#is she? or is it just normal in this universe to insult someone’s size as an insult regardless?

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads

Adrift In Starlight

space opera adventure romance

a courtesan is hired to seduce the soon-to-be-wife of a famous actor

a historian who’s focused on her career & has no idea her marriage has been arranged by her rich parents

after a museum tour they and two co-workers accidentally resurrect an ancient alien artifact and end up on the run from the law, traveling from planet to planet

pan nonbinary transfemme MC, touch-averse ace MC

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for "yelling" at my teenage sister for putting earrings through the ears of my childhood stuffed animal?

🤬🐘 <- cause that was me holding them when I found out lmao

So I (22 two spirit, I was 20 when this happened) have had Ellie (Ive used He/she/they for Ellie my whole life, they never had a set gender), a stuffed realtively realistic elephant, since I was at least 3 years old. He was a plush of big Al, the elephant mascot for crimson Tide of the university of Alabama. (Roll tide?) that my dad owned but eventually it was cuddled by 3 yr old me and dragged to my room and out of his man cave (which I don't know why he had a big al plush, we're from Ohio) never to return. I think she had a jersey or hat or something at some point but she doesn't now. Considering just how cuddled Ellie was, it's a miracle how good her condition is. No rips, tears, bald patches or holes beyond the plasticy coating on one of his tusks ripping off in a few places. I wasn't super violent with my toys and never drew on them or ripped them up. The most I did was put hair ties around her ears so they'd look like pigtails.

I've had Ellie a very very long time obviously and he means a lot to me. I very rarely cuddle him now because I want him to stay in that good condition. Well, when I was 19, I moved to Maryland to be with my partner and Ellie went with me obviously. 3 or 4 times a year, me and my partner make the trip to Ohio to visit my family, about 8 hrs away. I bring Ellie because she comforts me when we're there (Alot of traumatic memories are wrapped up in childhood home). Well, one time Ellie got left behind and I was devastated. It was gonna be at least 3 months till I went back and even though my mom offered to send ellie through the mail, i was not willing to take the chance that ellie could get lost forever in said mail so i waited.

Here's the part where I mention I have a younger sister who was 14 at the time. we have a good, if not distant relationship that is a much better place now. Here's where the problem occurred. I returned home after about 3 months after accidentally leaving ellie and immediately wanted to find him once I arrived. My mom told me my sister had been watching them while I was away so I went to her room. My sister then excitedly held up Ellie to me... Ellie's big ears were absolutely littered with my sister's (real) earrings. There had to of been at least 150 piercings in her ears, if not 200. I held myself together as best I could and very sternly told her I was pissed she'd do that, she knew how much Ellie meant to me and she should never treat other people's things that way.

I make a very strong point to never insult, scream or yell or not explain why I'm angry at someone. If I get so angry I can't handle my composure, I leave and gather myself then come back. I never insulted my sister or raised my voice but I definitely hammered how disrespectful and destructive this was to something that wasn't hers as I took out her earrings one by one. My childhood stuffie did not deserve to be turned into Swiss cheese and used as an earring display. If I had done anything like that to her stuffed giraffe, her stuffie, she'd have a cow. Once they were all out I took Ellie and went to my room. Luckily, they were normal sized earrings so the holes were very small and I can't see them if I don't look for them but it felt so disrespectful.

My sister apologized pretty quickly but my mom said I didn't have to yell at her (I never raised my voice but I was clearly hiding an angry one trying to explain to her) nor should I have said it 5 times in the moment (shes exaggerating). I'll admit I repeat myself twice or thrice in the moment as a way to keep myself from raising my voice or stewing in it if I feel like i haven't properly expressed my anger or I feel like the person wasn't listening. Everything is cool now and we dont really talk about it (it's not taboo or too painful to touch, it just doesn't come up) but I wonder if I over reacted considering the holes are tiny, not super visible and I don't think my sister did it to spite me or hurt Ellie, she was just young and dumb and didn't think about how it could mess up Ellie. Should I have held my tounge since shes my sister? She was only 14 but I feel like you should know earrings can cause damage to fabric when you're 14, there's no way she didn't know that wouldn't leave tiny holes in Ellie. I just think she didn't think of them as a big deal.

What are these acronyms?

[cao-the-dreamer]

@artsy-hobbitses Here is he, the boy, the gremlin, the feral critter, I named... Cliffjumper!

If Ben and Claude decided to swap their clothes, nobody would notice the difference… until Claude starts spouting Cajun insults and charging through the enemy lines with a gun three times his size. Claude is often defined by his urge to fight, his stubbornness, his daredevil personality, and his habit of literally jumping off cliffs (giving numerous heart attacks to his teammates), hence the nickname “Cliffjumper”.

Hanley/Hot Rod: Yeah, you’re definitely related. Claude/Cliff & Ben/Bee: Cause we look like each other? Hanley: *raises an eyebrow since he saw Ben knee someone in the balls and Claude bite someone else’s nose* Sure. That.

Having grown up in an all female household, he finds it pretty normal to wear skirts (and they’re waaaaay more comfortable and practical). During his calmer moments, he likes to settle down and mend his clothes (often torn because of his running and climbing), just like his grannies taught him. People meeting him for the first time often mistake him for a girl, which he absolutely adores and he decides to see how long before they actually realize on their own; it took a whole week for the rebellion to notice and he finds it hilarious (he could simply tell them but… nah).

He’s also a very good bait.

Starscream: What the hell are you wearing. Cliffjumper, with a very frilly, glittery, neon-colored dress: It’s my ass-kicking outfit, BITCH *effectively acts as a distraction, drawing fire away from the rest of the troops*

Although he pretends to be annoyed when people mistake him for Bee, he will go feral if anyone threatens his half-brother and, over time, starts to view him as the sibling he never had.

(He also definitely encourages Bee to release his inner gremlin)

More of his story below!

Jean Claude Frugé, or simply Claude for his friends and family, was born of a Cajun mother — as for his sperm donor, he is an “holiday souvenir”, and the one thing he shares with Benjamin/Bumblebee, making them half-brothers.

When his mother, Lucienne, discovered she was pregnant, she dropped her dream studies so she could keep the baby. To this day, Claude still feels like he wasted his mother’s life, and tries to “make it up” for her, no matter how much she told him it was unnecessary.

Claude was raised between the bayou, the rice fields and the farms of Louisiana by an army of aunts, grandmothers, grandaunts, and great-grandmothers. He learned English at school and French at home. At a young age, he was already a wild child and spent his free time running through the swamp and fishing all by himself, so he could bring food to his maman. Imagine an eight-year-old absolutely caked with mud, his clothes dripping swamp water and holding out a fish that’s half his size, while grinning despite the face covered in dirt. Lucienne couldn’t be mad at him when he looked so proud of himself, and the grannies encouraged this behavior by showing him the best fishing spots.

The town folks got quickly used to the child walking barefoot through the bayou, but it didn’t stop the whispers about Lucienne’s broken dreams; she had lost the opportunity to get out of here and study in a renowned university/city, which was a pity in their eyes.

The whispers were quiet, but Claude heard them nonetheless.

He didn’t know if his penchant from fighting came from the hurt these whispers caused, or from the paternal genes, but his fists and sharp teeth ostracized him from the other children. Although he belonged in the bayou, he didn’t belong with the people living here. At least he had his family and their gentle love.

But sometimes love wasn’t enough.

Thus he began to leave more and more frequently, going deeper in the bayou, learning how to avoid quicksands and recognize alligators in the water, spending time with the birds and climbing trees until he was so high he felt he could touch the sky.

Sometimes, he wondered if his family’s life would have been easier in the city; he thought he would probably be less lonely with a nuclear, intact family, and he cursed his faceless sperm donor for “running away”. The spite prompted him to look for any information about his progenitor.

He was surprised to discover his progenitor had made a family in one of the big cities, and quite disgusted he was a cop. He was unable to know how to feel about the existence of a brother, and decided to drop the research.

He didn’t want to shatter the peace of this family; they seemed happy like that.

He had never been so wrong in his entire life.

As time passed and unrest began to grow through the United States, the Frugé family took on an activist side; the house became a safe haven for protesters who needed to hide from the police, and the older women wrote down their testimonies, which they then hid in the walls.

They told Claude how powerful memories could be.

When the Clampdown started and more people hit the road, Claude used his knowledge of the bayou to guide refugees through and to Mexico, stopping at his house so the Frugé women could feed and clothe the Cold Constructs, Beast Men and other refugees. More testimonies filled the walls.

One night, as he was guiding three Cold Constructs who had fled from Texas, they made a remark about his uncanny resemblance with one of their previous helpers. He would have brushed the words aside were it not for them mentioning the other one’s name.

His half-brother’s name was the last thing he expected to hear.

Knowing he was risking his life for a stranger, he nonetheless decided to look for Benjamin/Bumblebee, with whom he shared a fight. At only 19, he joined the rebellion created by Omar Parvez (Optimus Prime), Jace Zayden (Jazz) and Preston Wan (Prowl); while it was a good outlet for his chaotic energy and thirst for danger, his true reason was still Bumblebee, but he didn’t dare approach him, fearing the anger shimmering within him would scare Ben away, like it has scared so many children before.

But at some point he had to stop running away.

Time only will tell whether or not the revelation of the lineage between Bumblebee and Cliffjumper will bring pain, as both boys have their demons and misconceptions about each other, but there is no denying a tentative bond is starting to grow.

(Bonus: His color palette)

[anghraine]

Would love to hear about your modern AU concept as well, if you're happy to talk about it :)

*the modern P&P adaption that is, sorry if it wasn't clear

Now that my exams are over, I am! And it's predictably long and rambling, so there's a quick summation at the very end.

Anyway, the concept for me is driven by two different gripes with US modernizations of P&P.

The first thing I'm grumpy about is how, although Austen famously prioritizes the experiences and perspectives of her female characters over the male ones, queer US modernizations (whether fic or adaptation) seem to skew strongly towards queer male experience. Individually, that's okay, but as a trend ... I do find it aggravating that m/m predominates so much over f/f even with an author as preoccupied with female experience as Austen. Lesbian Darcy/bi Elizabeth rights!

My second issue is with the ... not universal, but not-that-unusual treatment of modern US American Darcy as conservative or at least old-fashioned in the context of 2022 (or 2015 or whatever—I think it's a bad take regardless, though particularly egregious now). This is generally a way of "updating" his snobbery, but ... the original character's positions are fairly progressive for his time and circumstances, if with a blind spot about socioeconomics, and his tastes are modern.

Funnily enough, that is probably the easiest thing to translate into a modern US setting despite many other cultural differences, because "fairly progressive with a blind spot about socioeconomics" is THE stereotype of US liberals and especially "coastal elites." And relatedly, I think the reluctance to update the direct political power of families like the Darcys and Fitzwilliams as ... direct political power is both an understandable avoidance of a minefield but also kind of toothless. The closest US analogue to a Whig earl in the House of Lords isn't some random businessman, it's a senator from a Democratic political dynasty.

Also, I dislike Pemberley-as-corporate-enterprise on general principle. I much prefer things like Darcy's open-to-the-public art collection to be represented by an art gallery rather than the visual equivalent of elevator music.

So. In the modern adaptation of my dreams, Elizabeth's family comes from a western red state, where they've managed to hang onto a small family farm thanks to the comparatively low cost of living—but that's rising thanks to rich people bringing up prices. Enter Bingley with his fortune in trade micro-chips or something (truly the nicest Silicon Valley bro to ever bro). The Darcy character is Bingley's college BFF, who is clearly wealthy because a) she exudes it, b) Bingley's sisters "mention" it, and c) she owns a good-sized house in Seattle and runs a prestigious art gallery there. Nobody realizes she's one of those Fitzwilliams until later, however.

The easiest way to convert Darcy's names to a modern US woman's is simply to swap them to Darcy Fitzwilliam. That said, I like to give Darcy a pretentious first name and amuse myself by calling modern f!Darcy Narcissa—both because of her arrogance and because Fitzwilliam is the only person who can call her "Narcy" and live.

I don't think the exact initial insult would make a lot of sense translated literally, but there definitely is one, and Elizabeth basically sees Narcissa as a cross between "rich artsy type with no concept of normal life" and "the Seattle chill given human form." Narcissa, meanwhile, is the sort of US liberal who holds genuinely progressive positions—some more so than Elizabeth, in fact—and thinks that The Community should do everything within their power for LGBT+ people in hostile environments, but also doesn't get why they don't just ... move.

There is also definitely a (male) Wickham whom Elizabeth is regrettably fooled by.

I think the tension between Mrs Bennet and Elizabeth is complicated by a few things. I definitely see Mrs Bennet as a pushy where-are-my-grandkids type, and as someone who can be fairly indifferent about her less-favored children's personal happiness but a total helicopter mom about their life/career decisions, which clashes badly with Elizabeth's easy-going but very independent personality. I also suspect that Mrs Bennet is a non-voter because, while she's not aggressively bigoted, she just doesn't care that much and insofar as she does, it's all about the parasocial relationships. Elizabeth can't ever talk to her about her life (or most things) without it becoming all about Mrs Bennet's feelings, so she doesn't bother.

Mr Bennet is pretty much his familiar self—he resents his wife and is openly contemptuous towards her (I imagine there's some reason that Mrs Bennet can't work or isn't about to). He's indifferent to his younger children, but fond of Jane, loves Elizabeth in his way, and has supported the last two through some tough spots. At the same time, he's never bothered to save enough to pay off the mortgage or put any of his children through college, so the girls' loans are a point of legitimate frustration for Mrs Bennet (though her spending is a significant part of the reason they couldn't do more, since "keeping up with the Joneses" isn't exactly a FAFSA income deduction category).

I have some other ideas, but those are the basic ones!

TL;DR—lesbian Darcy/Elizabeth with political undercurrents, but none of them are Republicans. The Darcy character in particular is a smart, socially progressive (but rich and out of touch) artsy Seattle lesbian from a Kennedy-style Democratic dynasty. Elizabeth, meanwhile, is chill and personable, bi, and very independent (to the dismay of her wannabe-helicopter mother).

[greatwyrmgold]

Ugh, is this how Oda redeems Pudding? There are layers to my irritation, so bear with me.

Layer 1: We don't find out that Pudding has a lot of traumatic experiences with people calling her third eye creepy or gross until after Pudding tears up at Sanji calling her eye beautiful.

And it's not like a third eye is something obviously hideous and disfiguring that we can assume that kind of backstory about, especially in a world like One Piece's where forearms the size of your torso or an egg-shaped body or a zipper-mouth or whatever's going on with Gecko Moriah are treated as normal. I know Oda's female character designs tend to be more conservative, but still, this is ridiculous.

My point is, we needed a Pudding backstory flashback before chapter 862 if this was gonna work.

Layer 2: I'm sick of "Your mild flaw is beautiful!"

Not much to say here. It's a pretty common way to try and add some conflict to a romantic subplot without needing to resolve any conflict. One partner (almost always the girl/woman) has some physical abnormality that she's self-conscious about, even though it's almost always designed in such a way that it doesn't affect her appeal to the lowest common denominator. After enough drama has been wrung out of that plot point, the other partner (usually the guy) says that he doesn't think that barely-visible birthmark or cool demon powers or iconic scar or whatever makes her ugly.

This isn't always bad; Shrek handles it well. From the start of the film, we see that most people treat ogres badly, either fleeing in terror or chasing them with torches and pitchforks. We also learn how Fiona turning into an ogre at night has affected her specifically, how it was treated as a horrible problem to be solved and how she internalized that. And uncontrollably turning into a big green person isn't cool the way that voluntarily turning into a cool dragon would be. Shrek-ogres are designed to look weird more than cool; some people think they look cool, but they recognize that this is far from a universal opinion.

My point is that Shrek spent act 1 explaining why people might not want to turn into an ogre and act 2 explaining why Fiona specifically hates her curse, so when Shrek says "You're beautiful" in act 3 it has an actual emotional impact. Four panels of people insulting Pudding's eye (and three of her stabbing some of those people) just doesn't have the same impact. Sure, one of those people is her beloved mother, but one panel just isn't enough time to make Pudding's strong feelings about her eye feel real. (Especially since that panel comes after Sanji calls it beautiful.)

Layer 3: Why should being called "beautiful" by some guy matter?

If you're the kind of person who gets mad when someone implies there might be sexism in One Piece, this is your cue to leave.

The idea that women are vain and care deeply about their beauty is a pretty big Sexism Point, and it's hardly unique to Pudding. (See Nami for a prominent example, and in particular that bit in chapter...471 where Nami gets distracted by how pretty the wedding dress that someone dressed her in while she was unconscious. Relevant)

Women being focused on the approval of men is another big Sexism Point, though it's thankfully one One Piece hasn't indulged in much. Still, having a woman instantly change her mind on something significant because a man calls her pretty is a bad look.

