#i wonder what he would have to say about that picture now. like if he remembers what party it was and where

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

[burningembers91]

The Shape of You - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to

Loving You From Afar

Synopsis: When babysitting Na-Yeon, you discover one of Park Gyeong-Seok’s secrets.

You were looking after Na-Yeon when you found the drawings. One of her Barbie’s shoes had fallen down the side of the sofa, and as you leaned down to retrieve it, you felt the wads of paper stuff between the sofa and wall. Pulling them onto your lap, you were shocked to see at least a dozen drawings and paintings of you. There were ones of your whole body, ones of just your face, ones where you were laughing, and one where you were staring off into the distance. You had no idea Gyeong-Seok had been drawing you, had no idea why he’d kept these hidden. You’d never thought of yourself as particularly beautiful and yet he’d managed to capture you in the most stunning light. He was out until late evening, taking on some extra work as an art teacher in a local night school, but you needed to find out why he drawn you so many times and then hidden them away.

You fed Na-Yeon and read her to sleep, before settling back on the sofa with the pictures. Gyeong-Seok had captured you so perfectly, had painted you in a light you’d never seen yourself in. you couldn’t stop looking at the images in front of you, wondering if this was how he saw you. You so looked so confident, so sure of yourself and so naturally beautiful. You tried comparing your reflection to the drawing but somehow, Gyeong-Seok had managed to capture you better than a mirror ever could.

The TV was down low when he arrived home. He’d has such a great evening, and there had even been talk of giving him a more permanent position. It would mean more money for him and Na-Yeon, more money to maybe finally take you out on a date. He stopped dead when he saw you, still clutching the drawings he thought he’d hidden so carefully.

“I…” He stood dumbstruck as you held them up to him.

“These are really good,” you smiled. “I had no idea.”

“I…” Again, Gyeong-Seok seemed unable to form words, the embarrassment creeping up his face like a red-hot poker. You weren’t meant to see those drawings; he never should have made them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, “I look… you’ve made me look more beautiful than I’ve ever felt before.”

“I was just painting you how I see you,” he shrugged, shifting his bag from his shoulder to the rickety kitchen table.

“But I look so beautiful,” you whispered, still unable to believe that you were the person depicted on the pages.

“Well,” he said quietly, so quietly you barely heard him. “It’s because you are. You are beautiful.”

You both stood staring at each other, both wondering what came next. He wanted to kiss you so badly, to show you that you were so much more beautiful than you ever gave yourself credit for. You both slowly closed the gap between you, the air buzzing with the growing tension.

“Say it again,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“You are beautiful,” he replied. “And funny, and kind, and so good to me and Na-Yeon.”

You were mere inches apart now, your faces so close he could see the specks of colour dotted in your irises. “You are so beautiful,” he repeated, his hand coming to rest gingerly on your cheek.

His lips met yours, soft and sweet, both of you testing the water. This felt so good, so right, and neither of you could believe you’d denied yourselves this happiness for so long. His fingers caressed your neck, your arms entwining round his waist as you deepened the kiss, the tips of your tongues meeting as you explored one another. Gyeong-Seok wanted you, needed you. He needed to feel every inch of your skin, needed to hear you moan his name as he fucked you. He led you gently to his threadbare sofa, never once breaking your kiss. But it was you who gently pushed him down into the pillows. It was you who straddled him, removing his checkered shirt as your lips traced the sweet contours of his neck. You’d thought about fucking him right here on this very sofa more times that you could count. Gyeong-Seok had so much pent-up stress inside of him, and you were dying to release it. There would be time to explore each other properly; right now, you both just needed to quell the deep aches between your legs.

Pushing him down further into the cushions, you removed his faded grey t-shirt, giggling quietly as he helped remove your sweater. You looked so perfect in the dim light of the TV, your curves more perfect than he ever could have imagined. His torso was toned, his arms surprisingly strong as he manoeuvred your body on top of his. He heard the sound of his jeans unzipping, felt your hand dip into his underwear and gently grip his cock. He had to clamp his hand over his mouth to supress the moan that fell from his lips. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this, and he’d forgotten how good it felt. You bit back another giggle, hopping off the sofa to fully remove his jeans. As you pulled down your skirt and underwear, Gyeong-Seok looked up at you from his reclined position on the sofa. Reaching his hand up, his slid his fingers ever so gently through your slick folds. Now it was your turn to supress a moan as he slipped two fingers inside you. You were so wet, so perfect and he smiled as you shivered against his touch. You couldn’t bare it any longer; you needed each other.

You climbed on top of him, lowering yourself down on his hard cock, your lips meeting in a crashing kiss as you desperately sought to subdue your moans. You moved against each other, Gyeong-Seok’s hips thrusting into you in the sweetest of rhythms. His hands traced your stomach, your breasts, his fingers tracing delicate circles over your flushed skin. he felt you shudder against him as you reached your peak, your teeth grazing his lower lip in quiet ecstasy. He wasn’t far behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he spilled himself inside of you.

you stayed with him that night, cuddled up on the sofa bed with the threadbare fabric and the broken springs. Gyeong-Seok held you as you slept, the scent of your perfume already staining his sheets. Tomorrow, he would ask you out for that cup of coffee. Tomorrow, he would finally ask out the girl he’d fallen in love with.

[icarusredwings]

Yall ever think about how Logan has *nothing* from his universe? I can't imagine he had a big collection of things, but it makes me wonder about his very little amount of pictures, his Veteran hats, his badges, his devils bergade hat, honorary medals. No, he wouldn't have kept all of it. Not even half of it. But I just know that he sometimes sees someone with a matching badge from a specifc group and wants to flash them his own but can't. He hates the things he's done with his life, hates himself just as much. But he hates the way he has nothing to show for it even more.

Hates the way Jean turned Logan's old room into a memorial and hung up every award he kept, every badge, every medal, every hat, anything that showed significance of the time Logan spent protecting people.

At least that's what she claimed it's meant for but this Logan knows. He knows just how bloody these badges were before cleaned. He knew what it took to get that medal and reconized the stitching in one of the uniforms because his has to be fixed the same way.

But do you know what he really hates?

That almost everything in this room is from a time in which he was owned. Treated like an animal to be caged. Leashed. Chained.

It becomes very clear to him that the reason this Logan was liked so much is because he stayed, sure, but also he let himself be controlled. Be the property of someone else. Whether that be the X Men or the government, the military, didn't matter. He hated it all.

And yet... he's still envious. Because Logan STAYED. He fought when things got gritty.

Something he was too much of a coward to do.

When things got rough, he wouldn't fight like this Logan, No. He'd leave. Like a pathetic wuss.

Still to this day it confuses him. Why did he hold such an anger for him? Why did he let himself get chained down? Why did he care about people who just wanted to use him? Wouldn't it be better to leave? Who did he stay for?

"...He would have hated this."

Turning, He sees Kitty standing there beside him. He didn't even see her come in.

"Mmh.."

".. He would have said that too... I told her it was dumb. That you hated everything she makes you out to be... " She says, not looking at him but the picture on the wall.

"I'm not hi-"

"I'm not talking to you." The statment is sharp, glancing at him for just a moment. "But clearly, you hate it too.. I wonder..Do you hate it for the same reason?"

"...She made him out to be some kinda caged animal."

"She made you out to be some kinda war hero."

The parallels were said at the same time.

Kitty looks at him, brow raised. "He spent his entire life trying not to be that-"

"And I've been trying my entire life to be a hero. Look where that got me." Logan tells her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Kitty turns, flicking him in the nose.

"Ow, Hey!" He growls, trying to grab her hand, but she only phases through.

"You saved an entire universe. How are you not a hero?"

"Yeah! By killing my entire universe. One in which I've killed far more than you could probably count!"

Kitty gives him a look, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "...I'm a comp sci professor... try me. I bet more numbers have came out since you were in school, gramps."

Rolling his eyes, Logan grumbled. "Sure. Like im afraid of you, half pint."

Katherine's eyes widden and frowns, now looking away, hugging herself. He could smell how much this upset her, smelling the tears whelling up and the sadness within her.

"... Look I'm sorry. I don't know what you and him had but-"

She punches him square in the nose. Blinking, the pain floods the broken cartilage that had snapped. Blood trickles down his lip. For being so little, she sure packed a punch... wonder where she learned that.

His hand comes up, feeling it, then glared, snarling. "You little b-!"

"Ha ha! Can't touch me!" She says, wiping tears as his hand phases through her stomach.

"Rule number one! Never let your guard down." She tells him, now running off, completely morphing through the door as if it wasn't even there. "Can't catch me old man!"

Standing here, Logan blinks, his hands itching and eyes thinning. He wants to chase her. He's not sure why, but... he has a feeling that this isn't a fight. It feels more like a game of tag.. a dangerous game. But a game.

The smallest of smiles come to his face, unseathing his claws. Ripping open the door, he starts sniffing, trying to track her through the mansion.

A feeling of home fills his chest. It's foreign but...nice.

And just for a second? Logan thinks he knows why the dead fucker stayed..

[fl3shm4id3n]

ʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬, 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 ���𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ/ʀᴀᴘᴘᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Squid Game 2 SPOILERS, smoking, slut shaming, criticism from the public, death, blood, Thanos having the hots for reader, reader is kinda based on Megan Thee Stallion.

A/N: I've been listening to Megan Thee Stallion and Doja Cat again, I got some inspiration.

Masterlist

You were know as the infamous rapper 'Cherry' due that signature bright red color you wore all the time. You were at your golden age, everyone loved you. Specially young women your age, probably due because you sang songs about women struggles and anything involving women. Everywhere you went, you got recognized. You asked to take photos, sign pictures and other kinds of merch that your fans had in hand. You didn't mind, you loved your fans. They were the reason you became famous in the first place.

But then, you began to get criticized, according to a much older audience you were vulgar and not very lady like. They also criticized your music and how it was a bad influence to the younger generation. Not to mention your music videos. They criticized those too, simply because you wore very provocative outfits and danced inappropriately. The final straw was when you were spotted smoking cigarettes outside a night club. You got criticized even more. You even got slut shamed for it. You didn't understand the hate you got, you wondered if you were a man, would they still treat you the same?

You began to loose deals, no one really wanted to work with you. Scared about their reputation, you understood their explanation. It just sucked that you couldn't do what you really love. At some point, you had considered in no longer making music. But your fans had encouraged you to keep doing music, some even suggested you move to the States. You thought about it for a while now. Moving to the States wasn't so bad, you knew they weren't as critical as they were here. So you've made up your mind and decided to move to the US. But there was a problem, you barely had any money. That was going to be a problem, and your savings weren't going to cover the expenses. You needed money and needed it fast.

So, here you were. Dressed in a green tracksuit with the number '013'. You were told you'll be playing some games and get a huge amount of cash. There was a lot of people, were they here for the money too? Interesting. You were explained the rules and even signed a consent form and all that. While you were getting escorted to the first game, but first you had to get your picture taken. As you waited in line, you noticed a group of people huddling over a guy with purple hair. You knew right away who it was, it was the one and only Thanos. You were a huge fan of his, you had wanted to do a collaboration with him at some point.

"Omg, is that Cherry?!" Someone said, making everyone in that small group turn to look at you. "It is!" Someone else chimed in. Then they began to try and get you to go over to take a picture. Even Thanos chimed in. "Hey, I don't mind one more person, come on." He encouraged, before you could say anything, the guard came over and had told the group that they couldn't take picture that way, they had to be individual. No matter how much they begged to make an exception. The guard said no, Thanos then told that after the games, he'll take pictures with all of them. They all agreed and processed to get in line to get their pictures taken. When it was your turn, you made sure your hair was descent then processed to do your signature pose. You wondered if you could get your picture printed.

As you continued to walk to the destination of the game. A girl behind you, better known as player 196. "You're Cherry right?" She asked. "The one and only." You responded, she kind of squealed in excitement. "OMG, I always wanted to meet you in person. I've been to every single concert of yours!" She said, you couldn't help but smile and chuckle. "You have?" She asked. "Of course. I love your album RED, I listen to it 24/7." She explained excitedly. "I wish I had my phone so I can take a picture with you. Maybe even follow each other on Instagram." She said, still very excited to be right next to her idol.

Once outside, you and player 196 were still right next to each other. You had a feeling that she'd be stuck with you for the rest of the games, you didn't mind. "Hey, Señorita." You heard someone say behind you. You and player 196 turn to see who it was. It was the one and only Thanos. "Don't you know who I am?" He asked, while walking along side you and 196. "Do we have to?" She asked. "I do. Thanos The Mad Titan." You responded, making Thanos smile. "Das right. We can get to know each other. Tell me about yourself." He said, directly at you. "Are you hitting on me?" You couldn't help but asked. "Oh yeah, he definitely is." 196 said in response.

"In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds." He paused as he sang to catch his breath. "Red, orange, yellow, green. I'm a legend Thanos." He finished as he did his very known pose. You and 196 listened and watched as he continued to small rap. "Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green light." He paused, then look directly at you. "I like you!" He said, as he did the heart with his pointer finger and thumb, then wiggled his eye brow at you. You couldn't help but chuckle and feel your face heat up. "Do you even know who she is?" 196 asked. "Of course I do. The one and only Cherry." He said, but then he continued. "'I'd rather be a B.I.T.C.H 'cause that's what you gon' call me when I'm trippin' anyway'. Real Hot Girl Shit, Ah! " He finish his sentence with a quote from one of your songs and your catch phrase, as he then posed just like you did earlier in your picture. Making you chuckle. "I never thought thee Thanos listens to my music." You responded. "Of course I do. I know talent when I see it." He said. "Ya know, red really is your color. That lipstick suits you well." He said confidently. You couldn't help but smile at him.

Then the game rules were explained. It was green light, red light. It should be easy right. Then a guy began to yell and scream on what to do and what not to do. Who even was he. When the game started, he continued to yell and tell everyone not to move. "Freeze! Nobody move!" He yelled. You, Thanos and 196 stood still near each other. "Is he high or what?" 196 asked. "Nope. No one is like that when they're high." Thanos added. "Then he must be drunk or off his meds." You also added. You then heard a small bug fly by. You followed it with your eyes and noticed how it landed right on player 196. "What's that?" She asked, still not moving. "He knows you're a flower. There's a bee on you." Thanos teased. "A bee?!" She then began to freak out an move like crazy. You remained still, just watching her.

