#i know he has his special Sharps somewhere in there too n not just the one knife

[mingoooossii]

Little things you do that makes ATEEZ feel soft.

Ateez!maknae line x reader

Warnings: fluff and just the boys being whipped <33

A/n: i kinda let this marinate in my head but I think it's been too long. Also the song, not inspired but I was listening to it while making this.

Hyung line. Ateez masterlist. Masterlists.

San.

Tugging his sleeve.

• ok so, ik this is a bit confusing but hear me out.

• this is a thing you do often, grabbing his sleeve for a sense of comfort, to get him to come with you to somewhere

• or simply just...to get his attention.

• for you it's a habit that brings you a sense of familiarity and security that is so comforting.

• you don't even notice it when you do it, it just feels so natural.

• but for him? He never felt so soft before.

• he knew this was a sort of comfort to you and was glad that he could provide it to you.

• and god, you were so adorable.

• that cute expression you wear when you seek for him and that small smile that find its way to your lips when you find him?

• *internal screeching*

• dies a little inside everytime you do it and the next thing you know, he's pulling you into a bear hug.

"Damn it! Why are you so cute?!"

"???"

• good luck trying to escape him now.

Mingi.

Covering him when he's about to bump into something.

• as we all know this man can get quite clumsy.

• so it is not uncommon that he bumps into stuff, especially the kitchen counter corners, and gets bruises.

• he doesn't even notice it most of the time.

• you, however, do notice it and gets worried.

• you tried to tell him before but to no avail, he never even noticed.

• so you made it your mission instead. Covering the sharp corners with your hand whenever he was about to bump into it.

• you did it so often that it was almost instinctive now.

• he, however, took a while to notice this

• and when he did, he was so touched 😭

• he felt like those female leads from those kdramas

• he felt so so special like-

• and now, he sometimes does it intentionally to see if you'd react the same way.

• and gets giddy when you do. (Imagine him giggling with his crescent eye smile 😭 I'm gonna cry-)

"I have something to confess. I'm in love with you."

"... Mingi, we're literally dating."

"I know and I love you."

Wooyoung.

Listening to him.

• this isn't new information but he loved to talk.

• it just comes naturally to him, wanting to share anything that makes him happy.

• now, he knew that not everyone might like this habit of his but it didn't really matter to him.

• not when you looked at him like he put the stars in the sky.

• And you weren't the most extroverted person.

• it just... wasn't your thing so you appreciated him doing all the expressing for you.

• now, he knew you genuinely liked to listen to him (even if it's something random, you'd still listen to it like it's the most interesting thing)

• but he was curious. Why exactly did you like it so much?

• he asked you this one day and you responded,

• "You look happy when you talk, so i wanted to listen because it makes me happy too."

• ...he swore, he just fell deeper in love with you.

"I'm gonna marry you."

"...?!"

Jongho.

Giving him little gifts.

• more specifically, hand-made gifts

• you were big on crafting

• knitting, origami, bead making whatever it is, you loved doing it

• and you also love giving it to him. Whenever you two hang out, you always had something to give him

• and he loved it.

• Even though he pretends to complain abt it at times

• you had often found him staring at your little creations with a soft smile

• though he had always denied it whenever you tried to confront him

• you know that he truly appreciates it

• to him, these were little tokens of your love and that is enough to melt him

• he always has one of your little gifts on him like a charm (because it makes him feel like he's with you even when you two were apart)

• he's also kind of protective over it

• never lets any of the members touch any of the charms (que the members teasing him for it) but he doesn't really care

• he loves you so that's all that matters

"... It's been...a while."

"Admit you love it, then I'll make you another one."

"...I don't know what you're talking about."

[cheeby]

The weight of what comes next

read chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here

content: a multi-part isekai story. reader is aware of the plot, and every minor character is aged up. Jujutsu high is now the University of Jujutsu.

18+, eventual smut

Chapter 3-

“Oh, speak of the devil. Here’s your fellow first year buddy,” Gojo chuckles. “Megumi! C’mon over!”

You turn, expecting… well, you weren’t too sure. The boy walking towards you looks like he’s wandered out of a far-away, wistful daydream. His dark hair flops over his forehead, his expression somewhere between bored and annoyed, and he's giving you a look like he already regrets meeting you. He’s absolutely beautiful.

“This is Fushiguro Megumi,” Gojo announces, lazily draping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. Megumi immediately shrugs him off. “He’s our star student! Aaand the only student here that probably won’t make you wanna gouge your eyes out.”

“How comforting..” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Megumi casts a glance your way, his sharp eyes scanning your face briefly, as though trying to figure you out. You blush under his gaze. It feels somehow different than how Nanami or Gojo look at you.

“Who’s this?” He asks Gojo, ignoring you completely. Umm okayyy..

“This,” Gojo says, motioning towards you with a dramatic flourish, “Is (Y/N) (L/N), our newest recruit. Isn’t she soo lucky to have you as her mentor?" “Mentor?” Megumi repeats, frowning. “What.. are you talking about?” “Oh, right, I didnt mention! You two are going on a mission together.” Gojo’s tone is way too cheerful for what he’s just dropped. “Call it… bonding time!” “Wait, what?” You and Megumi say in unison.

Gojo nods. “I know it's a little fast, but we don’t have other sorcerers available right now. Plus, it's just going to another university and investigating a ~spooky~ special-grade object!” He laughs. “Its nothing too bad. And this is a great way for (Y/N) to gain some first hand experience before starting lessons on Monday!”

Megumi grunts. “Great.” He mutters. “And, (Y/N), since you can't really use your cursed energy right now, you’ll be given a weapon imbued with cursed energy to help you fight any curses! Cool, right?” He grins, putting his face between his hands. ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You and Megumi set out on your mission together. You wonder if this is where you’ll meet Yuji, since universities replace the high schools in this universe. Thank god, you think, relieved. You totally didnt wanna be the only young adult along with some 16 year olds! Even though you’re only a few years older than them, it’s just weird.

Megumi’s barely said a word to you since you’ve met him, but you’re okay with it, since his character's exactly like this in the anime. It’s sort of comforting.

You shift the concealed glaive Gojo lent you in your hands. To anyone else, it looks like some sort of tall instrument in its carrier. Your glaive is beautiful, with intricate carvings along the handle and a blade that gleams unnaturally sharp. It’s surprisingly light too—Gojo explained that it was imbued with energy to reduce its weight and sharpen its blade. You could probably spin it around in your hands if you tried, but you know better than that.

The two of you board a packed train to Sendai, and you settle into your seat next to Megumi. It’s early summer here, and the AC is on full blast above you. Megumi’s in his usual dark uniform, which you think is weird, what university has a uniform? You glance down at your own outfit, the one you've stayed in this whole time—jeans and a cute pink top— and suddenly feel self-conscious. Compared to Megumi’s sleek, polished look, you feel massively underdressed. Then, it hits you: what about all your clothes? You groan. You’re gonna have to buy a whole new wardrobe!

At that, Megumi glances at you, his brow furrowed slightly. “What’s wrong?” He asks quietly.

You blink, caught off guard by his attention. “Oh, uh… just thinking about something. I live kinda.. far from Tokyo, so I’m not sure how I’ll get my clothes and stuff to my room.”

He raises a brow, unimpressed. “Just buy new stuff. Gojo will cover it.” His tone is matter-of-fact, as if that suddenly solves everything. He just doesn’t get it! “And on missions, you can only wear your uniform anyway. Obviously not in this case, but you’ll get one soon enough.”

You nod, processing his words. “Don’t you think it’s weird that a university enforces a uniform though?”

Megumi looks away in thought, tilting his head slightly. “I mean, I guess if it was an academic university. But it’s for sorcerers, and we always usually wear some sort of professional wear, I guess. It's just custom in Japan.” You hum in agreement. “I went to a regular university before this… so it’s still weird to me.”

At this, he looks back at you, curiosity flickering across his usually stoic face. God, he’s so cute!

“I was studying physics,” You continue, a hint of pride slipping into your voice. “At a pretty prestigious university in my country.” Even though you were only there for a couple months, it’s still something you’re proud of. You were in your first year of university back home, similar to now.

Megumi nods slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, to your utter shock, he says, “That’s… cool.”

Your eyes widen. Did… Megumi just compliment you?

You settle into a comfortable silence for the next hour and a half. Despite yourself, you feel oddly shy sitting so close to him. Megumi Fushiguro, in the flesh. In 2021, when you had first watched the anime, you had the biggest crush on him. Seeing him in person, rather than a 2D character on your screen? Completely swoon-worthy. His lashes are just as long as you remember, his hands just as graceful. You feel your cheeks heat up, and you force yourself to look away before he catches you staring.To your relief, (and honestly your delight), you’d realised earlier that you’re indeed the same age. Then, there was the fact you were in 2018, which was a total mind-fuck of its own. You had figured it out when you pulled out your iPhone 15 in front of Megumi, who had given you the weirdest look.

“What model is that?” He’d asked, frowning.

You were about to say, before you glanced at his iPhone.. 6s?

“Oh, uh, it’s a foreign brand,” you said quickly, shoving your phone back in your bag before he could question it further. ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The train pulls into Sendai in the evening, and the two of you make your way to the university campus.

“There are strong cursed energy residuals near that shed,” he mutters, pointing towards the small structure in the distance. You pause. For the first time, you realise you can feel it too—sticky and all things gross.

You two find the shed broken into, just like in the anime. There is no cursed object in sight. This, of course, sends Megumi into a panic, as he tries to search for it nearby.

“Damn it,” he mutters, stepping around the shed and again circling the area, clearly agitated. You lean casually against the shed, watching him with mild amusement. You’re not exactly sure why, but you don’t feel particularly inclined to help.

“Are you seriously just gonna stand there?” He snaps at you, glaring.

“Hm.. yup.” You grin, trying—and failing— to suppress a laugh. “Its clearly not here anyway, Megu- uhh Fushiguro.” Damn it! Why do you keep saying their first names?!

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re impossible.” He mutters, before pulling out his phone to call Gojo.

“There’s nothing here. The Stevenson hutch is empty.” Megumi says, evenly.

“For real? That’s hilarious. Maybe it took a nighttime stroll!” You can hear Gojo’s gleeful voice on the other end. You smile to yourself. Megumi’s jaw tightens. “I’m going to punch you.” He says flatly. “Well, no going home until it’s recovered, okay?” Gojo chirps, before the line disconnects. “I’m seriously going to punch him.” Megumi mutters. You can’t help but giggle at his exasperation. As the sky darkens even further, Megumi sighs and puts his phone away.

“We’ll book a hotel, and continue our search for the object tomorrow morning.” Megumi states, already scrolling on his phone for a good deal. “Okay!” You reply brightly, following him back towards the main road.

You check into the hotel, and head to your rooms, which are conveniently next to each other. You’re a little let down at the fact you weren’t forced into a “sorry, we only have one room available” trope, not that you.. wanted to share a room with Megumi of course. You just.. thought it would be funny. Maybe. Shaking the thought away, you settle into your room.

After dropping off your things, (which wasn’t much, at all), you and Megumi head out to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant. The two of you eat in silence, both way too hungry to bother with conversation, beyond the occasional “this is so good” between bites.

When the plates are cleared and you’re waiting for the bill, you stretch and stifle a yawn, glancing across the booth at Megumi. Deciding to break the silence, you try to strike up conversation.

“Soo, Fushiguro, how did you-” before you can finish, a waiter hands over the bill, and Megumi pays with Gojo-sensei’s card. You raise an eyebrow at the sight, but choose not to comment.

“What were you saying?” He asks softly, as he slides the card back into his wallet. Why was such a simple action so hot?! You hesitate. You were going to ask him how he became a jujutsu sorcerer, but you already knew. You had watched JJK 0 the second it came out, after all. “Oh, nothing important. Let’s get back to the hotel and catch some rest!” You say, cheerfully, brushing it off.

Megumi doesn’t reply, just nods in agreement.

You’re jolted awake by a knock at your door. Groggy and disorientated, you sit up as a familiar voice calls through the door. “Hurry up,” Megumi says, sounding irritated. You glance at the clock and groan. You didn’t even set an alarm. The rest of yesterdays night was uneventful, and since Megumi didnt seem up for much conversation, you just called it an early night.

You hop into the bathroom, brushing your teeth, and quickly fix your hair in the mirror, trying to look at least somewhat good, but without the time to shower, you feel super gross walking out in the same clothes as yesterday. Yuck! You open the door after you’ve finished getting ready. “Sorry for being late,” you say, in shame.

Megumi just scoffs. Okay… what’s his deal? ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The train pulls into Sendai in the evening, and the two of you make your way to the university campus.

“There are strong cursed energy residuals near that shed,” he mutters, pointing towards the small structure in the distance. You pause. For the first time, you realise you can feel it too—sticky and all things gross.

You two find the shed broken into, just like in the anime. There is no cursed object in sight. This, of course, sends Megumi into a panic, as he tries to search for it nearby.

“Damn it,” he mutters, stepping around the shed and again circling the area, clearly agitated. You lean casually against the shed, watching him with mild amusement. You’re not exactly sure why, but you don’t feel particularly inclined to help.

“Are you seriously just gonna stand there?” He snaps at you, glaring.

“Hm.. yup.” You grin, trying—and failing— to suppress a laugh. “Its clearly not here anyway, Megu- uhh Fushiguro.” Damn it! Why do you keep saying their first names?!

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re impossible.” He mutters, before pulling out his phone to call Gojo.

“There’s nothing here. The Stevenson hutch is empty.” Megumi says, evenly.

“For real? That’s hilarious. Maybe it took a nighttime stroll!” You can hear Gojo’s gleeful voice on the other end. You smile to yourself. Megumi’s jaw tightens. “I’m going to punch you.” He says flatly. “Well, no going home until it’s recovered, okay?” Gojo chirps, before the line disconnects. “I’m seriously going to punch him.” Megumi mutters. You can’t help but giggle at his exasperation. As the sky darkens, Megumi sighs and puts his phone away.

“We’ll book a hotel, and continue our search for the object tomorrow morning.” Megumi states, already scrolling on his phone for a good deal. “Okay!” You reply brightly, following him back towards the main road.

You check into the hotel, and head to your rooms, which are conveniently next to each other. You’re a little let down at the fact you weren’t forced into a “sorry, we only have one room available” trope, not that you.. wanted to share a room with Megumi of course. You just.. thought it would be funny. Maybe. Shaking the thought away, you settle into your room.

After dropping off your things, (which wasn’t much, at all), you and Megumi head out to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant. The two of you eat in silence, both way too hungry to bother with conversation, beyond the occasional “this is so good” between bites.

When the plates are cleared and you’re waiting for the bill, you stretch and stifle a yawn, glancing across the booth at Megumi. Deciding to break the silence, you try to strike up conversation.

“Soo, Fushiguro, how did you-” before you can finish, a waiter hands over the bill, and Megumi pays with Gojo-sensei’s card. You raise an eyebrow at the sight, but choose not to comment.

“What were you saying?” He asks softly, as he slides the card back into his wallet. Why was such a simple action so hot?! You hesitate. You were going to ask him how he became a jujutsu sorcerer, but you already knew. You had watched JJK 0 the second it came out, after all. “Oh, nothing important. Let’s get back to the hotel and catch some rest!” You say, cheerfully, brushing it off.

Megumi doesn’t reply, just nods in agreement.

You’re jolted awake by a knock at your door. Groggy and disorientated, you sit up as a familiar voice calls through the door. “Hurry up,” Megumi says, sounding irritated. You glance at the clock and groan. You didn’t even set an alarm. The rest of yesterdays night was uneventful, and since Megumi didnt seem up for much conversation, you just called it an early night.

You hop into the bathroom, brushing your teeth, and quickly fix your hair in the mirror, trying to look at least somewhat good, but without the time to shower, you feel super gross walking out in the same clothes as yesterday. Yuck! You open the door after you’ve finished getting ready.

“Sorry for being late,” you say, in shame.

Megumi just scoffs. Okay… what’s his deal?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Back at the university grounds, Megumi turns to you, his expression serious.

“The presence of the object is too strong to pin down. It feels like its close by, but it could actually be far away. Special grade cursed objects are always a pain…” he rambles.

You nod along, pretending to be clueless even though you know exactly what the object actually is. “I have no clue who could’ve moved it..” He continues, frustration creeping into his voice as you both make your way towards the sports grounds.

As you approach, you catch sight of a pink-haired boy, Yuji Itadori, hurling a heavy metal ball over 30 meters like its nothing. Your jaw drops.

“Woah…” you mutter under your breath. It’s one thing to see it in the anime, but witnessing it in real life? Insane. “That guy is incredible.” Megumi murmurs. “Pulling off that shot with no cursed energy… that’s difficult.”

You nod, silently agreeing.

Suddenly, the boy darts past you and Megumi, moving so fast you almost lose sight of him. An intense burst of cursed energy hits your senses like a slap to the face.

“The presence of a cursed object!” Megumi yells. “Hey, hold it!” He extends an arm towards Yuji, but he’s long gone. You stifle a giggle.

“That’s not funny, (L/N),” Megumi snaps. “Now we’re gonna have to track that guy down!”

“I heard Yuji can run 50 meters in 3 seconds!” Someone nearby says, as you overhear whispers about the boy’s incredible speed. You and Megumi exchange a look of dumbfoundedness.

By the time you follow the trail of cursed energy to the hospital, it was already late evening. You, of course, know this is not where the object you were trying to locate really is—it’s still in the university, but to not risk disrupting the canon, you go along with Megumi anyway. You also know this was the day Yuji’s grandfather had passed away, so you aren’t really looking forward to meeting him under such awful conditions. It feels.. wrong. You reach the hospital, and hang back, taking a seat off to the side, letting Megumi speak to Yuji, their conversation unfolding just as you remember from the anime. There’s no point in interfering, you think.