Let's go over what happened here. Pudding was all gung-ho for Big Mom's plan where Sanji and his family get murdered and Big Mom gets all their fancy toys. Big Mom is really important to her, and she recognizes thinks that Sanji is just an unpleasant idiot. Then Sanji compliments her once and she's conflicted enough to fall to her knees instead of shooting Sanji, which she was looking forward to just a few pages prior. (And most of those pages are focused on the wedding guests, not the bride and groom.)

How am I supposed to interpret this, except "Pudding cares more about some guy calling her pretty than she cares about Big Mom, when loyalty to her has been her only established motivation until this second"?

Layer 4: Charlotte Pudding

If you're one of the people who responded to my last Charlotte Pudding post with comments about how I need to keep reading (I'm 862 chapters in, of course I'm gonna keep reading) or that I'd really like where Pudding ends up, hello! I really hope this isn't what you were talking about, because this seems like more of what I was complaining about there.

When we meet Pudding, she seems like a kinda flat Nice Girl character, lying to save some strangers from Big Mom's police. It's a bit interesting that someone like that came out of the authoritarian Charlotte family, but that's about it.

Then it's revealed that she's actually not nice, she's evil, that Nice Girl personality was just an act. We're back to square 1, we need to rebuild Charlotte Pudding from scratch. This time she's equally flat, but also exactly what we'd expect from the authoritarian Charlotte family: A woman willing to do anything if Mom commands it.

And here, Pudding has a change of heart. A few nice words from Sanji have driven her to some third characterization. Maybe it'll be fleshed out, but I kinda doubt it. First, look at Pudding's history so far; he's not someone Oda has devoted much time to characterizing. He didn't even bother to explain the trauma triggering this crucial plot point until after it happened!

Second, I know chapter 1000 is deep in the Wano Country arc, and at chapter 862 the Whole Cake Island arc is far from finished. Sanji and the Vinsmokes need to have a reckoning and Luffy needs to beat up Big Mom and all this family drama needs to be wrapped up with enough time for the Straw Hats to get most of the way through another arc in less than 140 chapters. There's not a lot of time for Pudding to get her belated development.

Layer 5: Tumblr's Pudding fans

I'm not talking about the asshole who asked if I was dropped on my head as a fetus. I'm talking about the nice ones, the ones who encouraged me to keep an open mind about Pudding. The ones who raised my expectations enough that I could be disappointed. It's not logical, but I can't deny that that disappointment is part of why I'm spending so long complaining about this kinda irrelevant side character who Oda didn't think was important enough to develop properly.

That's the core of the problem, I think. Given all the pieces I have now, I can imagine a version of Charlotte Pudding who is really interesting. One whose self-loathing and devotion to Big Mom were properly established and explored. One who feels worthless and isolated. Maybe even one whose allegiance can change with a compliment without that feeling like a exist cliche.

But that's not what Oda wrote, whether because he didn't have room to write that without slowing the story too much or because he spent his writing spoons elsewhere. We got a character with two or three flat personalities that she switches between, without ever cohering as a gestalt whole.

She seems less like a person and more like a plot device. And now the big fight's starting, so that seems unlikely to change.

[thepinkproof]

The Operator

Synopsis: there is nothing normal about Greenwood University. however, the school is your only option. it is even more fearful when the person everyone told you to stay away from, Jungkook , is the one who won’t leave you alone.

parings: yandere! inhuman jungkook x reader/ overprotective sibling taehyung x reader

chapter warnings: murder, cheating, inhuman behavior, car crash

word count: 4.4k

series masterlist

chapter 09: origins

"I will like an iced vanilla latte." Taehyung said to the barista as he waited in line at a coffee shop.

"Alright, that would be 5.50 sir."

"No, i'll pay." A girl behind him informed. The girl was wearing a luxuriously outfit with black shades covering her eyes. She pulled out of her stuffed wallet an 100 dollar bill.

"I will also like what this man is getting, keep the change." She declared sending the barista a wink.

The barista looked at the money in shock, a big smile forming on his face. "Wow, thank you!"

Taehyung eyed the lady. He hated being someone's charity. "Listen ma'am, I don't need your money I can pay for my own coffee." He hissed.

"Wow Taehyung? You woke up on the wrong side of the bed." She insulted. Taehyung looked back at her with wide eyes.

"H-How do you know my name?" He nervously questioned. He hoped she didn't work with the police.

She took off her expensive sunglasses putting it in her YSL handbag.

"I'm Park Roseanne, you would be surprised what I know."

———————-

Storm anxiously waited on the couch as Jimin stared at his phone, urgently texting. He roughly put the phone down and stared at her.

"What I'm about to tell you Storm, you gotta keep it to yourself." He spoke.

She furiously tapped her fingers on the nearby table. "Yeah whatever Jimin, just tell me please. I deserve to know."

"It's a long story so get comfortable."

"In a nearby galaxy they were two planets. Bangtan was the first one. It is where Jungkook and I was born.

The planet was very outdated, I would compare it to the 1600s of Earth.

400 years ago, my great great great grandfather lived on the planet. He was a smart man. He was really into science, more specifically Petrology."

"Petrology, the study of rocks?" Storm asked.

"Yes, he would study them. Nobody really cared for his studies. One day a tower collapsed, there was rubble everywhere. The tower was barely used so nobody bothered to clean it up or reuse the material.

It was like he was the only one who questioned why a tower would fall like that. The building was always stabled. He decided to go to the tower to study the rocks and maybe see how it fell.

When he went to the tower he saw a bunch of kids. The kids were playing with this basketball sized green rock. When they saw him they ran off leaving it.

My grandfather decided to study it. He didn't understand what this glowy green matter was. He studied it for months, it drove him crazy.

Frustrated one day he rubbed his eyes under his spectacles. He didn't realized he still had the green matter on his hands.

His eyes started burning for days, it was like he was blinded. He passed out and was sleep for 4 days.

When he woke up he felt different. He could see now. His eyesight was way better, he could see from miles away.

As an experiment, he decided he would wash his face with the matter to see how it reacts. When he woke up the next morning he looked younger, like 10 years younger.

When he went around his village people started to notice how handsome he was now. This was a privilege because it was a new queen arising.

In order to marry the queen you must be the smartest man on the land. He was always the smartest but now with his youthful look he would definitely get the kingship.

The thought of marrying the queen excited him. So he did something that would possibly take away his life or make it better.

He injected the matter inside himself.”

———————

Taehyung sat in awe as he looked at Rosé. Rosé had rushed the two of them to a private seating area in the cafe.

"I can't believe Park Rosé knows my name! You know you're my favorite millionaire! Wait, are you going to hire me as your stylist!?"

Rosé glared at him.  "As if I would ever let a man style me. Thats not how I know you."

"Then how do you know me?" Taehyung questioned.

"Yesterday night I got a text. I think my suspicions are right as always. Here's how were going to do it, we're playing 20 questions!"

"Uh ok. We can play that." He retorted.

"I'll go first. Taehyung, how long have you known Jungkook." She casually asked.

Taehyung's face of admiration changed to a cold nervous glare. His hands that was presently on the table nervously went to his lap shakingly.

"W-Who is that?"

"Oh is that one of your questions Taehyung? I'll answer even though you ignored mines. Jungkook is an asian male who is 22 year old who resides in a private masion near Greenwood University with his friends, 23 year old asian male Kim Taehyung who majors in fashion, 26 year old asian male Min Yoongi who is a rising rap artist, 19 year old white male Lance O'Brien who is from Ireland on a Visa, he majors in computer science and 22 year old black male Ford Thomas who is the nation's best college runningback. Also has 27 year old asian male Kim Seokjin who is a butler." Rosé spoke almost as if its from memory.

"What the fuck! How do you know all this?" Taehyung yelled.

"It's amazing what a background check will get you. Oh and it looks like you used another question again, so i'll ask you another one

How would you like to get rid of Jungkook?"

—————

"When my grandfather injected it in himself he went to sleep for 15 days.

When he woke up his eyes were green and glowing

Just like the matter and just like mines." Jimin explained by turning his brown eyes into a bright green.

"He also could hear for miles away. He was stronger, stronger than any human and fast.

It was like he was smarter too. My grandfather learned information that helped them advance in technology.

The first thing he did was run to the castle and told the queen if they married he could make her live longer and make her more beautiful.

This was important because on Bangtan we didn't live past 40 years.

She agreed because her and the whole village was fascinated over his green eyes.

They both got married and my grandfather injected the matter into the Queen.

It was one problem though, they both didn't know how to control it. The blaring noise of every conversation, not being able to look at people in a normal sight.

The nightmares drew him crazy. He had nightmares of landscapes of another planet. It grew them both mad and the village were now scared.

One day a strange ship arrived on Bangtan. A lady named Lily. She was a beautiful fit lady with vibrant pink eyes. She told my grandparents she will help them. They would just have to follow her to her planet.

My grandfather knew the green matter was not from Bangtan. He accepted not only to get rid of his dreams but Lily had powers also. It made him trust her.

Lily brought them to the planet of Ringstar. Ringstar Planet was huge. They were very advanced in technology. Even more advanced then Earth right now.

That wasn't even the best part. Their people had bright colored pink eyes. Majority of the planet were women. Everyone on that planet was powered with the same powers my grandfather had.

The people of Ringstar have advanced senses, speed and strength.

When my grandparents arrived at the planet they were approached by The Queen and King. Also known as Shay and Ash.

Shay was the most beautiful person alive. She had dark skin which brought out her bright pink eyes.

Ash was very intimidating but handsome.

But the King and Queen was more powerful than the people of Ringstar. The king more specifically, he could read minds and move objects with his mind.

The most important thing? They we're immortal. They could not die.

They did test on my grandparents and discovered that a rock from Ringstar landed on Bangtan giving them powers.

They assigned Lily, the strongest warrior to teach them how control their powers and The Royal couple stated they could visit anytime.

My grandparents wanted to stay on Ringstar because their powers are more powerful on Ringstar. But the King and Queen refused to let them stay.

Years past by, my grandparents lived to be 150 years old. That's over 3 lifetimes for Bangtan.

They had kids and their children started to have the same powers as them. It seemed like the more decendants they had the more powerful their line would come. For example, my grandparents started to loose their powers slowly each time their children had children. It also seemed like every child born was more powerful than my original grandparents.

24 years ago my parents, The Prince and Princess of Bangtan got married. They then had me.

Since I was the newest born I was the most powerful on the planet. I had bright green eyes, super senses, super strength and speed but I also had a special power none of my ancestors had.

I control people's mind and I had the ability to charm people. I could also see people's happiest desire."

"Is that why I felt like I could trust you the first day we met?" Storm asked.

"Yeah everyone I meet feels that way. I was like a gift to my planet. Everyone in Bangtan loved me. My father loved me the most, since I was his firstborn.

My mom visited Ringstar to tell the Queen and King, Shay and Ash of my new powers. They were in awe and started become nicer to us. They even donated new technology to our planet.

My mom loved Ringstar she would always visit there. Her and Queen Shay we're close friends.

Then my mom became pregnant again. It was Jungkook.

Jungkook was very different from me. For the first time we've ever seen his eyes were purple.

Nobody in my family line eyes were ever purple, it was always green.

Jungkook was a more quiet child. He was a momma's boy. My mother loved him, I think even more than me.

The people of Bangtan didn't praise Jungkook like they did me. They thought his purple eyes were evil.

But Jungkook was a sweet child who was very smart. He always read books or stared at people.

Jungkook powers were more complicated than mines. It was like he was faster and stronger than anyone we've every seen.

Jungkook and I were very close but our mother was his best friend. Him and his mother would go visit Ringstar all the time.

My father however, he was stoic towards Jungkook. It's not like he didn't care for him, but he didn't show love like he did to my mother and I.

As Jungkook got older he discovered a new power. He could control people's mind like I did.

Since I got all the attention he would use his powers to control maids to get him extra snacks. You know nothing malicious.

When Jungkook was around 14, our mom was giving us a hug goodnight. When Jungkook touched her he discovered his new power.

Contrastingly to mine, he could see people's darkest desires and secrets.

He saw my mom's.

Our mom's darkest secret was King Ash of Ringstar, the true father of Jungkook."

———————-

Taehyung stared at Rosé. "What do you mean you can get rid of him? You're hilarious. That thing can not be ridden of."

Rosé chuckled. "Yes he can Taehyung, just listen to me."

"No, listen to me! Jungkook isn't normal he's like some vampire or demon or something! I don't know, all I know is i'm not trying to poke the bear."

Rosé let out an enormous laugh. "Y-You think Jungkook is a demon! PLEASE! Vampire? What do you think he's Damon Salvatore? Vampires don't exist stupid!"

Taehyung angrily groaned in annoyance. "I'm not kidding, that dude is like not human. He got like these purple eyes. He fucking punched me and I landed like 50 feet away." Rosé stopped laughing.

"Jungkook is an alien. Just like me." Rose smiled. She looked at Taehyung as her brown eyes turned pink.

Taehyung frighteningly jumped. "Shhh! Calm down Taehyung!"

"No! Are you trying to kill me?! I'll tell you everything just stop!" He yelled.

"What are you a snitch? I'm not the killer here, you are?" She defended.

Taehyung's eyes got big in shock. "N-No I'm not. Look, just leave me alone!

"You're a terrible liar, Taehyung. I've been paying attention to Greenwood's killings for years. I wanted to make sure if my pretty rich ass moved here I would be safe. This morning when I learned Jungkook was here I thought It was him but then I remembered.

Jungkook torture people to death. These killings were more out of anger and frustration. Someone who brutally and quickly killed. I look at your medical history, you have some serious issues." Rosé calmly spoked.

"Stop! I'm no killer. T-Thats not me."

"But it is. I also noticed that nobody kills like that in Greenwood for their first murder. I figured Jungkook was hiding these bodies in exchange for your loyalty? I researched your hometown to see if it was some suspicious killings.

None suspicious to a human police officer but I saw one that was weird. Over two years ago there was a car accident, the car crashed into a tree and went into flames. The victim was burnt alive accourding to an autopsy. But if the car was burnt, why was the tree ok?

Police officers are dumb. I researched the lady name and it was Lillian Cho. I was like why would Taehyung first kill be some random lady named Lillian Cho. Then I looked at your sister's birth certificate..."

"Don't mention my sister, you know nothing!" Taehyung yelled.

"Oh, but I do know her. Her birth certificate said her birth name was Cho Nari but when she was adopted along with you her adoptive parents changed it to Kim Nari, but you call her Storm right?" Rosé chuckled.

Taehyung said no words and just stared at Rosé.

"Apparently Storm met her birth mother at 17, but at the time you were 20 in your first year of college. Did Storm stop calling you when her mom came in her life? When she did have time to talk to you was she in a hurry? Did you hear the joy in her voice as she spoke about her?" Tears started to fall out Rosé's eyes as she spoke as Taehyung guiltily looked at her.

"I got a favor from a friend to send some of Cho Lillian's belongings once I found out she was dead this morning. In her diary she wrote, that she couldn't wait to travel with her daughter. She wanted to move her out of the state. This made you jealous, right? Your sister, the person you taken care of your whole life, the person that you loved the most was leaving you. So you killed her mother."

Taehyung sadly nodded with his head down.

"How could you? Why couldn't you be happy for your sister? Cho Lillian had a family!" Rosé cried.

Taehyung's guilt was replaced by a mischievous laugh. Rosé looked at him in disgust.

"Did she though? She left Storm when she was a baby? She was just going to leave her again. I did a heroic act that night." Taehyung grinned.

"She did have a family! She never wanted to leave Storm! She had a family! She loved us." Rosé sobbed.

"Us? Why do you care so much?" Taehyung asked.

"She was my aunt. Aunt Lily."

———————-

"Jungkook finding out about his mom completely changed him. He was now stoic. The only person he truly trusted had lied to him.

He didn't confront his mom about it at first. When his mom forced him to randomly visit the Queen and King thats when he saw it. The features he had alike with the King.

His opinion changed on his mom. How could she deceive the Queen into thinking they were best friends when she slept with her husband? How could his mom lie to his dad?

So he decided to blackmail her. He told her that if she didn't do anything he wanted she would tell father that he cheated.

My mother was too ashamed that her son knew to even try to stop him. Jungkook basically did whatever he wanted now. It was like he had no parents. He would travel for days, he would get the biggest room of the castle, he got everything.

Then one day he saw his grandfather's deepest secret.

He found out about how his great great great grandfather got his powers from the green matter.

This was a big deal. Our family always told us we were like this because our family was special.

The people of Bangtan only lived 40 years. His family lived well over 150. The green matter that they had still existed, but they didn't use it to help their own people.