She stopped then turn to look at you and Thanos. "Crap, I just moved." She said as she chuckled. Then a gunshot was heard, followed by 196 getting her brains blown and falling right in front of you. Both you and Thanos got splattered in her blood and some brain matter. Even at that, you still remained frozen. Your eyes shifted to look down at her, seen a huge bullet wound on her forehead along with blood. The bee had come back and landed onto her cheek. The man yelled again. "Do not move!" He warned. You were frozen, you just witnessed someone getting shot. You wanted to scream, but you didn't. You feared that if you moved, you'd be next. Then people began screaming and running. Gun shots were heard and people were getting shot. Despite that, you still didn't move. You didn't want to die like this.

For the remainder of the game, you followed the guys instructions. It was obvious that you were scared, but you kept on going. You threw yourself across the finish line. Relieved that you were alive.

Back at the lobby, you were sitting on the floor near your bunk. Still breathing heavily, your hands were shaking. You were also slightly biting your extra long stiletto red nail on your pointer finger, nervously. You felt yourself slightly gag, you then covered your mouth with your hand. Feeling sick. Nothing came out, but your stomach was turning. You didn't even notice Thanos sitting next to you. "You okay?" He asked. You then uncovered your mouth. "I'm good, no worries." You said, still shaky. Thanos noticed and took your hand into his. Giving them small rubs and trying to ease your nerves. His hand were pretty warm and felt very comforting. You were more calm by his small kind gesture.

A bit letter, the same man began to argue with the pink men. Asking about the votes and all that. You weren't focus on any of that, you were more focus on what the hell you jus witnessed. The image of that girl was engraved in your head. You sure needed therapy after this. When the pink showed the amount of money in the piggy bank, your eyes were glued to the clear piggy. Seen that much money all together. Made your worries go away. All that money could help you get to the States and more. When you heard the more eliminated players, more money will be added. Was it bad that you wanted to stay for more? Who care if people will die, they're fucked from the get go. They'd either die here or out there.

When it came to the voting, a lot of people voted to stay. There was arguing with that guy. Claiming he played these games before. But no one really cared, people chose to stay and play. When it was your turn, you pressed O and given the O velcro patch to put on your jacket. When you headed to the O side, Thanos and some guy stood right next to you. "Good choice Señorita." He said with a goofy smile. "I need to the money, so. Either I get it here or I go back home empty handed." You simply said, almost cold. Thanos nodded his head, then wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. "Just stick with me, I'll protect you." He said, very confident. He then leaned down and literally licked the blood off your cheek. You groaned, but didn't mind. You couldn't help but chuckle by his action.

"You a freak or something?" You asked, while you wiped the saliva off your cheek with the jacket sleeve. "Baby, I'll be whatever you want me to be." He said, with a smirk while looking directly at you. You couldn't help but slightly bite your red bottom lip. Almost as if you were flirting with him. "I like you, like really like you." He said. "You only just met me today." You added. "Pfft, so? The moment I saw you, I knew I'd like you." He said with a flirtious smile. "Maybe this is fate." You teased. "Ya know, maybe I didn't get all the infinity stones." He said. You raised your brow. "Oh? And why is that?" You asked. "Well, I do have purple, yellow, blue and green. But, there's one missing." He said. "And that one is?" You asked. Thanos then responded. "I just need red. Red is the Reality stone." He said. You tilted your head to side, waiting for him continue. "And Baby, you're my reality." He said with a wink. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and laugh at his corny line. "What? It's true." He said. Maybe being in these life and death games wasn't going to be too bad.

[graceisinthelibrary]

How about #2 from the prompt list.

Sorry, but this took a while and it's too long... It's set between the episodes 5.5 and 5.6.

“You’re burning up! Like a match!” 

“Nonsense! Bugger off!” The mere idea was preposterous. Siegfried stared at his brother, the smug beggar, and wished him to the moon or at least back to Doncaster. He did his best to ignore the heat in his cheeks and hoped his beard would sufficiently cover his unease, before anyone else noticed it. 

Tristan chuckled and picked up the manuscript, the tome, as Siegfried had baptised it and gave the title a closer look. “Ancient Persia, eh? A memoir… anything racy?” With another giggle he dropped the volume to the desk. Dust exploded, dancing in the sunlight of the late spring morning. 

Siegfried wished his embarrassment about his feeble attempts at dating were less distinctive. It rubbed him the wrong way that everyone thought he was a lonely old man without any prospects in love. Well, he was getting older, no doubt about that. His aching bones spoke volumes about his age and so did his reading glasses, but none of this meant he wasn’t interesting to women. He was rusty, admittedly. But he wasn’t past his prime. Mrs Hall had said so, Carmody had reminded him about it, but Tristan had a field day with it. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard Mrs Hall moving about. She was giving the dining room a thorough dusting and although she would never say anything to embarrass him, he knew she was well aware of his interest in Miss Grantley. There was nothing happening in this household that she wasn’t aware of. He felt the heat in his cheeks intensifying as he tried to fathom whether she had an opinion about the matter or not. 

Did she think of him as a fool for trying his luck? 

Did she find him pathetic by getting into Miss Grantley’s good graces by reading her book? 

Tristan apparently did and he knew Helen good enough to know, she was thinking the same. James was perhaps the only one who didn’t bother to phrase his opinion and he was glad for his partner’s discretion. 

He had read his way half through the manuscript by now and didn’t know what to make of it. Catherine Grantley’s grammar lacked some things to be desired, and the story of her life seemed indeed racy. A bit too racy for his taste, but then what did he know about life and love in Persia? He wasn’t stuffy, but he wasn’t sure he enjoyed various descriptions of liaisons in the desert. 

In the corner of his eyes he watched Mrs Hall as she picked up Evelyn’s picture and cautiously cleaned it. She placed it gently back on the piano before she moved on to the next object, a small clock. The almost loving way with which Audrey Hall looked after Evelyn’s memory touched him and made him wonder about Miss Grantley and the late husband she barely remembered. 

The phone rang and sensing this was the opportunity to get rid of Tris, he barked at his brother to answer ‘the bloody phone’. Tris’ refusal, rooting in his amusement, vanished when Mrs Hall used her feather duster and her stern gaze on him. Once again she had saved him, but he didn’t want to show her how much Tristan’s teasing bothered him. 

“Just ignore him,” she said softly. “You know how he is.” 

“You mean he’s an annoying busybody. Worse than the vicar’s wife!” 

“He means well. He wants you to be happy.” 

“Well, I would be a lot happier if people stopped bothering me!” He snapped. Mrs Hall was the last person who deserved his gruff, but he didn’t know how to cope. He stared at the manuscript and sighed, annoyed with himself. “Is it that bad?” She asked, leaving it open if she was referring to the book or the woman herself. 

“Bosworth was right, you know.” He shoved the book into his drawer and shut it forcefully. “I’m all played out. Maybe I should join him for some bingo session on Friday night in the church hall.” 

Now it was her turn to chuckle. “You better not. You have no idea how the widows long for an eligible widower who’s still in possession of his own teeth and hair.” Despite his wish to be grumpy she just made him laugh. He looked at her and realised how cute she looked. The duster was stuck under her armpit and one of the feathers had come loose and was entangled with her hair. He longed to pull it out, but that would perhaps be considered overstepping. There was a roguishness about the way she smiled at him, that restored his good mood though and so he let her go without mentioning the feather. 

His eyes followed her trail down the hall. Suddenly he thought that he maybe should tell Miss Grantley about her grammar mistakes and some minor content-related improvements for her literary work. 

On her way into the kitchen Audrey thought about Siegfried and his sudden wish to impress that archeologist or whatever that lady did for a living. She couldn’t help but feel that she had put the bug in his ear when she had told him not to compare himself to Bosworth and that there was plenty in life ahead of him. And she had meant it. Their temper aside, the men didn’t have much in common. 

So, why did it bother her that he was trying to get into the good graces of this exotic stranger? From what Carmody had told her, Miss Grantley was an alien figure to begin with. Nice, but also… aloof? If Richard Carmody noticed as much she must be a handful. 

Lost in her thoughts, she entered her pantry and listlessly collected the ingredients she needed to prepare lunch. As she put the pan on the stove, Siegfried entered the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. 

“I can do that,” she offered and looked at him. 

He just smiled and shook his head. “Mrs Hall… May I?” 

Confused, she blinked, as he raised his hand and pointed at her head. 

“Course…” 

He slowly pulled out the feather and showed it to her. “A bit rogue that one,” he said. She took it and smiled at him. “Thank you for restoring me dignity.” 

“Thank you, Mrs Hall,” he said and when she crooked her eyebrow, puzzled, he added, “For being you.” 

[stupidlittlespirit]

You asked for some cute fun asks, so I've appeared to help!

If you've ever played (or watched someone else play) the Swooning Over Stans game, there's a scene in Stan's route where you go to a 70s dance night with him. It's very fun and flirty~

Ever since then, I've wondered if Ford would enjoy going for a dance like that with his s/o. I can definitely see him getting SUPER nervous about it beforehand because he's having flashbacks of his prom night disaster and thinking he's going to totally bomb it. But maybe his date would coax him to just have a little fun, let loose.

I agree with your thought that he'd be the kind of guy to like old classic crooner music (and now I'm swooning for real just thinking abt it), but maybe some 70s funk can get him going, too. Now every time I listen to that stuff, I can't help but picture Ford trying to teach his date how the dances really went (and possibly failing miserably but laughing over it)

GOD yes, I played Swooning when it first released and it was wonderful. I've played it through on both routes about 10 times each lol. I still can't believe we were gifted such a gorgeous game by all of those talented people for free.

I know exactly what scene you mean. That was such a nice touch.

I daydream about this fucking scenario with Ford a lot. It's so silly but I do it when I listen to that kind of music and it's really nice haha Very normal of me, I know, so expect a long answer to this under the cut:

I'm going to set this within GF, but at a function beyond the town he might struggle a little more unless he knew the people there.

I think Ford would be (naturally) nervous beforehand for the reasons you mentioned. He's not very fond of social interaction that isn't super necessary, though post portal he is definitely better at that than he was, and the thought of doing something that holds bad memories would be very daunting for him, to the point that he'd probably refuse at first. More so with the excuse that he doesn't have time or doesn't care about stuff like that than admitting he's nervous.

Mabel would definitely encourage him to go and Reader would mention that they'd enjoy having some fun/seeing him have fun as well, plus they'd certainly miss Ford if he stayed at home. They would understand his hesitation around the event but a little gentle comforting from them around the knowledge that they'd be there to support him would go a long way, I think.

"There's no pressure to stay if you get there and don't like it," and "We can just go home, you're in control of the situation and I'll be by your side no matter what," kind of thing. I think he'd find that very soothing and helpful, just to be reminded that no one will force him. Eventually, he'd give a little and agree on those terms. Plus, Mabel would guilt him a bit because she wants to see him to be included haha.

Once he got there, he'd be a wallflower to begin with. That's fine, obviously. He needs time to settle in. Maybe a drink or two, as well (I know how he feels LMAO) before he can really get comfortable. He'd look to Reader for comfort but he'd also not want to prevent them from enjoying themselves, so he wouldn't insist they stay with him all the time.

I don't think he'd refuse to engage with other people; he'd be reasonably accustomed with the townsfolk anyway so he'd know them and their demeanours a bit more than if he was at a totally new function or with people he had never met. He wouldn't start general conversation (unless it was with Fiddleford), though.

He'd definitely be more inclined to hover around the edge of the party rather than step straight in like Stan would, but if people came up to see him and say hi (and they would because the family is known and liked) then he'd be able to hold good conversation. Post-Portal!Ford is going to have developed his social skills a great deal from his time away and I think he'd be more willing to hear what other people have to say and engage with them.

When he was younger, I think he might have only really been interested in talking about the topics he knew about because they felt safer for him, they were something he was good at talking about, but obviously when you're that smart it's nigh on impossible to find that level of conversation with others so he would have considered himself a failure in terms of social ability purely because he struggled to connect on that aspect, when really he'd just be expecting a bit too much from the general populous. That, combined with general awkwardness and a lack of knowledge on how to make menial conversation would have made it really hard for him. He does talk about that in TBoB, actually, with the joke he makes about pie in the diner. It doesn't land because the waitress doesn't have that level of understanding. It's a funny joke though! He is good at talking to people, he just comes at it from a unique angle.

So, anyway, I digress. He'd be a bit shy but he'd be open to chatting to others, and eventually he'd warm up. He'd realise he's been overthinking everything a bit too much and getting in his own way, and then start to ease up without even realising.

Reader, meanwhile, would have to strike a balance on making sure he was okay and also giving him the space to bloom on his own. Maybe making eye contact with him from across the room and giving him a little thumbs up-thumbs down gesture to check in, only for him to return a thumbs up and big, warm smile, much to their relief. They'd have known he was capable of it, he just needed to remember his capability himself.

So after a bit of time and a bit of space to find his feet, he might overhear that they're playing the kind of music he used to listen to in his youth. I'm going to project here (because you guys know my affinity for 70's music) and say maybe some Baccara (Yes Sir, I can Boogie is a banger), some Bee Gees (duh), just anything fun.

Ford would know the words by heart and once you'd returned to his side, he'd be singing them under his breath or tapping his foot or whatever, and you'd ask him if he wanted to dance. He'd say no because dancing requires a level of self-humiliation and he'd be too self conscious initially, but again, you would coax him a little.

I think you could ease him into it (I think that's the trick with Ford generally anyway). Maybe Reader would take one of his hands and he'd twirl them around, just indulging them a bit because he'd think it's endearing even if he won't do it himself.

I think seeing someone else be a bit silly puts other people at ease and makes them a bit more willing to be silly themselves, so he'd kind of get a little more into it as the music went on and once things changed to those slower, crooning songs, he might just take Reader's other hand and (much to their absolute joy) slow dance with them a bit. He'd prefer to stay tucked into a corner rather than make a show of being out on the dance floor like his brother, but I think he'd be inclined to sing a little bit, just quietly, privately, and lead Reader in a dance.

He wouldn't be a practised dancer but he'd be able to keep time and count beats (it's math!) and although he'd still fuck it up, as would Reader because I doubt many of us are classically trained dancers, he'd be able to laugh along with you and have fun. He'd forget the room, as would you, and you'd be able to really have an intimate, joyful moment together.

