#i will just leave this one uncommented

[jollymalt]

forgiveness

[softspiderling]

and there you are on your knees | j.v

summary:

For a split second, your eyes met and it felt like he could see right through you. You tried not to flinch, keeping your head straight on and your gaze locked on him, hoping he would would avert his gaze. But he didn’t.

“Bent. Knees.”

Oh.

OR; Prince Jacaerys Velaryon arrives at the Twins to secure passing for the troops marching for his cause. He is successful in more ways than one.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+, MDNI, oral sex (male receiving), p in v, as usual, Jace has been aged up to 20!

word count: 1,8k

author’s note: remember when i posted that pic of jace like three weeks ago? i looked at it last week and went "what if...?👀" and this was born. idk😭😭 also am i crazy or hasnt anyone written anything about this scene before?? that’s illegal🙅🏻‍♀️ anyways tagging my hotd bestie @eldrith ily thanks for letting me yap your ear off, happy reading y’all🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had heard rumours about the first son of Queen Rhaenyra; every lady that had met him sighed over his luscious dark brown locks or the handsomeness of his face that seemed to be carved out of the most expensive stone in the whole realm. Still, you were quite taken aback by how beautiful he really was when he crossed the bridge of the Twins, his dragon waiting for him in the greens just by the tower.

He truly knew how to make a first impression last.

“Lady Frey, Lord Frey,” Prince Jacaerys said, nodding to the sitting pair, hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flickered to you for a second.

“Lady…?”

“Frey, my Prince.”

Prince Jacaerys raised a surprise eyebrow but let it go uncommented, only eyeing you up and down very briefly before taking his sword off as he sat down.

Lady Frey poured him wine and without much preamble, they begun their talks of trades. You kept yourself mostly to the back, fulfilling your role as a ward, ever present but never putting your nose in affairs you had no business in. You tried to listen, the Prince seemingly asking for passing for troops coming in from the North, which Lady and Lord Frey agreed to after some negotiations; but you tried to use the advantage of being ignored to take in the Prince. He was young still, but he carried himself with a certain aura of power and confidence, which was a given; he was the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms after all.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted and you quickly put your very inappropriate thoughts about the Crown Prince away, trying to pay atention once more.

“You want Harrenhal.”

Lord and Lady Frey glanced at each other in silent conversation, while the Prince finished his drink, standing to hold his cup out for Lady Frey to refill.

“For that, my mother will want more than your crossing,” Prince Jacaerys said easily, his chin held high.

“What does her Grace desire?”

Prince Jacaerys discarded his cup on the table, leaning both his hands on it, towering over Lord and Lady Frey. For a split second, your eyes met and it felt like he could see right through you. You tried not to flinch, keeping your head straight on and your gaze locked on him, hoping he would avert his gaze. But he didn’t.

“Bent. Knees.”

Oh.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were scandalous and really downright filthy as the prince kept thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth, one hand fisted around your hair, the other holding onto his tunic, so he had an unobstructed view of you.

When Prince Jacaerys had asked you to show him the privy before he left, you had not expected him to back you into a secluded corner of the hallway, his lips upon yours and you felt like you were in a dream.

You were on your knees, your pretty dress flared out on the dirty floor, the hard stones digging into your shins, likely leaving bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“If I had known the Freys had such a pretty little thing for a ward, I would have come sooner,” Prince Jacaerys grunted, making you whine softly. He tightened his hold on your hair a little, snapping his hips up and tears sprang into your eyes as you nearly choked at the sheer size of him. Your hands grabbed at his waist to steady yourself, as he fucked his cock into your mouth, before he pulled out with a groan.

“Fuck, you nearly made me release,” Prince Jacaerys muttered, swiping his thumb over your lower lip. “But I am not quite done with you yet.”

He grabbed you by the arm, helping you stand, pressing his lips against yours, inarguably tasting himself on you, but Prince Jacaerys didn’t seem to mind. You pulled away from the kiss, your chest still heaving and your cheeks red. All of this was new to you, and you were embarrassed that you had to catch your breath.

Prince Jacaerys looked down on you with a smirk, brushing the sweaty hair off of your forehead.

“Turn around,” he said, turning you by the shoulder to press you up against the cold stone of the wall. “Have you ever laid with another man?”

“No,” you answered with a shake of your head, your cheeks turning a deeper red, nervous and excited at the same time, at the prospect of a man taking your maidenhood, the crown prince of the Iron Throne nonetheless.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you repeated, voice breathless. "Please, I want this."

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered into your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, making you shiver.

Slotting himself against your back, Prince Jacaerys lifted the skirt of your dress to reach between your legs, his fingers rubbing over your pearl, your hips bucking in surprise as you moaned out.

“Patience, my sweets,” Prince Jacaerys rumbled, trapping your skirt under his arm, which he snuck around your waist. His fingers circled into your folds, gathering your wetness before he dipped one finger into your cunt.

“Oh Gods help me,” you moaned, writhing in his arm and Prince Jacaerys only chuckled.

“No Gods here, only me.”

He pumped his finger in and out of your cunt, until your walls acclimated to the intrusion and he added another finger, making you roll your eyes to the back. Never before have you felt such pleasure down there, you weren’t sure if you could go back to not knowing how it felt.

“Just… One more,” Prince Jacaerys mumbled, adding a third finger and you felt incredibly full, like you were split open, but in a good way? The pads of his fingers kept brushing against the spongy part inside of you, which made you curl your toes in your shoes. You leaned your forehead against the cold stone, feeling a growing sensation in your lower stomach.

“I think… I think I might..” you groaned, your lips parted.

“What?” Prince Jacaerys said, his breath hot on your ear as he kept fucking you with his fingers. “Are you going to come, Lady Frey?”

“Y-yes, my Prince.”

“Call me by my given name and I’ll let you.”

He pressed onto your pearl with his thumb and you swore you saw black for second before you came, a moan of his name on your tongue.

“Incredible,” he whispered, pulling his hand away to tug on his cock that had been rutting against your backside, leaving a smear of his precum on your skin.

“This might be uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

You weren’t quite sure what Prince Jacaerys was talking about when you felt the head of his cock breaching your cunt and you let out a small gasp.

It hurt at first, and you let out a small breath as he kept pushing his cock in - Gods, did it ever end?

“Gods you’re tight,” Prince Jacaerys groaned, his hands gripping your waist when he was fully sheathed inside of you. You only whimpered in reply - how would you previously think you were full when he had three fingers inside of you? This was no comparison.

You let out a laboured breath, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your temple and you shifted on your feet, letting out a surprised moan when it caused delicious friction of the Prince’s cock inside your cunt.

“Ah, you’re feeling it, don’t you,” Prince Jacaerys whispered lowly in your ear, bringing your hair to the side, so he could place wet kisses upon your back. “The pleasure coursing through you, like you have never felt before?”

Just as the words left his mouth, he started to thrust his cock into you with no abandon. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the hallway, coupled with his grunts and your moans, it was a miracle no one stumbled upon you, but even if they did, you didn’t know if you’d care enough to stop.

Your blunt nails scraped against the walls, as the Prince’s cock kept going in and out, you were starting to see walls. It wasn’t long before you could feel the warm sensation in your lower stomach forming again, this time so much more intense.

“P-please,” you whimpered, your whole body feeling like it was burning.

“Lo ao’re beri nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao ñuhon,” Prince Jacaerys whispered into your hair as his cock drove into you.

You were too fucked out to realize you didn’t understand him, and definitely too fucked out to ask what he had just said to you, clinging to the wall for any semblance of support as your body shook with every thrust.

“I’m almost there,” Prince Jacaerys grunted, his hand finding your pearl again as he slowed his thrusts, instead thrusting harder, finger pressing down on your pearl. “Will you finish for me, my sweets?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

The Prince only chuckled, not once pausing his movement but accelerating the circles he was drawing on your pearl, until you finally broke, a wave of pleasure washing over you so powerful it knocked you over.

“Gods, Jacaerys!” you moaned, your cunt pulsating in its wake, your eyes fluttering shut, leaning against the wall.

You were only standing because the Prince kept a steady grip on you, his cock still fucking into your wet, soppy cunt. His thrust stuttered before he gave one last, thrust, shooting his warm seed right into your hole, your cunt milking him for everything he was worth, the seed escaping from the sides, dripping down your legs as he pulled out.

With one hand, Prince Jacaerys tucked his cock back into his pants and letting your dress fall back down, his other hand holding you upright, your knees still weak.

“Can you stand?”

“I think?”

His hand was firm but gentle as he turned you around, a smirk on his lips as you looked up at him through your lashes, completely ruined. Again, he pushed the hair out of your face, almost lovingly, as if he didn’t just shoot his seed into your cunt, his seed that you could still feel trickling down your leg, beneath your dress.

“Maybe I will be back,” Prince Jacaerys said, wiping his thumb over you mouth. “Make sure you really are staying loyal to the rightful heir of the Iron Throne.”

You chuckled breathlessly, looking up at him. “House Frey would welcome you with open arms.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, slowly released your waist, before he leaned down to kiss you deeply. You sighed softly against his lips, but the kiss was over sooner than you had wished, your mouth chasing his.

“Be good, make sure your guardians keep their words or I will come for their heads.”

With those words, Prince Jacaerys left you in the dark hallway, still catching your breath. This was not how you had envisioned the Crown Prince’s visit to go.

But who were you to complain if he was so generous?

────────────

Lo ao’re beri nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao ñuhon = if you’re lucky i might make you mine

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author’s note: thoughts?👀

[kneelingshadowsalome]

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight. 

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you. 

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff. 

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat. 

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin. 

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you. 

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips. 

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life. 

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week. 

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs. 

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him. 

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him. 

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin? 

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale. 

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home. 

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn. 

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent. 

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want. 

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away. 

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear. 

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring. 

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two. 

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been. 

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night. 

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back. 

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all. 

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable. 

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man. 

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod. 

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone. 

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison. 

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek. 

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls. 

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…” 

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself. 

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more. 

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down. 

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?” 

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you. 

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh. 

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death. 

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself. 

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep. 

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice. 

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (42/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The new bed is here! And Joris isn't happy about it!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

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A/N: LETS GOOOOOOOO!!! FORZA FERRARI!!!

“It was really nice of you to take the photos for Enzo and Charlotte,” Charles says as you both get into the car in the afternoon. He buckles up and starts the engine. 

“It's my job, after all,” you smile and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Charles steers the car out of the driveway. "Well, actually it's your job to take pictures of me, not of my brother's engagement," he corrects you, for which you gently punch him on the shoulder. 

“I still enjoyed doing it,” you say. "I'm very happy for Enzo and Charlotte. They seem like the perfect couple.”

Charles purses his lips and nods. "They've been together for a long time. We were all wondering when he would finally pop the question. But I didn't think he'd actually do it during Christmas.”

You look at him. ”Why not?”

“I don't know,“ he replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have thought he would have done it in the summer, after a nice day on the boat and then maybe at dinner.”

You look at him. "Maybe he wanted to combine it with something nice – and Christmas is a celebration of love.” You can't help but grin. “And he didn't have to buy her a Christmas present, just a ring.”

Your roommate laughs. “Should I do the same to you next year? Just propose to you so I don't have to get you a gift?” 

You know it's a joke, but when the words leave his mouth, you feel warm. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Absolutely not.”

The Monegasque steers the car through the streets of his home country. “And how should I propose then? Do you want a trip in a hot air balloon? At Times Square, where everyone is watching? Or at a Taylor Swift concert while she sings Love Story?”

You can't suppress a giggle. ”None of that, please.”

“Then tell me.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Mmm. I've never really thought about it much. But I think I'd rather have a moment that's just for the two of us. Where no one else is watching, where we're on our own. No onlookers, no one to talk about it. Just the two of us – I think that would be perfect.”

Charles squeezes your hand twice. “Good to know.” He smiles at you briefly before looking back at the road. “By the way, I asked Pierre and Kika if they wanted to go to Lando's party with us tonight. I hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I feel like I haven't seen Kika in ages. But it was only – what – four days ago?” 

“I think so. They want to come around seven, so you two can get ready together and maybe have a drink.” 

Without thinking about it, you lean over and kiss his cheek. "You're the best, Charles." You can see the blush rising in his face, but you let it go uncommented.

“I know,” he says with a grin as he turns into the underground parking garage. When the car comes to a stop, you both get out and you press the elevator button while Charles takes your bags out of the trunk. 

“What are the parties like in Monaco?” you ask him as you both enter the elevator. ‘Do you have to dress particularly chic or does it depend on the club? How much money do I need to take with me? Is my ID card enough or do I need to take anything else?’ you bombard him with questions. 

Charles has to laugh. ”Haven't you ever been out partying?”

You shake your head and press the button for your floor. “Not in Monaco, no.”

The elevator doors close and you feel it transport you upwards. The Monegasque looks down at you. “The club where Lando's friend performs is chic, but not super chic. If you like –”

“Where the fuck have you been?” an angry Joris bellows at you as the elevator door opens. 

You almost have a heart attack from the shock, but Charles just looks at his best friend in confusion.

“Since when did you stop checking your cell phones? I've tried to reach you ten thousand times!” Joris's face is as red as a tomato as he snarls at you angrily and you get out of the elevator without saying a word. ”I was still asleep! And I didn't even get to eat breakfast!”

Charles puts your two bags down next to the apartment door. "And a good morning to you, Joris. How can I help you?” He walks past him, deeper into the apartment, Joris follows him, seething. You follow them in silence.

“How you can help me?” Joris asks snappishly, leaning on the kitchen worktop with his hands, before pointing at a few sheets in front of him with his index finger. “Next time you order furniture, at least be home when it's delivered, or leave your own cell phone number so they can call you if they ring the doorbell and you don't open it.” 

Charles opens his eyes wide. ”Our bed.”

Joris sneers. “This shitty bed has cost me valuable hours of sleep. And I certainly shouldn't have driven here.”

Charles can hardly keep a grin off his face as he turns around and opens the fridge. "How many bottles of wine did you drink yesterday?", he asks, placing eggs, vegetables and bacon on the counter in front of him. 

“Two.”

Your roommate gets a bowl and a pan out of a drawer before he starts to crack the eggs into them. “Did you throw up in your front yard?”

Joris rolls his eyes and watches as Charles prepares his hangover breakfast. "No.”

“Then congratulations,’ Charles grins. ”Then you had a successful Christmas.”

The omelette tastes so good that Joris's anger disappears with the first bite. He talks about Christmas dinner with his parents and his brother and the family vacation planned for next year, while he shovels the omelette into himself like a bulldozer. In between, Charles slides him coffee across the counter in a cup, but doesn't dare get closer to his hungry and hungover friend. 

“By the way, the bed is very nice,” Joris finally says, pushing the empty plate away. ‘You could have at least warned me.”

“I'm sorry,’ Charles apologizes with pursed lips. ”Are we friends again?”

Joris sighs. “Of course,” he smiles, getting up from his chair to embrace his oldest friend. They both pat each other on the back before letting go. “I have to go now. By the way, I gave the delivery man a €150 tip for kindly setting up the bed. Thank God you had some money lying around.”

Charles watches his friend go in the direction of the apartment door with confusion. “The setup was already included in the price.“

The photographer purses his lips. "At least they got a nice tip," he finally says, before leaving the apartment and leaving you two alone. 

Without saying a word, you take the dirty dishes and wash them in the sink while Charles puts your bags in the bedroom. When he returns, he stands directly behind you. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. 

“We also have a dishwasher, you know?” he whispers, laying his chin on your shoulder. His arms wrap around your middle, his chest pressing against your back. 