They used it to keep the family powerful to be worshipped.

This disgusted Jungkook, it made him angry. He was no longer his old self. Everyone around him had manipulated him.

Him and I were still close but he was still closed off. When Jungkook told me the truth I was angry as well. It changed how we looked at our family.

But Jungkook never told me his plan.

The next day he killed my grandparents and took the kingship. He was only 15. His purple eyes now had dark veins underneath his eyes.

My family was scared of him. It was the way he killed them Storm, he was much more powerful than all of us.

My father was angry at Jungkook, he was devastated. That is when Jungkook told my father and I that he was the king's son.

My father's anger was now redirected towards my mother. My father confronted the King about it. The king already knew that Jungkook was his son. Apparently my mother and him have been sleeping together for years. The Queen of Ringstar was angry and felt betrayed.

My father was not dumb, he didn't try to fight the King. He knew the king was much more powerful.

They didn't do much over the situation. The King and Queen of Ringstar didn't care about Jungkook taking over Bangtan. The King did seem proud however.

Despite everything, my parents and the Queen and King stayed together.

Jungkook however was busy. He had divided the planet of Bangtan into two groups Abom and Pukkas."

Storm gasped. "Just like he does in Greenwood University." She observed.

"Jungkook has the power to control minds but that's boring to him. The Pukkas were the good people of Bangtan.

The Aboms we're the bad people. He didn't brainwash the aboms. He threatened them and manipulated them to do work for him. It was Jungkook's way of punishing them.

Some Aboms were so scared of Jungkook they changed their bad ways and joined the Pukkas.

Others didn't listen and faced the cruelest of deaths.

As for the Pukkas, Jungkook gave them the green matter making them just like us. The Pukkas of Bangtan started to live longer lifespans

My mother hated this. People no longer praised the royal family anymore. She hated that Jungkook ruined everything.

So she went to King Ash and cried saying that Jungkook needed to be stopped. King Ash was still in love with my mother so he agreed.

King Ash had a talk with Jungkook and said he needed to end the Pukkas and the Aboms and kill the Pukkas that have the power.

Jungkook refused. He told the king that he wanted to rule Ringstar and nothing will get in his way.

Jungkook knew that if he was on Ringstar he would be much more powerful. Ringstar's atmosphere supports his power."

"So that means you and Jungkook are less powerful on Earth?" Storm asked.

"Yes, Earth weakens are powers. If you think Jungkook is powerful on this planet, trust me, he is way more powerful on Ringstar.

Anyways, The King took this as a threat. He gave my mother a weapon. A weapon that can kill immortal people.

My mom thought if Jungkook was dead it would be better for their people. One day, she asked to speak to Jungkook alone.

She pretended to be proud of him making Jungkook let his guard down. She then stabbed him with this weapon.

The weapon didn’t work

This meant that Jungkook was immortal and could not die, even by the weapon.

Jungkook was so betrayed that his mother would try to kill him. The look on his face alone was enough for my mom to use the weapon on herself.

My mom killed herself and died. Jungkook was so angry, he knew exactly where this weapon had came from. He flew to the planet of Ringstar and killed the king.

This will now make him the King of not only Bangtan but Ringstar. The Queen of Ringstar was actually glad and happily gave him the throne. She thought Jungkook was karma for his mom and her husband cheating."

"How did the king die of the weapon but not Jungkook." Storm questioned.

"Think about it. Jungkook not only have power from the most powerful being of existance but he also have power from the rock. He is more powerful than the king. Its never been a being like him.

Jungkook also did the class system of Aboms and Pukkas on Ringstar. The people of Ringstar weren't bad people. So it was very few Aboms.

The people of Ringstar was scared of Jungkook. He was now about 17, despite that he was a good king for both Ringstar and Bangtan.

Jungkook even let me help rule with him. It was hard to run two planets so he gave me jobs to do. My father though, he was depressed.

My mother's death was hard on him. In his eyes, Jungkook killed his parents and his wife. He wanted Jungkook dead.

While Jungkook was busy running the planets he was looking at ways to get rid of him. He found one.

A less advanced planet called Earth. Jungkook wouldnt be able to find his back way to Ringstar or Bangtan. His powers would be weakened and the planet wouldnt have a strong or advanced enough spaceship to travel back.

While Jungkook was asleep he injected him with a huge amount of sedatives. Enough to kill a human 50 times, but for Jungkook it was like a deep sleep.

He put him in the spaceship and shipped him off to earth. When I found out I was angry so I took a spaceship to follow him.

When we both woke up we landed in different places. I haven't seen Jungkook since I've followed him. I've been searching for him for years.

Then I met Rosé, she was on Earth. She is from the planet Ringstar. Apparently she came down here to look for her Aunt.

The Queen sent Lily to go find Jungkook on earth and bring him back. Lily was one of the strongest warriors on Ringstar.

Rosé was looking for her but never did. Rosé and I decided to get married, not romantically but more as a way of sticking with each other for life.

Something drew me to Greenwood I had no idea Jungkook was here though. That explains it.”

"What the fuck? Rosé in on this too? I'm sorry but all this is beyond shocking." Storm admitted trying to put the pieces together.

"Yeah but Rosé has been changing she is obsessed with finding Lily." Jimin admitted.

"How is Lily alive? Didn't you say she was alive when your great grandparents discovered the rocks?"

"Storm, the people of Ringstar live a long time of they are on their home planet. The King and Queen are immortal but their people live about 1,000 years."

"So what are you going to do about Jungkook?" Storm asked.

"What do you mean what am I going to do with him? He's not a bad person just misunderstood. Imagine being born to think the worst of everyone. I just want my family back and Jungkook is the only family I have left." Jimin explained raising his voice.

"B-But didn't you say he killed people? He manipulates people Jimin. That's not good."

"He only hurts people who deserved it. His classification of Aboms and Pukkas have saved alot of people. This planet is literally shit! If you separate the good from the bad, the good won't get hurt. Jail and prison is not enough punishment for people. In order for a person to be good it must be scared out of them." Jimin explained.

"I don't know what to think Jimin." Storm honestly admitted. She was conflicted about whether to view Jungkook as an anti-hero or villian.

"It seemed like my brother has taken a liking out of you. I do too Storm, you're like a little sister to me. Which is why I'm telling you to don't do anything stupid." Jimin warned.

—————-

Taehyung was shocked. "It's no way, you have to be lying. Storm isn't your cousin."

"She is though and I have the DNA to prove it, unlike you. I loved my aunt, if you want to live the rest of your life then you're going to help me kill Jungkook. My aunt came to this planet looking for him and never returned. If Jungkook was never a rebellious king, nobody would have to go look for him!" Rosé threatened.

"Planet? Storm's mom was an alien?" Taehyung curiously asked.

"Yes, which will make her half mortal and half alien. She would be much more weaker than us but more powerful than an average human. It’s how I knew Lily didn't die by a fire, she would have healed. Someone had to strike her in her vital organs." Rosé explained.

Everything was adding up to Taehyung. "So that's why Jungkook is so interested in her?"

Rosé gave Taehyung a curious look. "What?! He and Storm are close?!"

"Oh yes, he practically almost killed me for not approving. He had Lance stalk her every move. That's not even all yesterday night, they went on a date!"

"Jimin never told me that when he sent me that text last night. All he said is that Jungkook was in Greenwood and that Storm knew everything." Rosé thought to herself.

"None of that matters. Storm will be away from Jungkook by the time that were done."

——-

AUTHORS NOTE: Dear reader, if you are confused fear not! I will be doing an explanation post, please ask any questions in the comments or ask question box. ALL QUESTIONS CONCERNING CHAPTERS 1-8 WILL BE ANSWERED. thanks

EXPLANATION

chapter 10

[antiloreolympus]

14 Anti LO Asks

1. It’s just so wild how LO fans in their “good intentions” says LO is “pro-trans” because of Athena?? Like first off, she’s not trans, but more so they’re only basing that off the fact she doesn’t look like every one hyper feminine woman on cast so they automatically assume she must be AMAB?? Like you guys know that’s more transphobic than Rachel’s lack of a diverse cast, right? Holy shit. 

2. I think a true test of proper representation is if the character was taken away and nothing in the story changed, then it’s not good representation. Case in point in LO:

- almost all the plus sized characters are unnamed background characters, so their removal changes nothing.

- Hestia and Athena’s relationship has no impact on the story, so if it was removed and nothing changes that’s not representation.

- psyche being black has no input in the story, and it’s purely aesthetics that was only added with braids. Remove that and it changes nothing. That’s not representation.

I could go on, but I think you get what I’m getting at here. 

3. The big difference between The twins act of wrath and Persphones is intent. They meant to kill those kids, and Apollo is probs Zeus fav or second fav kid (that’s a whole other topic and idk if the twins even know if Zeus is their dad since they’ve never called him dad). But because the twins intended to kill those royals in the name of their mom, it wasn’t hidden from Zeus and they were rewarded (is it right no, but remember Zeus is the judge apperently)

Persephone, lost control, killed a bunch of mortals out of her control, (at most it was suppose to be the ones that were destroying the flower grove but it grew to a whole river of souls) then with her mother and Hermès worked together to not only hide this from Zeus but also hades (sorry Fish king this isn’t your domain) so I would say Persephone act of wrath was worse. But even going more into it was her reaction to finding out someone uncovered her truth was turning them into a plant (oh sorry they also insulted the king of the underworld) and still lost control on them.

What Persephone AOW is, is Persephone being out of control contrstantly. She does deserve a real not community service punishment because she is a danger to others and has harmed many. 

4. there's a big difference between a prominent nose and whatever the hell is on lo hades' face. he looks like papa smurf and a sawfish combined and were put into a tumblr sexy man machine but the machine was out fo sexy so now we're just left with that thing. persephone has the most boring design ive ever seen but at least she looks kinda normal.

5. the only good fanart of lo was by that one shitpost artist who was making fun of the series by having spongebob as persephone and squidward as hades in that "do i look like a scoundrel" or w/e scene but Rachel retweeted it thinking it was a compliment. we will NEVER top that.

6. deadass its so stupid how rachel is like why do you guys keep bringing up the age gap its not a big deal!! like ok why did you spend so much of s1 saying it was weird he was dying to bone a 19 year old then? she seriously could have just made her like 300 to avoid that mess all together, or if she insisted she be 19 then just be like "oh thats just what immortals do" or w/e so it can be excused fantasy logic. you cant make a point its bad in universe then be shocked readers see it as bad too??

7. A lot of RS’s style of writing an drawing are the same for characters. Women are busty short with maybe a bad relationship or sexual history (Hera Persephone Minthe  Daphne even Hestia maybe) the men are tall with some form of mommy issues. Hades-oepedius complex, Ares mommy and daddy issues, Hephaestus mommy and daddy issues, Apollo mommy boy with issues, Eros mommas boy with issues, Hermès mommy’s boy, Thanatos mommy issues. It’s like there’s only a few type of characters who can exist 

8. What I don't get is you know if LO was set in Paris, she would make sure to be accurate to Paris. If it was set in London, she would make sure it's accurate to London. Tokyo? It would look like Tokyo. But for some reason, the comic being set in Greece in a time period with some of the most iconic architecture in the world is asking too much? She can't even be bothered to download basic pillar brushes, but we're supposed to buy she cares so deeply about the culture and mythology? Give me a break.

9. are we sure rachel isn't a harry potter fan? bc i remember when the movies were coming out it turned out draco's dad (lucius) was originally supposed to look like a cold business man in an all black suit, sleeked back white hair, and have really sharp features including a long nose. are we sure rachel didnt just lift that design and slap it on her hades. lo hades kid would probably be a little shit like draco too if we're being honest here 💀

10. i think the issue with how LO handles HxP[ is it removed only two-ish problems (inc/st and her actually wanting him now) but on top of that also added more toxic elements like the age and power imbalance, cranked it up to 100, then acts like its the most perfect relationship ever. if it was just honest from the start it was more of a twisted romance or "brutally realistic" that would excuse it, but instead it frames as the best thing ever & what its young audience should want. that's my issue.

11. how can i send in the whole webtoon /j

12. That submission also brings up the point of like … they don’t know about the tree or that it woke up Kronos. We know Persephone won’t be punished, so are we to believe it she’ll wake off free from the trial only to whoops, have to admit her lack of control over her powers is totally ok despite it waking up the biggest threat to EVERYONE? Like murdering a village is bad enough, but she can’t get away with reawakening a threat they so desperately tried to lock away. Hell, what if p’s powers made him stronger? What then? The whole thing is so stupid. 

13. LO fans are hardly the first or last ones to do this but they always go “it’s just fiction!! It has no effect on reality!!” And it’s ok? Then are did you make critique of it a personal affront to you? Why do you insist critique never happen of it? Why do you get into real fights, threaten, and dox others if it’s not real? Why do you refuse to acknowledge actual problems in your face works, it’s creator, and it’s fandom? That sounds like it effects real life to me!

14. Not a critique, just wanted to point out how pissed LO stans are by your blog. They throwing a fit over it and call you out lol. Keep doing what you do queen, it's nice having a place to actually critique LO. 💜

From OP: Tysm! <3

[crab-instruments]

Dust in the Wind Part 3 (tbb)

Master <Part 2 Part 4>

Pairing: Hunter x Secret Jedi! Reader (GN)

Rating and Warning: General audience, not much happens (yet)

Words: 1K

a/n: some notes at the end. I didn't think this would get any attention really and I did not know how good it would feel, so please give that little heart like to the fics you read (not just mine lol). I really liked Fallen Order so if you haven't played it and can, I would recommend it, but I'll be incorporating pieces of that game into my fic. I've been using italics for thoughts, if it's in quotes it just means it's being said at not a normal volume (like through a door or spoken really fast). If that doesn't make sense in the fic, it's something I can work on.

Image Credit

The reflection that stared back at you in the mirror looked like someone else. Your hands gripped the sink hard, in an attempt to focus. In your head, you chanted loudly your new identity. My name is Maxis, I’m a freelance mechanic, and I’m now… temporarily… a part of a crew I’ve never met. Kriff, am I insane? That question was rhetorical, the answer was an resounding yes, although this may not be the most outlandish situation you’ve gotten yourself in.

The necklace under your top felt heavy. You pulled it out, staring at the parts. Carrying your deconstructed lightsaber wasn’t the smartest idea but it was something you couldn’t let go of, even before The Purge happened. Most of the pieces were on a long wire that you wrapped loosely around your neck and it hid fairly nicely, looking like just random junk on a wire. The parts that didn’t fit on the necklace well sat on your wrists as bracelets. You tucked it back in and moved your welding goggles from your head to your neck, hiding it further down.

“That’s fine Hunter, but where are they going to sleep? We barely have space as it is,” a muffled voice came from outside the door, drawing your attention back to reality.

Hunter had stepped out leaving you in the small room alone, thinking that explaining the situation to the squad would better. It had been a few minutes since he had left and by the sounds of it, was still trying to sell the idea of you being here was a good idea.

Moving quietly towards the door, your curiosity got the best of you. You pressed your ear to the cold metal, attempting to listen in on the conversation.

“They can sleep in the gunner’s mount with me!” a small, cheerful voice piped up.

“That’s very kind of you, Omega, but we’ll figure it out later,” Hunter’s voice had a hint of favor to it, he obviously adored the child he who had offered space for you. He was probably giving her a small smile, the thought was contagious enough to bring a small smile to your own face.

“I would like to go back to the fact that we know nothing about this ‘Maxis’ or their past. They could very well be a dangerous criminal on the run, based on the story they gave you,” the very pragmatic voice cut through the rest.

At that accusation, you crossed your arms and pouted. “Dangerous? I’m about as dangerous as a bogling.”

Suddenly, the door you were leaning against had opened, sending you dropping to the ground. You shot your arms out, attempting to grab something to stop your introduction to the ground. Luckily, strong arms grabbed yours, steading you. Your eyes met Hunter’s, and stars, did you wish you could stay there. However, five other pair of eyes were on you. Quickly, you attempted to gain your composure and stand up straight.

“What was that about a bogling?” There was a hint of humor in Hunter’s voice. I barely said that above a whisper, how did he hear that?

You cleared your throat and adjusted your tunic. “Uh, I just meant that… I’m not dangerous to you. I’m just a mechanic and got caught up with... I just…” you tried to swallow the nothing in your dry mouth. “IsabotagedanImperialSoldier’sspeederbecausehewasactinglikealaserbrain.” It was a risk to insult the Empire in front of this crew without knowledge of their current standing but more than likely by their hasty escape, they weren’t friendly with the newer overlords.

Everyone’s eyes went wide at your confession, except for the silver haired man who’s grip on the toothpick in his mouth got tighter.

