at least. megumi chipped in, "hey, you'll become one of the best principals around, i know it."

"yeah! and we'll go to your shows, no matter wha... oh, right, we're first soloists," itadori trails off. 

you laugh, settling down to wipe the sweat from your brow. however, there's an uncharacteristic silence when you start to remove your pointe shoes.

"what if i do become principal? i'll miss you guys like hell." you mutter, rubbing off the skin peeling from your toes. removing the tape and toepads, you sigh again even after nobara lands a hand on your arm.

"stop sighing, you idiot, the company's small. sure, you'll have extended rehearsals, and i will now have to deal with yuji's noisy ass, but i doubt we're going to be separated like oil and water." 

you roll your eyes, chuckling a little through glossy eyes, "true. it's just that we've always been together, through the competitions where we met and going up the ranks. hell, i wouldn't even imagine all of us becoming first soloists when we entered six eyes."

megumi raises an eyebrow, "are you underestimating us?" 

putting your fingers together, you offer a sheepish smile, "just a little."

"and now you're going to become a principal, (y/n). we all know you put yourself to crazy standards that you always reach, maybe even higher than that. you're going to kill it as a principal, i'm sure."

thankful to nobara for the little speech, you pat her arm gently, easing into a stretch to prevent any tensing up later in an afternoon class. 

"(y/n), they're coming over, look sharp," itadori notifies you, turning to the barre to do his own stretching as your friends busy themselves with their phones.

you take another curtsey at your instructor, along with the director of six eyes, masamichi yaga.

why... was he here now?

"(y/n), love, we'll need to talk to you about something. would you mind coming to the office later on? just before the company's afternoon class at 2 would be good."

you were at a loss for words.

was i already raised to principal? no... they wouldn't promote someone who's only danced her first soloist role a couple of times. were they going to remove me for consideration? maybe they found a better dancer to monitor?

"it's nothing terrible, (y/n), i promise." with a smile, masamichi walks away, not before patting your shoulder for reassurance.

the next few hours go by in a flash: eating lunch, lazing around in the studio, filming some tiktoks and then getting ready for another class took up most of your time that you didn't get to ponder over the office visit.

so you were definitely surprised to see gojo satoru himself, a shit-eating grin on his face once he hears you enter. he lays back on both arms to welcome the first soloist, you. 

you curtseyed again to ms ieiri and masamichi. before you got to gojo, however, he held a hand up before standing up himself to bow. you let out a small smile as the familiar step led you to curtsey on the other foot.

it left a weird feeling in your bones to greet a principal dancer, but you two weren't all that close, anyway. plus, curtseying was basic courtesy in the company, where actions spoke louder than a "good morning" or a "thank you".

"nice to see you, (y/n). miss nitta, as you know," masamichi gestured to your teacher and then to the white-haired man, whose beauty never fails to amaze you, as cliche as it sounds, "and gojo satoru." 

"nice to finally talk to you, miss (y/n)," he nods his head, wearing an attractive smile that had you sucking in a breath. you could only manage a smile at the moment, brought back to reality when masamichi's firm voice resonates in the office.

"you've done a tremendous job these past few months, love. we've been watching your roles this season, hopping from one position to the other with no problem at all. i'm sure you were informed that you were being considered to be principal..." you leaned forward in anticipation, "...although you'd have to let your skill shine through more before we promote you to principal any time soon."

bummer, but it's nothing you can't handle.

"we do have something to ask of you, however. your potential is clearly set in the right place, and your talent and determination are not lost. we want you to shadow and learn the repertoire of shoko ieiri and gojo satoru while they rehearse for the next season's premiere."

nevermind, it might actually be something you can't handle.

"me?"

masamichi only lets out a knowing smile. "are you up for the challenge, (y/n)? you'll get to learn and watch how principals rehearse, act and mime out the story in the hands of ballet masters and mistresses like kiyotaka ijichi and mei mei and even tengen hoshi." 

your fingers dug into your thigh at the well-known names, always seeing them in the corridors but never knew how they taught or conducted rehearsals. this was your chance.

"of course, director masamichi. i'd be honoured to observe and shadow the company's principal dancers, let alone miss shoko ieiri and mr gojo satoru here. their chemistry onstage is honestly unmatched!"

okay, shut up, (y/n). you're laying your fangirling thoughts on the actual director of six eyes theatre. a simple yes would've sufficed.

"great! you start tomorrow. skip the afternoon class and come straight to the studio on the ground floor. we'll be expecting you."

you couldn't help the grin that appears on your face this time, passing a bow to everyone in the room before curtseying and almost exclaiming a "thank you!"

once you're out of the professional eye, you have a little celebratory dance outside the office, immediately fishing out your phone to text the trio. 

"a...ah! gojo senpai!" you take a step back in instinct, the tall principal looming over you with nothing but an intimidating air around him.

however, nothing screams intimidating on his face, as he shoots you a polite smile and a hand to get introductions out of the way.

all you can think about is his large hand enveloping yours while he tells you his name. you're stuck in a trance, locked on his eyes cut off by the black of his sunglasses. 

how would those hands feel on my hips when he's lifting me? or maybe we'd engage in a kiss in romeo and juliet...? are we doing r&j for the next season's shows?

fuck.

"uh- yes, nice to meet you too, senpai! i-"

"call me gojo, (y/n)."

you're at a loss for words, the man knowing he's left you speechless with the way he's smirking off into the other direction. you manage to get the prodigy out of your head, willing yourself to get to the company class as soon as possible. since your distraction was gone and the air cleared of any tension, you were able to hear the voices in the office.

"are you sure about this, nitta? we can't have any more dancers off their game just because they were enamoured with satoru to the point of confessing their love to him. every time we get first soloists and principals to pair with him, something always comes up."

"i'm sure, director. (y/n)'s mettle and focus on her roles are strong, and her skills are off the charts. if anything happens, we'll just pair her with another principal, like kento or something." masamichi sounded unconvinced, grunting as their footsteps increased in volume.

company class! company class!

you slipped into the studio just in time to avoid nitta and masamichi, carrying your things as you looked for the trio.

"(y/n)!" yuji catches your attention, although a little too loudly for your liking. you were left to greet the other dancers on the way to their corner, dumping your bag with much more exasperation than you expected.

"what's wrong?" megumi asks, doing some plies at the bar to warm up his feet and muscles.

"i think i should text y'all instead. let's wait for after the show tonight."

you get three nods from the trio in reply, dropping into some simple stretches as the next instructor takes over. at least gojo wasn't here...

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

the applause was deafening as you take your bow, thanking the audiences from the balcony and stalls as you gestured to your pas de deux partner, megumi. putting your hand in front of your heart was a big thing to do, giving thanks to one of your best friends and partners for a fun pair such as bluebird and princess florine. 

as you walked back to join the other dancers, the principal roles were taking their bows with no doubt roars and cheers from the audience from yet another electrifying performance from the golden pair as princess aurora and prince florimund: gojo and ieiri. 

as ieiri led the conductor on stage, he was the last to thank the audience, bringing the heart of the ballet to life with the score of tchaikovsky's sleeping beauty. 

with one last bow, the curtain closes, leaving you to let loose from the rigid position you were used to. 

"we're done!" you laugh, hugging megumi as nobara and itadori squeeze their way through the many dancers on stage. the two convey their compliments, prompting you to nudge the two on their puss-in-boots and white cat roles. the two then freeze up, staring at something that was approaching from behind.

"miss (y/n)-" gojo bows, interrupted by ieiri as she crashes into you with a hug.

"oh man, (y/n) you were great out there!" you grin, embracing her as tight as she did. 

"thank you, senpai," you were practically beaming, thankful she still remembered you after being promoted to principal years ago. it was hard to communicate and talk when she had so much going on, a natural dancer who rose up the ranks fast with her hard work. 

ieiri formed herself up into a refined dancer that you wouldn't think she was the young girl at your studio trying on pointe shoes for the first time years ago when you were a kid.

that was if you didn't know her personally, of course. 

"here, first position, just like that!" the curious girl interacted with the kids outside a smaller studio, teaching them the various positions that at least a grade two or three class would use.

she picked up pointe work fast, obviously guided by the mentors at the school with nights of rehearsal and decision making whether she wanted to pursue this professionally.

"oh shush, you, you don't have to call me senpai, see you tomorrow (y/n)!"

ieiri bids you goodbye, no doubt to talk to the choreographers and director. gojo follow suit shortly after your exchange, not before taking your hand to plant a kiss on it.

you retract almost immediately after his lips descend on your skin, the area hot from the lighting, your sweat and your feelings.

nobara tsked, "what's his deal?" you let out a shaky sigh and shrug, hooking an arm around megumi's as you went around to mingle with the dancers.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

[nobara is typing...]

you're to shadow gojo-senpai and shoko-senpai?! no way???!?!1/!?!?

[itadori is typing...]

no way, that's so cool! 

what was he like? was he in the office that day?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yeah, he was. not gonna lie, a bit cocky... kinda overheard that partners throw themselves at him sometimes too, which makes it a bit troublesome, lol.

and yes, kugisaki i'll need to observe them starting tomorrow. i cant come for the company class :(

[megumi is typing...]

Then what about Shoko-senpai?

you shake your head even though no one could see you, the forgotten tv series playing in the background while you text your friends instead.

[(y/n) is typing...]

she's too good for him, i think. they're long time friends too, but i'm not sure if any feelings blossomed since then tho

[nobara is typing...]

you don't like him, do you? i know you dont like guys that are full of themselves, altho that man rlly is that attractive .......

[itadori is typing...]

LMAOO whos the smitten one now

nobara sends a vibe check sticker, the one with both hands outstretched with a threatening stare into the screen. 

[nobara is typing...]

i'll kill you tomorrow, yuji itadori.

[itadori is typing...]

you'd have to reach my height first, loser

[nobara is typing...]

you- UFGGHKHH

i'll kick your shins, thats what!!!!!! 

you roll your eyes as the two of them get into another friendly banter, leaving the group chat to blow up in messages as you switch off the neglected tv. 

there's a silence that feels almost too foreign, contrasting to the fact that you enjoyed silences daily. it felt criminal, almost, to be in such a quiet space with no one to fill in the gaps.

you look to your black and white poster for some clarity, the young boy standing at 16 with a softness in his eyes and a lengthened extension that conveyed his love of ballet to you.

you never knew who was the boy, getting a poster shoved into your hands in a hurry when you and your mom bought tickets to the local ballet competition. you never questioned the poster, nor had you caught the boy in the midst of his variation either, settling for a theory that his performance had already passed the day before.

"how do you think it's going to go down tomorrow?" you mumble to no one in particular, tossing and turning in your sheets that didn't quell your worries no matter how much you thrashed.

the dreamless slumber welcomes you into its arms almost immediately, although the morning after was the opposite.

"shit, shit, shit," was your mantra, jumping from place to place in your small apartment to get the things you needed for class. you manage to catch the bus in time, heading straight to the studio with no cup of tea in your hand as usual. 

"(y/n)!" nobara grins, seeing you stumble through the door just as everyone finishes their individual warmups. the instructor greets everyone, eager to get into the class as soon as possible.

the thought of the rehearsal shook you up more than you thought it would, leaving you to let out nervous breaths that got worse by the time that class ended. 

ieiri didn't miss the way you'd wipe your hands on your tights in worry, going over the steps more than you usually would. you had a killer memory, but it seemed that today that that ability had melted away at the sight of gojo.

"wish me luck, guys," you muttered, hurriedly packing up your things before heading off yourself. the trio only could give you a small smile, knowing you had wanted time to yourself to calm your nerves.

you had always done this for the many shows you starred in: the music and positions mimicking a recording. it was as clear as day when it replayed in your head, the different orchestral parts and the dynamic changes you apply to your steps to give the best performance, for performing your best was all that mattered. the trio understood instantly, always sending you off on your memory replay with an encouraging smile.

well, almost, for you didn't even know what the rehearsal entailed or what piece they would be dancing to.

"hi," your voice appeared meek in the big studio, the only three people there slowly getting warmed up to each other. your feet carried you into a curtsey.

"ah, mei mei-sensei! miss shoko and mr gojo," you acknowledged their presence, placing your things down right where you stood.

"let's begin then, shall we? for this is a gala event, the pas de deux couple will only be performing the entree and the adagio parts. there might be the possibility you two would have to rehearse your individual variations and the coda. still, the organisers haven't gotten back to us on the duration we'll be on stage for. with the switching in and out of the different repertoire, this year should align with don quixote. before we start, i wish that everyone is honest with each other; that way, we can learn from different views."

don quixote?! you hold in your excitement at the revelation, thinking back to the fiery portrayals of kitri and lively spanish music to pair with it. your excitement was on cloud nine while by fifteen minutes, your feet and body were seemingly screaming at you to take a break.

to say it was tiring was an understatement, at the very least. you were to only shadow ieiri's parts, and the absence of a male partner proved challenging when you were the first soloist mirroring a principal and her partner.

"(y/n) should try too, of course! come, come," mei mei beckons you over from where you went over the steps, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of the sheer skirt you'd just bought a few days ago.

"i trust that you are familiar with the wedding PDD, (y/n)?" mei mei asks.

you nod eagerly, not missing the way ieiri beams at your enthusiasm. 

"good. we'll just try this part on your own. remember to keep yourself lifted and trust your partner," mei mei eyes you while gojo was already getting comfortable with a hand on your back, "would you like to try it without the music first?"

you nod cautiously. you take note of the way it burns like fire, the contact of his skin on yours. oh god, you wished you had wiped the sweat from it, although the other didn't seem to mind it due to the many partners he's worked with before.

with a quick glance, you snuck a look at the tall dancer, never much prepared for the striking blue of his eyes. however, this time, the cheeky gojo appeared to be kept under wraps, bringing forth a more solemn and nervous exterior. he did seem different and quiet, even catching the attention of mei mei-sensei and ieiri herself. they opted not to say anything.

nevertheless, the two of you narrate the lifts and steps, mixing in the counts with the french vocabulary that stuck with you throughout the years. you were surprised at how much leeway gojo had provided you, allowing you to move freely while bringing you back effortlessly for the couple work.

a smile formed on your face at the flow of your steps as the music plays seamlessly in your mind with how much you've watched different renditions of the wedding pas de deux.

"with the music now, my dears."

ieiri shoots you a thumbs-up, noticeably more tired than you, as she massages the bottom of her feet with calculated force.

the piano starts as the pas de deux passes by smoothly with minimal mishaps, save for some off balances here and there. as always, your hand tingles when it comes in contact with the principal's, willing the quick heartbeats away by thinking of his cocky smirk the other day. with the easy beginning completed, the lifts were now appearing more often.

"hold your body up during the fish dive (y/n), hold your back and position!" gojo stumbles a bit at your mistake, but for the second time around, you manage to get it, coming up from the tricky step into a beautiful arabesque. 

a hasty nod, and you're off, pulling away from gojo a tad bit quicker than how you wanted to initiate it. he's taken by surprise at your change of personality, wondering where the flustered soloist had gone to previously. with the same corrections directed at you, mei mei gives you a "good job" before bringing ieiri back in.

"we'll cap you two's pas de deux at that point before the turns. ieiri, you ready to get back into it?" she hesitantly nods, albeit more relaxed than the earlier exchange.

the music starts again, and this time, you manage to gape at the couple's artistry, weaving over and under to fit the delicate notes of minkus' score. with the many turns and tour en l'airs, it now came to the difficult part of the pas de deux: where the woman will wind their hand around the man's single finger, engaging in two turns connected only by that single contact point.

they complete it easily, leaving ieiri to then balance en pointe with one leg suspended in the air. the two repeat it again with no problem, except for the fatigue seeping through their faces at a few moments in time.

as the music reaches its climax, so does the movements with increasing pirouettes and lifts. their chests heave with exhaustion, but their smiles showed that they were satisfied with the run.

it was hard to believe that gojo and ieiri only started to rehearsed this a few weeks ago, especially since these were leading roles with a reasonably complex pas de deux to pair with. nothing seemed to faze them as they received the feedback from mei mei, nor did they have trouble correcting the lift that had gone wrong earlier or the balance that ieiri fell out of.

so this was what it meant to be a principal.

"(y/n)! any feedback that you'd like to give to the two?"

"h..huh, me? i'm not sure if it'd be helpful to-"

"nonsense, hit us, (y/n). rehearsals are always a place for feedback," ieiri grins, taking your hand to bring you closer to the three of them.

"well, i think... i'll comment on the repeated melody where you'll go from the turns into the attitude balance is where it's a bit difficult. since gojo-senpai is tall, he might've put his hand a little too high. i mean, of course, lifting up is ideal, but ieiri-senpai might have some trouble balancing because of that."

they wordlessly try it out without the music, noting how gojo places his hand at a lower height for ieiri. it might've felt foreign, but it looked a tad bit better to you, with a better centre of gravity and stability. 

"yeah! like that!" a smile dons your face, "does it feel better, senpai?"

"tons," gojo simply states, almost too eagerly as blue eyes uncharacteristically boring into yours. opposed to the quick glances he always gave you along the corridor or within classes, this one was a strange, longing one. ieiri's voice snaps you out of the spell, almost not wanting to leave his stare.

"way better, thank you (y/n)," she pats your arm before turning to the sound of mei mei's voice.

"alright, beautiful legs and extensions, but we still have a lot to work on, as well as getting (y/n) accustomed to more pas de deux and principal work. would you like to stay on (y/n)?"

you admired your own determination, but sometimes it was better to take a break. having just attempted the coda, you could already feel blisters forming due to your prolonged use of pointe shoes. with a breath, you let gojo complete his pirouettes, restraining the sigh coming from your lips at the perfect revolutions and momentum he had going.

a little more, and you were close to catching a breath, finishing off a quadruple pirouette and tour en l'air with gojo's help. with a slight stumble, you let out a startled laugh before taking your last step with a knee to the floor. with palm outstretched, the piano does a trill before ending off on a chord.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot gojo smiling down at you, a beam that doesn't come often with how much confidence he carries around the company. 

ieiri applauds first, followed by mei mei's impressed smile.

"you execute your fouettes well, (y/n)," you bow your head in thanks, brought up unconsciously with gojo's hand as it stays linked in yours. 

"thank you, mei mei-sensei. i'm just glad to have tried it out; the don Q coda is one of my favourites," you gush, "the costumes, the music is just everything."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"to dance with your partner is one thing, but the connection is another. translate the story of the elation of kitri - her father finally gives his blessing for their wedding, and she's excited to the moon. basilio is marrying the girl of his dreams. know what and who you're dancing for." mei mei speaks over the music easily, giving pointers they go over the steps like always.

"i know it's just an empty stage. there's no set, no scene to show the joy all around the cast, but you still are dancing as kitri and basilio," mei mei says after, "let's try again with (y/n)."

rehearsals carried on like this, day after day. some days longer than the other, and on others, you were paired with another first soloist. however, he wasn't tasked with shadowing the couple every day, so the pas de deux was left to you to master. 

as you wipe your sweat, ieiri waves her towel in front of you, "wanna have lunch with us?"

"i don't want to intrude-" 

"it's gojo's treat," ieiri whispers, "plus he doesn't treat people often."

"is he okay with me coming alo-" she pulls on you, leaving you no choice but to pack your things hurriedly.

"(y/n)'s coming, yea?" ieiri mumbles quickly, hooking her arm around yours in a hassle as you try to keep your things from falling out of your bag.

"i'd like that." gojo says to no one, finally catching up to you two after switching off the studio lights.

"whaaaat, you're leaving so fast?" you pout, eyeing ieiri's neat tray of finished food as gojo lets her pass through in the booth.

"i'm sorry you have to stay here with this dumbass (y/n), but i have a date with the orthopaedic today," ieiri groans.

"like an actual date?" gojo jokes.

"no," she rolls her eyes, "my muscles are acting up a little lately. plus, my arch hurts more often than it usually does. it's best to just check it out, i guess. but yeah, an actual date would be nice, too."

you shrug, "eh, hard to come by when you're a busy ballet dancer in a company. bye, senpai!" you and gojo wave to her as she leaves the diner, now coming to terms with the fact that you were alone with the charming dancer, as much as you hated to admit it.

with his perfect hair and long eyelashes and the enchanting smirk he always seems to wear. not to mention the sheer strength in his leaps in contrast to the delicate grip on your waist-

"thinking about me, love? of course you are."

"what? no!" you stiffen, the blush on your cheeks immediately giving away your thoughts.

"for the record, i've thought of you, too," gojo drops a bomb, leaning over the table to plant a gentle kiss upon your cheek before leaving the booth in a hurry. 

you were thankful that he was gone, at least and thankful for the empty diner, leaving you to melt in a puddle of confusion and warmth. 

just like the first rehearsal, your cheeks feel hot, as does your body. the place where his lips touched seemed to burn a hole through, your gaping mouth failing to close even after a minute of staring into nothing.

fishing out your phone was the first thing your mind sought out from the endless thoughts in your head.

nobara, nobara, nobara... gotta find her contact..!

[nobara is typing...]

he WHAT???!??@

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"ieiri-senpai, what's a pas de deux to you?" you mumble after rehearsals one day, picking at the tape stuck in between your toes.

"it would have to be what mei mei said, definitely. she still says the same exact thing till today: dance and connection are two different things. and it can't go to the point where two different stories are being told by the male and female dancer. you'll need to go into pas de deux work with a mindset that you come in a pair. every correction and every emotion needs to be felt by both parties for it to reach the audiences."  

"what about you?" the question catches you by surprise, resorting to humming as you think of the answer.

"it's something along the lines of your answer and mei mei-sensei's definition. you'd have to be on the same wavelength as your partner. every extension that appears or a gentle port de bras is meant to show the character's personality. you'd also have to think of the context of the ballet, i guess," you stop yourself, looking at gojo as he finishes a tour en l'air en passe. three revolutions and you realise that a. you're staring and b. you were talking way too much.

"sorry! i'm rambling again," you splutter, going back to your original task of taking out the tape from your toes.

ieiri giggles, "no, no! ramble all you want. i love listening to my juniors talk about how much they love ballet."