God fuck I am so normal about this old man. This is the kind of shit they put you on medication for if you tell the therapist too much LMAO

Also shameless self plug but here is my playlist for this exact scenario. 'Misty' by Lesley Gore is my personal favourite Ford song. Don't judge me, I beg.

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 17 - Summer: In the Moonlight

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Your sister's birthday ball begins, but a surprise guest arrives...

Note: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a picture of Neuvillette with this little baby

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The first drops of precipitation landed on Neuvillette’s face. It took him a second to register it before he looked up at the grey skies.

“Aah...” he let out a sigh. While the rain and damp air soothed his mind, it also brought a heaviness to his mind. I should try to restrain myself for today. A birthday party should be a cheerful occasion, with sunny weather and clear skies.

Besides, he didn’t want to disappoint you more than he already did.

The trials had proceeded faster than he expected, though it was now late afternoon. They were mostly over petty offences and disputes. Even the Oratrice seemed to issue its verdicts a little quicker than usual, as though it was also impatient to get the day over with.

And now he was back at the Palais, standing in a corner outside the doors. He absentmindedly watched the people rushing about, looking for shelter from the rain.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind, imagining the flat surface of the sea. It seemed to work somewhat, but the sky remained leaden.

Throughout the centuries of his existence, Neuvillette had learned a few methods to settle his emotions after a trial. One of them was to distract himself with work, which was why he returned to his office even though he technically had the rest of the day to himself. He could have also returned home, but with Marie visiting family and you away for the whole day, the thought of going back to an empty, silent house seemed almost unbearable.

Yet another oddity that he noticed within himself recently. He usually relished quiet and solitude.

Shaking his head slightly, he entered the Palais and greeted Sedene before heading into his office, where he was met with a surprise but very welcome guest.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sigewinne, the head nurse of Meropide, waved her hand merrily at him from the couch. Feeling  his mind lighten considerably at the mere sight of her, he strode over to her quickly. There was a tray of tea and cakes in front of her.

“Sigewinne, what a pleasant surprise. I did not know that you had a day off today.”

“Hee hee, I wanted to keep it a surprise!” she bounced over to him with two small boxes. “The Duke also sends his greetings, as well as two boxes of tea.”

“How generous of him. Give him my thanks when you return,” Neuvillette accepted the boxes and studied them. He recognized them as black tea leaves from a high-end brand. He could smell the fragrance of the tea leaves even through the packaging.

“The Duke says he’s giving you two so that you’ll have more to share with Madame. Oh, actually, he said ‘your friend.’ Don’t worry, Monsieur Neuvillette, I didn’t breathe a word about who Madame is to you. I doubt he knows anything.”

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t pursue it any further. I suppose it’s alright if it’s Wriothesley, he thought. He is not the type of person to engage in idle gossip.

“He also says that he hopes Madame will like it, and that if she doesn’t, then feel free to ask him for another variety from his collection,” Sigewinne added.

“I do think she would enjoy it,” Neuvillette assured her, though he wondered about it. He didn’t believe he saw you drinking tea very much, except during the meeting with Furina. He did, however, remember seeing you drink Fonta on numerous occasions (it appears his endeavours to introduce you to the many varieties of water hadn’t yet borne fruit). Perhaps you preferred sweeter beverages. He tried to recall the pantry back home. Do we have enough sugar cubes or milk?

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” his musings were interrupted by Sigewinne’s voice. She was gazing up at him in confusion, her face tilted slightly.

Neuvillette shook his head, clearing it. “Pardon me, I was lost in my thoughts.” he said, then followed her to the couch, where they engaged in their usual conversation, which inevitably ended in her listening to his water commentary.

“Oh, by the way, Monsieur Neuvillette I really am looking forward to the sunflower viewing party in a few weeks. I can’t wait to finally meet Madame!” Sigewinne said after he finished talking about the properties of water from Mondstadt’s Cider Lake. “She sounds wonderful from what you’ve said of her. Did she come and watch your trials today? Has she already gone home? I don’t see her with you...”

“No...no, actually, she is currently attending her sister’s birthday party back home.”

“Oh, I see...” Sigewinne peered at his face, then glanced out the window. The rain seemed to have stopped completely, but there was no sign of the sun either. She suddenly turned back to peer into his face. “You must miss her.”

“Miss her? No, of course not. She will only be away until tomorrow,” Neuvillette said, almost automatically. But it was the truth. Besides, it was not as though he saw you every second of every day. In fact, it was rather common for him to only see you in the morning and at night. It should not be any different for this time, except for the fact that you would not be at home to greet him when he returned, or bid him good night or good morning...

Before I knew it, I’ve come to expect these things...

“Oh dear,” Sigewinne remarked as thunder rumbled. “Monsieur Neuvillette, how about we take a stroll through the streets? I’ve been wanting to check out the new beauty products on sale anyways.”

“Yes, let us do so,” Neuvillette agreed, then stood up. Guilt welled up within him. He didn’t feel himself lately, and he was letting it affect his emotional state far too much. He was even making Sigewinne worried about him.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. “While we’re out, allow me to introduce you to a new drink called an ice cream soda. Madame introduced it to me yesterday. The flavor is quite intriguing. I do think you’ll like it.”

“Ooh, if you’re saying that, then I have to try it!” Sigewinne clapped her hands together excitedly.

A short time later, the two of them walked out of the ice cream shop with their drinks in hand, leaving behind astonished employees and gawking patrons. They sat down at a table in the back. Thankfully, the surrounding tables were empty due to the bad weather.

“This is good,” Sigewinne commented after she took a sip. “I especially love the fizzy soda bubbles. I’m going to tell the others about this later. ...Monsieur Neuvillette, what’s wrong? Your brow is furrowed. Do you not like yours?”

“No, that’s not it...” Neuvillette murmured, staring at his soda. How peculiar. He was sure he had ordered the same flavor you had bought for him. It tasted the same as well. He could tell that objectively, nothing had changed. But what was this sense of wrongness. Is it the soda, perhaps? Did the shop change the variety they used today? Should I inquire about it?

Neuvillette glanced at the shop entrance, which now had a line of people stretching out of it, and decided against it. The staff should not waste their precious time on his trivial question.

He turned back to Sigewinne, who was watching him closely. “There is nothing wrong with my drink, exactly. It is just that it doesn’t quite taste the same as it had yesterday, even though it is the same drink.”

“That is strange...” Sigewinne tilted her small head to the side, as if in thought. “It’s unlikely they would change the recipe in just a day, right? Maybe Madame asked them to add a little something extra. You should ask her.”

“Perhaps I shall,” Neuvillette nodded, then took another sip of his soda. It wasn’t just his imagination--it really did taste different. It had been so hot yesterday. Perhaps that affected things.

All he knew was that the sweetness of the ice cream soda you bought him lingered in his mouth for the whole day.

“What I mean is, Monsieur Neuvillette, you should go and ask Madame now.”

Neuvillette blinked. “Now?” he repeated.

Sigewinne nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. We both know that you can reach the other side of Fontaine in just a few minutes, and Sedene told me before that you don’t have anything important scheduled for the rest of the day.”

“That’s true, but...I cannot simply show up at her family’s home unexpectedly for such a trivial reason. It will only draw unnecessary attention, and it is already so terribly late in the day...”

He found himself making excuses one after the other. They sounded empty to his ears, even though there was sound reason behind them.

He was no stranger to the clash between emotion and logic--it was something he struggled with all too often. This was no exception. He didn’t understand why that brief look of disappointment had flashed across your face when you asked him if he would like to accompany you to the birthday party. Surely you knew that it was better for you two to not be seen together too much. He did not understand why you had asked him in the first place, nor why the first thing on the tip of his tongue was to say “Yes,” nor why your subsequent justification for his sake had stung him.

If he went to you right now, would he find the answers to those questions?

“Monsieur Neuvillette...” Sigewinne crossed her arms. “It seems to me like you’re making excuses for yourself. If I invited you to my party, I would be happy that you showed up no matter how late. But if you’re worried about it, then...” she rummaged through her bag and took out a small vial. “Here! Give this to Madame’s sister.”

Neuvillette took the vial and examined the label. “A skin serum?”

“I made it myself! Skincare is all the rage among young ladies of the Court these days. Tell her that it’s from me. Everyone loves receiving gifts on their birthday, after all, so maybe this will help soften the blow of your lateness.”

“I’m still not sure if I should take leave for such an inconsequential matter,” Neuvillette hesitated, even as his mind was calculating the time it would take to go from the Court to your hometown near the mountains in the northeast. I do think I’ll be able to get there before dark. “What if an emergency comes up?”

“The Gardes can handle anything,” Sigewinne assured him. “And I don’t think it’s inconsequential at all! You were invited as a guest. I’m sure your presence there will make everyone very happy, including Madame.”

“If you say so, Sigewinne, then I suppose I could stop by for a little bit and give your present,” Neuvillette was already standing up. “I do apologize that I can’t spend more time with you today.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll see each other again at the sunflower viewing party at your house,” Sigewinne smiled at him. “I can’t wait to meet Madame.”

“I feel the same way. She would be delighted to meet you as well,” he said, and meant every word of it.

After saying his goodbyes, he quickly strode away, back to the Palais. I have to write a note of absence for Furina first, and then collect some things. What sort of water would be appropriate for a birthday party, I wonder...

“Monsieur Neuvillette is already very cute, but he’s gotten even more adorable lately,” Sigewinne murmured to herself as she observed the sun breaking through the dense clouds at last.

It was well into the evening now, and the ball was in full swing.

For an event planned on such short notice, you had to admit it turned out quite well. The large assembly-hall, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and glittering chandelier, was festooned with colorful flowers and garlands. There was even a small orchestra playing music, which relieved you of piano duty. The bulk of it was thanks to Dominic’s generosity, though you suspected that it was much out of a desire to throw a ball as it was due to his affection for your sister.

The guests dressed in accordance to the instructions on their invitations--everywhere you looked, you saw flowers in buttonholes, pinned to chests, and tucked under hair ribbons.

You, as well, was wearing a Pluie Lotus in your hair, which was tied up in a bun. You were wearing the old ballgown you had worn previous months ago, as the dress you had brought with you originally was more suited for a tea party than a ball. Justine had been quite incensed. “The next time I see him, I’m definitely going to tell him to buy you a closet full of gowns,” she declared.

The birthday girl was, of course, the center of attention. Right now, she was dancing with Dominic, her blithe laughter reaching the veranda where you were resting. The bottom of her skirts occasionally lifted off the floor, showing off her new shoes. You had given her your present before heading out to the assembly-hall, and she had wrapped you in a tight embrace and showered you with a profusion of thank-yous.

She and Dominic appeared to have grown even closer in the months since you last saw them together. He seemed to hold a genuine affection for her. It wouldn’t shock you if they ended up engaged to each other by the end of the year. That was certainly what your mother was hoping for. Though, from what you gathered from her conversations with her friends, there was some opposition from Dominic’s relatives, who looked down on your family’s small fortune and lack of connections.

Hmm, come to think of it, did she mean for me to overhear that part?

You were mostly busy with helping your mother coordinate the servants and helping with the guests (despite the fact that this was supposed to be a celebration for you as well), but you had already danced your fair share with two of Dominic’s friends, who quickly became popular with the young ladies in attendance. It wasn’t hard to see why--they were handsome and amiable. Even you thought that if you had met them a few years ago, you probably would have fallen in love with them by the end of the night.

You weren’t wild for dancing like Justine and her friends, but it was nice to enjoy it for once without having the ever-present burden of searching for potential husbands on your mind.

Surprisingly, you were enjoying yourself. The refreshments were tasty, the atmosphere was relaxing, and the company, which consisted mainly of your few relatives, family friends, and your sister’s many friends and their families, was similarly pleasant. Most people here were under the impression that you moved to the city in order to take part in the social season. Now, if only your best friend Anne were here, it would all be just perfect...

You leaned against the banister and tilted your head back, gazing up at the bright moon. You were enjoying yourself, yes, but being around family friends and neighbors always had an odd way of tiring you out faster than climbing the hills near the town or trekking all the way to the ruins.

I wonder what’s he doing right now...

The thought was accompanied by a twinge of guilt. In Fontaine, dancing was considered a social activity much like going to the theater. There was nothing inherently romantic about it, and this was a ball, after all--it was to be expected. Besides, it was the perfect chance for networking. In your future line of work, forming connections was everything. And...why does it feel like I’m justifying cheating?

You shook your head to clear it. Really, the only incriminating thing here was that you were at a ball without Neuvillette’s knowledge, and even that was debatable. And I am planning on telling him about all of this after I come home.

As a part of her harebrained scheme to “make Monsieur Neuvillette jealous,” Justine took pictures of you when you danced. You told her that there was no way that a mature and levelheaded man like him would get jealous over the horrible transgression of you dancing at a ball held by your own family, but she dismissed your objections. “My romance intuition is saying otherwise,” she said, and that was that. She, like your mother, was also a voracious reader of romance novels. “Once I get them developed, I’ll send them to him.”

Honestly, you had no idea what went on in that girl’s mind sometimes. You made a mental note to apologize to Neuvillette in advance once you returned.

“Aah...” you let out a yawn, feeling strangely tired. It felt like centuries since you participated in a function with so many people. Having to talk to so many people and smile and remember what you talked about with them last time...it felt uncanny and surreal to do those things. It was like putting on an old sweater after a long period of time but finding that it didn’t fit quite right. At least they lost interest after you mostly gave them vague, noncommittal answers.

It’s like one of those old tales where the protagonist returns home after spending half the year in fairyland and finds herself unable to cope with her mundane life.

As soon as that thought flitted across your mind, you laughed at yourself. What a ridiculous comparison!You had simply grown too accustomed to living in Neuvillette’s quiet house and only going out when you felt like it.

To everyone here, you were still the plain and taciturn baron’s daughter, and you had no desire to change that impression. There was comfort in being who everyone thought you were and not straying from it. But there was a small part of you that wondered just what would happen if you told everyone that you were the Iudex’s wife. You were almost tempted, just to see their reactions. The keyword was “almost.”

You had never carried a secret like this before. It was nerve-wracking, thrilling, and also lonely. It felt like there was yet another bubble separating you from everyone else--protective, yes, but also tempting to exult in the excitement of popping it before having to deal with the consequences.

One of your favorite novel series as a child had been about an unassuming young lady who moonlighted as a brilliant detective. You had often wondered why she let herself almost get caught in nearly every installment--well now, you felt that you understood a little.

