#i made 3 pieces of art over the course of 19 hours

[faeyuh]

redraw of my fav kokichi sprite!💜

i don't like him very much...

i'm back in the fucking building again!!!! i fully blame the game grumps for making me hyperfixate on danganronpa 😞

[aesthetixhoe]

spooky flirting — E.L.

warnings: underage drinking? (you and ethan are 19), cursing, scaryyyyy movies ;)

word count: ---

pronouns used: she/her, reader wears a dress

request: “Hey! I saw ur ethan landry headcannon ab e’s fav holiday being halloween and was wondering if u could do a fic where the reader and him bond over their love of halloween or something similar! xx ” ily sm for this idea nonnie! <33

might make a part 2, let me know if you guys want it!

Parties sucked. You always interrogated yourself on why you even went to them, you always ended up slightly drunk, with some random dudes number in your phone because you were too nice to decline, and a slight hangover. You could say it was because you were trying to have fun, meet new people, maybe hookup with someone. But if you were honest, you didn't know.

You sat on a couch, red solo cup in hand, slowly sipping whatever was in it, until a very blocky costume came into view. Your interest peaked, you looked over at him. It was a boy from your econ class Ethan... Laundry? Loundry? Something like that. He was wearing a knight costume, made fully out of cardboard. It made you smile.

Normally at frat parties it's just guys half naked. Like the one who walked in with Ethan, who was wearing a hat, ascot, and shorts.

“So Ethan, who're you gonna hit on tonight?” Chad hits Ethan's chest while he asks.

“W-what? No one!” He stutters out, turning red. How could Chad talk so freely about hitting on someone?

“C'mon man, you're a snack!” Chad yells over the music. “What about her? ” He nods over to you. Your costume, your hair, your face, everything about you made his eyes widen and his mouth drop into a small, open mouth smile.

“Woah...” His admiration of you made his cheeks flush further.

“I'll take that as a yes bro!” Chad smiles. His face falls when he sees the look of panic on Ethan's face.

That is until he realizes the cause of panic is simply because you're walking over. “Look! She wants you too dude. I'll leave you two alone!” he drags out the last word while walking away. Ethan is left alone and panicked, seeing how you haven't changed your course of direction.

“Hey, I like your costume! Did you make it?” You shout over the music. His eyes avoid yours, almost as if he's trying to convince himself that you're not there.

“Thanks!” He yells back. He looks so scared.

“Did you make it yourself?” You ask, moving behind a wall so you can hear his response.

“Yeah! I made it like 3 hours ago.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling as his smile gets wide. He looks so beautiful.

“Really? That's awesome!” You exclaim. You nod towards the door, hinting that you wanted to go outside.

He followed your lead, moving outside and sitting on the porch of the house. You could finally hear each other without having to shout. “But yeah, I made it. I really like Halloween so I knew I wanted to do something handmade, but my room mate, Chad, didn't give me much of a heads up... That's why this isn't the best looking.” He explains, looking at his lap and playing with his fingers.

“Hey, I still think it looks awesome! Like your helmet? That has amazing attention to detail dude. Who knew a guy could be good at economics and art.” You snicker under your breath. He looks over at you bewildered for knowing you two shared a class. Sure, you didn't know his last name, but you knew he was Ethan, he was cute, and he was good at econ.

“You know we have econ together?” He asks quietly, almost as if he was asking it to himself instead of you.

“Yeah, I know you're Ethan... Something... I know it is like Laundry but not quite!” You say, embarrassed you don't know his last name.

“Landry...” He blushes.

“Well hello, Ethan Landry. I'm [Y/n] [Y/L/N].” You stick out your hand to him, which he hesitantly grabs. His hands are warm. “So you like Halloween you said?” You ask, trying to make small talk.

“Yeah! I uh... Actually went through a small cosplay phase where I made my pieces myself...” He trailed off, letting go of your hand as he gets embarrassed. “Yeah, Halloween is my favorite.” He says simply, and sadly.

“Mine too!” You nudge him with your shoulder. “There's no reason to be embarrassed around me, by the way. I think it's cool you used to cosplay, I kinda always wanted to.” you smile sweetly at him.

“I don't like to think about it...” He shyly laughs.

“I really like your laugh...” You think aloud, catching both you and Ethan off guard. You clear your throat, trying to move on quickly, “So, what's your favorite Halloween candy?”

“I like chocolate, so basically everything is good for me.” He jokes for the second time tonight. He was starting to get more comfortable with you, and you were really happy about it.

There's a beat of silence where you're both just looking at each other smiling. He had such pretty eyes. And lips... And face.

He leans into your ear and whispers in your ear “So [Y/n], what's your favorite scary movie..?” Yup, he was definitely getting comfortable. His breath was hot against your ear and cheek, giving you goosebumps.

This was a huge step out of Ethan's comfort zone. He never flirted with anyone. Let alone a very attractive girl like you.

“I uh... I don't know, would you wanna watch a scary movie with me sometime?”

“W-What?” He looks at you, falling back into his flustered self.

“Yeah! You could come to my place, I have Netflix, Hulu, all of ‘em. No pressure though, if you don't want to that's ok!” You preface looking up at him, awaiting a response.

“Uh... Yeah. Ok.” He smiles small, playing with his fingers again.

“How about tomorrow?” You ask him while pulling out your phone.

“Yeah, that's good for me.”

“Ok, type in your number and I'll text you my address.” You explain while giving him your phone. He smiles to himself, cheeks turning a light pink when he notices that for the contact name you've typed in “Ethan :)” He was smiley face worthy.

After you've taken your phone back, you stand, ready to say goodbye and leave. He was a touch sad, realizing what was about to happen. He really liked talking to you. He didn't want it to be over.

“I'll text you when I get home! See ya tomorrow Ethan.” You call out, walking backwards away from the house.

“Bye!” He smiles. God you were beautiful.

He just stood there, looking at the spot you were sitting in a few moments ago.

“Yes dude! I knew you had it in you!” He hears a familiar voice shout out from behind him. Ethan's head drops fully, groaning.

“Chad, shut up!”

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

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When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

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(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

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None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

[missymurphy1985]

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

[crystaltrinket]

you put a move on me - Naruto - Uchiha Sasuke/Hyuuga Hinata - drabble series for SasuHina Month 2021

Summary: Rogue-nin Sasuke holds Hinata captive after an act of robbery goes awry.

[Rating: G-T? | Prompt: A Tribute To Your Favorite Fanart/Fic | Word Count: too many to count at this hour | Warnings: None]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Author's Note: Whew! Honestly, I had half of this done yesterday and worked on the rest today. Please forgive any mistakes. I relied on Google docs to correct my grammar.

I don't have a specific favorite SasuHina art or fic, so I just put together my favorite elements in SasuHina fic. Hope that works. This part is a little bit longer since I included 10 Omake pieces from Hinata's POV. Part 31 is wayyyy at the bottom but follows directly after Omake 29.5.

I hope you enjoy! And I hope to see you again next year ;) @sasuhinamonth

Omake Part 1.5 - 100 words

Hinata could feel herself moving. She willed her eyes to open but her body didn't obey. 'Am I dying? Is this death?'

She heard a low voice curse. Hinata tried to remember what happened before her vision went black. She remembered dressing in her finest kimono, getting into the palanquin and heading toward the country's borders to meet her new civilian husband. And then...

'Ah, yes,' she thought. 'The bandit murdered my clansmen in charge of handing me over to my new prison.' Red eyes came into her mind. Red eyes that could only belong to one clan.

'Uchiha Sasuke.'

Omake Part 7.5 - 100 words

Hinata steeled herself against her captor. She's no fool. She heard the rumors of his strength. Hinata figured the only way to deal with him was to pretend she was talking to another elder. Her clan head voice was something she perfected before she was cast away.

--

They rarely talked during their travels. But when he asked why she continued to follow him, she wished he kept silent. She was sure he could hear her heart beating loud in her chest.

Remembering her clan voice, she lifted her chin and answered.

Her shoulders almost slumped in relief, hearing his laughter.

Omake 10.5 - 100 words

Hinata could tell he was lying.

She can't imagine he accepted his clan's massacre so easily. To live without hearing their voice, seeing their smile, feeling their touch. Hinata's heart clenched.

She knew herself how the loss of a loved one can affect a person's psyche.

Unfortunately, O-bon festivities don't allow a grieving person the impact of acceptance.

Still, she doesn't pry and lets him rest. Her eyes wandered to him laying beside her on the hillside. Without his perpetual frown, he looked peaceful.

Hinata closed her eyes and exhaled.

She wished she could feel as peaceful as Sasuke looked.

Omake Part 12.5 - 100 words

She repeated those words to herself after Sasuke's team found out she was a missing-nin. Hinata shut her eyes, unwilling to cry. She couldn't give up her freedom now.

'I don't want to go back.'

Hinata felt a light tap on her shoulder. Sasuke was ready to go.

--

He said nothing to her on their journey. He didn't mention where they were headed to his teammates either.

She half expected him to desert her. The other half hoped that he wouldn't leave her.

At night, she repeated those same words to him. His eyes were understanding and she felt relief.

Omake 17.5 - 100 words

Hinata softly cursed. Of course her plan to lure the ANBU team away didn't work. Nothing ever worked in her favor.

She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best course of action to save Sasuke. Hinata grinned, seeing the telltale sway of long brown hair.

She deactivated her bloodline and made herself comfortable in her position. She waited.

--

Hinata was ready to confront them and rescue Sasuke at sunrise. But a commotion entirely not her own, brought them out ready to strike. Seeing her opportunity, Hinata revealed herself. Chakra blazed at her hands.

"I'll fight you for him."

Omake 22.5 - 100 words

Sasuke's breathing steadily became regular as she talked about their former village. She continued a little more even though he was already in deep sleep. Hinata glanced over her shoulder to peek at him. Carefully, she turned to fully face him.

Hinata studied him. Memorizing every line from his travels, the eyebags from lack of sleep, the face that she grew accustomed to seeing everyday.

She felt tears drip from her eyes. 'I can't believe I was so foolish.' Hinata hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders gently shook as she tried to maintain composure in Sasuke's sleeping embrace.

Omake 25.5 - 180 words

Frustration bubbled inside her. Karin and Suigetsu, sitting across from each other, continued to argue despite their shared goal. Hinata sat adjacent to them, anger simmering underneath her calm façade.

"Hinata-sama," Juugo came up behind her, carrying a tray of tea. He placed the tray beside her and took his place, sitting behind her.

"Thank you, Juugo-san," Hinata took the lone cup. "Had I known it would be like this, I would've left myself."

"Sometimes, they need a little help." His voice lowered. "If you know what I mean, Hinata-sama."

She hummed thoughtfully and sipped from her cup, testing the temperature.

"This is very good tea, Juugo-san," Hinata placed it back on the tray.

The large man bowed his head, smiling. "Thank you, Hinata-sama."

The other two continued to argue, their thumping rattling the tray.

Hinata moved swiftly, her fingers deftly touching their chakra points.

Stunned, the two bickering teammates fell on the ground.

"What gives?!" Karin yelled. Suigetsu sneered at her from his position.

Hinata calmly retrieved her tea. "Now, I have your attention. Let's talk about rescuing Sasuke."

Omake 27.5 - 100 words

Juugo's birds flew up in a tree, ending their journey.

"Tell Juugo-san, thank you," she whispered.

Hinata felt her blood coursing through her veins. Her fingertips tingled in trepidation.

They couldn't afford to risk Sasuke's strength. She knew who he was up against.

She snuck around the prison, evading the guards surrounding the perimeter. Hinata scaled the prison wall to reach the roof. She quickly found the ventilation shaft.

Taking a deep breath, she concentrated her thoughts on locating Sasuke's chakra signature.

'There!' It was weak, but it was his. Gritting her teeth, she made her way down the shaft.

Omake 29.5 - 172 words

Hinata knew Sasuke felt the same. The village was too quiet, too accepting of their vagrant ways. It seemed all too convenient a vacant house was available. With the previous owner having died alone, it was an opportune moment for them to move in with the village's blessing.

--

Months soon turned to a year. Sasuke's teammates came and went as they pleased, leaving Hinata with Sasuke.

She found him in the cold, practicing his kata. He moved fluidly going through the motions ingrained in his body.

She didn't want to bother him, but she knew better than to leave without notice.

"I'll be at the market," she called out. He paused mid-form to walk over to her. Seeing him in front of her, Hinata noticed his breaths were visible from the biting cold. "Is your kata keeping you warm?”

He smirked. "Aa." His eyes studied her as he tucked stray hair behind her ear. "Don't take too long."

Hinata felt her face warm up as she looked up to his face. "Aa."

Part 31 - 632 words

She went through the market, politely greeting everyone who knew her. Here, she was Hana and he was Makoto, two people not quite married but living together.

The market was a little busier during this time of year. The village was preparing for their annual snow festival. Hefting her groceries in her arms, Hinata left to return to her home.

"H-Hana-san!"

Hinata turned at the sound of her alias. A young man came up to her out of breathe. "Oh, Shigure-kun! H-How can I help you?"

The young man blushed. "I-I wanted to help you with your groceries. To carry them for you, I mean."

"That's kind of you to do, Shigure-kun," Hinata smiled. "But I'll be alright." She took a step towards the pathway to her home.

"Please, allow me," he reached for one of the bags. "I'm not surprised Makoto-ji-san isn't here to help." The young man scoffed. "He never seems to help you."

Hinata slightly turned from the boy so her groceries were out of reach. "I don't mind. Makoto-san doesn't need to help me."

"Hana-san, I -- " the young man stopped, his eyes frozen in fear.

Hinata looked at him confusedly, before feeling familiar chakra behind her.

"She said beat it, kid," Sasuke growled.