"sleeping beauty, just like the show a week ago, is set in the royal court, so it's hard to show aurora's personality. she's a little playful and young, although it's hard to slip that in when the wedding pas de deux for that is so grand. and then you'll compare it to the black swan in swan lake, where it's also in a royal court, but odile's the one deceiving siegfried, so there's an opportunity to include some side-eyeing in it. i personally love zenaida's version," you trailed off, "i mean, of course, there's also-"

"then what about odette?" gojo shouts across the studio, with his hands on his hips. the white of his hair matched the pureness of odette's tutu, something you always wished to wear and dance and master when you got accepted into six eyes theatre.

"don't mind him-"

your words take precedence without effort, "with the white swan, odette has to show the struggle of her spell with the frantic miming that she has to do. 'i'm the queen of the swans, rothbart the bastard turned me into a swan' and so on and so forth. because she's a swan, she has to imitate the gentle way that swans move, along with the technical challenges of the pas de deux. she's very soft and fragile, and the violin makes it all the better in showing the shyness and fear in odette."

two pairs of eyes stare at you curiously as the male's smirk leaves you to break into a nervous laugh as you fidget with your fingers. 

"sorry, i'm talking a lot. too much. do carry on with your jumps," a small apologetic smile appears on your face, failing to note gojo's hesitation to move from his spot and his interest in the way you can talk endlessly about the art.

gojo's smirk merges into a smile even when he accomplishes the many pirouettes demanded of him. he'd want to hear it from your lips next time when you're wrapped up in each other.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"don't you think he's a little bit too confident for his own good?" nobara whispers to you. with rehearsals off for a few days, you were able to see your best friends again, munching up the calories lost from the afternoon class. 

"yeah... for all we know, he might be stumbling around in rehearsals and picking up girls," megumi muttered.

you rolled your eyes, "he's... not like that, guys. he is confident in class and seems a bit cocky, but that's because he really does live up to his name."

"we might not know much, either. (y/n) has been in rehearsals with the guy. he's probably more focused when there are lesser people in the room," yuji chats through his food, gaining disgusted looks from the three of you when lettuce and chicken litter the table.

"well... don't go falling for the guy, yeah? i've beaten up too many exes in the past," megumi tsked, devouring the salad bowl in front of him.

"yeah, but i didn't ask you to, plus you'd do it anyway. didn't even have to ask," you grin, leaning back in your chair triumphantly.

"if i beat up gojo-senpai, i'll probably get jailed."

you and yuji stifle a laugh at his comment, but nobara doesn't seem impressed with the joke, instead focused more on you and your reactions. 

you weren't actually developing feelings... right?

the memory and kiss linger in your mind like a stubborn stain, not forgetting the intense stare nobara had given you before you said goodbye to the three. a vibration from your phone snaps you out of the daze, opening your chat group to answer your friends. 

[nobara is typing...]

how was rehearsal today?!???! we jsut finished class

also it's been so long since we saw u :(

[(y/n) is typing...]

so good as always is that even a question luv xx

theyre both so talented as individuals as they r in a pdd... it was rlly insightful too!

gojo-senpai kept staring at me today for some reason tho. he felt different today, a little more reserved and whatnot

[megumi is typing...]

Maybe he felt intimidated by your skill lol

"i'll take my leave first, (y/n)! i've got an errand to run. mei mei's accompanying me," ieiri grins, bringing you into a sweat-filled hug. she's used to soaked leotards, even if the grimace on your end doesn't go unnoticed by the principal.

she lets out a chuckle, "you'll get used to mixed sweat and whatnot, (y/n). see ya!"

curtseying comes easy, bidding goodbye to the principal and the ballet mistress.

you were ready to go back to the conversation on your phone, although a call of your name distracted you from the conversation.

"yes...? gojo?" you mumbled, the last name feeling foreign on your lips without the honorific at the back. you put your phone away as the studio immediately diminishes in size, seemingly putting the two of you in a tight space with nowhere to go. it certainly felt like it, with the wordless prompt of his hand.

"try the pas de deux with me," gojo proposes, pulling up a piano rendition of the score on spotify. it wasn't hard to spot the mischievous sparkle in his eye, along with the attractive grin plastered on his face.

the studio appeared calmer now that ieiri and mei mei had left, yet the conflict in your mind was loud and unwelcomed. it felt like a battle between the angel and the devil, and you were sure the devil was nobara herself, screeching at you to remind you of the shit-ton amount of conceitedness he had.

"are we allowed to? don't other people need to use the studio?" you mumble, standing up with the help of gojo nevertheless.

you're playing right into his hand, yet you took it anyway.

he waves a hand, "it's fine; you do know the pas de deux, don't you? we didn't go over it together much, but i'm sure the past rehearsals served you well."

the beginning was refined, having done it earlier with mei mei's help. it was mostly the only thing the two of you went over when mei mei was around, leaving the more complicated parts to ieiri. the fish dive comes naturally this time, imagining the glowing lights and the striking wedding tutu that kitri sports in the third act. 

there are howls of laughter at the many mishaps after that. knowing you hadn't rehearsed any of it with your partner, nor with the music before, it was only fair that accidents were to happen.

"no, no, if you let me go, i will kill you- ah! gojo!" you threaten, but it's lost in your mouth as he spins you way too many times, letting a loud shriek escape your mouth.

from a failed pirouette to a fish dive where he almost dropped you (he didn't), the laughter spilling from yours and his lips weren't common in a company class with everyone trying to dance their best.

"hey, hey, lay off the hair!" gojo quips, catching your off-balanced pirouette with a secure hand on the waist. you went along with the music, anyway, giving your exaggerated interpretation of kitri just as the music builds up. that earns a laugh from him, skillfully guiding you through even with the light banter in the room

"here it comes," he mutters to you, feeling the support of gojo's hands on yours as he pushes you off the complete the double attitude turn before hearing a loud ‘thwap!’.

"fuck, sorry! oh my god," you apologise, retracting your leg almost immediately after the collision.

"ah, shit," gojo exclaims, rubbing the side of his thigh as he brings you down gently. there's a frown on his face as you take a peek at the place you hit, the only thoughts running through your head being the articles or scandals you might be caught in.

(y/n) attempting to harm six eyes theatre's golden principal dancer? (y/n)'s downfall full of jealousy? (y/n) and the infamous gojo caught in a fight?

a giggle gets you out of the trenches, hands revealed like a finished magician's act. 

"i was kidding; that didn't hurt one bit," gojo jokes, hands naturally reaching forward to place them on your hips, "loosen up a bit, (y/n)."

"i am loose!" your mouth falls into a straight line, "shit that sounded bad, didn't it?" bursting into laughter, your head falls onto his shoulder as your hand reaches up to grasp at his forearm before recovering from the unexpected joke.

as the pas de deux fades off into nothing, only your breaths could be heard in the large studio, blending with the cold air of the air-conditioning and the hot breaths coming from your mouths. strings play softly from the phone, but all you can hear is the echo of the familiar melody as if it was being played in an auditorium. 

gojo gives you a gentle smile that you reciprocate, stuck in that annoying hypnotisation of his blue eyes and the same soft look he gives you whenever you aren't looking. 

you were looking now, though, and you'd like it even better if time stood still for you to savour this moment.

"would you like to go on a date with me (y/n)?"

there it was, the million-dollar question. it wasn't like you imagined this every night before you slept or whether he'd perform a flashy proposal to ask you out.

but even then, you thought back to the smirks he directed at every other dancer, you thought back to the conversation in masamichi's office, you thought back to nobara's advice.

"surely you're not thinking of getting wooed by gojo satoru, are you? it's dangerous, (y/n), i'm sure you know that."

"fuck, i know! but then he kisses my cheek that one time and everything feels right again. he jokes with me in rehearsals and nudges me when mei mei-sensei compliments me. he treats me to lunch and looks at me with so much passion i almost want to believe it. these past weeks of rehearsals have taught me well in dance, but i'm sure it's making my love life miserable with how much he looks at me and then goes back to flirting with the other dancers."

"i'm sorry, i can't, gojo."

you make haste with the way you're scurrying out of the studio, breaking into a jog to make sure he doesn't catch after you.

you should've said yes, right? with how much he's been building up the courage these past few weeks, careful not to let ieiri spot his sneaky glances. even the kiss on your cheek left his heart pumping long after he's left the diner. 

all that to leave him in the dust.

gojo lays in bed that day, eyes fully open as he struggles to get some rest, unaware of the similar turmoil you were going through. the dancer managed to sleep after innumerable amounts of overthinking, departing from consciousness with thoughts of you, just like he always has.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

there weren't any tears involved on your end, save for some of the glossy looks you've given your black and white poster as you played with your pillowcase in anxiety. 

you dreaded the next rehearsal, knowing you had to face gojo sooner or later, especially with how you reacted to his question.

"mei mei-sensei, gojo," his name was muttered instead, embarrassed with the way you rushed out of the studio the previous day. mei mei looks between the two of you, clapping her hands together to get your attention.

"ieiri pulled a nerve around her arch, which was why we've been going to the orthopaedic more often. it's a minor injury, and she's resting right now, so we'll have to work with the two of you first. we'll stop at where we always do but feel free to continue if you feel comfortable."

great. it had to be on a day where i couldn't possibly face gojo.

he says nothing at that, both you and the pianist unsure of whether you were to continue.

gojo was still in his a game, hitting every leap and lifting you without much struggle. you, not so much, as the words you said to him replayed in your head like a broken record.

you fell off your balances, you couldn't portray kitri well, you felt the weight of your body get heavier with each repeated thought of the day before. hell, even your practice tutu felt heavy. 

he sighs again for the umpteenth time as the music stops, the two of you receiving the same criticism from the previous run. mei mei tries her best to be polite, although you can tell she's losing her patience as well.

"(y/n)? what's gotten into you? i understand every dancer has their bad days, but today appears terrible with the silent treatment you two are giving each other."

you swallow at the question, taking a shaky breath before opening your mouth. you look to gojo for help, but his eyes evade yours by looking at the floor with arms crossed. his head whips toward you with your following words.

"he asked me... on a date. i rejected him, rushed out the studio," you mutter, tracing the fabric of the tutu hanging on your hips.

"you asked her out on a date?" mei mei states in disbelief, looking at the ballerino with a face full of perplexity. 

"yeah, i did, and i would do it again," the last whisper is lost to you, unable to hear because of the distance between you and him.

"wh- why? what's wrong with that?" you ask mei mei-sensei, yet again being pulled in by the sky blue of his eyes before looking to the ballet mistress.

"mei mei-"

"gojo never asks anyone out. ever. i'm sure you're the first one."

you can see gojo deflate at that at the corner of your eye, shoulders sagging forward in defeat while mei mei takes the chance to leave for you to sort things out. 

"what...?" was the only thing you could muster, eyes following your instructor as she exits the space.

"you two are dismissed for now. talk to him about it and resolve your problem," she waves a hand at you, the tension growing by the second as she's entirely out of the studio.

"gojo?" you ask cautiously, stepping up to him to pull him from the position he was in.

"you believe the rumours, the articles, don't you?" he says, completely unrelated to the situation at hand. the look he gives you was something you couldn't figure out, snatching his arm out of your grip as he puts some distance between the two of you. 

"you think i'm some cocky bitch who's just strutting around the company, free to do my own thing?" the other says it in a quiet tone, but it didn't make it less menacing than if he were to shout it. 

"do you think i enjoy the way the female dancers throw themselves at me when i'm trying to focus on my mistakes and corrections? you think i enjoy the annoying ass articles written about me?"

with each question, gojo doesn't fail to intimidate you, taking a step each time until you're cornered against the barre. those questions are left unanswered as gojo's eyes bore into yours, losing its usual spark when he glances at you during the pas de deux or when he's laughing at a joke you made over lunch.

"do you think i enjoy being talked about every. single. time?! when i'm passing in the corridors, in masamichi's office, in the company classes, among the little trio you have going on. when i asked you out, it was because i genuinely felt that i could connect to you: with no wrong assumptions or bad impressions," gojo runs a hand through his sweaty hair, the frustrated emotions he felt seeping through into his speech.

"...everything felt so fake to me while getting to know you were the only real thing i could cherish when i get to hold you during the pas de deux, or when my lips landed on your cheek. it was the only real thing that brought on your blush that i imagine your lips on mine way too much."

you chose to ignore the way your heart flutters at the confession, staring up at him with apparent conflict on your face.

"then why can't you just ignore them? i'd expect someone like you to not give a shit about what people think," you whisper.

"you got to know the wrong gojo, then. just like right now, i can't face what others have to murmur around about me."

"right now...?" you caught onto his words fast, your eyes immediately spotting the curious faces of both your friends and a few other dancers fighting for a spot to watch you two through the studio door's glass.

"c'mon, pack up, let's not talk here," gojo states. within seconds, the two of you were out the door with your hand clasped in his. you were quick on your feet to leave the premises, naturally following gojo's lead to an unknown building. 

letting go of his hand, you explore the space, taking note of every tiny little thing that made the apartment his own.

"sorry for the mess. i live alone and hardly clean the apartment." the nervousness from the studio stayed, the other opting to remain at the doorway in worry. the silence in the apartment grows, your eyes now trained to the floor as gojo suddenly speaks up.

"i couldn't ignore them, (y/n). their expectations disguised as gossip and rumours allowed me to perform properly. i was afraid of disappointment, of getting ridiculed if i were to make mistakes on stage. any slip-up was seen by the company's sponsors, critics, everyone. their eyes were always on me, and i could never let myself get eaten up by the articles." 

"the industry is filled with competition and talent. anyone can replace anyone at any given time; you'd have to have a mind of steel to not get affected by every little thing!"

his eyes meet the back of your head, the fatigue leaking through the lines of his eyes and face. as you turn around, you meet his exhausted ones, and, step by step, you approach the man.

"i can't say i have that mind of steel that i mentioned. i hardly come close to it, (y/n). i'm happy with the company, i'm content with my place, and i'm terribly in love with ballet, but... i'm so tired, really."

your expression of unsaid pity was all you could offer, bringing gojo into a hug as he wrapped his arms around you. the way he relaxed told you of the safe space you provided, while his tight, squeezing arms showed he hasn't embraced in a long time.

a minute or two passes, relishing in the now comfortable silence as the other collects himself. 

"i'm laying everything on you, fuck, i'm sorry."

you shake your head into his chest, "don't apologise, you idiot. i should be the one saying sorry for rushing off like that," pulling away, you were heartbroken to see the shine of his tears waiting to cascade down his cheeks.

"i'm sorry i ran off. i was afraid, for a different reason. my rational side always protects my heart, knowing i've had bad experiences with friends and connections. if i couldn't sustain a friendship, who was i to jump into a relationship?" you hand trails to his nape to mindlessly play with the hair there as a form of habit with your own hair.

"it was brave of you, putting yourself out so vulnerably when i only looked at the surface of what you were. i'm sure it felt like those weeks of getting to know each other meant something to you, and i threw it away in fear that you'd leave me after a few months."

"so please don't apologise, i'm sorry i ever made you feel like shit because i didn't know about the weight on your shoulders."

a smile graces your face, the hand on his nape going back to his cheek.

"and stop crying; it doesn't make your eyes look good," you whisper, wiping the tears before they fall as gojo lets out a chuckle.

"you think my eyes look good?" 

you roll your eyes, "god, who wouldn't? it's like looking at the sky and the ocean all at the same time. and when you stare at me? i always have trouble looking away from you because of how striking they are."

"are they now?" distracted from the emotional vomit earlier, he grins at your description of him. you're lucky to have your hands on his cheeks just so you can feel the effect you have on him every time you offer a compliment.

"are you done complimenting me?"

"i've only commented on your eyes, though. would you like me to continue?"

"i think you should kiss me first."

you're taken aback by gojo's boldness, a surprised expression appearing at the question. the way he looks at you beats the gazes through the mirror as he warms up and the look of interest over his bowl of miso soup. it beats the glances at you during the company classes and the short, fleeting glimpses as you move together during the pas de deux. it beats every single one that your head descends back into his chest, shy at the look of adoration he was giving you.

"can i really?" you whisper in his shirt, refusing to look up even when he pulls away from your embarrassment.

as his arms unwind themselves from your middle, he crouches down to reach your eye and bring you back from a world of uneasy firsts.

"is it your first?"

this was when gojo satoru was at his rawest, with his hands cupped around your cheeks in the slowly darkening apartment as he prepares himself to kiss you.

"it is."

gojo says nothing after that, the moment of silence feeling like forever before his lips meet yours. the sunset coming in from his windows hits at the right time, because then you'd be able to point at it and describe the colours you feel when his mouth moves against yours. you'd be able to sense your heart pumping and blood flowing more clearly than when you've just finished a demanding combination of steps when he encircles his arms around you to bring you closer.

without choreographed steps, nothing feels more fitting than a kiss full of passion that isn't in a pas de deux. ironically, it was the ones you enjoyed more, more than the kisses in romeo & juliet or in manon.

oxygen becomes scarce, then, prompting you to break away from gojo just as your heart fills up with joy, way more than you can fathom.

you crash your lips into his again, now catching him off-guard. he melts into it with no problem, a laugh spilling from his lips at your eagerness.

"i like you a lot, tons, (y/n). i don't say this often, but i like you."

"it's too early to say it's love, right? because i think i like you too, a lot, tons."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

you agreed to keep it under wraps for now, with you planning to leave half n' hour later to avoid suspicion. the dancer sacrificed his Z's so you could catch them instead, although you continued to lay awake in his bed watching the white-haired man get ready. 

"are you sure the floor wasn't uncomfortable? you could've just used your own bed, y'know."

he only shakes his head, "'s okay. my back was acting up, anyway. it was basically free therapy."

you laugh at that, now sitting up fully to admire gojo's physique. with how affectionate and sweet he is behind closed doors, you swore that he was a different man. he shoots you a finger gun and a wink, knowing the way he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"see you later," gojo whispers, landing a peck on you before taking off on his own. it wasn't long before you had to get up, taking in the room and its decorative spaces. he has ballet posters and photos of his friends; he even had a diffuser.

a yawn takes over you as your hands land on the shirt on you.

fuck, you didn't have anything clean to wear. gojo had provided you with a shirt and pants from his wardrobe yesterday, rejecting his briefs with a laugh. with no bra, you decided to just use a spare leotard you keep in your bag, settling for the clothes gojo had lent you the day before.

the theatre felt different when you entered, heading straight for the studio to avoid any more prying eyes from the younger dancers. 

"hey," you say, rubbing at your eyes to the trio warming up their feet.

nobara gasps, grasping at your hand immediately to pull you down onto the floor.

"are you good?" she mumbles, staring at your face for any signs of hurt or crying.

"do i need to beat him up?" megumi challenges, flexing his bicep as a joke, "i've been working out more."

"i'll go tell him off for you, (y/n)!" yuji grins, preparing to quite literally stand up to head over to the other corner of the room.

"no! i mean, yes, i'm good. please don't beat him up, and... sit down, yuji." you sigh. 

"nothing... happened, guys. i know what it looked like in the studio yesterday but there wasn't any catfights or physical fights," you pause, looking at megumi, your hands instinctively going to the pouch where you kept your shoes, "we figured out our problem and solved it, that's all."

"so why are you wearing his shirt, then?" nobara shoots without hesitation, causing you to halt your movements for a bit. beside you, you can hear yuji choking on his water. 

"i... we.. uhm," you trail off, trying to find the right words to fill in the gaps of your explanation. your eyes flit around the room before landing on gojo's, finding that his were already fixed on you.

"uh... yeah... we cleared up our differences and talked a bit," you mutter, lips breaking into a smile before you break eye contact with him. the trio stay dumbfounded at your word vomit, witnessing the exchange with the principal dancer with puzzlement. 

"oh my god, did you guys fuck?" nobara whispers.

"what? no!" you laugh, whacking her shoulder as you stood up to loosen up your feet, preparing for the class conducted by masamichi himself today.

"i'll explain everything when i get back home, okay?" you say to the three of them, stuck in a side hug with nobara as her arm stay loosely wrapped around your waist.

they can only offer you their  nods, bidding you goodbye with a slight wave.

as you enter the same rehearsal studio, there's only a single lone dancer in it, stretching over in a middle split as he scrolls on his phone mindlessly.

"hey," you call out to gojo, setting your bag of things down while you run up to him. he stands up instantly, pulling you into an embrace that shocks you with the sheer force of it.

"did you already miss me? that's fast."

he mumbles into your hair, "mhmm... shut up, please."

you laugh at that, recovering from the hug despite the other's protests.

"c'mon, i need to warm up, plus we're supposed to keep this a secret, right?"

gojo whines but lets you go anyway, but not before he plants a kiss on your hand as he lets you do your own thing. the next set of footsteps catch you in surprise, eyes widening at her presence when you run up to her in excitement.

"ieiri-senpai! are you feeling better?" you ask, peeking around at her feet, where she limped on earlier.

"yes, i am, (y/n)," she pats your head and realises your choice of clothing. you noticed her smirk, but before you could counter her question, she beats you to it, "and... i've seen that the dumbass finally made a move."

there's no denying the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks, seemingly oblivious to the stares from everyone when in reality, they were curious to know of what happened the day before.

"yeah, i guess he did," you sigh dreamily, giving off your feelings as ieiri could only smile at your situation.

mei mei enters the room with authority, making you perk up at her words as she walks to the centre of the barre with purpose.

"i trust that you've solved everything, yes? because you two have been quite the talk around the studio," mei mei states, braiding her hair into a side braid as ieiri takes a seat.

"i took her hand to get away from the crowd, sensei. if anything, i should be blamed for engaging in contact that might've given off the assumption that we were dating," gojo steps up.

"but you are dating, aren't you?" mei mei grins, putting on her shoes.

"i..." you tried to speak, but gojo interrupts you before then.

"only if she'll have me, then yes, we are."

you fight back a smile, stepping forward to catch his hand in yours. he's shaking, not at all the confident gojo satoru that you've become so accustomed to.

"yes," your single affirmation holds so much weight, looking up at him with as much joy as he did with you in the morning.