Maybe this is why masquerade balls are so popular these days? Maybe I could suggest to Justine about holding one for her next birthday. Hmm, I wonder if she’d be married by then...

You glanced over at the ballroom, where Justine and Dominic were laughing together. He seemed like a good-hearted young man who clearly had a lot of affection for your sister. As a choice of husband, he was quite adequate. Judging from the conversations you overheard, most of the guests agreed with you on that.

“My dear niece, here you are!” a harried-looking woman rushed towards you with three young children in tow. It was your aunt Cecile and her triplets. She was your mother’s younger sister. “I must go to the ladies’ room for a bit. Please watch over the children for me!”

“Sure,” you nodded, and she immediately left. You had a feeling she was going to be in the ladies’ room for a while.

You looked at the six-year-old triplets, who looked back at you with big, rounded eyes. They were two boys and one girl, and could be quite a handful. Their father was currently abroad on a business trip, so you pitied your aunt all the more.

“Cousin, when’s supper?” the oldest boy, Albert, asked you, tugging on the hem of his vest.

“Very soon,” you assured him. Honestly, you were wondering the same thing.

Albert frowned, and his siblings let out grumbles. To prevent something truly disastrous from happening, you took out three chocolate bonbons from your pocket. “Here you go,” you dropped the candies into their palms. Their eyes lit up, and they quickly stuffed the sweets into their mouths. You had been saving them for yourself, but this was a worthy sacrifice.

“I like your socks, Adrien,” you nodded at the ankles of the second-oldest boy. His blue socks clashed horribly with his suit, which meant that he probably threw a tantrum to keep them all. “Are those blue wavy things snakes?”

“Nope, this is the Hydro Dragon!” he wiggled his feet. “Auntie knitted them for me.” 

“I see,” you said. He was referring to your mother, whose skill in needlework was renowned in town. Knitting was her specialty, and it was something you could never quite the hang of, despite many attempts. “You’re still interested in the Hydro Dragon?” 

“Uh-huh. Could you show us your drawings again later? I really like the one with the giant fangs and horns.” 

“Alright, but only if you promise not to rip them out of my sketchbook this time.” 

“The Hydro Dragon’s a boring old crybaby. I’d much rather meet an Oceanid. They’re so much prettier, and they don’t make it rain every time they cry. It’s raining every day now and I hardly have the chance to play outside,” the youngest girl, Aimee, declared. 

“It has been raining a lot lately,” you agreed, but thought of Neuvillette again. He evidently had power over rain, even if he wouldn’t admit it to you—why wouldn’t he stop it? “But don’t you think calling it a ‘boring old crybaby’ will hurt its feelings and make it cry even more?” 

Aimee gasped upon hearing that and quickly looked up at the sky. There were clouds drifting across the moon. Would it rain tonight? One could never be quite sure these days. 

Just as you ushered the children back in, the bell for supper rang. Finally!  

The banquet hall was set up self-served buffet-style. The menu consisted of roast chicken, lamb ribs, salad, and Justine’s favorite desserts—ice jellies and cupcakes. The triple-layered cake was, of course, the centerpiece. You had to restrain the triplets from running over to it. 

Best of all, there was champagne. You sorely needed a drink. 

Aunt Cecile eventually returned, and as it turned out, you were sharing a table with her, the triplets, and one of Dominic’s friends whose name you didn’t know, for you hadn’t been introduced to him yet. He gave one look at the triplets and heaved an annoyed sigh and plopped down in his chair. Well, they can’t all be winners, you thought.  

For the next hour of supper, you busied yourself with helping Aunt Cecile feed the triplets, pouring tea, and going around the tables asking after everyone. The supper was delicious, and the cake, as expected, was very popular and quickly finished. Luckily, you had saved two slices beforehand for Neuvillette and Marie.  

Dominic’s friend didn’t say a word to any of you as he ate his food. You had heard him quietly scoff at the old but well-polished cutlery and china. His sour mood was so palpable that even the triplets, who had no shyness when it came to talking to strangers, visibly shrunk away from him. Honestly, why was he even here? 

In any case, after supper, there was more dancing. Slower dances this time, which means that it was time for you to head for the bench. I wish I brought a book...well, Mother will kill me if she saw me with one, though.

You stretched your arms and fingers, feeling sleepy. Truthfully, you really wanted to crawl into bed now, but there were still a few more hours to go until the ball ended.  

As you were doing so, a conversation between Dominic and your disagreeable tablemate caught your ear.  

“Gabriel, you should dance more. This is a ball, after all. I’m sure your mood will be much lifted if you danced with someone here. Everyone here is so cheerful and agreeable. Haven’t your parents been nagging you to find someone lately?” Dominic was talking to his friend, whose name was apparently Gabriel. Considering their vastly different personalities, you wondered just how their friendship started. 

“I highly doubt I would be able to find a suitable match among this crowd. I think it would be better for me to take my leave. Inform the hosts for me.” 

“Come on, just one more dance. You've only danced with Miss Justine so far, so...” Uh oh, you thought as Dominic looked around, inching backwards toward the piano. Unfortunately, you were too slow—his eyes alighted upon you, and he broke into a smile. “Ah, Miss [Name], just the person I wanted to see. Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine.” 

You reluctantly went over to them. Dominic’s friend’s frown deepened as he recognized you. “Miss [Name], this sullen man next to me is my cousin and friend Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Miss Justine’s sister,” Dominic said. 

“A pleasure,” you said, curtsying and trying your best to sound genuine. You had to keep up appearances for your sister’s sake.  

“Mine as well,” Gabriel said, bowing. He scrutinized you. “You don’t resemble your sister very much,” he commented with a barely concealed sneer.  

“So I’ve heard,” you said, keeping the smile on your face and looking straight into his eyes. Such insinuations had long stopped bothering you, and if some uppity snob thought that he could hurt your feelings so easily, then he had another thing coming.

“Now then, I think it would be delightful if the two of you got to know each other through dancing. I’d wager that you get along quite well. After all, both of you love reading thick, lengthy books. What do you say, Miss [Name]?” You didn’t know if Dominic was too good-natured to hear the insult in his friend’s words, or if he was trying to breeze past it.

Gabriel stared at you. You could tell what he was thinking. He wanted you to decline. So he’s enough of a gentleman in that aspect, huh, you mused.

“I’d be delighted to dance. It does make for some good exercise after that wonderful meal,” you smiled at Dominic. Gabriel made a sound in his throat, but his feelings hardly mattered to you.

He led you to the dance floor, holding your hand between his fingers like he was holding a dirty rag. You would be more offended if you didn’t find it so amusing. Maybe you were a little lightheaded from the champagne. No wonder he’s having trouble finding a wife, if he can’t even perform the most basic of courtesies, you thought, holding back a smile.

Of course, considering how you were in a similar situation not too long ago (and technically, still in), perhaps you shouldn’t be quick to mock him. Still, I would like to think that my etiquette is far better than his.

The dance began. Much to your annoyance, he was quite a good dancer, though lacking passion. Neither of you said a word as you spun around to the music. It was supposed to be his responsibility to start the conversation anyway.

“...So, you like books?” he said after five minutes of complete silence.

“Yes,” you said simply. As far as you were concerned, he could do all the work here.

“What’s your favorite book? Let me guess, for a lady like you, it’d be some lowbrow romance like The Lochknight’s Passion, right?”

He wasn’t even pretending to be gentlemanly anymore. Once again, you wondered how someone as warm-hearted and friendly as Dominic became friends with someone like him, even if they were cousins. Honestly, you didn’t even like The Lochknight’s Passion all that much, but you suddenly felt a fervent need to defend it.

“I beg your pardon, but I don’t see what’s so lowbrow about The Lochknight’s Passion. It may not be the most profound piece of literature in the world, but its prose is beautiful, and the author has clearly done extensive research into the era.”

Gabriel snorted. “You don’t read a lot, do you? It might have some decent, crowd-pleasing lines here and there for a romance, but it is still nothing but saccharine nonsense.”

Your partner, taking your silence for abashment, continued. “Romance novels are a waste of paper and ink. They are nothing more than formulaic drivel penned to satisfy the masses’ base desires and lower the collective intellect. True literature challenges, reveals, and exposes. Romance novels do nothing but coddle. It appears that Fontaine is far behind Sumeru in this aspect.”

For someone who professed to despise romance novels so much, he sure did have a lot to say about them. You, of course, didn’t voice that thought.

“Sumeru?” you repeated.

“Indeed. As a Dastur of Haravatat--the school of semiotics and linguistics, if you don’t know--I have the good fortune of being exposed to so many truly sublime works of literature and being a part of an institution that actively promotes them to the populace. I pity Fontainians in that aspect.”

“So, what kind of books do you like?”

“Philosophical treatises, poetry collections, historical texts. I am rather fond of The Fall of the Faded Castle, I suppose.”

You frowned. The Fall of the Faded Castle was one of your favorite works as well, and you also enjoyed reading history books. But the last thing you wanted to do right now was to agree with him.

You and Gabriel eventually neared the doors. He was still talking. Well, more like monologuing. All you did was nod and say “uh-huh.” Archons, this dance felt like it was going on forever. If only Anne were here. She loves ridiculous things...

Peals of laughter caught your ear. It came in the direction of your sister, who was sitting on a couch and surrounded by her friends. She had her legs stretched in front of her as she admired her shoes again.

Gabriel had turned his head towards her as well. His eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Who gave those shoes to her? I know it wasn’t Dominic. Surely they aren’t from another gentleman caller?”

“They’re from a family friend,” you lied smoothly. It was technically the truth, anyways.

Gabriel gave you a probing look. You calmly looked back at him.

“If you say so. But, I would suggest that your sister make it clear in the future if she is entertaining more than one gentleman caller. It would be terrible if a misunderstanding were to occur. It’s so easy for frivolous, flighty girls like her to ruin their reputations.”

He didn’t sound as though he thought it would be terrible at all. Was he one of the relatives who opposed the potential engagement?

But more than that, he had insulted your sister. Okay, I don’t care about being polite anymore. He’s going down!

Just then, the doors opened slightly, and the doorman slipped through with a look of barely concealed alarm on his face. He briskly strode towards your parents, whispering something urgently to them. Identical expressions of shock appeared on their faces.

A few moments later, your parents headed your way with the doorman. “My sincerest apologies, Mr. Gabriel,” your father said. “But I’m afraid that I must ask you to relinquish my daughter for a few moments.”

Gabriel sniffed contemptuously, but obliged. You hastily curtsied to him, feeling a sense of foreboding in your chest.

As you went to the door with your father and the doorman, your mother joined up with you, Justine in tow. She also looked confused.

Once you were in the lobby, the doorman led your family to a small sitting room. “He’s waiting in here,” he informed you, then quickly took his leave.

Oh no, oh no, oh no...

You should have known the moment you saw the doorman’s face.

“Neuvillette!” you blurted out without thinking. “What are you doing here?”

“Sweetheart, mind your tone,” your mother scolded, but it was automatic and half-hearted. She was also gaping at the tall figure standing by the mantelpiece, like the rest of your family.

He turned to face you. He was holding a package in his arms. When his gaze landed on you, his eyes seemed to widen slightly. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

“Good evening, everyone,” he inclined his head. Your family, having gotten over their shock, hastily bowed and curtsied. “I do apologize for my unannounced late visit. I went to your residence first, but your housekeeper informed me of the change of plans, and it took me some time to find the assembly-hall. I am here to deliver a birthday present on behalf of a friend of mine to Miss Justine.”

He proceeded to take out a small vial with a bow tied around it and presented it to your sister. Justine didn’t look at it--she was still staring at his face, her expression a mixture of disbelief and elation. She was trembling slightly. You had almost forgotten about her huge, unbridled admiration for him. Where has that bravado from earlier gone?

“This is a handmade skin serum from my friend, Sigewinne,” he informed her when she didn’t say anything for a few moments. “She also wishes you a most joyous and wonderful birthday.”

Justine still didn’t react. Fearing that she was having an internal freakout, you nudged her gently. That seemed to shake her out of it. She held out her trembling hands and accepted the vial, which she clasped to her chest.

“Oh...oh, oh, thank you so very much, Monsieur Neuvillette! And to Miss Sigewinne as well! What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. I love skincare items,” she babbled quickly. “I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life. A-And, I do apologize for the abrupt change in plans. Had I known that you were coming, I would have never held this ball in the first place.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It is all due to my own capriciousness for coming here despite stating otherwise.”

“It’s no matter. We can adapt. First, we’ll announce your visit to everyone. They would all be delighted by your presence,” your mother clapped her hands cheerfully. No doubt, she was thinking of all the ways she could lord this over her friends for the next few years.

“I’m afraid that I will not be staying for long. I only meant to give Miss Justine the present and take my leave after.”

“You’re leaving already? But you just got here,” Justine exclaimed. “We would love to have you stay.”

“Neuvillette has had a busy day already, and I’m sure he’ll be very busy tomorrow. Besides, you know he doesn’t attend social functions like this very often,” you reminded her, even as your mind reeled. You couldn’t quite believe that Neuvillette travelled all the way here just to drop off a present.

There had to be something else going on. It was better to get it over with now rather than later. Waiting in dread was the worst feeling in the world.

Neuvillette, sensing your gaze, turned to you. You observed him carefully. You could sense something like reservation, an unspoken thought, dwelling in the depths of his eyes.

It was in that moment that you knew. He was here for you.

The thought gave rise to a strange, ticklish feeling in your chest.

You turned to your family. “Could you all please give us some privacy?”

Justine pouted, but your father was already leading her to the door. “Come now, dear, leave your sister and her husband alone.”

She begrudgingly followed him, but then ran back to you. “Ask him to stay! He’ll listen if you ask him to,” she whispered into your ear before getting dragged off by your parents.

As soon as the door closed, you quickly led Neuvillette to the corner furthest away from it. You knew your sister well enough to expect that she would be attempting to eavesdrop.

“So, what is it? Did something happen?” you peered up at him, trying to read his expression.

“What do you mean?” his brow furrowed.

“You came here personally to tell me something, didn’t you? It must be serious if it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“It is nothing of the sort. I genuinely did want to give your sister Sigewinne’s present.”

“You could have simply sent it by mail. Justine wouldn’t have cared if it was late. She’d treasure anything you give her.”

“I could not do that,” Neuvillette said in protest. “A birthday present should be given in person, especially if it is for someone as important as your sister.”

It was just like him to say something like that.