Shigure regained his composure and looked straight at Hinata. He took a deep breath and bowed. "Hana-san, I want to say that I like you and I hope to see you at the winter festival!" He straightened and turned his eyes to Sasuke. "Makoto-ji-san," he said through clenched teeth and bowed his head. "Good day to you."

Hinata looked between the two males, caught in a gridlock.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Sasuke said menacingly. Shigure nodded again and stiffly turned on his heel to leave.

--

A few days later, Hinata found herself at the winter festival, admiring the fresh snow on the plum blossoms and the ice sculptures carved by the village's artisans. Beside her, Sasuke walked with a hand on the small of her back, eyes roving around for the troublesome boy.

"I don't think Shigure-kun will come around, don't you think?" Hinata giggled behind the thick sleeve of her kimono.

Sasuke grumbled. "He won't if he knows what's good for him."

Hinata grabbed a hold of his sleeve. "Come, let's enjoy the festival."

Hinata pulled him around the village, visiting artisan stalls and eating sweets to her heart's delight. Sasuke showed no interest but indulged her whims.

Hinata's teeth started to chatter as they continued with the festivities. She felt Sasuke wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"Come, maybe the weeping plum blossom tree will provide some insulation." He guided her towards the pink flowered tree covered in snow.

"Isn't it beautiful, Sasuke?" she said in awe. She gingerly touched a low hanging branch causing some snow to fall.

"Aa," he answered. "Absolutely beautiful."

Hinata turned to see him gazing intently at her. "Sasuke? Is something wrong?"

Sasuke blinked and turned his head away. He shoved his hands into his kimono sleeves.

Hinata stepped closer to him, using him as a way to shield her eyes from the passing villagers. She activated her Byakugan.

"Sasuke, I don't see anyone tracking us..." Hinata blinked away her bloodline. "I--"

Hinata's arms folded against Sasuke's chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I was going to wait a little while longer," he whispered in her ear. Hinata felt her heart pound at the warmth of breath on her ear.

"Wait for what?"

Sasuke gently pushed her away to place something in her hand. Hinata gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. His fingers came up to wipe them away.

"Marry me, Hinata."

Hinata looked up, seeing a small smile on Sasuke's face.

"Yes," she gently smiled, bringing his face closer to hers. "Yes."

[cinebration]

Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Part 7]

Solo confronts you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Epilogue

Tagged: @ly–canthrope​, @maan24​, @eefjedegraaf​, @omgkatinka​, @illbegoinhome, @tiffanypooh​​​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: franksgrillo

Solo waited in exquisite torture. Mind still reeling from the revelation earlier that evening, he sat in the salon of your hotel room, his gaze trained on the gilt doors shutting you away from him in the bedroom.

He wanted to burst in and wake you up with an over-exaggerated “AHA!” and shove your face in his newfound knowledge.

It took all of his self-control—of which he had little, given his tendency to indulge in things when he wanted them—to sit in the chair and watch the minutes tick by until morning.

It gave him ample opportunity to think.

After some prodding, Solo had managed to glean more information from Schwartz. You had personally painted eight pieces—copies of paintings from various artists, both famous and obscure—for the man, reaping in an amount of money that very nearly rivaled Solo’s own amassed fortunes selling the real things.

It irked him.

Not simply because you weren’t as pristine as you pretended—he had known there had to be dirt—but because you dared to look down your nose at him. You were as much a criminal as he was, and yet you wielded a grandiose sense of superiority with a finesse he almost envied.

As midnight passed and the wee hours of the morning trudged by, Solo found himself revisiting his old heists. Making a mental tally of his sales on the black market, he felt himself doing so only out of a need to prove himself to be the better criminal. Other than getting caught, of course…

Eyebrows arching in surprise, he let the thought sit. Waverly had approached you, you had claimed, and you had chosen Solo as your partner. A partner in crime, given the nature of this particular mission. You demanded and took control as though you were hungry for it, starved for it elsewhere in your life.

It clicked: You had also been caught. Yet unlike Solo, you hadn’t made a name for yourself.

Then again, a forger wouldn’t make a name for themselves. They traded on others’.

Sunrise dawned slowly on the city, gilding the buildings in brilliant gold and silver. Solo watched it absentmindedly from his seat, glancing at the ornate timepiece on the mantle to his right every few moments to check the time.

Beyond the doors, you shifted in bed. The susurrus of the sheets alerted Solo to your presence. Straightening, he smoothed out his tie and vest, crossed his legs, and affected a seemingly relaxed demeanor.

The toilet flushed. Water ran into the sink. Hangers slid across the closet rod. Clothes whispered against skin.

Solo plucked up the cup of coffee he had had brought up earlier and held its plate in his left hand, his other hand playing lightly with its rim.

Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.

Silence beyond the doors.

The handles turned simultaneously. As the doors opened, you appeared at their center, dressed in flowing trousers and a shapely silk tunic. A frown creased your face as you saw Solo.

“It couldn’t have been that odious to try and sleep,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t bite. In my sleep, at least.”

Seeing the coffee, you smiled and glanced around the salon. “Did you order breakfast?”

Solo smiled back. “No.”

The twinkle in his eyes gave you pause. Your frown returning, you stepped into the room, casting about for unusual signs. The balcony was empty. The wet bar’s drinking supply hadn’t changed since the night before.

There was just Solo sitting there, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“What is it?”

The trepidation in your voice made Solo’s toes curl in his high-end Oxfords. He could feel the reins of control being handed back to him.

“I met with an acquaintance of yours,” he admitted, watching the look of unease unveiling across your face. “He had some interesting facts to impart. Namely, that you know the criminal underworld quite well.”

He glanced back up to your face and hesitated. The unease had disappeared, replaced with a flat expression he found uncomfortable.

“No more than you do,” you said quietly, an edge in your voice.

Solo felt the reins tug in his grasp. Refusing to relinquish them, he continued, “Tell me…did you paint forgeries because you could or because your own art wasn’t good enough?”

A harsh laugh exploded from your throat, startling him even as it pleased him. Drawing nearer, you asked, “Is that the best you’ve got?”

He blinked, felt the reins slipping again.

Circling around the table, you stood before him, stared down your nose. “I did it because I could and because of what it afforded me. It’s no different than why you did it.”

“Exactly. You’re no better than me.”

That harsh laugh again. This close, Solo felt it in his chest, felt his teeth grind.

“You’re a thief,” you declared. “I am an artist. You steal and resell. I make and sell.”

“It all sounds the same to me.”

“Of course it does.” Pulling back from him, you settled into the opposite chair, crossing your legs in that eye-catching manner Solo couldn’t ignore, and continued, “Do you recall that piece you sold in fifty-four?”

It was Solo’s turn to feel the unease. “Yes.”

“Two months after you sold it, it was miraculously ‘found’ in the possession of Lucas Greer and donated to the Louvre. But you didn’t sell it to Greer.”

When Solo had heard of Greer’s possession of the piece, he had thought it strange but had pushed past it. He had made a mint selling it to someone else; what they did with it afterward wasn’t his concern.

“It was always in Greer’s possession,” you said. “The original, that is.”

Solo felt the reins yanked entirely out of his grasp. “If he had the original—”

“Then you sold a fake. My fake. You made me double commission on that one.”

“It wasn’t a fake. I know it wasn’t.”

“Can you be sure? Would you stake your life on it?”

Solo stared into your hard, unwavering expression. It wasn’t a fake. If it was, that means I was…

“I didn’t think so.” Plucking the coffee cup out of Solo’s hands, you took a long sip despite despising its taste, staring at him over the rim. When you set the empty cup back on its platter in his hand, you smiled warmly and stood.

“We have a meeting with the buyers of the weapon,” you said. “Shower and change, please. I’ll figure out breakfast.”

You swept out the front door, leaving Solo alone, stupefied. He stared down at the coffee cup, at the lipstick stain you had left on its rim.

He couldn’t believe it. Your contempt wasn’t out of a sense of unearned superiority. It was because you knew you had duped him. The great Napoleon Solo, master thief with a name known in the black market and in intelligence agencies worldwide, deceived by someone whose identity no one but Waverly seemed to know.

Wounded pride rose alongside another emotion he wasn’t prepared to feel: admiration.

[sevsnapeposts]

Snapetober Day 3: Pumpkin carving.

hello everyone. this took more than it should've, honestly, but here it is. i feel like a made a mistake somewhere on the translation but oh well. Sev POV btw. feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if you'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 3 - Pumpkin craving.

--

Severus had an incredible ability to carve pumpkins. Where it came from, he had no idea, but he was capable of making all kinds of faces and figures, from a classic malevolent pumpkin to minimal landscapes and human faces. The most impressive thing is that he did it without the use of a wand: Armed with a good knife and an occasional extra object, he carved the pumpkin in the most traditional way possible.

He knew of the existence of his gift since he was a child. He was 8, on the first Halloween for which his mother had gotten some money to decorate his room, in an attempt to give him some happiness. The woman had done this after they passed one of the most beautiful houses on the street, which had a lot of little lights and scary decorations, and she noticed the glint of longing in her little son's eyes.

So, Eileen had managed to get some pumpkins at the fruit stand a few blocks away. There were three of them, a bit ugly and old, as well as small, but that would be more than enough for her and her child.

Severus clearly remembered the expression of his mother, who had marveled when he, using the razor with great care, had perfectly copied the face of the largest pumpkin in that house. Eileen's face had lit up like never before, the usual melancholy and weariness of her fading completely. She had laughed, and hugged him, and she let him carve the other two pumpkins, keeping a close eye to avoid any accidents, even though Severus was more than capable of doing it without a hitch.

The little pumpkins didn’t make it to Halloween though, because three days later (and two days before that date), Tobias found them and smashed them in half, shouting in his drunkenness that in his house no one was going to celebrate those stupid festivities, nor have decorations, nor spend money or time on them.

Severus had cried himself to sleep.

When he met Lily, however, he again had the opportunity to demonstrate his art. Lily took all of the pumpkins to her house, and they all adorned the Evans' yard even after Halloween, only being removed when Christmas got close enough. She had been fascinated, and during her years at Hogwarts, when the time came, she would always get one or two for him to carve out some pretty ornaments and then take them to her bedroom. Even after the end of their friendship, as a kind of apology, tribute, or torture (he didn't know which of the three, honestly), Severus would make pumpkins with flowers and leave them lying around, never close enough to any of them.

After Lily's death, Severus hadn't carved one again.

At least until that day. October had just begun, and he was stuck in Malfoy Manor keeping Lucius company, who since the divorce complained that the mansion was "too big and empty." Severus thought he well deserved it, but he still appreciated him too much to refuse an explicit invitation to stay with him for that month, as a more than special guest.

Of course, Prue was there too. Severus couldn't understand how she had gotten through things so easily, how she was able to sit at the same table as the man who had caused her so much fear and so many nightmares; but if she was comfortable enough with him to agree to stay at his house, then he had no say in it.

In any case, Lucius hadn’t invited them just because he could: He also knew that this was the now young woman's favorite month, and therefore, he couldn’t give her a better gift than to let her spend all those dates without lifting a finger, with elves attending all her wishes and without any responsibility beyond taking one side or the other between the "very mature" arguments the two men had all the time.

Prue always sided with Severus, unless Lucius bribed her with chocolates.

Be that as it may, at the time, the trio were in the back garden of the mansion, where a heap of pumpkins of all sorts of sizes and shapes were being arranged by a couple of elves.

"Overdone as always", Severus said, sighing through his nose and rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. Lucius smiled at him, pleased as always to show off his ability to do whatever he pleased.

"I thought you might need a few to practice first", the blond replied.

"There are more than fifty", commented Prue, who was standing between them, holding hands with Severus.

Happens that, during breakfast, Lucius had brought up Severus' old custom with pumpkins. Prue proved she was very interested in it, as she had never imagined that he would have any artistic ability, and she had asked him to see some of his work. He was saying that it was not a big deal, and that he hadn’t touched a pumpkin for more than 19 years, and that there wasn’t even one there, when Lucius called his elves and sent them to buy "a few", declaring that he wouldn’t escape giving them a show and, incidentally, decorating the mansion.

Lucius was undoubtedly still fulfilling Prue's whims.

"Well, I suppose we can sit here whilst you slaughter a few vegetables”, purred the master of the manor. Just after he pronounced those words, one of the elves snapped its fingers, three chairs and two tall benches appearing near the trio. Lucius invited Prue to sit down while he handed Severus the "pumpkin killing tools," as the youngest of the three had called them. In return, he asked for his wand. “To avoid cheating. You always said it was manual”.

"And it is", Severus replied with annoyance, though he still held out his wand, which Lucius tucked into his coat. Then he went to sit in the chair next to Prue, who was watching them intently with those pretty eyes. Severus noticed that she was smiling slightly at him, and returned the gesture.

"I think an average pumpkin would be a good start", Lucius commented, crossing one leg over the other. Prue nodded, and the blond drew his own wand, pointing at a medium pumpkin, which floated up to the trio, hovering in the air in front of him. He used a simple incantation to empty the inside of the fruit, and Severus took it at last.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous, but he still got to work on it.

Half an hour later, the first pumpkin was ready. It had a normal face, not very elaborate, and it smiled wickedly. Lucius scored it with a "not bad at all," as he stared at the fruit, head laying on Prue's shoulder (who had only stiffened a bit). Then they both asked him to do another.

And so, by the end of the day, almost all of the pumpkins had been carved. Severus had done most of them, his designs the prettiest and most striking for obvious reasons. He had even made a special one for his two companions: For Lucius, a pumpkin with a snake that wrapped itself around it and finally looked straight ahead with its fangs poking out; and for Prue, a pumpkin-cat of Lucifer.

The rest had been done mainly by Prue, who was encouraged to try after the fifth one. She had just carved funny and cute faces, although one of the pumpkins had been hidden away from everyone and she didn’t let them see it. Lucius scoffed saying that she sure had fucked it up and she didn't want to be humiliated, to which Prue threw an unused pumpkin at his head, making Severus laugh.