You observe the interaction neutrally. Megumi explains the concept of curses to a confused Yuji, and warns Yuji how the object he thinks Yuji’s in possession of, is a special-grade cursed object. Yuji, looking nervous, says he doesn’t actually have the object, as you expect, and tosses the box over to Megumi.

“Its.. empty..” Megumi remarks, his tone sharp. Yuji shrugs, and tries to leave the room, but Megumi grabs him by his arm and stops him in his tracks. “Hold it. Where is it?” He demands.

Yuji hesitates, glancing between you on the chair, and Megumi, before admitting “My friends… they’re planning on opening it up tonight, to see what’s inside it.” You stand, crossing your arms. The air is thick, and you feel a frown forming at the corners of your lips.

“Uh.. why? Is that bad?” Yuji asks anxiously, continuing to look between the two of you.

“It’s worse than bad.” Megumi says through gritted teeth. His voice hardens as he continues.

“Your friends are going to die.”

~~~~ cliff-hanger! also, i've attached below some pictures of what a glaive is, if you're unfamiliar. they're very pretty looking, and i thought this would be a badass weapon for MC to have. Lmk any thoughts you have about this chapter, and i'll see you next wednesday!

[purplecoffee13]

Mr. Sunshine - pt. 1

Summary: Harry is a chipper guy with a dimpled smile, amazing coffee, and a need for a tutor. You are a smart girl with an obsession with caffeine and a distaste for people. Harry is infatuated with you from the day he met you, and now he’s determined to spend more time, even if that means bribing you with coffee.

Wc: 2.5k

Tropes: grumpy!MC x sunshine!Harry (based off this ask)

Warnings: none. (for now *evil snicker*)

A/N: tumblr won’t let me add a picture for some reason, but just know that I was going to add the one of dunkirk!Harry in an orange sweater and green pants, leaned against the wall with his jaw clenched as he looks at a guy’s phone. I love that picture of him. Okay, anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

Harry Styles has been obsessed with you from the very first year of Uni. He was paired with you and two other people on a sociology project, and since then, he has been enamored with everything about you.

It wasn't like your charm took him over. If anything, your silent glare is what drew him in. You guys seemed to have the laziest project partners because they barely helped, and whatever suggestions they did have were absolutely useless.

You were a quiet girl. Not necessarily because you were shy, but because you simply didn't feel like talking. You would usually say no more than ten sentences during a group meeting, but everything you did say was always of substance.

The first time you were alone with Harry, it was in the library, where you were supposed to have a group meeting to revise each other's work that you had all divided up. Harry and you were the only ones who actually showed up, and ended up revising each other's, and then the others' work that they had sent via e-mail.

Harry had never laughed harder than that day.

The comments you made while revising their work were so witty and sharp. Their work was incredibly bad, most of the spelling was even wrong. It was quite literally a train wreck, but your quick mindedness kept Harry's dimples on display.

You hadn't even tried to be funny, and you had never experienced someone actually liking what you said and being interested in it. It made you feel weird.

After that, you were sure you would never see Harry again. He was on the rugby team, very popular with the ladies and seemed to have a busy schedule with all the parties he went to. You weren't a stalker, but your roommate couldn't stop talking about him ever since they hooked up somewhere in the first month of uni. She was determined to go to every party Harry went to, as an attempt to sleep with him again, and Y/N had to hear all about it. She was glad her roommate graduated last year, her new roommate was way nicer anyway.

You didn't go to parties. It wasn't like you hadn't tried; you went to three parties in the first week. But that turned out to be the worst decision of your entire life... oh well, that's wasn't the point. The point was, there was no scenario in which you would ever cross paths with Harry again. Except that there was, apparently.

After the summer, fresh in your second year, you entered the auditorium for the introduction class for second years. It was nothing special, just a little welcome back with a presentation on what to expect for this year.

You decided to sit at the front. The louder people usually sat in the back, so you wouldn't be bothered here anyway. You had comfortably taken a seat in the first row, knowing many people would be too weirded out to sit so up close anyway. But about five minutes before orientation begin, you heard the seat next to you creak, and Harry Styles sat down next to you.

"Hi." He smiled at you.

"Hey." You greeted him back, glancing at the podium to see how long it would take for the presentation to start. You hated chit chat, and you knew he could talk a lot.

"How was your summer?" He asked, ever so polite. That was one thing about Harry, he was always nice and sweet. It didn't exactly go with his college reputation, but you also didn't expect any differently from him.

"Oh, just peachy." You said in a bit of a monotone voice, leaning back into your seat, and keeping your eyes fixated on the screen even though there was nothing to see yet. You were in no interest to keep this conversation going. You had chosen the bloody front seats for god's sake!

"Good to hear." Harry grinned at your sarcastic response, turning his head to the podium alike. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about your beautiful face and your ability to give him a stomach ache from laughing all summer. When he saw you sitting alone, he knew it was the perfect opportunity to approach you.

There was about ten seconds of silence, ten beautiful and peaceful seconds. But then it started. That nagging feeling inside of you, and it didn't take you two more seconds before you succumbed to it.

"How was your summer?" You said so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. Harry's head shot your way, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" You heard the amusement in Harry's tone, and you immediately regretted ever speaking up. You turned your head to him with a fake smile.

"I said, how was your summer, Harry?"

Wow, he liked that.

You had never said his name before, not even when you were in that group project with him. Harry only realized that now that his name fell from your lips. Now, he was definitely going to try and make you say his name more. He liked the way it just rolled off your tongue, even though saying that sentences seemed like a bit of a struggle.

"Why, thank you for asking Y/N! My summer was splendid." He said with an overly excited tone that made you want to push him out of the chair.

"Good to hear." You repeated his words in a murmur. Another few empty seconds went by, and you felt like you had fulfilled your duty. Now you wouldn't have to feel guilty about being impolite, and—

"Yeah, I mean, I went to this surf camp somewhere in Portugal. It was pretty cool. And after that, I went to the Amalfi Coast for a week and a half. Have you ever been to the Amalfi Coast, Y/N? Because I hadn't, and honestly it was even better than I expected. A little touristy though, but I guess that just had mostly to do with the season."

Oh my god. Your face paled. He wouldn't stop talking. Uninterrupted, he kept yapping on and on about this surf camp and the Italian cuisine for three minutes. It were the longest minutes of your life.

But you didn't shush him. You weren't sure why. You knew he was doing this to tease you, but a part of you didn't want to be disrespectful and cut him off. He was the only one who had actually delivered work and showed up to every meeting last year, and he had been nothing but nice to you. So, despite him being an annoying pain in the ass, you decided to just let him talk.

Harry couldn't believe you just let him talk.

He was waiting for you to shut him down, but you didn't. He was able to keep going until the presentation begun. And although you didn't give any verbal input nor did you look at him the entire time he was speaking, he still couldn't believe you let him annoy you without even so much as a death glare. He had never been happier about being ignored.

He kept quiet for the orientation, but it took no longer than fifteen minutes before the presentation ended and everyone was free to go. You took your time with packing your notebook into your bag, mainly to avoid the crowd at the exit.

Harry was waiting until you'd stand up, to walk out of class together, but his friends mobbed him and pulled him along to go and get beer for some king of party that same night. He could've killed his friends. He felt like he blew his shot with you now, but he wasn't going to give up.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

*four weeks later*

You stare at the styrofoam cup in Harry's hands, a bored frown on your face as you look from the cup up at him.

"I bought you coffee." He says. His voice seems relaxed, but there is a hint of stress behind it that you can detect for some reason.

"I didn't ask." You reply in a bored tone, taking the cup out of his hands and taking a sip. Caramel Macchiato. "Thank you."

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up, and he takes a seat besides you on the park bench. His arm is stretched out behind you, and he turns his entire body towards you. You, however, keep reading your book just like you were doing before he pushed that delicious coffee in your face.

"Y/N." Harry tried to grab your attention, but you keep your eyes fixated on the book.

"Harry." You echo his name.

"You would say we're friends, right?"

"I would not."

"Yes we are." Harry chuckles, but he sounds a bit defensive. You finally look up at him, your face stern as ever.

"I don't think we qualify as friends. Maybe acquaintances." You shake your head.

"We sit next to each other in every class we have together. You like me and we're friends, just admit it, Y/N." He teases. He knows you two are friends, but you are too stubborn to call it a friendship. He also knows that stems from the fact that you haven't had many friends, and thus it is not some kind of way to hurt his feelings.

"I tolerate you."

"You love me."

"You're just lucky I haven't pushed you off this bench."

"There's no point in denying it, Y/N." He dramatically sighs, and you clench your teeth at his toothy grin. You roll your eyes and go back to reading your book. You have learned over the last four weeks that it is best to ignore him. Kind of like a puppy. It stops misbehaving once your turn your back to it.

"So, now that we've established that we are best friends forever, I wanted to ask you a favor."

There we go, you knew there was a catch to this ridiculously good caramel macchiato. Seriously, where did he buy this?

"No." You instantly reply.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask yet."

"If it involves you then I want no part in it."

"Oi! Now that's not how it works, silly! Being friends means you want to be around each other. That's the difference between friends and strangers." He over explains it to you like he would to a child, lightly patting you on your shoulder.

You let out a big sigh, then shut your book and open your bag, getting ready to leave. Harry is being too annoying today; his chipper energy always throws you off. You get up and walk away, taking another sip of the coffee he bought for you. The warm liquid is so smooth and sweet, sugary but just the right amount.

Fuck...

You stop in your tracks, and turn around, walking back to Harry. He is surprised to see you returning to him, and his stomach tenses up out of excitement.

"Where did you get this." You point at the coffee in your right hand. Harry slouches a bit, his legs spread wide. Your eyes accidentally trail off to his legs, but you quickly regain your focus. This is not what that's about— why did you even do that?

Harry, however, has a shit eating grin on his face. He noticed it, the distraction in your eyes. Bingo, he thought. That was his sign.

"Tutor me, and I'll tell you." Harry throws the offer straight on the table.

That's what he came to ask you? Jesus Christ...

"Why?"

"I can't make sense of literature class. I need your help. You're good at writing, I saw the grade you got on that first paper."

He's right, you are good at writing. You've always loved literature and all the theories that came with it. It kind of came with being a loner, you guessed. Or maybe you are such a loner because of your preference of books over people. That thought threw you for a loop, but you quickly got out of your head.

You weigh out the pros and cons of tutoring Harry. You wouldn't ask him for money, because you feel like you know him too well for that. Plus, it just feels like ripping him off, especially when it comes to tutoring literature theories. So what other pros are there besides him bringing you coffee? None. The cons consist of quite literally everything else that comes with tutoring Harry: the free time that you have to dedicate to him, his loud presence, him...

"If you bring me one of these to every session, I will help you." You say, going against your own better judgment. Harry's eyes light up.

Your brain scrambles to understand why you are feeling so opposed to rejecting Harry in any sense of the word, but you can't seem to figure out where the pit in your stomach comes from any time you want to be mean to Harry.

"Really?" He asks in pure disbelief.

"Don't question it, I'll change my mind."

"You're right, you're right." He throws his hands up, a sliver of stress flashing over his face that makes you want lift up the corners of your mouth. Harry gets up and puts his arms around you. You just stand there, one arm stretched out, trying to protect your coffee.

"What are you doing?" You ask, an uncomfortable frown on your face.

"I'm hugging you."

"Well don't. You're separating me from my coffee." You say, and Harry laughs at the strained sound of your voice. He is smiling at you once pulled out of the hug.

"Alright, I've got to split. We'll text about when and where?" He asks, slinging his book bag over shoulder. He turns around to walk away, but he looks back when you speak up again.

"You don't have my number." You say, to yourself just as much as to him.

"Don't worry about it." He calls out and disappears into the distance before you can say another word.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

*5 hours later*

Unknown number:

Hey teach. Told you not to worry about it ;)

You:

Is this the part where I file a police report?

Unknown Number:

If you never want to see that caramel macchiato again, then be my guest.

Anyways, I was thinking about wednesday at 4. That a good time for you, teach?

You:

Not if you keep calling me 'teach'.

Unknown Number:

Right. I'll let you choose another nickname. You have the choice between: buttercup, peanut, or cuddle cakes.

You:

You know what, I'll find that coffee place by myself.

Unknown Number:

Ah, c'mon. I threw cuddle cakes in there especially for you. Personally, I prefer ‘munchkin’.

Y/N? Wednesday work for you?

Hello?

Okay fine sorry, I'll bring the coffee and I won’t call you cuddle cakes.

Please reply, I'm desperate.

You:

Yes, I can see that from the four consecutive texts.

Unknown Number:

:)

You:

Wednesday's fine. See you then.

Unknown Number:

Great. See you then sweet cheeks.

You:

I'm blocking you.

Unknown Number:

Blocking me is blocking the access

to that caramel macchiato.

*seen*

See you Wednesday ;)

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Brief use of the n-word.  Some Fluffy, Goofiness and a little bit of Smutty Goodness to send you on your way. Imagine One Shot, or something like that.

MINORS DNI! AT ALL! This is not for you.

Word count: 4,444k | Summary: There was a reason we got 1985 Franklin and not 2024 Franklin. Just imagine the husband wit’ a cellphone. A damn fool. That's what. And Leon a fool to cause he'd be right there wit' him. Like y'all ain't done no kinda work. Tick tockin’ n’shit. Haha ain't he sexy tho' em em em. Mr. Saint Mr. Saint you can get it all, you can get it all. And so without further ado' drum roll please....

A smile itches to make itself visible. You instantly become playful because he's playful, and his antics are infectious. “Franklin. Why you got it on black and white mode?” you ask, tilting your head just shy of youthful curiosity. You contend yourself with discovering just why he does things, but the mystery keeps you apt. The camera zooms in on his face, then zooms out. “Cuz we classic babe,” he says, a hint of laughter in his otherwise sexy voice. “We old school. Ain't that right Lee?” 

You wait. Noise from the camera indicates it’s changing direction. The view turns on a cornrow Leon dressed up in his plaid regular, briefly. “Yeah. Nigg-,” he says, giving a wave off, ever moving. His demeanor is not as enthused. You hear Franklin suck his teeth and watch the biggest grin emerge on his face as he turns the phone on himself again. “You know how it go beautiful. Niggas be camera shy n’shit.” 

A laugh escapes because he's horrible with angles. You shake your head and sigh. “Hey, Lee wassup,” you call into the phone. Although he's out of sight, his voice comes in on the speaker from somewhere like an echo. The room they are in must be huge! “Nothin much,” he calls back. “Just here wit’ yo’ annoying’ ass Husband. Glad he decided to call you. Gettin’ on my damn nerves. He don’t got nothin’ ta do.” 

You pay attention. The word husband, ringing in your eardrums. This word makes your heart skip. You consider that if you smile any harder your cheeks might begin to ache. You try not to tempt it. They were already brimming with so much happiness and you'd be subject to their sting every time you got flowers, or a text that came through that said a simple good morning. To have that feeling be permanent! You always wanted to be married, someday. If he was really serious, you already had the colors and venue plans decked out on a vision board you'd made in your free time months before. Maybe the manifesting began to take hold. Somewhere secluded but serene. You visualize a place with Mountains in fall with the changing colors to bring life to the special moment. Perfect! The pictures would be gorgeous, you both in white surrounded by color. 

“Husband?” You repeat, not expressing too much excitement, but just enough. “Oh. You said that, Franklin?” You ask.  

The phone is doing a close up on his face again. Part of his nose and one eye fit the entire screen. “Yep. I sure did.” He eludes with confident confirmation that has you smiling. “Imma get you pregnant. Marry you, all that.” 

You chew lightly at your bottom lip. Cheeks, officially sore by the prospect of that happily ever after. Not the one found in story books, but one that fits your story. “Um boooooy, dang, I get a say in any of this?” He shakes his head. His expression is a smug one flashing across the screen. That familiar smirk that always has your knees weak and your heart at a beat of engrossment. Your mind, sharp and steady, hurries to take these photographic moments of him and store them away deep in files within your memory. 

“Naw, you just be happy and taken care of,” he clamors out. “Anyway, How's things at the house?”

You nod your head. “Deal. Things at the house. Oh you know, same ol’ same ol’. Your mama came by. We talked for a while.” 

He smirks, shakes his head. “Oh shit. Bout’ what? What the hell Cissy Saint don’ said now?”

You laugh. “I’mma tell her you be calling her by her government name, watch.” You smack your teeth at his question. “But, nothing. None of ya’ business. Mother in law stuff.” 

“I already know it was bout’ me.”

You purse your lips and lift an eyebrow. “It was actually about plant soil, but M’Kay Franklin.” 

A knock comes through the phone speakers somewhere off in the background possibly to interrupt whatever comeback he’d muster up to say. You watch instead to notice his attention shift. You can’t see what he’s looking at, but he presents more seriously from his side profile.  

“Yeah, wassup. Y'all ready?” You hear Leon’s voice ask. “Aight. Saint. Let’s go,” he says after. You watch him nod then turn to face your view again. “Gotta go. Call you when I'm done. Love you.” 

“Kay. Love you too. Bye,” you say and blow a kiss before the call ends. 