The little girl, Omega, stepped closer. “You sabotaged an Imperial Soldier’s speeder? He caught you and that’s why you were running?” Her eyes may or may not have held something like admiration.

You nodded. “Yeah… It was… worth it to see the bike fall a part under him while trying to catch up.”

The largest one laughed loudly, probably didn’t have any other setting other than ‘loud and explosive’, but it wasn’t threatening. It seemed he also enjoyed the thought along with Omega. “I think Maxis does belong with us if that’s why they’re running.” The others were also holding back laughs.

“If you know how to put machines together, you know how to take them apart,” a slight smile crossed your face. “Of course, when I’m working on your ship, I’ll only put in quality work. I’ll treat the ship like it was my own. That is… if you’ll have me.” The others gave looks to each other and eventually nodded, looking back at Hunter for direction.

“Of course. We aren’t exactly�� on great terms with the Empire either. Well, since that’s settled…” He gestured to the paler man to his left, starting the introductions. “This is Echo, part machine, all tactics. Crosshair is our sniper, doesn’t say much. Tech, on the hand, will talk about everything in the universe. Wrecker does explosives and takes down anything in his path. Lastly, this is Omeg—”

“I’m Omega! It’s so nice to meet you!” She was obviously very excited to meet new people. She grabbed your hand, shaking it. “Hunter, can I show Maxis around the ship?” Her eyes sparkled.

Hunter met your eyes and you gave a slight nod. “Of course.” Omega dragged you past the boys, starting the tour of your new home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a few standard hours, you found yourself sitting in the cockpit watching hyperspace fly by, Omega in your lap slowly falling asleep but doing her best to stay awake. How she could become fast friends with you was something you’d never understand, but it felt like you’d known her for much longer than you did.

Most of the others went to sleep for the rest of the ride, Tech seemed to be tinkering with something just beyond the cockpit. Hunter had been with you but stepped back a bit, possibly figuring out space issues.

“Omega, you’ve been a great hostess but you can go to sleep.”

She rubbed her eyes before laying her head back on your shoulder. “I’m not sleepy”.

“Ha, okay.” You brought your hand to her head to stroke it, running your fingers through her hair. She seemed to melt closer to you. Your eyes were also heavy, and this would fix the shortage of beds problem, if you just… slept here. Almost absentmindedly, you started to hum to Omega, lulling her to sleep.

“♪ I close my eyes

Only for a moment, and the moment's gone

All my dreams

Pass before my eyes, a curiosity

Dust in the wind

All they are is dust in the wind ♪”

Unbeknownst to you, Hunter had returned and leaned against the doorframe. In his hand, he had a blanket. He waited until both of your breaths became even to make sure you were asleep before putting the blanket over both of you and took a seat.

Part 4

_______________________________________________________

Notes:

Bogling: basically a racoon sized squirrel. Could be dangerous if they get into the vents of your ship, but otherwise, pretty cute. First Fallen Order "reference".

Dust in the Wind - Kansas: This is where the name of the fic comes from. Roll credits. It'll come up a few times like a connection. There's a reason, not necessarily a good one but it's not like a "aha! gotcha" sorta thing. I hope that it's not too cheesy.

[free-pancakes]

We know that Hanji is scariest when she's angry..so somehow levi has angered hanji in aot universe..and levi is witnessing the scariest sight of hanji..how he'll handle it..

ahhh anon i got a similar ask before and i just can’t picture levi doing something that angers her that bad, but i can def imagine how he handles an angry hanji so here goes nothingggg:

———-

Hanji sat down in the mess hall for breakfast. She rarely woke up this early when there wasn’t a meeting she had to get to or an expedition at hand, but it was an oddly good morning for her. She happily began to eat as the 100th cadet corps began to flood in to the hall and sat all around her. When she finished, she cleaned up after herself, headed over to the cooks refilling the food put out from the kitchens, and kindly helped them. After a few minutes, she made the turn out of the kitchen and overheard some of the young cadets sitting around and making small talk around the corner.

“Hah yea I can’t believe they just promoted those three idiots. Hanji-san is an absolute nutcase, and that stupid assistant of hers at her side every second, what was his name... Moblit?”

Hange froze holding a tray of food—she took a deep breath. She, Levi, and Erwin all got promoted to their new positions of squad leader, captain, and commander recently. She had to uphold some ounce of professionalism. “Hange don’t be your reckless self,” she breathed out and tried to keep her anger at bay.

“Oh and the new commander. Also crazy if you ask me, looks like he doesn’t care about anyone but his damn self.”

The small voice of another cadet retorted shakily: “Hey, you should probably respect our higher ups! They were put there for a reason and—”

“Petra, shut the hell up.”

“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?? And hey, come on, they don’t call Captain Levi ‘humanity’s strongest’ for nothing!”

“Pfft Oluo, you and Petra are just a couple of suck-ups.” The young cadet continued, “Don’t even get me started on this so-called ‘humanity’s strongest’. Yeah his titan kill count is impressive but didn’t you hear? He couldn’t even save his two best friends, and they died,” he said with a smirk. “Wait what the—”

Hanji tackles the cadet to the ground, and began punching him at full strength, no holding back.

“YOU DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT IT TOOK TO GET HERE. WE DIDNT ASK FOR ANY OF THIS! IT’S NOT LIKE WE ASKED FOR OUR FRIENDS TO DIE—” Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t help but cry when she was that angry. She knew it was something she needed to work on, but she didn’t care right now. This stupid cadet didn’t realize everything that was sacrificed and that the 3 of them were simply lucky to have lived for this long. Idiot.

Petra ran to get help, and Oluo tried to calm Hanji down, accidentally getting punched straight in the face by her in the process.

The young cadet was almost knocked out cold, another punch yielded a tooth flying across the floor. Before she could throw another punch, she felt a gentle hand catch her fist. She struggled against it, her heart still filled with rage at the cadet for saying such things. Levi and Petra successfully restrained her while sustaining a few bruises in the process. Levi threw Hange over his shoulder as she thrashed and yelled. He looked at the mess on the floor, but simply left. Clearly whatever he did or said was pretty bad seeing the damage Hange left—he probably deserved it.

Levi walked while carrying Hanji, who gradually quieted, all he could hear now were her quiet sniffles. It was bad—Hange was never this quiet after a fight. She was always ranting and yelling like crazy whenever something angered her, but she was dead silent. It worried Levi.

He carried her all the way out to the cadet training grounds.

“Hey what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut the hell up, Shadis,” Levi muttered coldly and walked right past him without hesitation, leaving the man dumbstruck.

He put Hanji down, and grabbed ODM gear from the small warehouse. He handed a pair to Hanji, who silently began to gear up with a blank stare, tears still falling inadvertently from her eyes. It took a lot for Levi not to just gather her into his arms—he knew what she needed and unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the appropriate move right now. Plus he wasn’t even sure if that was okay, he never really initiated hugs...

They walked out into the clearing in the nearby forest, wooden boards of titan dummies all around them. Levi handed her some blades.

“What now?” Hanji muttered, emotionless.

“Do your thing, Hanji.”

——

Night fell over them, stars the only source of light around them. The two of them sat on the ground, breathless. The titan dummies were basically nothing but kindling on the ground. Shadis would be pissed, but honestly, the thought of that made Levi want to laugh.

“Hey shorty, wanna grab some tea in the break house? I’ll make it taste as bitter as you,” she said with a laugh.

Levi almost smiled—Hanji was back to her normal self, and he was relieved. He was glad he came up with this idea to just physically get her anger out. She was basically like a puppy, just gotta tire her out til she had no energy, nothing left but rest as an option. He wondered what that cadet said to have angered her so badly in the first place.

They entered the break house on the training grounds, and Hanji began to brew some tea.

“Oi Hanji, what happened anyway?”

Hanji hesitated for a second, the words of that stupid cadet swirling around in her brain. There was a lot that he said that sent her fuming, but really... his unfair comment about Levi was the last straw. It awoke something within her and to be honest, she didn’t remember much of what happened after that—just blind rage, really.

She turned towards Levi, her eyes soft as she looked him up and down. He looked questioningly at her.

“Oh just throwing some insults, and he was rude to that sweet cadet, Petra was it? And her friend,” she lied. “Hah, Erwin is gonna rip me a new one tomorrow, it’s not my fault someone angered me the day after our promotion...” she said with a small laugh. Levi could tell she was lying, but he held his tongue. If she didn’t want to share, that was okay with him.

She finished pouring the cup of tea for Levi, and sat down at the table next to him.

Levi took a sip, and decided to bite the bullet—“Hey Hanji, um... would you uh... hm. Did you need a hug or something uh I know that you were really upset and maybe... it could help—”

A soft snore interrupted him. Hanji fell asleep right at the table, her head bobbing as she tried to balance it on her hand. “Oh thank God she didn’t hear any of that,” he thought to himself. He was too emotionally constipated and awkward for his own good. He swept her into his arms and entered the small quarters in the house. He laid her down on one of the beds, and pulled up a chair next to it. He gently slid off her glasses and pulled a blanket over her. He planted a small kiss on her forehead, and her lips seemed to curl into a small smile in her sleep. Levi let himself smile—no one was around anyway. He sat watching over her, making sure she got to rest uninterrupted.

[kjack89]

Ooh, prompt for "I never stood a chance, did I?"

ExR (ish), Grantaire x folks who are, unfortunately to him most of all, not Enjolras, modern AU. Not sure any of them ever stood a chance. 

To say that a hush fell over the assembled crowd in the back room of the Musain when Grantaire walked in holding the hand of an unknown guy was probably an exaggeration, but not by much. All eyes were seemingly on both of them as they made their way to a table, and only picked up again when both sat.

Courfeyrac, always one for the latest in gossip, quickly headed over to where Joly and Bossuet were sitting. “Who’s the new guy?” he asked, sitting down next to Joly. 

Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “Grantaire hasn’t deigned to introduce us yet. Probably afraid we’ll scare him away.” He sniffed, clearly insulted. “As if he isn’t capable of that on his own.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Grantaire and his new beau with a look of mild curiosity. “So how long do you think this one will last?”

Joly just snorted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Five dates,” he said, a mix of grim and resigned. “It’s always five dates.”

“You never know,” Bossuet said bracingly, ever the optimist. “Maybe this one will be different.”

Joly gave him a look. “Five dates,” he repeated flatly.

“What’re we betting on?” Bahorel asked, leaning back in his chair and interjecting himself smoothly into the conversation.

“We’re not betting on anything—“ Joly started, but Bossuet cut him off.

“Over/under on how long Grantaire and his new lover will last,” he said, nodding in Grantaire’s direction. “Line is 5 dates.”

Bahorel gave Grantaire and his new man a quick once over. “I’ll take the under.”

Joly scowled. “We’re not betting.”

“I’ll take those odds,” Feuilly said, not even bothering to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping, offering his hand for Bahorel to shake.

“Same,” Bossuet said with a firm nod.

He looked pointedly at Joly, who rolled his eyes. “I’m sticking with five. It’s always five.”

“Fine,” Bossuet said, sticking his tongue out at him. “But when I win, I’m saying ‘I told you so’.”

Joly didn’t look worried. “And when I win,” he said, “I look forward to taking your money.” He took a sip of his beer before adding, “Easiest twenty bucks I ever made.”

----------

Exactly four Les Amis meetings later, Grantaire turned up dateless. “Don’t tell me you broke up with him,” Bossuet said, a little desperately.

Grantaire shrugged. “It just...didn’t work out.”

Joly met Bossuet’s eyes, something like satisfaction in his expression. “Oh no,” he said. “That’s too bad. We really liked him.”

He didn’t sound remotely convincing, but Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, just shrugging and watching Enjolras stand up at the front of the room. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he said, a little vaguely.

Bossuet leaned over, surreptitiously sliding a twenty dollar bill to Joly. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “You told me so.”

Joly just shook his head, pocketing the money. “It’s always five dates,” he said with a sigh.

----------

The five date rule – as Joly called it, though Grantaire stubbornly insisted it was more of a five date guideline than anything – started because of Enjolras.

Grantaire had been casually seeing a perfectly lovely woman who had seemed, at least that far, willing to overlook his many glaring flaws, and brought her to a Les Amis meeting for their third date. And then their fourth. 

And it was on their fifth date that Enjolras, who had never quite grasped the concepts of ‘casual’ or ‘subtle’, had remarked, a little sourly, “I’ll take it she’s going to become a regular attendee, then?”

Needless to say, she never came back after that.

Joly postulated that the cycle went something like this: Grantaire met someone and managed to convince them to agree to a date. On said date, Grantaire was his most charming, and funny, and it was enough to secure a second date, and then a third, which was usually when he brought them to a Les Amis meeting. The third date, of course, by the unwritten rules of the universe, was also the date where sex happens. After having sex, Grantaire panicked because this person wasn’t the person he would actually like to be having sex with, and desperately initiated another date in hopes that he’ll convince himself to have feeling for this person instead, and thus there was a fourth date. The fifth date was one final attempt to convince himself that this could work, and they parted ways after that.

Grantaire, on the other hand, maintained that said cycle took far too much forethought, and he had never once been accused of thinking that far ahead. Instead, he told anyone who asked that he just got bored after five dates, and when he found someone who captured his interest, it would last far longer.

But it was, of all people, Combeferre who nailed it most succinctly.

“It’s because of Enjolras,” Combeferre told Bossuet late one evening when Grantaire and Joly had gone to get refills after discussing Grantaire’s latest disastrous dating attempt. 

“What do you mean?” Bossuet asked, curious, and not just because Combeferre normally considered himself above the whole nonsense of Enjolras, Grantaire, and the never ending dance they both pretended not to notice they were doing.

“It takes five dates for Enjolras to notice that Grantaire’s been dating someone,” Combeferre said simply. “And once Enjolras notices, Grantaire has no need to keep the charade going.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment. “Do you think he knows?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “Enjolras, or Grantaire?” Bossuet shrugged and Combeferre sighed. “Grantaire might, though he would undoubtedly deny it.”

“And Enjolras?” Combeferre gave him a look and Bossuet chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.” He lifted his beer to take a sip before remembering it was empty and setting it back down again. “So who’s going to tell one or both of them?”

“Not it,” Combeferre said instantly, and Bossuet smirked.

“Looks like it’s gonna be Joly’s job.”

Combeferre shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to tell Joly.”

Bossuet’s smile disappeared. “Goddamnit.”

----------

But then there was a woman who made it to six dates.

And then seven.

And even Joly had to admit that maybe he was wrong about the five date rule.

Combeferre wasn’t so quick to give up, just watching Grantaire with narrowed eyes as he held this woman’s hand. “What do you think of her?” he asked Enjolras in an undertone.

Enjolras blinked as he looked up from the journal article he had been reading. “Who?” he asked.

“Grantaire’s girlfriend,” Combeferre said, looking pointedly in Grantaire’s direction.

Enjolras’s expression froze. “Oh, uh, Fiona?” he said, a little too vague to be accidental.

“Floréal,” Combeferre corrected. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s a nickname.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Not a great nickname.”

Combeferre scowled. “And not exactly my point.”

“Then what was your point?” Enjolras asked, matching his tone.

“It’s about the fact that Grantaire seems like he might actually be getting serious about someone.”

“And?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “And I can’t imagine you’re thrilled about that.”

For one long moment, Combeferre was certain that Enjolras was going to deny it, or feign ignorance, or shrug it off in one of a million ways he had in the past. But then he sighed and set his pen down. “He deserves to be happy,” he said quietly.

Combeferre just looked at him evenly. “So do you.”

Enjolras managed a smile and held up the journal article. “I have a protest to plan. You could say that I’ve never been happier.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s unusually abrupt, especially for you.” Combeferre didn’t so much as twitch and Enjolras sighed. “Fine, but I’m not the one who likes to brag about the size of my vocabulary.” He paused, looking over at Grantaire, his expression darkening slightly. “But I am. Happy, I mean. I love my work, and Grantaire…”

He trailed off and Combeferre shook his head. “If you think Grantaire loves this woman—”

“I don’t,” Enjolras said quickly – a little too quickly, and he looked away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “But maybe he should.”

It was Combeferre’s turn to debate between honesty and denial., but in the end, he just shook his head, his expression unreadable. “If that’s really what you think,” he said coolly.

Enjolras shook his head as well and went back to reading through the journal article. Or pretending to, at the very least, though he couldn’t help but look up at Grantaire several times. 

And needless to say, neither he nor Combeferre were particularly surprised when, a half hour later, just when it looked like Grantaire and  Floréal were getting ready to leave, Enjolras glanced up at him. “Are you leaving?” he asked.