The blond ended up using the one that had been thrown at him to carve it himself, although halfway there he got despaired and used his wand to finish it. Severus called him a sore, dirty cheater.

In any case, by the time they went to bed a long time later, after having dinner and entertaining Prue with ghost stories, the entire mansion was already illuminated with the dim light emerging from within the pumpkins. Severus was proud of his creations, and terribly flattered that something he had made was displayed like a trophy for all to see.

His feeling of happiness increased much more when, coming out of the bathroom after taking a shower, he found the sweet scene that was seeing Prue asleep in the bed they shared, covered up to her nose and with her beautiful face totally relaxed, as it was only when she had a day that she had fully enjoyed. Next to her, leaning against the pillow that belonged to the man, was the pumpkin that she hadn’t let anyone see. Severus took it delicately and turned it, finding a carving of a cauldron from which a heart was emerging. Looking between the openings, he noticed that there was a piece of parchment inside of it, which he pulled out with the help of his long fingers.

"Thank you for teaching me how to carve pumpkins. I made this with you in mind. I love you."

That night, for the first time in over 30 years, Severus Snape slept not only with decorations in his room, but with a smile that persisted until dawn.

[borkthemork]

Got tagged by @calamity-unlocked for the procrastinating writer ask, and might as well! Always fun to get away from the pains of editing, RIP to Falling Down Dry’s eighth chapter.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

26.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

220,000.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

A lot. Just...a lot before I got into Ao3 so let’s keep it at that. But mainly I wrote for SU, Amphibia, and FMA.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

-Death of the Ego

I would say this happened because I wrote this at the right place at the right time. People had been theorizing that Steven would get corrupted ever since the trailer to SUF, and I originally made this as a one-shot...until people encouraged me to start exploring it.

Wouldn’t say it was my best work, but every time I wrote something it meant I improved slowly, and I would always appreciate that no matter the weather.

-Doesn’t Have to be Solo

Oh man, I loved this one! Just a series of connected events with Steven going on his road trip, and learning more about himself and who he was along the way. It also was the fic where I needed a lot of beta readers as time went on, so it made me learn a lot about grammar, prose, and overall the internal rules I developed while writing in general.

-Beyond the Music Box

This was the surprising one! This fic was originally a place where I could archive all the drabbles I written on Tumblr, and y’all really wanted it due to how chaotic my tag format is for this stuff.

It’s surprising for me because I didn’t expect a lot of love when it came to my casual writings since they take I don’t know an hour or so in creating, so thank you everyone who encouraged me to do this.

Just ignore the fact I’ve been lazy at updating the drabbles, shhhh.

-Building One Up

Marcanne, my beloved. Me and my friend kept talking about how Anne was a buff dork and this was at a time where no one really focused on that except mainly on Sasha when it came to strength (for obvious reasons).

I found this slander (I’m joking, by the way) and decided that I needed to write my feelings out on the topic.

And y’all agreed with me so dthdfthtfhtfht.

This also was the first time I had to hone in on a new form of characterization entirely, being that I infused the character’s thoughts and feelings into the way the prose flowed out itself. For Marcy, I went on a pretty analytical front with this piece, and it helped me get into the groove for people like Anne and Sasha and many others over the course of writing.

-Late Night Talks

I didn’t expect this one to blow up at all. I wrote this at one a.m. and y’all just grabbed this fic and ran, I am still confused.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I respond to comments all the time because comments just give a lot of serotonin, you know? Someone took their time out of their day to remark on things I did in the work itself, and it’s just very validating to see. It also creates this environment that says, “Yes, I see you, and you can interact with me anytime you want.” so it’s all about that friendliness unless you’re rude to me back.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Pizza for One. Had an angst kick when SUF occurred so I milked it whenever my motivation got the best of me.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write crossovers unless you mean a crossover of characters to a new environment and set of rules. I would gladly write characters into the FMA world, oh my Lord!

But I guess the craziest stuff I’d written would just be comedy sketches? Best example would be Joe and Bessie having kids and Marcy having a conniption over it, so take that what you will.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t believe so? I did get one person on my old SU fic asking me to continue while giving me unsolicited advice but they apologized not soon after.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write smut. I write it privately but I adore characterization and intimacy, and so I try to make rather domestic pieces that connect to the characters themselves. If it has a certain kink, I make sure to research it so I could understand why the character finds the act rather arousing, and I just want to pay respects to the act itself.

Even with our current day and age, there’s still a lot of conservative anti-sex rhetoric going around, and I always try to view the act of physical intimacy in the same lens as one who adores love in all its different facets and forms.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope to that either!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sadly, no. I do art trades with people and those are lovely to do since we get to brainstorm and make art together, but I’ve never co-written work with someone. If anyone wants to do that, then sure, just hit me up.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

It changes every season, every morning tide, every peace loving hour on the Planet Earth.

It’s Marcanne, right now.

When it comes to ships I always go with the Friends-to-Lovers dynamic, but a lot of the ships I have come from seeing the amount of intrigue in how that type of ship would play out. That could be with Kannao and the amount of commentary over Japanese gender biases, or Royai with their very complicated but extensive adoration and loyalty to one another.

For Marcanne, it’s all about that playful banter that could definitely bubble out of the surface if you just (bangs table) allow them to communicate and be transparent fully. (cries)

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Sadly, that Anne fic with her confiding in Hop Pop after they get settled in her house. After what happened with the sneak peek, I realized that this fic would need a lot of build-up to be satisfying and I didn’t have the strength to do a 10k build-up to Anne crying.

Maybe I’ll finish it, we’ll see.

15) What are your writing strengths?

Writing strengths would be concise prose and characterization. I am a worry wart, I worry over the importance of each paragraph and how it all forms and transitions together, it’s just a part of how I work a great deal of the time. And man, characterization is the big one for me, if I don’t understand how the people work and could theoretically function in the story itself, I feel absolutely lost.

Which is also the reason why I’m struggling right now with FDD Chapter Eight, because Marcy’s reaction to Yunan keeps eluding my grasp!

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I overthink a lot. Concise prose is great but I force myself to get all fancy and massive with details since I’ve got to unless I want a specific part to be so quick and unmeaningful, and this leads to pacing issues or just not enough intended time for people to breathe in the fic itself.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I need to get a beta to make sure I don’t sound like an asshole, haha. I do love other languages, they are beautiful and can add a lot towards an audience who does know the language itself, but it depends on the work I’m doing.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would be uhhhhh, my memory is lacking but Minecraft. The whole videogame had a wish fulfillment atmosphere to it, and since I got rather obsessed by how anything could happen in the engine itself I went with it.

19) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

When it comes to me, my own perception of my art changes day to day. Back when I first posted the Lapidot fic I thought it was the best thing I’ve ever done even though now, with the knowledge I have from workshops and betas, that the style I drafted had a lot of grammar and prose mistakes that I wouldn’t make in the future. It is pretty subjective, but for now I think the best fic I could look at right now would be amestrian catcher (set something ablaze).

Thank you Calamity once again for this! And I’ll be tagging @resplendent-chungus, @aanau, and @golddragon387!

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (Epilogue 2)

Epilogue 2

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21, ch 22, ch 23, epilogue, epilogue 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,053

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

Jungkook was waiting for her outside the building, a rose in his hand. Catalina’s nose scrunched into a smile as she skipped down the stone steps.

France was overwhelming; the architecture everywhere was ancient and beautiful, and the history was fascinating and rich. The people were a bit rude, especially once they realized they were Americans. They were only a bit more forgiving when Namjoon, Taehyung, and Yoongi showed off their fluent French.

The theater Catalina had her audition in was stunning. The outside was all white columns and friezes, the inside was mosaic tiled floors and painted ceilings.

               When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she dropped her dance bag and threw herself into Jungkook’s arms.

               “You got me a rose?” she asked, leaning back just enough to look at the rose in his hand.

               “Of course I got you a rose,” he said. “You think I’d let you step out of an audition without a rose?”  

               Catalina giggled and took the flower from him.

               “How did it go? Did you get in?” he asked.

               “I don’t know yet,” said Catalina. “They’re going to do callbacks in a few days.”

               “Good thing we’re staying for a while,” said Jungkook.

               “But honestly, it doesn’t matter if I get in or not,” said Catalina. “There’s always next year. And There’s always plenty of shows.”

               “Yeah, you have all the time in the world,” said Jungkook. He stared at her for a moment, then whispered, “I want you to turn me.”

               “Oh yeah?” Catalina asked. She had been waiting for this. She knew that he was worried about aging without her, she could see it his eyes sometimes when they went to bed together, knowing she wouldn’t fall asleep. She especially saw it on his birthday. “You’re still young.”

               “I know, but I’m already the same age as you now,” he said.

               “Oh no! You’re the same age as me! You basically have one foot in the grave already!” Catalina giggled.  “You should take your time. You get hotter every year. Let yourself ripen a bit before doing this.”

               He laughed loudly and tugged her closer.

               “That’s true,” he said.

               “Wait until we both graduate,” said Catalina. “We can talk then.”

               “You’re pulling an Edward on me?” he said. “Next thing I know, it’ll be, ‘wait until we’re married’.”

               Catalina giggled and swatted his arm. “You’re being a baby.”

               “I know. I’m kidding,” he said. “I can wait.”

               “Besides, we need time to explore the wonders of blood drinking during sex,” she said. “Did you know there’s aphrodisiacs in the venom when you drink from someone? It’s supposed to make them pliant, but it doesn’t turn them into a vampire.”

               “That sounds hot,” said Jungkook. “Also, I am a fan of being manhandled. I’m not ready for that to end just yet.”

               “I know. We might need a chaperone though,” she said, tapping her chin. “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop once I got started. You smell way too good.”

               “We have plenty of time to work out the specifics,” said Jungkook. “I need time to get hotter each year, so we’ll figure it out.”

               They both laughed as they went to the car waiting for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

               Taehyung loved the Louvre. It was like a dream come true, wandering the unending corridors, seeing all the classics he’s idolized for hundreds of years.

               “Taehyungie, what’s this one called?” Jimin asked. His hand was covering the informational plaque under a series of paintings depicting a man looking at a celestial globe. Jimin had been doing this for hours, but Taehyung didn’t mind. He loved sharing what he knew about all his favorite pieces.

               “That’s ‘The Astronomer’, by Vermeer,” said Taehyung. Jimin smiled and strolled ahead down the corridor, in search of his next quiz. It was a weekday, so the museum wasn’t very busy. There was a tour group of young students, which Taehyung and Jimin ran into a few times, but otherwise there were only a few stray artists wandering around doing sketches of the statues.

               In the back of his mind, Taehyung knew that the rest of their group was supposed to meet them here at some point, but Taehyung and Jimin were so far into the maze of art that he wouldn’t even know how to direct them once they arrived. He wasn’t worried about it either. He was having too much fun with Jimin to care about the others right now.

               Every moment spent with Jimin was special to him. He still couldn’t believe sometimes how quickly Jimin had reassured and forgiven Taehyung; he was so sure Jimin would hate him for making that decision for him. And while Jimin was struggling getting used to his new life, he made it clear that he was thankful to be alive, that he was excited to spend forever with Taehyung.

               “What about this one?” Jimin asked. Taehyung strolled over to look at what painting Jimin was at.

               “‘St. Michael Vanquishing Satan’,” said Taehyung. “Raphael.”

               Jimin continued down the hall, eyes flitting across each painting. Taehyung was most excited to see David; he heard that the statue was way bigger in person than one would expect.

               Taehyung stopped. The painting he was looking at made his eyes widen and his mouth fall open. The plaque said that the artist was unknown. Jimin must have noticed that Taehyung had stopped moving, because he wandered over, letting out a gasp when he saw the painting.

               They didn’t say anything for a while. The school group wandered past behind them, the children’s voices bouncing off the stone walls.

               “Hey, that guy looks just like you!” a voice shouted from behind them. Jimin turned around to talk with the girl, who was pointing at Taehyung. Taehyung didn’t take his eyes off the picture though. He felt a tear roll down his face.

               “Can I take a picture of you with that painting?” the little girl asked. Taehyung wiped the tear from his cheek and nodded, turning around to face the girl. She lifted her phone and snapped a picture. She gave them a toothy smile before running to catch up with her classmates.

               “Is this Adrianna’s work?” Jimin asked. Taehyung nodded. He turned back around to stare at the painting of himself with his dog.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N:

And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone reading this and sticking with me during this story. Reading the comments was my favorite part of this journey. 

This story is officially novel length! I’ve never accomplished that before with a complete work! I’ll be posting this story on Wattpad, and I’m also thinking of changing names and adding scenes to make this a publishable work, so keep your eyes out for updates on that!

[betweentheracks]

can you tell us what your credentials are and what sort of studies/coursework did you have to take up to get to your position? and, if not too personal, what your day to day work life might look life in and out awards seasons or other big ticket events your clients might need styled for?

This is long and rambling, I do apologize. 

Regarding coursework and education routes into becoming a pro stylist, the thing is that there isn’t necessarily a need for a specific type of education. You could literally drop school and strive for success by the grit of your teeth and iron will alone if you really want and still could gain great acclaim. It isn’t exactly common but it does happen if you strike upon fortunate circumstances and garner experience wherever possible to form the base of your portfolio and profile which will later shape your reputation. 

As it is, most studios and clients do tend to give more consideration to those that come from an academic qualifications and learning. While experience if the foreground on which all stylists (and any other set of industry workers) tread, having the support and security of studying styles and fashion and marketing and all manner of related blather gives a sense of merit and provides opportunities for your to be selected for a job despite a lack of reputation or experience. The best stylists fall from both trees and the worst do as well; there is no guaranteed recipe for success in this field as fashion itself is too fluid in expression to be quantified. 