“Baaaaaabe, what ya dooo-in,” he emphasizes zooming out. You watch. The camera lowers. He provides a good view of his outfit. All black. You hold the phone for his entertainment, a display of you on the bed to answer his question visually. Fresh Poetic Justice braids hide underneath the bonnet. Your face, clear of any makeup. A little smile pulls after hearing the playfulness in his voice come back. “Just reading ma lil ol’ book.” Eyes on him, then down where a makeshift bookmark resides in effort to salvage the place left off, you turn to the next page, held tight to the words of the author.

“Show me.” he coos.

“Franklinnnnn….” you plead. His face zooms in. A cunning grin appears on the phone screen. The forefront for your viewing. “Come on,” he says once more, “Show me.” 

You try to stifle a giggle but it escapes despite your efforts. He's handsome, even more with all the goofiness. “Baby move back you to close,” you encourage and with one hand hold the phone up. With the other you lift up the book, trying to angle both just right so he’s able to see. You sneak a peek of his expression. It bestows one of excitement and joy when you put eyes on the phone. 

“Oh shit, you got Toni out tonight? That’s wassup!” 

You nod, smiling. “Yes yes. I was in the mood, and the movie don’t hit like the book do.” 

“What Chapter you on?” 

You hear footsteps, Leon passes by and walks into the other room. “Five,” You answer.

“Chapter five. Chapter five.” He rubs at the hairs on his chin. “Tryna remember what happens in that chapter. Some crazy shit, probably.”

You smack your teeth and roll your eyes, but the smile remains. “Boy stop frontin’ like you read Beloved. You really over there actin’ for ya’ life right now. Doin’ tha most.”

He throws his head back, laughs and repositions the camera. You get a birds eye view of his forehead. “Damn, why you do me like that? But okay okay,” He shifts the view zooming out so that you get a fuller view of where he’s seated. “I haven’t read it. Saw the movie tho’. I’m sure it's about the same. Concept wise.” 

You shrug. “Hm. Maybe. But you know the books are usually always better than the movie.” 

“Yeah. True that.” 

“Franklin baby. Why you be lying so much,” you say, and blink slowly to look at him. 

He laughs. “I’m not. Stop actin’ like the only book she wrote was Beloved. She got other books too.”

You make a face. “Yeah. None of which you’ve read.” 

“I’m not messin’ wit you go head,” he says with a grin and waves you off.

“Stop frontin’ so much then.”

There are seconds when neither of you speak and you take the opportunity to sneak a peek at a few more lines of the paragraph you're on. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Made another tik tok video today.”

You smack your forehead. “Lord, another one, Franklin.” He had been against the entire thing in the beginning, until you both did one of the trending couple dances that you forced on him. Then challenges, and some more dances. A bonafide tik tok monster. “What have I done? You're like, addicted at this point. You already made one the day before.” 

He smiles. “Naw, listen tho’ this one was fire. It’s me makin’ macaroni n’ cheese, babe.”

You hold the phone away from your face so he can’t see the puzzled expression. When you pull it back, it’s still very much present. “Whaaaaaat?”

“Yep.” This time he smiles proudly. “And my mama taught me her recipe, so you know it smacks.” 

You sigh and nod looking into the camera. “Okay. If the recipe came from Mama Cissy then there’s hope. I’mma let you make it for me so I can taste it when you come back home.”

“Shit, hell yeah. And you know what,” he shakes his finger at the phone. “I’mma fry you up some chicken as a bonus.” 

You shoot up from your comfortable position on the bed waving your hand in protest, almost dropping the whole phone in the process. “No, No, you do the macaroni and cheese, I'll do the chicken! We can’t have another grease fire. Almost burnt down my whole kitchen last time. I couldn’t believe you!” 

He sucks his teeth, whining. “How was that on me? Grease got too hot too fast. It’s yo’ stove. That’s the problem. But that’s wrong tho’, how you ban me forever! Like, I could see if it was for a few months, but forever is a stretch. You mean as hell for that babe. I’m actually hurt.” 

His voice didn’t convey hurt, but he put on his puppy dog eyes through the screen. His sad expression, tempting to believe and otherwise nurture, only because he was cute doing such a performance. You fight through the desire of giving in to it, like you always seem to do, to instead this time hold your ground firmly, and clear your throat. “Because Franklin, nun uh. But,” you smack your teeth. “Since when do you cook? That’s my thing. I’m on dinner duty. Not you. Now all of a sudden you wanna audition for Hell’s Kitchen,” you argue. 

A light chuckle leaves him. So much for puppy dog eyes and being hurt. All that out the window. He appears as a man puzzled. “I said that shit as a joke,” he confirms. “You know me and Gordan would throw down. Like the motherfuckin’ spaghetti can only be cooked one way.” The camera zooms out. You get a fuller view of his form. “But hell back to the point, I gotta learn somehow don’t I? How I'm spose to cook for you after I put that baby in you and you all laid up? Huh, answer me that.” He pauses and grins, like the thought stays on his mind as he licks his lips. You can only imagine what he’s thinking. You wonder whose thoughts are nastier. Diving back into your memory files, you consider which position might align with the impregnation. Missionary eye to eye, doggie style had been the favorite so far, but legs thrown over his shoulders just might win the vote, hands down. “DoorDash,” you rebuttal to his sentiment. 

He nods his head, getting up and moving around the hotel room. “You said DoorDash? Wow. That's cold.” The view takes you into a closet while the new moisture in your panties becomes extremely uncomfortable. His Polo shirts hang in the semi empty space and he searches through them, choosing a Royal Blue out of the bunch. “That’s okay. I’ll remember when the zombie apocalypse comes, won't be no damn door dash, ubereats. None of that. I got the last can of green beans too, and I won’t be sharing that shit.” 

You let go a breath of relief and allow your shoulders to sink. Thank your lucky stars that you mastered the art of the poker face. He wasn’t aware that you were still thinking about him fucking you silly. At Least he’d taken the L for his chicken cooking fiasco. Moved on. Zombie's happened to be a simpler subject to dive into, strangely. “Okay so we’ll both starve then,” you interject. “Cause guess who got the can opener Mothersucka’?” 

You stare at each other. Silence on both sides of the phone until he breaks it. 

“Yeah, okay. I got you.” 

You grin. He’s salty. He always is when you win an argument. 

“Have you eaten yet?” You close the book and focus all your attention on him. 

He shakes his head. “Naw. Me and Lee actually bout’ to go down soon. Imma shower real quick and change.” 

“Okay, well I won’t hold you. Eat well. May you have an abundance of green beans before the end. Love ya much, handsome face.” You finish off with your Whitney Houston impression with a taunting sault. He frowns but there is a hint of a smirk attached to it. He almost laughs. “Love you.” 

You, two points. Franklin, zip!

Your phone is propped up on the dresser providing a full view as you dance. The music from your laptop fills the room. “Come on Frank fuck it up. Show off them famous Saint dance moves!” Shoulders bounce, fingers snap and it all becomes a sing along. Your eyes are on him until you turn, letting yourself feel the music. You spread your legs apart and your ass begins to bounce to the beat, cheeks clapping to its rhythm in your fresh black lace panties. “Oh fuck you givin’ me a whole show, okay. Hell yeah,” you hear him yell out against Paul Russell. You laugh and clap your hands as the song ends and grab the phone, throwing yourself on the king size bed in your shared bedroom. Only after you catch your breath do you notice the bowl of deliciousness. “See Franklin. Got my ice cream melting.” You lift up the phone and switch its position with that of the colorful scoops. A banana split you fashioned just for yourself after the late night craving crept up unexpectedly. You grab at the spoon eagerly taking some nuts and whip cream into your mouth. 

A chuckle comes from the phone speakers and you notice a small flash. “How? You the one got up,” he says with enthusiastic sarcasm. 

“Hecks yeah, that’s my song! My lil boo thang. Mmm.” You notice the room he's in is darker with less light filling up the space when you look in the direction of the phone. The flash might have been him turning off a light, or at the very least, dimming it down. You can see a smirk emerge from where you sit on the bed, back propped up by pillows. There's a bit of ruffling on his end. “You ma’ lil boo thang,” he says.  

It's your turn to laugh. “How? That nigga singing about some other dudes girl. You didn't take me from no one,” you run a spoonful of strawberry ice cream over your awaiting tongue. 

“That's not the point. I could if I wanted to.”

You sigh and poke your lips. “ Oh, hush the hell up Franklin, with yo’ cocky self.”

“Am I lyin’? You know you love it over here on team Saint.”

“Whatever,” you say, eating more of the chocolate and rolling your eyes. But you do smile. 

“Hm. See. That ass ain't say no. But anyway. I liked the lil’ dance you did just now. You look sexy in them panties. Those the ones I bought you?”

The compliment had you feeling yourself. “Oh why thank you. And yeah they are actually.” 

His head tilts just slightly with a squint of his eyes. “I thought it was a set?” 

You nod and look down at yourself. “It is. I just like your T-shirts way better though. Especially when you're away.” 

A smirk finds its way on him. “I see.” 

There's some electricity that runs up your spine. Something about his tone is enticing. You clear your throat to change the subject. “So uh, how was the food?” 

The smirk turns into a smile. “Well I didn't have any green beans as you suggested, but the steak was cooked up perfect. Had that and just a side of fries.”

“Hm. No desert?”

You can hear movement on the other end. Probably him shifting his position. “That's usually reserved for dinner, I thought,” he says. 

You toss a glance at the bowl. “Hm. Not always.” You move the phone and hover it above your face. “Especially ice cream. You can have it any time of the day. Now, make that a banana split and I guarantee you'll get your fill. You like banana splits babe?” Grabbing the edge of his shirt you slowly start to move it up and up until your belly button is exposed, then even further to rest right under your chest. 

“Yeah, I like um,” he licks his lips. “What you doin'?”

How long had it been? You could count the days. Too long. Long enough that you would remove his shirt and your panties, the ones belonging to the set he'd bought, to lay butt ass naked in front of a phone camera. Desperate times, you couldn't take how much of a temptation he became throughout the day. You point your toes as if to model for him, your legs moving in slow motion as your hands begin to explore. The camera tracks this entire process until you position it on the dresser, creating for him a more open view of the bed and you.  

“What do you like about um?” 

You change your voice. Much more sensual. A way to get his attention as you ignore his question and ask more of your own. “What's your favorite part?” You dip your finger and run it through from flavor to flavor. “It's got so many elements to it.” You sit the two fingers on your neck and drag. Your breath doing a hiss from the coldness. You bite at your bottom lip and shut your eyes with a continuous motion of your fingers to the top of your titties. “And the best part, you can design it how you want it. Three scoops, chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.” The heat from your body makes the clump cascade in drips running over the fullness of your breast and some over your nipples. “Chocolate drizzle,” you moan. “A little caramel. Whipped cream. Nuts. So many nuts.” 

“Oh damn. You tryna make a mess. What about the banana?” His voice is different too. Much more involved and curious like pressing you for what might come next. You grin and turn your head to glance at him. “Oh your right, how can I forget the banana?” You face the opposite side where the bowl sits on the bed and pick it up. “That's gotta be my favorite part,” you utter, moving it over your skin. “The texture. It's fullness. The way it feels in my hand.” First it touches over your legs, then the inner thighs. You part your knees and run the furthest end over your exposed clit. 

“Shit, for real…” 

You don’t know what this answer is pertaining to, either in relation to your favorite part of a Sundae, or his reaction to seeing a banana slink over your pussy so eloquently. Either way, the breath he’s let out tells you if he wasn’t already locked in for the ride you were planning to take him, he definitely is at this point. 

“Mmhmm. And you know what,” you whisper.

“What,” he utters in response. 

“It's even better, coated in cream.” You lift your hand, take one end and dip it into the ice and whipped cream, already beginning to melt. When you pull it back out, the white decorates its tip and a bit of its length. You move it slowly toward your lips. Some little drips happen along the way that only roll down your skin as a result. “I remember how you taste Franklin. How your warm cream felt sliding down my throat right before you left.” Finally the tip reaches your plump lips. You part them as the end inserts inside your welcoming mouth, more and more to the back of your throat. You can hear him, noises, a hum, or maybe a moan. You don’t look to confirm any suspicions, instead your smile wraps around the banana once you hear the struggle he's having with his belt. 

You do your best to breathe through it, your mouth now pooling with saliva mingled with the cream as the tip reaches back and tickles at your uvula. A hum of satisfaction at his breathy approval before you start to bob your head. The Saliva and cream stretch as the sensual sounds of sloppy head fill up the room. To busy filling up your throat, you give your free hand its own job to do. What a feeling of bliss to comfort  such tense muscles. You pretend it's his hand that's touching you so tenderly as you listen to his breathing from your end of the phone. Because you see his face and hear his voice, the sensation is more intense when you glance over. All those elements help push for more pleasure. You pull the banana, cream runs down the side of your mouth. “Ahhh, I love feeling you inside me, both ways.” 

“You love it baby.” 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ love it.” Your eyes sink down to your pussy, fingers trailing gently along the slick opening. With your mouth full again, this hot smoldering sensation courses up your spine. You gasp against the weight of the banana and repeat the motion. The sensation served only to grow. An involuntary shiver, the aftermath as his voice encourages you, keep going. Slick, and tight, your clit jots out hardened by arousal, and you do indulge her. His voice triggers the reaction. “Go a lil deeper for me.” So you add another finger to caress your mound, this time slowly, with more pressure applied to your bundle of nerves. A warmth explodes within you and numbs your legs. The desire intensifies. You roll your eyes back in effort to suppress a moan. It's stopped anyway by the blockage. Another push and the slight hit makes you gag. You pull it's end and even more saliva and cream break free as you try to catch your breath. 

The yearning building up in your throbbing center causes you lose interest in the banana and cry out his name, “Franklinnnnn, Mmmmmm…yessss.” All the blood in your legs runs to your pussy, steaming it. And not even the cold from the ice cream can cool it when you dip your hand to apply more, over the surface of your naked body. You are literally burning from the inside. You lift a finger into your mouth and begin to suck and taste your juices mixed with all different flavors. 

“Got damnnnn, baby.” His voice comes in, encouraging you to return pleasure onto yourself again. Moistened from your suckling, the same finger slowly descends downwards and strokes against your tingling bud. The moment your fingertip touches your sensitive core, a loud husky moan of pleasure erupts from your mouth and you shiver slightly as a result. As your fingers dive into your tight, sticky hot cavern, you shut your eyes. Your stroke harder, faster, with a sense of urgency. Moan in this unbridled ecstasy to buck your hips against pleasuring fingers. Yours, but you pretend they are his. “ Fuck your beautiful. I always love the way you taste….I wanna taste you so fuckin’ bad right now it hurts. Lick all that off. Bet that shits hella tight to,” he breathes out. 

With those words and the addition of your name coming in right after, you can almost feel him groaning against your slick lips. If he wasn’t really about his business, he might catch the next plane back home. You were pretty much a living breathing human sundae ready to be devoured, and you wanted so desperately to feel his warm tongue taste every place where the ice cream had run. So you moan, and rest your head back on one of the pillows with that image. “Give ma’ girls some attention…” Pulling at your nipples and needing your breast, you do as instructed. You start panting. You feel a surge of wetness. The very same sensation that came when you thought about all the past positions he'd had you in. “Franklin, I'm almost there…” The vibration of fingers, the wild thoughts swirling, and the fact you can hear him pleasuring himself, moves you closer to orgasm. It doesn't take much. You feel this ripple at your sweet spot. You ride it, bucking your hips while your inner walls squeeze tight, your legs slump down against the mattress, trembling before they go completely, lifeless. 

Closing your eyes to hold the state of euphoria, you catch the sound of his elaborate breathing almost identical to your own. It calms, little by little. 

“Fuuuuck. Didn’t realize how much I needed that, babe.”

You smile but keep your eyes shut to drag your hand and lay it on your stomach, coated by the aftermath of release. “Me too,” you offer as a light murmur and wipe your mouth. With a satisfied sigh you lean over to grab the phone and watch his expression go from happy and otherwise calm to indifferent. You lift your head in concern. 

“Hey. What's wrong?” 

“Nothin’. Just wish I could be there, cuddled up.” He pauses. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too. But soon, like four more days and you’ll be back home. We can do us a reply, only in person.” You sit up. “It won’t be forever. And even if it was,” you smile. “I’d wait for you.” 

A grin blossoms and finds its way back on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, duh. I’m wifey, remember.” you say to reiterate, laugh and look at the ice cream, completely melted into liquid form. “Well, I should probably hop in the shower before I get all sticky. I’ve already made quite the mess. I’ll call you in the morning.” You snap your fingers at a sudden realization. “Or, damn time difference, you call me? That way I don't interfere with business.” You pull the sheet, toss it aside and stand to your feet. Your bare chest, partially in view. 

“Wait. Take me wit’ you.”

You hold the phone up. “Where?” 

“To the shower.” He has the nerve to look you up and down. Turns out you had a certain charm in creating monsters. “I wanna see the clean up process,” he smirks. “Got about thirty more minutes until my next meet up.” 

The grin on your face begins to grow. You look at the life of your battery. 53%. Just enough for a little bit more Saint FaceTime. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING.  -Wide Nose And Wonderful.

Taglist: @fairy-cores-world @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr @slippinninque

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Castle Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

"Give me your heart."

I place my fingertips on the black heart on his chest as I lean forward–

The black hue underneath my palm gradually fades away, replaced by a red glow identical to the gemstone on my chest.

When someone's heart is taken, they become the Queen's loyal and devoted toy.

However, only a Queen bound by shackles can take someone else's heart.

Translation under the cut!

T/N: This date has a theme that is a kind of continuation to his latest solo SSR Strategy Game Date. So please read it if you haven’t!

Special thanks to ivi (@ivioivioivi on twitter) for helping me with the translation of this date~

✂———————–

[Subbed Video]

✂———————–

[Transcript Ver]

=[Part 1]=

?? (Lucien): [narrating] "Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled the whole kingdom."