“But that isn’t the only reason why you came here, right? You want to tell me something, don’t you?” you looked him in the eye. “Come on, tell me. Or it will torment me all night until I return to the city tomorrow.”

“...I can never hide anything from you, can I?” he murmured after a pause, then cleared his throat. “I had a rather trivial question that I wished to ask you, but seeing as how there had been an abrupt change of plans this evening, I deemed that it would be more suitable to ask it at a later time.”

Neuvillette took another pause after saying that. He seemed to be trying to find the right words. You waited patiently.

When he spoke again, his question caught you completely off guard. “Were you...disappointed when I initially declined the invitation to your sister’s birthday celebration?”

“I beg your pardon?” You couldn’t quite understand his words at first.

He repeated the question, then added, “I apologize for involving you in my own personal quandaries. It has been bothering me for some time. I understand if you do not wish to answer my question.”

Quandary? This is a quandary for him? Just when you thought you understood Neuvillette a little, he did or say something that made you realize you didn’t really know him at all.

Still, he seemed as serious about this as he was about everything else. You had meet him on that level, at least.

You strained your mind, recalling that day in your bedroom. It felt like an eternity had passed since then, even though it was only a few days (you still weren’t sure if you should tell your family about the meeting with Furina. In all honesty, it wasn’t something you wanted to revisit).

“I suppose I was a little. I don’t really know why I even asked in the first place, and I should have checked your schedule beforehand. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed signals. Well, considering that the private tea party was changed last minute to a ball, I think it was for the best.”

The furrow between Neuvillette’s brows deepened. It appeared that he wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer. His violet eyes bore into yours, searching their depths. You suddenly had the feeling that you were on trial, being compelled to tell the truth.

“I...I also thought it would be nice to show you around my hometown,” you admitted in a smaller voice. “Since you showed me your favorite places, I thought I might show you mine.”

Neuvillette was silent for a few moments. A rush of embarrassment flooded your chest, and you looked down awkwardly at the carpet.

“I see, so that’s why.” Something in how he said those words made you look up. His head was turned away slightly, and his hand was lifted to his mouth. Without knowing why, your heart beat a little faster. He turned to look at you again. “Then it is truly a shame that I came too late. Perhaps another time, then?”

“Sure,” you nodded quickly, even as you wondered when--or if--that time would ever come. “Um, is that all?”

“No, there is something else I wish to ask you,” Neuvillette clasped his hands together, a grave look on his face. You braced yourself for yet another quandary.

“Do you enjoy tea?”

“What?”

“I am asking this because I was recently given two boxes of black tea from a friend of mine, but I do not know if it is the sort you like, or if you like tea at all.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?

“I like tea well enough,” you answered. It was a staple at your household, like most Fontainian families. You preferred drinking chocolate or Fonta far more, though you didn’t say that out loud. “I especially prefer it with sugar cubes and biscuits.”

“Sugar cubes and biscuits...” Neuvillette repeated, as though making a mental note to himself. “I shall ask Marie to buy those items at once.”

“I’m looking forward to trying the tea, then,” you said. “So, um, does that mean you’ll be returning now?”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he nodded.

“But it’s such a late hour to be making that journey all the way home...”

“I can manage. Do not worry about me, Madame, and focus on enjoying your evening.”

Neuvillette probably commanded his own personal vessel, but it had rained recently and the winds over the sea could get cold. The round trip between here and the city took hours. If he had rushed here right after the trials were over, then did he even have the time to eat dinner?

All those thoughts flooded through your mind at that moment.

And besides...imagining him going home alone in the dark...seems so terribly lonely.

Ask him to stay, Justine’s whisper returned to you. You tried in vain to push it aside.

Neuvillette’s face was impassive. He was watching you expectantly, as though he was waiting for you to say something. Or as though he wanted you to say something. Maybe you were just projecting your own desires onto him.

But did that mean you wanted him to stay?

You weren’t sure. There were a hundred reasons why that would be a bad idea. A hundred different scenarios where things could go wrong. And yet, and yet...

A bag on the table caught your eye. You opened it and found that it contained two bottles of pure, refreshing water.

“Oh, did you bring that for us?” The bottles had no labels on them, but months of listening to his water lectures had familiarized you with his collection. “This is pure water distilled from mountain snow melt, right?”

“Yes, it is. I know it is not the most suitable beverage for a ball,” he said quickly. He seemed almost embarrassed. “I only chose it on the assumption that I will be attending a tea party. If I had known earlier, I would have chosen heated water from Natlan, or the rich waters of Fontaine’s waterfalls.”

“Pfft!” you smothered a laugh. He seemed so genuinely apologetic that it was clear that he had been fretting over this quite a bit. I really don’t understand what goes on in his mind at all, you thought, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. You suddenly had the urge to pat his head.

“Madame?” Neuvillette’s eyes widened. I know I don’t smile very often, but does he really have to react like that?

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to keep a straight face, and cleared your throat. “Actually, Neuvillette, your water would be a great boon to us, even if it is unsuitable for a ball. The only beverages available are champagne and this homemade punch made by my mother’s friend that tastes like grass. There wasn’t even any Fonta.”

“How dreadful,” he remarked. You couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Neuvillette, do you have any plans for the rest of the night? Do you need to go to work early tomorrow?”

“I do not,” Neuvillette shook his head. He still seemed to be waiting. Or maybe he genuinely was oblivious as to what you were about to ask.

“I see, then...” you took in a breath, feeling strangely nervous even though this should be the most natural, obvious thing in the world. “Then you should attend the ball. My sister...no, everyone, including me, would love to have you there.”

Neuvillette was silent. Did he need more convincing? Should you be doing more convincing? He was probably confused by you asking this in the first place, knowing how secret your relationship must remain. There was nothing logical about this. It was the complete opposite of that.

But you once made a promise to be honest to yourself and live your life accordingly. You weren’t sure you were fulfilling that promise correctly, but you had a strange feeling that this was part of it.

The logical, rational, proper thing to do would be to agree with him and send him back to your house to rest for the night.

But I’m a little sick of always being logical, rational, and proper. And I think...Neuvillette might just feel the same way.

After all, he could have taken his leave right after you answered his questions.

“Neuvillette, first, I want you to know that you’re free to leave at any time. We’ll just say you have important Iudex business to attend to. Who can question that? You can go to my house, where our housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard, will take good care of you. We have a detached guesthouse as well, so there’s no need to worry about privacy. No, wait, you should wait here so that you can ride our carriage home after the ball ends. But you are staying the night. There is no question about that. If you’re worried about people talking to the media about your presence here, then I wholeheartedly support you making everyone sign confidentiality agreements. But I do think you should dance at least once with my sister. She...admires you greatly, and it would make her whole year, maybe even decade, if she had the opportunity to dance with you. And, um, if you want, you can tell everyone about the water you brought. No one here has ever drank mountain snow melt water before. We get all our water from the wells. ” You were aware that you were rambling. That seemed to happen with an irregularly common frequency with Neuvillette. “Umm...oh, and it would be good for you to mingle with your people and all that. Lady Furina would approve, I’m sure. And--”

“Yes, I shall attend the ball,” Neuvillette uncharacteristically interrupted you. You could hear the mirth in his voice. “You’ve made some very convincing arguments, Madame, but you need only have said that you wanted me here. I am merely thankful that you don’t find my presence here distressing.”

“That would never happen,” you said, aghast, and found that you did mean it. Perhaps if it were anyone else, you would have been highly annoyed. But it was simply too difficult to be angry at Neuvillette. “Actually, I should thank you for showing up. I was in a foul mood not too long ago because of my dance partner. ...Oh, I’ll tell you about him later. And, um, I should apologize for...um, dancing with other men behind your back.”

“Why should you apologize for dancing at a ball? It is not your fault that the ball was already planned without your knowledge.”

“Yes, but still, I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. I removed my ring as well, after all,” you said, staring awkwardly at the painting frame behind him, even as you thought, See, Justine, this is how a mature man behaves!

“Then I shall do the same,” he said. You watched as he took off his right glove, revealing long, slender fingers, the silver ring glinting on his ring finger. For some reason, you felt you had to look away.

“I am worried that I’m not dressed appropriately for the occasion,” Neuvillette mused after he tucked his ring in his breast pocket and put his glove back on, looking down at his robes. More like he’s overdressed. But that reminded of you something.

Spying a vase of fresh flowers in the room, you headed toward it and took out a Rainbow Rose.

“Neuvillette, let me help you put this in your lapel’s buttonhole,” you gestured for him to bend down, which he did, and carefully threaded the flower’s stem through the buttonhole.

“Ah, yes, the dress code on the invitation. I had forgotten about that,” he murmured. His breath brushed against your ear, and you suppressed a shiver.

He straightened, and then his eyes flicked to your hair. “A Pluie Lotus,” he said. Lifting his arm, he reached out to brush his fingers against it. “You look beautiful tonight. I should apologize for not telling you that earlier.”

“I, I...” Archons, what were you supposed to say during times like this? “Thank you. You...you look beautiful too.”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette smiled softly, gazing down at you. His hand lingered on the back of your head. For a few moments, neither of you spoke as you stared at each other. The fireplace’s light cast dancing shadows on the planes of Neuvillette’s face. His lavender eyes and horns almost seemed to glow.

Perhaps you would have stayed like that for longer, if not for the rapid knocking on the door. The two of you blinked at the same time, his hand pulling away as though it was scalded. The spell--or whatever that was--broken.

“Now, let’s get back to my family, before my sister breaks down the door.”

When you and Neuvillette emerged from the sitting room, you found your family staring at you. Justine’s cheeks were puffing out, as though she was hiding a smile.

“What?” you frowned. Did they overhear everything?

Your family looked at each other. “Nothing,” they chorused.

In the end, it seemed that there was no need for anyone to sign confidentiality agreements or anything of the sort. For it appeared that most of the attendees had become terribly inebriated from a cask of wine that one of the guests brought with him in the time your family was absent from the ballroom. You doubted they would even remember whose ball they attended next morning.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), it seemed that Neuvillette’s surprising appearance had broken through the fog of alcohol somewhat. They stared at him as though a rare animal had trotted into the ballroom before peppering your parents with questions.

Neuvillette’s appearance at this humble countryside ball was given a simple explanation: your parents had sent him an invitation, and he accepted. That was all. It wasn’t as if there was any way to argue against it, because that was exactly what happened. They say that the best lies have the truth mixed in with them, after all.

The ball, which had been slowly winding down after supper, was reinvigorated. All the men were eager to introduce themselves to the Iudex, and all the women were desirous of having their own fairytale moment with him. The stampede to freshen up in the ladies’ room was a sight to behold.

The water that Neuvillette brought with him was very much appreciated, though you suspected that it was more because it was excellent for quenching thirst rather than its flavor profile. You also suspected everyone was simply too drunk to register his impromptu water commentary or too awed by his presence here in the first place to engage with it. But you couldn’t say anything when you saw Neuvillette look so elated at everyone coming up to him with cups and thanking him for his contribution.

There were a few guests who made snide comments, but a few “accidental” steps on the feet managed to silence them well enough.

Soon enough, everyone was clamoring for the dancing to resume. Of course, the first dance had to be with the belle of the ball.

Justine had foisted the role of photographer onto you. You stood at the edge of the room with the Kamera.

After spending an inordinate amount of time in the ladies’ room with her makeup bag and hairbrush, Justine looked more radiant than ever. She and Neuvillette standing across from each other under the chandelier was a sight that captured the eyes of everyone in the room.

The music began. The two spun around the dance floor, as smoothly as water. They seemed to flow with the notes of the violins and piano. Neuvillette was an excellent dancer, as one would expect. His elegant bearing and footwork, the way his coattails whipped around him as he turned (miraculously, he hadn’t stepped on them once), the chandelier light gilded his long hair, and the raptness of his expression, as though his partner was the only person in the room, were all complemented by the youthful, blushing beauty of your sister, made it difficult to look away from them. The room itself took on a mystical, hushed quality, as though this was a scene in a fairytale.

You told yourself to stop thinking and focus on finding the best angles and lighting.

There was a loud round of applause after the dance was over. The two bowed gracefully towards the audience. Justine looked as though she was about to faint on the spot.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Monsieur Neuvillette actually came here because he was attracted by Miss Justine’s beauty,” you heard one of your neighbors, Mrs. Girard, say to her friend nearby.

“Oh yes. Miss Justine is so lovely that I dare say she can capture the hearts of any man, even someone like Monsieur Neuvillette. Why shouldn’t she aim higher? Perhaps the baron will see one of his daughters married by the end of the year after all,” her friend commented. Luckily, Dominic wasn’t anywhere near them.

When they noticed you there, they didn’t apologize or even look embarrassed. Instead, they sidled closer.

“Miss [Name], what do you think? Miss Justine and Monsieur Neuvillette make a beautiful couple, don’t you think?” the woman in the pink dress said.

One thing about living in a small town where everyone knew each other was that most people had no reservations about talking about you right in front of your face.

“Oh...I don’t know...” you replied vaguely. “She’s still young... and they’re so different...”

“Certainly, I’m not saying that they should get married right away. But in a few years, who knows? I think a lively young lady like Miss Justine would be a good match for someone as serious and solemn as him. They do say opposites attract, after all.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” you said simply, wanting this conversation to be over.

“And it could be good for you as well, Miss [Name]! You would stand to benefit from the match and also find a suitable husband.”

“Mm,” you managed. I...did not expect this to happen.

“Wait, is he...coming over here!?” Mrs. Girard’s friend exclaimed, her hands flying up to her mouth.

You turned. Neuvillette was indeed walking in this direction. He was looking directly at you.

Panic inexplicably welled up within you. Maybe this is a mistake after all.

Neuvillette stopped a short distance before you. He extended his elbow. “Miss [Name], may I have this dance?”

You stared at him, your breath caught in your throat. Your first instinct was to decline. We can’t do this in front of everyone!

But that was ridiculous. Like Neuvillette said, this was a ball and dancing was to be expected. All the more so in this situation, since you were the sister of the lady he just danced with.

But dancing with him in public...it feels like we’re bringing everything out in the open.

Your old teacher’s words came back to you once more, brushing against your ears like a breeze. Be honest with yourself.

You looked at Neuvillette’s outstretched elbow, then raised your head to look into his eyes. The rest of his face was as composed as ever--but his eyes seemed to shine brightly, full of anticipation and--dare you believe it?--hope.