As for what I did; I had hands in both pots and have the educational background that assures I know what I am doing in terms of textual/technical understanding as well as experience from moments of pure luck compounded by my audacious efforts. I have a Bachelor’s compromised of fashion merchandising, fashion retailing, marketing, and visual arts. I took side courses at a fashion technical institute with a more tailored program that catered to the fundamentals of fit, body (and measurements) assessment, design and trends, media styling, and fashion industry principles. Additionally I did half a semester of social skills in a business. From there I went on to snatch up an internship and spent a bit more than a year being a shadow of the stylists for the company I work for before grasping a golden chance to become notable and step beyond that restricted role. I also have the certifications of AICI CIC and AICI CIP with hopes to one day finally snag the coveted AICI CIM (respectively; certified image consultant, certified image professional, certified image master).

I had friends that have worked in and out of this end of the industry and knew from the jump that I wanted to pad my portfolio with the safety net provided by academia and use it to bridge the gaps in my experience early on. I figured if I had the knowledge of how to deal with the business side of things as well as the styling side then I was a bit more valuable and, worst case, could go be a consultant or advisor for retailers or big wig company heads. As it is, the only reason I have any clout to my name at all is due to my internship - it paved over all the potholes in the road I was on and has been very favorable, but not everyone is as fortunate as I have been and this is not an easy path to undertake and forge into a career with any real sense of stability or security. Freelance stylists have a completely different struggle despite the majority coming from similar backgrounds as myself. 

Now, onto the daily scope and specs of wardrobe styling ~

Please take into consideration that I am an admitted workaholic/perfectionist/overachiever within the boundaries of my work. I’m quite lazy in almost every other sense of living and make existing seem like a wreck and I’m the one driving the struggle-bus that caused it, but for the job I have I am a supremely different breed (though still a lunatic). So yeah, I do a lot more than most would in my position and it is actually something that my company head both loves and hates and is rumored to be writing a clause for all employees regarding allowable working methodology due to the sheer amount of paperwork I alone generate. I am the hazard of our company, but I am also an asset. 

Anyway, I start most of my days with a lot of reading through emails that range from client comments and commands to vendors looking to use my company or clientele to bolster their credibility, to brands extending offers of product usage for marketing and campaigning reasons, and a variety of back and forths between me and the PAs or clerks of photographers, other studios, and fashion houses. Next comes hours of phone calls and reviewing schedules to ensure there is no intersections between client-oriented event slots. For one photoshoot I typically spend 3-4 weeks on the semantics of lighting quality and set features and then the rest of the time is dedicated to wardrobe and piecing out however many styles are called for, and then usually adding in at least 2 extras just for good measure. There's so many meetings my butt goes numb and touching base with the other members of my glam teams to reaffirm that we are all working on tandem and on the same page as far as vision goes. I sometimes have a turn in taking care of a new trainee or intern that is wandering our workplace like a fawn on clumsy legs and have questionable instincts.

When it comes to pulling apparel to make up sets, I have been known to be in the rack rooms and show rooms and fashion archives for over 7 hours a day. Our archivists know me as personally as I know my assistants and friends from how often I am in there territory and have to rely on their hardwork and favor. I spend days doing this until I have what I need and then dedicate every bit of my attention designing and creating looks which is another 5+ hours of one day, over the course of many. I have had days where I have been at work for 16 or 17 hours before I realize it, which is why I am such a thorn in my boss’ ass and often told to take a day off or get sent home midway through the morning - my hours alone could have business bureaus raising their eyebrows at the legality of my working hours. (This is cranked to max when shows and events are in the schedule; Awards Season is a nightmare and tours are the bastard offspring of Hell actually. The amount of hours put in are truly horrific). 

Also worth mentioning for the sake of perspective is that my job is as expansive as my clients allow; if they request me for one of their various activities in the public eye or in media, if available, I am obligated to prioritize their needs above the projects that my company has assigned to me as per our contract and am expected to either find a replacement or delegate to my assistant and apprentice when possible. The opposite is also true: if my clients have a light workload or are on break from their careers, I am typically doing the busy work of in-studio tasks or tracking rising trends and other features of the fashion forecast. I also host a multitude of temporary contracts with all manner of clientele from brand ambassadors to photographers to celebrities to commercial shoots & services. These jobs come upon official requests made through the company and then negotiated into the terms of how short the working schedule will be, what work I will be undertaking, and an assessment of skills vs revenue to maintain a balance of my time as a professional being properly valued within the sad decline of styling budgets before it will be officially taken on in my name. For these I tend to make better use of my status and hand off most of the project unless I am specifically needed. I make appearances as necessary but am mostly an advisor rather than the producer, instead focusing on my exclusive clients all while staying keyed in so that the work isn't below standard. This is all a badly kept secret of my company and myself - the clients do typically know and accept this is how I handle things in general and are aware that they are paying for an absent role of by way of my name/credentials unless they specify otherwise. There have been times when a side job like this has more prestige than all the years of my experiences combined could generate which ostensibly is treated with much more care and most of my other work pauses in deference to this. 

Being a stylist, especially a wardrobe AND fashion stylist, is just so much I don't think I could fully capture the scale of it for a proper index of what we do. 

In short, I don't have routine days. I have days that are at the beck and call of a workload that changes at the drop of a pin or the half digit uptick that dictates the emergence of a new trend or the downwind of when a trend skews into becoming mainstream. I can be paced out and looking at a light day at my desk and suddenly be crammed into a pitch meeting or called out to a set. I've also spent many days lounging on the sofa in a client's dressing room playing on my phone and cracking jokes with the glam team as we wait for our client to return between performance takes. And then there are days when I only go into work for our weekly meeting and review before heading back home. It's constant and consuming and sometimes I can't catch my breath before I'm shoved into the show room under a daunting time crunch because an entire ensemble has been misplaced or ruined. Just a matter of days before I was felled by COVID-19 I was having a nap during a photoshoot which I had already fulfilled my purpose and had no further need to participate in.

The reality is that I spend the majority of my time carving out a balance of my work life not superseding my time dedicated to being with my son and making sure he knows no matter what, he is above my hectic career always.

[spitefulqueenofdemons]

https://spitefulqueenofdemons.tumblr.com/post/643713435650113536/sleep-deprived part 2

Pushing Up Daisies chapter 3

Tw: language, murder, guns, cops, mentions of drugs

Word count: 1373

Summary: After having woken up tied to a chunk of concrete under water and doing an unspeakable act (for your survival??) You find yourself out of options and people to help. Well almost, the only one you think might be able to help is the one who got you in this situation in the first place

After a long shower and several hours on the internet searching for anything that could tell you what was going on. Apart from a few hundred movies and books with undead content the most concrete actual zombie anything you could find was mostly about the voodoo dust that people used to put others under control. And back in the 18, and 1900s people accidentally being buried alive. 

There was virtually nothing about zombies in Seattle. All you knew for sure was what had happened to you. You confronted Blaine, he grabbed you, shot you, dumped you in a lake and you woke up you dont know how long after underwater with no need to breath. 

As you thought and absently read yet another article about 'Haitian Zombies' you rubbed your hand against your wrist that Blaine had grabbed you with. The scratch marks on your arm were as faint as old scars but you could feel them still.

And just like that realization hit. The red eyes made sense. Blaine was a zombie, and that lady who was working the front counter probably was too. It had to be some sort of virus or something that could be transferred through scratch. The teenager in you was thrilled that zombies were real and not mindless corpses that just wandered around destroying everything it came across. Sure when you first emerged from the lake you couldnt control yourself and killed that poor innocent man but you were literally starving. 

Perhaps that was the down side. The hunger is enough to blind you from any moral standing. Even more unfortunate, you didnt know how long what brains you did eat earlier would keep you satiated and you didnt have a way to get more without committing more murder. You didnt know anything about the zombieism other than the scratch causes it. 

You really only had an one option. Go back to Blaine. He had options. Once you got there he could kill you, or turn you away, or kill you. You had gone in only, according to your microwave, 8 hours ago guns blazing accusing him of being a utopium dealer. How could you expect him to help. 

Now you also knew you couldnt go to the police. As an officer you knew they would either freak out or hide it. And by hiding it you knew that would mean hiding you, IE killing you and sweeping it under the rug. They might turn you over to some higher part of the government. The type that does a bunch of invasive and usually very painful experiments and research. 

You could just drop it. Leave town and change your name. But then again that brings up the issue of how will you eat? Murder is just too horrible an option for you. Grave robbing coukd be viable but half decomposed chemically drowned brain is almost as bad as the moral stand still of murder. 

Deciding on your course of action you breezed to your closet, choosing a simple black hoodie, dark jeans and boots, and a ball cap to hide your snowy hair to wear. You grabbed a glock 19. Not the gun you had when you went to visit Blaine in the first place. That one was gone, probably in Debeers' personal stash now. This time though if he pulled so would you. 

Without a vehicle, you assumed it would no longer be parked where you left it in front of MEATchute, you were instead forced to catch a bus to the opposite side of town. The open sign was off but you could see people behind the counter. It looked like they were counting the drawer.

You beat on the glass with an open palm, hard enough for it to make a lot of noise but not hard enough to shatter the glass. The older woman from when you first came was the one to open the door. She looked like she had seen a ghost, but still somehow like she didnt care. 

"Cant you read the sign? We are closed. That means you dont have to go home but you sure as shit cant stay here." She half growled. 

You rolled your eyes, half willing to punch her in the face if she wanted to get cocky. "Move. Wheres Debeers?" You demanded, eyes flashing past the stumpy woman and to the counter where a large man with dark hair stood sizing you up. "You," you said. You recognized him as one of the names that gave a name that then gave you Debeers. "You work for him. I shouldnt be surprised." 

He cocked an eyebrow. "Cissie, let her through." The man said. He looked like a knock off version of Patrick Warburton. "You are supposed to be dead little lady. You got lungs of steal or are you one of us?" 

You scoffed, wanting to hit them all. You knew it wasnt a part of the zombieism either. These fuckers were all instrumental in your death. That enough was reason for a slight beating. "I got nothing to say to you Julian. I'm here for Blaine and I'm not leaving till I get to talk to him." You demanded, stomping up to the counter. 

The man sighed as if this was one of the last things he wanted to deal with. "Well he isnt here but I'll call him. See if he wants to talk to you. Follow me." He said, gesturing to you. 

Not exactly happy, but pleased you were getting what you want, you followed the man behind the counter. He took you further into the building and finally into a room off the kitchen that actually looked like a real office. The large mahogany desk was a mess with files and papers, on top of them all was the stolen file from your apartment. There was a few random art pieces. 

"Wait here. Someone will be by soon." He instructed, leaving you in the room alone. Trusting that you wouldnt snoop. Normally you would but this situation was not the time. You needed help, and had already pissed off two of the three people you knew had a hand in that. Snooping through Blaine's real office would be like flipping the bird after you already spit on and slapped someone. Definitely not a good idea on your part. 

It took less than 20 minutes before the door opened again and a familiar blond haired blue eyed gangster opened the door. "Ah Detective. What an unpleasant surprise. I didnt know you walked amongst the undead." He said with an air of genuine shock. "When Julian told me I really didnt believe him. You took those bullets like a mortal. What happened?" 

You laid out your wrist on the desk, the marks almost completely gone. He crossed to the other side and sat down, moving the little lamp that was sitting at the corner of the table. He shone the lamp over my arm and the little pink marks showed up. 

Blaine 'tsk'ed. "Was it me?" He had a fake look of disgust on his face. "It was me wasnt it. Damn it, I knew I shouldnt have blown off my manicure appointment this morning." He shook his head. "Thats why you arent dead. You gotta be starving though. Would you like a snack? Pudding? Crackers and cheese? Brains?" He questioned. 

You looked at the mark on your wrist in the light, your jaw clenched a little. "No thanks I already ate, but that is part of what I would like to discus." 

At that his eyes widened with actual shock. "Um, you already ate? Did you kill someone or dig up a body?" When I didnt answer he nodded knowingly. "You killed someone. Oh I bet that was a sight. Sorry about the cinderblock by the way. I didnt think you would be waking up. Im sure it wasnt the best alarm." 

You scoffed, a little thankful he stopped asking about your food source. "Waking up underwater was definitely a new experience, but then again so far my whole evening has been new experiences." You told him. 

"Well, allow me to formally welcome you to the land of Zombies. I'll explain everything."

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 22 | 23 | 24

‘Come on, come on, come on, Lucy please pick up!’

“Sorry I’m not available to take your call. Please leave a message at the beep.”

“Fuck!” Natsu clicks off before the beep and chucks his phone at his bed. He’d already left numerous voice mails and text messages over the last week, the desperation growing with each one, but they’d all gone unanswered or unread. If he left anymore Lucy just might block him and he didn’t want that to happen.

All he needed was a chance, one chance. Even though their interactions were few between meeting on the train, the phone, and the cafe, it still should have provided him with some credibility. So how after just one encounter could she believe Touka over him? He didn’t understand. Of course, Gray’s take on it all was well, women tend to be more emotional. Maybe Lucy’s decision to react wasn’t because she necessarily believed Touka’s story. Perhaps she’s been cheated on before or slighted by a guy. Natsu shouldn’t try to rationalize it based on only his own experiences. His friend might be right, but he still wanted to hear it from Lucy’s own mouth. Didn’t he deserve at least that much?

Why hasn’t she blocked him yet? Did it mean she was still thinking about everything, processing it, or simply hadn’t had a chance to? Okay, that last one doesn’t make any sense considering how easy it easy to block a number on a cellphone. It gave him hope things weren’t over yet, but that unknown made it worse, like being left standing in the cold waiting for the rain to stop falling. Ugh! When will this storm pass? He needed answers or this’ll slowly drive him insane!

So, two days later he makes a crazy decision. “Yes,” he tells Gray, “so don’t stay up waiting for me.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” Gray crosses his arms, “that’s basically stalking, as in you could go to jail if she complains.”