You nod and lean against him. “But we don't need to run the dishwasher for that,” you reply, breathing in as his hand slowly slides under your sweater. “It was very nice of you to make Joris breakfast, even though it's already afternoon.”

“Mm-hmm,” Charles hums softly. "It was the least I could do. It was really nice of him to come here to take delivery of the bed. I'd completely forgotten that I put down his cell phone number." 

“Joris is a good friend.”

“He is,” he murmurs and kisses your cheek. ‘But I prefer to have you lying in my new bed." He gently pulls you out of the kitchen towards the bedroom where the new bed is. Joris was even kind enough to make the bed; dark gray sheets are smoothly stretched over the mattress and you would love to snuggle up in them. 

“It looks incredibly cozy,“ you smile. 

“Come on.” Charles gently pushes you towards the bed. “I told you I wanted you in it.” He watches you with eagle eyes as you slowly crawl onto the bed and slip under the covers, putting your cell phone on the nightstand. As if you've been conditioned, you have to yawn. 

“The bed was definitely the right decision,” you smile and stretch your arms to fold them behind your head. "But it was definitely the wrong decision to trick me to get into it.”

“Why?’ your roommate chuckles. ”Too comfortable?”

“Definitely. I'd love to stay here forever.” You tap the empty side of the bed next to you. ”Come and try it out.”

Without wasting another moment, Charles circles the bed and lies down next to you. His arm wraps around your middle again and pulls you towards him so that your chests are touching. “I see your point. It is pretty comfortable.” His hand slides up your back under your sweater until it finds its place between your shoulder blades. 

You close your eyes and breathe out. “Do we have to go out partying tonight? I mean, can't we just order take-out and stay in?”

“Of course we could do that,” he smiles. 'But I highly doubt you want to cancel on Kika and Lando.”

You sigh. ‘We could invite everyone here," you suggest. ”The bed is big enough for all of us and –”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupts you and shakes his head vehemently. ‘The only ones allowed in this bed are already in it. Nobody else is allowed to snuggle up in the covers. Besides, I don't like the thought of you lying in a bed with Lando.”

You raise your hand and gently run your fingers through his brown curls. "Are you jealous?”

A deep growl escapes Charles' throat. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and kiss his stubbled cheek. ”You do know that Lando is the reason we're friends again, right? Because he called you when you were in Italy?”

“I am aware,“ he mumbles, pressing you closer. "Doesn't mean you have to share a bed, though.’ 

“You don't have to worry about that,” you grin. “There's only one man I want to share a bed with.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Don't worry, Charlie. You're the one I mean, of course.”

“Perfect.”

You lie in bed for a while, legs tangled and snuggled together. You gently run your fingers through his hair while his fingertips caress your back. Lying here with him feels so normal, so familiar, that you don't ever want to be in a bed without him again. 

“You still haven't answered my questions about tonight,” you say eventually, and your hand gently caresses the soft skin at the nape of his neck. 

Charles almost moans, his eyes closed. "I'll pay for you.”

“But I can pay for myself," you smile, even though he's not looking at you.

“Doesn't matter.” Your fingers pause in their movement. Charles fidgets a little, wanting for you to continue.

“You're about to fall asleep, Charlie," you giggle, but comply with his silent request. 

He moves closer to you and cuddles his face into the hollow between your jaw and your shoulder before taking a deep breath. “I'm not,” he replies softly. “But lying here with you is so comfortable.” He leisurely pulls at your sweater to reveal the skin on your neck and places feather-light kisses where your pulse is beating. Goosebumps spread across your body. 

“Charles...”

“Let's cancel on everyone,” he whispers, and his hand moves to your thigh to drape your leg over his hip so that you are literally pressed against each other, body to body. You feel his hardness against your clothed core. 

You sigh. “But you just said that we can't cancel,” you reply. “Besides, you already said yes to Lando and invited Pierre and Kika.”

“I don't care,” he breathes. “Let's be crappy friends and cancel at the last minute. I'm sure the others will understand.”

“What will they understand, hm? That the bed is so comfortable that we don't want to leave it?“ you ask him quietly. 

“That I'd rather be here in bed with you than standing in a crowded club.” His breath caresses your neck gently. “That I'd rather test out the new bed with you than yell at you over the loud music just to be able to talk to you.”

His words make your face heat up. You hope he doesn't notice. “Then we'd be very bad friends.”

“Then let's be very bad friends,” he grins against your neck before pressing a final kiss on your pulse. “We can make it up to them sometime. Just not today. Today I want you all to myself. Now that I finally have you back with me.”

You feel him press his boner against you and you absentmindedly tighten your leg around his waist. Your fingers gently press into his neck muscles and his breathy moans reach your ears. You can feel your arousal pool in your panties and you want to give in so bad. 

You want to stay home with him. In this bed. You want to repeat last night at his mom’s house, but this time the both of you would be able to show how much pleasure you give each other. You desperately want to hear him groan again, but now without the barrier of your hand on his mouth. You want to feel his cock against your pussy, sliding through your folds and gathering your juices. 

God, you want to repeat last night but without any clothes on. His cock nudging against your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your veins. His hands grabbing your ass and moving you over his length. You want to feel the the tip of his dick catching in your entrance before finally sliding in, stretching you deliciously. 

You want to fuck him so bad that it’s making you dizzy.

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” Charles asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Before you can answer him – which you don't really want to do anyway – your cell phone rings. The Monegasque reaches for it without hesitation, answers the call and puts the person on speakerphone. 

“Allo?”

“Hello, you two,“ Kika's voice sounds from your cell phone. ‘How are you? What are you doing?”

“We're testing my new bed,’ Charles replies with a grin, and you hide your face in the duvet. 

“You can't say that,” you say, reaching for your cell phone, but your roommate extends his arm so you can't get to it. 

“Why?“ Charles asks hypocritically. "It's true, isn't it?”

“Charles!”

Kika laughs loudly. "Should I call back in a minute? I don't want to disturb you guys doing whatever it is you're doing.”

“It's fine,” you call to her, although she would have understood you even if you had spoken normally. “What can I do for you?”

The Portuguese woman giggles. “I just wanted to ask what you would like to drink and what you are going to wear.”

You open your eyes wide. "Um, I have no idea. What do people wear in the clubs here?" You repeat the question you've already asked your roommate. 

“How about this?” She begins. "Pierre and I will come a little earlier and go through your closet together? The guys can play video games or something. And we'll get ready in peace and quiet."

You like her suggestion. ”That would be great.”

“Great. Pierre and I are going out for a quick shopping trip and want to buy some wine. You drink sweet, right? Then I'll bring you something.”

“Thanks!” you reply and with a big stretch you finally get to your phone in Charles's hand. "See you in a bit!" You hang up and put the phone back on the bedside table. When you turn to your friend, he's pouting. ”What's wrong?”

He turns on his back and crosses his arms over his chest, which is a little difficult considering your leg is still wrapped around his waist. “I was kind of hoping you'd cancel on them.”

A smile spreads across your face. You slide closer to him again and reach for his arms to separate them before you roll onto him. Your knees are next to his hips on the mattress and instinctively, his big hands find your ass. 

“I'm sorry, Charles,” you whisper, leaning down so that you are completely on top of him. Your elbows are next to his shoulders and your hands are finding their way into his hair again. ”We don't have to stay long.”

The Monegasque exhales. “As long as you promise me that we'll stay in bed tomorrow, that's okay with me.” When you purse your lips, he groans in annoyance and pushes his head back into the pillow. “Do I have to go to camp with Andrea tomorrow?”

You nod slightly. ”I'm afraid so.”

“That's terrible,” he complains, wrapping his arms around you. ”Then we won't see each other again until New Year's Eve! What will I do without you during that time?”

You don't want to think about spending the next few days without him, which is why you change the subject back to tonight. 

“How about this: Kika and Pierre are coming over soon and we'll party later with Lando and his DJ friend,” you begin your suggestion. 

Charles raises an eyebrow. ”I don't see any compromise I'm willing to make.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Just let me finish. So - we're all going out to party in a bit, and when we get back home we can make ourselves comfortable in bed here, watch another movie and not get out of bed until noon tomorrow.”

“Do we have to be dressed to watch the movie?” he asks mischievously, and as you move to roll away from him, he turns you both so that he is now on top of you. He grabs your thighs and puts your legs back around his waist, and as he nestles against you, almost crushing you under his weight – which feels better than you care to admit. You feel his boner between your legs. 

“Charles,“ you moan softly as his cock softly nudges against your clothed clit. 

“Do we have to be dressed?” he repeats his question and slides his hand under your sweater, his fingers spreading over your sides. 

You breathe in his scent and bask in his warmth. “We don't have to,” you reply without giving a thought to what it means for you. But you couldn't care less about that right now. 

Charles's lips breathe light kisses on your neck. “Then it's a deal,” he whispers before withdrawing completely – leaving you high and dry. “Come on. Our friends will be here soon. And I doubt you'll want to be in our bed then. No matter how comfortable it is,“ he grins and leaves the bedroom. But as he walks through the door, you can still see him put his hand in his sweatpants to fix his erection. 

Somehow you're glad you have the same effect on him as he does on you. 

Hot blood courses through your veins when you think about how the evening will end. You would love to pull Charles back into bed, rip his clothes off and let him ravish you until you can't walk anymore. 

That will have to wait. 

But anticipation is half the fun.

[normansnt]

Ace

(Alastor x male reader)

Explain to Alastor what Ace means

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

"(Y/N)?" Called out Alastor to you

"Yes?" You answered not looking up from what you were reading.

"Would you like to go, get some coffee with me, in, what your generation calls, a date?"

Now to this you looked up.

"What?" You answered very confused

"In a...romantic way?" He tried explaining it to you thinking thats the part you didn't understand.

"I mean...I would love to but you dont have to push yourself if it would make you feel uncomfortable" you answered while you put your book down slowly on the coffee table.

"Uncomfortable? Why would it make me uncomfortable we are close are we not?"

Now he got confused as well.

"Well because...your ace and/or aro?"

"What is with that word, Rosie said it as well and the meaning of it still avoids me" he answered starting to get annoyed by his lack of understanding.

"What- ohhhh what did you say when did you die?"

"1933, however its quite rude to ask someone that." He answered looking at you in a scolding way.

"I'm sorry but because you lived back than thats why you don't know that word, please sit let me explain"

He sat down on the couch in front of you.

"Ok, so when we say 'ace' we refer to someone who has little to no sexual attraction and aromantic or aro is someone who has little to no romantic attraction. Of course there is much more to this subject but this kind of sums it up."

Alastor just stared at you.

Him? Not being interested in romantic relationships or sex??

Thats...true. He never felt the need to sleep with anyone he was doing totally fine without it. Romance...was another category completely however, and he didn't know if it was something he was interested in it or not.

He asked you out in the first place because he felt very good in your presence. He felt comfortable and content. Was that not romance?

"Alastor?" He has been staring at you for a while and it was quite creepy.

"Listen I understand thats a lot of information to process especially if you just realized some things about yourself so I can leave if you like-"

"No" Answered Alastor a bit fast. He has made up his mind. He might not be interested in a sexual relationship however he really wanted to kiss you right now.

"It might be true that I have not known this so far in my life or death, and you did make me realize some things about myself, but even so my offer still stands."

"Oh? Are you sure because I only want to if it doesn't make you uncom-"

You couldn't get the rest of your sentence out due to a pair of lips on yours.

Alastor kissed you.

You were stunned for a second but after you realized what was happening you kissed back immediately.

His lips were surprisingly soft, not to mention he did pretty good looking at the fact that it was his first kiss.

"Trust me, dear, If something would make me uncomfortable I wouldn't do it." He said grinning and holding your chin after you two parted.

You were a blushing mess.

You've never thought about Alastor that way, since you thought he was aromantic. But now that you did, fucking god, you like him.

Whit that thought in mind you kissed him again.

This time you stood up and he put his hands on your waist while yours were on his neck.

It wasn't a heated kiss and it will never be very likely you didn't want to step over his boundaries.

"...So my dear, would you like to get that coffee now?" He asked smiling while offering you his arm.

"I would love to" you smiled back at him.

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

Guys I have a serious problem Im literally shitting words I have never written this many fanfics in one go🥹

BUT YK WHAT WORTH IT CUZ I LOVE EM

I literally love almost all characters in hazbin hotel so much I JUST CANNOT STOP💀

Thank you sm for the correction @whyarewehere103 😎🙏🧡

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies,gentleman and other, good afternoon good evening and good night🦖🧡

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part Two

For Xiantober Day Three: Conviction (of a sort)... in which the author temporarily forgets to focus on narrative agency or on Wei Wuxian, in favour of analysing relevant themes and characters that relate to Wei Wuxian. But he does get focus, and again, contextualising him is why i’m exploring these other things, so no harm done.

(Part One | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

It’s Not Just Optimism: Resentment and Self-Definition 

Before we discuss the narrative again, let’s take a break to discuss one of my other favourite aspects of Wei Wuxian. We’ve seen how the narrative treats tragedy, and we’ll soon explore how it reflects Wei Wuxian’s views on tragedy. But what actually are these views? 

Because the thing is – the narrative and plot can emphasise agency and choice all it likes, but focusing solely on that leaves out the character. And it’s Wei Wuxian’s character that deserves the credit for how he defines himself (…in-universe). If someone had gone through everything he had, who could blame them for being unable to keep going, unable to let go of resentment, unable to see anything that was still worth living for, to see any value in altruism?

(Also, I do have to emphasise this: you can have perfectly healthy coping mechanisms, but still get extremely traumatised. Everyone has a limit to what they can take, that limit differs, and that isn’t your fault. It just so happens that Wei Wuxian’s limit is extremely high (and even he reaches it when everything falls apart in such quick succession near the end of his first life!))

This isn’t something that’s ignored in MDZS. We see multiple characters who have gone through similar levels of suffering as Wei Wuxian, or even less suffering than him*, who do react in some of the ways mentioned above. Whether or not the narrative condemns them depends on if they hold onto resentment from their tragedies and use it to harm others – Xiao Xingchen and Qin Su, for example, aren’t condemned for their suicides (nor should they be, suicide/suicidal ideation isn’t anything anyone should be blamed for), because nobody was intentionally hurt as a result. But people like Xue Yang, who was treated cruelly and senselessly lost his finger, but went on to murder an entire clan as a result; or Jin Guangyao, who remembered the slights against him and his mother down to the exact wording of Jin Guangshan’s dismissal of her freedom, which may have justly hurt him but also unjustly lead him to both burn down a brothel and (separately) kill or imprison multiple innocent prostitutes; or Jiang Cheng, whose resentment for Wei Wuxian due to the latter’s actions lead him to harm many others after his death simply because they were similar**, are condemned.

Why mention this? Well, these different reactions show it isn’t just a quirk of the universe that people are more tolerant to pain – Wei Wuxian’s reactions are a deliberate choice on the part of MXTX, not a writing flaw stemming from misunderstanding the severity of trauma***. But more importantly, many of these characters deliberately foil Wei Wuxian, and so they can give us a good insight into what sets him apart from them (or rather, from the characters who aren’t completely broken by their pain, because that way we know it isn’t simply a difference in tolerance but rather one in attitude). And as I’ve discussed, this has to do with accepting events and letting them go, rather than holding onto resentment.