?? (Lucien): "The Queen had many, many toys. She lived in a castle and lived with her toys."

?? (Lucien): "At the Halloween party, the Queen was so bored! So… she decided to play a new game."

?? (Lucien): "She gathered all the toys and told them to find what they desired most in their hearts within the castle."

?? (Lucien): "'The first toy to find it can gain freedom.' The Queen sat on her throne and announced to all the toys."

?? (Lucien): "But how could the Queen possibly know what each toy desired the most?"

?? (Lucien): "Of course... because the Queen knows everything!"

Lucien: "Now then... let the game begin. But be warned, don't get caught by the Queen during your search…"

Lucien: "...or you'll never be able to leave this castle for the rest of your life——"

MC: [sweating nervously] Lucien, wait... just hold on a second! Let's talk about it after we run to a safe place!

Eerie and urgent footsteps circle endlessly behind as if crazed hands are about to reach out from the darkness, savagely seizing everything.

I don't have time to immerse myself in the joy that lit up my eyes upon finding Lucien as I instinctively obey my fear and start to run.

But the person beside me remains calm and unhurried, smiling as if he's just taking a stroll in an ancient castle.

Lucien: I hope my task requirements haven’t made you feel troubled.

Lucien: My identity card says I need to finish telling this story within 5 minutes of meeting another player.

As his words fall, along with the hurried footsteps behind me, a short but slightly piercing alarm sounds from somewhere unknown.

Lucien: [chuckles] Otherwise, my game will be declared a failure.

The alarm sounds again.

MC: What does this alarm mean...? Did what you just said violate the rules on the identity card?

He smiles without a word, seeming to agree with my judgment.

MC: This is a bit too immersive! Why doesn’t my identity card have any tasks on it?

Despite my complaints, my running footsteps don't stop, and the silent doors repeatedly block my escape routes.

We twist and turn through the old castle until a "click" rings out, nearly making me cry in surprise.

The eerie footsteps grow louder beside my ear. The soles of the shoes rub against the slightly worn carpet, making a rough scraping sound, like sharp nails scratching against my eardrum.

In the darkness, I hold my breath, and that nerve-wracking sound seems to slowly fade away into the night.

I let out a breath of relief, and as I look up, I bump straight into a pair of deep, enigmatic eyes.

The room is cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight, yet his eyes, glimmering with a hidden smile, shine even brighter.

The smoky black makeup extends into delicate marks of mischief, like dried tear stains or the playful strokes of a child’s crayon.

His usually soft hair is now slicked back, the ends styled into slightly unruly arcs that accentuate his sharp jawline.

The black and white suit amplifies the elegant yet bizarre aura, yet it feels perfectly natural on Lucien.

MC: This place did an incredible job with the styling. Once we’re done, I’m definitely filling my entire album with photos of Mr. Jester.

This Halloween, Lucien and I booked a super popular immersive escape room game. Although it’s only for two players, the activity spans an entire large castle.

The script for the game is assigned based on a playing card drawn a week before the game starts. It focuses on a highly immersive experience, and I’ve heard there are dozens of different endings depending on players' choices.

[T/N: Since the script is based on playing cards. Lucien himself might have drawn the Joker card. However, since there's already another Joker in the game, my translation goes with Mr. Jester 😂. In many card games, the Joker acts as a wild card, so I think Lucien getting this role fits with his character 👀]

MC: No, I should say I never expected the 'Queen's toys' to be so plentiful and appealing—and there's also Mr. Jester!

Lucien: I think it's this beautiful doll lady before me that truly makes it impossible to look away.

Our bodies, already pressed together from hiding, are pulled even closer by him. His warm fingertips stroke my cheek, then trail slowly down my neck in a delicate caress.

Lucien: [whispers] The Queen has instructed the toys to seek what they desire most in their hearts. If it were me...

Lucien: ...then surely what I desire most must be right here before my eyes.

=[Part 2]=

Of course, those are just Lucien’s jesting words to tease me. The game is still going on after all.

After my makeup is finished, the staff simply tells me that my identity is ‘Miss Puppet’ and then leads me into the old castle.

If we are all so-called ‘Queen's Toys’, then according to the fairy tale Lucien just recounted…

MC: "Find what the toys desire most in their hearts within this castle…"

MC: That means we need to find the props in this castle that correspond to our identities, and then we should be able to win the game.

But then I have second thoughts, and look at Lucien who is being a bit too mysterious on the side.

MC: "The first toy to find it can gain freedom."

MC: Does that mean that in this game with just the two of us, there can only be one winner?

Meeting my gaze, he leans lightly against the door and smiles lightly.

Lucien: Does this doll lady want to gain freedom?

Lucien's words aren't laced with much emotion; instead, they hold a kind of faint scrutiny and enjoyment that stands outside of winning and losing. 

It seems that more than victory or defeat, he takes pleasure in the interesting developments he's "created" throughout this whole process.

Enveloped by his permeating silent arrogance, I, on the contrary, subtly curl the corners of my lips into a smile and lean closer to him.

MC: Compared to freedom, I'd rather not let a certain Mr. Jester get too bored.

MC: Furthermore, I enjoy a challenge and am prepared to put in all my effort to win.

I gently graze his cheek with my fingertips, letting myself sink into the depths of his profound and mysterious eyes.

MC: You better be a bit more serious, okay?

MC: Otherwise... be careful not to get left behind in this castle~

Lucien: …

His eyes seem to freeze for a fleeting moment, but they fill with even more smiles in the next instant.

Lucien: [chuckles] Then this Miss Puppet will have to put in a lot of effort.

Lucien: After all, leaving you all alone in the castle would make me feel terribly lonely.

✂———————–

After issuing a ‘declaration of challenge’, naturally, it's necessary to seek more information.

But this castle is much larger than I imagined. Even though many rooms can't be opened, it'll still take considerable time to investigate the rest.

At the same time, the occasional sounds of clockwork and footsteps add a touch of horror to this dilapidated old castle.

The sounds of footsteps varied, sometimes intense and frightening, and at other times merely a soft, creeping rustle across the floor, creating noises that grate on the nerves.

Lucien: Looks like the party is going well.

MC: This means... the other 'toys' are also searching for things that are important to them, right?

Facing my interpretation, Lucien curls his lips without a word. At this moment, I finally vaguely confirm a certain boundary to Lucien's words.

In our earlier exchanges, there were two instances where he clearly mentioned the task settings for ’this game,' which triggered warning alarms both times.

Moreover, throughout all his interactions and expressions, he has been entirely restricted to addressing me as a 'puppet'.

This indicates that although I still can't further confirm what prop Lucien desires as the ‘Jester’, his words are still an important way for me to obtain information.

MC: Mr. Jester, shall we cooperate for the time being?

MC: There are a lot of rooms here. Given that we don't have much information, I think working together would be more efficient.

MC: There should be other rooms we can open on this floor. How about we each take half and then combine the information?

Lucien: You trust me that much?

Just as his voice falls, a sharp warning sound rings again.

Lucien freezes momentarily, ponders for a while, then nonchalantly lifts his lips into a smile as he looks at me, seemingly waiting for my answer.

MC: Indeed, if you hide any information, I wouldn't notice it.

MC: But luck also plays a part in the outcome. Whoever finds the key clue naturally has the conditions for victory.

MC: Besides, who’s to say it won’t be me hiding the information instead?

Lucien: …

Under the moonlight, Lucien smiles as he leans down and gently lifts my fingertips.

Lucien: Please allow me to apologize for my recent discourtesy.

The moment his thin lips lightly touch the back of my hand, I feel as if I can hear the sound of my heartbeat.

Lucien: Good luck to you, beautiful Miss.

✂———————–

Accompanied by chilling footsteps, Lucien and I begin searching the castle.

Most of the rooms I can access are incredibly shabby, but fortunately, I'm still managing to gather a number of clues.

Using clues from the diaries of some other toys, I quickly identify several key-seeming props mentioned in them and hide those props.

MC: I found a page from a fairy tale, and the content matches what you said earlier.

MC: But it's been ripped out of a book, which means there's a complete version of the story.

Lucien: According to the map, this villa has three floors. The first floor consists of the lobby, reception room, and toy display room, while the Queen’s bedroom is on the third floor.

Lucien: The second floor is fairly special. It has dozens of rooms, and the room numbers aren't in order.

MC: I have a feeling those rooms belong to the toys.

As I speak, I unfurl half of the kraft paper scroll towards him, revealing the words "Toy List".

The paper is filled in symbols of various shapes that look like a child's freehand doodles, each with numbers like "201", "205", "219" written beside them.

MC: There are 13 of these symbol and number combinations, so I'm guessing...the Queen has 13 toys in total.

MC: Corresponding to the 13 rooms on the second floor.

Lucien: It seems our objectives have become quite clear.

MC: That's right. Once we figure out which symbols correspond to which toy, we can use the map to find the rooms.

MC: Do you think... that 'Toy Display Room' might have the answers?

Faced with this probing question, Lucien doesn't respond but simply looks at me deeply as I shake the kraft paper.

In the next second, he lightly flicks his fingers––

A silver key sways and gleams faintly beneath the moonlight.

Lucien: I’m curious too.

I never thought that Lucien would just happen to have the key to the toy display room in his hand.

However, in this kind of adversarial game, having one more condition to compete with him is never bad.

And now, I’m indeed lucky to have made the right bet.

The night seems to grow even darker, and the eerie footsteps cast long, strange shadows, flowing like water past our feet, then slowly fading away.

With a 'click' sound, I follow behind Lucien and walk into the toy display room.

Only the moonlight remains inside the room, falling onto the staggered display stands, where toys of various shapes are placed.

The toys sit quietly in this somewhat rundown room as if they are waiting for someone.

I gently pick up the toys and notice that each has a familiar symbol emblazoned on its body and a heart-shaped hollow on its chest.

I quietly ponder for a moment, and instead of saying anything, I continue searching.

Soon I spot a puppet on the display table at the edge of the room, dressed in the same clothes as mine, except this puppet has a wooden puppet control bar and strings attached to it.

MC: …Wooden control bar?

An inexplicable 'click' sound occurs when I pick up the puppet.

I look at the symbol on the doll in my hand with confusion, my mind spinning.

Is it a similar doll? Or is there another reason? Thinking this, I open the scroll and begin searching for clues.

Suddenly, I freeze.

No matter how many times I check, I can't find the same symbol as the one on the puppet.

But after cross-checking the symbols with the other toys in front of me, I subconsciously hold my breath——

Dachshund spring toy, toy soldier, plush bird, roly-poly toy, carousel, feather pen…

The 13 symbols on the toy list correspond precisely to the 13 toys.

My gaze slowly moves to the figure under the moonlight; the master's smooth fingertips carefully caress the marionette that looks like me.

Then, as if sensing something, he indifferently looks back.

There is no jester toy in this room.

=[Part 3]=

The missing jester, the extra marionette.

At this moment, Lucien and I seem like some kind of aberrant existence.

Neither of us is the Queen’s toy—I immediately come to this judgment.

Then who am I? And who is Lucien?

Could it be that he secretly hid some more important information?

Meanwhile, Lucien also seems to have realized my judgment.

But he still unhurriedly fiddles with the marionette in his hand while gracefully walking up the steps.

Lucien: The Queen hosts a fun-filled party with all her toys.

Lucien: The toys search for what they desire most—ah, it’s their beloved Queen.

He gives a small bow, and as his words fall, a red balloon floats out of nowhere.

I unconsciously grab it, only to see more and more red balloons appearing, until eventually, all that remains are that pair of captivating eyes.

Lucien: So... ultimately, is it the Queen who captures the toys, or the toys who get the Queen?

His voice lingers near my ear, only to dissolve into the moonlit night instantly, along with his disappearing figure.

Following that, the sound of footsteps coming nearer and nearer, yet also more and more numerous.

I don't have time to consider when Lucien learned magic tricks; I immediately run out of the display room through the opened door. 

Those intrigued eyes are firmly imprinted in my mind. This person is playing this game with me very seriously; I can't let him down.

His identity as a jester is definitely not simple, and I... could I be the puppet representing the 'Queen'?

Lucien's words from just now seem to linger in my ears as if hinting. After thinking for a moment, I immediately run carefully toward the third floor.

I've been here before, but the door is firmly locked, and I never found the corresponding key.

Remembering the mechanical sound when I picked up the puppet, I can't help but decide to take a gamble.

Facing the silent door, I take a deep breath and press the door handle down with force—

'Click.'

MC: …As expected!

The pleasure of solving the puzzle makes me feel confident, and I go in cautiously.

The shabby room can't hide its luxury. The large bed is covered with an exquisite embroidered sheet, and the red velvet bed curtains reveal faint patterns.

The fireplace no longer burns, and the vase no longer shines, like servants who, though dejected after being left by their master, still maintain a dignified demeanor.

The walls, covered in cobwebs, are adorned with many picture frames.

But these frames don't contain any scenery or photos—

Instead, they contain all kinds of hearts, big and small. 

I quietly observe them for a long time before continuing to rummage through the room.

Soon, I find an old, yellowed book on the bedside table, with one page torn out.

With the help of light from the moon, I flip through it.

MC: "The Jester laughed loudly, proclaiming that the Queen was bored. She lifted the hem of her bright red dress and decided to play a game..."

MC: "A game of escape."

I realize in hindsight that something's not quite right.

Why is there a marionette with a wooden control bar and strings in the toy display room?

Marionette isn't on the toy list, so what does the symbol on it represent?

Suddenly, I freeze.

——it is Lucien's hint.

Just now, he guided me into thinking I was the Queen, leading me here. But if I really were the Queen, I would be very different from the one in the display room.

MC: As a toy… I'm a marionette.

MC: But the strings on me have already gone.

The toy’s escape is also the Queen’s escape.

At that moment, even though the room is clearly silent, I inexplicably feel as if someone is watching me.

From the very beginning, that gaze has been fixed on me, and all my actions are under his "control."

At this moment, I already understand who the owner of those footsteps outside the door is. After avoiding those searching "toys" and reaching the second floor—

there is a door that has always been tightly shut. Now, it opens its arms wide as if it has been waiting for a long time.

Scratches appear on the door, revealing a symbol identical to the one on the puppet's body.

I hold my breath tightly, expecting to see a familiar figure inside, but instead, I find the room completely empty.

To be safe, I close the door first and then step inside.

As expected, the entire room has already been searched.

A metal box lies on the ground, completely empty inside, with the opened lock quietly lying beside it.

[T/N: So the prop that Lucien needs—the strings and control bar, and possibly the marionette that looks like her—has already been taken by him.]

MC: ….

Am I really going to lose?

As if in response to my heart, the footsteps outside the door stop at the entrance with the sound of a clockwork.

At this moment, I understand why this door is open.

This is an invitation for ‘me’ to take the initiative to step into this cage controlled by him.

There's nowhere to go but through that door.

In the end, I have no choice but to take the initiative to open the door myself, offering myself as a sacrifice and presenting him with a delicious victory.

But I don't want to lose yet.

I stop in front of the door, even holding onto a sliver of luck as I lean toward the peephole, trying to find any possibility of escape—

Lucien: Good evening, dear miss.

Red balloons float mid-air in a green corridor, and a candle burns suspended in the air as if they’re part of a grand illusory melody.

Layer upon layer of cobwebs hang down, and twisted pumpkins are painted black and white.

In the absurd and mysterious world, Lucien raises the corners of his lips, his eyes with painted black tear streaks curving slightly.

He lifts his hand, inclining slightly in a gentlemanly bow as though taking a final curtain call.

Lucien: "A long, long time ago, there was a Queen who ruled an entire kingdom."

Lucien: "The Queen had many toys, and she lived with her toys in a castle."

The graceful yet dangerous jester tells the story again, but he carries it further this time.

Lucien: "But the toys could never get the Queen."

Lucien: "The party ended, and no one gained their freedom."

He smiles gently, and the flickering, dancing candle flames seem to sway excitedly without stopping, yet at the same time, the melting wax flows down like tears.

Lucien: "And so…The party went on, and the Queen, feeling extremely bored, intended to play a new game."

MC: …Is that the full story?

Lucien: No.

Lucien: This story will go on forever.

MC: Why?

Hearing my voice, Lucien puts away his smile.

That pair of profound and mysterious eyes unusually ooze with a hint of long-forgotten coldness, resembling a dark and gloomy sea.

The blood-red balloons are tethered in place and can only swing their body from side to side.

Yet I can clearly see the black tear mark slowly lengthening.

Lucien: Because... 'I' said so.

=[Part 4]=

[T/N: The BGM choice for this part until the end is so damn good. I highly recommend you all listen to it [In my subtitled video, it's on 12:25 time mark]. And the voice acting!!! It's definitely my second favorite, right after the first CG which makes me feel scaroused]

The Jester smiles as he opens his arms, revealing his beautiful and dangerous fangs, waiting to make a curtain call to his sole audience.

Looking at Lucien before me, I take half a step back.

A jester who doesn't exist in the story, a marionette who has lost her strings, a story that will go on forever.

A somewhat bold idea spreads in my mind, causing my heart to inevitably start beating rapidly.

After all, this is a game—and it’s only a game.

Lucien has obtained the prop, but the game isn’t over yet, so the prop alone is useless.

[which mean she still have the chance to win]

The grand door slowly opens, revealing that pair of captivating eyes in even greater clarity.

MC: So, dear Mr. Jester, what is it that you desire?

Lucien: Perhaps it’s simply… to sway with you in a dance that never ends.

With that, he places one hand behind his back, bows slightly, and extends his right hand to me.

The moment I touch his warm palm, it feels like a huge clockwork begins turning again, bringing the entire castle to life.

??: [cheers] Party! Party! We want to keep the party going!