"okay, good! i've gone through enough of gojo staring at you from across the room. let's continue," mei mei casually says, "i'm sure (y/n) has heard the news, yes?"

she's quick to pull you out of your thoughts of gojo looking at you during rehearsals with the question of the news that left you texting the trio at 1am.

[nitta-sensei is typing...]

(y/n)? do you have a minute to spare?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yes sensei?

what seems to be the...

you're cut off by the abrupt phone call as gojo brushes his teeth, speaking to you, though incoherently, through the foam and lather in his mouth.

"yes, nitta-sensei? what is it?"

"i'm sorry for conveying this news over the phone, and i was too excited to wait until the next day. you might or might not like it, but... you're to replace ieiri in the gala event for now." by now, gojo had stopped brushing due to your lack in reply.

he peeks his head out of the bathroom as nitta continues, "she has to heed her orthopaedic's advice and take a break for now, but since you've been shadowing the two for a good amount of time, masamichi thinks its best you take up the role of the female part."

your jaw stays dropped even after nitta says her goodbyes, the phone lit up due to your shock. 

"(y/n)? what happened?"

"i'm going to be dancing with you, gojo," you say quietly, "i'm dancing the pas de deux with you!" 

you bow your head in acknowledgement, "yes, i have." 

ieiri sees the hesitation since now the original dancer was seated in front of you. she shoots you a double thumbs-up as motivation while mei mei briefs you on the gala like she did with the couple at the start.

it's short, and within the next moment, you're already flying through the sky with gojo's help. the steps start to become more apparent and distinct to you, letting the pianist lead the way as the lifts and pair work merge together like a seamless thread.

mei mei is firm in her teaching, knowing your weaknesses and strengths by heart with the past rehearsals that she's done. stopping the two of you before letting ieiri take over was routine, but for now, ieiri contributes with her wisdom from the chair instead. 

the rehearsal progresses slowly, opting instead to complete it bit by bit as the weeks turn into days and the days turn into hours. you had to take extra care of your feet, icing them and making sure your blisters don't distract you as rehearsals extend longer to ensure your best performance.

when you had your own commitments, your best friends had theirs, fulfilling principal or first soloist roles just for the gala. there was hardly any time for you to see the trio, but you made up with late facetime calls and online dinners with them.

even with the distance in the company class, gojo never fails to make it up to you with kisses under the moonlight as you watch video after video on don quixote, although taking a specific liking to the pairing of nuñez and muntagirov. 

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"you ready?" gojo lets out a nervous breath, already hearing the chatter of the gala attendees behind the curtains. beside you, other dancers are warming up for their own parts. some were doing a solo while others were doing a pas de deux like you were, but nonetheless, everyone gathered here was to share the love for ballet.

"hell no, i'm shaking," you laugh, playing with the elastic that was to go over your middle finger. a beautiful, white tutu was tailored just for you with minor tweaks from ieiri's tutu while they were in the midst of completing it. to honour and perform the role of kitri gave you immense joy and excitement, even though you were jittery at the responsibility passed on to you.

"how are you doing?" nobara asks, making you jump at the sudden voice. she lets out a giggle, "sorry."

 "i'm... very nervous. is that even a question?" you ask her, holding onto her exposed shoulder a little too tightly. she dons a breathtaking, flowy costume with puffy sleeves and intricate detail. at the same time, yuji was suited up as nobara's partner in a pair of yellow tights, completing the couple look in the comedy-filled la fille mal gardée.

"oi, hot pants, come here! my partner's here finally after taming his hair," nobara jokes, pulling yuji over. they lean into each other's sides naturally, posing with peace signs and big smiles that they were asked to convey to the audience.

"good luck out there," megumi catches your attention, awkward as can be, as he pulls you in for a hug. his pas de deux partner is smiling at you beside him, taking your hand in hers.

"your rehearsals with gojo-senpai are incredible, (y/n)-senpai! all the best for your performance later," she bows, clearly relieved at saying the things she wanted to say.

"all the best for your le corsaire, too," you grin, waving them off excitedly before joining your basilio at the hip.

"you'll do great out there, trust me," gojo places a peck on your temple, holding you close by the waist as you warm up together. there's shared laughter between the two of you, exchanging jokes to calm your nerves and keep your mind moving. with the rush hour backstage, it was imminent that the show was starting soon, the many dancers continuing their warmup without trouble.

only you seemed to be on edge, performing as the first couple of the night for a role you've always loved and adored while watching from the balcony of auditoriums.

"i will. we will." you nod, hands twined with the other's as the curtains make their way up.

"breathe. we'll nail this like we always do," gojo kisses your linked hands, staring down at you with those same eyes you fell in love with. a smile replaced what you couldn't say out loud, bumping your head into his chest as an affectionate gesture, "let's go."

among the cheers and blinding lights, you could only focus on gojo's hand on the small of your back as he led you out. with practised steps, nothing could faze you except, maybe, his dazzling smile and the gentle eyes he has on you for the whole pas de deux.

living the life of an innkeeper's daughter was what you had to portray. while your 'father' was hesitant at first, he's finally given you the blessing to marry your lover, basilio. the glimmering tutu and effortless partnership was only half the job done, and for the radiant smile you had on at the moment, you hoped at least ieiri and mei mei would be proud of the story you were telling together with gojo.

the feeling from rehearsals is amplified on stage, with the orchestra's power and the costumes, providing you with a feeling like no other. and as gojo approaches with a flawless tour en l'air, you realise that with how much work you put in behind the scenes, the result always pays off. 

as gojo has his hands on your waist, twirling you around like nothing in a quadruple pirouette, you realise that every step was made possible with the help of ieiri and mei mei and your best friends and lastly, gojo satoru.

the golden, treasured prodigy which you somehow managed to develop feelings for. the talented principal who whines when you won't refuse to give him affection and the once-cocky individual who softens just at the sight of you.

and as the music reaches the end, you want nothing more than to stay in this pas de deux with gojo satoru, in a dance of two.

you end off on an incredible note, chest heaving from the demanding technicalities of the pas de deux. nevertheless, your brain shuts out the thunderous applause, with some imparting you with their standing ovations and others who decided to scream 'bravo!' at the stage.

gojo offers a grin, bringing you close with a hand as you thank the audience with endless curtseys. bowing to your partner was next, thanking him for the interminable rehearsals and that hectic day of emotion from the studio right up to his home.

you almost practically run backstage with the adrenaline flowing through your body, the next act already on stage for the gala. 

"oh my god, oh my god!" you whisper-shout in pure glee, hugging gojo close the moment you were out of view of the audience.

"you did it."

"we did it," you reassure, pulling from the embrace to smile up at him. you could feel the dancers' eyes around you, not knowing whether they should look to you or to look away.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "'s okay, let them look. i don't mind it when i'm with you."

"just to confirm, we... shouldn't kiss, right?" you mumble, but you inch closer to his lips anyway.

"no... i don't think we should," gojo grins, indulging you in the very kiss you've waited for, knowing that right now, it wasn't the stage lights, nor was it the general heat after completing a difficult pas de deux.

it's as if the world gave you rose-tinted glasses, because that was all you could recognise now as gojo pulls you from backstage with your hand tightly locked onto his. he wasn't the six eyes theatre's prized principal, he was just gojo as you run past the many costumes being hung with the click-clacking of your pointe shoes.

you could compare it, almost, to running across a field with a billowing dress behind you, but alas, you were satisfied with being his kitri. for when she and basilio have a life of marriage ahead of them, you and gojo satoru have nothing but longing glances and shared laughter over your stumbling slip-ups in the studio as you tackle one act after the next.

the pas de deux was a connection and a story, and the both of you were just starting out yours. 

[theoutcastrogue]

Brigantesse

These are some of the most famous female brigands of Italy. By coincidence, they were all born on the same year, and their criminal activities took place during and after the complete mayhem that was the Unification of Italy.

The first four photos are of Michelina Di Cesare (1841–1868), the next three are of Maria Oliverio (1841–1879), and the last two of Filomena Pennacchio (1841–1915), on the left, along with her two friends and accomplices Giuseppina Vitale and Maria Giovanna Tito.

In Italy, like in Spain, female bandits were uncommon but not unheard of, especially in such tumultuous times. These three women had very different reasons to become outlaws: Michelina was basically driven by poverty, Maria hacked her own sister to pieces with an axe because she “slandered” her (it's pretty fucked up if you ask me, but that's Honour™ for ya: talk shit, get brutally murdered), and Filomena got tired of getting beaten by her husband and stabbed him to death with a pin. So rather than stick around and get caught (or starve), they all chose a brigand's life.

There's a lot of complicated context here re: the political situation, but post-Unification brigandage in Italy is a whole field of history in itself, so I won't get into it. Let's just say that all three of them operated (more or less) against the new regime, being vaguely pro-Bourbon, and leave it at that. Though I should note that, much like Royalist highwaymen during the English Civil War or pretty much anyone during the Mexican Revolution, people often became robbers first and found a political justification later, especially if there was a faction willing to offer them support in exchange for doing some dirty work or another.

Behind the camera / posing for the camera

But I want to talk about the photographs themselves. These aren't candid shots, they are photo-shoots, and I am endlessly fascinated by bandit portraits. It's a whole genre, these portraits, there were tons of them taken in the late 19th and early 20th century, from South America to the Mediterranean and from Eastern Europe to China, wherever bandits thrived and photographers were around. (And I suppose with North American gunslingers too, but y'all already know about those, right?) The bandits stand in front of the camera and pose, rarely with a frown, often with a smile, always with a gun and just brimming with pride.

And I always wonder, what's the story behind the picture? How did the photographer meet the bandit in the first place, and how did he feel directing a dangerous outlaw? (”Stand over there, head a bit to the right, hold the rifle higher, now hold still please.”) Was he scared? Excited? How did they come to an agreement? Who had to convince whom? And for that matter, who directed whom? Portraits are traditionally credited to the photographer, but any photographer worth his salt will tell you that it's really a collaboration, and that they can't possibly take what their subject won't give.

So sometimes the whole thing was the photographer’s idea, perhaps backed by a newspaper or other publication. It would be too generous to call it “photojournalism”, it was mostly sensationalist tabloids looking for a quick buck. Other times the bandits went and hired a photographer entirely of their own initiative, to construct their public image by themselves and/or to keep the photos as a private memento. There are accounts of bandits basically kidnapping a photographer and marching him through the wilderness to their hideout, where he is treated like an honoured guest – and also forced to take their portraits, or else. Common props (other than guns) are bandoliers, knives, and various trophies. Sometimes they even take an action pose, pretending to be mid-fight, or hiding for an ambush. Sometimes it’s important to shoot on location and depict them in their element, commanding their realm (a very common moniker for bandits is “King of the Mountains”). The possibilities are endless.

And there’s just something so inherently boastful and defiant, to cheerfully pose for a portrait with a smile and a gun and a price on your head.

Post mortem

As for the photo-shoots of these Italian brigantesse, we know the story of two of them. The first one, of Michelina Di Cesare, was shot very professionally in a studio in Rome. Her photos circulated a lot in the press, and were used as propaganda for her, and her gang, and indirectly the Bourbon loyalists (who may have paid for them). That’s probably why she isn’t wearing her normal clothes, but a traditional peasant costume: she’s dressed up as a folk heroine. Sometimes bandits just had to be media-savvy.

The second one, of Maria Oliverio, was unusually taken after her capture (during which she was injured in the arm). It’s unclear whose idea it was, but she was sentenced to death and then pardoned by the king, her sentence commuted to life in prison. As for the third one, of Filomena Pennacchio and friends, we don’t know how it came to be but it’s pretty ironic, considering that Filomena eventually surrendered and collaborated, leading to the arrest of those same friends she posed with. She was sentenced to 20 years in prison, and eventually did 8.

Maria Oliverio’s post-capture photos (the second set) are remarkable. It’s hard to imagine that they were taken without the consent and supervision of the authorities, so I find it extremely strange that they are actual portraits, the kind which glorifies the bandit, rather than the standard gory post-mortem photographs which police so gleefully distributed after they killed (or executed) bandits. These aimed instead to demystify and ridicule and straight up defile the body, turn the person to a thing, strip the bandit from agency, dignity, sometimes even clothes. (Michelina Di Cesare, who was killed in battle, got that treatment too.) But that’s also a whole field of research in itself (just look up bibliographies for “the criminal corpse”, it’s... quite depressing, really), so I won’t get to it either. Perhaps Oliverio’s captors were vaguely pro-Bourbon too, and that accounts for the strangely flattering photo-shoot, who knows.

[neon-junkie]

The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: After a too-close-for-comfort encounter with a wolf, Flaco finds himself in a new form, and he's willing to put all of his new abilities to good use.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x f!Reader

Word Count: 5254

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Werewolf/Human, Mating, Accidental knotting, Monsters, slight A/B/O, Scents, Praise, Dirty talk, Mating press, Transformation, Smut without a plot.      

Notes: This is ENTIRELY self-indulgent and super horny. I'm not sorry for it at all, not in the slightest.

It was just a scratch. A tiny, little scratch that could have been much worse if Flaco hadn't managed to draw his sawn off shotgun just in time, blowing the wolf's chest open. You fussed him, jabbing back at his protests, insisting that despite it barely bleeding, the wound still needed to be treated; who knows what diseases that wolf was carrying.

Flaco's gloves were ruined, and another scar is soon to join his various collection, dotted across his body. "I'll buy you another pair when I come to see you next," you told him as you patched him up before both of you retired to bed, throwing a few extra logs on the fire to keep the chill out tonight.

Only you wake up sweating, peeling off your clothes, tossing them to the floor in an attempt to cool down. You're no stranger to being naked around Flaco, considering how many times you've found yourself in those kinds of situations with him, but it feels odd, being completely bare and rolling over, your eyes half-lidded, to cuddle up to the thickness of his coat.

But his coat feels thicker than usual; the fur feels longer, cleaner, not matted and slightly rough like the usual, well-worn Bison coat that he wears. You try and not pay much attention to it, wrapping your arm around his waist, attempting to be the big spoon, only to be met with even longer hair as your palm rubs across his chest.

Not only does his coat feel unusual, but he feels big. Well, Flaco's a big man, but this is suspiciously big, as if he's doubled in size. After a few minutes of trying to ignore it, you give up, propping yourself up on an elbow and tapping Flaco awake. The logs from a few hours ago are finally turning into embers, barely lighting the cabin, but still keeping it somewhat warm and lit, not that you need that extra heat right now.

"What?" Flaco grumbles, making no effort to move.

"..." what are you meant to say? that you woke him up because his coat feels weird? "Just roll over," you instruct, and he complies without question.

Flaco's reaching out, attempting to bundle you up in his arms, assuming you just want to cuddle. However, you feel the life suddenly drain from you as you're met with a sight that you can't quite explain. That's not Flaco, or at least, not the Flaco that you know. That's not human, either, but it's still... him...

"Look at me," you order, your voice quiet yet firm, and Flaco laughs at your sternness.

"What? am I cuddling you wrong?" he chuckles. Flaco looks up with a happy smile, warmth in his deep, brown eyes, his ears perking up, and his wet nose wiggling. Your mouth is wide open, stuttering a string of incoherent sounds, and Flaco's smile soon fades away as he realizes that you seem off. "What is it?" he questions, shuffling up the bed and sitting upright, the blankets pooling down over his waist, exposing his thick hairy chest, only this time, he's covered. Literally.

"You're... uh... Flaco, you're a..." you attempt to inform in, but words continue to fail you. Should you laugh? cry? scream? Instead, you scurry out of bed, rushing over to your rucksack and fishing a pocket mirror from it. He laughs when you hand it over, assuming that you're making a fuss over nothing.

"Oh, have I got dirt on my face again? you know, it's not that big of a deal, there's no need to-" Flaco shuts his mouth once his gaze meets his reflection, only for it to fall open again seconds later when he's confirmed that yes, that really is what he looks like right now. "I'm a wolf," Flaco exclaims, and begins grinning at his own reflection, checking out his teeth, or specifically, his fangs.

Of course Flaco is going to be overjoyed about this. Something catches the corner of your eye, quietly thudding in the darkness beside the wall. You pull the blanket from Flaco to be met with his tail, long and fluffy, wagging away joyfully. "Nice," Flaco comments with a laugh, brushing through the fur on his tail with his large paws, as if to confirm that it's really there.

"Nice?!" you yelp. "How is this nice, Flaco? you're not human!"

"Yeah, nice! Now I really am a wolf, huh? it's not a metaphor any more," Flaco laughs, flashing his fangs as he chuckles to himself.

Oh, you know how much Flaco likes to call himself 'the wolf.' He wears his title with pride, like a badge of honour, so much to the point that he often refers to himself in third-person with that nickname. He's a proud man, and even prouder to associate himself with such an animal; and his pride only seems to be doubling in size due to his new form.

Flacos focus is on his reflection again, and you watch as he shuffles out of bed, attempting to stand, only to bonk his head on the roof of his cabin. "Mierda!" Flaco hisses, crouching over and giving the top of his head a rub; he lets out a soft whimper as he settles down by the fire, using its light so he can admire himself in more detail, opening up your pocket mirror once more.

You sit and watch, mouth open, questioning how this has happened. Flaco's reaction really shouldn't be a surprise to you, and you decide to leave him to gussy himself up, whilst you begin trailing into deep through about how this might have happened.

It must have been the wolf from yesterday, the scratch on Flaco's hand. "I think it's a curse," you mutter to yourself as you pull the blanket up over your shoulders, bundling your naked body up, something that for once, Flaco has paid no attention to. The blanket covers most of your frame, your feet sticking out at the bottom, and the rest of you is snugly covered.

"Cursed?" Flaco repeats. "Eh, I don't think it's a curse, but a blessing instead."

"A blessing?!" you yelp, "how?! what if you're stuck like this forever?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to get use to having a big, loving werewolf as a partner then," Flaco laughs. His laughter is deep, coming straight from his chest, as always. However, there's now a soft growl in the mix, his fangs on display as he chuckles away.

"Flaco this isn't the time for jokes!" you pout, standing up and peering down at him with softly furrowed brows. "I'm not joking!" he defends, and attempts to stand yet again. This time, Flaco doesn't hit his head; he's unable to stand up straight, his back arching slightly, his frame standing tall over you in a way that doesn't mean to be dominating, but it is. And for some reason, you don't seem to mind, knowing that this werewolf in front of you is far from a threat... unless this really is a curse, and he begins to change even more.

"You don't like me like this?" Flaco questions, and lets out a soft whine when you don't reply, his ears falling flat. He crouches back down to your level, attempting to meet your height. "C'mon, look how nice and soft my fur is," Flaco states as he moves your hand to stroke over his chest, "and look at how my tail wags whenever I look as you!"

You let out a light laugh, peering behind him to admire the wag of his tail. He knows you're concerned, seeing as you're the logical one in this relationship. "I don't want to start petting you until I know how to get you out of this mess," you explain, moving your hand off his chest to wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Okay, chiquita," Flaco nods. "You have a think about it," he encourages. Flaco finally puts your pocket mirror away, slipping it into your rucksack, and watches as you begin pondering on your thoughts.

The wolf from yesterday. The scratch on his hand. A curse. A blessing. You're no stranger to reading about werewolves in books, fictional books, fantasy ones, books that aren't real, or aren't meant to be real. Only there's a werewolf crouched beside you, watching in awe as you begin pacing around the room in thought. Flaco tries not to stare, not wanting to overcrowd you, and continues checking his new form out instead.

He gawks down at his frame, coated in a layer of thick, dark hair. His paw pads are soft, squishy, complimented by his long claws, sharp enough to cause some serious damage. Flaco's tail relaxes behind him, but begins softly wagging as he peers over to you, watching you pace and ponder.

You pull the blankets up higher, the edges brushing against your neck, your arms beneath them, cocooned inside with only your feet and head poking out. Flaco's head tilts as he admires how protective you are over him, so concerned for his safety, his future, and his current form. However, his admiration is paused, and Flaco's nose begins to twitch, picking up a scent he's never noticed before.

Flaco begins sniffing the air, his head perked up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut so he can put more focus into the scent that's caught his attention. It seems he's developed heightened senses, and he's putting them to good use.

"Can you smell that?" Flaco questions, but you're too trapped in thought to bother replying. "You smell different," Flaco states, his head now peering down at you, watching as you continue to waddle about his cabin. "Now right now, Flaco," you brush him off, shutting your eyes and rubbing your temples, attempting to find some sort of cure for Flaco's new form. "You smell sweet," he states, and shuffles closer to you, his nose twitching as he presses it to your shoulder. Flaco quickly moves it away, your scent now being covered up by the thick blanket, so he crouches further down, only to be lightly pushed away seconds later. "Flaco," you grumble. His deep eyes meet yours before he dips his head down again. He buries his nuzzle beneath the blanket, and you yelp as a cold, wet nose presses against your knee, swatting him away once more. "You smell slick," Flaco states. There's a huskiness to his voice, a deep and low growl that comes straight from his chest. His eyes meet yours, dark and alluring, peering up at you before disappearing beneath the blanket again. "Flaco!" you grumble again, but Flaco doesn't let you push him away this time. You feel something cold and wet on the inside of your thighs, followed by a gust of wind - Flaco has his nose pressed just below your pussy, and he's inhaling your scent. A large paw wraps itself around your thigh, and Flaco boldly moves his nose up, his wetness now pressed softly on your clit. "You smell like you need me to help you calm down," he states after taking in another deep inhale, before removing himself from under the blanket. Flaco stands tall, his back slightly bent over, gazing down at you with slightly furrowed brows - a natural expression for your partner. The hand on your thigh moves itself to your waist, now pressed over the blanket; his hands have always been big, but this is ridiculous. Flaco could pick you up as if you're nothing, his single paw covering most of your body, making you feel so small and inferior. "I know that tone, Flaco, and I'm not letting you... seduce me right now, not when you're like this," you huff, sending him a glare and gesturing to his body. He laughs. It's deep, a mixture between a growl and a human laugh, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. "C'mon, don't you want to try it?" Flaco questions. "You're just turned into some... dog... and the first thing you want to do is fuck?!" you yelp. "Correction, I've turned into a wolf, a werewolf, and mhmm," he nods. "I do, do you?" Your eyes meet the floor, looking away from the beast towering over you, his thumb now softly stroking over the blanket, attempting to soothe you. You can't deny that you're not curious, but is it wrong? to fuck somebody that's... well, that? He's still Flaco, he's still your partner; only now he's doubled in size, is covered in hair, and has perky ears, a snout, and a tail. "I can sense how curious you are, chiquita. My senses have heightened. I know how you look when you're aroused, but now I can really smell it," Flaco flashes you a toothy grin, dipping his head down to your level as he crouches. He licks your cheek, his rough and damp tongue brushing over your skin, coating most of your face in one stroke. "What was that?!" you cry, and attempt to push his snout away. "A kiss," Flaco states, before licking you again. Ugh, should you be surprised? of course Flaco is going to put all of his new abilities to use. All of them. He moves from your cheek, making his way down to your neck, attempting to kiss the usual spots that you enjoy. "C'mon, we can do doggy style," Flaco urges with a soft laugh, chuckling at his own joke. "You're a menace, you know that, right?" you huff, placing your hands on his large cheeks and moving his head so that he's looking directly at you. "I know," Flaco laughs again. "We can give this a try... but if I say stop, then you stop, alright?" "Oh, come on, you know I'll stop if you tell me to," Flaco shakes his head. He understands that you're after reassurance, concerned with exactly how this is going to go. "Flaco promises he'll take care of you," he says with a wag of his tail. "...and don't start howling," you order. Flaco laughs again, giving you another cheek kiss between his chuckle. "Okay, no howling. Flaco promises," he giggles, and begins urging you over to the bed.