Part of this may come from differences in personality (though that’s never an excuse for hurting others) – but, though Jiang Yanli may claim Wei Wuxian was someone “born with a smiling look” (Chapter 24, EXR), there are two philosophies Wei Wuxian consciously holds onto that have to do with this attitude:

“Let the self judge the right and wrongs, let others decide whether to praise or blame, let gains and losses remain uncommented on.” Chapter 75, EXR translation

“Remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don't hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free.” Chapter 113, EXR translation 

And crucially, these ideas directly contrast the actions and mindsets of the antagonists above. All three focus on their ‘gains and losses’, with their suffering at the hands of others being a major motive to harm those others/those affiliated with those others (Xue Yang’s finger; the slights against Jin Guangyao and his mother due to the latter’s job; Wei Wuxian’s ‘betrayal’ and his role in Jiang Yanli’s death, as well as false blame on him for the deaths of Jiang Cheng’s parents, and Jiang Cheng’s inferiority complex). Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng are also very focused on their reputation, or in other words, on whether ‘others decide (…) to praise or blame’ them (according to Chapter 10 of the EXR translation, in what seems to be omniscient POV heading into Jiang Cheng’s, the latter ‘cared about maintaining his reputation above anything else’. Meanwhile, much of Jin Guangyao’s actions were taken to protect his reputation, including the brothel burning, as a part of the aim was to conceal which brothel he grew up in (Chapter 104)). 

Additionally, much of Jin Guangyao’s resentment stems from how others treat (‘blam[ing]’ him, insulting him), compared to how they treat others (‘prais[ing]’ them):

“But do you know what it was that made me lose hope completely? I’ll answer your first question now. It wasn’t that I’d never be worth a single hair on Jin ZiXuan or one of the holes in Jin ZiXun, it wasn’t that he took back Mo XuanYu, it wasn’t that he tried every possible way to make me a mere figurehead either. It was the truth he once told the maid beside me when he was out indulging himself again.” Chapter 105, EXR

Though the other points didn’t make him lose hope completely, the implication is that they did affect him too (as shown by how he speaks about them), with Jin Guangshan’s words about Meng Shi being the final straw. ‘Los[ing] hope’ here of course relates to holding onto resentment, as Jin Guangyao’s loss of hope is what led him to murder out of his hatred.

Finally, both Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng also hold resentment due to holding onto what they’ve done for others, or even onto who they themselves are, without being treated accordingly – and though it makes sense to be hurt by all these things and these reactions are valid, the pain from holding that in your heart and the danger from holding onto it is precisely why MDZS condemns it:

“Why is it that even if I face everyone with a smile, I might not even receive the lowest form of respect, while even though your father was extremely arrogant, people flocked to him? Could you tell me why we were born from the same person but your father could relax at home with the love of his life playing with his child, while I never even dared be alone for long with my wife, shivering out of fright at first glance of my son? And I was ordered to do such a thing by my father as if it was natural—to kill an extremely dangerous figure who could flip out and conjure up a bloody massacre with his corpses anytime! “Why is it that even though we were born on the same day, Jin GuangShan could host a grand banquet for one son, and watch with his own eyes how his subordinate kicked his other son down Koi Tower, from the first stair to the last!” Chapter 105, EXR

(He brings up his role in Wei Wuxian’s downfall due to this as well, in addition to creating any excuse he can to absolve himself of others’ blame – he’s being treated unjustly and hated for something he’s done, even though he was ordered to do that thing by his father and it made sense!)

Jiang Cheng, “Are you stupid? You only counted the time to return and not the time to go there? Let alone the fact that after I got there I had to lead people and search through the entire mountain for the old banyan tree, then dig open the hole that got blocked up by Wen Chao and his people, and rescue you within seven days. Where’s your gratitude?!” (…) He raised his voice, “You killed the Xuanwu of Slaughter together with Lan WangJi, bathing in blood! How great is that?! But what about me?!” He punched his fist into a pillar in the hall, clenching his teeth, “… I have also been running around for days, completely exhausted, with not one second of rest!” Chapter 56, EXR

(And, a bonus to show this being a part of Jiang Cheng’s mindset without stemming from being hurt by a specific event, even when he’s being encouraging:)

“So it seems that both of you killed it together. What’s yours is yours. Why would you give him all the credit?” Chapter 56, EXR

(This moment is a nice display of the contrast between Wei Wuxian’s and Jiang Cheng’s mindsets as well, with the former focusing on what Lan Wangji (‘others’) did for him instead of seeking credit for his role!)

To repeat – of course these feelings are understandable, and I’m not blaming them for feeling this way. What I am placing blame on is letting those feelings drive you to murder many innocent prostitutes, or to let this sense of a debt you’re owed (which is what the philosophy is actually warning away from, because if you hold onto what you do for others, the natural expectation is that they’re indebted to you and should do something for you as a result) turn into resentment towards someone for not acting the way you think they should, leading you to help murder them, even if your sister sacrificed herself specifically to save their life.

This is the danger of holding onto resentment. And are these actions not a choice? Would you, independent of MDZS, absolve someone of a crime because their ‘personality just leads them that way’?

The same is true for acting on these two philosophies, and letting resentment go. And it’s all the more impressive when someone has as much potential resentment to hold onto as Wei Wuxian does.

Of course, Wei Wuxian himself isn’t completely infallible – which further supports the idea that this isn’t just a natural, unalterable quirk, since we see him act contradictory to his usual self as well. But the narrative’s view of resentment in these moments doesn’t change. Importantly, the times he does let resentment drive what he’s doing, during the Sunshot Campaign and Nightless City (as well as him being quick to anger at Phoenix Mountain, etc), it isn’t presented as in the right**** — and though he still lets go of it quickly enough to protect a group related to the one that hurt him (people of the Wen sect, the cultivators who participated in the Siege), it doesn’t prevent the harm done during these times. Additionally, the times he metaphorically can’t control and reign in his resentment in the form of guidao – at Qiongqi Path and, again, at Nightless City – pain is caused to innocents (Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli). This is what his internal thoughts have to say when he comes across cultivators gossiping about him, shortly after Wen Qing and Wen Ning have sacrificed themselves:

No matter what he did, not a single good word would come out of these people’s mouths. When he won, others feared; when he lost, others rejoiced. Chapter 77, EXR

He’s hurt by other people praising and blaming him! Holding onto this philosophy isn’t automatic, that decision isn’t simply encoded within him somehow.

But that brings us to another relevant theme: that these characters aren’t infallible, because they’re not mythical creatures or concepts brought to life. Everyone is human.

However, although he thought that his heart was like a stone, in the end, he was still human, not some emotionless grass or plant. Chapter 8, EXR

OuYang ZiZhen, “HanGuang-Jun, why did Senior Wei collapse?” Lan WangJi, “Fatigue.” Lan JingYi was amazed, “I thought that Senior Wei would never get tired!” The other boys felt somewhat astonished as well. That the legendary YiLing Patriarch could collapse from fatigue from dealing with walking corpses—they all thought that the YiLing Patriarch should be able to settle them with just a snap of his fingers. However, Lan WangJi shook his head. He only said four words, “We are all human.” They were all human. How could a human be tireless? How could they stand forever? Chapter 84, EXR

Even with Wei Wuxian’s temperament, even with his attitude, he’s still human! Just as he’s not immune from being affected by harsh words to do with his past, just as he’s not immune from being affected by exhaustion, he’s not immune to being hurt by or angry at his circumstances. As we see in the Sunshot Campaign and at Nightless City, he’s not immune to dwelling on his misfortunes, to being driven by his hurt and anger and by resentment he holds onto (consciously! At Nightless City, Wei Wuxian deliberately accepts the curses thrown at him, because ‘anger was the only thing that could suppress the other feelings within his heart’ (Chapter 78)). 

But nearly always, he chooses not to. The Wen remnants he saved were innocent, yes, and Wen Ning and Wen Qing helped him previously – but in his second life, he could’ve easily kept holding onto his resentment and left the cultivators who besieged him, who killed him and those under his protection, to die at the Second Siege. But he didn’t! He held true to his own philosophy, to judge the right and wrongs yourself independent of what others do, and saved them.

Because this is what’s important to him, because this is how he wishes to act in the present, and because he doesn’t let himself be defined by the tragedies he went through.

The donkey seemed as if it knew that he wasn’t in a great mood [due to others bringing up what happened in his past], and for once, it wasn’t being loud out of impatience. A moment of silence passed, and it turned around to leave. Wei WuXian sat by the stream, not responding at all. It turned around to look, throwing its hooves onto the ground, but Wei WuXian still paid no attention to it. The donkey had to come back sulkily, biting and tugging on the corner of Wei WuXian’s collar. He could choose to go, and he could choose to not go. Seeing that the donkey had [gone] as far as to use his mouth, Wei WuXian decided to follow him.  Chapter 8, EXR*****

Immediately after this, he’ll continue investigating the puzzle of Dafan Mountain’s night hunt; he’ll come across a ghost, ask where it’s hurt and offer to take a look at it; he’ll rush off to save Jin Ling and the Lan juniors, figuring out the truth behind the dancing goddess and being the only one to do so. Just as it’s more important to the narrative, this – quick thinking, problem solving, compassion, doing the right thing, even seeking out excitement – is what Wei Wuxian finds more important about his own self, and what he chooses to focus on.

Some final questions to end things.

If you saw Wei Wuxian, without any knowledge of what happened in MDZS, without any work done by the narrative structure or by knowledge of tropes – would you have expected the backstory he had? Would you expect his parents to have died when he was at an age where he could barely remember them? Would you expect him to have lived on the streets until he was nine years old, or to have been taken into an unjust and extremely volatile household, or to have (chosen to) lose the source of powers he was very proud of – shortly before he was thrown, now powerless, into the equivalent of hell for three months? Would you expect his first life to have ended because protecting innocents (knowingly) led to the entire world crusading against him, because their siege resulted in him being torn apart? Or would you not think of tragedy when it comes to this person who gleefully jokes and teases, who’s so smart and competent and knows it, who doesn’t focus on the negatives, who acts so confidently on his morals, who revels in life so much?

If you only saw Wei Wuxian’s backstory with no context of his character, would you expect him to remain this way?

And, if you saw Wei Wuxian’s actions in the present day, without knowing what tragedies happened in his past, would he feel like an incomplete character?

It’s impossible to answer, of course – even in the present day, you get information about his past.

But I’m inclined to say no.

(Part One | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

—

*But again, let me emphasise – especially in real life, doing the trauma olympics is never good! As I said, everyone has limits, everyone’s limits differ, and just because one person can cope with something doesn’t mean another person can, even with the same mechanisms. And that shouldn’t lead to any judgement!

I say ‘especially in real life’ because in fiction, some characters’ experiences are often made similar or different to others’ in order to parallel or foil them  – in which case comparison is often the point. But trauma olympics (‘this person suffered x amount so the other person should be able to take it!!’) is still bad, guys (especially since, as with MDZS, those parallels or foils are often there to explore the harm they do to others as a result, not simply how much trauma they can take).

**My thoughts on rumours here. Tl;dr, if Jin Ling (someone who’d want to defend him!) is saying he did (and that he “never let anyone go” – Chapter 24), if sources like Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui act as if this is the case (Chapter 10 – to defend, you could say personal feelings play a role, but Lan Wangji especially is someone who knows not to, and explicitly doesn’t, make judgements without conclusive evidence. Again, see my thoughts on rumours) – and if Jiang Cheng backs up this behaviour (eg by telling Jin Ling to kill every demonic cultivator he sees and feed them to his dogs in his introduction – Chapter 7), it’s probably not a simple unbased rumour. There’s enough evidence to support its veracity.

***However, do note that Wei Wuxian isn’t an outlier, either – Lan Wangji, Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui (once he learns of his heritage) are all examples of other characters who aren’t overcome or twisted by their pain, instead still aiming to make the world a better place. And this is Jin Ling’s whole arc, too!

****I delve a lot more deeply into this here!

*****The role this moment plays isn’t actually something I caught myself – it came from a post about a reread of MDZS’ earlier chapters. I can’t find it myself, but if anybody has the link, that would be great (so I can cite it)!

—

Also, a shoutout to this incredible meta by @righteousinadversity – it’s what made me want to delve into this aspect two years ago! It’s still one of my favourite metas, and you enjoyed this, you’ll definitely enjoy that, too.

[zarla-s]

I updated the GT Ghost Template! Ghosts are little desktop doodads I post about too much, I made a video about what they are here. Anyway, my template/site is meant to help you make your own ghost! Here are the changes. They're mostly coding changes so I don't have any interesting pictures to show of them sadly, unless you want pictures of just... text.

Updated yaya.dll to Tc571-5, meaning you can use ": all" on stuff now, and subsequently used that to clean up some of the menus. Write-up on ": all" on the walkthrough site still to come.

OnFirstBoot no longer asks the user's name/pronouns, I left the code in so you can add it in yourself if you want but by default it's not there. This will hopefully simplify the whole process down for a new developer.

Setting pronouns and your birthday are commented out in the config menu by default, you can uncomment them and fill in the dialogue for each function as you want. This will also hopefully simplify things down. Added some cute ascii banners too to help indicate the sections in the file as a result. :3

Simplified OnBoot and OnClose a ton by making the various time/day checks optional. The code's still there, you just have uncomment it and add it back in where you want. But this should make OnBoot and OnClose much less intimidating.

Similarly cut down the time/day if checks in aitalk.dic, they're still there but there's only one of each as an example of how to do one.

Made the screen boundary check opt-in. If you want to turn that feature on you'll have to uncomment a few things. I've heard more complaints about that feature than enjoyment so I figured it's better to leave it off.

Made the extra time check dialogue optional. THEY WON'T ANNOUNCE THE TOP OF THE HOUR BY DEFAULT ANYMORE. IT'S THE END OF AN ERA.

Made adding titles to the user's name like Lady or Master optional, so you can comment it in if you want but it's not enabled by default.

Rewrote and reorganized some parts of etc.dic, mostly emphasizing that it's not super important in the big scheme of things so people won't get stuck filling it out as much. Hopefully.

I know ghost updates aren't as flashy as art and fic but I spent a few hours doing all this and that deserves a post too! Trying to break some mental habits...

[patreon]

[pharawee]

Gather around, fellow BL aficionados, it's time for part four of my Pit Babe novel commentary.

(And if you want to catch up, here are parts 1, 2 and 3.)

A word of warning: since I'm pretty far into the novel now (every post summarises five chapters) expect heavy spoilers, plot twists and revelations.

Oh, and omegaverse shenanigans. So many omegaverse shenanigans. You've been warned.

Also, a small warning for talk about and the aftermath of SA. As usual, please take care. 💜

Now, where were we? Oh, yeah: Way is the big bad enigma and he's been hypnotising Babe all this time - but gently (tm) because, you see, Way really, really loves Babe so that makes it all right...

Yeah, no. Get fucked, Way.

Currently, Way is still passed out on the floor, but as soon as Babe has come to terms with whatever the hell just happened, Charlie (who came to Babe's rescue just in time, remember?) offers to wake him up.

How? Oh, that's easy. He can put people to sleep at will. It's one of the many powers he absorbed from other powered alphas. That's his whole thing: he steals powers and just keeps them - like Rogue in X-Men but without any of the downsides. And as long as he's alive, the powers stay with him, never to return to their previous owner. Unless they die, in which case Charlie loses that particular power forever. Which in turn means that if Charlie dies... but keep that in mind for later.

Oh, and another one of Charlie's powers: changing his scent at will. Goddammit, Charlie.

As for how he knew that Babe was in danger? Jeff told him because he can see into the future. X-Men omegaverse, here we go.

But anyway, when Way wakes up he's confused because the last thing he remembers is SAing his supposed best friend. Now there's Charlie staring daggers at him, and one very angry Babe. Since Way is pathetic (but not the good kind) he attempts to explain: yes, he's actually Babe and Charlie's adoptive brother. Their father sent him to lure Babe back home and, well, get him pregnant. That was ten (10) years ago.

But, you see, Way is such a nice guy (tm), he didn't want to force Babe! Instead, he set out to ruin him for everyone else, thereby making it impossible for him to grow or heal or trust or love. Whenever Babe met someone he connected with, Way swooped in to poison his mind. And whenever Babe recoiled from that new connection, he turned to Way - the only person he could 100% trust. Or so he was made to believe.