??: Party! Party! We want the Queen’s party!

An unknown dance tune begins to play, and Lucien lifts my hand, guiding me in graceful dance steps and making me sway like the red floating balloons.

The colorful and ambiguous shadows subconsciously draw my attention, but then I’m pulled one step closer to him, leaving no room for retreat.

His hand is clearly only lightly resting on my back, yet I can’t push away even half a step.

Lucien: Dear lady, don't leave my sight.

His voice is soft, but it seems to carry an undeniable power.

For a moment, all I can do is look into his eyes, move my feet in sync with his guidance, and spin under his palm.

He is both my dance partner and the conductor of our duet.

The moonlight sprinkles over the desolate castle, and the sweeping hem of my gown traces luminous arcs amidst the black and white.

My retreat and approach, intimacy and evasion, are all in the palm of his hand—

as if there are some invisible threads that make me dance only for him.

MC: Mr. Jester, do you want to get me?

Lucien: Perhaps I’ve been striving for that purpose all along.

At some point, red strings have been wrapped loosely around my wrists.

The faint touch pressing against the small of my back also seems to remind me that he has already decided to close the curtain on this game.

With a ‘click’, the gemstone on my chest lights up.

In the Jester’s clockwork castle, the escaping Queen has returned to her throne, back under the Jester’s control.

The music ends. In that instant, I seem to catch a flicker of boredom in Lucien’s eyes.

He steps back slowly, his hand about to release me, but I suddenly pull it tightly.

MC: Mr. Jester, the story isn’t over yet.

I take one step forward, not missing the brief flash of surprise in his expression.

The halted music hasn't faded, and the game is still ongoing, just like this story.

I place Lucien's hand back on my waist, leading him to dance with me once more.

MC: "Once upon a time, there was a Queen who ruled over the entire kingdom. The Queen has many, many toys, and she lives in this castle with them."

MC: "Who is her toy, and whose toy is she?"

These are lines written on the last page of the book in the Queen's chamber.

The Jester forgot, even though he exists outside the story, when he entered the story as an escapee character— 

he naturally became a part of it.

As I guide Lucien in the swaying dance, the melody begins to play once again.

I am the Queen of this castle.

MC: Dear Mr. Jester, I welcome you to my castle.

As if summoned, the toys dashed out of the darkness, surrounding us on all sides.

The silver disco ball spins, scattering vibrant specks of light across the entire room.

I pull Lucien's hand, leading his steps as we spin in the middle of the room, as though this is precisely the center of the whole world.

??: [cheers] Queen! Queen! Our beloved Queen!

But Lucien also seems unwilling to be outdone; those deep, profound eyes now brim with even more undisguised mirth.

When I want to take a step forward, he moves even closer, drawing me into his embrace. When he lightly pushes me forward, I sidestep and twirl to his side.

Beneath the flowing melody, a more suggestive and provocative tension pervades the air.

The contending steps and calculating gazes, exchange of critical winning moves—each and every second is savored before victory arrives.

MC: Give me your heart.

I place my fingertips on the black heart on his chest as I lean forward–––

He encircles me even more firmly in his arms, letting me sink deeper into the depths of his eyes.

At the same time, the black hue underneath my palm gradually fades away, replaced by a red glow identical to the gemstone on my chest. The light reflects in our shared gaze.

“Thump”, “thump."

The sensation of heartbeat felt beneath my fingertips seems to make that shade of red even more vivid.

Lucien: What if I refuse?

He speaks as his fingertips caress my chin gently yet resistlessly, his warmth delicately spread through the fabric of his glove.

In places hidden from view, the red strings entwined around my wrists and fingertips gently tighten as though he is orchestrating my entire heartbeat along with the blood vessels.

MC: It's already too late.

My hand gently caresses the seemingly throbbing light, and I lightly tighten my grasp.

MC: Each toy's chest is hollow, and in the Queen's chamber you haven't had the chance to visit... I found all the hearts.​​

When someone's heart is taken, they become the Queen's loyal and devoted toy.

However, only a Queen bound by shackles can take someone else's heart.

MC: You should have left quickly after putting the "wooden control bar" on me

Lucien: [chuckles] I was too greedy.

Lucien: Or rather... from the very beginning, I was mesmerized by something far too beautiful.

Lucien: But I don't feel like I've lost anything.

He makes his heart fit even more completely in my palm, yet at the same time, he also tightens the red strings in his hand, his eyes flickering with dazzling light.

Lucien: If you want this heart of mine, you might have to pay a heavy price.

To get his heart, you must willingly surrender to his control. To not be controlled, you must get his heart.

This game seems like a never-ending story.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Now… answer me once more, please.

Lucien: Do you still want my heart?

— — — — — — — —FIN — — — — — — — — — —

.

.

.

[Afterwords]

If you remember my afterwords about the latest solo date, you might recall how I felt a bit disappointed because it seemed to only highlight his wins. But I think this date washes away some of those disappointments, as it delivers exactly what I want to see in their rivalry—a game where both of them can match each other’s freak wits.

Who won in the end? Who's controlling whom? Personally, I believe it ends with a mutual surrender of control. The marionette willingly surrenders to the Jester's control, but she’s not really under his control, as she has already captured his heart. Meanwhile, the Jester gives up his heart and becomes her loyal toy—but this surrender doesn't feel like a loss to him. Control and surrender blur��intertwined and inseparable, much like the red thread that binds them both.

Another interesting thing is that his date is reminiscent of S2 Chapter 59, where they play "werewolf game" (commonly known in the West as mafia game) as enemies—competing with each other, but ultimately just wanting to keep playing together for as long as possible. A werewolf game that ended in a tie with them killing each other at the end, and now it is an escape game where neither of them wants to escape... Want to compete with all of their might, yet also don't want to stop playing with each other. No matter the game, it'll only be a two-person play and other players are just NPC.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

christmas cookies [g.t.]

Part One of 𝑨 𝑻𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒏–𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

Gator Tillman ✗ Win Lewis

➼ w.c. 1.7k ➼ warnings/tags. hurt/comfort, fluff ➼ a/n. This series takes place about a year after the events of Don't Waste Your Time (on Me), and while technically the main series is still being written, I wanted to take a small break to write some fluff for Win and Gator for Christmas. ➼ cookie divider credit @/saradika

Win laments that she can't find her late mother’s special Christmas cookie recipe, but stubbornly refuses to call her dad for a copy. Despite the bad blood between them, Gator takes it on himself to make the call, surprising her with her mom's recipe.

By the first week of December, Minnesota winter was in full swing, with several inches of snow already on the ground from Thanksgiving, and several more on the way.

Win faintly registered the sound of the front door opening and Gator knocking the snow from his boots as she rifled through the kitchen cabinet, but she was too focused on her hectic search to notice him enter the room until he spoke.

“Front drive’s clean.  What’re you doing?”

Win let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her hair.  “I could’ve sworn I had my mom’s Christmas cookie recipe somewhere, but I can’t find it,” she huffed, finally looking up at Gator.  His nose and cheeks were flushed red from the cold, but she was glad to see he’d traded his dingy green ball cap for a knit hat to keep his ears warm.

“You’re baking?  All by yourself?” he asked warily, raising an eyebrow at her, earning himself a flat stare in return, his teasing clearly unappreciated at the moment.

“No, Dot and Scotty are coming over tomorrow to help and I was kinda hoping to make my mom’s cutout cookies.  I haven’t had them since she died,” she murmured, slumping against the counter in defeat.  “I tried some store bought ones once, but they just weren’t the same,” she sighed.

Gator frowned, rounding the kitchen island to join her, looking down at the mess of recipes scrawled on note cards and scraps of paper strewn across the counter.  “Is there anywhere else you might’ve put it?” he ventured, slipping  his arms around Win’s waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I mean, probably,” she huffed, turning in his embrace to press her face to his chest.  “But I looked through all mom’s stuff that’s still packed away and I didn’t see it there either.  Maybe it got lost in the move, I dunno,” she sighed, her voice muffled by his hoodie.  Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath, letting the sharp spicy scent of Gator’s cologne soothe her somewhat.

It was always Christmas-time that she missed her mom most.

When Gator didn’t respond, Win looked up at him, finding a thoughtful frown on his face that she didn’t like, already knowing what he was thinking.

“No,” she said firmly, pulling back. 

“You don't even know what I’m gunna say!” he exclaimed with an incredulous huff, but Win shook her head stubbornly. 

“I know exactly what you’re gunna say, Gator,” she refuted, spinning away from him to gather the mess of recipes from the island counter and straighten them.

“But he probably still has the original—”

“Nope!” Win insisted, interrupting him before slipping away, but Gator wasn’t ready to give up yet, following her into the dining room.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that right?”

Win finally spun to face him.  “You of all people should understand not wanting to have contact with your father,” she said, her mouth pressing into a hard line.

For a long moment, they stared each other down before Gator sighed, deflating.

“I know,” he breathed, and the space between them pained him.  “Are you really gunna let that get in the way of getting something of your mom’s back though?” 

Win opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out and she snapped it shut in frustration.  “I–  I dunno!” she finally exclaimed, throwing her hands up.  “Maybe Dot has a similar recipe,” she said, losing steam, and the defeated look on her face only twisted Gator’s heart.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she mumbled, shaking her head as she closed the gap between them to fold herself back into his arms.  “I just miss her,” she whispered.

“I know,” Gator murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of her head as he squeezed her tighter.

“You hungry?” she asked after a moment, lifting her chin to peer up at him.  “I can go pick up some Chinese,” she offered, her go-to comfort food.

“Sure, sounds good.  You know what I like,” Gator replied, reluctantly releasing her.  For a moment, he almost offered to go with her, when he had an idea.  “I’m gunna shower while you’re out, kay?” he said, nodding toward the stairs.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon,” Win said, thinking nothing of it.  Brushing a kiss to his cheek as she slipped around him, she grabbed her keys and shoved her feet in her boots before heading out the door, shrugging her coat on as she went.

Gator waited for her to back out of the drive before pulling his phone from his pocket and climbing the stairs.  Scrolling through his contacts, he found the one he wanted, though he’d only used it once before.

As uncomfortable as this call would be for him, if Win wasn’t going to do it, he would.  For her sake.

Dialling the number, Gator took a deep breath and brought the phone to his ear, each shrill ring twisting his gut tighter, but by the time he reached the second floor landing, however, the line clicked and a voice answered hesitantly.  

“Hello?  Who is this?”  

For a moment, Gator was so shocked that Win’s father had picked up that he couldn’t make his voice work.

“Hello?” David Lewis repeated more firmly.

“Uh, hey,” Gator blurted out, pausing to wet his lips.  “It’s Gator… Tillman.  I know this is gunna come outta the blue, but I kind of… need a favour.”

There was a heavy pause before the other man spoke.  “And why the hell would I want to do any favours for you?”

Gator winced, but he wasn’t exactly surprised by his father-in-law’s cold response.  David was clearly still less than pleased that he hadn’t found out about the wedding till after the fact, and even less pleased about Gator’s… less than savoury past.

“Cause it’s not for me, it’s for Win,” he said, hoping that might change his mind.  While there was no love lost between father and son-in-law, the man still cared for his daughter, even if he often had a poor way of showing it.

“So why isn’t she the one calling me, then?” David scoffed and Gator had to fight back a sarcastic laugh.

“Cause she’s stubborn like that.”

David grunted in agreement, but didn’t speak, and Gator took the opening and ran with it.

“Look, I know you’re not my biggest fan, but I just want her to be happy, and doing this for her might just go a long way towards getting the two of yeh back on speaking terms.”

Gator waited, hoping David would take the bait.

There was another long stretch of silence before David sighed.  “Alright.  What do you need from me?” 

Gator’s lips tugged into a cautious grin.

“Do you still have a copy of her mom’s Christmas cookie recipe?”

“Gator!  Dot and Scotty are here!  Are you coming down?”

Win’s shout from the bottom of the stairs roused Gator with a jolt and he sat up, blinking blearily in the dim bedroom before finally focusing on the numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand, surprised that Win was already awake and up.  Running a hand through his hair to tidy it, he slipped out of bed and quickly threw on some clothes before heading down.

The strong smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen and Win handed him a cup as soon as he entered the room.

“Here, just the way you like it.”

“You’re an angel,” Gator murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple before bringing the cup to his lips for a sip, banishing the chill that had gripped him since leaving their warm bed.

“Morning sleepy head,” Dot chuckled, grinning at him as she dropped her tote bag of baking supplies on the counter, a floral patterned apron already tied round her waist.

“Mornin’,” he echoed, flashing her a rueful grin in return.

“Hey Gator, are you gunna help us bake cookies?” Scotty asked hopefully, perching herself atop one of the stools lining the marble island.

“Yeah sure, as long as we can make a certain recipe,” he replied, hiding his smirk in his cup so Win wouldn’t see.

“We were already plannin’ on making oatmeal raisin, y’know,” Dorothy pointed out, but Gator shook his head.

“Actually, I was thinking ‘bout this one,” he replied, pulling a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and sliding it across the counter to Win.

A puzzled frown creased her brow as she picked it up to unfold it, her eyes flicking curiously to Gator before returning to the paper.  Her mother’s distinctive graceful scrawl stared back at her and her eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, gaping at the page as tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.

“What is it, hon?” Dot asked, moving closer to get a better look.

“It’s– it’s my mom’s recipe, the one I was telling you I couldn’t find,” Win explained faintly, hastily wiping the dampness from her eyes before her head snapped up to fix Gator with a questioning look.  

“Where did you get this?” she asked, and Gator shrugged, biting back a grin.

“I have my ways,” he said simply, his lips twitching with amusement.

An incredulous smile spread across Win’s face and she threw her arms around his neck, practically jumping into his arms before kissing him breathlessly.

Dot watched the heartwarming display before shaking her head fondly and turning back to her daughter.  “Hey Scotty, why don’t we start getting out the ingredients we need?” she suggested in a hushed voice, ushering the girl toward the pantry to give the couple some privacy.

“I can’t believe you did that for me,” Win exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion, only guessing at the lengths Gator must have gone to to retrieve the recipe for her.

Gator let out a soft laugh and lowered Win back to her feet, though his hold on her didn’t loosen.  The tip of his nose brushed hers as his eyes searched her flushed face.  “Don’t you know by now?  I’d do anything for ya, Winnie.”

Win bit her lip, her hands moving to cup Gator’s cheeks before she raised her chin, pressing her lips to his once more, softer this time, kissing him slowly.

“I’m starting to get the picture,” she breathed, unable to stop grinning.

“Good,” Gator said, pulling back, though his hands lingered at her waist.  “Now, let’s get bakin’, cause I wanna taste these famous cookies of yours.”

➼ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @sailorskunk @emperorpookie @professionalpromqueen

@thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @buckysgrace

[pedge-stuff]

Fic request: Pedro or reader has an intense panic attack in a public. Reader has to talk him through it and calm him down enough so they can leave the event. Holding each other in bed.

clean up, aisle 4 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," per usual.

thanks, as always, for everything.

summary: sometimes, you deal with the downsides.

——————————————————————————

"I feel like we tried this and didn't like it."

Pedro inspects the back label on the box— some kinda chickpea flour protein pasta 'alternative' that came less-than-highly recommended by his personal trainer— before re-shelving it alongside the other sad, fake noodles.

The grocery store has become a little bit of a minefield. Gladiator 2 prep was exciting, until the rigorous hours in the gym started requiring a specialized diet. He can't eat carbs, you don't eat meat, both of you love frozen pizza, and neither of you really want to participate in the whole classic disordered Hollywood eating thing. And yet, here you are.

Home-cooked meals have consisted mostly of roasted vegetables and dry, baked proteins. You're attempting to eat "clean" in solidarity with him, but...

"We don't need pasta," Pedro laments, turning away from the shelving altogether. "What's left?"

You pull the notes-app list back up. "Whatever kind of frozen fruit you want for smoothies, plus pitted dates. I'd love those wasabi almonds from last month, but I dunno if they have them again. We could get Skinny Pop, if you want it?"

A grimace. "That's fine."

"We don't have to get it, Pedge."

"It's fine, really. We need something for the movie tonight, right?"

His shoulders slump as he pushes the cart onwards. The back right wheel is making a little squeaking sound, sharp and grating on your last damn nerve. This grocery store feels more and more like a minefield with every aisle turn. The balance between supporting Pedro in his training, and wanting him to just say fuck it and be happy, feels entirely precarious.

"Almonds," Pedro mutters, veering right, around an obnoxiously large Goldfish display and the toddler sobbing loudly in front of it. An obstacle course of bright lights and loud sounds. "Almonds, almonds—"

"Ohmygod, Pedro Pascal."

Immediately, no. Two college-aged, tri delta-looking, fresh-from-the-salon type girls, grinning like they'd won the damn lottery. Fans— no one he actually knows says "Pay-drow."

The wheel squeaks again as they grind to a forceful halt; the girls are standing directly in the path of the cart.

"Should we ask for a picture?" They speak at full volume, to each other, as if he isn't standing right in front of them.

"We have to, for the gram. Oh my god."

"Maybe Deuxmoi will pick it up."

Pedro grimaces as they start rummaging for their phones. He's always generous with his time— sometimes a little too generous, so concerned with hurting peoples' feelings that he'll take selfies through the drive-thru window, or walking the dogs. Even one memorable time, pumping gas.