Before you knew it, you had slipped your arm through his elbow. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Sister, let me hold the Kamera,” Justine came out of nowhere and took the device from you.

He led you to the center of the room. The two of you turned to face each other, so close that you could almost feel the warmth of his chest. Wow, he’s really tall, you thought dumbly, as though you didn’t live with him and saw him everyday.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Justine chatting with the musicians. What was that girl up to?

“Madame, you seem stiff. Are you nervous?” Neuvillette murmured in a low voice that only you could hear.

“A little bit,” you admitted. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. “I don’t know why, though. I’ve danced with other men tonight and I never felt this way with them.”

“That is odd,” he tilted his head to the side, his silver locks swaying as he did so. “I do not know if this advice will help, but you should try your best to block out the crowd and focus only on me.”

The music began. You startled at the familiar first notes. This piece was commonly played at weddings for the bride and groom’s first dance!

You thought about going to the musicians to get them to change the music, but the thought flew away from your mind when you felt Neuvillette wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer until your chests were a millimeter’s length from touching. You could rest your head on his shoulder, if you so wished. His other hand took yours, holding it as though it was made of glass. Reflexively, you put your free hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not familiar with the steps for this dance. I-I might step on your feet,” you blurted.

Neuvillette’s eyes softened. “Do not worry, Madame. Simply follow my lead.”

Dancing had never been something you were interested in. You worked hard to learn the steps not out of any passion or even liking for dancing, but only because it was expected of you. You had never understood what it meant to be “carried along by the music.”

But dancing with Neuvillette was very different. You were suddenly aware of everything--the press of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his body, the way his hair shone in the light, his intent gaze upon your face. Following his lead felt like the most natural thing in the world, as though the two of you were one.

How could you care about the crowd when he was right in front of you?

Time seemed to stop. The background noise melted away. Until it felt like it was only the two of you in the room.

You found yourself wishing that this moment would continue for just a second longer.

But your hopes were inevitably betrayed. The music came to an end. There was some applause. You didn’t hear anyone comment that the two of you would make a good match or that you looked perfect together or anything of the sort.

You snuck a peek at Neuvillette, wanting to see his reaction. If that dance inspired any emotions in him, it didn’t show on his face.

But that doesn’t matter. Because that moment only belongs to me, no matter how brief it was.

The rest of your time at the ball was comparatively uneventful. For some reason, everyone wanted you to introduce them to Neuvillette. Much to your annoyance, you witnessed many too-flirtatious smiles, lingering handshakes, and thrusting of bosoms, but they didn’t seem to have any effect on Neuvillette. He was probably used to it. Still, they should remember who they’re dealing with here!

You also found yourself with the task of taking pictures as they danced. At some point, you considered charging.

“Sister, you should really stop glaring at all the woman he dances with,” Justine whispered to you at one point. “It’s getting obvious.”

“I’m not glaring. I’m just watching, like everyone else,” you protested.

“If you say so,” she grinned and flounced away.

Neuvillette didn’t have it as easy. When he wasn’t dancing, he was engaged in conversation. To his credit, he never turned anyone away and treated everyone with his customary politeness. You worried that he was exhausting himself, but he assured you that he was fine when you quietly asked him about it (under the guise of asking after guests, of course).

“At least have some cake. I saved a slice for you,” you urged him. Left to his own devices, he would most likely have nothing but water for his meals. With Marie away today, you doubted he ate anything that could be called dinner.

He stared dubiously at the slice of cake offered to him. Then, he picked at it with his fork and brought a bite to his mouth. “This is delicious,” he said, eyes brightening.

“Mrs. Bernard is a wizard when it comes to baking,” you said proudly.

“The moistness of the cake is just right,” he said after taking another bite. You stifled a laugh.

As he ate, three small figures slowly approached him. It was the triplets. When Neuvillette turned to them, Aimee and Adrien yelped and hid behind Albert.

To a child, someone as tall as Neuvillette would be scary, you thought as you watched him go very still.

“Hey, come on, introduce yourselves to Monsieur Neuvillette,” you encouraged them to come closer. They remained where they were, staring up at him with wide eyes. You had to step in.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, these are my cousins, Albert, Aimee, and Adrien.”

“Um...greetings, children, I am the Iudex. It is a great pleasure to meet you,” Neuvillette lifted his hand and left it hanging in the air. Belatedly, he bent down to match their heights. He doesn’t interact with actual human children much, does he? You’d think that with the Melusines, he’d have more experience.

“Can I have your cake?” Adrien said.

“You’ve already had three during supper. You know you’re not supposed to have too much sweets before bedtime,” you reminded him. “What would the Hydro Dragon think? You’ll make him cry again, and he’s done enough of that already, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you’re right...” the little boy said dejectedly.

Next to you, Neuvillette let out a small cough.

“Children, don’t bother Monsieur Neuvillette!” your aunt ran up to them and hurried them away amidst a chorus of protests.

“Remember to show us your Hydro Dragon sketches!” Adrien reminded you over his shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” you said to him after they left.

“It’s to be expected of children,” he replied. Then, after a beat, he asked, “Hydro Dragon sketches?”

“Oh, they’re talking about my old sketch books. I used to be really interested in dragons when I was little,” In fact, it was your amateurish sketches that led to your old teacher taking you on as a student.

“But not anymore?”

“No, I suppose I became more interested in drawing ancient ruins and knights at some point.”

“I see...” Neuvillette looked thoughtful. He turned to you. “May I--”

Before he could finish his sentence, more people came up to him. You sidled away to give him some space.

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher before turning his attention to the newcomers.

I wonder what he was going to say, you thought.

The ball came to an end at around eleven. The guests left in very good spirits. Their consensus was that Neuvillette was a most welcome addition to the celebration, if somewhat overly formal and distant. Some of the young ladies worried that they had offended him in some way because of his lack of conversation when they were dancing, but you assured him that it was no fault on their part and that Neuvillette was simply that kind of person (of course, you said this out of earshot from him).

After seeing the guests off and overseeing cleanup, it was finally time for your family to return home.

Since the carriage couldn’t fit everyone, it was decided that your aunt and her sleepy children would be sent on ahead, while the rest of you would walk. It was a short distance from the assembly-hall and your house.

Neuvillette had insisted on walking with the rest of your family, and so your odd little party leisurely strolled along the moonlit country paths, passing by vast meadows and shadowed houses.

As you half-listened to your family chatting about the ball, you found yourself turning your head to the side to gaze at the mountains in the distance. The moonlight lent their silhouettes a mysterious allure that wasn’t present during the daytime. In the darkness, the meadow looked like a silent and motionless sea. The scent of the air after a fresh scent made you want to lie down in the grass and close your eyes.

Even though you saw this view a thousand times in your lifetime, you felt strangely excited right now despite your general tiredness. It feels like something is about to happen.

“Madame, you’ve stopped walking,” you were interrupted from your reverie by Neuvillette, who joined you when you remained behind. “I would suggest that you stay in the group. It’s not safe to be walk alone in the dark.”

“I know,” you said, reminded of the incident. “I’m just admiring the view.”

Neuvillette followed your gaze. His eyes seemed to glow faintly even in the dark. “Ah, yes. It truly is a magnificent view,” he murmured, his voice sounding as though it was coming from far off in the distance.

“The mountains look even more spectacular during the day,” you told him as the two of you resumed walking. “If you decide to take another day off, you should consider spending it here.”

“I certainly will,” Neuvillette said. Then, there was a pause, before he added, “I do not mean to pry or ruin your good mood, but I couldn’t help but notice from talking to your parents that you haven’t told them about the assault you suffered previously.”

“Yes...I haven’t found the right time to break it to them yet,” you admitted, looking down at your feet.

“Why not now?”

“Now?” You looked ahead, where your family was in lively conversation with each other. “I don’t know... maybe tomorrow will be better?”

“I do not see what difference it will make when you tell them. In my experience, it causes greater distress when you delay such things. Do not worry, Madame. I shall help you with the explanation, should you wish for it.”

“Yeah...you’re right. I should do it now.” You smiled at him. He stared at you for a moment, then turned his head forward. You felt something warm brush against the back of your hand and felt braver.

You sped up a little to catch up with your family. “Um, excuse me, everyone. But I have something important to tell you.”

Justine immediately turned around with a gasp, a wide smile on her face. “Wait, don’t tell me!” she exclaimed.

You gave her an odd look before recounting what happened to you on that night. Neuvillette occasionally supplemented your account, mainly on the judicial side of things, and assured your family that the culprit shall be on trial in the coming months or so.

By the time you finished talking, your family had stopped walking and were staring at you in stunned silence. It was to be expected, considering what they just heard.

Justine was the first to speak. “I thought you were going to say you were pregnant!” she cried.

“What!?” you shouted. You could feel Neuvillette stiffen next to you.

For the next ten minutes or so, you endured a terrible scolding from your parents and your sister’s wails and persistent questions about the details (she had been getting into crime novels recently). Neuvillette, bless his heart, tried to come to your rescue, but apparently even the Iudex of Fontaine was no match for your mother when she was furious.

After it finally ended, your parents thanked him profusely. “Oh, thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for saving our foolish daughter who I thought knew better than to stay out on the streets after dark!” your mother clung to his hand. “I must apologize for her again.”

“The only one who needs to apologize is the culprit,” Neuvillette told her as he gently loosened her grip. “I promise to do everything in my power to ensure he faces justice for his deeds.”

“That Moreau is lucky that I can’t get my hands on him right now!” your father waved his spindly arm.

“You will tell us the trial date, right?” Justine asked Neuvillette.

“You will be the first to know,” he told her.

Knowing that the incident was resolved for the time being and that all the crucial matters were in the best hands, your family breathed a sigh of relief.

The lights of your house appeared in the distance. You were almost home when your father suddenly stopped in front of the gate and turned to look at Neuvillette with a serious air about him.

“Monsieur Neuvillette. I want to apologize as well. To be quite honest, me and my wife were quite suspicious of you for a long time ever since you visited us all those months ago. Did you know that we thought at first that you were playing some sort of cruel joke on our daughter?”

He chuckled after saying that, even though you didn’t think it was something to laugh about.

“Oh, yes, that’s true,” your mother joined in. “You probably already know this, sir, but there are all sorts of horrors that a young lady without fortune or connections can encounter in this world. We know, of course, that you’re a righteous and principled man, but we don’t actually know you. I hope you understand what I mean.”

“And yet you still gave me away?” you pointed out.

“Well, it is Monsieur Neuvillette, after all. And you were going to be a governess! Can you believe that? A governess of all things? Being a spinster is far more preferable to such a miserable profession,” your mother directed that last part to Neuvillette. He did not look at you, thankfully. “She lost heart after some earlier disappointments, but that doesn’t mean--”

“Mother!” you snapped. “There’s no need to recount ancient history.”

Your mother looked like she wanted to argue, but your father patted her on the shoulder.

“To put it briefly, we didn’t know what to make of things until you sent us that wonderful letter. And then our daughter asked for our family sunflower seeds, and that put us at ease somewhat. Now that we saw for ourselves how much you treasure our daughter, we can finally be truly relieved. Thank you, sir. We are truly fortunate to have someone like you as a member of our family now.”

Letter? What letter? Neuvillette never told you about this.

“There is no need to thank me. I am only performing my duty as her husband. I’m also fortunate that I was able to meet all of you through her,” he said. “I do hope we can continue this acquaintance for a long time.”

 “Of course!” They said in unison. Now it was your parents’ turn to look flustered. Oh no, they’re completely under his spell...

“My sister might seem cold and blunt on the outside, but she really does have a delicate heart,” Justine stepped forward, looking uncharacteristically serious. “If you hurt her in any way, I’ll never forgive you.”

Neuvillette looked around at your family, then his eyes landed on you. You half-expected him to start walking away. You certainly wanted to.

I’ve been living in a fantasy all this time...

Neuvillette bent down so that he was looking at Justine at eye level. “As I have promised before, I shall spare no effort to make your sister happy and to care for her.”

“And you must never cheat on her or take any mistresses,” Justine reminded him.

“Justine!” you shouted, feeling your cheeks warm.

“But of course. I have no interest in any other women except for her.” Neuvillette promised her solemnly.

He probably said something so extreme because of the pressure, you rationalized quickly.

Justine let out an embarrassed little giggle when he said that. Your parents laughed as well.

“Invite us to tea some time soon, okay?” they said to you. You forced a smile and nodded. Your chest felt heavy. I just want to fall into bed and sleep...

“Ahem, anyways, let’s get the sleeping arrangements sorted out,” you said a little too loudly, before marching up the steps to your house. You suddenly didn’t want to look at Neuvillette. At least he would be staying in the guesthouse and leaving early in the morning. A little time apart was what you needed right now.

However, you soon found your hopes dashed. Three things happened at once:

Your aunt and cousins were already staying in your room. “The guesthouse is, of course, the only suitable place for someone of Monsieur Neuvillette’s stature to stay,” Mrs. Bernard said.

Your sister was inviting some of her friends over for a sleepover, so you couldn’t stay in her room either. “Sorry about that, it was a bit of a last minute decision,” Justine gave you a wink.

Therefore, it was decided (against your fervent protests) that you would be sharing the same bed as Monsieur Neuvillette for the night. “It’s only one night, dear,” your mother told you. “Sharing the same bed as your husband is not exactly the worst predicament in the world.”

Oh, it is. It most certainly is.

And that was how you ended in the small guesthouse with Neuvillette.

“Madame...Madame!” Neuvillette’s voice came to you from far away. You snapped your head up and found yourself on the receiving end of Neuvillette’s worried gaze. It was then that you realized that you were breathing heavily through your nostrils.

“Pardon me. I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat it?” you gritted through your teeth, trying to fight the rising urge to run out of the guesthouse and scream into the darkness. You honestly needed to have a talk with your parents for indulging Justine far too much sometimes, and talk to Justine for her propensity of toying with people just for her own amusement.

Neuvillette stared at you for a long moment. He looked disturbed, like he was witnessing something terrifying But right now, you were too angry and frustrated to smooth your face into its usual composed expression.

“My apologies, Madame. It seems I made the wrong choice. I shall thank your parents for their kindness, and then take my leave.”

“No!” you exclaimed with more force than you intended and tugged on his cuff. “This isn’t your fault. It’s my family’s. This is just something we’ll have to put up with. We’re mature, responsible adults. Nothing except sleeping will happen in this room tonight.”