So the Babe we meet at the beginning of the novel (and series) isn't really Babe at all. It's the version of Babe Way wants him to be - and for what? For ten years of pining and mindfuckery? What the hell kind of plan is this?

Oh yeah, the kind that gets you punched in the face. Thank you, Babe, you're really speaking my mind here.

And this is the part where the novel really shines because it doesn't just gloss over the implications of abuse. It doesn't leave Way's many empty apologies uncommented:

"I know what I did was unforgivable. I—" "Did you just realize this? Are you like this because I found out just in time?" Babe's voice boomed as anger flared in his heart. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn't. "When I'm unconscious, you can assume it's okay to do it, right?" "I didn't want to do it at all…" "I don't care!" Babe shouted. "The point is, I don't want it! And you have no right to do this to me!"

But when Way's attempts to nice-guy himself out of his predicament don't work, he tries to shift the blame onto Charlie. Because Charlie lied too and, after all, didn't Way warn Babe about him?

Yeahhh, he's still trying to manipulate Babe. Way isn't sorry at all, he's only sorry he's been caught. Or, as the novel aptly puts it:

For Way, this might be like a love confession. But for Babe, it was no different from admitting his crimes.

But the novel doesn't leave it at that.

"So what's next?" Babe asked in a calm voice. "Should I thank you?" "What…" "I asked if I should thank you because you didn't rape me?" [...] "Should I thank you for not forcing me to bear your child?" "Babe…" “Even for my life, my body, and everything about me, I still have to wait for your mercy?”

And that's that. Ten years of (false) friendship have been erased just like that.

Really, I'm sorry for adding so many quotes but this whole chapter is just perfect in its blunt directness. It excels in giving Babe back his autonomy - the very thing Way has taken from him.

We'll return to our regularly scheduled omegaverse shenanigans after this bit:

"Did you know that every time you said that [there was never anyone suitable for me], it made me feel like I didn't deserve anyone's love?" [...] "And it's as if the only love I can receive is love from you…" Babe's sobs were so loud that his voice trailed off, but he took a deep breath and continued talking: "…but you never asked me what I really want." [...] "You only care about your own desires. You want to have me. You want to have children. You tried to make me love you and then agree to have children with you. Even though you always knew that I never wanted to have children." "I know you don't want to have children. And I know why," Way replied with a look that seemed to understand. But Babe knew that he didn't understand anything, not at all. "But because I know. That's why I want to change your mind." "It's not your job to change me."

And then, when Way has the audacity to try and hug him, Babe throws him over his shoulder and slams him right onto the floor, and even Charlie is like, damn, guess for a moment there I forgot how amazing Pit Babe is.

Damn right he is!

Later that night, things are winding down and Charlie insists on staying with Babe - just to make sure he's all right. Because unlike some people (!) he actually knows when to give Babe some space, and so he settles down on the couch in the living room while Babe stays in his bedroom.

But, understandably, Babe can't sleep. There's too much on his mind, none of it particularly good. He misses Charlie and, really, he's in dire need of an emergency hug.

It's Babe who approaches Charlie (only of course Charlie knew all along because he has super hearing now and he heard Babe's tossing and turning. Goddammit Charlie). They reconcile and it's really sweet because, in stark contrast to Way, Charlie's apology is heartfelt and reassuring and full of compassion. He also knows that Babe has been through a lot, so when Babe engages in their usual ritual of make-up sex, Charlie is hesitant:

Babe is so strong that he can lift bigger people and throw them to the ground. But believe me, no one is mentally strong enough to not be hurt by dirty things like that.

I just love how clear and concise the novel is on this part.

Anyway, they talk it out and Babe says that he wants to try anyway. What follows is a really sweet sex scene (but don't worry, Babe's still getting railed by his daddy to his heart's content - some things just don't change). There's talk about wild horses. I don't know why and honestly I'd rather not dwell on it.

Meanwhile, Way is being chewed out by Khun Tony (aka everyone's least favourite adoptive father). He's quite a bit upset but, honestly, what did he expect? He's the one with the stupid plan in the first place. Why did he even agree to let Way pine into Babe's general direction FOR TEN YEARS until he maybe catches feelings? The dude can hypnotise people! Just order him to do his evil immoral job!

But anyway, it's too late now. Babe's powers are already gone so breeding him (whyyy...) is pointless. Tony has a new target now: Charlie.

To my immense relief even Way is like, ew.

But it matters little because daddy dearest has contigency plans in place (and where were these plans TEN YEARS AGO - worst evil alpha breeder ever!). He orders Way to leave X-Hunter and return home immediately - and who knows, once Charlie is out of the picture Babe might end up as leftovers for him. Okay then.

In happier news, Charlie wakes up the next day with Babe's hand on his, well, little Charlie. I'm not being a prude here, that's what Babe calls it. It's a whole conversation, followed by - you guessed it - more sex.

Something is different this time, however. Without hesitation, Babe tells Charlie that he loves him, and then he asks him to be his boyfriend - to which Charlie eventually agrees. More sex happens. Actually, all of this happened during a blowjob which is very on brand for Babe. Things get disgustingly cute when Babe realises that this is the first time they're ~making love~ as boyfriend and boyfriend. This leaves him incredibly shy. Thanks to Way's meddling, he never had a boyfriend, after all. This is his first time being in love, and it's exactly as adorable as it sounds. Only with more mindblowing sex.

This includes sex in Charlie's supercar after a training session right on the racetrack (again I ask, have you even seen the interior of a racecar? How? Where? And who's cleaning this up? The mechanics??) as Jeff and Alan watch from afar.

"Why don't the two of them get out of the car?", Jeff said quietly as he looked at Charlie's car which had been parked near the finish line for a while and he saw no signs of it coming down.

Oh, my sweet summer child.

But yes, I'm happy to report that Jeff and Alan are probably going to be a thing in the novel too. This Jeff isn't a mechanic though. He doesn't even study engineering but oceanography (because he likes the ocean even though he's never seen it - live your dreams, my dude!).

As they sit and bicker, Jeff is suddenly struck by what seems to be another vision of the future. Whatever it is, it can't be good because it makes Jeff cry. Uh-oh.

He asks Charlie to meet him at his condo, and Charlie immediately notices that something's wrong. Only this time it's not Babe he needs to worry about. It's all of them.

I'm worried too but mostly for my own sanity.

Remember when I first explained about Tony's evil breeding program? Ah, those were easier, more pleasant times. Because now Tony figures that if he can't get an enigma to impregnate Charlie, he'll just get Charlie to impregnate an omega (because apparently there's a 50% chance that the baby will be an alpha with special traits - why is this novel explaining Mendel's laws of omegaverse inheritance to me?) .

Jeff is an omega.

And this is what Jeff saw: if they don't act now, at some point in the future Tony will have Charlie and Jeff brought back "home" and use aphrodisiacs on them (one up for the trope counter!). Jeff will get pregnant and as soon as their baby is born Tony will dispose of both Jeff and Charlie. This will cause Babe to seek revenge and get killed in the process.

What did I just read?

The novel keeps this from us for a while, and just casually mentions that Charlie isn't overly worried. He even finds the time to be jealous when one of Babe's old acquaintances shows up to Charlie's next race. They argue. The race starts without them reconciling, so naturally that means Charlie has an accident during the race.

It's bad enough that he's transported to the ER. But as the whole team anxiously awaits any kind of news, Babe realises in dawning horror that his heightened senses are slowly returning to him. He can hear Charlie's slowing heartbeat and the doctors fighting to reanimate him.

He listens as Charlie is pronounced dead.

The novel then cuts to Charlie's funeral which is only attended by a handful of people, mostly members of Team X-Hunter. Babe does not cope well at all but at least he's got Alan and Jeff to take care of organisational things.

Speaking of Alan and Jeff. These two have grown quite a bit closer. Close enough that Jeff asks Alan to let him take a look at Charlie's crashed car. The police are already investigating but Jeff wants to see for himself. Hm.

Meanwhile, Babe is alone at his condo, going through several stages of grief all at once (really, it's heartbreaking but so is the length of this post so I'm trying to keep things short). He's interrupted during the bargaining stage by someone knocking at the door. It's Way and he's come to offer his help. Babe might be grieving but he's not stupid, and so they meet up at a coffee shop nearby.

Way all but confirms that Charlie's accident was Tony's doing. What he meant to do was incapacitate Charlie but unfortunately Charlie died. OOPS. What a brilliant plan, really.

Seems like even Way has had enough of Tony's evil schemes so he's banded together with another enigma in order to bring Tony down. Said enigma is actually Tony's eldest "son" who seems to have escaped from his control to do his own (financially very successful) thing and bide his time until Tony eventually slips up.

That enigma is none other than Pete.

That's right. Pete and Way have teamed up to bring down Tony, and they're asking Babe to help them. Babe tentatively agrees.

While this is going down, Jeff visits some random uncle's secluded house. He's greeted by none other than Charlie (now somewhat worse for wear but very much still alive) who's faked his own death with the help of a man named Reval. Charlie feels guilty for lying to Babe again but they can't involve him in this: once hypnotised, he's still under Way's influence (uh-oh...) and could risk all of their careful planning.

Their plan? Getting rid of Charlie's powers before Tony can get to them.

This is where Reval comes in. He also has powers: he can somehow disconnect an alpha (or omega or enigma, I suppose) from their powers - which is apparently a very difficult and time-consuming process (and would otherwise kill the alpha), especially with someone with as many powers as Charlie.

Why does Reval do this? Oh, he's Babe's real father who's been in hiding until now out of shame and guilt (and some memory loss). Surprise!

Also, very convenient. 🤡

[wutheringskies]

everyone is like: if wei wuxian told everyone he gave his core to Jiang Cheng, all of this wouldn't have happened!

me: if he told jiang cheng, it would be WORSE.

consider these points:

Jiang Cheng was a newly appointed sect leader, hell-bent on revenge, finally surpassing others. He would emotionally break if he finds out it's all because of Wei Wuxian's core. He wouldn't want to lose it; but Wei Wuxian holding that over his head will make it terrible for him; rage, tantrums; in that war-time would have literally robbed him of his senses.

This is a war. If some people find out Wei Wuxian doesn't have a core, what's stopping the enemy from finding out? Even so, there would be people who wish to kill the ever-powerful son of a servant. The hundreds-hole curse could only succeed because Jin Zixun had low cultivation. Think of how many enemies (Wens, and the others) Wei Wuxian had. They don't dare curse him because 1) they believe he has superior cultivation and 2) if he comes for revenge with his stygian tiger seal and chenqing, it simply wouldn't be worth it. So, high risk and low reward. but in actuality, if someone did curse him, without a core to cleanse him, it would be fatal!

As the "son of a servant" and "wielder of immense power," his place in the cultivation world was already unstable. If they find out he doesn't even have a core, he cannot stay in the cultivation world! If he leaves, then there's no protection guaranteed for him from those who wish to claim his power anyway!

Literally, the only ones who would genuinely care would be Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli. And what could they do? Lan Xichen would be sympathetic, but when has sympathy saved lives when there's no follow-up action? Nie Mingjue would commend his sacrifice, but will he save the Wens? Nope. Nobody would magically go like, "oh, let us help wei wuxian who doesn't have a core tragically."

Among the general public, would anyone look at it as anything other than a grand sacrifice for his superior? "Wei Wuxian is really loyal," and when he saves the Wens, it would go down the path of, "Can't believe he betrayed the Jiang Clan."

The only one who wished to know the why's and the how's and the reasoning behind it all was Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji, who would try his utter best; but Wei Wuxian himself was so powerful. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan were powerful. Wen Qing and Wen Ning were also powerful. All the righteous people had tragic ends - if Lan Wangji was allowed to know, he would push harder at Wei Ying. But will Wei Ying accept it? Will he feel a certain disregard of respect? A lack of trust from Lan Wangji because they dont have the fundamentals down?How can it magically make things alright, when their issues go deeper than Wei Wuxian being on an "unorthodox path"? So, who's to say, even if Lan Wangji realized it all, somehow forced himself into Wei Wuxian's space when Wei Wuxian did not want it with some OOC syndrome, but even then what can he do? In the end, rather than just one, both would die. The odds are bad when it's 1 vs 3000, but is it much better if it's 2 vs 3000?

Wei Wuxian's arrogance protected the secret that would've signed him out of the war, out of the cultivation world. The fear people had for him protected him. Even after his death, they only noticed the annihilation of minor clans because "oh no yllz is here to take revenge!" If he acted weak and approachable and sad, just how few would hold true empathy compared to all the many that would see an opportunity to strike? Whoever wields power, speaks out, and is from an unproveleged background yet sitting among the gentry is already an outcast.

The only way he wouldn't have died were if he were someone who bowed to servitude, if he kept quiet, if he counted his losses and gains like Jin Guangyao. Will this harm me? Yes. So I cannot do it.

That's not Wei Wuxian.

"Let gains and losses remain uncommented upon." If the whole world wishes to kill innocents to satiate their own hatred then the whole world is wrong, and he won't stand up for it - whether or not, he has a romantic relationship with Lan Wangji early, or if he's actual siblings with the Jiangs (like actually adopted.)

Whether he wields a sword or his flute or nothing at all; whether he's loved or hated, he is bound to be resented by those who are hypocrites. The loss of his golden core won't shake them with empathy, but mockery not just towards him, but towards Jiang Wanyin as well.

"Congratulations, Jiang Cheng, for killing the man who killed your entire family (false, but you know) and was unrighteous!"

"But isn't the Jiang Clan only alive because of Wei Wuxian's core?"

"Jiang Wanyin is such a loser; he took his servant's core."

That would be a fucking literal nightmare. That is why, Wei Wuxian doesn't say a word or whine or cry. He probably thought he could wait until Jiang clan is in a better spot and tell only Jiang Cheng, but by then, he'd already been caught up in the Wen's situation.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Early thoughts about that ending scene. That picture of texas beside the door ? And then it kinda looming between buck and eddie on the couch? Kinda crazy

Hey Nonnie I have so many thoughts but

My brain is just playing Eddie dancing on a loop and I haven’t been able to get anything done all day - I am not complaining though he can dance on a loop in my brain all he wants 😎😂

But yes the Texas looming between them in the background was pretty interesting - it was of course there all of last season - foreshadowing Chris leaving with Helena and Ramon and also Eddie’s own ‘lone star stat-us’ (sorry couldn’t resist the pun 🤣).

The fact they’ve kept it there is very likely as a reminder of where Chris is, but it can also be foreshadowing a uncomming trip to Texas for Eddie (and maybe Buck we’ll have to see on that front) either to bring Chris home or to confront his parents and to get Chris to talk to him properly to begin to resolve their issues.

I’m interested in the two pictures on the table below the Texas picture though - one - the rectangular one is of Chris and Eddie - and it’s from season 2 - I can make out Eddie’s s2 hair! The round blue one though I can’t make out enough to be sure but I’m currently flip flopping between it being Shannon or a baby picture of Chris.

My personal preference would be that it’s Shannon because putting her between buck and Eddie and with a bright blue background and in a round picture is really interesting. That blue is a buck blue. Circles are a symbol of unity and the cycle of life - birth life and death - and also rebirth. They are also symbolic of inner peace.

So if it is a picture of Shannon there are several layers to draw on - firstly the idea that Eddie will find inner peace when it comes to shannon - and by extension she too will be a peace. The cycle of life and the rebirth aspect is especially interesting - the idea that Eddie can be reborn after Shannon - find himself and make himself whole. And finally there is the more subtle play on the paralleling of buck and Shannon and the idea that unity is achieved through that buck Shannon parallel.