“I know the consequences, but I don’t see it like that. I just want to talk to her and if she tells me to fuck off, I’ll leave, but at least I got my answer.”

The man shakes his head and starts to walk away. “Never thought I’d see you go so nuts over a girl man. But good luck.”

Night after night, Natsu rides the train at the same time as their first meeting, hoping to run into Lucy. He knew it was a long shot, that their meeting may have been completely at random and she rarely caught the train so late at night. Which made sense considering the dangers of a single woman out alone. But it was his only lead to follow. Her campus was simply too large to wander aimlessly on and he had no idea where she lives. He was determined to see this through no matter how long it took.

Such resolution began to falter by the end of the second week when no sight or sound of the blonde crossed his path. He would sit there growing more and more despondent, getting onto the train and off to start the cycle again in the same route. Even other daily commuters started to notice this odd man sitting on a bench with his head kept low, only to look up at the sound of the doors opening. Natsu must have looked pathetic, and sad, a poor miserable creature lost in a sea of train riders with a story no one knew but could guess based on his appearance.

“Dude, it’s been a month! Just give up already!”

“No way! Tonight, could be the night!”

And it was.

It’d become such a routine, like one of Pavlov’s conditioning experiments. At the sound of the trains door, Natsu’s head pops up ready to scan all the incoming riders. It was nearing 10:30 pm with only one more route for the evening before he’d have to give up and try again tomorrow... but there she was.

Lucy walks into the door at the other end of the car and doesn’t see him immediately. By that hour there’s only a small number of riders so most of the seats were open and she quickly sits down on one. Natsu jumps up and rushes over in his excitement, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

He drops down in a crouch before Lucy and grabs her hand before she can resist or stop him. “Please, don’t scream or anything, I just wanna talk.”

“Oh my god Natsu, you scared the hell out of me!” She tries to pull her hand away, but he simply holds on tighter. “Natsu, there’s a reason I haven’t answered your calls, so take a hint.”

“Oh, come on Lucy, you never even gave me a chance to prove I’m innocent! How could you believe a woman who you just met over me, I thought we at least had a small connection between us.”

Lucy sees a few other riders staring in their direction. In embarrassment, she lowers her voice and grits out a response. “Let go of my hand, get off the floor and sit on the bench before I scream for help.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” he scrambles to his feet and takes a seat beside her.

The woman lets out an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t know how you can prove anything to me Natsu. I don’t know either of you, so to protect myself, it’s safer to just walk away.”

“Then get to know me, Luce. That’s all I’m asking for and you’ll see it was all a lie.”

“How would I know you’re not still seeing Touka? It’s not like we’d be together 24/7, so there’s plenty of opportunities for you to juggle the both of us.”

Ugh! He runs his hand down his face in frustration. “Touka is not my girlfriend, has never been my girlfriend, and will never be my girlfriend. She’s been stalking me for a couple years now and you’re not the first girl she’s chased away because she thought they were a rival.”

“Pfft.” Lucy takes out her phone, pulling up Instagram, and tapping away furiously. “Then explain this,” she shows him Touka’s profile. “Pictures of you two that looks like you’re a couple,” she scrolls a few posts down, “and again here, a comment by a N_dragneel with heart shapes. And then!” She changes to that persons profile, shoving her phone in his face, “are you telling me this isn’t you?”

Natsu stares at the profile which appeared to be filled with pictures of him and his life, along with the description stating Natsu loves Touka. “It’s not me,” he states calmly and takes out his own phone, pulling up his Instagram account. “This is me,” he shows her.

“How do I know this isn’t a side account?”

Again, he sighs and clicks on the account information. “See, I have one side blog to post dragon art, and that’s it. She created that fake blog with my name.”

“And the photo’s?!”

“Photoshop or some other free app anyone can download. Lucy I’m telling you the truth, and this isn’t the first time I’m hearing this.” He groans, “this’ll be the third blog I’ll have to report for stealing my identify.”

The tell-tale ding of the trains information board signals they’d arrived at Lucy’s stop. “Look Natsu, I-I just don’t know what to make of all this.” She stands to leave, but he corners her.

“Just one shot, Lucy please! I’ll introduce you my friends, hell I can introduce you to another woman Touka’s harassed and you’ll have to see I’m telling you the truth!”

“Natsu, move.” She clenches her fists in frustration and her adrenaline is making her body shake. “I-I have to go!”

“But Lucy...”

“Please,” moisture builds in her eyes. “Natsu get out of the way.”

Heartbroken and dejected, his shoulders slump and arms drop to his sides as he steps away to let her pass. Lucy adjusts her backpack and starts to walks away but pauses just outside of the door. Without turning around, “Even if you’re telling me the truth Natsu, I have to think long and hard if I’d want to deal with all this drama. I’m sorry.”

The doors close and with it the last pieces still hanging on in Natsu’s heart shatter. She was right. How fair is it to Lucy to be caught in the middle of this stalking war with Touka? He shambles back to his seat and drops as the train moves on to his stop. All he could do was wait and see what she decided. Is he worth the investment?    

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 19

Chapters: 19/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18]

"It’s skew.”

“Come and straighten it, then.”

“I’m spotting, you’re hanging.”

Gerry growls at him. Jon looks rather pleased about it.

Martin, who doesn’t want Gerry to hit their infuriating lover with a hammer, goes over to where he’s hanging the massive painting and tilts it minutely to the left. “Better?”

“Perfect!” Jon pronounces, clapping his hands.

Through some sort of witchcraft, the artist has hung the painting in such a position that it emulates where a window would be in a traditional room. It opens up the space in such a way that it seems less like a store room, and far more like a creative space that someone would actually enjoy spending time in.

The lightning helps too, warm light filtering from the ceiling and corner lamps, and LCD strips illuminating the bookshelves from inside.

All in all, considering this was a utilitarian storage space just a few weeks ago, it seems like a downright miracle.

The three of them lean back against Jon's desk, free of clutter for the first and only time in its life. The bookshelves are empty, and except for his new painting, so are the walls.

The piano occupies one wall, and Gerry hopes to hear it being played often.

Jon reaches out and takes Gerry's hand, drawing them close together affectionately. "How long have you been planning for us to move in?"

"Well, I wasn't planning, per se. Only considering the possibility." Gerry smirks confidently. "I know we're all a little bizarre, but this is the course of most relationships, and we could only spend so much time sleeping over before paying for three flats became superfluous."

"Besides," Martin continues for him. "There's no harm in planning for something you hope will happen eventually. Especially when your new flatmates will be this wildly good looking."

He gestures to himself dramatically, doing a small turn in place. Gerry and Jon laugh with him happily, until he stumbles back into Gerry's side, where he gets wrapped up under an arm.

"So do you like your new space, Jon?" Gerry cuddles around him, twisting the three of them into an odd sort of snuggle pretzel.

"I absolutely adore it." Jon utters happily, sighing in contentment as they all lean there together.

***

At the end of June, Jon hands over his keys and the three of them officially live together.

There's still a lot of settling to be done, even though they've been moving in together for almost six weeks by that point. The boxes are unpacked, but they still need to make it a comfortable home for all of them, a certainty that comes only with time.

Martin and Jon both love their studies, a matching pair that look and feel completely opposite.

Martin opts for a small bedroom, keeping the bed from his old flat, his painting hung opposite. He finds an antique writing desk at a charity store, and installs it for writing poetry or working on his laptop in the evenings.

He adorns the walls with pictures and posters, and random pieces of poetry and music that he loves.

It's a cozy space that he adores, even though he opts to sleep in the master bedroom almost always. The option makes him feel like he has his own breathing room, even if he rarely needs it.

Jon's is more of a true study, with a large desk taking up the majority of the space. His walls are lined with shelves, and he promptly fills them with books and knickknacks. The odd collection includes first edition classics, next to mass market paperbacks and music books, with non-fiction nature and animal books scattered throughout. These are interwoven with seashells, tiny mechanical statues and several flowers preserved in resin, gifts from Martin throughout their relationship.

On the wall above the piano, he hangs framed photos of his parents, himself with Gerry as a teen, and all three of them together as adults. The photo he once took of Martin, Gerry and Tim hangs right in the centre, all his favorite humans in one frame. He hangs the sketch of him and Martin in the park from when they were all courting, as well as the others he has stolen from Gerry over time.

Gerry embraces the chaos and upheaval as if it's all he ever wanted, and really, it is. A home, with the people he loves, noisy and frenetic, loving and comfortable.

In the middle of July, he quits his job at the bar in the middle of a shift, with very little contemplation or preamble.

He smiles at his lovers radiantly when he comes through the door several hours early to find them watching a movie.

"What happened?" Martin queries, clear concern lining his expressive face.

"I quit." Gerry flops down between them, snuggling down immediately.

"But why?" Presses a sleepy Jon, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.

Gerry shrugs. "I got the job because I was bored, essentially. I wanted to interact with interesting people and I didn't know anyone in London anymore. But tonight I realized how badly I wanted to be right here, with you two." He smiles at them, trying to explain without conveying too many of his sappy emotions. "l honestly couldn't think of one reason to be working at midnight on a Saturday, instead of at home, or out on a date, or literally anything else we could be doing together. So I quit."

"Oh Gerry." Jon whispers, both of them carefully tuned to his moods, regardless of his attempts at seeming unconcerned.

"I don't feel the need to fill my time and chase inspiration anymore. I just want to be with you. Both of you." He kisses first Martin's hand, then Jon's, grinning at them all the way.

"I love you. I'm happy you're home." Jon whispers to him, sleepy and content.

Martin hums an agreement, squeezing his hand and smiling down at him lovingly.

They watch their movie and then go to bed all together, and Gerry knows he's made the best choice of his life.

***

Gerry finds himself with an odd amount of time on his hands while his partners go to work during the day, like normal people.

He decides to take on several art commissions from clients he's actually interested in working for, which thrills Gertrude. He doesn't think it entirely makes up for his boyfriend hitting Peter Lukas in the middle of a showcase, but it's a start.

He also indulges himself and buys a new tattoo machine.

He's not really interested in taking clients again, but… well, he wants it and so he gets it. If it's only to use on himself or the occasional visitor, then that's fine by him.

"You have everything you need to give tattoos now, right?" Martin asks him one early morning.

Gerry is still mostly asleep, clutching a cup of tea and petting Saturn where he perches on his lap. He blinks at Martin, confused.

"I think so. I mean, I haven't used my machine yet, but there's really only one way to test it out." Gerry tilts his head curiously, sunlight glittering in his hair, dyed back to its original black. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you want to give me one?" Martin grins at him a bit shyly.

Gerry sits up straight, instantly wide awake. "Yes. So much."

Martin laughs warmly. "You have the same look on your face that Luna gets when we take out the catnip toys."

Uncaring about how eager he might look, Gerry shoos Saturn to go over and kneel by Martin. "I would be honored to have your tattoo virginity. Do you want me to draw something?"

"Yes," Martin tells him with a grin, "that's exactly what I want. A Gerry Delano original, right on my skin."

"What do you want it to be?" Gerry's teal eyes are bright and slightly manic, and Martin glories in the sensation of producing a new reaction in his lover.

"It's entirely up to you." He responds, pressing a firm kiss to Gerry's mouth. "I want to see what makes you think of me."

"Oh, I like it." He declares, jumping up and going off to find a sketchbook.

Martin sips his tea and smiles to himself, very pleased indeed.

***

"You're just going to let him give you whatever he wants to?" Jon blanches when Martin tells him.

"Relax Jon, it's Gerry, not some evil mastermind. He'll draw something I like. And if I don't, it's not hard, I just tell him no."

Jon, who rather considers that Gerry is an evil mastermind, does not look convinced. "But…"

"Hush, love." Martin tells him firmly.

Gerry, drawing under the window nearby, takes no notice of them. He has a focused frown on his face as he concentrates on the careful lines appearing on his page.

Martin considers it a rare pleasure to just watch him draw, and tries to guess what might be forming on the page before him.

He completely trusts that Gerry knows him exactly well enough to draw him the perfect tattoo. And then he can have his own piece of Gerry, inked right into his skin.

When he sits back down with Jon and Martin a little later, he has a smudge of charcoal above his eyebrow, and Martin gently rubs it away before Gerry has a chance to start talking. He blushes quite uncharacteristically, and Martin knows it means he's been swirling in the frantic rush of his own creativity.

"So I have a proposal for you." Gerry starts, body humming with excitement. "A tattoo in two parts, if you will."

"Yeah?" Martin encourages him, just as interested.

Gerry collects Martin's hand in both of his own, running a thumb over a spot on his wrist. It's the same place that Jon has his own tattoo, which immediately makes Martin pleased. "A small crescent moon, right here. The placement to match with Jon, the symbol for Luna."

Gerry pushes a scrap of paper forward, an elegant crescent moon filling space.

"For the other…" Gerry turns over the larger page, handing it to Martin.

There's an immeasurable beat of silence as Martin contemplates the design before him. A set of waxing and waning moons, connected by a series of dots, lines and more dots making a background of geometric shapes.

He… feels it. He understands now, what Jon had meant, when he described seeing the inspiration for his own tattoo for the first time. It's a representation of some inner part of himself, normally hidden from the world, but carefully unearthed for his lovers, over the course of many months and endless intimacy.

"Martin?" Gerry entreats, leaning minutely closer to him.

"I love it." He whispers, pulling the goth over to kiss him fiercely. They tangle together pleasantly, for several moments, everything else falling away as they get absorbed in each other.

"Not that anyone asked me, but I like it as well." Jon informs them pertly.

"Your opinion is as important to us as ever, baby." Gerry replies, grinning proudly. He turns back to Martin. "Where do you want it?"

Martin considers for a moment, before getting up and pulling off his shirt and jumper, leaving himself bare from the waist up. He still feels a small pang of shyness to be naked in any way, but confidence born of time and perspective drown most of it away now.