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

“Neither did I. After all, we are mature, responsible adults who would never even think of doing anything inappropriate.”

“...Yes, of course,” There was a pause before he spoke. Something in his eyes flickered. It was almost like guilt. That’s weird, you thought, but moved on.

“If we make a big fuss over this, we would only be providing amusement for my family. Therefore, we will act like normal.”

“We will,” he nodded.

“Good. I am saying all of this out loud so that we are both on the same page.” It felt a little ridiculous telling Neuvillette of all people how to behave, but really, this was more for the sake of calming your nerves than anything else.

The bed was neatly made and the pillows were fluffed. Two changes of clothes for you and Neuvillette laid upon it. You recognized the lace of your nightgown, and the other one must be your grandfather’s old clothes--they were the only ones that would fit a man of Neuvillette’s stature. The linen closet held towels and bathrobes. The toiletries were neatly lined up on the bathroom sink.

“So...I’ll let you use the bathroom first,” you said.

“No, Madame, I insist that you shall bathe first.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You had a feeling this back-and-forth would go on for a long time if you let it.

You grabbed a towel and bathrobe, then turned around to get your nightgown when you froze.

Neuvillette was sitting on the chair next to the bed, unbuttoning his spats. He had already taken off his gloves and placed them on the bedside table. His long, pale fingers nimbly undid each of the small buttons, one by one. You watched him for a moment, transfixed.

He looked up from his work. “Is something the matter, Madame?” he asked.

“No, it’s nothing,” you said quickly as you realized you had been staring. “I won’t take long.”

With that, you went to the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind you. You leaned against the door, sighing. You didn’t need to look into the mirror to see how flustered you looked.

You washed the makeup off your face, scrubbing it much harder than necessary, then undid the pins in your hair. You then proceeded to undo the lacing on the back of your dress when you ran into a major problem--it was nearly impossible for you to do it on your own.

You frowned at yourself in the mirror. This dress was one of the new clothes you bought in the Court. Justine had helped you lace it up before the ball, but with your current sleeping arrangements...

You looked at the door, then back at yourself in the mirror. You briefly considered using scissors, but decided against it. It was too drastic an action, and you did like this dress.

There was no other choice.

Taking deep breaths, you slowly opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Neuvillette had taken off his spats and his shoes by now. He had also removed his robe and undid his cravat. You chose not to look at the sharp lines of his clavicle peeking out from behind his collar.

“Um...Neuvillette,” you took a breath before continuing, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly. Better to get it all out at once. “Could you help me undo the laces on my dress?”

“Certainly,” he said. You turned your back to him and tried to think about something else, anything else as he set to work. You could tell that he was being carefully, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible as he pulled the laces through the eyelet holes. But from time to time, the pads of his fingers or his knuckles would brush against your back, sending mini electric currents down your spine. His breaths ruffled the top of your head. Even with your back facing him, you could feel his steady concentration on you. Were there that many laces on your dress? It felt like it was taking an eternity compared to when Justine did them for you.

Or maybe...he’s taking his time on purpose? A small voice whispered, but you swiftly batted it away. Preposterous.

“There, it’s done, Madame,” Neuvillette said. His voice sounded lower than before. You clenched the folds of your skirt and reminded yourself of your own words earlier.

“Thank you,” you said, not daring to look at his face. It was only until you retreated into the bathroom that you realized that your shoulders had been tensed up the whole time.

Alright, I admit it--I’m attracted to Neuvillette. So what? Half of Fontaine is! Your heart annoyingly clenched when your mind flashed back to the amorous looks and flirtatious gazes directed at Neuvillette tonight. So what if I’m affected by his touch more than I should or that hearing his voice next to my ear make my knees go weak sometimes? None of that should change how I behave around him.

Your emotions had been all over the place tonight. It was more than you could bear. If your monthly cycle hadn’t ended merely a week ago, you would have thought this was all brought on by hormones. You had never felt like this before--not even in the deepest throes of puberty. The mass of emotions swirling within you seemed likely to explode out of your body at any minute.

A thought struck you. What if Neuvillette read your emotions? You didn’t know how he did it or what kind of information he could glean from them, but you were sure it would only lead to humiliation on your part. That is exactly why I need to get a handle on them, so that I won’t make him uncomfortable.

You ran the bath, then filled it to the brim with bubbles, and got in. The bubbles soaking into your skin managed to calm you down somewhat, enough that you could attempt to look at the situation rationally the way your old teacher taught you, laying out the facts like how you’d lay out your painting tools.

You were to sleep in the same bed with him. There was no getting around that fact. There were no other beds in the guesthouse, and you most certainly couldn’t ask Neuvillette to sleep on the floor. You yourself weren’t too enthused about sleeping on the floor either. So, the bed was where you would both sleep for the night.

Now, what was the problem there?

The bed was a queen size. It was roomy enough for two people to sleep comfortably without ever touching each other as long as they remained where they were. That was easy enough for you--you usually slept like a log. You couldn’t imagine Neuvillette being the type to toss and turn either. If he needed space, then you should be fine sleeping at the very edge of the bed.

Then, there was the elephant in the room: sharing a bed with Neuvillette. Like all young noble ladies, you were taught that you should never let a man into your bed if he didn’t intend to marry you right after. Of course, you doubt any etiquette manual in the world could tell you what to do if you were forced to spend the night in the same bed with your in-name-only husband. But really, when you think about it, wasn’t this pretty much the same as having a sleepover with a friend? You’ve slept over at Anne’s house plenty of times as a child, and vice-versa. Wasn’t this the same? Except for the fact that he was a man and the Chief Justice and someone you were probably a little attracted to...but those were irrelevant details.

Besides, there’s nothing between us. I admit, I enjoy looking at him, but that’s really as far as it goes. And I know for a fact that he has no such interest in me either. So, really, it’s just two friends sharing the same bed, just like me and Anne back in the day.

There was nothing inherently awkward about sleeping in the same bed together. If you thought of it as sleeping with a stuffed animal or something like that, then you could bear with it. It’s just one night.

Your teacher had always told you that perspective was everything. Reality is simply what we make of it. ...Though I don’t think this is quite what she had in mind.

You wondered what she’d think of this mess you had gotten yourself into. She’d probably find it funny.

Feeling sufficiently clear-headed and cheered, you finished with your bath and spent a few minutes cleaning everything up, then changed into your nightgown and bathrobe. After mentally bracing yourself in the mirror, you flung the door open. Maybe with a bit too much force, because Neuvillette’s head shot up from where he was sitting in the armchair.

“Neuvillette, the bath’s all yours. If you need any help with working it, just let me know,” you informed him airily. When he didn’t respond right away, you prompted him. “Neuvillette?”

“...Hmm? Ah, thank you, Madame, I shall not be long,” Neuvillette shook his head, as though clearing it, and quickly strode into the bathroom with his change of clothes. You noticed that he didn’t look at you as he passed by. What a gentleman.

Right after he closed the door, you slipped into bed. As you thought, there was plenty of room for both you and him to sleep comfortably while maintaining a respectful distance from each other. Now all you had to do was work on falling asleep. You considered going to the kitchen and getting a warm glass of milk, but decided against it. Maybe I’ll just count sheep.

However, your efforts were continuously waylaid by the music from the ball looping around in your head. It remained stuck in your head even when you changed tactics to count the number of spots in the ceiling. Come on, concentrate, I want to fall asleep before Neuv--

The bathroom door opened just then, and all hopes of falling asleep flew out of your mind.

Your grandfather’s old clothes fit Neuvillette remarkably well. Yet, for some strange inexplicable reason, he had opted to unbutton the top few buttons, exposing a sliver of pale chest. Don’t look don’t look don’t look! You chanted inside your head, yet your eyes had other ideas.

You had never noticed it before, but the layers he usually wore concealed his lithe, willowy build. He seemed almost delicate and ethereal, like a breeze could blow him away. You now understood why he put up with such an impractical outfit most of the time.

He looked different with his hair unbound as well. The long silver waves streamed down his back like a waterfall, lending him a wild, untamed impression. He looked less like a Chief Justice and more like a cover model for one of those cheesy paperback romances, except for the fact he wasn’t shirtless. It was incredible what a simple change in hairstyle could do.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. You lamented inside your head. You were very tempted to run back inside your house and squeeze into Justine’s bed. You’d even put up with the triplets kicking you in the face during the night. But you knew you couldn’t do that. I am a mature, sensible woman with principles, you told yourself firmly. I will simply...not look at him for the rest of the night.

You turned your back towards him as he walked to the other side of the bed, trying to calm your breathing. However, when you didn’t sense him getting into bed, you dared to slowly turn around to see what was going on.

He was sitting in the armchair. his hands clasped in his lap. When he saw you looking at him, he quickly turned his gaze to the floor. That’s a little excessive, isn’t it? This isn’t the first time he saw me lying in bed.

“Neuvillette, why aren’t you getting in bed? Did you wash your hair?”

“I have not.” His answer was curt.

“Then you should come to bed. Look, there’s plenty of room for you,” you lifted the corner of the comforter and patted the bedspread next to you. He eyed it warily, as though you had laid a trap there.

“I think...it would be more appropriate if I were to join you after you fall asleep, Madame. It would be more comfortable for you as well, I’m sure. Do feel free to turn off the lights.” Neuvillette sounded strange. You didn’t think you had ever heard him like this before.

“But, doesn’t that mean you’ll be watching me sleep?” you pointed out. From the look on his face, you could tell that he hadn’t thought of that. “And you have to leave early tomorrow, right? You should get plenty of rest.”

“I am used to staying awake at late hours.”

Now that made you frown. “I won’t be able to sleep well if you don’t sleep,” you told him. “I’m also used to staying up late, so I don’t mind. I can just sleep on the boat ride back tomorrow.”

There was a long silence before he slowly got up and approached the bed. He gingerly laid down and turned his back to you. Even from here, you could see his tensed shoulder muscles. Which were quite broad.

Lady Furina said he never had relationships before...does that also include strictly physical ones?

Now that was something you should not think while sleeping in the same bed as him. But still, you felt a little less nervous now that you suspected that both of you were in the same boat.

You studied his horns. Was it uncomfortable for him to sleep on his back? Did he have a special pillow in his room? When you touched his horns before, they were solid but flexible, not like the horns of a goat or a bull. Did it hurt if he put too much pressure on them? He did say they were sensitive.

“Neuvillette, I’m going to turn off the lights now,” you whispered without knowing why.

You heard a “Mmm” and turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. The only light now came from the moon shining through the window above the bed.

The darkness did nothing to make you sleepy. You sensed that the same went for Neuvillette. You heard the shifting of the comforter next to you. He must be sleeping on his back now; with your eyes now adjusted to the dark, you could see the contours of his nose.

For a while, both of you remained that way, staring up the darkened ceiling. The image of fish in a can of sardines popped into your mind, and you let out a stifled laugh. It sounded too loud in the silent room.

“Madame?” you heard him whisper.

“It’s nothing.” Then after some thought, you asked, “Is everything comfortable? Do you need anything, like another pillow?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine.”

“How about the clothes? Are they fitting all right?”

“Yes.”

“Um...are you hungry? I can fetch something from the kitchen for you.”

“No, I’ve already ate. Your housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard, was kind enough to serve me a light meal when I called upon your house.”

“I see... I’m glad to hear that.” Something about that bugged you, but you let it slide for now.

“So, did you enjoy the ball? I know you don’t care for them, but I hope you had a good time at this one, at least.”

“I have. Out of all the balls I’ve attended recently, I believe I enjoyed myself the most at this one.”

“How many balls have you attended recently?”

“Three, including this one.”

“Wait, you attended two other balls this year? Why didn’t you--” your voice trailed off.

“I’ve attended one last year, and the other in the year before that.”

“Oh...I see.” You didn’t know why you felt so relieved. “I think...it’s good to attend a ball at least once a year. It’s nice to mingle with people in that sort of atmosphere.”

“Mm, I agree.”

“And it’s fun to dance sometimes. You did a lot of it today, though.”

“Yes. But some fatigue is worth it if it is to please others.”

“Haha, you’re such a kind person...” you laughed weakly. “So, was there anyone who you especially enjoyed dancing with?”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, you saw him turn his head to look at you. “What do you mean?”

What did you mean? You didn’t know why you were talking about this at all. But the darkness was a comforting shield that surrounded your heart. “I mean, if there was anyone who, you know, caught your eye. Balls are the most common places for people to fall in love, after all. I know you said all of those things to my family to put them at ease, but if you do develop an interest in someone, then--”

You stopped talking when he moved himself closer. The moonlight illuminated the strands of hair near his face. His eyes glinted faintly. His face was inches away from yours.

“If you doubt my faithfulness to you, Madame, then I shall assure you, no matter how many times you need to hear it from me, that I will never take any lovers or mistresses as long as we are married.”

“I wasn’t going to say that...” you briefly turned your head to look at him, then immediately faced the ceiling again. Nope, still can’t do it. “I was going to say that if you were to fall in love, then you should tell me so that I can move out of your house as soon as possible. I have no intention of being a part of any drama of that sort.”

For a moment, there was silence. “I shall be sure to do so,” he said. Was that a smile in his voice? You couldn’t tell, as the thought of looking at him right now made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

What about you? What will you do if I fell in love with someone else and wanted to be with them? The question lingered on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t summon the courage to voice it. Why had you brought this up in the first place?

“Speaking of my parents,” you quickly changed the subject. Dwelling on this topic made your skin itch. “What was that about a letter you sent them?”

“Ah, that. A few weeks after we wedded, I received a letter expressing their concerns about my intentions with you and wrote them a reply to reassure them. I’ve also invited them to my office, where we had a long and fruitful talk. I think it set much of their worries at ease.”

“I didn’t know about that. Why didn’t you ask me to join? I think that would have helped as well.”

“That was because...you were not talking to me during that time. Also, your parents asked me not to tell you about the meeting.”

“But you still should have told me regardless. It’s important.”

“I’m aware. I apologize. I have made many such mistakes in the course of our relationship.” He sounded genuinely disheartened.

“At least you’ve told me now,” you said consolingly. “I hope there aren’t any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”

You meant it teasingly, but the sharp intake of breath told you otherwise. “Neuvillette?”

“I…I must confess a most appalling deed I’ve committed against you,” You could not see his expression in the dark, but you imagined that furrow between his brows was quite deep right now.