Of course if it’s Chris then we get much of the same symbolism only with a slant towards Eddie and Chris finding resolution inner peace and unity - and that buck will play a part in that in some form.

I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts as my brain returns to normal operations - but hopefully those thoughts are a good starter for 10!

[frostgears]

unused doll

"Hey, I got the file trace from the 100% playthru. Every asset the game ever loaded."

"Fuck yes. I'm so bad, Sierra, I can't get past the second to last chapter, you're a lifesaver. So we just run this against the archive manifests and…"

"Not too much, huh."

"Guess not. That's all the leftovers. A a bunch of sounds, voice codec compressed, a few textures, just one mesh."

"Bones with it?"

"Yep. Usual format, I think, looking at the headers; not the one from the beta. Must have been cut pretty late. Lemme search for the mesh name, maybe there's a… yep, there's character data too. All commented out."

"That whole character data file gets loaded every scene, either from cache or disk, so that's probably why we missed it. So I think we just need to uncomment it and add it back to the model viewer on the extras menu? Yeah."

"Repacking and restarting. One sec."

"Oh, there she is! Aww, she's kinda cute. I wonder why they cut her. Play her voice lines."

"This one is pleased to serve."

"You think she was one of the companion characters?"

"Or a summon."

"Start a screen recording, let's get this up before someone else does."

"Started."

"I'm your doll. Use me as you see fit."

"Companion, definitely."

"We do not bleed as you do, but we still serve the same cause."

"Her VA's really good. Hard to sell a line like that."

"Spin her around, let's get the full model."

"This one is… afraid, Guardian. It doesn't know what it did to deserve this."

"Wonder what that scene that's from."

"No idea. Is that the last voice line?"

"Dunno. Click it again."

"Please, Guardian. Please don't put me back in the box."

"Please, Guardian. Please don't put me back in the box."

"Please, Guardian. Please don't put me back in the box."

"Guess that's all of them… Dani?"

"Sorry. Having a moment. Look. This is going to sound weird."

"What is?"

"Leave the model viewer open a little longer."

"Why?"

"Just do it, Sierra." □

[apotodiplodocus]

YOU'RE MY IDOL! Ch.4

Bet you guys never thought you'd see the day when I update again haha, love you all 💗❤️

By the time Saturday rolls around, Gyutaro has drafted and deleted 18 texts trying to cancel the meet up. He's nervous to a sickening degree but can't bring himself to cancel because he'll get to look at you all day and talk to you, maybe convince you to keep talking to him afterwards. Part of him is worried your reputation will be damaged, but then he thinks about how excited you were for the rides and decides, who cares if others don't like you? He'll like you enough to make up for it.

In the morning, Ume bursts into his room disregarding that he's just in boxers and rifling through his closet. She ignores him yelling at her to get out and his questions. Throwing some clothes onto his legs.

"Wear these. They're your most presentable clothes." She gestures to the clothes on his lap. They're probably the least punk clothes he owns, a simple dark blue t-shirt and dark ripped jeans. He simply stares at her, clearly demanding an explanation.

"Yes, Ma'am." He drawls sarcastically and watches her saunter out of the room. She leaves his door open, so he stands and shuts it himself, muttering angrily to himself. He hops in the shower, washes himself once, then twice and debates a third time but recognises if he scrubs anymore, he may just take his skin off. He quickly towels off and dresses, but adds some jewellery and chains, feeling too naked without them. Ume scoffs when she once again attempts to burst down his door again.

“Really? Whatever, she must see something in you anyway, so I guess I’ll allow it.” She smirks at him and passes him a box. From the outside it looks like a chocolate box, too fancy for the pocket money he gives her. He raises his eyebrows at her in a silent question.

“What? You’re not the only one with light fingers, mind, I’m just less of a klepto. Oh, and I’m not going today, I’m sick.” She fakes a cough then sticks her tongue out at him. Gyutaro freezes.

“What the fuck Ume? I can’t go by myself that’s weird! She might think I’m trying to make it a date!” He complains, Ume just shrugs.

“That’s why you’re gonna tell her I’m sick. Oh! Don’t think for a second I’m doing this for free, I’m missing out on rollercoasters for this. You. Owe. Me.” She saunters away, bidding him goodbye. She slams her door and plays her music, a very loud way to say she’s done with him for now.

Gyutaro tucks away the box for now and gets his shoes on. When checking a nearby clock he sees that he’s managed to be ready an hour and a half early. He grunts in annoyance, being all dressed up with nowhere to go.

For about half an hour, he stress cleans the kitchen, until he hears a beep from his phone. He thinks nothing of it and finishes scrubbing the sink, eventually getting to his phone 10 minutes later when he sees he got text messages from you and his heart drops to his feet.

8:27

Hey Gyutaro! So, funny story, I got a bit excited and I’m waiting outside :)

8:32

Gyutaro? You there?

8:35

Pleeeease don’t tell me you’ve overslept?

8:37

: ((

8:38

Shit! Coming now.

Gyutaro quickly grabs his things, including the box and rushes out the door, just about remembering to lock it. When he turns the corner from his apartment complex and spots you again for the first time, Gyutaro can’t tell if his heart has stopped beating or is beating too fast to feel it. His step falters when you spot him and smile that radiant smile, the one he regularly stares at in your photocard and he must catch himself. You call him over and Gyutaro struggles to keep his eyes on yours, rather than your outfit which somehow makes you seem even more attractive to him. He’s sure his face is tinged pink but fights it back to not appear like a creep.

“Hi, Gyutaro! I’m so excited for the amusement park… Wait, where’s Ume?” You look behind him and around.

“Oh, she’s um… She’s sick, she only told me this morning, sorry. We can cancel if you want, I know it might be uncomfortable to walk around with a weird guy.” He nonchalantly puts himself down and is just waiting for your agreement to turn and walk back to the house to wallow.

“Oh! No! I still want to go; I’d love to spend the day with you.” You realise what you’ve said after it’s already out there and Gyutaro sees you turn red before you can turn away and fights against becoming hopeful. He pays special attention to you when you tuck your hair behind your ear, noticing the nice nail polish and the couple of rings on your fingers. Gyutaro purses his lips and breathes in and out to calm himself down, unclenching his fists and all. When you turn back around you usher him to start walking down the street, but he stops you before you get too far.

“Why walk?” He grins and turns toward a car park underneath the apartment complex. Perplexed, you follow him, dusting imaginary lint off your clothes quickly, the last thing you wanted was to look messy in front of the man who possibly saved your life. It’s during this relatively short walk that you decide to try and let go of that thought. You could be grateful of course! You would forever be so thankful he came along but if you did ever pursue him, you didn’t want there to be an awkward power dynamic of saviour and damsel. You just wanted it to be you and him.

The silence of you coming to the realisation you’ve subconsciously been wanting a long term with Gyutaro has him concerned. Are you always this quiet? Is he intimidating you? He’s been told he has a scary mug before, was that something he should be concerned about? His thoughts start to spiral when his mind settles on one stubborn idea. Who gives a shit? He knows not to expect anything, he’s told himself this for years, why was it suddenly an issue now? (He knows full well why but doesn’t want to admit it). He huffs to himself in frustration.

“Are you OK?” You ask tentatively, following close.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He replies trying to play it cool.

“Are you sure? If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to… I want to go, especially with you but I’m not going to drag you along! If you want, we can just reschedule to when Ume isn’t sick, I won’t be mad, I promise.” You ramble on and all Gyutaro can focus on is the way your hair and eyes shine, even in the horrific lighting of the car park.

“No! It’s not that. Just have a lot on my mind. But it doesn’t matter, come on, get on.” You smile in relief and for the first time notice he’s referring to a motorbike. It’s clean, a little old but it looks thrilling all the same.

“Oh wow! Is that yours?” You exclaim, absentmindedly taking the helmet he offers you. Gyutaro smirks at your interest in his bike.

“Yeah, has been for about a year. Piece of crap, but its mine.” He grins, gently kicking the bike and affixing his own helmet.

“I have always wanted to try riding!” Gyutaro makes an effort to ignore that remark, clearing his throat. He gets on first and holds the bike steady for you to climb on behind him, when he has yet another realisation, the front of you will be pressed against him for a whole ten to fifteen minutes. He brushes off the feeling of his heart dropping to his feet as best he can and diverts the nervous energy into revving the bike and setting off.

During the ride, you chatter away talking about the last time you went to a theme park, what you had for dinner, how excited you’ve been. It calms Gyutaro’s nerves that you don’t seem to feel awkward, listening to you with an interest usually only reserved for Ume. At some point Gyutaro forgets your holding onto his waist, feeling somewhat calm and just focusing on the drive, and it would have stayed this way if you hadn’t started rubbing your thumbs up and down absent mindedly. Each movement has him suppressing the urge to shiver, gritting his teeth in a way you would hear if his bike didn’t drown out the noise. But you just keep talking, seeming to not even notice the effect a simple gesture has on him.

By the time you arrive, a little later than you expected from sudden traffic, Gyutaro’s nerves are shot again. He’s pushing down the vomit inducing nerves of the not-date while you are practically skipping to the front desk. He shoves his hand deep into his pocket and follows after you quietly, watching you get in line. When he catches up you turn to him again and start chatting once again and he makes an effort to talk back this time. You talk about how you hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out with a friend in a long time and he blanches at that, noticing the implication that you think of him as a friend. Before he even has a chance to question why you, who had only talked to him three times prior and only met because you were getting assaulted, your attention is taken. You overhear the mother ahead of you in line who starts panicking because one of her pre-bought tickets has vanished. The woman looks on the verge of tears and Gyutaro just sniffs, there’s nothing he can do about it. It’s unfortunate for sure but she should have been more prepared, it was her fault. You catch him off guard again when you happily offer you the third ticket that had been for Ume to the woman, who sniffles a little bit and thanks you, multiple times and gently holds her child’s hand. You just smile and watch them walk away, waving back.

“You didn’t have to do that; she should have taken more care with her things.” Gyutaro comments dismissively. You shrug in response.

“Yeah, it’s always good to take care of your things but I had a spare ticket anyway, and it wouldn’t have served me any purpose to keep it. It expires today anyway.” You pause for a minute, “I suppose I could have used it for a souvenir, but I can just buy something while I’m here.” Gyutaro doesn’t know which part of what you said to focus on. The genuine kindness of handing over the ticket when you had something planned for it, what you were planning to keep it for or the fact you want a keepsake to begin with. You don’t say anything more as it’s your turn and Gyutaro just watches you hand the tickets over to the disinterested employee. You’re let through the gates, and you rush in straight to a map and start pointing out the rides you want to go on babbling excitedly. Gyutaro but can’t help but watch you with an amused smirk. He does notice some eyes on you though, possibly recognising you, possibly admiring the way you looked. After quickly reviewing the map and while you are still rambling about how excited you are, Gyutaro puts his hand on your head and steers you in the direction of the first ride you want to go on. When you question him, a little pink on your cheeks, he tells you where you are going.

“How do you know? Don’t tell me you’ve actually been here before, it just opened!” You look surprised and a bit crestfallen, like you’re sad you didn’t get to take him first.

“No. Just looked at the map.” He smirks.

“You figured it out so quickly? You looked for a second!” You gape at him, miming a head explosion gesture. He lets out a low whiny chuckle.

“Like it’s hard?” You laugh back, still all pretty and pink.

The ride has a relatively small line and you both step into, and you’re asking him questions, he answers some but raises an eyebrow at most like they’re a bit too personal to know.

“So, do you usually go to that pub? The one where we met, I mean.” You smile up at him in an innocent way.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess.” He confirms quickly, he does not need you to know he has been keeping track of your groups movements since he saw you for the first time

“I’m so glad you were there that night; you probably saved my life.” You start rambling about how you felt that night, keeping your voice low, just for him to hear. “And seeing you beat up that guy? I’m not a violent person but that was wonderful. You looked so-“ You stop, eyes wide and red starting to take over your face. Gyutaro doesn’t know how you were going to end that sentence and he’s kind of glad you stopped yourself, but he can’t bring himself to believe you’d say anything cruel to him, his favourite idol isn’t like that. That said he still feels a bittersweet tinge thinking you didn’t need to say anything for him to understand, completely missing your body-language that to everyone else looked love sick. You cough into your fist

“Um, anyway, how sick is Ume?” You ask trying to change the topic.

“Sick? Oh! Right, uh she’s not bad, she just gets really whiny and doesn’t want to do anything when she’s sick.” You smile.

“I get like that too sometimes, what about you? I see you being the kind of guy to just push through.” You’re right, the last time Gyutaro was sick, he just put a mask on and carried on like usual. He didn’t have the time to waste on resting while he was sick.

“Yeah. Someone’s gotta earn money, don’t have the luxury.” He sniffs dismissively, looking straight ahead.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I mean, if you don’t have the money to unwind, I wouldn’t mind treating you and Ume sometimes. I have plenty of savings, and I don’t spend much unless I need to. If it wasn’t for you two, I doubt I’d be here, so I’d be happy to spend it all on you.” Why do you have to keep making him so conflicted, he’s angry at the thought of pity or charity, but when you put it the way you have, you owe them, and it would mean more time with you. Before he can respond, you continue. “It’s funny, I wasn’t going to bring it up because I assumed you wouldn’t be interested but my managers been begging me to ask you about joining us as a security thing. Like a guard, I guess. He’d sort out all the course expenses and stuff, it would be zero cost to you, and I’d say he’s offering probably more than you get now. Though I don’t know what you’re doing now.” You smile up at him. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll think about it. Give me your managers number and I’ll negotiate with him, I’m quite high demand at my workplace so it might be a bit difficult to poach me.” He grins lopsidedly. He’s lying of course, he’s one of the more important muscle, but he’d rip a moose in half if it meant he had the opportunity to be near you every chance he could get. That said, Muzan might have something to say but he figures he can deal with that when it comes to it.

The line ends abruptly, and you rush to sit down on the log flume like ride. You’re handed a poncho by Gyutaro, you could have sworn he was empty handed a moment ago (he definitely stole it while you weren’t looking). The ride goes as you expect a log flume to go, there are a few times when you leave the seat, with only a handlebar to hold on to its expected. You screech each time which makes Gyutaro cackle uncontrollably each time. After the ride you are in a fit of giggles, removing your poncho, very glad Gyutaro had the foresight to grab them.

“I really thought I was going to fly off at the end.” You manage to get out. Gyutaro cackles again.

“I know you screamed so loud.” He pokes you as if trying to get another scream from you. You grin at him and notice as he quickly brings his hand back and tucks it into his pocket. He can’t believe he just touched you out of nowhere.

The day continues like this having fun together until you get him to stop at the gift shop. While scanning through the shop you spot some comfortable looking jumpers and head straight to them. You flick through the rack and stop at the ones marketing the ride you went on first.

“Gyutaro! Let’s get matching hoodies!” You are clearly excited, but Gyutaro doesn’t understand why you feel like you want matching anything with someone you probably aren’t going to see again.

“Why? It’s not like we are a couple or something.” Gyutaro says this before he can stop himself and instantly regrets it. You deflate a bit and look almost hurt.

“Well, yeah but I was hoping we could be friends at least…” You reply looking back at the hoodies on the rack. Gyutaro really doesn’t know how to respond he isn’t the kind of guy to immediately double back just because someone’s sad, but he really wishes he was right now.

“But why? Because I helped you one time?” Gyutaro wishes the ground would swallow him whole, it’s like he’s watching someone else in his body interrogating you. You give him a look he wishes he could instantly forget, a mix of sad and angry.

“You didn’t just help me, you saved me. That means something to me, and something tells me you don’t usually do that kind of thing, is it so wrong to think we could be friends?” He is stunned of course, why didn’t he know his bias was HOT when she was angry.