He and Gerry stand facing each other. Martin lifts the other man's hand, placing it on his sternum, over his softly pounding heart.

"Right here?" Gerry asks, voice soft.

"Right here." Martin affirms.

***

In the end, Gerry takes them over to Melanie's tattoo shop to work on Martin. He lists a number of reasons, but really, he finds a certain amount of comfort working under the stark lights and amid the buzzing of other machines.

They do the small tattoo first, and Martin sits for it exceptionally well.

Before Gerry starts the sternum piece, an endeavor of several hours, Georgie arrives and drags Jon off to drink coffee and catch up in a nearby coffee shop. Melanie goes into the next room to take another client, and Gerry and Martin are left alone together.

"Ready, love?" Gerry asks as he finishes placing the stencil, bisecting his chest.

"I'm nervous," Martin confesses softly.

Gerry doesn't move his gloved hands, not wanting to contaminate them, but he does press their foreheads together gently, taking a moment to sooth Martin with his companionship.

"Do you want to take a break? You can just sit with the stencil for a while." Gerry leans forward and places a swift kiss on Martin's nose, before retreating from his personal space.

"No, I'm ready." He smiles, biting his lip a little. "I just- I feel like this is a big moment, you know?"

"It is. You're embracing who you really are." Gerry runs a finger along one of Martin's chest scars, considering. "You're choosing to love yourself instead of just tolerating him."

"How can you always tell?" Martin whispers the words, voice heavy with emotion. "How can you put things into words like that, so simply."

"I know you. You think I don't see when you avoid looking in the mirror. You hope I don't notice that you used to hate being naked, even with Jon and I." Gerry pauses, tripping Martin's head up with the tip of a finger, minimizing contact still. "But I see you, Martin. I love you just the way you are. And I want you to love yourself just the same. I'll tell you everyday, show you constantly, if I need to."

Martin is crying for real now, tears streaming down his face. Gerry abandons his sterility, pulling Martin into his arms. He rocks his lover gently, and they are just together for a moment, no need to rush, no distractions. Just them, and the comfort they find in each other.

"I love you too." Martin tells him simply, when they pull apart.

"Good," Gerry grins, kissing him thoroughly, the taste of salty tears on his lips. He stands, pulling off his ruined gloves and going to wash his hands again.

Martin takes a sip of the tea Jon made him before he left, smiling because Jon always makes it with a little more sugar than he allows himself. "I'm ready."

When Jon returns, they're just finished up, the last few moments of buzzing filling the air. He watches them together, artist and canvas, and loves them fiercely.

"How was coffee with Georgie?" Martin queries, taking his offered hand.

Jon relays the details as Gerry finishes, and then cleans up.

Jon and Gerry stand on either side of Martin in the mirror as he looks at it for the first time. Martin nods wildly, when Jon asks if he likes it, and they hug him from either side as he sheds a few more tears.

Jon had once thought that tattoos seemed very boring in comparison to Gerry's normal work, but seeing the design come alive on Martin's skin, full of feeling and depth, he can't help but think of it as the best thing his lover has ever done. Gerry can't help but agree.

"Let's go to the park!" Martin exclaims as they leave, after saying their goodbyes to Georgie and Melanie.

"The park?" Jon asks, laughing. "It's so windy."

"I don't care, I want to feed the ducks and eat ice cream with my boyfriends." He insists, giddy with happiness and adrenaline.

"Okay, but you're picking the flavours this time." Gerry says, taking one of Martin's hands. Jon takes the other.

"Deal."

***

Jon and Gerry find themselves watching Martin once again feed ducks as they sit beneath a tree, more than a year after the very first time.

"Why don't we come to the park more often?" Jon asks from where he reclines between Gerry's long legs.

His arms snake around his waist, and Jon feels very content and comfortable, despite the cutting wind.

"Because," Gerry kisses under an ear softly, "we live in England and it rains more than 100 days a year."

"He looks so happy here." They watch as Martin stoops to offer a piece of bread to a curious toddler. The child is inordinately pleased, and her mother watches on gratefully from nearby as they feed the rowdy birds together.

"Are you happy?" Gerry asks him, unexpectedly serious. "With your life, with me?"

"Gerry! Of course I'm happy with you." Jon sits up, turning in the tangle of Gerry's limbs to face him.

"I'm only checking on you." He runs a gentle finger down Jon's face, then cups his cheek affectionately. "I know how much stress work puts you under and I hate that for you."

Jon looks away from his intent gaze, fiddling with his fingers nervously. "Well, yeah. My job sucks. The worst part is, I love being a librarian! Being surrounded by books, helping people choose something to read or guiding them with their research. But that's so little of my job now, and Elias just finds new and interesting ways to put pressure on me. But I'm not qualified and I know I probably won't get another job in a library, especially not without a glowing recommendation from Elias-"

"And we both know that's never going to happen." Gerry finishes for him.

Jon nods and they just sit together a moment. Gerry lifts one of his hands and kisses each of his fingers and then his palm, until Jon blushes and smiles at him.

"I know you think it's annoying, so you keep your feelings about work inside, a lot of the time. I don't want you to do that anymore, okay? If you have a terrible job, then we all carry that."

"But-"

"Nope, no buts. We are all partners. That means more then dinner dates and living together and sex."

"And punching rich fuckers who hurt our Martin."

Gerry laughs, still reveling in Jon's unexpected protectiveness- and the violent manifestation of it. "Yes, that too. There will be other jobs, for all of us, probably. But our relationship, the three of us. We're forever."

"Like those tattoos that you gave Martin today?" Jon asks, pert glint in his eye.

"Yes, much like that." He smirks brazenly back. "And the one I gave you, and the ones I've given myself, over the years."

Gerry continues, squeezing Jon's hand, "I know that the idea of not being able to provide for yourself scares you, but we're in this together now. You don't have to cling to a job that you hate in case you're left without one at all."

"I-" Jon looks away, uncomfortable to be so well understood. Gerry stits with him, energy easy between them, just holding his hand, loving and supportive.

"I have been considering, that is, maybe becoming a school teacher." The confession is halting, and he offers it with a small shy smile.

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Gerry responds, gentle encouragement colouring his voice.

"I would probably have to go back to school for a year. Get a post-grad in Education. I wouldn't be working for most of that time, and my savings will only go so far, even without having to pay rent." Jon whispers, as if the words will be any less offensive to him if they are quiet.

"You know I can float you, especially for just a year. And Martin too."

"It just doesn't seem fair to burden you with that."

"It's not a burden, it's a part of life. You think you're so old, that you should be settled, but you're barely 30, Jon. You still have time to make new life choices occasionally, and the point of being in a relationship is that you let us support you every now and then." Gerry is earnest and focused, and Jon can't help but believe him, long fingers cupping his face and teal eyes holding his gaze.

Martin arrives then, plonking down next to Jon and giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"What are we talking about then? Such serious faces."

Gerry nudges Jon, who haltingly offers Martin the same idea he told Gerry.

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea.” He says, eyes alight. “Like, high schoolers, right?”

“Yes, of course. Anyone under 10 is an alien and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

They laugh at him, their contentment surrounding him warmly.

"You don't have to quit right away." Martin offers. "There are plenty of part time degree programs, and you have to apply first. It all takes time."

"You seem pretty clued up about it." Jon observes, narrowing his eyes at Martin suspiciously.

"Well, if you must know. I've been thinking about getting a business degree."

"Oh my God! Martin, how is this the first we're hearing about this?" Gerry demands, sitting up straight.

"I didn't want it to be a thing until I was sure, and the move was over." He confesses, "It's gonna take a lot of my free time and I wanted to discuss that with you both carefully."

"I'm gonna be living with two thirty year old students." Gerry mutters, shocked. He leans back against the tree again, running his fingers through his long hair.

"I haven't agreed yet-" Jon starts.

Martin speaks up at the same time. "You could get a degree too. We could all be students together."

"No, but thanks anyway." Gerry shudders, grimacing. He perks right back up. "I'll be your sexy study partner though."

"Gerard!" Jon cries, scandalised.

Gerry shakes his head. "As if I've never felt you up while you were trying to study for a test."

"Exactly!" Even Jon struggles to keep up his prim expression at that, and they tumble into pleasant laughter together.

"So," Martin hazards, "are we gonna do this?"

"Well, if you're going to. I suppose we should both get it done at the same time." Jon responds, still hesitant but clearly warming to the idea. "You're really okay with this, Gerry?"

Gerry beams at them both, a soft, special look in his eyes. "I'm more than okay with anything you want to do with your lives. In case you haven't noticed, I'm really very fond of you both."

Jon leans forward in the circle of Gerry's legs, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss, before turning back to lay against his chest.

Martin shifts around to lean into his side, and Gerry tucks one arm around him, the other around Jon. Jon reaches out to take one of Martin's hands, and the three of them sit wrapped up together.

As ever, their own mutual magnetism draws them forever closer and closer, binding them to one another in an inexplicable tangle of love and affection.

"Do you think it will always be like this, between us?" Martin whispers gently, as the sun begins to set and the landscape sets ablaze before them.

"Probably not," Jon responds, voice warm and content. "Life will keep shifting like a tide, and we'll move with it, but the great thing about us is- we're moored together. Nothing can keep us apart, because what we have is stronger than whatever shifts and eddies might try to take us away."

"The gravity between us is fiercer than any storm, any disaster that might try to shake us." Gerry picks up Jon's train of thought, pulling them both minutely closer.

"Good," Martin says simply, fiercely in love and the happiest he's ever felt.

They watch the sun as it drops below the horizon, sometimes quiet and occasionally sharing some errant thought or another.

They eat ice cream on the way home, holding hands and laughing.

It's warm, and soft and peaceful.

And they're all, finally, home.

[rayneul]

Ray Route Bad Ending 3 Guide

(donʼt/never answer messages it give good heart so i suggest dont answer it :))

Day 10

01:46 – Want to Think Positively

Selection 1 Yoosung, are you interested in religions?

Selection 2 I’m safe, but it’s no thanks to V.

Selection 3 He helped me not to lose faith.

Selection 4 Yoosung, you don’t find this world a very beautiful place, do you? What if there is a paradise? Does it sound […]

Selection 5 I’m sure he has a thousand things to worry about, even with me excluded…. (Nothing)

Selection 6 Did he have to work as an agent…? I mean, there is some other place that will appreciate his talent….

Selection 7 He would’ve been better off working at the paradise… than being captured.

Selection 8 Seven…. You must be busy…. You’re in one hot water.

Selection 9 Did someone get you? (Nothing)

Selection 10 He’s kidding, right?

Selection 11 It’s too late.

 Yoosung Calling

- Yoosung, did you dream something?

- Wouldn’t he have done so knowing that Seven is in grave danger?

- Yoosung, cheer up. You’ve alerted V and done what you could.

03:18 – Thought it was a joke

Selection 1 There’s no way V can even protect Seven. He’s so helpless….

Selection 2 If that’s the case, he’ll pay for his wrongs.

Selection 3 He wouldn’t have lived as an agent…if he’d chosen Rika.

Selection 4 Are you here to tell me that you’ll handle it? Making new secrets again?

Selection 5 Please tell us if you managed to reach Seven… (Nothing)

Selection 6 You should get over to his place! (Nothing)

Selection 7 I’m sure it’s another secret…

Selection 8 Keep hiding like that, and you’ll lose this battle -!

Selection 9 I thought you’re the one who introduced the life as an informant to Seven. Is that really all you know?

Selection 10 I’m new to the RFA, but I might as well know more about Seven…

Selection 11 Have faith in yourself! (Nothing)

Selection 12 Now you see that you can’t trust him?

Selection 13 You realized that now? RFA is so much more naive than I thought… It’d be easy to bring all of you here.

Selection 14 I have a feeling now the RFA will be full of suspicions and uncertainties.

Selection 15 …I’ll tell you later. Please give me some more time. (Nothing)

Selection 16 You’re the representative of the RFA, but you’re being so stubborn to your members. Everyone will stay forever in […]

Selection 17 Don’t you think making Seven one of the RFA was a mistake in the first place?

Selection 18 Let’s just reveal everything and make RFA choose, to stay here or join this place.

Selection 19 If this is all because you made a wrong choice, V, I see no reason why we should pity you.

Selection 20 You should now take full responsibilty for what happened and lead the rest of the RFA to the right path.

Selection 21 If you can’t even heal yourself, just don’t do anything from now on.

Selection 22 No. When people love each other, they should give exactly what they want. You couldn’t give Rika the love she […]

Selection 23 I want someone to love me in the most perfect way. I trust there will be someone if it’s destined.

Selection 24 Even if you weren’t perfect, you should’ve never stopped trying to make your love perfect.

Selection 25 V, Rika didn’t happen to be your first love, did she?

Selection 26 You’re not going to take long again, are you?

Selection 27 Don’t you find V suspicious? You’re so naive, Zen.

Selection 28 That you for staying and giving us a very long talk. You should now rest. (Ray)

Selection 29 You say you’ll do something, but you won’t actually do it. You think words alone will make a difference?

Selection 30 Bye.

Selection 31 I think I understand Rika better than you do.

Selection 32 If you’re looking for an art, you should find it in your workplace.

Selection 33 Don’t you think she wanted acceptance of herself just the way she is?

Selection 34 You should give up now. RFA won’t be staying in one piece anymore.

Selection 35 I’ll be staying here.

 Zen Calling

- You have nothing to do with it. In my opinion, it’s V fault for not handing it well.

- If the prosecution is involved, wouldn’t we all get to know the truth? So try to calm down…

- Zen, I think it’s best if you take a rest.

- I just imagined Seven costume playing in energy…

06:21 – What happened last night

Selection 1 I don’t think we can find out everything new, unless V tells us his secrets.

Selection 2 You got a type.