Only at night, lights off, tucked away, does he ever confess his frustrations. As though he should not want privacy; as though being grateful was more important than being safe. Guilt eats him in ways that you alone cannot heal. All you can do is hold him a little tighter.

A phone is thrust towards you. "Can you take a picture of us?"

Before either of you can react, one girl has her arm over Pedro's shoulder. The other, on his waist. He's never been one to shy away from affection— had been pushing the cart single-handedly, with the other on the small of your back, since the dairy section— but that intimacy does not extend to strangers.

They are laughing, chattering— something about Game of Thrones. You distinctly make out so sexy and slay.

But you hardly register them, instead frowning at your partner as you snap a couple pics without looking. He is frozen, eyes fixed somewhere past you, though he offers a wan smile for the camera. Answers a question you can't hear with a half-hearted laugh, before gesturing to the next aisle. A polite gesture, too far from the fuck off on the tip of your tongue.

Pedro attempts to move away, but the girl's arm is still snaked around his waist. Trapped. She reaches to wrap the other around, attempting to encircle him in a teddy bear-style hug. This, here, is the limit.

With a rough, jerky motion, he forces her off of him. "Sorry, sorry," he says quickly. "We need to go."

"But—"

If you push the cart, and it happens to roll over a perfectly manicured foot, well...

Pedro is a few paces ahead of you, stalking towards the almonds like they owe him a grave debt. His fists clench and unclench at his side.

Not good.

His tells for a panic attack are well-catalogued in your brain. You push the cart to one side, mouthing an apology to the man you almost plow down, before approaching Pedro with caution. His chest heaves as he frowns at the Blue Diamond display, breaths noticeably shallow.

"Pedro." Fighting muscle memory, you don't touch him. Don't want to startle him, though concern burns a hole in your own diaphragm.

"Mm."

"Baby, look at me."

His eyes squeeze shut, instead. "I'm good. I'm good."

"Why don't you go to the car, I'll finish up quick."

"I'm good," he insists, voice cracking.

"It's OK if you're not good."

A hitch in his breath, and Pedro's face crumbles. "Just startled me, is all," he whispers, brown eyes pooling remorsefully. "So stupid. Can't even make it through the fucking supermarket to get my fucking fruits and veggies."

You reach for his hand, lithe fingers prying his clench fist apart. Soothe the red-crescent divots in his palm with the pad of your thumb. Wait for him to continue, as if you're not both standing in the middle of the nuts-candy-and-coffee section.

"Everything is just a lot right now," Pedro says, dragging in a shaky but deeper inhale. His other hand swipes across his cheek.

Mentally, you catalogue how difficult it would be to return the items in your cart; how fast you could retrace your steps, and rush the man home.

You bring his palm to your lips, instead. "Go take a smoke," you suggest. "And then we can get the fuck outta here."

"Someone's gonna post it online again. Everyone's talking about how I reek of cigarettes."

"You have reeked of cigarettes as long as I've known you. They are late to this." Tugging playfully on the hand you still hold, you wait for him to crack the barest, thinest of smiles.

"You still love me, though."

"Enough to fight off anyone else who tries to dry-hump you in this Whole Foods."

Slowly, you both retreat to the abandoned cart. "Can we—" Pedro stops himself, unsure of how to ask.

"Whatever it is, babe, yes."

He pushes forward. "What if I was asking if we could get naked right now and run through the supermarket parking lot so people would think we were crazy and leave us alone forever?"

"Then I'd start untying my shoes. It'd be hard to pull my jeans over 'em."

The wasabi almonds are, finally, pulled from the shelf. You proceed to the freezers. "That's not what I was gonna ask," he admits, grabbing a bag of chunked mango.

"Bummer."

"Can we just get some normal fucking popcorn? If one night's worth of fake butter is what does me in, someone else can be the Gladiator, I give up."

For him? Anything.

[mitsuristoleme]

cw: gojo x geto, canon compliant, shoko cameo, angst, NOT proofread

“Satoru!” 

“I love you, Satoru.”

“Satoru, you’re the love of my life.”

Satoru sinks to the ground next to bed, curling into himself. What had just happened?

Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?

What the fuck did that even mean?

His glasses had come off a while ago, lost somewhere in the streets of Shinjuku. 

He wants to cry. He wants to cry so much. The tears just wouldn’t leave his eyes, his heart heavy in his chest, burning a hole through his body. 

“I’ll never leave you.” Suguru had said, his nimble fingers tracing patterns under Satoru’s shirt. 

Lies. 

He lied.

He left him. 

“You’re the love of my life.” Suguru had said for the first time, the words whispered in Satoru’s arms as he passed out after eating his first special grade. 

Was that a lie too? 

Did he ever even love him? 

Why would he leave him behind?

Satoru has no idea how long he sits there spiralling into the dark cavern of his thoughts before the tears start to roll down his face, before his sniffles turn into sobbing and hyperventilating, pulling sharp breaths into his nose for no reason than his body’s need to live on.

“Satoru~” Suguru had almost purred, his eyes crinkling into that signature half moon smile , waving him over, his bag slung over his shoulder, the setting sun behind him making him look ethereal, angelic even.

“Why?” Satoru questions aloud, his voice cracking, a fresh round of sobs forcing itself from his mouth once more. 

His chest hurt. 

Was it from crying too much? Was it heartache?

He vaguely registers his the door clicking open and shut. 

There’s a hand on his back. It’s warm, comforting.

The other hand slides between the cage he’d made with his arms, to grip onto his chin, forcing his head to lift up. 

His eyes are full of tears, he doesn’t know who he’s looking at. His six eyes are sluggish, all he knows is that he knows this cursed energy.

His heart soars for a fleeting moment.

“Suguru?” he croaks.

“No man, it’s me, Shoko. ‘M sorry.”

Satoru wails, “Shoko. Shoko, he- he left, Shoko. He left me.”

She sighs.

“I know. C’mon get up, get in bed.”

She somehow manages to haul him into bed.

Satoru hears her mention a sedative through his sobs. He doesn’t care what she does. 

Theres a prick on the base of his neck. His head swims. 

Shoko runs a hand along his forehead. He doesn’t know if it’s to get his attention or soothe him. Both maybe.

“I’ll be here tomorrow. But you need to sleep right now.”

He nods. He doesn’t know what else to do.

Suguru’s face flashes through his hazy mind. The millionth time tonight. 

He would’ve followed him anywhere. Why didn’t he take Satoru with him? He would’ve died for him. But now? Now he was just dying inside. 

There would be an order for his arrest sent out tomorrow. Satoru would be told to capture his own best friend, his boyfriend- was he his boyfriend anymore? 

He loved Geto Suguru. 

He loved him.

Satoru passes out at that. 

a/n: IM SO SORRY!! if anyone was curious, i was listening to loml and the smallest man who ever lived by taylor swift while writing this. i also almost cried. so. hope you had fun??? comment and reblog mayhaps please?

also i wrote this in like 20 something minutes pls forgive me for any errors

[fortheloveof-sebastian]

The One Who Has My Heart

Pairings: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: The second task of the Triwizard Tournament is to recover what’s been taken from you…little do you know just how true that is.

Warnings: potential kidnapping?, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This request is for @scarydeadlavender Thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy it😁

Currently, you’re standing on a platform that’s been erected out of the lake. A few hundred feet below you, the surface of the lake roiled, dark and murky; it made sense why it had earned the nickname of the Black Lake. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine terrifying creatures dwelling within the unpredictable waters.

If the other two champions — a broad shouldered boy from Durmstrang and a wispy, waif-like girl from Beaxbatons — were nervous about this task, this didn’t show it. In fact, they stood on two adjacent platforms, leaning forward with intent.

Your eyes scan the crowd nervously.

Still no Sebastian. You can’t help but feel disappointed by his apparent absence. Where else could he be? He even told you the night before that he would be ready to congratulate you on another win, considering that he had been in detention during the first task. You had tried to assuage his guilt on missing out by insisting that it didn’t matter — and it didn’t, not really — but it had lifted your spirits to think that he might be watching today.

“ — have precisely an hour to recover what’s been taken from them.”

A whistle blows, and the other two champions waste no time diving into the water. You shake your heads, dislodging your worries of Sebastian. A roar of impatience and disbelief assails you from the Hogwarts student section, shouting at you to go and launching you into movement.

You take a deep breath and swan dive into the lake, the icy water engulfing you. The shock nearly immobiles you, until you open your eyes and notice the two other champions are already swimming away, leaving behind a trail of bubbles in their wake.

“I’m here.”

You turn, relieved. Staring back at you is a mermaid, more otherworldly than human, with hair that flows and waves in the current like the tangled black seaweed below you.

The mermaid encircles her arms around your neck and latches a necklace there. Instantly, the pressure of holding your breath releases, and the water clears significantly. The necklace granted you breathing and visibility abilities beneath the water, a special relic that the mermaid swore to bring to you — thanks to Ominis, of course.

Sebastian told you in confidence that his fellow Slytherin had struck up a friendship with one of the fishy beasts, and upon hearing about your latest task, you knew that it would be a great help. Ominis was incensed, understandably, that Sebastian had given away another one of his closely guarded secrets but eventually conceded. After all, he wanted Hogwarts to win the Triwizard Tournament as bad as anyone.

You and Ominis struck a deal with the mermaid, after Ominis vaguely declared that she owed him a favor.

Part of you didn’t believe she would come, most likely because you didn’t trust this mermaid. Her name was Kaya, and she had taken an instant liking to Sebastian as soon as she saw him. Too much of a liking for your taste.

“They said that I needed to recover what’s been taken from me,” you tell Kaya, recalling the only instruction you managed to catch.

The mermaid smiles knowingly. Or else, you think that she’s smiling. Her mouth, lined with razor sharp teeth, looks more cunning then helpful. “And what are you missing, human?”

You rack your brain. Was this task metaphorical? Did they secretly steal away with something from your dorm in the middle of the night?

Then, it strikes you — Sebastian. Sebastian was missing.

Your heart pounds. You knew he wouldn’t have missed for just any reason! But that means that he was here somewhere, in the lake.

“Sebastian,” you say aloud. “Where is he?”

“He’s safe,” the mermaid says.

You narrow your eyes. “Where. Is. He.”

“I helped you with your task,” the mermaid hauntily replies. “So I’ve just taken my payment.”

“If recovering Sebastian is my task, and you’ve taken him, then you have not helped me!” You shout. Red hot anger shoots through you. “You can’t do this. Bring me to Sebastian. Now.”

“Mr. Gaunt said that I only had to give you the mermaid relic,” Kaya says.

Your hands form into fists. “He also said that you have to help me win.” Resisting the urge to throttle the mermaid, you demand, “You have to take me to Sebastian or else your debt with Ominis — er, Mr. Gaunt — will not be repaid.”

Fae can not be trusted, you remember from your studies. But they also take favors and debts seriously, which you hope is enough to convince this magical creature to listen.

The mermaid studies you for a moment, and it’s as if you can feel your alotted time to complete the task slipping away. Finally, she sighs. “Fine, follow me. But keep up. I won’t go back for you.”

Easier said than done. It’s a battle to keep up with her — although she might’ve alleviated your need to breath air and your poor human vision, you aren’t nearly as fast as her. Her fishlike body cuts effortlessly through the seaweed, churning up sand and rocks in your face as you scramble after her. Fortunately for you, her supposed hiding place isn’t far from where you had dived into the lake from the platforms.

The mermaid points inside the mouth of an underwater cave. “He’s in there.”

You don’t have time to debate whether or not she’s telling the truth. At this point, your concern isn’t about the tournament but whether Sebastian is safe. Forcing your way into the cave, you navigate through the pitch darkness for a few feet before remembering that you have your wand. “Lumos,” you whisper.

Light illuminates your surroundings.

And there, at the end of the narrow tunnel, lays Sebastian. His eyes are closed, and if it wasn’t for the seaweed binding him, you would’ve assumed he was just asleep.

Frantically you dart forward and grab him.

“Depulso!” The spell propels you out of the cave. You cling to Sebastian, his body limply bumping next to yours as you swim for the surface.

The mermaid is nowhere to be found, but you prefer it that way. Cupping your hands, you fight your way to the surface, kicking your legs as fast as you can. Your muscles scream at you but you don’t stop until your bursting above the water, greeted by a chorus of cheers.

Durmstrung has already made it back.

You’re rescued by two older wizards who use their wands to carry you back up onto the platforms. Only then does Sebastian snap out of whatever trance he’s in — sputtering and heaving as he coughs up lake water.

“What’s going on?” He asks weakly.

Quickly you cut him free from his seaweed binding, and help him into a sitting position.

“How much do you know?”

Sebastian shakes his head, the motion sending out droplets of water onto your robes. His lashes are wet also, spiky, beads of water collecting on the ends and somehow, despite having literally just been dragged up from the bottom of a lake, he looks infuriatingly handsome.

“I—not much.” He frowns. “I remember leaving the common room and then…nothing.”

You quickly fill him in: about the task, the mermaid, and his temporary kidnapping. He listens attentively, his features morphing from confusion to shock, and then back to confusion.

“She kidnapped me?” He echoes. Sebastian leans back on his hands. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame her. I am rather good looking.”

You scowl at him. “I should’ve left you for mermaid chow.”

“But wait, if I was unconscious, then that means that I missed another one of your tasks,” he says, straightening. A look of guilt passes over his face.

“It’s not like you could really help it,” you say empathetically. “If you think about it, you’ve been kidnapped twice within the last twenty four hours. I suppose I can forgive you.”

He clasps your hand. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to —”

“And Durmstrang wins the second task!” The announcer booms. “One task Hogwarts, one task Durmstrang. Join us for the last task for the tiebreaker!”

Later that evening, you get an owl from Sebastian requesting your presence. You’ve been trying not to pity yourself for losing the task today, although it’s hard not to when your fellow Hogwarts students cast you accusatory glares. There’s no way you can refuse Sebastian, though — the cheeky bugger — so you heave yourself from beneath your covers and get dressed.

The Slytherin common room is mostly empty, besides a few students who are studying. You traipse inside uncertainly; Sebastian gave you little instructions, just to meet.

“Sebastian?” You call out.

Avoiding the pointed glares from a few of the students, you round one of the magnificent columns and spot a familiar backside. Sebastian’s turned away from you but whirls to face you when he senses your presence. Delight breaks out on his face.

He hastily fills the space between you in two long strides, then sweeps you into a passionate embrace. When his lips find yours, you’re taken aback by his fervent display of affection — it’s as if you’ve been apart for a dreadfully long time, and he can’t wait to reunite. You melt into the kiss. Sebastian’s hands slip behind your neck and around your waist, pulling you close. You’re busy relishing the moment when you suddenly hear the telltale sound of water being splashed.

You pull away from Sebastian just in time to see a large fin swish away from the view of the window looking out into the lake.

“Was that—?”

“Maybe,” Sebastian says, grinning.

“Sebastian,” you scold him. The matching grin that unfurls on your face negates the scalding nature of your tone. “That’s so impolite.”

“What? I think it’s a fitting punishment for a potential kidnapper,” he says defensively.

“Are you going to kiss me in front of the entire Triwizard board then, too?”

Sebastian’s grin widens. “Only if you insist.”

“I can’t believe you,” you say, laughing in disbelief but allowing him to ensnare you in another toe curling kiss anyway.

He punctuates the kiss with several smaller ones, peppering them from the corners of your mouth to the top of your noise. “Why not? I can’t just go around letting psychotic, kidnapping mermaids think they have a chance with me. Everyone needs to know who really has my heart.”

[sonicstalker123]

Korekiyo x Reader who commits s***ide because of Korekiyo’s Death PART 2 (since people loved it so much 🥹)

CW: angst, sewerslide, gore, but with fluff at the end!

Note: Y/N is besties with Himiko and has an odd friendship with Kokichi.

✨she/her pronouns used!✨

Part one: 👇🏻

Shuichi, Maki and Kaito look mortified as they see Y/N’s corpse, whose body is stiff and surrounded in dried blood. Korekiyo’s hat and the bloodied knife are next to her.

“A body has been discovered?! So she’s actually dead?! Monokuma isn’t just screwing with us?!” Kaito asks, looking horrified.

“Yes, Kaito, she’s…. dead. Monokuma would never mess around with this sort of thing. Kaito, Maki, stay here with the body, I’m going to get the others!” Shuichi responds, looking down at her lifeless body. He then runs out of the room and gets the others.

Everybody soon returns and Tsumugi looks down at her and screams. “Y/N is dead?!” Himiko looks at Y/N and gets sick to her stomach and starts crying.

“Why did you have to leave us?!” She yells and sounds heartbroken.

“I don’t know Himiko, but we should start the investigation. These investigations hurt all of our hearts, but we must do this…” Shuichi states, looking for clues and finds a note.

“Hmm, a note? It says ‘This is goodbye, isn’t it? Kiyo made me feel special. He made me feel loved. He really made me feel wonderful. Appreciated. I’ll never forget the memories we made. I couldn’t bare the thought of being away from him for much longer, it was just tearing me up inside. Take this hat and mask and put it on my bed. As a reminder that we will be with one another forever. See you guys in another life. I thought you all were amazing friends’.”

The room falls silent… everybody stops in their tracks, looking at Shuichi as he reads the note. Tears start to form in everybody’s eyes, specifically Himiko’s. Kokichi of all people looks upset. “She thought of me as a friend too..?” Kokichi asks, looking genuinely surprised.

“Yeah right, Kokichi, like she would have ever fuckin’ consider you of all people to be her friend, ya dumbass, especially after the way you always treated her! Always taking her things! Hell, maybe you even took Creepy Korekiyo’s hat from her room!” Miu exclaims.

“Idiot, she always locked the door during the day and Kiyo was protective of her room, especially after I stole this precious necklace of hers. Seems a little too late to give this back to her now?” Kokichi places the necklace next to her respectively.

Shuichi is surprised that he’s being so nice, but resumes his investigation, along with everybody else. “Kokichi, why did you steal her necklace? Did you take that from her when she was alive?”

Kokichi laughs. “Well, duh, of course I took it from her when she was alive! While she was away, probably doing something.” Kokichi looks at Y/N, who’s still limp, but her body is slowly becoming stiff.