“But-“

“No! Stop, we are going to have fun, I am getting us matching hoodies and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” You stick your tongue out as if you weren’t actually mad, quickly shoving a hoodie against him to check his size before going straight to the counter to pay. Gyutaro is stood frozen at everything that just happened. When you approach him again you hand him his (he absentmindedly takes it) and scoff.

“Now, where are going to wear them and be friends.” You throw yours on and Gyutaro is one step away from shaking. He can’t tell if its excitement, dread or something he can’t quite put into words. He does as you say and you grin, pleased at his obedience.

“Good, come on there’s still so much I want to do.” You grab him by the arm and drag him out.

Throughout the day Gyutaro gets more and more comfortable making more jokes (still at others expense) which to his delight makes you laugh, and not a pity laugh either, he can tell at this point. You stop to get slushes, he gets a green apple and blue raspberry, while you try to get a bit of each flavour and have another laughing fit when you both realise the flavours have tinted your teeth. He starts to forget all his worries just focused on you and that smile he’ll never forget, one that he doesn’t have on a photo card because it’s real and in front of him – BECAUSE of him. That is until a child bumps into his leg and bounces of like he was a brick wall. He turns kind of irked and that’s all it takes for the kid to burst into tears. Gyutaro is surprised and doesn’t know what to do, he wants to look good in front of you, but he’s never had to comfort a child that wasn’t his sister and she never cried because of his face. It’s a bitter reminder especially as the kids’ mother comes marching up and jabbing a finger in his face claiming he stepped into her child’s way on purpose, calling him every name under the sun.

He's annoyed but used to this, looking at her boredly and holding his hands up in a half assed gesture. That is until you slap the woman’s hand away. You woman is startled and before she can start ranting about you to you dig into her.

“How dare you! Do you have no shame? What mother lets her child run around freely in a place like this? Just because its an amusement park doesn’t mean its safe! Do you not have a clue how many open areas he could get lost, kidnapped or hurt in or do you just not care? And then you want to blame MY friend for your lacklustre parenting? Get a grip, you should have comforted your child not scared him more by yelling at a stranger who did nothing wrong!” Gyutaro can see the kid clutching the bottom of your hoodie staring at his mother with tears in his eyes. The woman’s face is red, and she seems to be grasping at straws for any come backs.

“But- but look at him! He obviously looks like a menace! The chains? The dark clothes? He looks evil!” Gyutaro is obviously.

“Oi, hag, don-“ He starts, but you are more aggressive now getting in her face.

“Oh? You want to talk about looks? Get out of my sight before I call security, I can assure you they won’t get here before I’ve had a chance to destroy your self-esteem.” You gently guide the child to her while you say this, who stuffs his face into his mother’s pant leg. The woman huffs and storms off after picking up her son.

You are also huffing and puffing, trying to calm down from the adrenaline rush that was, and you start to worry if that would affect your image as an idol but happily enough the people who did hear everything were clearly trying to not get involved and it wasn’t as if you had said anything wrong. Gyutaro grabs your arm and drags you through some bushes behind a small shack nearby. In the cover of the shrubbery, he starts rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“What would you have done if someone filmed that? It could have ruined your career!” He doesn’t know why he’s scolding you when he’s never felt so attracted to someone before.

“I didn’t say anything incorrect! I know I was right and she was such a bitch!-“ Gyutaro balks at that, he hadn’t heard you swear before and it brings him a weird joy, “I wasn’t just going to sit there and let her insult you! Especially when I don’t agree with her at all. Who cares what clothes you wear? I was expecting a more punk look and she thought this was ‘evil’? You look hot regardless of what you wear! Ugh, people like that don’t have the right to talk about others.” Gyutaro has never been shocked into silence so much in his life. Hot? It’s as if you’re both processing what you said at the same time both turning red and looking into each other’s wide eyes.

You purse your lips and figure this is as good a time as any and tug him down by the front of his shirt and kissing him.

[kutner-elegist]

yooo i would love a cuddley fic involving Forced Bonding, like at a medical conference or a (mind) game set up by house or getting stuck in an elevator :3 if possible, post 5x05 because of the whole "cuddy almost drug-testing thirteen" thing, meaning thirteen is even more of a deer in headlights around cuddy than usual bc she knows she's on thin ice. i would love to see how cuddy handles someone who's so defiant but also skittish about authority ^^

I hope you like it :P

“You will receive a formal letter. I just wanted to let you know. I need to go now.”

“Thank you so—”

The monotone beep signaled the end of the call. No one hardly ever hung up like that on Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the dean of medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. She was too elated to care. She was officially approved for adoption. She knew not to be too excited just yet. This only meant that her name was appended to the list of eligible parent hopefuls. When she would actually have a child to adopt was anyone’s guess. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but daydream. She pictured a baby with big eyes and chubby cheeks.

Her instinct, of course, was to make a plan, lists and all. It had already been developing in the back of her mind, despite her conscious resistance. Now that the prospect of motherhood was closer than ever, she finally allowed herself to put her pen on her legal pad. Car seat, crib, stroller, ….

“Dr. Cuddy?”

Her head jerked upward. Standing before her was Thirteen. Her angular face was more pallid than usual, making the redness around her eyes more conspicuous.

“I knocked, but …. If you’re busy, I can come back.”

“I’m not busy.” Cuddy pushed the legal pad aside and straightened her posture. “Can I help you?”

“House fired me anyway, so I just wanted to come by and apologize for earlier and thank you for everything else.”

“What? After that diatribe he gave me?”

“I guess he did that so he could fire me himself.” Thirteen’s voice cracked a little.

Cuddy’s eyes and lips had been startled wide open. Now they formed a faint but soft smile. “Why don’t you take a seat? We should discuss your severance benefits and other details of your departure.”

Thirteen sat down as she was told. She shifted in the chair, rubbing on the nightclub stamp with her thumb.

“You’ll receive two weeks’ pay, and you can keep your health insurance for four more weeks.”

“Thank you. That is more—”

“The hospital is under a security lockdown. All persons should stay where they are. Do not leave your position. The staff should await further instructions. The hospital is under a security lockdown. All persons should stay where they are. Do not leave your position. The staff should await further instructions.”

“What is going—” Cuddy was already reaching for the phone when it rang. The security team was calling.

“Dr. Cuddy, we have both code yellow and code gray. The police have been notified. Sorry for not calling you sooner. We had to respond to the situation first.”

David Ackerman, the chief of security, was an experienced, confident man. His calm tone eased Cuddy’s shock, but only a little. “What’s the situation?” she asked.

“A patient with a history of violence escaped the psychiatric wing after a physical altercation. The police told us to secure the premises and begin a search. We’re on it. I’ll call again if there’s any update. In the meantime, I suggest you lock your office.”

“Is that all? Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll let you know if there is. Sit tight for now. I need to oversee the search.”

“Of course. Thank you, David.” She put down the receiver. She went and locked the door. She pulled the chair next to the one Thirteen was in to further secure the entrance for good measure. “There’s a … situation. It looks like we have to stay here for now,” she said as she returned to her seat.

Thirteen just nodded. The muffled noise from the other side of the door, the clinic patients asking why they can’t leave, the security personnel moving around, all only accentuated the uncomfortable silence inside the room. Cuddy stared at the phone, then she glanced over at Thirteen, and then back to the phone.

Cuddy tried not to panic because Thirteen was with her. If Thirteen was worried at all, she was hiding it very well. Even when the emergency announcement came on, she barely reacted other than stopping mid-sentence. She hasn’t even asked what was happening. Not that she could have told her now that she doesn’t work at the hospital anymore, but anyone else would have had questions.

Thirteen had always been an enigma. House never hired well-adjusted people, and well-adjusted people would never stay working for House, so anyone in his department was inevitably maladjusted, she knew that much. If anything, Thirteen caused the least problems until now.

She didn’t want Thirteen fired. She didn’t think House would fire Thirteen, either. She could have just told her to go home, but she made a point to bring in House and demand a drug test with the threat of suspension. She wasn’t cognizant of this before, but now she realized that she used Thirteen to reprimand House by proxy. That’s probably why House fired her. Now she felt a little guilty. It was always this way. She would play these games with House even though she would never beat House, and when she invariably lost, there were collateral damages she hadn’t even anticipated.

“Dr. Hadley,” Cuddy finally spoke. “I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson, so I can pretend this never happened if a prospective employer asks. You shouldn’t do drugs, but I also know that with any other boss, you could have just called in sick or taken a day off and nothing would have happened.”

“Thank you, and again, I’m sorry.” Thirteen smiled.

The phone rang again, and Cuddy snatched the receiver, thinking it was about the missing patient. “Hello?”

“Dr. Cuddy, this is Aaron White from DCF again. I know you just got approved and this is a little sudden, but there’s someone looking for an adoptive parent, and she’d like to meet with you.”

“Already? That is great!”

“Would you be available next Tuesday morning?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Wonderful. I will tell her and then get back to you.”

“Thank you so much.”

The social worker hung up on her again. Cuddy was overjoyed. She almost giggled putting down the receiver.

“Is the situation over?”

And Cuddy was pulled back into her current reality. “No, it’s something personal.”

“Oh, I see. It must be good news.”

“It is.” Cuddy almost left it at that, and Thirteen would have let her. Instead, she said, “I just got approved by the Department of Children and Families to be an adoptive parent.”

Thirteen’s smile got brighter. “Wow! Congratulations. You would be an amazing parent.”

“Thank you. I hope so.”

Thirteen was now the first person she told. Not her own mother or her sister. In fact, the thought of her mother finding out brought her dread. She didn’t tell her she applied, because she didn’t want her harsh judgement, especially if she was rejected. Now anxiety clouded over her joy.

“I’m also nervous,” she confessed.

“I think every parent is.”

“But it’s different. I’m single, I work a lot, I don’t even know what a good mother is supposed to be like.”

“You’ll figure it out, and the lucky kid will have a brilliant role model.”

Thirteen’s smile made her chest tighten. Not in a stressful way. It felt like a firm hug around her heart. “That means a lot.” She met Thirteen’s piercing eyes, and her gaze communicated so much more than anything words ever could. She didn’t quite comprehend it in a way she could explain, but she experienced the exchange. The conflicted existence of a wounded daughter. Cuddy considered whether she should ask, and if so, how.

“Code clear. Code clear.” The echoes of the PA system resounded over their heads.

The security department called again. “The patient has been located. He is unharmed, and so is everyone else. He is being transported back to his ward,” Ackerman reported over the phone.

“Thank you for your great work.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Cuddy took away the chair blocking the entrance and unlocked the door. Thirteen got up, ready to make her exit.

“I wish you the best, Dr. Hadley.”

“I wish you the best, Dr. Cuddy. And for little Cuddy, too.”

They exchanged smiles. Thirteen took off, and Cuddy stayed in the doorway. When Thirteen turned a corner, she leaned to her side so she could keep looking. When Thirteen disappeared from her sight, Cuddy headed to the elevator. Serendipitously, House emerged from behind the steel doors.

“You will ask Thirteen to come back,” she demanded, blocking the way out of the elevator with her arm.

“I will. Not now, though. Later.”

She looked up in disbelief. That was way too easy.

“What, you thought I was actually going to fire her?”

“She thought she was actually fired.”

“I lie a lot.” House pushed away her arm with his cane and left.

Cuddy let out an exasperated sigh. She got in the elevator so she could go speak to the head psychiatrist.

[gabessquishytum]

A/B/O warprize au!

Dream and his siblings have recently taken over their parents’ kingdom in a much needed coup. They’ve split up all their territories and it’s going pretty well honestly.

Except Dream is kind of being his usual sulky self and now that the coup is over he is at loose ends (re: chucking bread crumbs at pigeons).

Luckily Death knows just how to help. She gifts him a piece of the spoils, one of the prizes that used to serve their father. Like all of Time’s servants, he has immortality so that he doesn’t age, all in the name of better service of course.

Omega Hob is pretty frustrated by the whole situation. He had no particular loyalty to Time, but he’d been on the verge of escaping Death’s castle. Hob was looking forward to exploring the big wide world, thanks. Stupid Death, ruining his escape plans.

Death is certain that Hob will be a good influence on Dream. She’s seen him giving food to a pregnant omega being held in the same area, so she knows he has a kind heart. Plus, she has a feeling they’ll be compatible.

So there Hob is, wrapped up in a bow (and some more sturdy cuffs) and given to Death’s sulky brother. At first, Dream doesn’t seem all that interested in Hob. He outright says he has no use for a mate or a plaything. (Which. Rude. Not that Hob wanted him either.) They talk some, but Hob’s talk of playing cards and chimneys only makes Dream’s lip curl. Sometimes Dream gives him books, which Hob takes to mean that Dream finds his uneducated manner off putting. He gives him perfumes and soaps too, because apparently hob’s natural scent is too common for his princely nose. Fine then. Hob can escape here just as easily.

Hob sets about planning his escape while Dream sets about ignoring him despite Hob living in his personal quarters. Only then, Dream’s rut hits. Stiffly, awkwardly, he asks Hob to service him. Hob can tell Dream is just barely holding himself together. He is a vision with glittering eyes and a very pleasing bulge in his trousers.

“No,” Hob says.

The prince looks surprised. “But it is what you are for. Isn’t that why you were given to me?”

“Yeah well, you’ve been nothing but rude to me,” Hob reasons. “So no, I don’t fancy it.”

Dream stares, open mouthed, breathing in lungfuls of Hob’s scent. It is empirically ridiculous for Hob to turn him down. He belongs to Dream. Hob waits to see if he will fly into a rage. He’s not sure he could take down an alpha in rut if he chose to force the issue but somehow Hob doesn’t think he will.

Sure enough: “Fine.” Dream does his best to collect himself. “Kindly remove yourself then.”

So Hob does. In fact, now seems like a great time to escape. Hob makes it two days before the guards catch him and bring him right back to Dream. Dream glares balefully at him from the bed, still flushed, the air still stinking of rut. “It’s not enough that you won’t fulfill your purpose, you also must humiliate me?” He grumbles. “The whole kingdom now knows my omega despises me.”

Hob stares at him. “I’m not yours.” (Technically he is.) “you don’t give me the time of day. You don’t even want me. I thought you’d be glad to have me out of your hands.”

“It is not proper that you should leave me,” Dream says, imperious even with his sanity hanging by a thread. “It makes me look—“ he cuts off.

“You should have just let me go. Got yourself an omega you like,” Hob reasoned. “Damn what’s proper.”

Dream stares at him. He’s so gloomy. He would be gorgeous if he weren’t such a prick. “I never said I do not …” he swallowed. “I never said I do not like you.”

“You clearly don’t. You scoff when I speak and you only want me because you’re in rut,” Hob replied.

Dream frowned at the blankets. “That is not…I realize I am not…it does not matter,” he finally says. “You are mine. Regardless.”

“Forgive me if I’d like to be liked,” hob says.

Dream eyes him again. “You are not … uncomely.”

“Gods wounds!” Hob laughs derisively. “Is that the best you can do? You think that’ll get me into bed?”

Dream just keeps staring. “Perhaps the issue is that you do not love me.”

Wait a minute, when did they start talking about love?

“I realize I am not….” Dream grumbles. And that seems to be the end of it.

(Because Dream is inwardly realizing yet again that he was terribly rude to Hob when he first arrived. And clearly awkward enough that Hob has not noticed that Dream doesn’t hate him. In fact Dream has started to like having him around…

Ohohoho yes this is very far up my alley. Hell yeah.