Flaco's gentle as he slips the blanket from your shoulders, letting it fall back onto the bed. He attempts to kiss your neck again, running his tongue over your skin, resisting the urge to attempt giving you a hickey. The last thing that he ever wants to do is hurt you, so he's being extra cautious in his new form; his claws are sharp, his teeth even sharper, not to mention his intimidating size and figure. But his eyes remain soft, a deep brown, the same shade as his 'normal' ones. Those dark eyes meet yours as he climbs on top of you, before shutting them as he nuzzles you. Large paws find their way to your waist, trailing down to your thighs, the rest of his body following after as he shuffles down the bed. The bed is far too small for him, so Flaco pulls you until your legs are dangling over the side, and he settles on the floor, still having to dip his head so that he's in line with your body. His breath is hot, tickling your skin as he dips between your thighs. There's a pause of uncertainty, before Flaco presses his wet nose against your clit. He instantly moves it away, exhaling heavily, and mutters "too much," under his breath. His tail is wagging, thumping against the floor, and you can only assume your scent is making him a little too excited. Flaco dips his head down again, this time letting his tongue fall from his mouth, and licks a firm stripe across your cunt. He peers up to watch your reaction, checking for any signs of discomfort, and since you've shown none he does it again, over and over, both of you getting use to this new sensation. His tongue is rough, but soft, squishy, but firm, the perfect balance between wolf and man. The paws wrapped around your thighs tighten their grip, his claws pressed against your skin, but not digging into you. Over time, Flaco becomes more confident, and begins lapping at your clit, his tongue occasionally slipping into your cunt, making his thick hair tickle the inside of your thighs. He's bigger in every way, his tongue reaching depths that it's never reached before, making you whimper as you finally relax on the bed. Flaco's ears perk up, overhearing your positive reaction, reassuring him that he's doing well. His licks become firmer, longer, wetter, more open mouthed; unintentionally Flaco's fangs begin to trail over your skin, light enough that he's not hurting you, or even realizing what he's doing. However, you're definitely aware; it's a strange sensation, having a set of sharp teeth almost nibble at your lower stomach, often trailing up to your bellybutton whenever Flaco opens his mouth wider, pushing his tongue deeper into your cunt. "F-Flaco, that's..." you stutter, your head still pressed to the bed. "Huh?" Flaco hums. He slips his tongue from you, resting his chin on your stomach, worried that he's accidentally hurt you. "Your teeth, they're..." "Sharp?" "Uh-huh, but they're... it's uh... they feel nice," you manage to stutter. Flaco bites back a laugh. He licks his chops, your taste heavy on his tongue and around his mouth, and dips his head back down to lap at your cunt again. "Oh, so you do like it when this big, bad wolf has his jaws wrapped around you?" Flaco teases, ensuring that his teeth continue to trail over your skin in between kisses. "Yeah..." you shyly confirm, and let out a soft yelp as Flaco dips his tongue into your cunt again. He removes one of his paws from your thighs, going to slip a finger into you, but stops in his tracks. "Mhm," Flaco grumbles, realizing that his claws are far too sharp to be risking that. "Hey, finger yourself for me," Flaco orders, and grins when you readjust your position, reaching down and beginning to work yourself open. You dive straight in with two fingers, seeing as Flaco's thick tongue already counts as one, possibly more. He watches for a few moments, admiring how flustered you look, before dipping his head between your thighs again. You know what's going to happen, but since Flaco is crouched down on the floor, his body bent over, you're unable to see what he looks like. Is his cock... normal? it must be bigger, surely? seeing as he's doubled in size. You decide to prepare yourself for the worst, or the best, you'll just have to wait and see. You begin to scissor yourself, attempting to loosen your cunt up as much as possible. Flaco takes up the opportunity, and dips his tongue into your pussy, slipping it between your fingers, and runs it along your soft, velvet walls. The noise you let out can only be described as a bitch in heat, a whine, calling out for Flaco to come and fill you up. "You can fit another," he urges, and lets out a soft sigh when you slip a third finger in. "Good girl," Flaco praises, and you assume the thumping you can overhear is his tail wagging against the floor again. Yet again, you attempt to scissor yourself, and within time you're certain you could fit a fourth finger in... but what about fitting Flaco? Hm, you'll find out eventually. You're getting there, slowly but surely; Flaco's spit and slobber is slick enough to help stretch you open, and he graces you with even more as he slides his tongue into your pussy again. Flacos hand disappears from your thigh, dipping down between his own legs, and you know he's touching himself. Nervously, you ask an important question "Flaco, how big are you?" "Big," Flaco blankly states, chuckling as he removes his tongue. "D-Do you think it'll fit?" you question. "I guess we'll just have to find out, eh?" he laughs. "Do you think you're ready? you look it," he comments, and moves his head back down to press his wet nose directly on your clit, his ears perking upright and his tail wagging even faster. "You smell it, too," he grins, flashing his fangs. "Yeah... Okay, I'm ready," you nod.

And with that, Flaco's up on his feet, crawling on top of you on the bed. He wolfhandles you, moving you up to the centre, giving himself enough room to join you. Flaco's grinning, and places a soft lick-kiss to your cheek before sitting back on his knees, finally showing you what's between his legs. Liar. There's no way he's going to fit. "What the-" you stutter, sitting upright and reaching out. Your hand alone is nothing compared to his cock, and even as you wrap both hands around it, there's still some untouched space left over. "Flaco, there's no way this is going to fit," you sigh, comparing his cock against your forearm. Flaco laughs. "It will, Flaco promises," he nods. "You've just gotta relax and let me take the lead, okay?" "Okay, but I-" "-Shh," Flaco hushes. "Stop doubting yourself, we both know you can fit me," he reassures, and presses his paw to your chest, lightly pushing you back down against the bed. The paw on your chest moves to your thigh, holding you steady, and his other hovers by his cock. You watch as Flaco spits on his cock- no, he dribbles on it, letting thick strings of spit coat his length, falling from his jaw, and then pumps himself a few times, ensuring he's generously slick. He moves his hand to the bed, just above your head, and uses the other to hold his length steady as he begins pushing into you. You lie there awkwardly, feeling the tip of his thick cock rub against your entrance, unable to slide in. Flaco begins to grumble, his tail no longer wagging, and his brows furrowing. He dribbles again, being far too generous and soaking your cunt, but it's enough to help ease in the head of his cock. You yelp and begin hissing, unintentionally tightening up around the tip of Flaco's cock. He's thick, unbelievably thick, and you're starting to question your life choices. "Relax," Flaco orders. He dips his head down to your level, placing a wet kiss to your cheek, and grumbles "relax," softly against your ear. Deep breaths. It's not that bad, honestly; once you begin untensing and calming down, you realize he's surprisingly snug, stretching your pussy in a way that makes you shiver, and your reaction came from fear, not his size. "Good girl," Flaco says as he licks your cheek again. "You let me know when you're ready for more." You take your time, relaxing your walls, unclenching them around Flaco's length. Finally, you give him a nod, and he begins sliding into you. There's a slight burn as he stretches you out, his cock getting thicker the deeper it goes, and he comes to a halt just past halfway. There's a knot to your stomach, a tight one, and you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. "How is this? okay?" Flaco double checks, straightening his back and talking down to you. "Y-yeah, it's okay," you nod. Once again, you're struggling to relax, so you calm yourself by rubbing quick circles on your clit, along with taking deep breaths. "Too big for you, eh?" Flaco chuckles. "Of course you're too big, Flaco." "Give it time, you'll warm up to me eventually," he shrugs, cockily grinning as he talks. Flaco's patient, waiting for you to ask for more, and when you do finally ask, he happily delivers it. He continues sliding in slowly, and your eyes go wide once you feel his fur press against your clit. "You fit?" you question, shuffling up on your elbows to peer down between your legs, instantly noticing the bulge to your stomach. "Mhm," Flaco nods, "I told you I would. Now we've just gotta see if you can keep up," he smirks.

Flaco takes a hold of your legs, lifting them up and wrapping them around his waist, your ankles barely crossing over behind his back. He bends forward, his body towering over yours; one paw stays wrapped around your thigh, whilst the holds his weight up, placed above your head. Your knees hit your shoulders, practically bent in half, and you're about to ask why Flaco's wolfhandled you into this position, but he begins thrusting.

His patience has worn thin, and Flaco jumps straight in with a quickened pace, forcing you to yelp beneath him. The new position makes sense, as he's able to really drive his cock deep inside you, smacking your cervix with every thrust, turning both pairs of your cheeks red. "You are tight, aren't you?" Flaco smugly comments, flashing his fangs as he licks your cheek again, his attempt of a kiss.

All you manage to do is nod, unable to process words, let alone thoughts. You begin rubbing your clit again, whining beneath Flaco, whimpering as he fucks you, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the cabin. "You sound like you need me to fill you up," Flaco states. He lets out a deep breath before saying "and it smells like you need it too."

"Y-yeah, I do," you stutter, nodding at the same time.

"All in good time, loba."

Flaco picks up his pace, mercilessly slamming his cock into you; his ears perk up at the sounds you're making, moans and mewls, and Flaco can't help but let out a choked whine, intoxicated by every part of you. He soon begins softly panting, slowly over-working himself from the fast pace, but Flaco's stubborn to the point that he won't slow down, not until you're overflowing with his load.

There's still a slight burn to your cunt, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel strangely good. Flaco's knot is threatening to slip inside you; it's wider than the rest of his cock, but only slightly, and you're certain that within time, it'll slip in. How big do those things get? There's only so much that you can, and now that you've taken this much, far more than you ever thought you'd be able to handle, you're uncertain on where your new limit lies.

You tighten your legs around Flaco's waist, feeling your orgasm slowly approaching, your clit rubbing so fast that your wrist is starting to ache. You attempt to grip onto Flaco's arm with your spare hand, but Flaco swats your hand away, and pins it down to the bed, his large paw wrapping around your wrist, feeling so dainty in his grasp.

"You're going to cum for me soon, aren't you?" Flaco questions, speaking directly into your ear.

"Uh-huh," you manage to nod.

"Good girl. Go on, I want to feel how tight you get around me," he orders.

Should you feel this good? being mercilessly fucked by your werewolf partner, whimpering and whining in his grap, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You've always felt small beneath Flaco, but this is taking things to a whole new level; he's towering over you, folding your body in half, your knees pressed firmly against your shoulders. Flaco shifts his weight, planting his feet on the bed and bending his legs, bucking his hips down against yours. He whimpers at the slight change of position, and both of you let out a choked moan as Flaco's knot finally slips into you.

The sensation of being full to the brim - overly full - causes you to cum. Your wrist is burning from being over-worked, and you clench tightly around Flaco's cock, panting and sighing as your body begins to tremble. Your orgasm catches Flaco off guard, letting out a choked moan as you squeeze his cock, milking him for all he's worth as he joins your high. Flaco cums, and he doesn't seem to stop cumming, fucking his load into you, hoards of it over-flowing and spilling from your pussy, dripping down over your ass and onto the bed.

His tail is wagging in the air, your knees are pressed right against your shoulders, and Flaco won't stop thrusting, over-stimulating both of you. Eventually, he's forced to stop, his cock buried deep inside you as his knot begins to flair up. "Mierda," Flaco yelps, tugging on it; he instantly stops when you yelp in pain, and mutters another string of swears under his breath.

"I didn't think it would do that," Flaco confesses. He sits back on his knees, not bothered by his mess on the bed, and gawks down at the sight of his swollen cock buried inside you, a visible bulge to your stomach. "Are you okay? does it hurt?"

"Not really," you shake your head; you're still trembling, catching your breath, barely able to keep your eyes open. There's a slight burn to Flaco's knot, but you've been stretched to a point that your body seemed to be expecting it, and thankfully, it's oddly sensual, similar to whenever you've cock warmed him, only on a larger scale. "It's uh, strange, but it doesn't hurt. Just don't tug on it..."

"Good," he sighs.

Flaco asks you to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he shuffles about on the bed, finding a comfortable position for you both. He kicks off the dirty cover after using some salvageable parts to clean both of you up, and thankfully, Flaco's warm, warm enough to keep you cosy throughout the night, and you feel even warmer as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head resting on his chest.

"What did you think of that, huh?" Flaco eventually questions.

"It was... something," you sigh, unable to find the exact words.

"Oh. Did you not enjoy it?" he whines, perking his head up to peer down at you.

"No, no! I enjoyed it... a lot... too much," you sheepishly reply. "And I think you enjoyed it too," you tease, tensing your walls, giving his knotted cock a squeeze.

"Don't do that," Flaco whimpers, his ears falling back, "you'll get me worked up again."

Is that a bad thing?" you raise a brow, and Flaco chuckles at your eagerness.

"Hey, earlier on you were too nervous to try it, and now you're asking for me to fill you up again?" he laughs, trailing his paws tenderly over your back.

"You did spill most if it," you shrug, and Flaco rolls his eyes at your comment.

"How about I wake you up with a morning surprise? once this swelling has gone down. We didn't do doggy, so I think we need to make up for that?" he offers. Flaco smirks when you nod in agreement; if you had a tail, it would also be wagging.

He places another kiss to your cheek, but this time uses his nose rather than his tongue. Flaco's head rolls back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, his arms wrapped around you, acting as a blanket. His cock is still swollen, but it's strangely soothing; it's practically the same as falling asleep whilst cock warming, something that you two have done many times before.

And you won't be surprised when Flaco wakes you up how he usually does, with slow and deep thrusts, and soft coos of praise and affection.

[what-the-witch-stuff]

Landings Through the Grapevine

Chapter 1: Introduction

Masterpost: here

Go to:  Ch.1   |   Ch.2   |

Pairing: Elliott x OC

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It was a quiet morning in Stardew Valley. Birds were singing faintly in the distance and a hazy mist hung in the air, transforming everything not directly close into blue-ish hues and indistinct shapes. The sun had just risen over the horizon, chasing after the last traces of pink in the otherwise clear, blue sky. Not one cloud was in sight.

This was indeed a pleasant surprise. The villagers had feared for the constant downpour, that has persisted for the last couple of days, to delay the annual spring festivities. But now, only the wet squelching sound under the farmer's boots disrupted the idyllic scenery, as she made her way around the forest clearing, where the annual Flower Dance would be taking place. Undeterred by the early hour, the preparations were going just as planned, though they were far from finished. Riley herself had only a few decorations left to hang up, but they were still waiting on a cart to bring a few chairs and parts of the sound equipment.

A loud continuous thumping echoed over the meadow as Robin was still busy with setting up Pierre's booth. The noise was shortly interrupted, as Robin readjusted the planks she was working on, before spotting the farmer.

“Good morning Riley! Oh, you cleaned up nicely.”, Robin greeted her cheerfully and looked her over. Though Robin had apologized for ever doubting Riley's ability to take over her grandfather's farm, it were comments like these that made conversing with the carpenter a bit difficult. As Riley still didn't know Robin too well, the double meaning of the statement was not lost on her. But today, the farmer wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, hoping that Robin was just a little aloof sometimes.

'Don't rock the boat now. Think about the barn upgrade' .

So, she forced herself to just smile and wave before turning back around and the noise of the hammer picked up again. For the occasion, Riley had indeed ditched her usual overall and stained-shirt combo, in favour of one of her nicer outfits she used to wear back in Zuzu City. The only thing left from her usual farming attire was her sword which, clearly visible on her left hip, marked her as a member of the Adventurer's Guild.

While she had been quite pleased with her decision at first, something about the outfit had triggered a weird feeling. It had taken some time for her to remember, that she had not worn these clothes since the fatal day, that she had quit her job at Joja Corporation. However, by the time Riley had come to that realization, it had been far too late to change into something else. The whole morning, she had tried to push the thought away, as today was supposed to be a good day, after all. The farmer was usually not the person to care much about traditions. Nevertheless, after walking around in clammy work clothes for the past week, even Riley was looking forward to the Flower Dance. It had been a little awkward during her first year, as she had been completely new to the community. And while most villagers had been rather welcoming towards her, it were customs such as the dance that still made her feel like an outsider.

'Well, what do I expect?' , Riley asked herself, while carefully climbing a ladder, to hang a couple of pastel-coloured, flower garlands into the lower branches of a tree. “This is my second year after all. Shane came to live with Marnie and Jas three years ago. Leah and Elliott moved here, roughly around the same time. They might be part of the town now, but otherwise, all of them are kind of outsiders too.” Even so, and the thought made her pause mid task with a snort, that was probably also due to their very  individual  personalities.

“Well, at least someone is having a good morning.”, remarked a deep voice from below. Speaking of the devil. Shane was looking up to her, an unreadable expression on his face and dressed in the traditional sky-blue uniform, all attending Bachelors would be wearing to the dance. In his hands was a bowl of pepper-poppers from which he ate one ever so often, while watching her work.

“Oh wow Shane, I would say you cleaned up nicely too but I might be lying”, Riley replied with a grin, to which Shane just rolled his eyes and kept chewing completely unfazed .

“Fuck you. I know I look just fine, so you can suck it!”, he grouchily mumbled, though it sounded more like he tried to convince himself rather than her. “You sure do, buddy”. Finally happy with her work, Riley descended the ladder to greet her friend properly. “And you would look even better, if you stopped stuffing your face like a pig!”.

“They're my favorite”, he protested childishly and provocatively grabbed another pepper.

“And I spend a lot of time making them all by myself.”

“I helped too”

“No, you flaked to play soccer with Jas and Vincent!”

Shane's expression bore a cheeky grin, probably anticipating to say something rude. But the pair was interrupted by Pierre, calling out for their help to unload the cart that had finally arrived….

Since Marnie was still in a not-so-secret- relationship with Mayor Lewis, she insisted on taking part in the preparations of any official festivity. Many of the dishes, decked onto a couple of large folding tables, had been prepared the previous day at Marnie's farm, with Riley chipping in her labour and even part of her harvest.

“What happened to breakfast, you greedy gremlin?”, asked Riley, saving the half empty bowl from Shane's grasp, to return it to the buffet. The gremlin in question trailed behind, pretending like he was not sulking over the loss of the food:

“As you like to remind me, microwaved pizza is no proper breakfast”. At that Riley raised both eyebrows in mock-astonishment:

“Oh, so now the good sir suddenly cares about what  I have to say ?”

“So Riley, you're not dancing?”, Marlon asked in between sips of punch.

The sun had risen higher in the sky, and the cool morning had turned into a bright midday. Everything was set up and ready. Soft music played over lively conversation, as bit by bit all villagers arrived. Riley didn't really know what to do with herself, when she could no longer hide behind tasks and actually had to socialize. Seeing Marlon standing in a far corner of the meadow, one hand calmly resting on the hilt of his sword while overseeing the scenery, presented a great excuse to escape dreadful smalltalk. They were well acquainted by now and she had not seen him in a while, other than when she visited the Guild directly. It wasn't too weird, if she made use of that affiliation, right?

If Marlon felt disturbed through her presence he didn't let it show. He just nodded in acknowledgement and together they watched the Spring Maidens enter the clearing, garbed in white from head to toe, with lacy floral decorations sewn onto their dresses and flowers in their hair.

“I think, such ' spirits ' might have other things to worry about right now”.

Unfortunately for her, even Marlon seemed talkative today and Riley answered him reluctantly: “No. As far as I am concerned, the couples dancing stay mostly the same. Wouldn't want to disrupt that order, y'a know”, That was not entirely true, though. The other reason was that a certain someone would most likely turn her down if she'd ever asked him. And Riley was not willing to open THAT can of worms anytime soon. Marlon hummed in understanding: “I see. I just thought, since you're a farmer, you might want to participate.”

“What does being a farmer have to do with that?”

Marlon looked at her, the brow above his remaining eye slightly raised in surprise: ”The flower dance is an ancient fertility ceremony. Back when the village still believed in the spirits of this land, the dance was held to gain their favour for the upcoming harvest. Surely you wouldn't want the spirits that make things grow on your bad side, ey?”.

Riley was not sure what to make of this new piece of information, so the farmer and the monster hunter fell back into silence. Looking around, the meadow didn't really look like an old or magical place to her. It most definitely didn't feel like one either. Compared to the eerie solitude of the Community Center and the claustrophobic depths of the mines, the clearing seemed so very ordinary. On the other hand, it wouldn't be the first time that the Valley proved to be full of surprises. One year ago, Riley was some disillusioned worker's bee in a corporate nightmare. Now, she belonged to a world where magic was real, wizards lived in secluded towers, monsters hid in the depths of the wild and animals could talk. Or rather, Riley could suddenly talk to them (?). Overall, the land was full of entities and forces, Riley didn't plan to meddle with, let alone offend. For a moment she got worried enough, that she almost asked Marlon directly, if he thought the Junimos would truly be cross with her, for not attending the dance. But she decided against it, as someone might end up overhearing their conversation. Surely, Marlon was one of the few people in Pelican Town, who knew about the otherworldliness of the valley. He had probably seen more than Riley would ever experience in her lifetime. But this wasn't the time and place to talk about such things openly.