Selection 3 I wanted to tell you. But I didn’t get a chance, my savior.

Selection 4 I’ll keep that in mind, my savior.

Selection 5 They are so frustrating. You must save them now!

Selection 6 Can’t we save Seven?

Selection 7 I think you should administer him well, my savior.

Selection 8 That’s great. Does he need cleansing ceremony by any chance?

Selection 9 I’m sure you made things very clear for him.

Selection 10 I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.

Selection 11 I can’t wait to be saves….

Selection 12 Yes. He looks so tragic, trapped in his own art.

Selection 13 He’ll soon kneel before you, my savior.

Selection 14 Saeran will soon wake up. And he’ll be make you happy.

Selection 15 Alright, my savior.

 Rika Calling

- What I feel is not important but… I want to remain in Mint Eye.

- I’ll do my best in my position even in the future.

- Does he look like Yoosung?

08:36 – I’ll Tell Everything

Selection 1 It was… Could you please tell the intelligence unit about it? (Ray)

Selection 2 But you’re fine with your life even without the RFA messenger…

Selection 3 At least there’s no question that now things have reached the point where V can’t undo them.

Selection 4 But it’s too late.

Selection 5 V, you returned sooner than I thought.

Selection 6 Are you here to tell us that you’ll handle Seven’s disappearance?

Selection 7 You’re right. He brought this upon himself.

Selection 8 Because public power is not part of this. This is something personal… (Ray)

Selection 9 You’re not going to badmouth Rika, aren’t you?

Selection 10 We can save everyone! Although we’ll need extreme luck – !!

Selection 11 Don’t you think that’s too cruel?

Selection 12 Tell us no, V. We don’t have much time. (Ray)

Selection 13 That’s when his choices started to take the wrong turn. It’s because of you, V….

Selection 14 We could use the genes from his family. I mean, his family is very powerful…

Selection 15 Yoosung, please don’t freak out!!

Selection 16 He abandoned his own brother as he became an agent.

Selection 17 He’s really good with computers… And he’s none other than… (Nothing)

Selection 18 So the prime minister is not what he looks like… (Ray)

Selection 19 Yes. They were supposed to leave themselves to the same fate, but V decided to ruin that.

Selection 20 No, his brother is doing much better. He’s at a place full of happiness.

Selection 21 I think RFA needs protection….

Selection 22 How much more are you planning to spill?

Selection 23 You’re the one who made Seven and informant. It’s all your fault.

Selection 24 Please consider me an angel from Rika.

Selection 25 At first, yes. But now I’m doing that to protect Seven’s brother and the RFA. (Nothing)

Selection 26 Yes. There were a couple troubles, but I survived.

Selection 27 The second hacker is the real one. The first one is a fake.

Selection 28 Both brothers were hurt because of you, V.

Selection 29 He’ll be angry. And he’ll lose faith in you, V.

Selection 30 That’s what you thought? That was stupid of you.

Selection 31 About this group the hacker is associated with…? (Nothing)

Selection 32 I think you’re already having a hard time…trying to wrap your head abound Seven’s past. (Nothing)

Selection 33 He could’ve tried to reason with the prime minister back then.

Selection 34 I must admit Seven’s family is really smart.

Selection 35 Yes. At least his brother’s safe, and that’s good.

Selection 36 Who knows if she’s still alive. That could be part of the secrets.

Selection 37 I only wish to bring the RFA to the Mint Eye, my savior.

Selection 38 There is a chance to bring both Seven and the prime minister to the Mint Eye.

Selection 39 Everthing will go as you wish, my savoir.

Selection 40 With your love, he’ll soon open his eyes.

 V Calling

- Show me your gratitude with money.

- Yes, I’m too good helping you, V.

- Isn’t it because you didn’t open up all the secrets?

11:49 – Best Present

Selection 1 How are Zen and Jaehee doing? (Nothing)

Selection 2 It’s too dangerous. You can’t reveal them.

Selection 3 That is unacceptable. We must protect the paradise!

Selection 4 We must stop the RFA and bring the prime minister and Seven here.

Selection 5 I think he’ll be of great help for the Mint Eye.

Selection 6 Is Saeran safe…? (Ray)

Selection 7 He made such a poor vow that he’ll be a parent. He shouldn’t have done that.

Selection 8 Seven will eventually join us. I can tell him better than anyone else that this place is the safest ground on Earth.

Selection 9 He was brought up in a blessed environment. He’ll never understand.

Selection 10 Everyone at this place can stay secure because you’re here.

Selection 11 For eternal paradise.

13:56 – Unexplainable Situation

Selection 1 This place is just great. Don’t worry about me.

Selection 2 Maybe V put those brothers against each other…

Selection 3 Of course the hacker is angry and upset. He’s been abandoned and hurt…

Selection 4 Even if that’s true, hatred is different from snow that will melt away after mere hours of sunbathing…

Selection 5 But there’s no denying the man got the brains.

Selection 6 But it can’t be helped. The smart rule over the world.

Selection 7 Am I glad that Yoosung and Jaehee are ordinary lol

Selection 8 Welcome, Jaehee!

Selection 9 Can’t we visit his house? We can at least run an investigation there, can’t we? (Ray)

Selection 10 You shouldn’t push yourself. You should stay safe. (Nothing)

Selection 11 He’s so sly, like his father….

Selection 12 He’s just taking a break…. He needs some time to recharge himself.

Selection 13 When is Jumin coming back? (Nothing)

Selection 14 Poor you, Jaehee… (Nothing)

Selection 15 Then just show the people some documents. Doesn’t that do the trick?

Selection 16 Can’t he tell apart his business form his personal life?!

Selection 17 Great idea. Count me in. (Nothing)

Selection 18 I miss him….

Selection 19 Let’s see whether he can beat his father.

Selection 20 Please let us know once Jumin calls you.

Selection 21 This place is heaven. I wish I could invite you for a visit.

Selection 22 We’ll see,

Selection 23 I have a feeling we’ll soon hear a good news.

16:13 – Return of Jumin

Selection 1 C & R is in an urgent situation! They need you now!

Selection 2 Don’t you feel a little tug at your heart for saying that?

Selection 3 lolololololoolol

Selection 4 But now we all know Seven is the prime minister’s illegitimate son, and he’s been kidnapped! (Nothing)

Selection 5 Where are you going to hang it?

Selection 6 We need to approach him in secret and offer a deal. He’s smart and won’t be wavered by emotions.

Selection 7 Because he wants to gain additional information on Seven…?

Selection 8 Not possible. The hacker is already happy here.

Selection 9 Hacker won’t join you. He can’t find happiness in the RFA’s world.

Selection 10 I can’t help you. Rather…why don’t you two come here in person and talk to him directly? I’ll escort you.

Selection 11 …Don’t get your hopes up.

Selection 12 Even if he gets back, he won’t be able to cooperate with the RFA.

Selection 13 His love for his brother is long gone.

Selection 14 I should tell you that there’s only a slim chance of success.

Selection 15 ….

Selection 16 I’m sorry, but Jumin’s plan will fail.

Selection 17 Bye!

Game Branch

i hope this work for you!! its took a bit time to write but here we go!! ^^

[mrcurrygoestospain]

Camino De Santiago - Round 5

Spain travel log, 2021…

Day One:

September 20 - Depart Seattle for Madrid, by way of London. There were plenty of issues just getting to this point. In addition to the ongoing concerns over COVID-19, or perhaps because of them, I had some serious concerns about whether I could and whether I should do this trip at all. In the end, I think I simply realized that it was totally appropriate for me to go on this trip: I’ve been “responsible” and taken the full round of vaccinations, generally avoided social contacts with people and been diligent about the masks. So I made my reservations and thought everything was fine. About 2 weeks before takeoff, I got an email from Iberia that one of my flights had been changed. When I looked into it, I found that it was the connecting flight from London to Madrid and the schedule had been bumped up by about 6 hours taking me from having a 2 hour layover in Heathrow to needing to be on a plane for Madrid 4 hours before I actually landed in London and would be able to board it… It took attempts at phone calls over several days to get this corrected. Finally, I tried while I was at top work one morning around 5:00 am. I finally got through and a nice lady helped rebook my connecting flight. She found the only available flight on that day that would work; now I have a seven hour layover.

I prepped for my trip, checklists and routes planned. I arrived at the airport 3 hours early, just in case. Although I booked with Iberia, it was a British flight. So standing in line at the BA counter in SeaTac, I saw the sign: “All passengers must show proof of a negative COVID test.” What? I’d already checked multiple times; I only need proof of vaccination to get into Spain. I check the internet. Sure enough, if you’re on a layover in England, you need a negative test…A quick Google search helped me find a testing center at SeaTac airport, so I rushed down to baggage claim number nine to see if I could get a test in time. In all honesty, I really thought I wasn’t going to make it and I’d have to try to contact the airline again to find a way to reschedule my flight. I stood in the line for what seemed like forever, but finally had the privilege of paying $250 for a rapid COVID test. T- minus 2 hours 30 minutes to departure and they promised results in 1-1.5 hours. The test itself was relatively painless. After all of the horror stories I’d heard about the nasal swabs, I was a bit worried. But it didn’t hurt, it just tickled a little bit. I waited, and waited…it seemed like they would never have my results. While I waited, I heard stories from other travelers who had missed flights or rebooking because of these ridiculous COVID-related requirements. One young Canadian lady I spoke to shared that she’d spent over $1000 on COVID tests in the last month due to traveling. I guess my $250 wasn’t so much.

I finally got my negative test results and rushed back to the check in counter, filled out the required government forms and headed through security. The flight was delayed.

After a nine hour flight to London, I had seven or eight hours to kill in Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5, before boarding my flight to Madrid. I shopped, I ate, I listened to podcasts. I took a few naps and generally cursed British Airways for changing my original flight. Some Italian guy made quite a scene at the boarding gate for the flight to Madrid. The gate agent handled it quite well and passive-aggressively punished him for his demeanor.

I arrived in Madrid after an easy flight on Iberia, made my way to the metro and on to my Hostel. It was a nice enough place. After 28 hours of travel, I was ready for a shower and bed.

Day 2:

On my one day in Madrid, I walked from my hostel/hotel to the Museo Nacional del Prado. It’s Spain’s greatest art museum. This was my second time there and I spent a lot more of it. There are so many amazing pieces and, for someone who used to truly despise art, it was amazing. I highly recommend it. I haven’t been to a whole lot of art museums, but it is, by far, my favorite. I followed that with a walk through the Royal Botanical Gardens. I’m sure they’re great when all of the flowers are blooming, but in early fall, it’s just a lot of green. Either way, it was still peaceful. I visited another nearby park, walked around and viewed the statues, and then made my way back towards the hotel and passed it to go to the Cathedral opposite the royal palace. It’s a much more modern cathedral than the ones I’ll see on the Camino, but still impressive.

Day 3:

On the morning of the third day, I got up early and got packed. Took the metro to the train station and purchased a ticket to Leon. After two hours on the train, I took a 20 minute walk to the hotel and dropped off my bag, and then spent the next few hours wandering the city. I found a barber and got a haircut for 9 Euro, quite a bargain. Stopped at the “Taste of America” shop to get a bottle of hot sauce (Cholula, of course), and just meandered around the city until I could get checked in at the hotel. It was a pretty uneventful day, which is just what I needed. I was still very tired from all of the traveling and trying to swap schedules.

Day 4:

I got up late, around 8:00 AM and started walking the city. I stopped for a cafe con leche and met a Scottish couple who had been walking the Camino for the last few weeks. While we waited out the rain under cover, the shared with me some of their other walking adventures, including tales of walking through the Swiss Alps on the Via Francigena, a pilgrimage route to Rome. I may have to look into that for a future trip. I also shared with them my plans/considerations of taking a walk on the “Great Glen Way” in Scotland. The wife had already done this and highly recommended it, along with the West Highland Way. Both are approximately 5-day walks through some of the wild country of Scotland. When the rain let up, we parted ways and I went to tour the Cathedral, toured the Basilica of Saint Isidore and wandered around town, shopping and eating. Inside the Saint Isidore museum and basilica, i had the opportunity to see what is referred to as the “Sistine Chapel of Romanesque Art” as well as a gold and silver cup that some historians claim is the “holy grail.”

Day 5:

Didn’t sleep much…I forgot how much they like to party in Spain. It was LOUD all night long. Anyway, started my walk. Today was about 27 km and it rained through about 50% of the day. It was a mix of roads and dirt tracks. I only saw one other pilgrim, a Spaniard who doesn’t speak any English. I got ahead of him and had stopped for a rest at a picnics table on top of a mountain. He showed up a few minutes behind me and I tried to chat for a minute, but the language barrier…. I offered him half of my tangerine and then he took off again. I passed him up later. I had been slightly worried about where to stay for the night as the municipal albergue in this province/state are currently closed due to the ‘Rona, but when I got to town I found a pension with rooms available. The lovely lady named Susana showed me to a room and also worked tirelessly to make me a reservation for the following night. I hadn’t eaten much for the day, so I ordered big: hot dog and patatas oil bravas. Patatas bravas is a traditional dish in Spain which is made of fried potatoe cubes that are covered in a (typically) spicy tomato sauce. Potatoes Ali Oli are the same fried potatoes but with a garlic cream sauce instead of the spicy sauce. This one combined both sauces. It was nice. The inside of the restaurant/bar/cafe was very loud with a bunch of men playing a card game I’m not familiar with, so I went outside to have a beer. An older Spaniard, named Hilario, came out and started trying to talk to me. I explained that I am American and I don’t speak much Spanish, but he disagreed. So he went inside and got another man, a Hungarian who had been in Spain for the last 25 years, named Fernanco(?) who was extremely drunk, to come out and talk to me. He was so drunk, he introduced himself as “muy borracho” or “very drunk” and the proceeded to tell me that he used to be a muy Thai fighter and a coal miner and now he was just a fat drunk who collected money from the government because he got hit in the head too many times. At least I THINK that’s what they were saying…. I went to bed early to get a good rest and let my aching feet and hips recover before a long day tomorrow….from La Robla to Poladura, should be about 25km or so with some very intense climbs. We’ll see.