“W-What is it?” His tone put you on edge. You began to wonder if you should escape from the room for a different reason.

“I…” he faltered, before rallying once more. “When I carried you back to your room that night—when you fell asleep in my study—I kissed your forehead while you slept.”

You thought you misheard at first. Neuvillette kissed your forehead? While you slept? You searched through your memories, trying to remember that night. You vaguely recalled being carried back to your room, but nothing after that.

“You did nothing else?” you felt strangely calm despite the revelation.

“No,” he said almost immediately. “I swear to you, upon my role as the Iudex, that I shall never overstep your personal boundaries.”

“But you kissed me on the forehead while I was sleeping,” you pointed out.

“Yes, I did,” he murmured. “I understand if you wish to cast me out of your house.”

You were silent for a moment, mostly because you wanted to make him nervous. He was watching you closely.

You turned to face the ceiling again. “I won’t do that. It will only bring scandal if I made the Chief Justice sleep outside in the damp grass. But what I do want to know is…why?”

“Why?” Neuvillette repeated.

“Why did you do it? Was there something about my forehead that made you want to kiss it?”

He didn’t respond right away; he truly seemed to be thinking about your question. “I do not know why I did it,” he said at last. “My apologies. I do not have a satisfactory answer for you. Not that there can be a suitable explanation for my actions.”

“Hmm,” you turned to look at him again. “You know, my mother used to kiss me and my sister on the forehead when she tucked us into bed as children. Maybe…it’s something like that?”

It was nonsense and both of you knew it. Even you weren’t sure why you said it. To lend him a lifeline? To provide an easy-to-accept explanation for this…act before you could think too deeply about it?

“…Perhaps,” Neuvillette said. You couldn’t tell if he truly believed it or not.

Honestly, I could see him kissing the Melusines’ foreheads to tuck them into bed if he lived with them.

The logical, rational part of you knew that you should be angrier at the violation of your boundaries. You should be scared. You should be not be wanting to remember the press of his lips against your forehead. You shouldn’t be thinking about his lips at all.

Neuvillette, why is it that my emotions always seem to not function properly when I’m with you? Can you teach me how to be as composed and in control of myself as you?

“Neuvillette, this doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you informed him in an attempt to gain back a smidgen of rationality, leaning closer. You had to admit, after being so flustered by him for most of the night, it was kind of fun having the upper hand. “You agree that, as the victim in this case, that I get to decide your punishment?”

Neuvillette nodded, a lock of hair falling across his face. His eyes remained on you, as if transfixed. He was hanging onto your every word.

In later days, you would blame the enveloping darkness, the gentle whisper of the rain that started before you knew it, and the champagne-caused headiness for what you were about to say.

“I’ll do the same thing to you. At some point, during the night—I won’t tell you when—I’ll go to your room and kiss you on your forehead.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you wanted to swallow them. Oh no, what if he takes this as flirting? Is this flirting? Does it count as flirting if there was no intent of flirtation? I better clear this up.

“I, I mean it in a strictly platonic way,” you hurriedly added. Good job on maintaining that stern aura, me.

Neuvillette’s gaze rove over your face before it briefly landed on your lips, lingering on your lips for a heartbeat, or maybe two. Then, he raised his eyes to meet yours. Something he saw there made him narrow his eyes.

He leaned closer until all you could see were his pupils.

“I shall await your visit, then, Madame.”

Early next morning, a certain letter from a certain Hydro Archon informed Neuvillette that she had kindly taken the initiative of clearing his schedule for the day to “give all the time that my dear Iudex needs to spend with his wife. No need to thank me!”

As for what happened after that, that would be a story for another time.

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[fumifooms]

I have a question about Falin vs. Hien, like if Falin had actually accepted Shuro 's proposal and moved to the Eastern lands, what would the relationship between Falin and Hien be like, does Hien only like the idea of Shuro, similar to how Shuro loves the idea of Falin instead of Falin herself?

Hien’s very professional & capable and her job’s everything to her, so I think she’d treat Falin like she treats her other bosses, with respect and fulfilling their demands as efficiently and cleanly as she can. After all, Falin would then be becoming the head of the household’s wife, the lady of the house. And as we saw with Hien becoming very detached and professional with Toshiro, she doesn’t have a hard time putting feelings and interpersonal issues or dynamics aside when it’s best. There’s also something to say about how there’s no personal-life work-life separation for her, she lives with her employers under their watch and her job is a status, not a contract. And unlike the others, Hien was born and raised there, not just bought and brought young, that’s all she knows. The other retainers, the ninja girls, are under her watch, they’re roommates, they’re peers but they’re also not— by being their manager and leader there’s another line drawn in the sand between her and the others. There are no relationships outside of work because there is no life outside of work. Toshiro was her childhood friend but he’s also always been her boss’ son, so she pushed him to be more worthy of his title like how she was, don’t cry etc etc, she’s always treated him a bit with that "remember our positions" attitude, so it’s no wonder that growing up their relationship just sort of naturally and wordlessly shifted into just that. Capability and good behavior is required from her, it’s her default and the way she was brought up.

Now, as for her feelings about it… Well, when she talks about it during canon she does seem to be bothered for one reason or another, or just struggling to conceive the idea- not unlike how she struggled with the realization that her and Toshiro weren’t happening.

One notable thing is that the relationship she’s imagining isn’t really- desirable? Explicitly it’s because of Toshiro’s father and Maizuru’s affair that Hien thought that she’d become Toshiro’s mistress, as his closest servant, and they don’t exactly paint a happy or honorable picture. It’s not desirable, it’s expected. That’s how Hien expresses it too, that’s what she expected, not necessarily wanted. But now that the expected didn’t happen she wonders if that’s because something’s wrong with her- if it’s because she didn’t fulfill her role properly. And that bothers her, the way it’d get to someone for who being good at what you’re assigned at is your whole life and purpose, the way that’s what you base your self-worth on. It’s unsettling, the way a clock that was supposed to hit the hour on time but didn’t is, the way an unspoken law of the universe being suddenly broken without consequence is. Honestly I do relate a bit to the specific situation of Hien, because I had a guy childhood friend growing up and I thought just by that token something might happen. Nothing happened and I was never in love, but it still felt like a very real possibility at one point just because, because of what people say and what shows show— either way, I think it’s fitting to say that Toshiro was an idea to Hien, the idea of family heir, boss and also childhood friend potential lover, without necessarily attaching feelings to any of those ideas inherently, mostly a sense of duty and that those "ideas", those roles assigned to people are very important.

So yes I think it’s mainly a self-worth issue if anything, and I think it’s something she’s mostly moved past, especially with being able to talk about it and reaffirm her confidence despite it and being praised by Beni, etc etc. Although like I mentioned in my Hien analysis, I don’t really think she’s self-aware in general. I think it just healed itself vaguely the way things you don’t think about slowly get digested and processed over time. So yes I don’t think Hien ever really loved the idea of Toshiro, in fact she sometimes calls him unfit for leadership and criticizes him, but I think it became a confidence and like, ‘my 5 years life plan just changed drastically because this didn’t happen’ thing. But yes maybe Falin popping up and being so unfit to be a Nakamoto heiress would clash with Hien’s need for rules, the very freedom Shuro likes about her being the thing that makes her a black sheep there— the type that the Nakamoto house stifles, where freedom and whimsy goes to die and be ripped out of you etiquette lesson after etiquette lesson- "Obey the rules and your curfew or a ghost demon will chase you with a knife" after "You still have so little feats to your name, are you really the great warrior Toshitsugu’s son?" I would love to see Hien’s suppressed resentment or sense of entitlement bubble up in ways not even herself fully understands, and like most things like that, she vents and hashes it out with Benichidori :3c Idk I wanted to give more alternate ideas and brainstorm but this is pretty much it to me I think. I could definitely see Hien being passive agressive and very critical with Falin, microanalyzing and voicing every little thing to "fix", if allowed.

Tbh I have beef with that interpretation of Falin-Shuro. Half because not even Laios and Marcille listen to Falin well, and because people underplay how much time they’ve spent together and the genuine significance of her to him. Toshiro only fell for her after a good while of working beside her, when she did something that reached to his feelings, and as shown by the little Laios-Shuro compilation in their fight chapter he did spend time with her, tried to take her on dates. Let’s not forget she had to save Toshiro from his nightmare the same way Laios did with Marcille, that’s already a lot of material to feel a connection with someone, showing that much vulnerability.

I’m not saying he knows her superrr well, but he did show genuine and consistent want and drive to get to know her better, did show genuine interest in her and who she is. Hell, "the way she thinks" is one of the reasons he lists for why he loves her! When she turns his proposal down, he accepts it with a smile saying "you can’t tie down a dragon", after all- that freedom is what he likes about her. He admires it and is happy for her leaving to travel around and finding herself, and really what a beautiful selfless caring love. The selfless love in letting go.

It’s not that the idea that Shuro loves his idea of Falin has no merit, Falin is pretty much pushed into an ideal by everyone close to her, but in their case it’s something I hear all the time and often pushed to extremes based on vibes. And honestly there’s an argument to be made for the reverse as well, where he’s the one who perhaps sees her the most, who doesn’t treat her as a little kid or a little sister to protect and talk over because you know what’s good for them better than they do, fighting over who gets to decide her future. Toshiro gives Falin a choice with his proposal, she turns it down, and that’s okay. That’s a whole other thing to get into but what matters here for this is that in early canon he was the only one present who loved her who was also willing to let her go for her sake, the man who rushed into the dungeon neglecting his health with inadequately prepared equipment, with his team he BEGGED TO HELP HIM, ASKING SOMETHING FOR HIMSELF FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE—

Who now instead of clinging to her and his attachment to her, who instead of scolding her and shutting her down for her decision to sacrifice herself, accepts it and wants her body and soul to rest, to be at peace instead of transformed and controlled against her will by magic— He is able to show the love in letting go, the care and strength in it. And that’s something Laios did have to learn, with its climax in how he killed Falin after the rabbit curry. Something Marcille had to learn, being ready to accept her death in the final chapter.

If you look at it any closer than "wow he fell in love like at once instead of slowly?" everything is stacked in the favor of his love being true and caring tbh. Even if she’s idealized, doesn’t make his love any less genuine that Marcille’s and Laios’ who do too. No shade intended and I don’t meant to read in any more in your words than what you intended, I just hope this illustrates well the differences between Hien->Toshiro and Toshiro->Falin imo! Either way it IS a very interesting parallel to draw. -Eyes suddenly shot open as I lay in the dark in my bed, haunted- The love in letting go, wait, like Hien letting go of her notions of what her and Toshiro should be… The self-love in that too, too, especially in her case. There’s something here…

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

pov you’ve just reread the yi city arc… except that clearly wasn’t ENOUGH because of course your analysis brain had to take over and search for parallels, so you have to go and reread and save the most depressing WWX scenes right after…

i’m fine :))

[aleximustd13]

My favorite pics of Nikki are without a doubt the ones where he just looks like Some Guy

[sysig]

Sick threads where’d you get ‘em (Patreon)

[akkivee]

bonds are necessary for the true hypnosis mic to be used according to rei!!!! so bonds not only negate the effects on the target, but also on the user as well!!!!!

[bigbuffjoonie]

SCREAMS

Okay now that I’m more normal, this fic was so thrilling! Going through the mountain pass I was holding my breath too! The feeling of dread just building up until The Splashes just -chef kiss-!! Loved everything about this and I cannot wait to see pt 2! 💕

The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

“Captain, this is a bad idea.”

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain’s decision. There’s an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that’s spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, “This is the fastest route.”

“That may be, Captain, but it’s not worth the risk. Haven’t you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There’s a reason it’s called The Dead Man’s passage!”

Keep reading

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[princessbrunette]

hi princess! I was just thinking about shy!reader ending rafe nudes for the first time 🫣 can u pls write abt it

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

he wasn’t expecting it. he thought he’d have to work harder for you to open up like that.

it was toppers turn to swing, the group of them playing golf at the country club. rafe scowls in the sun, staring across the hills in thought knowing his younger friend often took ages to line up and get a good swing in. just as he was wondering what you would be up to right about now, lifting his wrist to check the time — his phone dings with a text and he reaches into his pocket, eyes lighting up in intrigue upon seeing it was your name on the screen, with one attachment.

he clicks on the picture and freezes.

it’s a selfie, you sat infront of the mirror in your bedroom. however, you look askew — clearly hot and flustered with your dress disheveled, one sleeve hanging off your shoulder nearly exposing your tit and the hem pulled up around your waist. you’ve got no panties on, legs open with your knees pointing up and feet flat to the floor and in the image you’re spreading your sloppy, wet cunt with your fingers, a mess of your own arousal coating you. the image is paired with a simple caption — ‘please come to my house i miss u :(’

now you were shy, like — hardcore shy. shit, it took you a while to even let rafe touch on you and fuck you without getting overwhelmed and wanting to cry everytime he looked at you. he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“holy shit. hooooly shit.” he drawls, beginning to pace a little, staring at the image and zooming in. topper gets distracted, turning his head.

“whats up?” he asks as rafe types a quick ‘Give me 15 mins baby’ into his keyboard. rafe glances up, lips parted at his two friends, staring at him for answers.

“shit uh, nah… nah don’t worry.”

he pockets his phone, looking to start packing up his stuff.

“nah c’mon man, what happened?” kelce comes towards him with a friendly grin and rafe lightly shoves him back by the shoulder, walking past to the golf buggy.

“i said don’t worry, alright? i uh, gotta roll though. see you guys around.” rafe punctuates his sentence with a scoffed chuckle of disbelief, swinging his golf bag over his shoulder.

“did… did something happen?” topper shakes his head.

“look, i gotta go see my girl alright, said she needs me. sending me pictures of her pussy all spread out n’shit. respectfully, m’not spending another minute with you suckers.” rafe holds up his hands, biting the bait and telling them anyway. he couldn’t help himself, at the end of the day; a boy.

kelce laughs in shock and toppers eyebrows raise, eyes widening as he says your name in questioning confirmation.

“yeah, who the fuck else?” rafe collects his last club from the buggy, slotting it into the bag.

“what— she’s like, the sweetest girl i know. super shy though, am i wrong?” topper seems in just as much as disbelief as rafe, who shrugs, beginning to walk backwards away from his friends.

“so i thought.” rafe calls out with a smirk, arms wide by his side before he spins around to make his way swiftly to your house to show him how much he appreciated your little text message gift.

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