“And they better have their priorities straight. If they ever dare giving me shit, for not doing that stupid dance, I'm out. Have fun rebuilding the Community Center without me !”,  

was what she did not say. “Besides, wouldn't it look silly to be wearing a sword with such a dress?”, she jokingly gestured in the direction of the Bachelorettes, but to no one in particular. Marlon, again, shortly averted his eyes from the crowd to look at her, in what one might consider to be amusement: “Silly? Kid, that sword is a badge of honour. Of course we wear it to any occasion, men and women alike. Back in the days, Old Linda wouldn't be caught dead not wearing her sword. Also made the lads keep their hands to themselves, if you know what I mean.”, at this he cackled quietly to himself and took another sip.

“What happened to them? Linda and the other women in the guild?”, Riley asked curiously since Marlon rarely was so chatty. “What do you think? This was way before your time. They're probably dead or very old. Some got married, moved to the city and forgot all about their old lives here. ….Your grandma was one of the last”.

Marlon's eyes were back on the gathering, but there was something harsh crossing his features. Riley didn't know what to say. So she just kept watching him in hopes he would elaborate on that. But he remained shrouded in silence. She knew that their conversation was over for good. And knowing Marlon, he wouldn't want to talk about it anytime soon either. So, she tried pushing her questions into the back of her mind and rather focused on the gathering at hand, where the female villagers were now the centre of attention.

The first Bachelorette she saw was the blue haired bar-maid who was hard not to overlook, thanks to her outgoing personality. Emily's dress was full of ruffles and detailed embroidery and made her look even more whimsical. Like a fairy, she was all smiles and joy, half-dancing half skipping over the grass barefoot, as her skirts flowed and billowed along her every movement. If Clint was trying not to stare at her directly, he unfortunately wasn't very good at it. And with concern, Riley noticed the disdain in his eyes when she hugged Shane and started chatting excitedly. Abigail was the polar opposite, in the way she acted all nonchalantly and kept her posture extremely casual. She smirked and rolled her eyes at anyone complimenting her dress, but soon settled into her usual group of friends and as far away from her parents, as physically possible. Haley posed a little to better show off her new dress and happily chatted with Jody and Caroline about the cut and some issues she had with shipping.

It was then that Riley caught a glimpse of auburn in the crowd and her heart skipped a beat, when she saw Elliott and Leah chatting with Marnie and Harvey. He looked handsome (but then Riley always thought he was) with his blue overcoat complimenting his fair skin tone, while contrasting his coppery hair. Leah, who didn't seem too interested in the conversation at hand, ended up catching her gaze and gave a small wave. Riley felt like she missed a step on a staircase and could hardly control the nervous flutter in her chest, when Elliott turned his head in her direction too. His noble features turned from confused to an amused smile as he spotted her. And just like the gentleman he was, he gave her a courteous nod. Riley could not help, but smile back warmly with butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

It was silly.

But a crush was a crush.

Ever since Elliott had invited her for drinks during a chance meeting at the saloon, Riley had been head over heels for the cocky and slightly eccentric writer. He was charming in his good old fashioned way. Not only did he look like the figurative embodiment of a Jane Austen character. He also played the part: always most polite and private in an outside setting and so very concerned about the impression he made on others. But once rather tipsy, Elliott had been much more forthcoming in what was actually going on in his mind. Riley fondly remembered how she couldn't stop laughing after unexpectedly hearing Elliott say ' shit ' for the first time.

It was nice. …

Just a shame, that his interest in her had not survived the night. While they had parted in good spirits, the next day, their interaction was back to pleasant conversation and occasional discussions on his drafts. Riley respected that. Of course she did. But that didn't stop her from developing quite a passion for fishing, in hopes to see him standing at the docks when battling his usual writer's block. For a moment Elliott looked as if he tried to excuse himself from his current company. He kept looking back at her with, what almost seemed like, impatience as he waited for Harvey to finish talking. But then, Mayor Lewis announced for the dance to begin and Elliot took Leah's hand, to gracefully lead her to the middle of the clearing, along with the other couples.

[kumeko]

Title: Garreg Mach Yearbook Chronicles

A/N: For the @garregmachzine I got to write four different snippets. It was a fun challenge trying to cram everything into a drabble.

Featuring: Leonie's troubles with Seteth and Flayn, Hilda charming Ferdinand to escape battle, Annette dealing with a club composed of Linhardt and Marianne, and Claude dodging Hubert's censor.

…

…

…

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Fishing Tournament

Sitting on the banks of the pond, Leonie watched as her bobber dipped in and out of the water, floating idly along an invisible current. With any luck, she’d catch a fish soon. A big one, hopefully. Usually by now she’d have caught at least one or two, but then usually she was also alone while she fished. Leonie cast an eye around her, biting her cheek at the sight of her fellow classmates. Despite how early in the morning it was, it felt like half the monastery was sitting along the pond, trying their best to catch a fish.

Then again, it wasn’t everyday that Seteth held a fishing contest. After all that’d happened in the past few months, she couldn’t deny that they needed a break like this and it seemed that everyone else agreed. Byleth sat at the docks, quietly fishing. Next to her, Sylvain lost his balance and flailed as he struggled to keep out of the water. In the distance, she spotted Caspar and Raphael comparing their catches.

“I see you are also entering the fishing contest,” a slightly musical voice asked from behind her. Startled from her thoughts, Leonie looked up in time to catch Flayn as she sat down next to her. Like, right next to her. Smiling softly, Flayn clasped her hands together as she stared at Leonie’s rod. “Did you catch anything?”

“N-not yet.” Leonie shook her head, feeling a little awkward at the proximity. Maybe if she shifted the other way—

“That is a pity.” Seteth slowly sat down on her other side, a fishing rod in hand. He cast his line, his eyes on her the entire time. “It will not be much of a contest if there are no entries.”

Leonie resisted the urge to get up and run. What was it with these siblings, pinning her in like this? She felt sandwiched, with no way to escape. “I’m sure someone will manage to catch a good fish or two. Give me an hour, and I’m sure I can wrangle up a few myself.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Flayn clapped her hands. “However, that leaves a different problem. We’ll have all these fishes, and no one to cook them.”

Leonie swallowed. This was starting to sound familiar. “There are plenty of cooks—”

“Leonie has excellent skills,” Seteth suggested, as though he’d just thought of it. “Maybe she could?”

“Really?” Flayn lit up, before flashing her an innocent smile. “Leonie, would you mind?”

She should have just listened to her instincts and run.

-x-

Crest Studies

When Annette joined the academy, she had never seen herself leading a club, or leading anything for that matter. Sure, she would join one or two, but leadership was for the elites, for Dimitri’s and Sylvain’s of the world. Well, maybe not Sylvain exactly, but there were plenty other nobles who could fit the bill. Ferdinand. Lorenz. Hubert.

Yet it was her, not them, standing in front of the Blue Lions classroom, looking at her Crest Studies clubmates. To be perfectly honest, when the other options were the lazy Lindhardt and the shy Marianne, if Annette didn’t take the lead, nothing would get done. Even now, Lindhardt was dozing on his desk while Marianne fidgeted nervously.

Annette bit her cheek. She should have joined the gardening club. Clearing her throat, she announced, “For today’s activity, we’re going to the market.”

“W-what?” Marianne’s eyes grew wide. Sometimes, it looked like she didn’t know why she was in the club. “The market?”

“Why?” Lazily, Lindhardt lifted his head and gave her a baleful glare. “That’s a waste of effort.”

From the teacher’s desk, Professor Hanneman gave her thumbs up. At least someone liked her proposition. Annette quickly refuted, “It’s not.”

“We study crests,” Lindhardt replied languidly. “It’s a waste.”

Something about him always riled her up. She could feel her hackles rising. Stalking toward him, she rested her hands on her hip and bit out. “It’s not. We need to know what people think of crests.”

“Annette’s right.” Hanneman nodded sagely, intervening before an argument started. “It’s important to consider different perspectives when studying a topic.”

“But talking to people…” Marianne gnawed on her lip. “I’m not sure—”

“It’ll be fine.” Annette clasped Marianne’s hands, squeezing them tight. “Besides, we’re going to interview later, so this is good practice.”

Hesitantly, Marianne nodded. “I-I suppose that’s true.”

“Can’t we just interview now and get it over with?” Linhardt interjected, yawning.

Annette pulled Marianne up to her feet. “We’re going to the market,” she stated firmly, refusing to broker any more arguments. “If you want to decide what we’re doing, then you be the club president.”

It was an ultimatum he’d never take, and they both knew it. With a sigh, he got up. “Fine, I suppose there’s some merit to it.”

“Good.” Annette grinned as she gently tugged Marianne toward the door. Finally, she could tell Mercedes that they’d done something other than sit in a classroom. Finally, just like all the other clubs, she was going to go out with her clubmates and do something fun.

Perhaps there was some merit to being club president, after all.

-x-

Battle of the Eagle and Lion

I’d say it is an honour to write about the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but that was before so many of my drafts got mysteriously burned or destroyed because if I happen to make any unflattering comments about Edelgard, I have to start over. Though I would argue they aren’t disparaging, but who am I to argue with her guard dog, Hubert?

So what can I say about the Battle? Well, I guess the obvious—all three of our houses showed what they did best: Edelgard with her strategies, Dimitri with his training, and me with my ‘schemes’. I call them strategies, others call them traps, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Honestly, I didn’t do anything sinister this time around. If a lot of students just happened to get a case of mild food poisoning, well, things happen. Raphael got it too and you don’t hear me complaining about sabotage.

Let’s see, something flattering—ah, I know! It’s actually quite impressive how much Edelgard was able to move despite her illness. Honestly, if someone had poisoned, they’d better know to up the dosage next time. Despite her thinning ranks, she managed to set up her classmates quite skillfully, and Hubert somehow managed to do a lot of damage despite looking like he needed to find the closest toilet.

Of course, Dimitri powered his way through the food poisoning. I think he’s got the strength of a dozen soldiers, or boars as Felix likes to put it. Felix also managed to move, but I think that was purely out of spite. It’s amazing what a motivation spite is. Then again, I think Hubert would know all about that, wouldn’t he?

My house, of course, were the cleverest of the bunch, carefully goading out our enemies and defeating them one by one. Despite losing our strongest member, we rallied around each other and fought back. It was a close fight by all reckoning. And honestly if Edelgard lost (notice I said if, Hubert!), it wouldn’t be all that shameful, considering the handicaps she had.

Now, you might be wondering who actually won? Why it’s (scorched words) of course! Was there ever any doubt?

-x-

Mission Battles

Out of all the school activities she was forced to do, Hilda disliked the missions and mock battles the most. With the others, she could get away with appealing her classmates into helping her, whether it was Marianne in the library or Raphael with the stables or some other poor, hapless soul who crossed her path. As long as it was done, no one was the wiser.

On the battlefield, she wasn’t quite as lucky. No one could protect her the entire time and her charms were entirely wasted on the enemy. It wasn’t like they’d stop fighting her just because she asked.

Or maybe, if she—no, no, it was best to banish that thought. Hilda gripped her axe as she studied the battlefield before her. Just ahead of her was a bandit and unfortunately, there was no ally in sight to protect her. She was going to have to cut this one down herself. “I don’t suppose you’d back down?”

The bandit roared in response, charging at her.

“Step back!” Ferdinand quickly dashed ahead of her, his sword gleaming in the sunlight as he slashed down on her foe. With two quick strikes, the bandit was down and her rescuer looked at her triumphantly over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes! Thanks so much!” Hilda clasped one of his hands and gave him a soft smile. She stood corrected—she could absolutely charm her way through a battle, as long as it was one of those rare cross-house battles.

“No problem.” Ferdinand smiled brightly, before looking over his shoulder at Edelgard. “As you can see, I have struck down another enemy. That brings my count to higher than yours, does it not?”

“We’re in the middle of battle, Ferdinand,” Edelgard warned, axe clenched tightly in her hands. “We’re not competing.”

“Considering how one-sided it is, I could hardly call it a competition.” Ferdinand sniped, trying to pick a fight as usual.

Judging by Edelgard’s weary expression, his taunts still didn’t work. Determining that Hilda was safe enough, Ferdinand once more returned to Edelgard’s side, no doubt challenging her once again. It was impressive how he didn’t give up. A little sad, but impressive.

If he wasn’t going to give up, neither would she. There was bound to be another sucke—noble man willing to lay his life for a damsel in dress. Catching sight of a flash of red, Hilda smiled. “Oh, Sylvain!” she called out, batting her eyes.

Perhaps she could charm her way out of fighting too.

[sinsatmidnight]

The Royal Chest

Pairing - Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

Words - 4159

Sins - Smut, oral, titjob, breast smothering, face-sitting

It’s been a while, but I’m back! This is actually a sequel to A Gift from a Princess (featuring April’s Naeun)! I’ll leave the small talk for another post, but I do have to say that there is a bit of medieval dirty talk that I researched and then used that really ends up maybe feeling a bit more funny than sexy, but I left it in anyway because it amused me, but I hope it doesn’t throw people off. Otherwise, enjoy!

Snowgleam. It’s a beautiful city. A mountaintop city visible from far off if the weather was clear. Spires of polished white marble gleam in the bright sunlight, as you breathe in the cold mountain air, surrounded by snow. The city more than deserves its name.

The journey to Snowgleam took about six days through the treacherous snow-covered mountain passes, and thankfully, you encountered nothing that might have explained why travellers have been disappearing. Perhaps whatever the cause was, it was dissuaded by the sizeable armed escort that guarded the delegation to Snowgleam.

That escort included you, who normally served as personal bodyguard to Princess Lee Naeun as a knight of the court and a member of the Royal Guard. She has entrusted you with a letter to be delivered to a good friend of hers who lives in Snowgleam, Princess Kwon Eunbi, a princess of the neighbouring kingdom.

Princess Kwon Eunbi of Snowgleam is the only child in her family and is being groomed to eventually become queen. Strong of heart, body and mind, and a ravishing beauty, she has many suitors, not unlike Princess Naeun. You’ve met her before, as she’s visited Princess Naeun in the past. 

You remember long black hair, thick red lips, a long and sharp nose, large piercing eyes of grey and skin that was fair and smooth. Most of all, you remember her figure, strong arms, powerful thighs and calves, a slender waist, and an exceptionally large chest.

You walk through smooth stone roads that wind toward the largest building in Snowgleam, the Zenith Spires. A collection of turrets and spires that go higher than any of the others in the city, made of white stone. The destination of your delegation and the home of Princess Eunbi and the rest of her family.

As your delegation arrives safely, you leave the diplomats to go about their business as servants help with your belongings and usher those of you not needed towards a set of rooms reserved for guests. You spend some time stripping off your armour and changing into a fresh set of clothing, a pairing of a silken shirt and pants, before picking up the scroll case containing Princess Naeun’s letter and going to find Princess Eunbi.

You know your way around as you’ve been to the Zenith Spires before a couple times, accompanying Princess Naeun on visits here. After asking a couple of guards, you find out that Princess Eunbi is in her chambers, so you make your way there with letter in hand.

A large door of heavy wood serves as the entrance to her quarters. You pick up the large brass knocker and bring it down upon the wood three times.

“Come in.”

You push the heavy door open and enter, whereupon it slowly shuts by itself behind you. The chamber before you is a dark contrast to most of Snowgleam, with walls of black and a large four-four poster bed of dark red. Large closed glass windows that provide natural illumination to the chamber, sunlight currently shining through them. There is a glass door to the side that leads to a balcony that commands an impressive view over the city and the mountain. Most of the furniture is made of dark wood, all dark brown or black. A velvety carpet of blood red muffles your footsteps somewhat as you take a few steps forward and bow to the princess, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Princess Eunbi wears a resplendent sleeveless golden dress that hugs her figure, with a long slit at the bottom that reveals her smooth and strong legs. The dress reveals a bit of cleavage, just enough to show it off, but not enough to make one feel scandalised in the royal court. Pearls and diamonds adorn her earrings. She currently isn’t wearing any footwear and a tall tiara of diamonds and white crystal rests upon her head.

Eunbi looks up at you, and you bow deeply before her. You try to keep your eyes away from her cleavage when bowing, given that you’re taller and she’s also sitting down.

“Ah, you’re Naeun’s bodyguard, are you not? I believe we last met when I visited her this spring. The delegation must have arrived safely then.”

“Greetings, Princess Eunbi. You are correct, my lady. I bring a letter from Princess Naeun to you.”

“Bring it forth then.”

Rising from your bow, you step forward and proffer the scroll case containing the letter to the princess. Eunbi plucks it from your hands and opens it up, pulling out the parchment within to read the letter immediately.

You wait patiently as the letter is read, standing by in case there is a message or letter that you need to convey back to Princess Naeun. You watch her smile and chuckle to herself as she reads.

Eventually, she rolls the paper back up and getting up to her feet, keeps the letter in a drawer in a side table. Eunbi then looks up at you, a mysterious smile upon her lips.

“Thank you for waiting. Did Naeun tell you what she wrote about in her letter?”

“No, my lady. The princess did not.” Eunbi’s smile widens.

Eunbi walks over back to you, stopping right in front of you. “Well, Naeun wrote to me about her experience having a secret tryst with a bodyguard of hers.” Eunbi stares pointedly at you. “And she also requests of me to partake of this bodyguard, and to send her my informed opinion on the worth and value of his performance and prowess.”

You try not to give away anything on your face, although you are incredibly surprised to hear the contents of the letter. “And she also mentioned that you are the aforementioned bodyguard.” Eunbi adds.

Well, no denying it now then.

“That is true, my lady, although I did not expect for the princess to write to you about that.”

“Naeun and I are close…in the same way that Naeun and her handmaiden Chaekyung are close. When we visit each other…we also take some time to explore each other’s bodies.” Eunbi tales a step toward you at this point, looking up at you and resting a hand on your chest.

“Now, about Naeun’s request. I’m quite happy to fulfil it, but seeing as you were given no instructions or orders in this regard and I don’t want to be an inhospitable host in my home, I would ask if you would be willing to join me in fulfilling her request?”

You are here to deliver a letter and are definitely not expecting to be asked to sleep with the princess of Snowgleam while the rest of your cohorts are off discussing diplomatic matters with Snowgleam’s king and his court.

That said, Princess Eunbi is a beautiful and comely woman. And this is apparently the will of your princess too. “It would be a most humbling honour, Princess Eunbi.”

Eunbi’s gaze changes and she licks her lips seductively. “Oh, I’m sure it is. Not just any man can sleep with the future queen of Snowgleam. No one should hear us as long as we don’t start screaming. The walls of my chamber are quite thick and I don’t have guards outside. Oh, I do have one more condition. You don’t tell anyone of this, just as you’ve presumably not told anyone of your own encounter with Naeun.”

You bow your head slightly. “You have my word, Princess Eunbi.”

Eunbi presses her body up against yours, her chest pushing against yours while a hand reaches up and grabs your head. You feel blood start to rush down below.

“I don’t just want your word. I want your lips.”

With her hand on the back of your head, Eunbi pulls you down into a kiss, her tongue forcing its way quickly into your mouth. You decide to reciprocate and kiss her passionately as well, your tongue entwining and wrestling with hers.

Eunbi’s hand on your chest slides down the silken shirt you wear and settles over the bulge forming in your pants, slowly rubbing against it. You slide one hand down to the slit in her dress, rubbing her thigh at first before inching inward and slipping inside her dress. The other hand wraps around Eunbi’s waist, bringing her in closer to you.

Your hand in her dress seeks out her core, and you feel it dripping; she wears no underwear under her dress. As the two of you push back and forth against each other with your tongues, you start to run a finger along her lower lips, collecting everything that is dripping out and moistening your finger.

Eunbi shivers against you, and not to be outdone, has your belt undone in seconds, sending your pants and belt both tumbling onto the floor. Her warm fingers wrap around your throbbing shaft, slowly stroking it. You retaliate, slowly sliding your finger inside of her. The two of you both moan into each other’s mouths as you slowly make out like this.

Eunbi eventually breaks the kiss for breath. “Not bad at all.” She grins at you playfully. “You see, my people are born and raised on a mountain city. The air is thinner here and we develop a lot of stamina as a result of needing to compensate for less air. Which explains why the thing I prize most of all when with a man, is stamina. Let’s test you out, see how long you last so I can give my opinion to Naeun.”

The princess gestures to her bed. “Sit.”

You remove your hand from inside Eunbi’s dress before turning, stepping out of your clothing, and obediently taking a seat at the edge of her bed. By the time you sit down and face her again, Eunbi’s dress is already on the floor and she casually kicks it aside. Her tiara is unceremoniously pulled from her hair and thrown onto the bed, against the pillows.

You look upon Eunbi’s naked body, slender but powerful muscles in her arms and legs, and also slim around the waist and heavy around the chest. Eunbi’s abdomen is very toned. She is as fit and strong as any knight you know, and you’re not surprised. In addition to being a princess, she also is a captain in the Snowgleam military. Your hardened dick throbs for her.

“Princess Eunbi-”

“Just Eunbi, you don’t need to address me by Princess if you’re naked with me. It feels odd.”

“Eunbi, I was going to say that from the way you kiss, it’s clear that I’m not the first man you’ve been naked with?”

Eunbi chuckles as she gets on her knees in front of you. “Naeun isn’t the only one who’s had secret trysts with bodyguards. Well, mine aren’t always with bodyguards, but you get the gist of it.”

You watch as Eunbi wraps a hand around the base of your shaft and starts to stroke. “Now, let’s partake of you, and see how you taste.” Her large grey eyes stare into yours as her pink tongue flicks over the tip of your cock, licking up the pre-cum that has formed there.