“That was the plan,” Grantaire said, cocking his head slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Enjolras said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I was just, um, I was hoping to borrow you. To critique my speech. If– if you don’t have anything better to do.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said instantly, before realizing what he had said and coloring. “I mean…” 

“Go,” Floréal said with a small smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I think we can handle one night apart.” She kissed him on the cheek before grabbing her coat and heading out. Grantaire watched her leave for only a second before looking back at Enjolras, a small, slightly crooked smile spreading across his face as he did.

“So where do you want me?”

----------

Floréal looked resigned as she sat down next to Grantaire on the bench he had asked to meet her at in the park the following day. It had been where they first met, and she glanced a little ruefully at it before telling Grantaire, “I suppose it’s poetic, in a way. Ending things here, where they began.”

Grantaire winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“The ‘we should talk’ text did a lot of heavy-lifting for you,” Floréal said with a half-smile. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t see this coming before that.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “I never stood a chance, did I?”

Grantaire sighed and looked away for a long moment before shaking his head and looking back at her. “If it makes you feel better, you came the closest.”

“But not close enough.”

Floréal didn’t sound upset when she said it, but Grantaire still looked pained. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said with a little laugh. “I think I knew all along.” She considered it for a moment. “Honestly, I think that was part of the appeal.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She trailed off before shaking her head again. “There was always an end date on this, and that meant I didn’t have to worry about commitment. After all, you always belonged to someone else. I could tell, even if I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I resent the implication that I belong to anyone,” Grantaire said lightly.

But Floréal didn’t rise to the bait. “Fine, maybe not you, but your heart at least belongs to someone else.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Well, there is that.”

Floréal laughed again and patted Grantaire’s knee. This was a lot of fun, Grantaire.” She paused. “Well, maybe not this conversation, but the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a look. “You said that already.”

Grantaire didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t choose this, you know,” he said, his voice low. “If I had a choice.”

Floréal shrugged. “You can’t choose who to fall in love with.” She gave him a pointed look. “But you can choose what to do about it.”

“What are you saying?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m saying maybe you should try to focus on the five dates with the person you actually want to be with, the five dates that would actually lead to more.”

Grantaire made a face. “It’s the one date that I’m worried about,” he told her honestly.

“And that is no longer my problem.” She stood, and Grantaire hurried to stand as well. “Best of luck, Grantaire – I mean it. I wish you nothing but the best.”

The smile he gave her was genuine, if a little rueful. “Same to you. I wish whomever you find will give you a lot more than five dates.”

“And I hope whomever I find will love me as much as you love Enjolras.”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and ducked his head. “So do I,” he said quietly. He gave her a little wave before he started in the opposite direction, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of the Musain and the inevitable five dates with the next placeholder until he was finally ready to see if he actually stood a chance of his own.

[eldrai]

Not Worth It

Whumptober 2021 - day 3 - prompt: insult

Character: Reid

Warnings: ableism, r-slur, brief/mild homophobia

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

ao3 / masterlist

“—were actually invented in the early fifteenth century, though the first versions were, uh, significantly more spherical and made of a wood like beech. It’s also highly likely they used cows’ hair inside leather—”

The cop – Maciewicz – nudges the officer beside him. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Spencer is fairly sure the jab is intended to be audible. It’s an interesting social convention, that sort of insult, where everyone including the target hears it but the person who said it can’t be called out on it because they supposedly directed it at nobody in particular. Interesting, and very high-school of them: Maciewicz is closer to forty than thirty and beginning to bald, and the stale remnants of cigarette smoke follows his colleague wherever he goes.

It doesn’t offend Reid these days. Attending a public LA high school is its own distinct circle of hell but doing so at nine? University at twelve? He’s been called most names under the sun and petty insults don’t get under his skin like they used to.

Which isn’t to say they aren’t annoying.

What he hates the most is the variety of people who insult him: they all have different reactions, different sore spots, and getting them to go away isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Reid has dealt with enough bullies to understand that ‘ignore them and they’ll go away’ is useless, if not downright dangerous advice, but there is a whole spectrum of solutions which may or may not work. Get it wrong, and they just grow more persistent.

Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

Of course they aren’t.

He pays them no mind and continues to explain the significance of the golf balls their unsub keeps leaving behind. If they didn’t want him to talk, they shouldn’t have asked for his opinion.

This seems like a fairly straightforward case and with any luck, they’ll only have to tolerate the local police department for a couple of days more.

He may have jinxed it.

(Once when they had come to take his Mom to inpatient, Spencer had overheard someone at the front desk talking lowly to someone else, and her words had stuck with him: see, that’s what you get for saying it’s quiet today!

That was always the gist of what was said on TV hospital dramas too. Police chaos isn’t all that different from hospital chaos, he thinks. There’s always too much of it and it’s unpredictable in its unpredictability.)

The curveball this time is their unsub is not a lone male but a male-female duo – he carries out the kills but under her direction. Classic submissive-dominant dynamic. The thing with pairs is they crack. Bend under the pressure until they break and lives are lost in the collateral damage.

Case in point: Marcy Edgeworth, aged twenty-four, Caucasian female, death by blunt force trauma. She is the first female victim and the first to have been left to lie where she’d died. That isn’t a good sign. No indication of sexual assault pre- or post-mortem but there is an incomplete ring of bite marks just beneath her right collarbone, exposed due to her torn shirt.

“What, never seen a naked girl before?” Jamison – Maciewicz’s colleague – mutters. Just low enough for Spencer to hear as he is trying to get on with his job, unlike a certain pair of officers.

“Woman,” he corrects, for her age, “and yes, I have.”

He hopes the lightness in his tone offsets the brusqueness. Spencer shifts his crouching into kneeling and leans forwards to examine her hair. It’s an artificial red – her roots and her eyebrows are blonde – and their previous victims have all had brown hair.

“Only counts if it’s outside a morgue,” Maciewicz chimes in.

He ignores them but their gaze burns the back of his head, and their presence has his guard raised. They stand behind him and their shadows stretch out over the grass either side of him. They’re going for a reaction, Spencer assumes.

Biting is an interesting thing without an accompanying sexual assault. If nothing else it gives them a good estimation of their male unsub’s teeth. The impression he’s getting from the scene is one of interruption, an impulse kill whose victim he had to leave too soon. It is a public park and it was an early-morning dog walker who found her – likely a jogger or someone on a night shift.

Jamison clears his throat once, twice, then taps him on the shoulder. Spencer rears away from his touch. People never ask, they just do.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Jamison says. “I – we – we were wondering why you do that… thing.”

“What thing?” Spencer asks.

Jamison gestures. “You know, the – you know.”

Is that some sort of punchline he’s missing? Spencer glances over at Maciewicz and finds a mild amusement. Nothing to indicate he should be laughing, nor should he know what they do mean.

Maybe he’s missing the cue. He’s better at it these days, but not perfect.

“No, I don’t.”

With a furtive glance at the precinct’s captain, deep in conversation with one of the forensic technicians, Jamison sighs. “The thing with your hands, the—” He shakes his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Spencer’s hands still. He hadn’t thought it was very noticeable and more to the point, Jamison is definitely overexaggerating it like kids in middle school used to do. Only back then they had his unusual gait and meltdowns to mock too. “I don’t do that,” he says firmly.

(He’d answer it if it was a genuine question. Respectful. He loves people who ask out of genuine good intent. They are few and far between.)

Maciewicz snickers.

“Yeah, you do,” Jamison says. “I want to know why, that’s all.”

“Makes you look like a retard,” Maciewicz adds.

…and there it is.

He goes cold from head to toe. It never fails to make him feel as if someone has just dumped a bucket of water right over him, washing away his enthusiasm and excitement and everything else he values. Leaves the bare bones, the weirdness, each of the hundred ways he never quite fits in.

Spencer hates the word.

Because they don’t care about his IQ or eidetic memory or reading skill when they say that, and they don’t care after he tells them.

Nobody calls him that because they think he is. They say it to hurt him.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

Despite how often he’s heard it, he never has a response. His mind goes blank and all he can pull from it is the roots – re,from Latin: back, and tardus, from Latin: slow – as if they give a damn about etymology. As if that’s a normal person’s response. Today is no exception so it’s a blessing when Morgan wanders over.

“You got anything, pretty boy?” he asks. Maciewicz and Jamison snort. If Morgan hears it, he pays it no mind. “They found a guy’s baseball cap over there. No hair but it looks like it’s our man’s.”

And once again, his mind goes blank. Makes you look like a retard. He’d been thinking about – the bite mark, yes, what does that indicate? Spencer catches his hands moving and shoves them in his pockets before they can. “He was interrupted,” he says. “It explains why the bite isn’t complete and why he didn’t notice he’d left his hat.”

Morgan nods. “The person who found the body didn’t recall seeing anyone else around, so you think he’d just left before they got there?”

“Probably,” Spencer says. “I think the woman might be blonde. If they got into a fight, he’d be stressed, he’d be thinking about her. Maybe she reminded him of her.”

“Could be the hair, could be something else,” Morgan says. “He won’t have talked to her, not if he hit her from behind.”

“What if they did? She could have walked away—”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “But if her hair was dyed, he wouldn’t see that unless they were up close, right? He’d initially go for her because she’s got red hair, not blonde. And if they did talk, Prentiss says no woman’s gonna just turn her back on a strange man. Especially in the middle of the night with no-one around.”

It’s a valid point, and it isn’t condescending. Nonetheless it hurts. Spencer studies the ground for a long moment and tries to forget (retard) Maciewicz and Jamison. “The unsub isn’t going to be someone he’s sexually attracted to,” he says. “He didn’t assault her, and if the victim reminds him of the other unsub, he’d probably have tried to even if someone interrupted him before he really could.”

A burst of laughter from Maciewicz and Jamison. His cheeks go hot with embarrassment—they must be talking about him, what else is there to laugh about? Morgan follows his gaze. “There a problem?” he asks.

Maciewicz holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Just… the hell is that about, ‘pretty boy’?”

Morgan shrugs. Spencer isn’t sure if it’s as casual as it looks.

“Well, makes sense,” Jamison says. “Course he’s gonna freak out over a naked girl if he doesn’t swing that way.”

…oh, great.

Spencer doesn’t mind exactly what they say as much as the implication—that they know, that they’re entitled to know his sexuality. How they say it as if gay is equivalent to bad. Once again, how utterly high school it all is. And he knows Morgan isn’t going to appreciate it either, probably more insulted on his behalf than Spencer himself.

“And you care, because...?” Morgan says, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t,” Jamison says.

“He’s…” Maciewicz stammers, “…you know.”

“Smarter than you?” Morgan suggests. “Better at his job than you? A better person than you?”

“You don’t have to stick up for him,” Jamison says. “Must get annoying to deal with a re—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer interrupts. It isn’t. It really isn’t but it isn’t worth the conversation. How tiring it gets to deal with it, how much easier it is to walk away. These officers aren’t going to change their worldview on disabilities all of a sudden. “Morgan.”

Morgan takes in his posture, the unnatural stillness as he forces himself not to fidget, though the look in his eyes doesn’t fade. “The only people I don’t want to ‘deal with’ are both of you.”

The men share a look – not so much chastened as disappointed their fun was interrupted – but they do back off.

“They already seem to think I’m incapable,” Spencer says irritably. “I said it was fine, I didn’t need you to say anything.”

He crouches down to examine the bite again.

“It didn’t matter,” Spencer says. His hands itch and despite needing to, he can’t bring himself to move. Makes you look like a retard.

“Does if it bothers you,” Morgan insists. “And it did, don’t look at me like that.”

He sighs. They’re not even there any more, the two cops out on patrol and them revisiting the penultimate crime scene. “I’m used to it.”

“And?” Morgan says. “Just because you are doesn’t mean you have to put up with it—”

“It was five minutes at most,” Spencer points out. “Everyone else was fine.”

“Yeah, and they were dicks.”

He shrugs.

“What else did they say?”

Spencer rolls the fabric of his sweater between his fingers and feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else did they say when I wasn’t there, ‘cause they said something.”

“Makes you look like a retard.”

He doesn’t mean to say it – wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but it certainly wasn’t that – but he says it nonetheless, his tone mimicking the disdain and irritation. And now Morgan definitely isn’t going to believe him if he says he’s fine and it’s going to make the situation worse to explain that he mostly is, he just hasn’t heard it for a while, he’s used to it.

Stupid echolalia.

“Like I said,” Morgan says, “they were dicks.”

Spencer doesn’t point out being rude doesn’t automatically mean lying. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to say stuff like that.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet. His hands aren’t co-operating but the swaying motion is a good substitute. “I’m okay.”

“You know,” Morgan says casually, “whenever you lie, you stand exactly the same way.”

Spencer looks up. The expression on Morgan’s face falls somewhere between sadness and sympathy but, he thinks, not pity. It’s a nice change.

“Kid, the only thing you’re gonna get from pretending you’re OK is worse,” Morgan says. “It’s not worth it. Not for anyone but especially not morons like that.”

“It’s not worth it,” Spencer repeats. The words catch in his thoughts and he murmurs it again and again and Morgan isn’t even slightly annoyed at him.

(It isn’t worth it—he knows this—but maybe it is. Just a tiny bit. Just for the part where he has friends who tell him things like this, who don’t mind when he’s awkward. Who don’t mind him.

Friends who say nothing about it but when they get back to the station, the pair are getting chewed out by a pissed off captain.)

A/N: I had trouble getting this to flow as well as my other ones, there's something about it I just can't figure out. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

[neerons]

Some of Takaomi Tsugaru’s best quotes

“Wipe the drool. I’m not THAT handsome, am I?”

“That’s all you have to say about mon visage?”

“True, going on a date with a pretty girl isn’t so bad. But it’s definitely more fun hanging out with you.”

“Your butt cheeks are two different sizes, too.”

“A little pet of Hideki’s and Hyogo’s? This I gotta see. Graduated with honors, eh? Singled out already, huh? Sounds like a gorilla girl. I picture a hearty, muscled lass with arms like hams. But what eventually materializes before me is a cute little hoppy white hare.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“Throwing her hard-written report into the trash basket has me in a great mood. Lalala...” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“Drag her? She may be fierce, but she’s only bunny-sized. If she gets grabbed by three guys at once...” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“She seemed so feminine. Having fun, and drinking more than she intended. (...) She flops back over, karate-chopping me in the face. How’d she manage to land a critical hit while sleeping?! Why did she decide to go into Public Safety? An innocent, carefree girl like this?” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“This might be the first time I’ve really gotten a good look at her face. It isn’t too bad. She has a cute little nose, and her mouth moves like a little animal when it’s flapping. She’s even kind of charming. I scrutinize her face, drinking in the details.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“Probably because she’s a country bumpkin... No, no. She’s a daisy fresh girl raised on farm-fresh air.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“You four-eyed jerk...” (—Tsugaru to Ishigami)

“Don’t take my Little Hare... I want her all to myself.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“She and Goto could be doing it like bunnies for all I should care.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I should drop Momo’s toenail clippings in that coffee of yours...” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts about MC)

“Don’t look so innocent while you’re sitting on a man’s thighs. I can feel her body heat... This proximity...” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I figured out from that little incident that dressing up isn’t your forte. Besides, it’s hard to compete with my beauty.”

“It’s a curse being this handsome.” (—Tsugaru talking about himself to Kurosawa)

“I hope you’re looking forward to it too, Little Hare... Our D.A.T.E!” (—Tsugaru speaking loudly to make the other guys jealous)

“I really wanted you to see it. How the old Namba gang would react. As the day of our date approached, Little Hare, they couldn’t stand it. Hideki’s frown line just kept getting deeper and deeper. And Hyogo was drinking so much coffee, he was practically vibrating.”

“Yes, we’re like Beauty and the Beast, aren’t we? Come along, Beast.”

“Are you jealous of our bro-date, Little Hare? (—Tsugaru talking about when he was hanging out with Kaga in the past to MC)

“Don’t compare your face and mine. It’s an insult.”

“You unfaithful hussy.”

“Little Hare takes priority.”

“You’re quite big, Little Hare. (...) Maybe I was talking about your chest.”

“No shoulder rides for you, little man.” (—Tsugaru to Noa after he was called “weird” by him)

“You’re right. You’re more of a snot-dribbler than a tear-spiller.”

“How can you say a handsome face like mine is ever “in the way”...?”

“Trying to make me hate you? ...Silly. Thank you for not changing. Please... always stay the way you are.”

“Hmm? You want a non-antidote kiss this time? Ahaha. You’re bright red. Like a tomato. Let’s see if I can make you... a squashed tomato.”

“We should at least go on a date before we get married. Let’s go on a date.”