Kaito walks close to Y/N, inspecting her, along with Shuichi. “She has deep cuts on her wrist with scissors next to her. A sharp and bloody kitchen knife from the kitchen is in her hands. Seems like she’s been dead for a while, the blood is dried.” Shuichi states.

Kaito looks at her body. “Hey man, that hat she always carried around with her isn’t here. That’s strange, maybe the killer hid that hat somewhere.”

“You’re right, Kaito..! So where did they hide it?” Tsumugi asks.

Kaito shrugs. “Hell if I know. Maybe it’ll show up eventually or maybe it’s in Y/N’s room.”

“Ah! Good idea, Kaito! Let’s head there now!”

Kaito nods and he and Tsumugi leave the area in pursuit of Y/N’s room.

Shuichi looks at the dried blood on the sharp knife and then at her hand, with her phone nearby. He sees the picture that Y/N was looking at shortly before she died.

“Y/N…. We will bring your killer to justice and avenge you…” Shuichi says, while looking at her, with a saddened expression.

Some time passes and Tsumugi and Kaito return. “well. Her hat from Kiyo wasn’t there. The mask he gave her was in her room though.”

“Huh? The hell are you talking about, idiot? Creepy Kiyo’s mask is right next to her! How did you not see it?!” Miu exclaims.

“Oh.” Tsumugi and Kaito say, at the same time.

*DING BONG BING BONG!*

“It’s time for the damn Class Trial…” Maki says, looking at the monitor.

“Yup, exactly! Now get to the Shrine of Judgement, ASAP!!” Monokuma exclaims.

Himiko sighs sadly. “I don’t wanna do this class trial the most….”

“Himiko, I don’t want to either… but we have to! It’s the only way that we can let her rest in peace.” Maki responds.

Himiko sighs. “Y-Yeah… let’s do this.”

Everybody steps inside the elevator. “It feels… so odd and like something is missing in here.” Kaito states.

“Not something, someone. Three people, actually. Gonta, Y/N and Korekiyo are all… dead.” Kaede responds, remembering Korekiyo’s execution.

“Fuckin’ moron! You know that they’re dead, that’s why they’re not here!” Miu states.

Time for the class trial.

Everybody debates and everybody goes back and fourth, trying to figure out who killed her.

Shuichi plays Hangman’s Gambit inside of his head lol.

Plain as day: it spells out one word: SUICIDE.

“The killer was… herself. She committed suicide.” Shuichi states, looking devastated.

Everybody looks horrified and gasps. Even Kokichi.

“So… the paper she wrote was…” Kaede looks at Shuichi, with devastated eyes.

“Yes, Maki, it was her final note. That was her goodbye. And the text she sent Kaito? That was her final text.”

The class trial ends, with saddened looks from everybody. “The very least we could do is do what her final wish was… to take Korekiyo’s mask and hat and place it in her room.” Shuichi states, motioning for Kaito and Maki to follow behind him.

They all walk to where Y/N was and grab the hat and mask. With saddened looks on their faces, they walk towards Y/N’s room. They approach her door. “Hey Monokuma! We know you’re here! … open the door for us… Please…” Shuichi states, Himiko finding and joining them.

Monokuma pops up out of nowhere. “Yeah, sure.” He unlocks the door for them and disappears. Shuichi turns around and notices Himiko. “Himiko? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to say goodbye to her too… All of us do.” She points at everybody standing by her room.

Himiko slowly opens the door, looking heartbroken as she opens the door. “H-Hey, Y/N… I have these pictures… of us here... Mind if w-we hang these up on your wall?..” Himiko hangs up pictures of everybody on the walls. Everybody looks sad as they get the hint and follow behind Himiko.

Kiibo grabs a picture of Y/N and Kiibo, Kaede grabs a picture of herself and Y/N…. And so on. Y/N looks so happy in every single photo. “One last photo… Himiko places two photos on Y/N’s pillow. One of them with Himiko and one of Kiyo and Y/N.

Shuichi notices Y/N’s necklace on her bed. “Ah! Her necklace! How did it get here? Did Kokichi bring it here?” He then notices a picture of Kokichi and Y/N smiling and surprisingly getting along. In the photo, Y/N has a big grin on her face, with Kokichi in the background in Kokichi’s lab. Shuichi picks it up in curiosity and looks at the back. “It says ‘I always thought you were my bestie too… I just had a… way… of sharing it. I’m sorry. Goodbye, Y/N.’? Did they… have a friendship of some sort? Never mind… it’s not important.” Shuichi says as he places her hat next to the necklace with the photo in the middle.

He then gently places the mask next to the hat and puts the picture of Y/N and Kokichi back on the bed, with the necklace wrapped up in it.

Everybody sits on the floor reminiscing about Y/N and their memories.

Y/N’s ghost starts to fly around, watching over everybody in the academy for a moment, but then excitedly flies in the sky, looking for Korekiyo. “Korekiyo!!! Are you here~??”

She continues to look around until she sees Korekiyo’s ghost, sulking. Y/N excitedly flies towards Korekiyo and hugs him from behind. “Kiyo!” Korekiyo reacts to her voice and turns around. “Is that..?” He turns around and hugs her tightly. The two of them hug each other tightly. “I missed you dearly, my beloved rose.” He gives her a kiss on the forehead. “I was so lost without you, I…I even—!” Kiyo holds her close. “Shhh, it’s okay, my dear. What matters now is that we’re together.”

Y/N cries tears of joy as their ghosts sit next to each other as she buries her head in his chest. Kiyo protectively places his hand on Y/N’s head. “Mmh, you always knew how much I loved those.”

Damn this finale was so tough to write, irl stuff kept me busy. I wanted to make it as perfect as I possibly could! I had an alternate ending in mind where Kiyo panicked after Y/N told him that she was her own killer, but I wanted the ending to be the embodiment of fluff.

I hope you all liked this!!

[inferencesarchives]

Ocean's Valentine

captain caviar x gn!reader fluff

summary: how you and caviar spend valentines day on a voyage together <3

warnings: physical touch, pet names (sweetheart), mentions of food

Ah, the open sea breeze, perfect for an evening like this.

Somewhere, out in the vast soda ocean, there was a ship, gently rocking back and forth on the waves. On said ship, a crew of sailors enjoyed a hearty feast, eating and drinking to their heart's content. Each and every crewmate wore joyous smiles upon their faces, all of them celebrating the holiday by sharing laughter and well-wishes with one another.

It was a happy holiday indeed. The cookies were delighted and graciously celebrated their friendships with each other. Every sailor's boisterous laughter quickly filled the dining hall below deck. It truly was a perfect holiday for every cookie on board.

Even after the dinner was over, plenty of crew members were boasting with smiles and laughter. All across the ship, cookies could be seen eagerly conversing with one another, and atop the deck, a certain pair of cookies could be seen sharing a special moment with each other.

"Ha! Now THAT'S a good joke! You're quite the comedian, ya know!" Captain Caviar Cookie laughed at your jokes as he playfully nudged you with his elbow. "You're a real sweetheart, ya know. I'd give anything to see you smile." He looked at you with a starstruck look in his eyes. His sudden compliment left you red in the face, and he chuckled at your flustered expression. "You just look so adorable. I'm glad that we're able to spend our lives together. I love you so much." He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead.

"Aww, Cav! I love you too," you said as you smiled and hugged him. He was quick to lean into your touch and gently kissed your neck. "Love ya more," he teased. "No, I love you more!" you giggled as you pulled away from the hug. "Oh really? Well, I love you more than anything in the world." He gave you a sharp-toothed smile. "Then, I love you more than anything in the universe!" you told him as you grabbed his hand. "Oh, alright, you win this time," he playfully rolled his eyes before kissing your lips.

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."

a/n: omg fishbubble is alive no way- anyways CAPTAIN CAVIAR BELOVED <33 HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE! also pls request something im trying to defeat writer's block

thanks for stopping by!

all works are written by fishbubble and are not to be reposted, copied, or translated without permission. reblogs are appreciated, though!

want to submit a request? see requesting rules here.

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[das-malefitz]

It's a Sin | Secondo/Papa Emeritus II x Female Reader (NSFW)

(A/N: First Ghost fanfic! Uploaded to Ao3 first, but figured I'd give Tumblr a spin too. Image is by Rene Magritte: "The Lovers II", 1928. Getting into the habit of fanfic again; it's been ten years.) Content: Secondo x Female Reader ; Fluff ; Pillow-talk ; Implied Sexual Content ; Heavy Petting ; Relationship insecurities talk WC: ~1500 words You've been involved with Papa Emeritus II for a while, but it's never gone beyond physical affections and romantic professions. The inevitable consequence of such is a confrontation of these emotions, and whether it means much to this grandiose figure of Satanic desire.

---------

Tangled in sheets and limbs, you recover from another wave of ecstasy. The sensation has near brought you to tears more than once, bliss mixing with an overwhelming release. Secondo holds you close—  he always has a hand on you somewhere or somehow—  and the smirk he wears after making you orgasm never gets old. His Papa makeup is smeared, fine tan skin appearing beneath the swipes of white paint and black detail. You can see a bit of your lipstick, a sharp red in contrast, painting his lips a puckered pink. You know that you probably look just as disheveled. 

A small price to pay for delight. 

The sight from the hotel room is a beautiful one, with Paris’s landscape slinking out from the morning fog. It had to be the early morning, somewhere past midnight, and the twinkling lights of a dark city peppered the room with gentle lighting. Secondo had stumbled back in a few hours ago, somewhat intoxicated, still dressed in his papal robes. When he’d seen you he’d lost all his composure, something limited from the post Ritual high anyway, and hadn’t let his hands leave your body since.

As you adjust a little in bed, Secondo looks over at you. His proud, hooked nose casts a pretty shadow over his cheek, making him somehow look younger and sweeter. It’s moments like these you take advantage of seeing another side of Papa Emeritus II. While the crowds go wild, and the women beg for a taste of him, you know that it’s your bed that he returns to every night. Scents of musky sex often perfume his body, but you know that sexual urges are a divine right by Lucifer. To abstain would be an insult, and far from the practices of the Clergy and what they expect of their members… and their Papa. 

You aren’t a Sister yourself, though you have thought about joining. There is nothing against fraternization within the Clergy, not that you know of or that Secondo has told you, but part of you hopes to keep the distance between his work and… You. 

It was hard to feel special at first, or really like you were anything other than another lay, another groupie. Secondo made it clear quickly, however, that you were special. He was never one to play games, not with those hardened eyes. Yet it would be doubt that plagued every post coitus session, despite all the smiles and how sweetly he’d finger you, that things were simply convenient for him. 

“What plagues you, cara?” He asks suddenly, and while you were lost in thought you catch that he’s been looking at you the whole time, silently, with that smirk having fallen so slightly. His gaze traces your form, catching on your lips and your breasts more than once. “You reached climax, no? Tell me I have not failed you— ”

He smiles again, quick to carry on, “— of course not, you look as if you’ve been kissed by Lucifer himself. The blush on your cheeks and your chest… You are beautiful.”

It makes you smile too, but you know that he was right to ask if everything was alright. Your elation was evident, sure, but there were those moments of silence that seemed to catch your nerves. He has only spoken up once or twice about it, but you were quick to dash his concerns.

Now, it seems, he wishes to know more. The tactic of flirtation is a clever, usual one from him. 

“It’s just…” The words struggle to fall from your lips, and your turn fully to face him. You reach up to caress his jawline, your fingers trailing from neck down to the bed and falling with a thump. “It’s stupid. I feel… Jealous, really.”

This makes his eyebrows raise. He struggles to adjust himself, the sweat laden sheet falling from his chest and relaxing around his hips. He sits up, staring down at you.

“Jealous?” Secondo repeats with his hardened stare. He appears angry, a superficial observation of the man, but you know that it’s just the way his brow tends to furrow in concentration. You give an exasperated sigh, a scarlet flush of shame riding on your cheeks. You sit up as well, holding the sheet to your chest, feeling far too exposed in more ways than one. 

“I dunno,” you mumble at first. It’s hard to admit, but you give yourself credit for getting this far. “Jealous… maybe isn’t the word. It’s just that… Remember how I said I was considering joining the abbey? Becoming a Sister? Being able to… join you often, and to worship Satan with the others?”

He nods, slow at first as his memory rushes to catch up.

“I haven’t gone about it yet… and I don’t know if I will. You fuck beautiful women, you sing, you are this… laviscious figure of worship and devotion and it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. Yet I… I dunno, maybe… I’m afraid of being left behind?” The words squeak out of you, your fingers clutching onto the bed sheet. 

“Of being just… just another woman you leave behind. You tour the world, Secondo… You bring so much joy to people. You bring joy to me... I just don’t want to be the one to hold you back. To keep you behind.”

He remains quiet, staring and listening intently. For a second you’re sure that he’s forgotten how to speak—  it’s the only other conclusion for a man who seems to always say the right thing—  or, perhaps, you’ve offended him by trying to remain oh-so important. The burden of duty weighs upon the crown of many who lead, this you know… And it is far more of a dedication than one simple relationship. Your relationship. For months now you’ve felt this way, ignoring it with sex and laughter, and only now has the nerve finally come to say something.

Yet, you’re afraid now. You don’t want to lose him.

Finally Secondo looks at you, and grabs at one of your hands. He kisses the palm lightly, trailing featherlight touches from your wrist to your forearm. He returns his kiss to your hand, holding it close against the curve of his cheek.

There it is again, that glimpse of a younger, more vulnerable man. It feels like a trick of the light, or maybe your own hope that he was different with you.

“Cara. I am not a man who squanders the gifts I have been given. For all that I have… and all that I must do… It does not come second to what I want.”

He draws you close, and you fall forward into his arms. They wrap around you, a warm embrace as he kisses the top of your head. You shudder into the closeness, intimacy filling you and sealing battered wounds. 

“I would not be here if you were simply someone to me, another body to worship before moving onto the next. You… you remind me, cara, that beneath the paint and the robes there is still a man. They see Papa. You see… Secondo.”

His words ring true, lighting your insides with a carnal fire. Pulling back slightly you look up at him, in time to feel your own eyes sting warm with tears.

“Do you mean that?” You ask, your hands clutching at him. 

His hand snakes around your waist, and his nails dig into your flesh enough to make you shudder again. “I do not lie. I crave pleasure as much as I wish to give it. And you are the one that I wish to give it to. On my own time. When I am just a man, naked and bare in front of you.”

You feel the magnetic pull between you two, the same thing that had drawn you to him in the first place, and it clears the distance between your lips. They find his lips, and it’s a kiss that ignites your core. He kisses fervently, perhaps to prove the point, and pulls you even closer.

Before you know it you’ve tumbled back onto the bed, half on top and half sprawled next to him. Secondo swipes his thumb over your cheek, and a wicked grin splits his mouth. 

“Now you must stop this crying, these tears, these worries. Or I will have to make you come again, and again, and again—”

It makes you laugh. You kiss him again on the corner of the mouth, and he utters a little groan, grabbing onto you tighter once more.

“You better. You said you don’t lie,” you say with a tease, letting your hand twirl circles onto his chest.

With that he rolls you over with a hearty laugh, his hungry kiss descending your fears to delicious, sinful paradise.

[emma23]

Waiting for something special:

————————————————————————

The small coffee shop you found yourself in wasn’t anything special—just one of those dingy little places tucked away in the corner of the street where no one ever really went. You had been coming here for weeks now, sitting in the same booth by the window, watching life move on without you.

And then there was Cecil Denis.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened, but somehow, the eccentric man with the too-bright shirts and the cigarette always dangling from his lips had wormed his way into your daily routine. You’d met him by chance, or maybe he’d orchestrated it—it was hard to tell with him. Everything Cecil did seemed intentional, like he knew how every little interaction would play out before it even happened.

Today, you found yourself sitting across from him again, sipping on your drink while he droned on about something you couldn’t quite follow. His hands were animated, his voice lively, but your mind was somewhere else.

“Y/N? You listening to me, doll?” Cecil’s smooth voice cut through your haze, drawing you back to the present. He tilted his head, eyeing you with that same smug, knowing expression he always had.

“Sorry, what?” you blinked, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Cecil leaned back in his chair, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a tray. “I was saying, you seem distracted. Something on your mind?”

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what had been bothering you for weeks. Cecil was sharp, too sharp, and he had this way of making you feel like you were being put under a microscope.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, staring down at your cup.

Cecil hummed, clearly not buying your deflection. “Nothing, huh? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like something.”

You sighed, fidgeting with your spoon. “It’s stupid.”

“Oh, those are my favorite kinds of things to talk about,” Cecil grinned, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. “Come on, doll, spill.”

You bit your lip, still debating whether or not to say it. But Cecil wasn’t the kind of guy you could keep things from for long. Besides, what was the harm in telling him? He probably wouldn’t care, right?

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed. “I’ve never been kissed.”

Cecil raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

You nodded, your face heating up even more. “It’s pathetic, I know. I’m in my twenties and I’ve never even kissed anyone. Like, who does that?”

Cecil’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes softened slightly. “No, it’s really not pathetic,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle for once.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I guess I was just waiting for someone special to come along.”

Cecil’s gaze sharpened, and you could feel the shift in the air between you. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Has someone?”

Your breath hitched, and you found yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe,” you muttered, barely above a whisper.

Cecil chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think you, huh?” His fingers drummed lazily on the table. “So, what do you want me to do about it, doll?”

You glanced up at him, feeling your heart race in your chest. “Will you?”

Cecil tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “If I kiss you here, right now, you won’t be kissing any other men, Y/N. It'll only ever be me.”

Your pulse quickened, your mind racing as you processed his words. He wasn’t joking—there was an intensity in his gaze that made it clear he meant every word. This wasn’t just some casual kiss for him; this was a claim.