“Mmm…this looks so good. I want to bagpipe you.”

You groan softly in appreciation at the feeling of her wet and warm tongue first sliding along the slit of your penis and then an encompassing feeling of wet warmth surrounds your cock as she takes the tip of it into her mouth and starts to suck on it.

Her head starts to bob up and down on your cock and unlike Naeun, Eunbi is a lot more experienced with men. You soon feel the effects of that as she deftly takes your length deep into her throat with ease. No gagging and choking, just the tightness of her throat as she swallows around your length while her large eyes peer up at you.

You notice that Eunbi has a hand down below, fingering herself and moaning and whimpering pleasurably into your cock even as she sucks on you. A little hesitantly, you place a hand on Eunbi’s head and pull ever so gently upward on her hair, urging her to come up for air. It’s your turn to give her some attention; and you really don’t want to shoot your load so soon, with how hot and tight her blowjob is.

“Let me bring pleasure to you.”

Eunbi nods and licks your tip one final time. “I could never say no to a request like that.”

You grab Eunbi by the shoulders and help her up, before having her lie on the bed next to you. You clamber up on top of her and direct your attention to her lovely breasts, roughly squeezing one large, firm breast and sucking on the sensitive stiffened nipple of the other. Eunbi whimpers and mewls, her nails digging into your shoulder and the back of your head.

“More…” She pants as her hand on the back of your head pushes strongly down, pressing your face into her chest. The perfumed scent of her body mixed with the taste of light fresh sweat on her tits is a heady mix.

Eunbi suddenly grabs tightly onto you, her fingers digging into your skin and her legs clenching against your sides, and then she rolls you underneath her. Eunbi’s breasts completely fill your vision and senses as your face is engulfed and pressed beneath her boobs. They are soft, firm, and fair, just the way you like them. Eunbi puts the considerable weight of her chest fully onto you, smothering you with them. Her strong arms push down on your chest, preventing you from rising.

Your face is fully buried in Eunbi’s large and soft tits, and all you see is warm flesh. Eunbi’s soft moaning encourages you to keep licking and kissing between her cleavage, even though your breathing is somewhat restricted.

You manage to bring one hand up to Eunbi’s face and you slip a couple of fingers into her warm mouth, where she licks and sucks on them with gusto. Once you deem them wet enough, you retract them and use them to tease her lower lips, with your fingers slowly stroking around the outside of her pussy, just on the edge.

Your other hand continues to play with her nipples, squeezing and fondling the breasts that have trapped your face, drawing noises of satisfaction from Eunbi.

You lick her chest and tweak her nipples as her hips buck downward, eager for more of your touch. You oblige, sending your wet fingers sliding inside her, making her writhe above you. And then you stop, drawing a whine from the princess. As comfortable as this position is for you, it doesn’t let you pleasure her the best.

“I love your breasts, but let’s change positions.” Your voice comes out muffled from under Eunbi’s breasts.

There is a slight pause. “Okay, fine.” And Eunbi lifts her chest off your face, only to quickly scoot her hips forward and plant her slit right on top of your mouth. Her strong, creamy, thighs lock around your head and her hips grinding down on you.

You were hoping for a position easier to breathe in but taking in the scent of her royal pussy isn’t a bad alternative. Your tongue slips inside Eunbi’s folds and she grabs your head with a hand and pushes her hips down hard. Her hips gyrate as you fuck her with your tongue, tasting her delicious juices spilling into your mouth.

“Taste me…” Eunbi whines breathlessly. You look up at her beautiful face even as you lick and suck on her pussy; eyes closed, lower lip being bitten, cheeks flush, and the expression of pleasurable agony on her face all help to keep you rock hard throughout this.

Your hands reach up and squeeze her ample ass, pulling her grinding hips closer, pushing your tongue deeper into her. Eunbi’s breathing becomes heavy and ragged, and you only hear panting, gasping and soft groans passing from her lips.

While still underneath Eunbi, your hands shift, moving from her ass to hold onto her powerful thighs and then grabbing tightly, you flip her onto the bed, changing positions again. This time, you get to use your hands to assist your mouth. With Eunbi lying beneath you, you attack her swollen clit with your tongue, licking and sucking roughly, while you pump into her pussy with several fingers. Eunbi’s thighs still haven’t lost their grip on your head; she’s a strong woman. Instead, Eunbi wraps her legs around your head, her calves locking in around the back of your head. Your head is happily trapped around the vice-like grip of Eunbi’s legs.

“Yes…yes...yes…” Eunbi quietly repeats the word over and over as your fingers quest and coil and thrust inside her and your mouth is locked in a French kiss with her clit. The grip Eunbi has on your head tightens somehow, almost painful as her body quivers, and then she climaxes hard in a silent scream, pushing her hips furiously against your head, grinding and gyrating until she lies relatively still.

You keep licking and slurping up the nectar that flows forth, causing Eunbi to whimper and shudder still. Eunbi’s legs finally relax their grip on you and she lets them fall to the side, releasing your head. Her hands then immediately take over and pull your head up to hers, her lips then catching yours in a deep kiss.

When your lips part, Eunbi purrs contentedly as she idly strokes your cock.

“I taste good. I did like your taste as well.”

Eunbi kisses you again for emphasis, and as her tongue explores your mouth, her hands grab your shoulders and the two of you reverse positions again. Eunbi moves to position herself above your cock that has been craving for more attention for a while now.

“Look at you, you’re still hard.”

“Whenever you need me to be.”

“I have to say, I’m starting to envy Naeun a little.” Eunbi then sinks down, taking your entire length inside her to the hilt. You slide in easily from how wet she is, but she’s also still very tight around your cock.

“So deep…” She exhales. You watch as Eunbi starts to ride you, her breasts bouncing along to the rhythm of her hips thrusting down on you.

“Need a hand?” Without waiting for a reply, you reach out with both hands and cup Eunbi’s beautiful breasts, squeezing them as she fucks herself upon you. Eunbi groans at first but then grins impishly. “I have a better idea.”

Without missing a beat, Eunbi reaches down and pulls you up into a sitting position before using one hand to grab your head and force it between her cleavage. You actually can’t really breathe at all this time as Eunbi smothers you with her breasts, but it turns you on so much as you start to thrust upward into Eunbi, matching her downward rhythm.

Eunbi lets you go after a short while to help you catch your breath, and you keep your head at the same level and start to frantically suck on the nipples in front of you, taking them in your mouth one at a time and devouring them. Eunbi whimpers in response; you know how sensitive her nipples are to her. One of your hands starts to rub her clit, increasing Eunbi’s pleasure.

“I’m going to-“ Eunbi doesn’t finish her sentence as she cries out loud and throws her head back while in orgasm, her hands grab your head and force your face into her tits again, enveloping you as she cums all over your cock. Between the contractions of her pussy muscles on your cock and the breast smothering, you feel yourself getting close too.

Eunbi only releases you when she has calmed down a little, pulling your mouth off her chest and pulling you into a passionate kiss. “I see you do have quite a bit of stamina.” Eunbi remarks when she finally gets off you, revealing your cock still hard and throbbing, totally drenched from Eunbi’s orgasm. “Let’s finish this up, shall we?

The princess pulls you over to the edge of the bed and kneels on the carpeted floor in front of you. Pushing her breasts together, Eunbi has them surround your cock, sandwiching them between two soft but firm orbs of flesh.

She starts to shift her heavy breasts up and down, forming a pleasurable friction and rhythm as she pumps your cock with only her boobs. Eunbi doesn’t need lubrication for this, given that your cock is covered in her juices from the orgasm she just had and thus still very wet.

“One talent that I discovered that I had after joining the military, was that I’m really particularly good at spear polishing. All of it. The tip, the shaft.” Eunbi teases as she licks her lips, her eyes locked onto yours.

“I can tell.” You manage to get out as your hips thrust into Eunbi’s breasts, unable to keep still. Eunbi lowers her head and starts to lick her juices off the tip of your cock.

“Mmm…give me your cream, spray it all over me. Treat me like a filthy common street whore.” You didn’t know that a princess and future queen could speak like that. Princess Naeun would never speak like that.

At Eunbi’s dirty urging, you increase the speed of your thrusting, eventually fucking Eunbi’s cleavage and mouth at the same time, as she wraps her lips around the head of your dick and sucks. The sound of slurping fills the air. 

“Go on, you dirty harlot, take it all.” Your hands reach up somewhat hesitantly and hold her head through her hair and when you feel yourself hit the edge and go over, you pull her head back and off.

The first spray decorates her outstretched neck, the second shoots higher, splattering across her chin and lower jaw, the third forms droplets of white all over her chest. Eunbi continues to stroke you with her breasts throughout all of this. You feel one last spurt coming, and Eunbi brings her mouth down to swallow it all. You take advantage of this opportunity to thrust into her mouth a few times as you come down from your climax.

Eunbi thoroughly cleans your cock with her mouth, licking and sucking all over your sensitive length. A knock on the door interrupts her, a male voice comes calling, probably a guard or a courtier. “Princess Eunbi, your father requests your presence in the throne room whenever you are predisposed to come. He would like to speak with you regarding the diplomatic delegation that arrived earlier.”

She pulls her mouth off your cock to answer. “Tell Father that I’ll be there soon, you may leave first.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Eunbi turns back to you. “How many nights are you staying here for?”

“Two, weather permitting.”

“Good, that’s two more nights with you. A good first impression, but I need to sample you for longer to really give Naeun a detailed opinion.”

You chuckle. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever call me a whore or a harlot outside of this room or I will order your execution.” Eunbi smiles and jokes as she walks over to a nearby standing metal washbasin to wash her face and neck. You admire Eunbi’s naked form again, watching her butt move from side to side as she walks, her back turned to you.

“I would never.” You get up from sitting on the bed, and walk over to where Eunbi stands, washing herself.

“I’m thinking of maybe going back with you, I haven’t visited Naeun in a while. Maybe the three of us can spend some time together.”

You wrap your arms around Eunbi’s waist and whisper suggestively into her ear as she wipes down her face with a towel. “That’s an excellent idea. Imagine the things we could do together, the three of us. The two of you and your wonderful royal chests sound like an excellent time.”

You dip your hands into the cold water in the washbasin and then bring both hands up to her chest, cupping her breasts from behind. “You have to wash these too.” You breathe heavily into Eunbi’s ear. Eunbi lets out a soft moan, her body shivering as you squeeze her breasts gently, and she feels your cock start to stiffen against her ass. You bring one hand down to gently rub against her pussy lips. “And down here too.”

As you kiss Eunbi on her ear and the nape of her neck, your cock rubbing against her pussy, she murmurs softly in pleasure. “I guess Father will have to wait for a little longer.”

The king of Snowgleam doesn’t see his daughter for another two hours. And you are looking forward to a busy two days (and nights).

[mythicamagic]

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!”

AN: ...yeah so I'll post part five in a few hours and THAT will be the ending to this Ex Sesshoumaru saga. Smh. I wrote too much of this. Read the other chapters - here.

----

She can't recall how it started.

It wasn't as though either of them had woken up one day and decided to pursue something. They'd become 'companions' of sorts- not quite friends, not casual acquaintances either. Kagome spoke with him while sitting on the grassy hillside, wearing full miko garb and explaining about future technologies.

Talking turned into meeting up regularly. Meetups turned into secret rendezvous.

Kagome wagered she'd been a source of intrigue for the demon lord. A window into the future. He listened with rapt attention and intelligent, sharp eyes. His questions were short and to the point- humour dark and smirking. Kagome found him endearing, in an irritatingly proud kind of way.

She learned about demon culture and his shining, unblemished heritage. How his ancestors had created magnificent weapons that could cut through stormy skies and block out the sun.

Kagome really couldn't say how it started.

He still hadn't been keen on humans, deeming them weak. A few were the exception to the rule. Kagome had figured that was enough. To be counted amongst those few meant she was 'special.'

She felt special, kissing him. Being loved by him made Kagome glow golden, radiating power and contentment. He encouraged her to train, to build up her reiki to new heights so that she might shock and amaze like no other miko before her. To go beyond the title of 'Shikon Miko.'

But centuries of bigotry didn't just 'go away' overnight, nor was it cured by love. He still thought of humans as beneath him. He loved her despite her humanity, not because of it.

In hindsight, Kagome shouldn't have been surprised by his reaction to her hypothetical question.

"If we ever have kids, do you think they'll be recognised as heirs?"

"What?"

Kagome shifted atop a pillow within his room at the Western Stronghold, setting down her book. "I'm just saying, I know your court is still pretty old school with how they feel about Hanyous. Think it'll impact our kids being able to take over the Western Lands?"

What a naive question. She'd been so wrapped up in how he made her feel- Kagome hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that he hadn't changed enough. Not enough for such a question. She'd asked hoping to be assured. That he'd comfort her with the knowledge that any children they had would be respected.

They wouldn't end up like Inuyasha. Ignored. Cast out.

Sesshoumaru had looked at her with such a perplexed, complicated expression. He spoke slowly, as though breaking the news to a child.

"A Hanyou will never rule the Western lands."

The surprise had set in- like she recognised the handle of the knife buried into her gut, but the pain hadn't registered yet. She'd questioned him, of course. His explanation wasn't any more encouraging.

"Hanyous only live a few centuries. I cannot entrust something as important as the longevity of these lands to one, nor can I guarantee they would mate a demon to extend their lifespan."

"Why don't you just say what you mean?" she uttered coldly, betrayal simmering in her blood as she stood. "You don't want one. You don't want an imperfect kid with me."

"That is not what I-"

"You don't have to say it," Kagome glared. "It's there, behind every word you just said. When were you gonna clue me in on this, huh? And what the hell is your plan?- because if you intended to keep me as a fucking mistress all this time while you play happy families with a pure-blooded bitch then-"

"No-" he snarled, terrible and thundering. Sesshoumaru got in her face, large hands curling in her hair, thumbs stroking the shells of her ears, trying to soothe. "I would not have you be Izayoi. You would be my mate. I would make you my Lady. We may have pups."

"That's very considerate of you," she sneered, flashing blunt teeth. "And where's this pure-blooded youkai kid coming from, hm? Because I sure as hell can't give you one."

Golden eyes slid away. It was as though a part of him knew, recognised that his duty would put him at odds with what they'd created together. He looked young, suddenly.

"I will create an heir with an inconsequential demoness."

"Inconsequential?" Kagome stared, hysteria bubbling up inside her. She broke away from him, his touch feeling unwanted, cold. "You'd use some poor woman just for that?"

"You are attributing human emotion to this," Sesshoumaru uttered, gaze flicking back to her. "She would be honoured by it. Her family would want for nothing-"

"Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!" Kagome burst, tears blurring her vision. "Can't you hear yourself? You'd still have to sleep with her, with a stranger. She'd carry your child for months, only to be torn away from them? Or would she live here? Would I have to see her every damn day and know- be reminded that I and my child weren't enough for you?!" her voice broke, a wave of emotion slamming her in the gut, only just registering and truly feeling the implications of her words.

His expression cracked, eyes widening, recognising he'd hurt her. Long claws unfurled.

"Kagome-"

"No! No, I'm done," Kagome backed away.

Years of sadness and mistrust loomed over their relationship suddenly, where before there had only been lazy mornings or evenings spent resting her head on his thigh, listening to long claws plucking the strings of a koto and inhaling rich, spicy scents of smoke from an ornate pipe.

"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me," blue eyes swimming with tears glared. "Thank you for clarifying everything, Lord Sesshoumaru. I just wish you'd told me this two years ago."

He tried to touch her again- only for the miko to slap his attempt away with a crackling hiss of holy energy. Sesshoumaru was forced back, his hand steaming, narrowly avoiding being burned as Kagome backed away.

She'd never seen the look of pure, unadulterated surprise and distress contort his regal features before. But Sesshoumaru was proud. Sesshoumaru was a being carved from stone, who could not be moved by the words of a mere mortal.

He let her go.

Kagome didn't so much as grab her bag. She hitched a ride on Ah Un and made for Kaede's village. It wasn't long before she'd said her goodbyes, propelled by distress and anger into a hasty decision.

She jumped through the well, never to return.

It was a terrible, disappointing end to her feudal fairytale.

---

Rising slowly, Kagome blinked tired lids open, coming to a silent conclusion in the cold light of day. Picking up the phone, she called Natsuki and scheduled a meetup.

Promptly breaking up with him.

He didn't seem terribly shocked by the news.

"So… are you going to him after this?" He asked point-blank.

"What?"

"That silver inuyoukai I sensed on you last week. Figured you had something else going on."

Stiffness rendered her shoulders tense. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "for making you feel that way. I'm not going to him, but I have been thinking about him."

"Heh, you've been thinking about him but not going? Sounds difficult."

"It is," she smiled, reaching over the table and squeezing his fingers. "Goodbye, Natsuki."

The way he'd eyed her hand, just for a moment- warily- as though wondering for half a second if she'd taken her pills, only strengthened Kagome's resolve.

She knew what she wanted now.

---

Dressing up that night, she wore her best things. The nicest pair of earrings, shoes, right down to her dress and underwear. She did everything to allow herself to relax, soaking in a tub with candles littered around the edge beforehand.

Glancing at her pills on the nightstand, Kagome grabbed her purse before leaving, having not taken them all day. The effects should've worn off by now. Walking down the stairs, she experimented with a light flex- pink static racing over her skin in a faint crackle.

Dark hair fanned out, soon settling about her shoulders. Kagome took a long, indrawn breath. Life flowed through her veins. Her heart pumped, alive, healthy. Too long had she soaked herself in misery and settled for any half-decent demon cock willing to tolerate her power. Her species.

No more.

Kagome headed straight for the youkai bar.

She slipped in, a known regular by now. Unlike usual though, after grabbing a drink she didn't content herself by sitting at the bar until a tall dark and handsome stranger approached her. Kagome downed it to ignite a fire in her throat, hissing quietly and setting down her glass before easing around grinding bodies on the dance floor.

Standing in the centre, with speakers booming, vibrations thrumming through her- multicoloured lights flashing overhead in the much too dark room, with sweat and youki plastering to the air like heady vapour, Kagome took a breath. Beefy hands met her waist, intending to 'dance' with her - before she let reiki flow.

Younger demons immediately backed off, spooked by the mere suggestion of power. The hands left her body as she met their gazes. If they wanted to touch her, they'd have to reach her.

Dark eyes turned to the miko, intrigued. Some started to approach, but she gradually turned the facet of her holy powers higher. Bigger, more arrogant males kept moving closer. They could match her, tame her. She was just a priestess, after all. They hadn't been anything substantial in centuries.

Kagome held her head high on the half-empty dance floor, pink energy now static and visible, racing over her body like a live wire. And still more poured into her aura, seeping out like a huge barrier. She wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

Even the bravest stopped, all demons now pressed back against far walls, snarling at her, some evacuating the bar.

Kagome's heart shuddered. Her shoulders fell. All that, and she still hadn't let everything out. Maybe she was supposed to make herself smaller. Maintain the air of an unassuming priestess by a big strong demon's side. Settle. Accept it. What had she been expecting?

Feeling foolish and a little selfish for spoiling everyone's night, Kagome stepped back with the intent of recalling her energy.

A palm met the pink barrier, a sharp sound ringing out like the crack of lightning. Youki -familiar, dominating, unique- crashed against her aura, creating a plume of sweeping mists. Through the pink haze, Sesshoumaru stepped forward.

Unlike his usual modern look, the glamour was absent this time.

Kagome's eyes widened, oxygen briefly freezing inside her lungs. His markings were on full display. Seeing him again, really seeing him, awakened a strange feeling inside her.

Kagome grit blunt teeth, refusing to soften. She allowed another wave of her reiki out, creating a blazing inferno that licked along the wooden floors and sent every other demon fleeing.

Golden eyes narrowed slightly, but Sesshoumaru kept his palm raised, long hair whipping around him.

As reiki slid through the gaps of his fingers, he took a step closer. Followed by another. Red youki buffered its natural opposite, creating sparks and wafts of charged steam. He walked around the room, slowly tightening the circle around her like a predator closing in, though not without effort.

Kagome had never felt anything like it. She'd never let so much loose before. She could even keep going, she could-

Sesshoumaru's hand closed over her wrist, eyes hazed red. He panted, face lingering close. "Enough. I can withstand you, dear one," he said in a rush, light burns dotting his cheek and forehead. "But those outside cannot. You could obliterate every demon within a 5-mile radius if you wished, but I know you do not want that."

Kagome blinked, shaken. Catching her breath suddenly, she trembled, holding onto him.

His presence stabilised something, allowing Kagome to slowly begin reeling blistering power back. Her body weakened, forehead finding his shoulder as pink power receded back inside. Wild youki died down not long after.

And that was how Kagome Higurashi was barred from the only youkai establishment in the city.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 12

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Lila’s starting to fall, amazing what saving your classmates lives can do for their opinion of you

First < Previous > Next

------

Marinette furiously scrunches up another failed sketch. Using her non dominant hand to start another design. It's a good thing she doesn't have any upcoming commissions because of the tour. Even so the distraction, no matter how infuriating, beats watching Marion's ragged breaths.

Tikki is resting on his chest, something they had learnt helps them heal faster. This meant that Plagg was forced to sulk in the corner. Pretending to enjoy the cheese, sneaking worried looks at his holder.

“Marinette look!” Tikki squeaks, as she throws another sketch away.

Marion eyelids start to flutter, Marinette leans over him, sketchbook hitting the ground. He opens his eyes and groans before rolling to his side, followed by a hiss of pain.

“Stay still you stupid cat!” Marinette gently but firmly forces him to sit back.

“Not stupid,” Marion sleepily slurs, sinking into the hospital bed.

“Reckless then,” Marinette schools the smile off her face as Plagg zips over to him.

“No I’m not,” He glares with sudden clarity, “Day?”

She rolls her eyes standing to open the curtains.

“Why yes it is,” Marinette smirks as he cringes at the light.

“What day?” His cringe turns back to a glare, completely unintimidating with the small Kwami curled against him.

“Don’t worry, they put you under for the night, for your system to work out all the fear toxin,” Marinette closes the curtains slightly, coming to sit on the chair next to him.