“When I was a kid, I was always imagining things, never knowing that part of me would be killed off. But right now, I indulge in a little fantasy of Little Hare’s twitchy bunny face.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“Excuse me?! I fight a sudden urge to take a flying kick at Seiji’s back.” (—Tsugaru being jealous of Goto in his thoughts)

“I’d decided not to use my past to make excuses. But the complex I’ve been hiding... It’s in every part of me.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“Was she asking because she wants to be my girlfriend? I’d like to tell you... that you deserve that position, too. (...) Girlfriend, huh. When she asked me why I can’t get one... my heart skipped a beat. The only girl I can think of that could fit the bill is her.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“She’s taken tons of snaps of Squad Katsuragi, all glistening with sweat. You dirty paparazzo, Little Hare. What are you thinking, letting strange men into your apartment? Strange men who aren’t ME! I delete all the photos before taking a few selfies, then handing her phone back. (...) I set the lock and background screens as me too.” (—Tsugaru talking and thinking about MC)

“Can I say goodnight to the baby in your belly? Goodnight. I can’t wait to meet you.” (—Tsugaru talking to his mom and unborn sibling, as a child)

“I started having dumb, hopeful thoughts of being her someone special.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“A murderer’s blood runs in my veins. This was the one thing I didn’t want her to know about me. I didn’t want you to know... Not you. Not my normal, innocent Little Hare.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I want to be a man you can feel confident sticking by. I don’t want you to stay around because you’re worried. You’re my first real personal relationship, I guess.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I’ll save her, over and over. I’d do anything to rescue the woman I love.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“She purses her lips. Gah, so cute. (...) Then she smirks at me, seeming very satisfied. She looks so, so happy. Cute as heck! I want to grab her and take her someplace private...” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I’ll draw Momo frying Little Hare alive with his Momo Beam.” (Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“(...) Once there was a boy called Momotaro... He was friends with a little hare, and a mean dog called Hyogo and a cyborg called Hideki. They traveled to the land of demons to fell the demon lord Seiji...” (—Tsugaru making up a story for Noa)

“She’s so good at being honest and earnest with people. Knowing she might hurt them, but not backing down, for the sake of what’s right. And she knows how to soothe those hurts, too.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I knew it was only ever going to be a dream. Such a pure, uncomplicated girl could never fall for someone... like me.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“I’ll have to start calling you Little Piggy instead of Little Hare.”

“So she and Seiji had a little kitty friend at the academy? I’ll have to crush their relationship.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts)

“Be happier about being chained to a hot guy.”

“My dream’s to go to Momo’s wedding. Be happy, my friend.” (—His VIP room)

“Imagine Hyogo of all people having a soft spot for someone. What a shock.” (—His VIP room)

“Dreamed I was being attacked by Kaga Kong and Ishizilla. I must be tired.” (—His VIP room)

“I happen to love my talented little subordinate, after all.” (—Tsugaru talking about MC, in Shinonome’s route)

“She’s surrounded by men. Is that businessman staring at her? If he gropes her, I’ll bring social justice down upon him.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts about a random man & MC)

“Stay away, ace! (...) She’s done with you all. She has a new man now.” (—Tsugaru talking about MC to Goto and the others)

“I bet you spent two hours getting ready for this. You look cute though.”

“Well I noticed you like eating.”

“What about Tsugaru variety? (...) I’d like to be bitten by you. Will you eat me up?” (—Tsugaru talking about an apple version of him to MC)

“Just for today, I wanted you to only think about me.”

“Doctor Doolittle?! Oh no, that’s a vet. ...Whatever! A doctor, eh... A detective is cooler than a doctor any day. Anyway, doctors don’t play fair. They act like group dates are their killing grounds.” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts about Hajime)

“Give you a call? Sure she will, buddy. (...) There’s silence when the guy departs. Say something. Tell me you like me way better!” (—Tsugaru’s thought about Hajime and MC)

“I wonder what she was like as a university student? He dated her back then... They would have held hands, kissed, and also... Whispered sweet nothings in bed. Aaargh! Why... Why can’t you be mine alone...” (—Tsugaru’s thoughts about Hajime and MC)

“I love you.”

“You could never forget the face of a good-looker like me after seeing it once, right?” (—His VIP room)

“I’m the type that makes sure he leaves his mark on the girl that means most to him.” (—His VIP room)

“I can see how chic you are - or trying to be at least. You dolled yourself up for me, right?” (—His VIP room)

“You could be honest and compliment me. Tell me how I’ve got a handsome face, but everything else about me is perfect.” (—His VIP room)

“Little Hare, you’re the only one for me.” (—His VIP room)

“Did you get a good shot? Send me the best one. That’s right, I was thinking Momo would like it.” (—His VIP room)

“Hyogo plus water is a crazy combo, isn’t it? Kinda like a demon lord that’s just emerged from out of the sea.” (—His VIP room)

“Hmph. Wait… Don’t you want to take a picture? You can make me your wallpaper, you know.” (—His VIP room)

“My clothes are supposed to be see-through and are supposed to cling to me. Sorry I’m too sexy.” (—His VIP room)

“Even when I’m wet my high quality remains… Wow.” (—His VIP room)

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : SICK OF ME (already)

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // story page // tag list (to come soon)

Why can't you just admit it, you've had it, you're sick of me, you're fed up with my almighty attitude... sick of me. So you got your problems, so you've got your worries, do you have a conscience? do you have a need? well I'm sick of you too.

       Switching universities in the middle of the year was probably the worst idea I had ever had but at the same time, I knew it was exactly what I needed. New place, new teachers, new friends, new everything, and even if I normally hate changes in any size, shape or form, this time, I was happy and ready to start over.

If It was possible, I would erase the last two years of my life gladly in a heartbeat. I had so many regrets and the feeling of guilt seemed to follow me everywhere I go. Have you ever had this feeling that everyone is looking at you? That everyone is talking about you? Secretly judging you? In my last college, that was the feeling inhabited me twenty four seven. I couldn't get rid of it, and It was slowly driving me insane.

I needed this change. I needed to be somewhere no one knew me, to start from scratch. I deserved it.

I stared at the piece of paper in my hand as I walked up the stairs and frowned when some random guy bumped into me, pushing me against the wall despite himself .

"Sorry." he just said, frowning too, before rushing down the stairs.

"Whatever." I whispered to myself.

It was true, I was never the kind of girl to enjoy being the center of attention, but in this new school, no one knew me, and all my life, everyone had told me to just 'be myself'. Unfortunately, it had always failed me, so perhaps, trying to be a bit different couldn't be bad? I finally reached the right floor and walked slowly in the wall, my eyes moving from door to door. My heart skipped a beat as I stood in front of what would be my room for the rest of the year and I placed my bag on the floor. I had managed to stick all my stuff in my brother's old sports bag and it was a miracle, but now, I was not sure the idea was a good one. After all, I could clearly remember the smell of my brother's hockey equipment and secretly, I hoped the odor didn't stick to it. I was so used to the smell that it was possible that I just didn't notice it anymore. With luck, my new roommate wouldn't comment on it, or even notice it. I made a mental note to spray my bag with my favorite perfume and took a big breath before knocking.

I heard movements and a curse word coming from inside, making me hold my breath. My mind went blank until the door swung open and a question immediately popped in my mind. Should I even have knocked anyway? After all, it was my new room, too, and it felt a bit ridiculous to knock, but what if my roommate was busy or half-naked?

I just stood in front of a brunette who frowned at me and I sent her a shy smile before clearing my throat. I was nervous, and I knew it was normal for me to be, but I didn't want to show it. I relaxed my whole body, making my shoulders fall, and raised my eyebrows.

"Wrong door." the pretty brunette just said to me before taking an other swing at the door.

It closed in front of my face in a loud noise making me scoff in surprise. If I wanted to be respected, which was something I clearly lacked at my old college, I was going to have to demand it, no matter what it would cost me. I breathed in, my smile now completely gone, and knocked again. A few more curse words and the door opened again, showing the same girl but now more annoyed.

That makes two of us. I just thought, letting out a louder sigh of annoyment.

"I said wrong door." the girl repeated. "Go."

She tried to close the door again but quickly, I moved my foot to stop her and placed one of my hands on the frame, taking a step closer.

"This is the right door." I argued, moving the sheet I had been given as a proof. "I'm your new roommate."

The brunette's frown turned into an amused smile and she chuckled slightly, crossing her arms on her chest. I used those few seconds to study her and I had time to realize how beautiful she was. It suddenly made me feel self-conscious but I barely had time to compare myself. She turned her head and yelled at someone in the room.

"Dude, you have a new roommate." she let out a bit louder. "And she's got boobs, too." she added before turning to me. "Sort of."

It took only a few seconds for a guy to appear. I frowned as his eyes moved from my eyes down to my chest and legs before moving back to my face. His lips curled into an amused smile too and he raised his eyebrows in a condescending way. I hated him already. I just hoped he was not dating my new roommate, or I knew I'd have to see him more often than wanted.

"Wrong door, love."

I sent him an annoyed smile but before I could say anything, the girl kept talking.

"It's worse than that, you're in the wrong building. The girls are on the other side of campus."

I frowned, feeling my heart suddenly jump in my chest, and moved my sheet up to read again what was written. I read it twice, three times, four... and when I looked up, both of them were still staring at me with a big smile. I could read in their eyes that they thought I was stupid, and I had to admit I did feel ridiculous, but I was not going to let them know.

"This is the right building, and the right door."

With an other chuckle, the boy snapped the paper of my hands and I let out a "hey!" before his eyes met mine again.

"Can I?"

I didn't answer and his gaze left mine to focus on the paper. After a few seconds, he frowned and finally looked back at me.

"There's definitely a mistake." he argued. "You're a girl."

"Wow, Sherlock Holmes got nothing on you." I replied with sarcasm, making him frown at me. "I'll get this sorted out. And hopefully I don't have to see you both ever again."

"Wishing the same thing." the guy just replied before pushing the door roughly.

It took me by surprise and I held my breath as it closed. I finally sighed and rolled my eyes. It was the second time a door closed in my face today and I hoped it was the last time.

---

An other door had closed in my face on that day but this time, it was metaphorically. They had, in fact, made a mistake. Apparently, Devon Eaton sounded like a boys' name and my file had been placed in the wrong category. It was pathetic how this seemed to be the story of my life and after arguing for way too long, they made sure I was on the waiting list for a place in the girls' dormitory, as if it made any sense to leave me with a bunch of horny, immature and just-out-of-their-teenage-years boys. What was this? A bad tv movie?

The worst was that I actually had to go back to the room I was assigned to, meaning that my roommate was not the pretty girl, but the annoying boy I had met and somehow, it made my day even more horrible. I stood in front of the door, staring at it for a few minutes, not really daring to knock at it as I anticipated the face of the guy I had argued with about an hour earlier.

"Come on, Dev." I whispered to myself, breathing in and closing my eyes. "You're not the shy and soft girl you used to be. You're a stronger version of yourself, now."

That pep talk seemed to be something I repeated a lot recently and normally, it helped, but this time, I could literally feel my heart threatening to jump out of my throat. I jumped when I felt a hand gently placed on my arm and took a step away, my eyes meeting light blue ones.

"Sorry love, I didn't want to scare ya."

I sent the guy a small smile and licked my lips. "No, it's cool, no problem."

"You know darling, the girls' building is on the other side of campus."

I raised my nose up and nodded. I felt like I was going to have to explainb my story a lot in the next few days and it was annoying me.

"Oh I know, there was a mistake. Apparently, i'm stuck here with the boys until there's a place with the girls."

The cute guy's lips curled and he chuckled. "Fook, is that a bad tv movie?"

I chuckled in surprise and raised my eyebrows before nodded again. "Yea! That's exactly what I thought too!" I let out with a smile. "Devon."

"Nice to meet you, Devon. I'm Louis." he let out before turning his upper body and pointing a door. "That's me room. You're always welcome if you want to escape this mess." He then pointed my door and I grimaced. What did he mean exactly and did I really want to know?

"Let's just say me and him didn't have a good start."

Louis nodded slowly, sending me a sorry smile after diving both his hands in his pockets. "Is that why you've been staring at the door for about ten minutes now?"

Had it been that long? Really?

"Mm, yea, I guess." I replied, raising my nose up in a grimace.

"Hey, it's your room too, so don't let him intimidate you." Louis added, taking a step closer. "Here, let me help you."

Without asking, he knocked at the door and I held my breath. I thought my heart would stop beating but instead, it started thumping in my chest so loud I thought everyone was able to hear it.

"You're welcome!" Louis added with an amused smile.

I thought he'd run away but instead, he waited with me by the door and it seemed to suddenly calm me. It felt good that a stranger was ready to be there for me and I tried to remember if it ever happened to me before. I decided that it never did just when the door opened again. This time, the guy seemed to be alone and his eyes fell on me before he glanced at Louis.

"Does that mean I'm stuck with you?"

I tried not to show how annoyed I was and just licked my lips, letting my shoulders fall down. "That's not how I would actually say things." I just replied, making him raise his eyebrows.

"And what would you say, princess?"

In his mouth, the word sounded totally pejorative and I knew that he was trying to insult me. I was never qualified as a 'princess' before, whether it was nicely, or meanly, but now that I had heard it, I knew I deeply hated it.

"I'd say that I'm stuck with you."

Louis chuckled next to me while my new roommate's lips curled again. "Well, I guess everything is relative, isn't it."

We stared at each other for a while and I finally raised my eyebrows. "Are you gonna let me in?"

The more amused he was, the angrier I was getting, but there was no way I would show him how easily he could get on my nerves. I had the feeling it would make him way too happy and a bit scared that it would incite him to continue and make it worse.

"Niall, come on." I heard Louis next to me as he took a step closer.

I could feel the skin of his arm brush slightly on mine and held my breath. When was the last time I actually had human contact with someone that was not part of my family? Niall's eyes moved to my new friend and after a few seconds, he moved away and pushed the door more open.

"Alright, of course." he gave in with a sigh. "It's your room too, apparently."

I turned to Louis who winked at me and pointed his door again. I loved the way he didn't need to say anything but I still understood everything he wanted to tell me. I nodded and sent him a smile before taking a big breath and walking in. I let my bag fall next to one of the beds and started unpacking. I could feel Niall's eyes on me and it was making me nervous. I didn't want him to look at me, I didn't want him to even acknowledge my presence and at the same time, I wanted to study him, too. I wanted to look at his side of the room and find out what kind of person he was, even if he made every nerve of my body quiver in annoyance and displeasure. I was sort of fascinated by him and irritated at the same time. I hated this feeling but I couldn't help it.

"Is that really your bag?"

I turned to him and my eyes met his for a second, making my heart jump in my chest. "That's a stupid question."

"I'm just asking because I've never met a girl who smelled that bad."

I could have told him it was my brother and that he played hockey, but then he would find out things about me and would probably end up asking more questions, and I was not in the mood for that at all.

"Thank you." I just said without looking at him before he chuckled.

"So how long will I be stuck with you?"

"I'll be stuck with you until there's a vacant place in the girls' building." I corrected him and answered his question.

"Why did you switch college in the middle of a year?" he asked, still sitting on his bed. "Did you get kicked out? Wouldn't surprise me, that cheeky attitude probably didn't help. Got you in trouble, didn't it, darling?"

I wanted to tell him that if someone's attitude would cause them problems, it was probably his but when I glanced at him, I noticed he was holding himself with his arms a bit behind on the bed, his knees slightly spread, and the almost-laying position he was in made me feel slightly uncomfortable. That's when it hit me that I would have to share a room with a boy for at least a few weeks.

"You know what you're talking about, don't you?" I finally replied, rolling my eyes. "Pretty sure your narcissistic nature got you in a few problems yourself."

"Actually, everyone loves me."

When I turned to look at him, he was sending me a smirk and I knew why everyone loved him. Oh yea, he was an annoying prick, but he was extremely charming and what emanated from him was something that could draw anyone to him. Not me, of course, but everyone else. Personally, I didn't want to kiss him, I wanted to hit him behind the head. I wanted to slap away that smirk off his face. I wanted to-

"Stop staring, darling." he laughed, making me feel suddenly extremely stupid. "Five fucking minutes and she's already in love."

"Oh you wish." I just let out without thinking, sending him a frown. "That's not gonna happen."

He got up and I allowed my eyes to roam on his face, noticing the way a lock of his light brown hair fell gracefully on his forehead. Who the hell looked like that in real life? As if he could read my mind, he passed his hand in his hair but the lock fell back where it was and I blinked a few times. He was so close that I could smell him : the mix of expensive perfume and something else I couldn't pinpoint. Perhaps it was his personal odor and I hated to admit that it smelled amazing.

"If you say so."

The more I stared at him, the more his lips curled, and I suddenly wondered what he could read in my face, or even in my eyes. I could easily hide my feelings and I was used to do it, then why did it feel like he could read my soul?

"Don't worry, you can take all your time to unpack tonight." he added, taking a step back. "There's a party and I may not even sleep here. The room's yours."