Hob goes from "whatever, fuck you, I don't care." About Dream’s attitude to him, to actively trying to please the king. Trying out those soaps and perfumes, dressing like the omegas around Dream’s court. Trying to be elegant and developing all the right opinions about music and art. But Dream still doesn't pay him a single iota of attention. So Hob goes right back to being himself. If he's going to be ignored he might as well dress how he likes and do as he pleases.

It's fair to say that he's developed quite a bone to pick with Dream. By the time the rut comes around Hob has had enough of feeling like shit. There's no way he's jumping on the alpha's cock just because he's been ordered to. Dream will have to pin him down and force him, if that's what he wants. (And Hob has grown to know Dream well enough to know that for all his faults, he would never do such a thing.)

So they sit together in almost silence as Dream endures his rut. He refuses to even touch himself. He just grits his teeth, sweats, and occasionally growls helplessly. And Hob? Fuck, he has to sit on his hands to stop himself from leaping onto the bed and helping Dream. He refuses to give in but it's almost torture to watch him suffer. So, he does the next best thing. He talks.

About how he's felt being passed around the Endless family like a toy. How he wanted to escape so badly. How he held out a little bit of hope that Dream would be good to him. How he's gone through his heats hoping that Dream would come and comfort him. With every word Dream seems to sink more and more into self hatred.

"I thought I would hurt you. I thought that you would reject my attentions. And I thought... that you were just another omega who would soon pass out of my life." Dream whispers. "I treated you badly. I beg your forgiveness."

Hob finally crawls up onto the big bed and wiggles up against Dream’s body. Just pressing against him and sharing the space. "I'm not letting you knot me just because you said sorry." He grumbles. "I could never despise you, but it will take something to make me love you. You can't keep giving me nothing."

It's not easy to fall asleep mid-rut but Dream does doze off eventually. His omega has given him a lot to think about, particularly the fact that Hob is his omega. And he'd better start acting like it - or he might just lose everything.

[jujutsubaby]

congrats on your milestone sweetie!!! a hot white mocha with oat milk, and a slice of the rose milk cake from maison rose would be lovely 🌹 thanks! 🤗

a/n. thank u for participating babe xx i really appreciate it. your ask was giving xmas/holiday szn so i decided to riff off of that hehe enjoy ~ 

🌹 WELCOME TO MAISON ROSE ! 🌹

🤍 PAIRING. mikasa

🤍 WORD COUNT. 1.4k+

what sucks more than having to work during the holidays? no, really, you’re waiting for an answer while you’re cleaning up another spill on the counter for the third time this morning. how are people this careless about leaving their drinks near the ledge?

not only that, but you have to do an expert job of cleaning or else your boss, mr. clean freak levi ackerman, would tear you a new one. god, you wish you had made better plans in advance. 

and to make matters worse, eldians rarely believed in using the holidays to stay at home and relax. rather, it was a time of festivities and late night gatherings @ paradis’ trendiest cafe: maison rose. 

okay, sure you’re sounding bitter right now and not at all in the holiday spirit but you have a good reason and it’s that you miss marley and your family, but alas, it was your choice to “find yourself” and you just happened to find yourself enjoying making delectable drinks and pastries with levi during his retirement. 

you take a look at your watch. 11:30pm. two more hours until closing. you can do this. at this point, people were already wrapping up their conversations and heading back to someone’s house, so you’ve been spending most of the time touching up the cake display and cleaning the coffee bar.

as you’re loading up the dirty dishes into the back, you hear the laughter of your least favorite customer. okay, let’s get all the formalities out of the way: you love and cherish every customer equally and you strive to make the best drink every day. but you would be lying if you didn’t think about using the expired milk on eren jeager’s cafe au lait every time he visits. 

it’s not that he’s rude or mean…just a bit too brash and uncomely for your liking. you finally see him and his friends walking towards the counter to order: armin, jean, connie, and…some (gorgeous? ethereal?) raven-haired maiden  you’ve never seen before. what’s a girl like her doing with a crass, uncultured, oafish guy like —

“‘sup babygirl, y’miss me?” eren says, winking at you and effectively derailing your train of thought. you stop staring at the girl like some juvenile teenager and focus back on eren. he’s wearing a black supreme hoodie, and you’re pretty sure it’s fake. you roll your eyes. 

“what do you want, jaeger?” you ask, annoyed at his greeting for you.

he frowns at your unwelcoming response. “why’re you acting like you don’t know your favorite customer’s drink?”

you raise an eyebrow. “so one iced bleach latte for you?” 

“i bet that would actually be so good because i know levi keeps the good cleaning shit in the back.” he says, without missing a beat. 

“can you guys not do your usual antics tonight? it’s literally a holiday here…” you turn around to see levi with crossed arms glaring at both you and eren, and you both nod your head and play nice to not scare the customers away. you quickly start jotting down the orders of everyone with eren, but you only paid attention to one particular order. 

a hot white mocha latte with a slice of rose milk cake on the side. the same rose milk cake you had spent hours this morning decorating, and had only one slice left. was it super delusional for you to think that this was meant to be? a raven haired maiden to request the very last piece of your hard work?

you got so caught up in your fantasies (read: slight delusions) that you forgot to ask for her name. 

you pride yourself in preparing your drinks with care and detail, but for some reason, you found yourself frothing the milk a little extra longer for the white mocha, and being extra precise pouring the latte art. 

you call eren’s name for the drinks and he gets up to receive them. a thought pops into your head, and you know it’s gonna hurt you more than eren to say it, but…fuck it, it’s the holidays anyway. 

“eren, wait.” you hesitate to say, not even realizing you were holding a silent breath. your hands clam up. “uhh, who’s…that girl you’re with?”

just as expected, a sinister smirk forms on eren’s face as he sneaks a glance back at mikasa who’s chuckling at something connie has said. “oh? you mean mikasa? why’d ya wanna know? does someone have a cruuussh–”

“shut…up, jaeger!” you hush him, not wanting anyone else in the cafe to hear. “i don’t have a crush on her okay, god forbid i wanna know my customer’s names, jeez…”

“oh, okay, then you’re fine if i admit to you she’s my girlfriend?” you practically drop the last precious slice of rose milk cake from the plate you’re holding. ain’t no fucking way she’s with him…

“you’re lying,” you say definitely, calling our eren’s bluff. 

“okay, yeah, i am. but still, that means you dig her, oooo~”

you regret this already. oh well, at least you tried. “just take your stupid drinks and go.” and for once, eren does as you say. 

you notice eren’s party stays longer than most other people, and it’s probably because of their close history with levi, who has been making the rounds to say hello to his old survey corps colleagues. 

as the two hours dwindle down to minutes, you’re almost done wiping down the countertops and unloading the dishes. levi leaves upon your insistence that he enjoy a night out with erwin and hange, despite his groaning and moaning about just wanting to go home, so it’s on you to close up shop. 

you wave goodbye to eren’s friends, and scrunch your nose up in disgust at eren. however, you notice the most peculiar thing: mikasa waving them goodbye whilst staying behind. you’re confused, wasn’t she…?

mikasa collects her plate and cup and meets you across the countertop. she looks so pretty wearing a tight fitted stop and baggy ripped jeans, that you almost don’t register her greeting you.

“hey, sorry i’m bringing in these plates so late, i know you must be dying to go home…”

“oh! um, don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal as long as you enjoyed your order.” you say warmly, taking the dishes from her. your fingers brush against her hands and you could’ve sworn there was twinge of pink on her cheeks. 

“it was the best drink! but i was really blown away about the rose milk cake? eren told me you make them every morning and design them yourself? is that true?” eren told her that? eren talked about you to mikasa? 

“oh, uh, yeah, i guess i do,” you say, scratching the back of your head. 

“don’t be so humble! you should be so proud of what you made. you’ve actually ruined cakes for me, so thanks for that.” you chuckle. 

“do you really like it so much? i’ve been saving a slice of saffron milk cake because it was leftover from today in the back, you want it?” 

“oh! eren told me you might have some leftovers in the back but i thought he was just messing with me like always.”

“yeah, you can’t ever trust that guy.” eren? telling mikasa? about your secret cake stash in the back? the last time you told him about that, you made him promise to keep it a secret while you two scarfed them down after levi left. 

“i never do! at least not for normal stuff like this,” she chuckles. that being said, you were glad eren’s big mouth blabbed this little secret. 

you go to the back and bring out two slices of saffron milk cakes for mikasa in to-go boxes. she stares at the cakes, before demurely looking at your eyes. the eye contact catches you off guard as she says, “maybe we can sit down and share the slices together? i don’t think we ever met, y/n. sorry, eren told me your name…i hope that was okay.”

wait? she asked eren for your name? “i’d love to, actually.”

the delusions were well and alive in your mind as you once again are convinced this must be fate, even if that fate involves a little bit of eren’s meddling. you take off your apron and join mikasa in the couch in the corner, where the two of you sink into the sofa, and end up way too close to each other as you share the cakes.

but neither of you mind it. 

[knockyasocksoff2022]

The One Day Return of Double Black

(A/N: I intitailly panned for this to be a relationship reveal but it turned out softer, as many of my writing has lately. I don't mind it though. Also this is my very first time ever writing in 3rd person so please forgive me if it sounds whack as hell. This fic isn't entirley isn't entirely in 3rd person, but I wanted to try out a new style of writing,  so let me know if you like it.)

(4,846 words)

Third Person Perspective:

He walks with a purpose, angry that his partner left for work without him. Isn’t it much more efficient if they come in together? After all, they’re work partners so no one would ever suspect the rings resting under Chuuya's glove and Dazai’s shirt, on a chain that holds it suspended right over his heart.

The route to the headquarters is twisting turns through dark back streets, but Dazai remembers it with perfect clarity as if it were yesterday. To him, it was.

—

Even after all this time not much had changed. The Port Mafia still cower under the gaze of Dazai Osamu. If anything they’re more afraid now. And why shouldn’t they be, he is the only person in history to betray the mafia and walk away alive.

The guards are so scared they hardly pay attention to the way the Demon prodigy’s gaze isn’t as sharp as usual, eyes glazed over, or that his unbrushed hair sticks to his forehead with sweat.

Even if they were to notice, it would go uncommented on because that’s the privilege of being the Demon Prodigy.

So no one says anything when he walks through the lobby of the Mori Corporation, black dress shoes still shiny as the day they last set foot here, clicking evenly as he heads for the lift.

The guards will not radio about his presence to their superiors because they are cowards, too afraid of being punished for letting him in. They will not stop him either, too afraid of being punished if he is truly supposed to be here. They are too afraid of him. The torture master, who seems to have regained sight in his other eye. “How terrifying,” they think, “must he be with full sight instead of half.”

The torture master doesn’t stop to think that it’s strange that his old lift code still works, because right now he doesn’t remember just how old it is, the heat coursing through his body erasing the past four years of conflict.

He stares at his reflection. His suit is still pressed, not a wrinkle visible because it’s been untouched. To anyone else, the garment would have been long outgrown but years of only occasional meals of low-calorie food have allowed him to remain the same size and weight as when he was only a boy.

He does not think he is eighteen again, but maybe he wishes he was. For him, time has passed in a sort of mixed and matched fashion, a quilt of mind and muscle memories. His mind, for the movement at least, exists in a world where things are the same as they’ve always been. And when the lift door opens, he needs only to walk down the corridor, into the meeting room (his biometrics will still work) and his executive seat will be waiting for him (it is) just as it was yesterday. He has no idea that, while he would be welcome, his striding into that room would cause a commotion. To him, this is simply another day.

“Maybe I’ll blow off the meeting, and just bother Slug instead, he did leave without me after all.” The prodigy hums as he thinks to himself.

The lift opens to an empty corridor, the boy’s illusion is safe for now.

Chuuya comes first, before everything. He heads down the opposite end of the corridor, to give his lover a piece of his mind.

Chuuya’s Perspective

The weekly meeting was cancelled, and I hardly have any paperwork so I’d say this counts as a good morning. Maybe Mori-san will ask me to take Elise out for ice cream or something. I don’t mind her, when she’s away from him she’s really a nice kid. I won’t dwell too much on the fact that she’s been a kid the entire time I’ve known her, maybe her ability has something to do with shape-shifting.

(A/N: Chuuya likes to be with Elise because it makes him feel tall.)

The door slams open. It’s not the noise that makes me drop my pen, but the person standing in my doorway.

“Ne Chibi! You horrible ungrateful slug, you left me at home! Honestly, you’re so disrespectful. You made me late, I should report you to Mori-san, but I won't because I’m such a good partner, not like you.” 

And suddenly . . .

He’s 16 again. 

A teenager in demeanour but a man in physique, and I’d be lying by omission if I failed to mention how he looks in that suit. The whole situation takes my breath away, proof that love trumps logic when my first thoughts on his sudden appearance here are thirsty ones and not concern.

It makes me a bit sick to think that he’s still skinny enough to fit into something he wore when he was eighteen.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” That's what I want to say, but Dazai’s realm is logic, shifting the pieces from the background. Brute force won’t get me anywhere, it only makes him curl defensively into himself, like a porcupine.

“First of all, you’re the ungrateful one, you brat! You’re the one that sleeps until ungodly hours of the morning. I left you breakfast, did you want a note or something? I’m not your mother!”

He crosses his arms, stepping closer to my desk. I don’t stop him, “Breakfast was absolutely terrible, like everything else you cook, and you still left me—”

I want to laugh, we both know my cooking is exquisite, but there’s something more upsetting about what he said. “Wait, you didn’t drive here, did you?”

“How else was I supposed to get to work when you LEFT ME!” he emphasises the last two words, hopping up to sit on the edge of my desk. I sit on my hands so I don't end up shoving him out of the window.

“I can’t believe you! How many property damage fees do we owe now? Never mind, don't answer that. God! You’re giving me a headache already. And stop going on about how I left you, this isn’t bringing your fish to work day. Why are you even here at all? If you bothered to drive, why didn’t you go to work?”

“I did. I’m here, aren’t I? I could’ve ditched, but nooo, I came in just for you, hatrack.”

“You know you don’t work here anymore, dumbass.” It’s a joke, we both know it. This is just something Osamu would do, come back and act like everything is normal just to psych me out. I always swear not to let his antics phase me but something about him today is ‘off ’. It’s already driving me insane how I can’t put my finger on it.

“Yes I do, I always have, does Chibi have amnesia or did he just finally run out of memory storage in that small brain of his?” He tugs on my hat and I reach out to punch him but he sinks down before I can.

“My brain is just the same size as yours. You don’t work here, and if you think you do then you’re the one with mental problems, not me!”

“Ah, my dog is so mean to me! Bad dog! Bad dog!”

“I’m not your fucking dog you sleazy bastard.”

“Big words coming from a chibikko hatrack.” He remarks, shrugging casually.

These words finally make me pause. As much as we still love sniping at each other, many of these nicknames are hardly ever used anymore, ones we save for times when we both need the nostalgia. Hatrack. I haven’t heard that one in forever, and despite the jeering nature, it sends a flood of warmth through me.

Is that what he’s here for? The nostalgia of it all? Is this what he wants? 

I scrutinise his face for any trace of his motives, taking in every detail. He’s a glorious enigma. His jet-black hair is matted, a snarl that still manages to look fluffy. There’s something stiff about the way it frames his face as if stuck on by glue.

His eyes are bright, a different kind of bright than when he usually teases me, or the soft aura they get when it’s just us alone at home. Normally when he teases me his irises maintain that darkness, almost black, eating all light that enters them, but now they almost appear chocolate brown, reflecting the light. Glossy, sparkling with a shine like the surface of the ocean under the summer sun. It’s disconcerting, wrong, like when he smiles just a little too wide. I don’t dislike it, but I know it isn’t right.

He hasn’t shaved in a while and there’s stubble forming around his jaw, the dark contrasting with his pale features, too pale, the barely visible bags of his eyes making his eyes look far too big.