“Akuma?” Marion tries to bring his hands up to pet Plagg,

“Nope, I finally got some rest without you,” Plagg huffs, not moving away from Marion's touch.

“Arm?” Marion turns to Marinette, still smothering Plagg.

“Fine, it’s probably mostly healed, clean break,” That was probably stretching it, but it doesn't make much difference.

“Scarecrow?” Marion's expression turns dark.

“Prison,” Marinette probably mirrors his expression.

“... anything else I need to know?” He asks, shifting a little higher.

“Still and idiot,” Marinette picks her sketchbook back up, smoothing out the pages.

“Well it's great to see you accepting your-”

“Marion! You're awake!” Aunt Selina is standing in the doorway, she covers the distance in the blink of an eye. Almost as fast as their Kwami’s manage to hide.

“-fault,” Marion glares over their Aunts shoulder at Marinette.

“What was that?” Selina leans back, a slight smirk.

“Nothing,” Marion doesn’t stop giving the stink eye.

“Are you ok?” Their Aunt asks, checking Marion over.

“Yeah I feel fine,” Marion pushes her away gently, but it’s enough for her to lean back. Looking over him with a more cool expression.

“Hmm… I suppose bullet proof armour under your clothes would lessen the damage,” She says casually.

“Well yeah obvious-” Marion starts, stopping as they both realise at the same time;

“It’s a fashion statement!”

“This is Gotham?”

Their Aunt raises a brow. Their panic, wide eyes and wild gestures obviously painting the picture of innocence.

“Alright then, I won't press, already told the doctors your parents are just paranoid,” She leans back on her arms propping her up on Marion’s bed.

“Maman! Papa! Are they-”

“It’s fine, I called them,” Selina holds up a hand to calm his outburst, “Convinced them not to ship you back to Paris, told them they had nothing to worry about,”

“Unfortunately that is a lie,” Bruce Wayne walks in, a pensive frown aimed at his fiance's casual shrug.

“Hello Mr Wayne,” Marinette greets formally, standing.

“Bruce, please, how are you two feeling?” He gestures Marinette to sit back down, standing by her chair.

“A-ok” Marion gives the thumbs up, far too quickly for someone with broken ribs, “Ow,”

“Don’t worry I checked with the doctors there's no brain damage this is just unfortunately how he usually is,” Marinette deadpans, hoping to ease his worry.

“I must apologise, I didn’t expect these rumours to get so out of hand,” Bruce's expression is twisted with guilt, as Marion slowly brings his arms back down.

“It’s not your fault, kind of strange they took that risk for a rumour,” Marion shrugs, not unlike how their Aunt did, who is now forcing him to lie back down.

“Not really considering you basically confirmed it,” Marinette rolls her eyes.

“I did no such thing,” Marion gasps dramatically as if she insulted his very honour. Something, in her opinion, he gave up a long time ago to make puns.

“Here,” Marinette brings out her phone, pulling up a clip from the previous morning. Fast forwarding to the part where Marion tells the camera; “Bruce Wayne is our Father,”

“Oh,” Marion blinks at the screen a few times before turning to Bruce, “I’d like the record to state that was taken out of context,”

“Doesn’t matter to the press, their vultures, the attack is all they care to talk about,” Aunt Selina spits venomously, eyes honing in on Marinette's cast.

“I’ve held off on making an official statement without your approval,” Bruce informs, undercurrents of anger almost undetectable, “If you’d like I can organise our lawyers to come visit you here,”

“Thank you, that would be great,” Marinette beams, taking him aback, “Or um, not great, but-uh… appreciated- yeah that,”

“I’ll send them over whenever suits you,” Bruce gives a slight smile back, making hers beam brighter.

“Thanks, wait a minute- how long am I going to be in the hospital!” Marion whips around to Marinette.

“Hopefully long enough to stay out of trouble,” Selina ruffles his hair, not that it makes much difference at this point.

“My whole life!?” Marion shouts, only half joking.

“Not if you don’t keep running into dangerous situations,” Selina retorts, booping his nose.

“Technically this one came running at me,” Marion grouches, entering a staring contest with their Aunt.

“Ah-ha,” She mocks, meeting his challenge, as always, winning.

“Sooo- what's everyone been doing,” Marion turns to Marinette, eyes only slightly watery.

“I basically had to push Kagami out of the hospital this morning to go on todays tour,” Marinette smiles, willing to give Marion this out, “Chloe texted me a bit ago saying they were heading here,”

“They’re going to kill me for almost getting killed, aren't they,” Marion whines, Marinette is sure he catches Bruce’s flinch.

“Yep,”

“Make sure my gravestone says ‘living it up’,” Marion says as seriously as, well, death.

“I’d rather throw your body in the river,” Marinette inspects her nails, leaning back in her seat.

“If I go missing tell Batman she's the primes suspect,” Marion turns to their Aunt, not learning his lesson, and pointing at Marinette with a hiss of pain.

“I will,” Selina chuckles, and Marinette swears she sees Bruce's lips quirk.

“Mari!” Chloe runs through the door in a blonde blur, which splits, and oh that's Adrien. Both basically tackle Marion.

“Ow! No! That is the opposite of making me feel better,” Marion curses, both latching on either side.

“Deal with it I saved your ass,” Chloe snaps, Marinette sees her grip loosen slightly.

“I thought that was Kagami?” Marion looks over at her, Kagami was standing inside the room, behind her waiting at the door stood the rest of the class, “Or at least a Yokai that looked like her,”

“Pssh, I helped too, I was Queen Bee after all,” Chloe sits up, flicking her hair out.

“Yeah with the train-” Marinette begins.

“Enough about the train!” Chloe explodes, releasing Marion.

“I think this is our cue to leave,” Their Aunt stands, leaning over Marion and giving his forehead kiss, “I love you two so much, be good my little adorable munchkins! I’ll be back later”

“I wuv you sooooo much too Aunty,” Marion teases her right back in an overly cutesy voice.

“You’re no fun,” She sighs, smirk still firmly in place, “See ya,”

She and Bruce walk out the door, class making way for them.

“You are sure you are quite alright,” Kagami comes to stand by the head of the bed, opposite side to Marinette.

“Yes Kags I’m fine,” Marion smiles brightly, still being smothered by Adrien.

“Good,” She hits him over the head, making him yelp, “That was well deserved,”

“Yeah, probably,” Marion grumbles, hand instinctively raising to his head, followed by a grimace.

“Come on Kagami he’s already been hurt enough,” Adrien frets over Marion, letting him go.

“Thank you Adrien! My one true friend! In my time of need, you're always there for me!” Marion bring his arms around Adrien, smothering the other.

“I fought Scarecrow for you!” Chloe roars, Adrien not trying to get free from Marion.

“Adrien was moral support,” Marion pouts, hugging him closer.

“You’re impossible,” Chloe throws her hands up, falling back on the bed.

“Why thank you,” Marion does a mock bow as much as he is able.

Someone clears their throat, Marinette looking over at the door. The rest of the class were still standing at the door. Alix holding up a bag of chips, awkwardly waving. Everyone else also holding some sort of snack, minus Lila. Marinette glances at Marion, who just shrugs, releasing Adrien.

“You can come in, but it might be a bit squished,” Marinette smiles amicably.

“That's fine, dude,” Nino smiles back, ushering the class inside.

The class all take their seats, most having to perch on armrests or the edge of the bed. Each dropping snacks at the foot of it.

“I meant what I said and won't take it back, we aren’t friends,” Marion fixes those in the class that apply with a stern look.

Marinette could tell he wasn't angry, but a few snacks was not enough to mend the bridges burnt. Marion won’t let them forget that. The class shifts awkwardly, sharing glances. What do you say to that?

“Then why did you protect us?” Kim speaks up, apparently that.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Marion fixes them with an intense gaze, making it clear he meant every word. Alix clears her throat.

“Well then this is a meeting as a class, and a thanks for saving our butts, both of you,” Alix gives a smile from her perch on the bed railing.

“Alright then,” Marion says seriously, before taking on a joking tone, “Mostly cause I just realised I haven't eaten anything since that horrible cereal yesterday,”

“Hey!” Adrien exclaims, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Marion, Chloe squeezed in on Marion's other side. Both leaning off the edge slightly to not put pressure on his ribs.

“Sorry Adrien, but your taste buds have the intelligence of a two year old mistaking pure sugar as an actually good taste,” Marion sneers, as if he can still taste it.

“You’re a bakery snob, you know that?” Adrien grumbles, crossing his arms and sinking down further.

“Sure do,” Marion teases, the rest of the class shifting uncomfortably.

Marinette had to guess they didn’t realise just how far they had drifted apart, the divide now startlingly clear.

“Well hopefully these please your majesties pallet,” Nathaniel tries to break into the banter.

Marion playfully sneers down at the pile, getting a few giggles. Alix starts throwing snacks to everyone. Giving Marinette a bag of cookies, she can’t help but smile, especially at Marion's downright insulted look as he’s passed a wheel of camembert.

“Such peasant food,” He tries to offload the cheese on Adrien, who practically falls off the bed to avoid it.

“That's ok, Lila said she was bringing a specially prepared dish by the top chef of the most popular restaurant in Gotham,” Rose squeals excitedly, unintentionally running both their moods.

“I did but just outside the hospital was a poor, sick, homeless man, he begged me for any food I had," translated from Lila speak roughly means; I ate it, "I thought Marion would understand that some people actually needed food enough to not turn the nose up at anything,”

The class gives their assurance and praise. Marion's eyes narrow, unwrapping the cheese and just straight up taking a bite. Marinette spots Plagg being held back by Klakki and Tikki, hiding behind their bags. He chews on it bitterly downright glaring at Lila.

“Dude you were totally badass!” Nino breaks into Marion's brooding.

“Was I? Everything's kinda a blur, especially after the fear toxin,” Marion directs Nino's attention elsewhere, dropping the wheel of cheese off the edge of the bed, into Plaggs waiting arms.

“You were so cool, it was all bam! and swoop!” Kim stands up, badly reenacting punching the air.

“Ah yes, that clears it up, thank you,” Marion says sarcastically, letting Adrien pass him a bag of chips to drown out the taste of camembert.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Alix leans forward, interest sparking in her eyes.

“Ah- Maman taught us of course,” Marinette answers, it was sort of true.

“She can be scary,” Kim shivers, having a selection of memories to choose from.

“Bring her to Gotham, we wouldn’t have problems like this anymore,” Nino lightly pouches Adrien's shoulder in place of Marion, leaning against the wall next to them.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was Ladybug,” Chloe muses, well they were both people she truly respected.

“Haha… yeah,” Marinette sweat drops, trying(and failing) to look unfazed.

“I have to say,” No you really don’t Lila, “I was surprised to see you two fight, you usually just up and run away whenever there's an Akuma attack, I guess you had no choice but to act brave this time,”

“They’ve helped out plenty of times during Akuma attacks,” Nino looks puzzled, oblivious to Lila's glowering.

“Yeah didn’t we tell you about how Marinette became class president?” Mylene asks, eating a snack that was probably organic contrast to the sugary monstrosities before them.

“Oh of course, but if they could fight this well all this time then they should be helping Ladybug and Chat Noir, god knows they need it,” Lila’s malice hinting at her own mention of the heroes.

“Nah, the dudes can handle themselves, it’s better not to get in their way,” Nino shrugs, hitting himself in the face with a snack he was trying to catch.

“Well unless they ask,” No one else catches the moment realisation(scheming) crosses Lila’s face “And I know for a fact Ladybug did,”

“Really!” Alya turns to Lila before whirling around to Marinette.

“Um, yeah! Ladybug once asked me to be Multimouse, to help beat Kwami buster,” Marinette answers before Alya can take out her phone.

“That is so cool! Why didn’t you tell me!” Alya’s enthusiasm is not nearly as potent as Lila’s malice.

“Because she asked me not to tell, but if Lila is going to tell everyone anyway there isn’t much point,” Marinette shrugs, her brother hiding a grin, Lila started this war but she could win this battle. “Marion saw me detransform so Ladybug can’t give me a miraculous ever again,”

“Well no wonder she chose you, you were so brave and cool, you were beating Scarecrow with a broken arm, even before Batman showed up!” Nathaniel speaks up, always the fan of superheroes.

“Didn’t he seem rather mad at you?” Lila asks(not so) innocently. ‘Wow she's really giving this her all’ Marinette muses, trying even when they are put in the hospital.

“I think it was likely aimed more at the guy holding us hostage,” Max states like a fact, slightly condescending.

“Of course, but it would have never happened if they didn’t spread the rumour in the first place,” Lila pushes as if they need a reminder.

“Uh, Lila I don’t think they did,” Rose says sweetly, pink frosting somehow ends up on her nose.

“What!” Lila snaps, making poor Rose jump, and others look surprised.

“Well they said they didn't, and Marinette's really smart,” Juleka mumbles, glaring at Lila.

“Hey!” Marion exclaims, getting a giggle from Rose.

“And Marion!” Juleka quickly amends.

“Now you just sound insincere,” Marion slouches down, sniffing theatrically. Juleka relaxes as Chloe teasingly patronises him in her own loving way.

“Something like that is really dangerous,” Mylene tells Lila gently. As if trying to explain to a child what they did wrong.

“No one would wish it on themselves,” Ivan backs up his girlfriend. Lila clearly looking for an opening to try and gain the advantage back.

“Marion almost died,” Kim says bluntly, honestly.

There is a long silence. They were all thinking it but none dared speak it. Even Lila lets the silence loom, nothing she could say would make them look worse and her better.

“So… what did you all do today?” Marinette tries to cut the uneasy silence.

“We went to the city library,” She of course knew that.

“That reminds me, I got out some books I thought you’d like, since your stuck in bed and everything,” Nino passes a book to each twin.

“Thanks,” Marion lets Adrien take the book for him, leaning over to look at the cover Marinette couldn’t see.

“Oh actually I did too!” Rose reaches into her pink bag.

“Me too,” Alix laughs, passing Marinette a history book.

Then everyone else reaches into their bags pulling out more books, giggling sheepishly.

“Oh no, I am going to be here forever aren’t I?” Marion stares in dismay at the accumulated pile, flopping miserably against Adrien.

“We’ll try our best,” Adrien promises, patting his head.

“Selina, do you want to explain to me why your Nephew was able to go toe to toe with Scarecrow, while under fear toxin,” Bruce asks in his, I already know the answer but for some reason I want you to say it, tone. Not even a minute after talking with the doctor.

“Do you want to explain to me how neither you or Robin realised he was under fear of toxin?” She deflects, heels clicking down the halls quickly.

“I believe this circles back to how he can operate under fear toxin,” Bruce growls.

“I don’t know Bruce!” She explodes, more dramatically to get him to drop it, but none the less true, “I taught them a thing or two sure! Some martial arts, parkour, stealing under the guise of magic!”

“What was that last one?” He asks, stopping.

“Not important!” She snaps, continuing on her rant, turning fully towards him, “But I never thought they could do something like that! How and why are they acting like it’s no big deal!”

“Selina, it’s ok,” He pulls her into a hug. She lets her lips curl slightly, that might be the quickest she’s been able to end an argument, short of jumping off a roof. “I’ll find out,”

“... They’re too much like you Bruce,” Selina leans into her fiance's chest, she could swear everyday the children looked more like him.

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, obliviously.

“In this case? It's dangerous,” She answers honestly, pausing before stepping back, “I need to call their parents,”

He nods, giving a chaste kiss before leaving her alone in the hall. She sits down, staring down at her phone for a long time.

“Aunt Selina?” Her chest twists painfully.

“Whats up Kitten, where are your friends,” She smiles at her so-called Niece, a word she avoided like the plague. That is to say, she tries but there's always a rat around to ruin everything.

“Oh I told them I had to go to the bathroom,” Marinette's bright smile betraying her.

“But,” Selina prompts as Marinette sits next to her.

“I’m actually celebrating,” She practically squeals.

“Why's that?” She asks, amused and warmed by her daughter's excitement.

“The kingdoms crashing down and the queens still inside,” Marinette says in a sing song voice.

“Should I be worried you sound so joyful?” Not that she actually would be.

“It’s a wicked Queen who abuses her power and makes her subjects miserable,” It’s teasing, but there is nothing artificial about the words.

“Party away,” Selina leans back, flipping her wrist.

“Knew you’d understand,” Marinette hugs her, letting her lean into it.

“I’ll always be here for you Kitten,” Selina brushes the hair out of her daughters face, “Now go, you don’t want to miss the show,”

Her smile is nothing compared to the one plastered on Marinette's face as she bounces away with a small wave. With a sigh Selina leans back, staring down at her phone. It could’ve been minutes, it could of been hours, but she hits call eventually.

“Hey there,” She greets, betraying nothing about the conversation to come. “Just wanted to let you know Marion is awake, just as sassy as usual,”

“Sassy, I just beat you at mecha strike three? Or you started the banter and he’s just matching you,” Tom asks, dusting flour off his hands as Sabine holds the phone.

“Brother dearest, how little do you think of me?” She asks in mock hurt, Tom raises an eyebrow, “Great, thanks,”

“Do you think we can call them?” Sabine asks.

“They’re with their friends right now so I wouldn’t, I think this has been a long time coming,” She thinks back to what Marinette said, the rude girl from their reunion at the Wayne tower coming to mind, “And it's not the only thing... look, I lied,”

“The shock of the century,”

“Tom!” Sabine swats at her husband, from past sparring matches with Sabine she knows she can do a lot worse.

“No, no he’s right, as much as it pains me to say it,” She sneers playfully at her brother, getting one in return. She hesitate before sharing, “The twins were actually specifically attacked by Scarecrow,”

“Why!?” They both burst out.

“Because everyone thinks Bruce Wayne is their Father…” Selina cringes at their surprised expressions, which are about to get a lot worse. “And their right,”

“I thought you didn’t know the Father?” Tom asks after a long pause, not accusingly but eerily calm.

“... I lied,” She shrugs, letting the awkwardness she usually keeps leashed leak through. Gina had practically raised them together, he knows how to see right through her better than most.

“This might actually be the shock of the century,” Tom nods, he doesn't seem mad, great thing about him reading her it works both ways.

“... Yeah,” She shrugs, letting the silence hang, long enough for them to process.

“You should tell them,” Sabine declares, so much assurance in such a small woman.

“What!” Selina stands in shock, making jerking gestures, “Sabine that not what I-”

“Hush now, let me speak,” Sabine chides, actually making her pause, “We will always be their parents, but that's only because of you,”

Selina goes to argue, but a stern glare is all the discouragement she needs. Tom is nodding along, of course! They’ve probably discussed this before

“It’s only right that you don’t have to look in pain every time they call you Aunt,” Apparently she was able to read Selina just as well as her husband,  “It’s your choice, but they have enough love in their heart for more than just us,”  

She tries, dammit she tries, but it’s not enough to stop the flood of emotions manifesting in tears.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: You definitely won’t trust now, but I hope to see y’all in two weeks anyway, please don’t hate me -Danny

Words: 5,048

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Book 5

Listen to: I Only Wanna Talk To You -by The Maine

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A New Vow.

Many things changed as the school year came to an end, none of them was good. 

Students would avoid her in the halls, they would stare at her and Harry carelessly, some frowning, some just plain scared. That wasn't new and it didn't hurt her anymore.

What hurt her was the way Harry grew distant out of the blue. He wouldn't touch her, not even sit beside her on accident. He would talk to her as if nothing had happened but she could see it in his eyes, some kind of distress, she had the ugly feeling that he resented her.

Mel was talking to Erick one morning in the courtyard, where they used to hang out during her first year. She was there to deliver Dumbledore's message and to thank him, it was their first time talking since the first task.

"I don't know what I would've done without the watch... it saved us."

Erick shook his head. "I merely confirmed his suspicions, Dumbledore was already looking for you when I got to him."

"You got him when I fainted during the task, you stood guard outside the tent while we were inside and I was..." She didn't know what to call it, her first thought was always directed to the word 'dying' but she knew now that those weren't her feelings, it was Harry who'd been dying, not her.

"You looked possessed. I thought you were... that you had..."

"That I was crazy," Mel sighed.

"...How's Harry?"

"We don't talk about that," Mel frowned, not wanting to go there. "Dumbledore has a message for you."

"Tell me."

"You won't like it."

"Try me."

"He said you could be of help," She replied carefully. "That if you're willing, you could join us."

"For what?" Erick asked in puzzlement.

"He didn't explain... said you could search for rogues."

After ten seconds, Erick spoke timidly. "Rogues like me?"

"I think so..."

"He wants me to dig around, see if any other Slytherin shares my... views."

"He kept saying how we have to stick together," Mel shook her head. "I think he's expecting us to try harder next year, unite the houses while we can..."

"I..." Erick started to stress. "It's too dangerous for me, you know that. Half of my friends come from Death Eaters or you-know-who's supporters. It's like walking on thin ice."

"You don't have to do it," Mel said promptly. "I know how your parents feel about this, and if they catch you doing something like that, trying to speak in Dumbledore's favour... I know that in comparison to me, you're on your own. I can't make you risk your well being like this."

Erick stared at her, he remained silent for a while, Mel didn't know what to do.

"Did you know, Miss," He finally uttered, "that Rapunzel isn't saved by a prince?"

She tilted her head and waited for him to finish.

"Found her way out of the mess, rebuilt her life on her own," Erick continued calmly. "I believe we'll do too."

"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid said as they settled around his table. "She's jus' left."

"Who?" said Ron curiously.

"Madame Maxime, o' course!" said Hagrid.

"You two made up, have you?" said Ron.

"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," said Hagrid. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and examined Harry and Mel closely. "You all righ'?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"All right," Mel smiled.

"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. " 'Course yeh're not. But yeh will be. Knew he was goin' ter come back. Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."

Mel looked down to her cup, frowning.

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," He said, patting her shoulder gently. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did. Yeh did as much as yer fathers would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."

They smiled, the very first glimpse of their old self coming to the surface.

"What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that night."

"Got a little job fer me over the summer– Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter you — might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."