He turned around and grabbed his keys and phone, putting everything in his pockets before turning around and raising his eyebrows at me. Did that stupid smirk ever leave his lips? Probably not. In fact, I bet he still had it when he was asleep.

"Have a nice night, Devon Eaton."

Moving gracefully on his heels, he turned around and left, the door closing behind him. It's only when he was gone that I realized I was holding my breath and I filled my lungs with air again. It took me a few seconds to understand how he actually knew my name but I remembered he actually checked my file earlier and I pressed my lips together, remaining motionless next to my bed. My name sounded so different in his mouth and I was not sure why, but I couldn't pretend I didn't like the fact that I could get used to this room without having Niall watching my every move. He was intimidating and I had to find a way not to go back to the person I used to be. There was no way I would let Niall (or anyone) walk all over me. I was a new person, and the new Devon wouldn't let anyone intimidate her, especially not a cheeky boy, no matter how charming he was.

[axoxtxhxh]

Can’t it be You? - Chapter 2

Summary: A couple days after the party, Kinjou has a request for Y/N.

Kinjou x Fem!Reader    Discussion of Sex/Losing virginity   Word Count: ~3000

“Y/N!” Kinjou was running across the courtyard to catch up. “Y/N!”

Y/N heard her name being called and turned around to see who was calling her. She saw Kinjou running past people, waving at her. He bumped into a couple students walking, knocking their books down as he collided with them. She watched him apologize, helping them pick up their things and then run towards her, this time keeping his bookbag closer to his body. He reached her, out of breath.

“I… I… I’ve been…” He was panting. Y/N put her hand on his shoulder as he caught his breath. “I’ve been looking for you. I was trying to get your attention all day, but you haven’t noticed.”

“You have?” She questioned.

“Yeah, I was watching you in the library.” His breathing finally normal.

“You were watching me in the library.” She repeated and lowered her eyebrows. “Why didn’t you just text me?”

“That’s a good point.” He realized.

“I’m actually pretty busy.” She turned and started walking, Kinjou following behind. “What did you need?”

“I had a proposition for you.” Even though he was taller than Y/N, he was still struggling to keep up with her walking. “Well, more of a request.”

“What’s that?” She looked at the time, knowing she was already late.

“I’d really rather not talk about it here.”

“Then why did you chase me down to talk to me?” She laughed. “I’m eating dinner with Shinkai tonight. Why don’t you come over and you can tell me then?”

“I don’t…” He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with anyone else knowing what he was going to ask her, but of all the people he would be most okay with Shinkai knowing. “Okay.”

“Six o’clock,” she said, “my place.”

“Okay.” He stopped following her and watched her walk faster to the science building. It didn’t take long for a blush to make its way to his cheeks, already anxious to ask. He was finished with classes for the day and decided to drop his stuff off at his dorm and go out for a bike ride until dinner.

The size of the campus was one of the things he loved most about his school. On a casual ride, it took him thirty minutes to make it around the perimeter. When he was looking for a longer ride, he could weave through the buildings and get a good hour out of it. If he wanted a quieter ride, he could go to the park nearby and ride along the paths. He didn’t have time for a long ride today so he settled for riding around the edge of campus.

Six o’clock was quickly approaching and he rushed home to shower and go to Y/N’s apartment. By the time he got there, Shinkai was already inside and the food they ordered was there.

“Hey.” He placed his helmet on the floor with his shoes. “Is it just the three of us?”

“Yeah.” She pulled three plates from the cabinet and moved them to the table. They all sat down to eat and the conversation quickly moved to cycling. Y/N used to be on the women’s cycling team for the university when she was an undergrad and had a lot of interesting stories the guys never got tired of hearing.

“Couldn’t you have stayed on the team since you’re doing your masters?” Shinkai asked her.

“I could have.” She shrugged. “I just couldn’t find the time. Being a TA takes up all my extra time now. I thought you guys were exhausting. This new group is way worse.” She looked at them, knowing what they were thinking. “I still practice though, so don’t get any ideas. I could still beat you guys any day of the week.”

They continued the conversation as they cleaned up the dishes. Shinkai surprised them both with dessert he brought. They put the cake on the table and each took their forks to it. Y/N remembered Kinjou wanting to talk to her about something.

“What was it that you were asking me earlier?” She turned to him after taking a bite.

“Oh.” Kinjou blushed immediately. “I—uh, we can talk about it later.”

“What was it about?” She questioned.

“It must be good if it’s making you blush that red.” Shinkai added.

“It’s just a little personal.” He stated, starting to play with a bite of cake with his fork.

“Is it about your classes?” She wondered.

“No, it’s not really related to school.” He told them.

“Is it about cycling?” Shinkai asked, taking nearly half of the slice in his mouth. “I could probably help.”

“No.” He adjusted his glasses, feeling his face getting hotter.

“I know we’re friends, but that’s literally the extent of the overlap of things we have in common.” She laughed a little and took a sip of her wine.

“I want to have sex with you.” He blurted out, his face managing to flush a deeper red. Y/N spit her wine out, spraying the table and parts of them with the splatter and coughing. “Or rather, you have sex with me… I want you to be the first person I have sex with.” Y/N was coughing still, trying to swallow the wine that didn’t make it out of her mouth.

Shinkai sat there, his mouth open, not saying a word. He was actually unsure of what he could say in the moment. He looked at Y/N, still choking then turned his gaze to Kinjou.

“I think this is a great idea.” He beamed at both of them. Y/N wiped her mouth and the table with her napkin and took a deep breath.

“Why… where is this coming from?” She asked him.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just want to do it.”

“That’s a solid reason.” Shinkai added and Y/N glared at him though she did agree. Wanting to have sex and knowing you were ready were the only requirements really. Well, that and having a partner which Kinjou seemed to think of you for this.

“But I mean why are you asking me this?” She asked. “You don’t need to pick someone just because they are around you. You know plenty of women.”

“I don’t really.” He shrugged softly and looked up at her. “I want it to be you though. Can’t it be you?”

“This is getting really good.” Shinkai murmured to himself stealing Y/N’s wine glass and drinking it himself.

“What about the other women in your classes. There’s bound to be one—”

“First of all, the way you say that is insulting, don’t you think? Bound to be?” Kinjou started. “Second, you think I should just choose a random person to lose my virginity to?”

“He has a point.” Shinkai turned to Y/N. “Plus, you took my virginity so you’re practically an expert.” He leaned back in his chair smiling.

“Shinkai, you aren’t helping.” She took her wine glass back from him. “I just mean—”

“If you don’t want to do it, just say no. Stop trying to find other women for me.” Kinjou went back to playing with the cake.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Both guys quickly looked up at her. “Do… do you even know how awkward this will be?”

“It’s just sex,” Shinkai stated simply.

“For you and me, maybe.”

“Have you even thought about what it would be like to kiss me?” She asked. Kinjou’s face dropped and he swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean that how it came out. I meant have you thought about, like… the logistics of it.”

His mouth opened and closed not being able to say anything. He had carefully considered the idea of this, but when it came down to it, he really didn’t think about how it was going to happen. Y/N looked straight at Kinjou, eyes not moving.

“Could you kiss me right now?” She asked him. “If I asked you to, could you do it now?”

Shinkai slouched in his chair trying not to be noticed, Y/N’s wine glass back in his hand. He smiled into the cup as he watched their reactions.

Kinjou couldn’t think, his eyes just stayed watching her. Was she asking him to kiss her? He didn’t plan on doing it now.Is that what she was planning? He could feel another lump in his throat making it even harder for him to speak.

“I… I—if you…” He chuckled nervously and scratched his head.

This is what he wanted, right? He was ready to lose his virginity and losing it to one of his best friends made the most sense. Until it didn’t. Could he kiss her right now? He was pretty sure she was testing him and he didn’t want to fail.

Kinjou shot up from his chair, eyes fixed on Y/N. He moved towards her with a confidence he didn’t have just a minute before.

“Holy shit,” Shinkai quietly muttered into the wine glass, barely audible to anyone but him. He slouched further into his seat, so happy that he was able to see this.

Kinjou passed the corner of the table, nearly in front of Y/N now. She felt herself sink back into her seat, feeling nervous. Where did this come from? Where was this certainty when he was asking her to have sex? Was he actually going to do this right now? Her stomach felt like it was in her throat. She hadn’t actually meant for him to kiss her now, she just wanted to make it was known how awkward it could be for them.

He was in front of her now. He hadn’t thought about how this was going to work with her sitting and him standing up, but he couldn’t think about that now, he had to make this work. He reached for her hand and pulled her up so she was standing in front of him. The same hand that held her arm moved up to hold the back of her head, cupping her jaw.

His jaw was clenching as he brought his face to hers. Does he open his mouth? Does he keep it closed? He had no idea what kiss would be good enough to convince her. Not that he had much power over that, he wasn’t really an expert with kissing either.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. This was Kinjou. This was one of her best friends. His hand was on the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. She wasn’t sure what to expect. It was possible that he would just pull her in and give her a small peck, but she could see the look in his eyes and she knew it was going to be more. As his eyes lowered to her lips, she was thankful she didn’t grimace with the thought of kissing him. If she was being honest, the closer he got to her, the more that twisted knot of excitement grew inside of her.

Their noses touched each other for a quick second before his lips were on hers. He didn’t move at first, just held his lips against hers, pressing deeply. She thought that maybe that would be it until he opened his mouth, pulling her top lip in between his. His lips were so full and plush and soft and she loved the way they felt. His movements were so careful, barely nudging her, gently shifting. She felt her heart beating as her breathing changed. She wasn’t holding her breath, but feeling his lips move like this on hers caught her breath and held onto it until she felt the wet rub of his tongue on her lips and she opened up, sharing his breath. Her hand unconsciously went to his waist and around his back, pulling him tightly.

He lightly brushed his tongue against her lip and she opened her mouth for him instantly. The motion causing a gasp to nearly escape his mouth. He adjusted his arms, moving one to her waist as their kiss got deeper. He let his tongue play around her lips for a second, enjoying the feeling. He felt her tongue brush against his, entering his mouth and he groaned quietly, squeezing her waist.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was feeling. Kinjou was definitely helping convince her that maybe this wasn’t as terrible of an idea as she originally thought. It wasn’t awkward at all at this point. At this point it was warm and soft and cozy and it had her feeling hot. His tongue felt weird on her lips at first but not for long. She could taste the chocolate cake they had been eating as she slid her tongue next to his. Kinjou groaned into her mouth, pulling her tighter and she quickly pulled away.

“That—that’s good… um.” She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back, wiping her mouth. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet.

“Fuck…” Shinkai’s voice made them both look at him, his cheeks pink. “Did you forget I was here? I nearly forgot I was here.”

Kinjou quickly sat down in the seat next to Y/N, his hand rubbing his lips slowly. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

Y/N sat down in her seat and Shinkai slid the wine glass over to her and she drank the rest in one gulp.

“Can I just say—” Shinkai started.

“Please don’t.” Y/N interrupted.

They all sat in silence for a short while. Kinjou and Y/N looked at the floor, neither one able to bring their eyes to the other. Shinkai watched both of them, a small smile on his face.

Y/N couldn’t believe she was even considering going through with this. She quickly glanced up at him, enough to see his pink cheeks and red lips and she had to look away. If she was being honest with herself, really honest with herself, she wanted to continue with that kiss and move into the bedroom. Hell, she doesn’t have any issues doing it on the table or the floor if she could. She was never going to tell either of them that though.

“God I can’t believe I am actually considering this.” She mumbled to herself then looked up at them. “If I say yes, what’s in it for me?”

“For you?” Kinjou hadn’t really thought about that. “I sort of thought the sex was the prize? Isn’t it something that we would both enjoy?”

“No,” Shinkai said, “you’re definitely getting the better end of the deal and you’re probably going to suck, but based on that kiss—”

“Shinkai, please stop talking.” She massaged her temples. “Everyone sucks. And Hayato has very low expectations for his partner.”

“God, I love when you use my first name,” he groaned, propping his head on his elbow and smiling at her.

“It doesn’t seem right to offer you another cycling shirt to have sex with me, but if you want one, I can give you one. I mean, I don’t have a lot of extra money—” Shinkai burst out laughing.

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” She closed her eyes.

“I think I would like to join in on this.” Shinkai pointed out eating another bite of cake. “I think you need a male teacher as well.”

“Shinkai, I think you need to go home.” She glared at him.

“What!” He exclaimed. “The conversation is starting to get so good!” She stood up, pulling him with her and taking him to the door. “You and I could teach him, show him some stuff—God this is getting so hot.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” She handed him his shoes.

“I need to know if you’re going to say yes.” He smiled as he whispered to her, stepping into his shoes. “You have to say yes. Please, say yes.” She handed him his coat and opened the front door. “If you don’t do it, do you think you and I—"

“Just send me an emoji.” She closed the door, but could still hear him laughing.

Y/N came back to the table and started cleaning. She put the cake in the fridge and Kinjou started picking up the forks.

“Just sit,” she told him. “I’m thinking.” She took the forks from him and he sat back down. She quickly washed them and put them away, grabbing her wine glass and filling it back up. Kinjou watched her as she sat back down at the table.

“When do you want to do this?” She asked.

“You’ll do it?” His eyes opened wide and his mouth slowly curved into a smile.

“If I’m saying I will,” she started, “when would we do it?”

“Anytime. Whenever. Tomorrow.”

“Not to sound old, but tomorrow is Thursday.” She laughed. “How about Friday?”

“Friday is good.” He pulled out his phone and started typing.

“What are you doing?” She tried to peek across the table.

“Adding it to my calendar.” He continued typing.

“Like hell you are!” She grabbed his phone and looked at it. He had added an event titled, “Dinner at Y/N’s”. “Oh.”

“Did you really think I would write exactly what we were doing?” He smiled, taking his phone as she handed it back.

“I mean, I wasn’t going to put it past you.”

“Wow. Thanks for that vote of confidence.” They both laughed, staring at each other. The moment was a little awkward, but familiar at the same time. “I guess I should get going.” They both stood up.

“Or…” she started, “I mean, it’s not even eight yet. Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure. Or…” He smiled playfully. “The weather is really nice tonight.” He looked at the window.

“Get my bike from the closet. I’m going to go change.” She ran to the room and quickly put on her riding shorts and Kinjou’s green cycling shirt.

She walked back into the living room, putting on her shoes and Kinjou raised an eyebrow at her shirt.

“It fits nicely.” She smiled.

“It does.” They made their way downstairs and unchained his bike.

“Did you have a path in mind?” She asked.

“Not really.” He buckled his helmet.

“Okay, I’ve got one.” They got on their bikes. “Follow me.”

[slashhinginghasher]

Closet Space - Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Self-indulgent college AU? Self-indulgent college AU.

College senior Jesse Cromeans makes out with a hot international student at a frat party.

-

Jesse Cromeans and Caitlin Spann didn’t often go to frat parties anymore. The connections they’d gathered over the course of four years of business internships were enough to gain them access to real parties, not the desperate orgies of cheap sex and cheaper beer their peers engaged in. The Incident in their junior year also left Jesse reluctant to show his newly scarred face more than absolutely necessary. (Watching CEOs do lines of coke off of strippers’ tits in the hopes of getting a few business cards by the end of the night was necessary. Beer pong was not.) He’d made lots of excuses in that regard, and Spann was good enough not to call him out on it. But winter term was over, they’d both received their early acceptances from the Stanford School of Business, and tonight they felt like celebrating on somebody else’s dime.

They still made sure to choose one of the more monied fraternities. They did have standards, after all.

Old money or not, the inside of the frat house was still chaos. There was a massive, professionally decorated Christmas tree in the living room, which would be largely stripped of its ornaments and tinsel by drunk college kids come morning. Many of the girls had their tits out despite the winter chill, lots of skimpy, crushed velvet dresses and coquettish faux fur trim. Jesse was bombarded with greetings as soon as they walked through the door, and he fielded them with quickly waning patience as Spann drifted off to go do Spann things. He’d achieved a somewhat legendary status on campus after turning a first year stock market exercise into millions of real dollars. Spann had been his partner on that project, but she was perfectly content to take her cut of the money and leave the credit to him. She preferred to work in the background, claiming she got more done when she didn’t have to deal with the interpersonal bullshit politics that Jesse navigated so well.

He eventually wound up in the kitchen, where a steady stream of party-goers helped themselves to overpriced snacks (who put out charcuterie boards at a frat party, honestly?) and mixed half-assed cocktails that were 10% mixer at best. A couple groped at each other next to the pantry, and a short girl with dark, wild hair and an intense expression surveyed the stream of human traffic over the rim of a red solo cup. Jesse poured himself another whiskey and leaned against the island next to her.

PLANNING A MURDER?