I’m currently on the Camino San Salvador, which is a route from Leon to Oviedo. They say “whoever goes to Santiago without visiting Oviedo, goes to the servant but not to the Lord.” This is because Oviedo is famous for having a specific relic. While most people are aware of the Shroud of Turin, which is the burial cloth of Jesus, many don’t know (including me, until recently) that traditional Jewish burial included placing a cloth over the face of the deceased immediately after death and until the body was prepared for burial. This cloth would then be removed and the full-body cloth would be applied. So anyway, this Cathedral boasts possession of the face covering that was placed over Jesus’ head, likely immediately after the spear pearled his side and before he was brought down off of the cross. Once I complete the Camino San Salvador (about 5 days, I hope), I will continue on to the Camino Primitivo, one of the many Camino’s de Santiago. So the Camino San Salvador goes to the relics of Christ and the Camino Santiago (Santiago = Saint James) goes to the resting place and remains of Saint James (the major), also known as “Santiago Matamoros” or “Saint James the Moor Slayer”, the patron saint of Spain.

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

How about it?

Warnings: age gap, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it, people!) 18+ readers

Y/N - Your Name

BF/N - Bestfriend Name

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"I can't believe you made me do that." you flopped back in your chair frustrated with your best friend.

BF/N rolled her eyes at you. "Oh, shut up. It's a little fun, Y/N."

Your senior prom was next week and so far you hadn't been asked (not that you were bothered) but BF/N was already going with the guy she'd been crushing on for months. You'd always found it strange dating in high school; you were the only one in your year that was 19. It wasn't a huge problem being older than everyone (your late in the year birthday being what screwed you over) but you'd suddenly matured more than the boys in your year and you weren't exactly eyeing anyone who liked giving wedgies to the younger kids or nerds. So, jokingly, you said to BF/N you should just ask Tom Hiddleston out and, here you were.

"Relax, I bet he doesn't even take notice... No offense." BF/N smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes sighing. "Thanks."

----------

Your day at school and after went pretty normal, the whole silly message you sent to Tom Hiddleston was pushed to the back of your mind and forgotten about. Until your phone pinged as you were getting into bed that night.

Your eyes widened as you re-read the message. This was real. Why?

Tom Hiddleston: Hello, love. Sorry for the delay in my reply but I wanted to make sure I could spend some time getting to know my date. I hope you don't mind my late-night message? x

Y/N: No, not at all. Thank you for replying x

Tom Hiddleston: Not at all, love. A beauty such as yourself shouldn't be kept waiting. May I ask you a question? x

Y/N: Of course x

Tom Hiddleston: Why would such a young, beautiful woman such as yourself want to take me, an old man to her senior prom? Surely you have boys your age on their knees begging you to go? x

Y/N: 1. I'm not that beautiful but thank you 2. YOU ARE NOT AN OLD MAN 3. The boys my age are just that, boys. They're a pain, they smell and they think to give those that have good grades wedgies are what turn a girl on.

Y/N: It's not, at all.

Tom Hiddleston: Noted.

This year the students had voted to have the prom at a fancy hotel instead of the school so your parents booked you a hotel room for you to get ready in, instead of getting ready at home and traveling to the hotel. Your mother spent the entire day with you doing your hair and makeup, asking questions about your mystery date. You'd told her an older 'boy' you had fancied for ages was taking you to the prom; what were you going to say 'the guy who plays Loki is taking me'. She'd have a breakdown.

It had been a while since you had received a message from Tom and were starting to have doubts. It was a pretty stupid thing to believe, a famous actor wanting to take you to prom. So, when the clock hit an hour after the official start of the prom and there was no sign of Tom arriving, you decided to give up waiting for him and headed down. Not the best way to arrive; late and on your own but your dress was too expensive not to go.

You sighed as you waited for the elevator to come up to your floor. It felt like ages before you heard the little ding and the automated voice say 'floor four'. You looked up as the doors opened, your eyes widening as a very audible gasp left your mouth. There stood the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on, beard and all.

"Sorry I'm late, love. Traffic was a nightmare." Tom smiled down at you, your heart actually skipped a beat when he did. "It's nice to finally meet you." he held his hand out to you.

You gulped nodding. "Y-You too." you smiled slightly.

Tom lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles, smiling as he kept eye contact with you. Oh damn... He stepped back still holding your hand as you walked into the elevator. "I tried messaging you to let you know but my phone wasn't playing. Stupid technology," he muttered under his breath making you smile. "I'm awfully sorry, love."

You shook your head smiling. "It's fine, honestly."

Tom took a deep breath as he looked down at you, smiling as he raised his hand and softly brushed a piece of your hair back from your face. "You look absolutely stunning, Y/N." he whispered.

You blushed looking down for a moment forgetting what you were wearing for a minute.

"Thank you. You look as handsome as ever." you blushed a little more as you looked up to him, even in your heels you were still a little shorter than him but you liked how it felt. "I like the beard." you smiled up at him softly.

Tom chuckled as he placed his hand over his chin, giving it a slight rub. "You do? I didn't take you for the rough type of girl. Not many women do like my facial hair."

You nodded chewing the inside of your cheek. The thought of having his beard covered face between your legs sent shivers down your spine. "I'll take you anyway." you closed your eyes sighing. "I meant, I like you with or without me, the beard. You pull any look off." you blushed again. "Sorry," you muttered looking down. Idiot.

Tom chuckled, pinching your chin in between his thumb and index finger. "Don't apologize, my love. You can take me however you like." he winked making you blush even more.

"Smooth." you giggled making him laugh.

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The pair of you eventually made your way into the ballroom where the prom was being held and of course as soon as Tom entered practically everything stopped. Some knew who he was and was shocked to see him there with your arm looped through his. Some had no clue who he was and were shocked to see you dressed the way you were. Some were shocked to see your date was an older man but neither of you cared. You caught the wide eyes look your best-friend wore as you walked passed her. 'Holy fuck' she mouthed as she looked at you making you giggle slightly.

"Why is everyone staring at you?" Tom asked, his lips brushing your ear gently as he did, sending shivers over your body.

"Me? Are you serious? You're Tom Hiddleston. Loki. Famous." you deadpanned making him chuckle. "They're probably thinking I paid you or something."

Tom came to a stop taking your hand in his and pulled you round to face him. "Trust me, your beauty and charm is enough payment, love." he smiled.

You shook your head giggling. "You're the charming one. If I was wearing pants, you'd have charmed them off by now."

Tom's head fell back with laughter. "That's good to know," he smirked at you. "Come, let's start enjoying your prom, shall we?" you nodded grinning as he lead you over to the bar.

After you introduced Tom to your best friend, Tom dragged you off to the dance floor. At first you were nervous and embarrassed because everyone was still watching you but when Tom pulled you closer to him so he could whisper 'Just look at me, sweetheart' you instantly relaxed. Although, it didn't last long; you started to get interrupted by people asking to have their photo taken with Tom and at first he was happy to do so. It was in his nature to be polite and gentlemanly but after the sixth time of you being pushed out the way, he had had enough.

He sighed heavily before he excused himself, moving over to where you stood toying with the straw in your drink. He slipped his arm around your waist as he leaned down. "Are you okay?"

You nodded sighing, mumbling 'fine', not daring to look up to him.

Tom frowned before he stood up straight. "Come with me." he took your hand in his and lead you through the crowd of students until you left the ballroom. "Have you eaten?" he asked looking down at you.

You shook your head. "Not for a while." Tom nodded smiling at you. "Why?"

"To order room service and get away from those ruining our fun." he winked as he walked you inside the waiting elevator. "Is, that alright?" he asked as the doors shut.

You nodded taking a deep breath. "That's, perfect." you grinned.

-------------

Once the two of you were back in your hotel room, you and Tom got straight to ordering room service going way overboard with everything. Burgers and fries, milkshakes, chocolate cake.

"This is probably your most boring night ever, isn't it?" you muttered as you sat on the bed, leaned back on your hand whilst you ate your fries.

Tom turned his head to look down at you, sighing deeply. "Quite opposite. I'm sat with the most beautiful woman I've ever met." he smiled softly. "I'm only sorry I attracted so much attention and seemed to have ruin your prom." he frowned slightly as he looked to the half-eaten burger in his hand.

You shook your head giggling. "It was bound to happen. I shouldn't have messaged you in the first place." you sighed deeply. "It's stupid really, I mean, you don't even know me."

"Well, let's get to know each other... what are you going to do when you leave school?" Tom asked, genuinely interested as he placed his burger down and wiped his hands on a napkin.

You smiled sitting up. "I'm taking a year off to go traveling before going to school."

Tom nodded slowly. "Ah, sounds fun." he smiled. "What are you going to be studying?" he asked.

"Dance." you smiled. "I wanted to go traveling before I had the reality of moving to a different country and relying on myself."

Tom raised his eyebrow. "Different country?"

You nodded smiling a little more, excitement filling you. "Yeah, London, I've been accepted into a performing arts school over there." you grinned at him.

Tom nodded as you started talking about what you were looking forward to when you left school. It was funny really, you may still be in high school for a couple of months but you seemed a lot more mature for your age. Suddenly Tom noticed a blob of chocolate frosting land just above your the neckline of your dress.

"Oh, God." you moaned as you looked down.

Tom gulped as felt the moan go straight to his cock Fuck!

You went to wipe it off yourself but Tom grabbed a hold of your hand, stopping you. You looked up to see Tom wearing a list blown look sending shivers right down to your core.

You gasped as Tom leaned forward slowly, his eyes locked on yours looking for any sort of hesitation from you but there was none. You closed your eyes as Tom's lips came into contact with your skin. You moaned as his tongue licked up the chocolate frosting.

"Oh, God." you moaned as his lips began assaulting your skin. His beard tickling your skin.

Tom let go of your hand so he could place it on the back of your neck as he moved up your body, trailing kisses and licks across your skin until finally, his lips were on yours. The pair of you moaned into the kiss, your hands falling to his waist as you felt his tongue caress yours.

"Tell me you don't want this. Tell me this is a mistake and I'll leave." Tom whispered against your lips.

You shook your head. "Stay. Please," you begged.

Tom nodded and stood to his feet holding his hand out to you. You stood up, staring into his eyes and slowly the pair of you began to undress one another. Before you knew it Tom was laying you down on your back as the pair you kissed slowly, his arms wrapped around you, holding your naked bodies together.

He pulled back with a soft moan before kissing you harder, his beard scratching your lips. "So beautiful," Tom whispered as he kissed your jaw and neck.

He kissed and nipped at your skin as he worked his way down to your chest, sucking and leaving a wet trail across your chest until he came to your plump chest. His tongue flicked across your hard nipples. You moaned loudly as one hand slid down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he made his way down to your waiting cunt. He moaned against your skin as his fingers brushed your already wet folds.

"Fuck." he pulled back to look at you. "My God, you're just the prettiest sight I've ever seen." he smiled softly at you, his words making you blush.

"Please," you whispered, pulling him closer to you. "I need you."

Tom placed his mouth over yours as he slowly filled your pussy with two of his long fingers. You moaned into his mouth as you felt him pull them out slowly before pushing them back in. He repeated this for a few seconds before introducing his thumb to your throbbing clit.

"OH, FUCK!" you cried out as a wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

"Shh, baby girl, I've got you." he kissed your jaw and neck. "That's it. Cum for me, Y/N." he whispered as he curled his fingers up to meet that spot deep inside you, his thumb still rubbing your clit as his mouth caressed your skin; everything building up only to fall as your orgasm broke.

"OH GOD!" you cried out, your eyes rolling back.

Tom carefully pulled his fingers from you as wrapped the same hand around his impressive length, using your juices to slick himself up.

"Sweetheart?"

You nodded humming, a small, content smile on your face. "Yeah." you blushed as you opened your eyes, seeing Tom was already grinning at you.

"Thought you were gone then." he chuckled softly. "Want me to continue?"

You nodded quickly. "God, yes!"

He pressed his lips to yours softly. "Promise me when you move to London, you'll call me. Then I'll take you on a real date." he gave you a warm, caring smile as he brushed your hair back from your face.

You nodded smiling. "It's a date."

You sighed happily as you and Tom closed the gap between the pair of you, once again your lips caressing each other. The tip of Tom's cock brushed against you clit making you moan softly against his mouth. Slowly Tom pushed inside you, you slick helping him glide right in until his hips were flush with yours. The pair you moaned out at the feeling.

Tom dropped his face to the crook of your neck as he tried to calm his breath, your pussy felt perfect around him. You silly dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red lines behind.

"Please, Tom." you whimpered against his ear.

Tom nodded as he pressed soft kisses against your shoulder as he gently pulled his hips back until the head of his cock was the only part of him inside you before he snapped his hips forward again, filling you up.

"OH FUCK!" you groaned as pleasure-filled you, over and over.

Tom's lips never left you as he moved his hips back and forth. Not too fast and hard but not too slow either. Just right. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you, feeling the head of his hit your g-spot.causing you to cry out.

"God! Oh, shit, yes-" Tom buried his face into your neck as he growled. "So, good... baby, cum for me..." he muttered as he pressed his fingers of one hand against your clit and used the other to hold your face close, his mouth taking your screams of his name.

Your orgasm took your breath away as you squeezed around Tom, pulling him over the edge too. He slumped over you as he tried to catch his breath. Lazily your fingers trailed up and down his spine, kissing his shoulder and neck as you laid in your bliss.

"What happens on a real date with you?" you asked, giggling as you felt Tom grin into your shoulder.

He pulled back licking his lips. "Oh, you'll see."

Part 2