"Is it to do with Voldemort?" "Migh' be," Hagrid grimaced. "Now... who'd like ter come an'visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' — jokin'!"

Mel's eyes found Harry's and he quickly averted his gaze. She frowned, a resolution already forming in her mind that she would clear things out with her best friend before they were back home.

She walked into his room when she knew he'd be alone packing up his things.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" He said, gaze fixed on his trunk.

"I want to talk to you. You're the only one I want to talk to, but you keep avoiding me..."

"What d'you mean?"

"Can you at least look at me for just a second?" She frowned.

Harry did as told, his face remaining neutral as Mel approached. She looked into his eyes and pulled him in for a hug.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled against his shoulder. "Whatever I did– Please don't be mad. I swear all I wanted was to help you–"

Harry stepped away from her, not returning the hug.

"What're you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! You don't... you won't–"

"I'm not mad at you!" Harry said exasperated. "Don't you see this is all my fault?"

Mel blinked.

"What?"

"I saw the bruises... What happened to you during the time Voldemort got me– you could've died!"

"Harry," She looked at him in disbelief. "You could've died."

"This is about you," He replied firmly. "It's my fault. I've dragged you to all of my mistakes and you end up hurt–"

"Those were my choices–"

"It was never your idea," He stated. "Dumbledore said that we're too close..."

"No! That's not... I did all that because I need you to be–"

"This was a mistake," Harry was breathing heavily, he was in distress. "What we did was a mistake."

"What, exactly?" She said in a shaky whisper, knowing where this was going.

"You know," His eyes hardened.

"That's rubbish!" It felt like holding sand, desperately trying not to let him slip away from her fingers. "This is not the solution–!"

"I don't think I ever liked you for real," He blurted out, "it wasn't my choice..."

"What?"

"I... I mean it," He turned around, hastily packing the last bits of clothing. "I think it might be the lifeline stuff... didn't like that you were getting close to other people– It sounds selfish, but it makes sense... some kind of instinct– doesn't mean it was real..."

"Harry, don't be stu–"

"I don't want you," He insisted. "I can't have you."

"Glasses–"

"My name is Harry!" He yelled, turning to face her. "Stop calling me that! I hate it! I hate the stupid nickname and I don't like you!"

Mel felt cornered, Harry had never spoken to her like that before. He turned back and slammed down the lid of his trunk.

"Just leave me alone." He said, abandoning the conversation as well as the room.

She stumbled back to his bed, falling heavily on it. Without being able to control herself, she burst into tears.

Mel avoided him for the rest of the term, spending most of her free time with the twins like the old times. It was good for her spirit, they knew how to make her laugh. During the feast she was seated between them, Dumbledore stood up to give his farewell speech and they fell silent.

"The end of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, fixing his eyes on the Hufflepuff table, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here, enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

And so they did. Every student in the room.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about... Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

George looked down at her and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory. There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

She refused to look for him and kept her gaze on the old man ahead.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour him."

She lifted her goblet and said his name, but found herself saying it with a new resentment that had never been there before. It didn't feel right.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before. Every guest in this Hall, will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst."

Her fists were closed tightly, there was still a faint greenish shadow were the bruise on her forearm had been days before.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

" 'Arry!" Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps, Joseph was beside her.  "We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope. I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," said Ron clumsily.

Mel had her attention on Joseph.

"It was nice," Mel smiled fondly. "You're ten times funnier than your cousin."

Joseph laughed.

"Don't judge him too hard, it's the way he's been brought up. He used to be a lousy kid, very loving too... people grow out of it, unfortunately."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Maybe," He smiled sweetly at her. "Take care, will you?"

"Yes."

"Will you watch after my cousin too?"

"Not like I have a choice..."

He chuckled. "See you, Mel."

"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go with Joseph. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

As Mel watched them leave, she had the reassuring feeling that maybe Erick wasn't entirely on his own after all.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer. He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." Krum said behind them. He looked at Hermione. "Could I have a vord?"

"Oh... yes... all right," said Hermione.

"You'd better hurry up!" Ron called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"

"Oh shut up, Ron," Mel scolded. "Let her have one moment in private with him."

"What, is not like she'll be missing him lots, they didn't even date."

"You don't need to date someone in order to miss them," She snapped. "Or like them, for that matter..." She felt Harry purposefully look away as she spoke. When Krum returned, he talked to them.

"I liked Diggory. He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff."

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" Harry asked.

Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"

Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.

The trip back was good enough, even if Mel and Harry couldn't look at each other in the eye. Dumbledore's speech had given them energies, and just like he'd said before, they still had to remain together, for the greater good.

"There's nothing in there," Hermione signalled to the Daily Prophet Harry was staring at. "You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

"Of course he is," Mel scoffed, "he's an idiot, but not that kind of idiot."

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione delightedly. "As a matter of fact, Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione.

"Oh, right!" Mel said. "What was that about?"

"How was she doing it?" said Harry.

"How did you find out?" said Ron.

"Well, it was you and Mel who gave me the idea, Harry."

"What? How?"

"Bugging," said Hermione happily.

"But you said they didn't work —"

"Oh not electronic bugs," said Hermione. "No, you see... Rita Skeeter" — Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph — "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —" Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. "— into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't... she's not..."

"Oh yes she is," said Hermione.

"Holy Godric," Mel laughed loudly for the first time in days.

"That's never — you're kidding —" Ron mumbled, examining the jar.

"No, I'm not. I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry exclaimed.

"When you fainted there was a beetle in the curtain as well," Mel replied, her eyes fixed on the tiny creature. "And when I talked to Cedric before the first task..."

"Exactly. And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree..."

"He was talking to her, in his hand. He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid. I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

"Hermione, I love you," Mel grinned.

The door of the compartment slid open.

"Very clever, Granger," Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there. "So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again. Big deal." He stared at them with bright eyes. "Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," Harry tensed.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this! Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the f —"

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all on the ground and they were on their feet, all four of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred entering their compartment.

"Interesting effect," said George, examining Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd– I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George pushed them out into the corridor, when they straighten up, Ron turned his head slightly towards her.

"Er... Mel?"

She walked out of the compartment and found Erick standing there, looking down at the three Slytherins.

"Oh," She smiled. "Hello. Don't worry boys, I got this."

Erick had a sort of exasperated look on his face.

"Why don't you turn around and forget you saw this," George ignored her. "We promise not to hurt you if you do."

"You promise not to hurt me?" Erick let out a dry laugh. "Right..."

"He's not here to report us," Ron said, pushing his brother back into the compartment. "Listen to Mel..."

"Don't annoy her, the year's over and so is the committee," George insisted.

"George," Mel sighed. "It's okay."

"Listen, we can clear all doubts in a moment, but can I talk to her first?" Erick frowned. "In private."

The boys entered the compartment reluctantly, they had just closed the door when he spoke.

"I'll do it. Whatever Dumbledore wants me to do."

Mel was taken by surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"What he said during the speech... he's right," He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's time to make a choice."

"But your parents–"

"Don't have to know. If there's any chance that there are more people like me... if I can convince them... it'll be worth it, right?"

Before she could stop herself, she held his hand.

"Come."

"What?"

"Come in for a second, meet the Weasleys."

"So they can kill me? No thanks–"

"They won't," She dragged him inside. Everyone stared at them. "Erick won't report us."

"Good for him," Ron replied in disinterest.

"I think it's time we clear things up," She continued with determination. "Erick and I are good friends. He doesn't need to prove his loyalty to anyone, but he wants to help my uncle, so it'd be brilliant if you could, you know, be nice to him."

"No need to look so outraged," Erick said, staring at the twins' faces. "Being a Slytherin doesn't equal being a monster. I could've reported you to Professor McGonagall thousands of times during the school year but I kept my mouth shut. Why?"

"Because you knew we could've kicked your arse?"

"Very classy," He rolled his eyes. "I did it out of consideration for Mel. Now Dumbledore asked for my help and that's what I'll give. All I want is for you to stay out of my way and stop acting like I'm the danger. I assure you, Mel's the bad influence here. All I care about is being of use."

A heavy silence surrounded them as the boys processed the news.

"All right then, be of use," George shrugged. "Close the door and sit down, we've had enough visitors for today."

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards. "Be of use, Flint, open the window before you sit."

"I'm going to regret this..." Erick groaned, doing as asked.

She purposely seated Erick between her and Harry for the rest of the trip.

"You going to tell us, then?" Harry said to George after a while. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"What?" Erick looked around in confusion.

"Long story," Hermione said over her book.

"It doesn't matter," said Fred. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

"Come on!"

Harry, Hermione, Ron and her insisted so much that Fred lost his patience.

"All right, all right, if you really want to know... it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman? Are you saying he was involved in —"

"Nah. Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?"

"You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah."

"Well," He glanced at Mel, "The git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"So I guess, you could say I told you so, Lady," George scowled. "We were idiots."

"But — it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back."  

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!"

"Tell me about it," George scoffed. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?"

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"I knew it!" Mel exclaimed.

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win! Well — I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope– The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

"My Grandad's a big fan of Zonko's," Erick mentioned casually, placing his cards on the table. "And he relishes on supporting young inventors, reminds him of the old days. If you send me samples I'll show them to him and he might help you... What? Don't look at me like that, it's not dirty money!"

"Sorry," Fred said, raising a brow. "It's weird to see you acting like... well, like a good person."

"Unexpected, you mean," George suggested. "You have the looks of a conceited prat."

"Give it time," Mel muttered.

"Shut it," Erick nudged her arm. "Anyway, I better leave and finish my rounds before we arrive... I'll write if anything comes up, Mel."

They waved him goodbye, the twins looked at her with their eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Nothing," Fred smirked. "Bad influence you are then, aren't you?"

"You've corrupted Slytherin's Prince!"

"Careful Harry," Fred teased. "Don't let him get too comfortable or he'll think he's got a chance!"

"Shut up," Mel interrupted harshly. "Erick doesn't like me that way..."

"Sure thing, and Krum's nothing but a good mate to Hermione," George grinned.

"Fred — George — wait a moment."

She heard Harry said after leaving the compartment. She froze, curiosity winning over her.

"Take it," He said, and she could hear the distinct sound of coins inside a sack falling onto someone's hands.

"What?" said one of the twins.

"Take it. I don't want it."

"You're mental–"

"No, I'm not. You take it and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

"He is mental."

"Listen, if you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."

He was giving them the tournament's money. Her heart did that odd flip it hadn't done in days.

"Harry," she kept hearing, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."

"Yeah, think how many Canary Creams that is– Just don't tell your mum where you got it... although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it..."

"Harry–"

"Look, take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

Harry left the compartment and faced her. There was a moment where she caught a glimpse of something, for a second he looked like he wanted to speak. It disappeared right away though, taking all her hopes with it. He scowled and walked past her without uttering a word.

"See you, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry — thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys' car.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come... and he would have to meet it when it did.

Mel entered her mother's car in silence, she was still trying to understand how things had gone to the dogs between her and Harry so quickly. There was something pressing on her chest and she wasn't sure she wanted to plug it out.

Her mother spoke for the first time in the day.

"We're not staying at Privet Drive this summer."

"What?" Mel asked absently.

"We'll go there to get your clothes, then we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning to Remus' place," Her mother explained quickly. "I know you want to stay and make sure Harry's fine, but I have things to do and you can't be left alone–"

"Okay."

Her mother stared at her.

"What?"

"I know Harry's going to be safe, surrounded by muggles and all," She tried to keep her voice neutral. "If we're of use somewhere else, I want to go."

Emily knew right away that something was wrong, but whether if she thought it was about Harry or not, she didn't comment on it.

"All right. It'll be a long summer, this one..."

"Yeah," Mel looked out the window as the car left their parking spot.

The girl felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she'd been dreading to go back and have no one to talk to but Harry. Not that he'd be visiting her house at all, but at least now she had an excuse to stay away from him. To leave him alone, just as he'd requested.

Mel thought, very bitterly, that her biggest dream and worst nightmare had come true at the same time. She made a vow not to wish for anything ever again.

Next Part —>

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[thedinalixlegacy]

"What do you see when you look into my eyes?" for Na'brina?

Thank you so much for asking!! As I mentioned I’m not the best writer, but I really enjoyed writing this one, so thanks! Hope you like it as well :’)

(I’m not a native English speaker either so my apologies if I butchered something😂)

For context: Na’brina and Andronikos have been in a relationship for a little while now, but there are still some important things left unsaid. Things Na’brina had actually hoped would never come to light, such as her past as a slave. But as long as there are people in the galaxy who recognize you as a former slave, it cannot remain a secret forever.

~~~

Her blood ran cold.

What did that Imp just say?

The air crackled with electricity around her and with one simple motion she aimed it all at the man in front of her, prompting his body to shudder and convulse like a fish held above the water.

How dare he.

The body fell to the ground and the smell of burned flesh reached her nostrils. She was not done yet. Another wave of lightning. How dare he. Anger transformed to release at the tips of her fingers. Her teeth clenched. Kriff it all if they still needed him.

"Uh, Sith?"

Kriff it all to hell, they would find someone else. His sorry face didn't even deserve that honour.

"I think you got the point across, he's dead."

His sorry face didn't even deserve to be put on this earth in the first place. How dare he.

"Na'brina?"

The bastard didn't know what he was talking about. Nothing he said could be trusted.

"Damn it 'Brin, snap out of it!" Andronikos' face came into view and immediately the Sith broke off the waves of lightning, lest he got caught in the currents too. 

"What?" She snapped at him.

"What’s this about?" His voice was low as he gestured to what was left of the Imperial officer. "That's overkill even for you."

Na'brina scowled, hands itching to continue the treatment. "He deserved no less." If only there were more idiots here to zap into oblivion.

"What he said then, was it true?"

"Kriff off Andronikos."

The frown on his face morphed into a look of surprise before once again being replaced by a frown. "So it was. Shit."

"I said kriff off." The sheer amount of venom in her voice didn't make him back down as she had hoped, it just deepened the ridges between his brows. She scowled and turned around, willing her voice to stay even. "We're done here."

The Force fuelled her step as she strode outside, hearing Andronikos jog a little to catch up. He was probably mulling it all over. Not that it mattered what he thought, he could think whatever he wanted. She didn't care one bit.

The audacity of that officer to talk about her like that. In front of one of her companions as well. How dare he.

"So you think you're better than us now? Don't forget that they only let you out of that collar for the entertainment of those higher up. Once a slave, always a slave."

She zapped one of the beasts strolling around on the grass next to the path, not even bothering to stop walking as she did so.

Andronikos still hadn't said anything.

Na'brina wrung her hands together to keep them from shaking; it must've suddenly gotten colder outside. She knew she recognized that guy from somewhere, but that he had known about the circumstances around her arrival on Korriban was just infuriating. And she was supposed to work together with him? Na'brina was glad he was dead.

"Why-"

"We're almost there." She cut the pirate off, suddenly not feeling like talking. She needed to clear her mind for the next project. This one had failed. What now? What next? There was still that text about Sith who used to be able to transport from one place to the next. Might be worth looking into after all.

"Listen, Sith..."

"Not now Andronikos." Na'brina heard him sigh but luckily her companion dropped the matter. Good. Such conversations were only distractions. Right now she needed to focus on more important things -how to get stronger.

---

Blast it! With a loud clatter the datapad crashed into the far wall, bits and pieces of it flying around after impact. Kark it all to hell. It didn't work. Those stupid texts with their stupid riddles. She would need to invent a kriffing time machine if she ever wanted to figure this out.

There was a shuffle on the other side of the wall she had thrown the datapad at, probably someone she had spooked with the sound. It didn't matter. The stupid text didn’t make any sense and she hated it.

She had been lowkey terrorizing the crew for the past few days, staying holed up in the engine room of the ship with her books and datapads and snapping at everything and everyone when she did leave it. Somewhere underneath it all she realised that she was being sour and unfair, and she really wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Andronikos or at the very least just sit with him in the same room. But she couldn’t bear that, it that would mean... Well, it didn't matter. She didn't care.

Na'brina picked up another book. She needed to get stronger, she'd show them all. All those Imperials, those Sith who thought they were better than her. They would be the ones to eat dirt this time.

The swoosh of the door opening made her look up from her place on the floor and then with a sigh down at the book again. Just the person she didn’t feel like seeing. "What do you want?" She asked shortly.

"Just checking if everything's still working, Ashara heard you were throwing things around." Andronikos stepped further into the room but stopped when Na'brina shot him a warning glance. "What's going on 'Brin?"

She hated that voice he put up. As if she was a baby Akk dog that needed to be handled carefully. It was infuriating. At the same time it made her want to run towards him and let him hold her close.

"Nothing’s going on." She hoped her voice told him this conversation was over and stood up to pick up the pieces of the now broken datapad. "Just working."

"Right. Working. Is that why you keep shutting us all out?" Na'brina glanced over towards him, Andronikos had crossed his arms and his voice was steely. He wasn't happy with her at all.

She pressed her lips together and turned to him, voice just as sharp. "Can’t I just do my own research anymore? Do I need to do whatever you want me to now? All of you?" She hated how quickly she became angry these days, but she wouldn’t ignore it. The pieces of the broken datapad shattered even further in her balled fists.

Andronikos for his part only looked slightly taken aback. "‘Course not. But this isn’t just you doing research, you're shutting us all out over some crazy speedrun-to-power quest that's impossible in the first place!"

"It's not impossible!" She snarled. She just needed to look at it again but darn it, she couldn't work when he was here talking nonsense to her.

“Then why not let us help!” Andronikos snapped back. “We’re all sitting here twiddling our thumbs, what happened to more minds equals more knowledge?”

Na’brina didn’t have an answer for that, she bit her lip and turned away from him, dropping the pieces of the datapad she had been holding onto the workbench. There was no salvaging that one anymore.

Behind her she heard Andronikos sigh. “What’s it for anyway, why are you suddenly doing this?”

“You know what it’s for.” The Sith answered, clipped.

“To be able to punish people like that guy three days ago? You’re already more than capable of doing that.”

That was not the- The frustrations of the past few days reached their boiling point and Na’brina turned towards the pirate with a snarl. “No.” She told him, anger spilling over and darkening the Force around them, though it was more directed at the world at large than at him. “That’s not the issue! It’s that look he had, that look they all gave me. Pity, contempt, disgust. I will not be looked down upon again.” The Force was tense and crackling with energy but she payed it no mind. “Yet no matter how far I’ve come I always run into it again. It’s not enough. I’m not yet powerful enough because if I was they’d see that instead of just another dancer girl.” Those last words were spit out, with the same disrespect as they had always held when aimed at her.

It had been a relief to say out loud part of what had been eating at her, but now that it was done she started to regret doing so. She actually didn’t want to discuss this with him at all. Na’brina looked down, and then past him to the wall when she hated herself for doing that too. “No matter. I still have work to do here, so.”

The dismissal was clear as day but Andronikos had never been one for backing down. He seemed to realise something. “Is that why you’re avoiding us?” He wanted to know. “Why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Na’brina eyes widened for a fraction of a second. What was the reason that had her suddenly convinced she didn’t need others anymore? Then she frowned. “It doesn’t matter.” She said coldly, because it didn’t. “I’m better off doing this on my own.”

But Andronikos took a step towards her, making her take one back on reflex. “Yes it matters! Do you believe that’s how I think about you? What do you see when you look into my eyes? ‘S that pity, or disgust?”

Na’brina actually looked at him now, brows furrowed. Was it? Had she even dared to look at him these past few days? Probably not, because the fire that shone within his eyes was hard to miss.

“I care about you Sith.” Andronikos took another step closer and this time Na’brina didn’t step back. “And if you want me to leave you for good then that’s fine, just say the word. But at least do so based on the truth and not on assumptions.” His eyes bore into hers, as if daring her to argue. The frustration in his voice was present there too, but it was overshadowed by a fierce determination. The Force around him echoed the same, a silent plea for her to see reason and believe his words.

He spoke the truth. To deem it any less would be a lie. He really did still see her as the Sith he had met on Tatooine, instead of an ex-slave playing make-believe.

It was as if the weight of a planet fell from her shoulders and a fog disappeared. What appeared to have been biggest source of her frustration -or fear?- during the last few days seemed to dissolve and suddenly she felt very tired. What had she been thinking? Was it his opinion she had been so afraid of?

On a whim she closed the gap between them and silently wrapped her arms around his torso, feeling the tension leave him immediately as he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin.

“I don’t want you to leave.” She told him then, because that was her truth and it needed to be spoken.

His chest moved underneath her head as he exhaled. “I’m glad to hear that,” he pressed a kiss on the top of her head, “because to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have a clue where to go.”

Na’brina lifted her head to look at him. “Good.” She told him. Before he had the time to react she leaned forward and pressed their lips together, feeling just the hint of a smile on his. She could admit to herself that she might have missed this a tiny bit during the last few days. Okay maybe a lot.

“Listen ‘Brin,” Andronikos started when they broke apart, “I can’t take your past experiences away from you, and those kind of things can stay with someone for a long time. Just, don’t assume I’m the same as them okay? I’m in your corner, truly. And so is the rest of the crew.”

At the mention of the others Na’brina pulled back, looking past him at the door as if she could see them through the walls. “I suppose I might have… Reacted poorly.” Oh how she hated to admit it. Her anger is her own and she would not apologize for showing that, but to let her own insecurities blind her to the truth, that she hated. Power was good, but it had no value if one could not see the truth. Or, as she had done, even actively turned away from seeking out what this truth was.

She composed herself. “However, don’t expect me to apologize to them. This is my ship and they are free to leave whenever they want.”

Andronikos laughed. “I hadn’t expected any less. If you would actually apologize for scaring them shitless they’d be convinced someone has possessed you.”

That was actually a pretty reassuring thought, she had to admit. She wasn’t the weak little kid anymore, shipped off to Force knows where with no control over her life at all. There might always be more who looked down upon her but them she would crush with her bare hands -she was already more than relieved she had earned the respect of the one closest to her.

Na’brina looked at her partner and raised a brow, the ghost of a grin making its way on her face. She had to ask. “Do I ever scare you shitless?”

Andronikos grinned and pulled her close for another kiss. “Every damn day.”