If nostalgia is what he wants then I’d be happy to give it to him, but I don’t think it is. This is something beyond either of our control.

Shit.

Great, this is just great! What am I gonna do with him now?

“Is Chibi going to apologise to me, or will he be sleeping on the sofa tonight?”

I step closer. I know what’s wrong, but I’ll need to touch him to be sure.

We’re so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, his coat certainly isn’t helping. I run at a higher temperature because of Arahabaki, so if I can feel it, it’s bad. He needs a doctor fast, but he’s so stubborn . . . how can I make him come willingly?

“I’m sorry I left you, Osa. You just looked so peaceful sleeping, I couldn’t wake you.” I whisper the words, standing on my tip-toes, leaning forward, closing the small gap between us.

It’s true, with his insomnia being how it is a full night's sleep is rare and when he does get it I let him sleep for as long as he possibly can. I think his colleagues think he sleeps late but most of the time he’s laying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to get up or trying another method of suicide he found on some sketchy webpage with r-rated pop-up ads.

When my lips meet his I gasp, he tries to deepen the kiss and put his tongue in my mouth. I don’t let him. He responds by pulling the long piece of my hair. I pull away, still grasping his shoulders. I’d been expecting warmth but not like this. Holding him is like holding a flame, his skin feeling like he’s been outside for hours in the summer heat. 

“Fuck! Shit! Dammit, Osa! You’re burning up.”

He just laughs, “So Chibi does think I’m hot, I knew it!” he grins in triumph, of course, he would be laughing with a temperature like this, “You earned your way back to the bed–”

“Actually, I will be sleeping on the sofa, I have no intention of catching whatever you have. We need to get you to the infirmary, Mori-san will have something for you.”

I grab his hand and pull him out the door. I should be worried about people seeing him, but they won’t hurt him. And should they try I won’t let them. I hold Osamu’s burning hand all the way to the lift. How he’s still even functioning, much less standing with a fever like this makes me think he really isn’t human.

The infirmary is only one floor below us, just below the training room, but the training room takes up the space of three floors and the lift isn’t going nearly fast enough for my liking, so I use my ability to drop it.

I thank god for Osamu’s awareness and that he doesn’t cling to me for support and risk cancelling my ability.

When we reach the right floor I release the lift from For The Tainted Sorrow, it clunks loudly to a stop.

The infirmary takes up this entire floor, you might think we’d need multiple floors for enough space, and we do, but this is the so-named special infirmary. (Some of us call it the Meat Locker, behind Mori-san’s back because it’s always so cold.) Mori-san works here when he’s not busy planning strategy. This facility is for the top mafia operatives and is thus equipped to handle ability users and ability-related injuries. The grunts and foot soldiers use the larger infirmary lower in the building.

I set Osamu on the nearest bed and go to find a nurse. The nurses must be in between shifts, but I find Elise. She’s wearing a small nurse’s uniform, hat and all. When I was first told she worked in here I was extremely sceptical but her medical knowledge is as vast as Mori-san and she’s never made a mistake in treating a wound. (This backs up my theory that she’s not actually a child, but an adult who likes to shapeshift into child form, for whatever reason.)

(A/N: HC that Elise possesses all the same basic skills that Mori-san has, like she can do surgery and she could drive but it’s a bit hard for her to reach the pedals and see over the dash. Also in this fic, Chuuya doesn't know Elise is Mori-san’s ability.)

Elise greets me, “You’re here with Osamu aren’t you?”

“How-”

“It’s the look on your face, only he can bring that worry and desperation out in you. What’s happened to him, another attempt?”

“No, he has a fever.”

Elise glares and rolls her eyes, “A fever, seriously!”

“Come on, Elise, you know I wouldn’t have brought him here if it wasn’t bad, and it’s bad.”

“True. Does he have any other symptoms?”

“No, but he’s delirious, he thinks he still works here.”

“Oh, I’m sure Rintarou loves that.” Her dry humour at the expense of Mori-san always amuses me, but I don't laugh now.

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“Are you hiding Osamu?”

“No, he just marched in here as far as I can tell, but I didn’t get a chance to tell Mori-san yet. I figured I’d do it when he’s not dying.”

Elise shrugs, “Fair.”

We’re at Osamu’s bed now, and I can see what he so easily hides from everyone else. He’s starting to wear, the fever finally taking its toll, still, he looks much better than he should and it creeps me out a bit.

Elise feels his forehead, but unlike me, maintains her composure simply nodding and pulling out a thermometer. He doesn’t let Elise stick the thermometer in his ear, so I do it, while she disappears into the medication store room.

After too long, the device beeps.

39.4℃

How is he even . . .? Right, he’s Dazai, of course, he’s fine. The damn cockroach!

Elise is back, pushing a cart with a glass pitcher, a stack of fabric, and medication, which Osamu takes only after I give him a stern look.

Elise takes a stack of fabric, white clothes, and lays them on the bed.

“Fevers like this are dangerous, he’ll need to stay hydrated.” She sets the pitcher on the table beside the bed, “This is mineral water, make sure he drinks all of it, and when it’s empty fill it up again, they’re bottles in the fridge in the store room. If he starts showing any more symptoms let me know, but unless something changes, he should be okay to go home tonight.”

I nod, dumping my coat and hat into the bed next to us, and pouring some water into the glass cup, holding it carefully out to my husband. He doesn’t take it.

“You can get changed first, but then you have to drink water, okay.”

He nods.

I hand him the stack of clothes and pull the curtain around the bed.

When he doesn’t stand I begin pulling off his trench coat. He sits up a bit, allowing me to remove the heavy garment, then flops back down, I sigh and let my finger trace his collarbone while I untie his tie, he leans into the contact, more alert now. I ignore how my warm touch feeling cool to him isn’t a good thing in favour of unbuttoning his shirt.

Now all that’s left are his bandages.

They’re stuck to his skin with sweat but eventually, I peel them all off, his pale fevered skin glowing sickly under the fluorescent lights.

A cool shower or bath would be ideal but I settle for wetting a towel under the sink and patting him down gently with it. He leans into my touch and for just a second I think he’s fallen asleep but then his eyes blink open so fast it makes me jump a little. Swatting his bare arm, I help him put on the soft white pants and a loose white t-shirt.

He still doesn’t touch his water.

I hold it out to him, “You gotta drink, Osa, having a fever like this isn’t good for you, we need to get it down. Then we can go home and watch whatever shitty movies you like.”

He shakes his head.

“Osamu!”

He’s staring at me like he's drinking in every aspect of my being like I did for him in my office.

“I like it when Chuuya is my partner.” He finally says.

“I’ll always be your partner, you silly fish. Forever remember, we promised.” I take off my glove, showing him the ring, a shining metal thing. Two bands of stainless steel with azure sapphires running a line in between them.

Osamu takes out his own ring, two iron bands, with blood-red rubies in between, and rolls it in his palms, not saying anything.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean it like this.” He gestures to the infirmary around us but I still don’t understand.

“I like being Chuuya’s work partner,” he explains, looking more alert now, the medication must be working. “I like it, knowing that everything is still the same, being here and knowing I belong.”

Oh. “You’ll always belong here.”

“Maybe so, but I could never ignore Oda’s last wish like that. I’m already remembering, and I know that once I stop having a temperature everything will go back to normal. But I want . . . I want to stay here with you, hatrack, in this time capsule, just a bit longer.”

Softness and tender love may be what he needs, but it’s not what he wants. Well, then I’ll play along. I don’t mind at all. If he wants to be sixteen again, who am I to deny him that? I’ll love and care for him in the same burning way I did back then.

I sigh, sitting up straighter, leaning away from him, removing any trace of softness from my voice and getting into character. “Hmph! Of course, a mackerel like you would want to stay here longer! I thought you hated pain. And, don’t give me those eyes, I’m not gonna do your paperwork for you.”

He smiles that goofy smile, understanding what I’m doing, not at all offended by my harsh tone.

“Ah, but dogs are supposed to be loyal, and I’m sooo dreadfully ill!��� He flops back dramatically

The next line comes easily, “I am not your damn dog!”

We fall back into the teenage banter embarrassingly easily as he goes on about how his greater height makes him the master. It feels like only yesterday that I was in the arcade, choosing to follow him instead of Shirase and Yuan, as I shove a cup of the mineral water towards him, splashing his face. 16-year-old me wouldn’t have reached for a towel to dry his face, so I don’t either. It’s probably okay since he still has a fever.

“Just shut up and drink, you mummified fish!”

He dips his finger in the cup and flicks water at me.

“Dammit, shitty Dazai! Drink it and drown for all I care.”

He takes a slow sip, then another, downing the cup in seconds, his following of my command the only thing shattering the illusion. It makes me laugh how I still call him Dazai when I tease him, even though he hasn’t had that surname in years. I think he’ll always be Dazai, on some level.

-

The day passes surprisingly quickly. With the help of the medication, cool clothes and water, Osamu’s temperature steadily returns to normal.

I tell him about the upcoming mission Mori-san has for ‘us’ and we complain about it. I hear Elise’s chime-like laughter from the store room. Even with his head foggy he offers strategies that make me wish he would still sit at the executive table.

I complain to him about how Mori-san is probably going to make me do paperwork on this incident, and he replies that it’s my own fault because I shouldn’t have left without him, and could have just left him in my office. “But you didn’t, because Chibikko cares about me~~~” he sing-songs.

“In your fucking dreams maybe!” The denial sounds so false on my lips that we both burst out laughing. His eyes are clear again, the haze of fever gone, he doesn't think he’s my work partner anymore, but neither of us stops the banter.

-

After a while though, the sun begins to slip lower and lower in the sky. I take Osamu’s temperature, it’s normal. The pretending is officially over.

“You're all better, Osa. As soon as Elise clears you, we can go home.” I let the softness return to my voice.

I expected him to be disappointed, but he smiles softly, tucking his hair behind his ear in that pretty way he does. Sometimes we both yearn for the nostalgia of simpler times, but we both know that what we have now, between us and only us, is a million times better.

I’ll miss this, but I won’t miss the old port mafia dorm or Osamu’s shipping container. I won’t miss when we didn’t have our own home, the place that is ours. A place we don’t have to hide. I won’t miss the time before I wore a metal ring under my glove. 

I do miss our large king bed, open plan kitchen, luxurious sofa, and our spacious shower.

My stomach rumbles, “God, I’m fucking starving.”

Osamu pats his own stomach, and we remember neither of us had lunch. For some reason, it seems like the funniest thing. We can’t stop laughing for a full minute.

I sigh, catching my breath. “Do you feel well enough to eat? We have leftovers in the fridge, or I can make okayu.”

“Hmm, I know it’s late, but I’m restless from lying down all day, we should go out somewhere?”

I give him a once over. He looks fine. “Yeah, sure. How about that old ramen and sushi place, you know, near–”

“The arcade, yeah.” he finishes my sentence.

“I’ll go get Elise.” Before I can get up there's the sound of even steps on the tile floor.

“Chuuya-san, Dazai-kun, I’ve been meaning to come check on you two.” Mori’s voice and silhouette are familiar, even in the dark infirmary.

“Mori-san.” I nod to my boss. If he’s surprised to see Osamu here he doesn't show it.

“Oh, you can drop the formalities for now, and don’t worry, I’m not here about your paperwork, I gave you the day off as soon as Elise informed me of the situation. Thank you for visiting our fine establishment today, Dazai-kun, I’m glad you’re back to full health. Please know you’re welcome back anytime you like.”

With that, he walks off. Most of the time I laugh when Mori asks Osamu to come back. He won’t force him back and even then Osamu would find a way not to come if he didn’t want to. After today though, I find myself wishing Osamu would accept. We were such a good team, and we still are. But I respect his wanting to stay in the light for Oda, and I can be more than content with having him be mine all mine outside of work.

Elise feels Osamu’s forehead, taking his temperature one last time, and declares him cleared.

I smile as she leaves, we both do.

He looks at his clothes scattered on the floor.

“Those are all sweaty, you shouldn’t wear them. And no bandages either, you can put them back on at home, after you’ve had a shower.”

He gives me puppy eyes, “Fine. Would a dog lend his master some of his clothes?”

“Fuck no!”

“Ugh, not the ones you’re wearing . . . though I would like to see you naked.”

I smack him lightly on his head.

He shrugs, “Can’t I be honest with my husband? But only I get to see Chibi naked, you can keep your clothes. I know you keep spare stuff in your office in case you have to work overnight.”

I roll my eyes and pull him up, grabbing his clothes and my own coat and hat.

-

He looks at home in my office, lounging on the sofa looking as if he never left, as if I woke up and came back in here realising that his betrayal was merely a dream. 

But I know he never left me, not really.

The clothes I keep in my drawer are for all sorts of emergencies.

A copy of my usual work outfit in case it gets bloody or something.

Pyjamas if I have to sleep here

A formal suit for the dinners we executives have to attend with Port mafia associates.

Some old casual clothes if I have a stake-out mission

And a nice but not fancy outfit for when I have a date with Osamu and I’m not able to stop at home to get ready first.

I take pieces from each of the last three outfits for Osamu, already laughing as I picture how short the sleeves and trousers will be on him. It’s his fault that his arms and legs are so ridiculously long.

I hand him the clothes and he seems to be thinking the same thing (we often are). His face morphs into a look of teasing disgust. “Ewwww! I have to wear Chuuya’s tacky clothes.”

But he gives no protest as I help him undress. Thankfully the suit is new enough that I hadn't hemmed the slacks yet, and because he’s so skinny the waistband shouldn’t be a problem.

Taking inspiration I decided to go for something more casual myself.

-

The outfit is mismatched but when I stand back it all somehow fits. Frustratingly, he’s managing to pull off the white tee shirt, black slacks, and red hoodie.

I wear a black tee shirt, an old worn pair of jeans and a blue Yokohama Tigers bomber jacket.

He laughs, holding me just off the ground, “We match.”

“Yeah, Now let me go, I’m hungry!”

I stuff our clothes in a paper bag I have left over from my last trip to the wine shop and we’re off.

-

I’d almost forgotten about it but the weight that comes off my shoulders when I see that Osamu’s car is miraculously unscathed is immense.

I drive this time, while Osamu stretches himself out in the backseat, singing loudly along to the music on the radio.

-

The sleek car will stick out on this side of town so I park in an alleyway.

“You good to walk the rest of the way?”

“Yup.”

People stare at us as we walk. I don’t blame them, I’m sure I look like some kind of punk high schooler and then there's Osamu with his dress trousers and shoes with a hoodie.

It makes me feel fifteen again, people used to stare at us then too.

The ramen joint is run by a small gang, but they don’t interfere with us so we leave them alone. The owner still shakes in fear when we enter, wondering what business I could have with him.

“We’re just here for the food,” I say, not paying him a glance as I take two menus from the counter. He sighs in relief.

-

The food takes a bit longer than usual, but I swear it’s twice as delicious. I think they must still be worried about my business here.

Osamu and I eat wordlessly, the food is too good to be uninterrupted by any conversation. When we’re together we don’t need words anyway, and when we’re done we both stare out the window. We can see the bright lights of the arcade from here, one of the only and brightest lights around, a beacon in the night.

Osamu looks at me, I look at him. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes, the one I used to crave like it was life itself before I knew he returned my feelings. I can see the shine in my own eyes reflected in his.

I take a wad of cash out of my wallet and drop it on the table, the waitress looks at us with wide eyes as we leave. I say nothing but Osamu waves goodbye to the owner like a little kid, the gleam in his eyes only intensifying.

The sun has completely disappeared from sight now, and we should go home and go to bed like responsible adults, especially after the day Osamu’s had. But it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last so what’s a little disregard for personal health for old-time’s sake?