But wasn’t that what you wanted? Someone special? Someone who made you feel like you were the only one who mattered?

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Okay.”

Cecil’s smirk widened, and he stood up, moving around the table to slide in next to you. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of cigarette smoke, creating a dizzying combination that made your head spin.

His hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up towards him. For a moment, he just stared at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he was making sure you were ready for this. Then, without another word, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade away as Cecil’s lips moved against yours. It wasn’t rough or hurried—no, it was careful, almost reverent, like he was savoring every second. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, spreading through your entire body. This was it—the kiss you’d been waiting for, the one that was supposed to change everything. And it was perfect.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. Cecil didn’t say anything for a moment, just studying your face with a satisfied grin.

“Well, how was that for your first kiss, doll?”

You laughed, still trying to catch your breath. “Not bad.”

Cecil raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Not bad? Come on, I think I deserve a little more credit than that.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “Fine. It was great. Happy?”

He chuckled, leaning back against the booth. “I’ll take it.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “Told you, though. No more kissing other men.”

You smirked, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I think I can live with that.

[the-traveling-poet]

hello darling! Congratulations on hitting 100 followers! 🥳 I honestly thought you had at least 1000 cause your writing is really good! And so here I am to request a second fic… could you do a Levi x lieutenant reader where the reader has lost someone close, maybe a sibling and even if she’s usually chatty and everything, now she seems distracted and absent and during a mission outside the walls, maybe to capture a titan or something she almost gets killed and wakes up near Levi in the hospital wing? Thank youuu 🧡🧡

Cleansing

With the fifty Seventh expedition led by the Scouting Corps beyond the walls on the rise, Lieutenant Y/N finds herself on the verge of breakdown. Distracted by the grief surrounding her heart over her late friend’s death the previous expedition, Y/N lands herself in the infirmary wing next to a familiar face.

Pairings: Lexi x Grieving!Reader

Warnings: language, depression, injuries, lost loved ones, SFW, grief-to-fluff, s2

Taglist: @21aurora If you want on the tag list for drabbles, headcannons, and one-shots, just DM me~

A/N: Thank you so much my lovely Alex!! I’m thrilled to have even reached 100 lovely followers 🤎 I’m sorry about the wait! I hope I did your vision justice! I always love your requests~ As always if anything wrote doesn’t meet your expectations, let me know and I’ll happily re-write!

Enjoy~

“Prepare yourselves! We ride out in five minuet’s time!”

Commander Erwin’s voice boomed out across the crowd of both citizens and soldiers alike, reaching the ears of everyone gathered. But for the first time in your enlisted life, the confidence in his tone did nothing to boost your morale.

You sat atop your steed near the middle of the crowd of soldiers, your head bowed as you stared down at your hands holding your horse’s reins.

Fifty seven expeditions the Survey Corps has undertaken, and somehow you still managed to draw breath after every single one of them that you’d been around to participate in.

Others hadn’t been so lucky as to survive the missions beyond the walls, and years ago you would mourn their deaths from afar. As a comrade, perhaps as an acquaintance of the fallen. But now…Now, everything was different.

Squeezing the leather straps of the reins, you forced your chin to raise up and locked your gaze somewhere far away from where you sat. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

Just a few weeks prior, had been the fifty sixth expedition out into titan territory. You’d figured, back then, everything would go as it always had.

Ride for your life, fight like hell, cover the rear guard, and pray to whatever might be out there you didn’t get your ass ripped a new one by a titan’s sharp teeth.

But you had been sorely mistaken, on that fateful day.

Your duty as Lieutenant within the Special Operations Squad was simple; aid Corporal Levi in any way he demanded, and cover your squad’s rear. But that day, you had been selfish.

There had been a girl. A girl you spent a good portion of your teenage life with while training to become a Scout. She had been nothing short of your un-biological sister. Your best friend. She wasn’t apart of your specialized squad, and you grew weary from the lack of contact the entirety of the formation had had that day with the right wing.

Levi’s command had fallen on deaf ears that afternoon when you steered your horse in another direction. You’d called over your shoulder you would return quickly, but your promise was quickly broken.

By the time you had reached the right wing’s position, you’d been too late. The dismembered and mutilated bodies of her squad laid all about the field in mangled heaps, their blood soaking deep into the earth. Titans roamed about the scene, lazily shifting through the corpses to find anyone alive to eat. Unable to take them all out on your own, and without any aid, you choked back your anguished cry and raised a flair gun over your head. Your vision had been blurred by unshed tears when you squeezed the trigger and rode off.

One last glance over your shoulder showed you what was left of your best friend; her body bitten into half and a silent scream frozen on her white face.

You’d never been the same since, and you didn’t figure you would ever be.

And you certainly knew you’d never forgive yourself for leaving her body out there. For leaving her in the first place, despite duty pulling you two apart.

Now, as you sat as still as a statue upon your horse, you forced your mind to wander elsewhere in your memories. Subtly you used your jacket’s sleeve to wipe at the corners of your eyes and focused your attention on the back of your Captain. He sat further up ahead of you all, nearer to Commander Erwin.

As if physically feeling your gaze on him, he turned to look over his shoulder and met your eye. You held his gaze, but showed no emotion on your face, which ironically matched his expression.

He raised a brow towards you, to which you merely gave a solemn nod. Taking that as all the confirmation he needed, he reluctantly drug his gaze away from you and faced the front.

As the gates began to slowly crank open on their rusted metal gears, you made a promise to yourself.

I won’t stop until you’re avenged, even if it costs me my last breath.

Though you were tasked with the rest of your squad to watch over the newest recruit, Eren Jeager, from the center of the formation, you kept your guard up and eyes peeled for any opportunity to seek your revenge against those man eating bastards.

Every titan that was spotted by your group once the formation had split up had been taken care of by you. You’d break away from the squad at every given opportunity to thin out the titan’s numbers, despite Levi’s constant reprimanding.

“Lieutenant L/N! Back in formation, now. We are not to engage unless necessary, you know this.”

“Sorry sir,” you’d mumble in response once you were back in place behind him, but you weren’t really paying attention to his words. With every kill you racked up, the less you could think straight. In order to keep the tears at bay, you just kept swinging.

═════════════════

A little over an hour later, the Forrest of Big Ass Trees (As Levi had dubbed it) loomed high up into the sky just a mile ahead. Hastening your pace, you followed your Captian inside and gripped your reins tighter.

You’d been briefly informed of the situation at hand the night before this expedition; so now you knew to just keep riding, and wait.

You knew you’d take your revenge soon enough…

By the time she appeared, your hands were off your reins and gripping the handles of your blades. Levi shot you a warning look over his shoulder, but said nothing. You both knew you wouldn’t jeopardize the whole purpose of this mission, emotional or not.

When the trap was sprung by your Commander, the last thread of your patience snapped. Springing into action, you shot away from the group to where you knew your Commander would be stationed, and took a deep breath.

Soon. Soon I’ll give your death reason.

To your surprise, Levi landed only a breath away from where you hung latched onto the tree and scoffed. Shifting slightly from how close he was to you, you held your breath.

“The hell was that, brat? You were supposed to supervise the squad after the bitch was captured.”

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled again, averting your gaze. “But this is personal.”

He gave you a strange look, somewhere between understanding and surprise. But again, he chose not to ask. He trusted you, after all. Even if he didn’t know what was on your mind at the moment.

So when the Female Titan began to scream, and the ground began to rumble and quake with the thuds of charging titans, Levi hadn’t expected for you to bolt forward into the masses.

His warning fell on deaf ears as Erwin commanded his soldiers to advance and take out as many titans as possible before they reached the Female. As you fought your way through tangled limbs and gnashing teeth, time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously. But only one thing stuck in your mind.

You were doing this for her.

But in your rage, you failed to hear Erwin’s command for retreat. Suddenly finding yourself alone in a hoard of titans broke you out of your haze, and panic took over. Large arms batted you this way and that as you did your best to swivel through the frenzy. Bones crunched under the pressure of harsh blows, cuts formed from poorly aimed swipes of your blades, human and titan blood alike blinding your vision and loosening your grip.

And suddenly, the world around you faded into a blur and went dark.

═════════════════

Startled yells and fearful screams snapped you back into consciousness. You jolted up, only to gasp as a sharp pain ran through your left leg and arm. Holding your injured arm close to your chest, you saw a makeshift sling tied around your limb. Groaning in both pain and annoyance, you lifted your gaze to view your surroundings.

You were holed up in a wagon with several other injured soldiers, some still unconscious. The world around you was moving fast as the Scouts made their retreat from the botched expedition.

Looking over the side of the fast moving cart, you saw Levi riding close by on his own horse. Your movement caused him to snap his gaze towards you, relief flooding his eyes before they turned sharp once more.

“Not a word, L/N. Just be thankful you’re alive.”

His words caught you off guard, causing you to furrow your brow in confusion.

“Captain, what do you me-“

“I said; Not. A. Word, L/N.” He shot back, keeping his eyes trained ahead. His jaw was clenched and his brows drawn close together in a scowl. He was stiff in his saddle, causing you to worry. But per his request, you managed not to voice your concerns just yet. You’d wait until you were all back safely within HQ. For now, you’d try to rest…

═════════════════

Stifling a yawn, you cracked your eyes open once more. Only, this time, you were back inside the walls. The infirmary within HQ, to be precise.

You heaved a sigh, feeling defeated and frustrated. Your body felt weak, shaky even as you lifted a bandaged hand up towards your face. The movement stung, but you did your best to ignore it.

Hearing a shuffle from the other side of the room, you slowly brought yourself up into a sitting position on the cot.

Across from your bed against the far wall stood Levi. His presence here confused you, until you saw the dust rag in his hand.

Thinking not much of it after this, you cleared your throat to speak. “Evening, Captain.”

His shoulders tensed as he glanced over his shoulder, silently evaluating your state. He was still in uniform, dressed and dirtied as though he hadn’t returned from the walls. It unnerved you, seeing the usually pristine man looking so ruffed up off duty.

He set down the cloth and turned to face you, slightly favoring his right ankle. This didn’t go unnoticed by you, but before you could ask he spoke.

“Finally awake? Took you long enough; we’ve been in this damn room for an hour.”

“An hour? We?” You questioned slowly. “You mean, you’re-“

“Fine. I’m fine.” He insisted gruffly, now looking off to the side. “Eyebrows threw a fit that I should have my ankle evaluated, so I’ve been here since you have.”

Glancing over the bed and down at his ankle, you saw he wasn’t applying any pressure to the joint; merely hovering his heel above the ground.

“Doesn’t look fine,” you mumbled. “Broken?”

“Broken,” he affirmed with a scoff.

“Damn…” you whispered, unable to hide your surprise. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Like you can speak. Doctors said you’ve got three broken bones. Arm, hand, and ankle. All left.” he snorted, doing his best to (discreetly) hobble closer to your cot and take a seat.

“I figured as much. But why are you standing? You should be sitting, or laying. You know, to support your ankle while it sets.” You rolled your eyes and changed the topic, worried about his injury.

“Tch, couldn’t just sit here all day. Not in a room this dusty.” He wrinkled in distance, glancing back over at where he’d left the dust cloth on the windowsill.

You sighed, but cracked a smile. “Of course not. We can’t have that. But…” you swung your legs over the side of the bed with a wince. “I can’t have you hobbling around doing it alone. You might get hurt.”

He watched you incredulously as you stood, gathering your balance before shuffling on your leg’s cast and inched towards the window. Levi limped after you, feinting annoyance.

“Again, like you can speak.”

Chuckling, you grabbed a second cloth and attempted to help him. You were his right, and he was your left.

“So, the others come to visit yet?” You asked absentmindedly, wondering where the rest of your squad was. Levi stiffened, his hand stopping in place on the windowsill. His silence started to eat at you as it drug on, leaving fear to cloud your mind.

“Levi…?”

“They…They didn’t make it,” he whispered, his gaze distant as it stared down at his hand.

═════════════════

By the time he had finished his recount of the events leading up to his injury, your hands shook and eyes watered with unshed tears.

“I failed them, too…” You whispered hoarsely.

“Too?” Levi asked softly, finally gazing over at you.

You just nodded, now unable to meet his eye.

“ ‘This is personal.’ Is this what you meant earlier? Why you were so fucking reckless?” He stated suddenly, his eyes narrowing. With a sigh, you gave in.

“Yeah…I’m sorry, but I had to avenge her. The friend I lost, on the fifty sixth expedition a few weeks back. My best friend…She died because I wasn’t there to help her. And now…the others…” You trailed off helplessly, tears finally falling freely down your face.

A sturdy hand found its way to your shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“L/N, don’t. You did your job as Lieutenant, and you fought well. Their deaths are not your fault.” Levi whispered, a strain in his tone.

Sniffling, you looked to him and saw the same grief that clouded your mind swimming there in his own eyes. You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling exhausted from having held in your emotions for so long.

“It’s not your fault, either.” You whispered as you felt the hand on your shoulder slowly slide up and pet the top of your hair.

“I’m just glad you’re still here. You don’t have to go through this alone, and now neither will I.”

A watery smile formed unbidden on your face as tears dribbled down your chin and onto his shirt. You’d never seen your Captain so open and vulnerable, even though right now you knew you looked the same. It sparked a curious flicker in your heart, one you heard resonate in his chest as you pulled him in.

Your silent promise to stay with him at his side, and his silent acceptance of you into his life. Maybe even someday, his heart.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

.....wouldn't trade it for the relative safety of this arrangement but I don't like how I can't test his trust for me anymore.

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Actual Snake Boyfriend (Jamil)

Huh, a giant snake? Well, it's not like you can be surprised by whatever this new world throws at you– wait, is that Jamil?

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

Naga! Jamil. A bit suggestive at the end?

Just some silliness, really. Prolly OOC.

— (⁠☞ﾟ⁠ヮﾟ⁠)⁠☞

Turning oneself into animals through magic is possible, but terribly taxing. Without proper training, one could overblot almost immediately

So the safest option is to drink a potion to change forms

(or to be Jack and have an Unique Magic that changes you into an ani)

But going back to the potions, they aren't simple to make, but a skilled potionologist can do it fairly easy

And when we're talking potionology, what duo is more qualified than Jamil and Azul?

(well, Vil and Rook, but shhhh)

At least, that's what they thought when Crewel told the class their task for the day

Except there was a slight miscalculation somewhere along the line

And now Jamil is a snake. Literally.

From waist down, he's a snake. Big, long snake, with shiny red, black and gold scales. Some scales also made their way up his back and under his eyes.

A few other things changed too: his nails became sharper, his fingers now a black gradient, his pupils are now slitted, and with his too long forked tongue, he can feel his already sharp canines become actual fangs.

Great. Jamil is very happy. Yay.

Thankfully, Crewel told him the effects of the potion would dissipate soon enough, maybe even later this same day.

So now he has to go through his day with about six feet of snake attached to his waist. At least he learns how to move quickly enough, not thanks to the Leech's terrible "tail advice"

Now, if only his crush the Prefect would stop staring.

— (⁠☞ﾟ⁠ヮﾟ⁠)⁠☞

"Can I help you?"

"Uh? Ah. No... sorry..." (Y/N) quickly looks away, failing to pretend she's interested on the book sitting on the counter in front of her.

It's been a few hours since Jamil turned into a naga, so he's had enough time to get used to the stares. He's never been one for having attention on him—easier to plot and scheme, after all—, but he can ignore most of it easily enough... unless the one staring is the Prefect, the Housewarden of Ramshackle. His heart cannot take being the recipient of her attention, specially when she seems to be drinking in his image with her eyes—if he's allowed to be a bit of a poet.

"You're staring again, Prefect," he points out as soon as he feels her gaze on him again, eyes glued on the food he's preparing in the hopes he won't blush too apparently.

Damn his stupid heart and its need to go in overdrive every time the girl is near. The time before his overblot was so much easier, when she was but a pawn for him to use. Now that he sees her as the incredible person she is, he has nowhere to escape.

"... Jamil, are you familiar with the term 'monster fucker'?"

If Jamil was eating something, he for sure would've died in a coughing fit.

"Pardon me?"

"Monster fucker is someone who is attracted to non-human beings, particularly the, uh, less human looking ones."

"..."

"..."

"... you want to fuck me?" is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, because it's the only thing his brain can process right now. Thankfully, he turned off the fire before she said that, or he'd burn something.

"Jams, you're the prettiest boy in this school, and I really like you, and you look really hot as a naga. Of course I want to fuck you!"

The hoodie is not enough for him to hide. He needs to dig a hole and die there right now. Not only because of his embarrassment over the sudden confession, but also because now that he is giving her 100% of his attention, his now heightened senses are telling him more things than he wants to know. Like the thumping of her heart, or the soft rustling of her rubbing her legs together, probably to alleviate tension.

Tension caused by Jamil.

And don't even get him started on the tantalizing smell of her arousal.

Dammit. The food will have to wait.