The girl jumped slightly at the sound of his phone’s electronic voice, then glanced at him with startlingly blue eyes. She scoffed and took a swig of what looked like water or straight vodka.

“Just contemplating, not planning.” Her voice was lower than Jesse expected from someone her size, with a thick Eastern European accent. His lips twitched with a smile. He did always like them sharp, and a good chase was just what he needed tonight.

YOU DON’T SEEM TO BE ENJOYING YOURSELF.

“I’m not.”

THEN WHY COME?

“I’m fucking poor, and there’s free food.” As if to make a point, she turned around and started rummaging through the fridge like she owned the place. Jesse found himself at a loss for words, a laugh stuck halfway between his chest and his throat.

IF YOU’RE THAT POOR HOW DO YOU AFFORD THIS PLACE?

Jesse and Spann would graduate debt-free thanks to their stock market exploits, but the tuition at their university was… hefty, to say the least. He imagined it would be even worse for an international student.

“They gave me a lot of money because I am very sad orphan girl. And I am also devastatingly sexy,” she said, emerging from the fridge and shoving half a slice of pizza into her mouth in one bite. She flashed him a peace sign that somehow managed to be blisteringly sarcastic and sauntered away with her prize.

She was wearing a heavy plaid skirt that hit mid-calf, her black top looked like it had been run through a woodchipper and reassembled with safety pins, and she was eating stolen pizza straight out of the box.

Jesse wholly agreed with her self-assessment. The sexy part, at least.

***

He was still thinking about her an hour later when Spann sidled up on her platform stilettos, her balance impeccable despite her obvious intoxication.

“There’s a group of loudmouths gathering ‘round the pool table in the basement,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. “You in a betting mood?”

“A hunting mood,” he signed.

“Ooooh.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically. “Got your sights set on anyone?”

“I might.”

Most people thought Spann and Jesse were an item just because they lived together and spent almost every public moment attached at the hip. Which were pretty good reasons, when one thought about it. But Spann was largely a commitment girl, and Jesse was decidedly not. Spann didn’t want to be a metaphorical notch on a bedpost; Jesse didn’t want to be tied down. They’d made out once as an experiment at the end of their freshman year, then hashed out the boundaries of their relationship in a five-minute conversation that they’d followed ever since.

Jesse had no idea why other people had to make relationships so damn complicated.

Before Spann could convince Jesse to come watch her annihilate some frat boys at pool, the fraternity president approached them. He was a douchebag of the highest order - the type of guy who insisted on being addressed by his last name because his first name was Edwin or Briggsley or some other rich prick idiocy - and Jesse and Spann both hated him, but his obscenely wealthy father would be a useful business contact in the future, so they forced themselves to be cordial.

“Some of the girls are organizing a game of Truth or Dare in the den. You feeling bold, Caitlin?” he asked with a cocky grin. He was also the sort of douchebag who addressed all women by their first name, including his professors and women like Spann who could break his spine over their knee.

“No, thank you,” Spann said, cold and sweet as ice cream. “I finished high school years ago.” He laughed, the insult and the rejection rolling harmlessly off his shiny money veneer, and turned to Jesse.

“How about you, Cromeans?” Jesse was on the verge of saying no when he saw a mane of black hair being led, somewhat reluctantly, towards the small crowd gathering in the den. He shrugged with practiced nonchalance and held up his phone.

SURE, WHY THE FUCK NOT?

“Atta boy!” President Edwin Briggsley Douchebag III clapped him on the shoulder, and Jesse had to force himself not to break the twat’s hand. The other boy left to continue his rounds, recruiting anything with a pair of tits for his little game. Spann - god damn her fucking eagle eyes - had tracked Jesse’s gaze and was now grinning deviously.

“I heard she has sessions with Malloy every other week,” she whispered in his ear, referring to one of the lead staff at the university’s mental health clinic. “Condition of her enrollment.”

Now that was interesting.

“Happy hunting,” she cackled, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. “I’m off to make some rich boys cry.”

***

People were so dreadfully predictable, Jesse thought. Nearly ten people in and not a hint of creativity to be found. People who chose Truth were asked to recount their sexual history or most embarrassing moments; those who picked Dare were promptly relieved of articles of clothing. The object of his momentary obsession appeared to be having similar thoughts as she watched the proceedings with heavy-lidded boredom. The crowd booed as one of the boys dared a girl to kiss him and she threw herself at him with great enthusiasm.

“That’s not a real dare, you’re her fucking boyfriend!” someone protested. The girl stuck her tongue out at them, then shoved it back in her boyfriend’s mouth. There were more jeers and whistles and a few calls for them to get a room. One of the boys tried to get back everyone’s attention.

“Alright, alright, whatever, next victim!” He pointed at Jesse’s girl and trailed off, apparently realizing he didn’t know her name.

“Mareeeennnnaaaaa!” cooed the girl who’d roped her in to the game, dragging the vowels out in a drunken sing-song.

“Marena!” the boy announced. Marena quirked a brow, apparently unimpressed with his pronunciation. “Truth or dare!”

“Dare,” she said with zero hesitation. The boy honest to god rubbed his hands together and grinned like he was about to say something genius.

“Twenty minutes in heaven.” Not that genius, then. He grabbed the closest empty beer bottle and held it up with two fingers. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets locked in a closet with you for twenty minutes.”

Like hell was Jesse going to let one of these dumb fucks get her alone for even one minute.

“I thought it was normally seven minutes.”

“Are you backing out?” Marena flipped him off as an answer and snatched the bottle from him, sending it spinning with an elegant flick of her fingers.

She had a few whitish scars on her hand and wrist, barely visible in the low light.

Jesse tensed as the bottle slowed, frantically thinking up reasons to start a fight with whoever it landed on. But his efforts were unnecessary, because the universe and physics were on his side that night. The crowd erupted into a clamor of hoots and hollers like someone had just won the lottery. None of them had really expected Jesse to participate; he had connections and status and thus was too cool to be anything more than a silent watcher. President Douchebag ushered the pair to the nearest closet - a walk-in (fortunately for Jesse’s long limbs) that had been converted to a coat room for the night - leering at Jesse like they were good buddies who’d discuss the relative merits of European pussy over drinks later. Jesse ignored him and, ever the gentleman, gestured Marena in before him with a little half bow. Her head barely reached his chest as she passed him wordlessly; she was only a little taller than Spann and she was wearing flats. The door was shut and they were plunged into darkness, the sounds of the party muffled by the thick wood.

A few seconds of quiet stillness passed before Marena turned on her phone (which was at least three models out of date), using the light from the (cracked) screen as a flashlight. She looked ghostly in the faint, bluish light, the shadows deepened in the hollows of her eye sockets. Jesse leaned back against the door and folded his arms as she started a slow circuit of the tiny room, observing the winter jackets twisted haphazardly on every available hanger and piled in the corners on the floor. He would have loved to immediately start making use of his twenty minutes, but there was something animal and twitchy about the way she moved that made him think that any sudden moves would be met with teeth. She did not look at him, or at the way his posture and shirt emphasized the size of his biceps, which he didn’t like, and he really didn’t like the tension creeping into her slender shoulders. When he touched her arm to get her attention, she jolted as though shot.

YOU GOOD?

The amount of time she spent mulling over the question was a clear enough “no”, but she still answered anyway.

“The last time I was locked in a closet was… unpleasant.”

UNPLEASANT IN WHAT WAY?

Thoughts of high school boys with beer breath and over-insistent hands were filling him with a slow rage.

“In a ‘listening to someone be violently murdered outside the door’ way.”

Well, damn. Okay.

WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Marena snapped.

I CAN DISTRACT YOU ANOTHER WAY IF YOU LIKE.

She resumed her pacing, chewing her lip, but she looked more contemplative than tense. Jesse was acutely aware of the ticking clock.

“When did you lose your voice?”

I NEVER HAD ONE.

“What happened to your face?”

NOW WHO’S ASKING TOO MANY QUESTIONS?

“Answer it and you can distract me however you want.”

He didn’t need a business degree to know that he was being offered a fantastic fucking deal.

I PICKED A FIGHT WITH THE WRONG PERSON.

Jesse barely waited for the electronic voice to finish the last syllable before tossing his phone to the floor and charging her. He burrowed both hands into that black mass of hair and crushed his lips to hers like a starving man. Her skin was cool, but he felt her hands like brands through his shirt when she placed them against his chest for balance. He tightened his grip on her hair, hard enough to pull slightly on her scalp, and let one hand wander lower, fingertips catching on safety pins and ripped fabric as he made his way down to the modest curve of her ass. In turn, her touch moved upwards, exploring the muscles of his chest and shoulders, sliding up his neck until her thumbs rested firmly over his jugular. It was a bold move, dominant, and he wanted - needed - to get closer to her, to press her body against his in a way their height difference would not currently allow.

Marena wrapped her legs around him with no coaxing when he picked her up by the waist, walking forwards until her back pressed flat against the door. She was so light, like a little hollow-boned bird, and if he’d had a little more blood in his brain he’d be worried about crushing her. As it was, his blood was rapidly migrating south and the only thing he was concerned about was the taste of her as he nibbled on her full lower lip. He nipped at her, hard enough to sting, then soothed the hurt with his tongue, and was surprised when her tongue darted forward to meet his. He rolled his hips into hers, slow and deep, as he explored her mouth, wishing there was less clothing in the way. His cock was pressed painfully against his zipper, but he made no move to free it; he was not going to fuck her for the first time under a time constraint.

Finally, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both panted for air. Jesse shoved a hand up Marena’s shirt, closing over her small breast and rubbing his thumb against the hardening nub of her nipple through her bra. Her head rolled back against the door with a soft thunk, granting him access to the soft skin of her throat. He latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and Marena purred. The sound shot straight to his groin, and he had a sudden, intense desire to bite down until the salty warmth of her blood filled his mouth and dripped down his chin.

He wrenched back. Jesse was no stranger to violent impulses - had even followed through on quite a few of them - but he didn’t want to ruin the evening by murdering this girl in a closet. Undeterred, Marena grabbed his head with both hands and attacked his mouth with hers. She kissed him ferociously, voraciously, a clash of teeth and tongue, and when she bit his lip hard enough to make him bleed, he almost came on the spot. His hands were all over her, needing to feel every inch of her body but barely registering the ridges of scar tissue they encountered. She slid her hands into his back pockets and pulled him in until his pelvis was flush against hers. He leaned in with his full weight, and the only thing in the world that existed was the heavy grind of his hips against hers and the hot, wet dance of their mouths.

He was so close to saying fuck it, ripping her clothes off and going to town right there on the closet floor, when someone pounded on the door.

“Knock knock, Cromeans! Put your dick away!” Jesse snarled, already planning a way to slaughter the little asshole who’d interrupted the best not-fuck of his life. The sensation of Marena’s body sliding against his as she settled on her feet sent another lightning bolt of pleasure down his spine. There was a shuffle of fabric as Marena picked up her phone and tried to put herself back in order. Jesse didn’t bother; he knew they both looked a damn mess and he didn’t give a single fuck. In fact, the only thing he cared about at the moment was getting her into his bed so he could finish what he’d started.

“Thanks for the distraction,” Marena murmured, opening the door to a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles. She rolled her eyes and started shouldering her way through the crowd. She didn’t look back, which stung a little, and Jesse gave a sarcastic little salute to the crowd to avoid looking like a lovelorn asshole before retreating to the basement.

***

He didn’t realize until much later in the evening that she’d stolen his fucking wallet.

[princess-of-riviaa]

Bewitching the Witcher Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Summary: Geralt grows more desperate in his search for a cure as you continue to get sicker. Meanwhile, you’re trying to mend to your broken heart while clinging desperately to sanity. Geralt still refuses to go anywhere near you. You’re desperate to change that.

Series Summary: You and The Witcher aren’t meant to be together. In fact, the only thing you two should be doing is getting as far away from each other as fast as you can. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t. But he’s just too tempting to resist.

Author’s note: This story will have one more part after this (5 parts in total). As my first Geralt fic and series that I’ve written for tumblr, it makes me as ecstatic as a kid in a candy shop that so many people have kept up with this story and enjoyed it. I love all of my followers for their continuous support and thank everyone who has invested even a few minutes to read some of my writing.

Warning(s): yeah this one’s gonna be another heartbreaker, sorry about that; smut isn’t until later in the story; masturbation (f), voyeurism, fingering, oral (f receiving)

Nothing was the same after you got sick.

Geralt went on a rampage, rushing you and Jaskier to every town in search of a mage or a medic who might know a remedy to heal you. None did. He went through pounds of coin everyday, since every mage and medic demanded your money just to for them to examine you. When Geralt wasn’t tearing the streets of each town in desperation, he was off hunting, if only so he’d get more coin to ask more mages and medics a question that couldn’t be answered.

Jaskier worked just as hard. He went with Geralt to every person who had any knowledge in medicine. When Geralt was off hunting, Jaskier was performing anywhere he good get good coin. And when he wasn’t doing either of those things, he was by your side. He kept you company in the terrifying hours when your deliriousness took over, if only because Geralt refused to be anywhere near you when the sickness took hold of your mind. Jaskier was the one to remind you of where you were and what was going on--and, in the nights when your deliriousness got really bad, he reminded you who you were, too. Jaskier quickly became your best friend. You loved him as much as you loved Geralt; in a different way, of course, but just as intensely. Having him by your side was, for a while, the only thing that kept you going.

While Geralt and Jaskier stayed busy night and day, you barely managed to stay on your feet. You get worse with each passing day. It started with just passing out for hours at a time; scary, but nothing you couldn’t handle. When you were awake and functioning, you felt normal. Geralt even still let you go on hunts with him. And then, a couple days later, your entire body began feeling weak constantly. It took it out of you just to walk a few miles. You slept any chance you had. Still, you never felt refreshed. A couple days after that was when you began experiencing delirious spells. At first it was just small things--you lost track of time and couldn’t remember what town you were in. Everyone really began to panic when you had to ask Jaskier’s name one evening. Memories began fading right in front of your eyes and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You never forgot about your heartache, though. You hated being away from Geralt now, but you probably hated being near him just as much. He never looked at you anymore. He always kept distance between you and him. It hurt so much more than the pain in your head. Some nights you’d stay awake crying, just begging for your sickness to make you forget about Geralt. Maybe then you’d be able to find some peace in your last few days. But you never forgot. And you could never escape him. He haunted you even in your dreams. At least in your dreams he spoke to you, even if it was just to spit in your face and say that your sickness disgusted him. You disgusted yourself, too. You were no longer a Witcher. You were the walking dead.

...

After three weeks, you finally stumbled upon someone with answers in Temeria: another Witcher. The three of you found the woman in a bar of a nameless town. With her fighting leathers and countless swords and daggers, it was clear to anyone that she was a Witcher. You and Jaskier exchanged a hopeful look as Geralt neared her.

“Witcher, we need your help,” you heard Geralt say as you huddled by the door with Jaskier. Luckily your Witcher senses were still in tact. You didn’t have to strain to hear Geralt from the other side of the room.

The woman didn’t even look up at him before spitting, “I don’t clan with other Witchers. I fight my monsters on my own.”

“I don’t need your help to kill,” Geralt said in his deep, husky voice. “I need your help to save someone.”

“What’s going on?” Jaskier wondered beside you. “What are they saying?”

You held up a hand to show you were still listening to them.

The female Witcher finally looked over at Geralt and took him in. “Saving what?”

Geralt hesitated. “Another Witcher.”

The Witcher laughed. “You’re stupider than you look. There’s no potion or tonic that can’t fix an injury.”

Geralt swallowed. “It’s not that kind of an injury.”

Silence.

You waited for the blow, for the Witcher to spew insults at Geralt. But all she said was, “You really are stupider than you look.”

Geralt said nothing in defense.

“Where’s The Witcher?” the female asked.

You began moving towards Geralt. Jaskier helped you walk, letting you lean on him if you got tired. It took you a full minute to cross the bar when it should have taken twenty seconds.

The female Witcher took you in. She eyed your pale skin, the bags under your eyes, the bones sticking out in all the wrong places. The way she looked at you would have made your cheeks with embarrassment, but people had been looking at you like that for weeks now. So instead you held her gaze and dared her to say what she was really thinking.

“How long have you been sick?” The Witcher asked you.

Geralt answered for you. “Nearly three weeks. Is there anything you know to do? Any remedy or potion to cure this?”

The Witcher looked between you and Geralt. “Lying with other Witchers is forbidden for a reason.” She picked up a scarred finger and pointed at you. “This is the reason.”

“You’re not the first person to spit in our faces that it’s an abomination,” you said, because you knew Geralt wouldn’t defend either of you. “We knew of the rules. We aren’t stupid.”

“If lack of intelligence isn’t your issue, it’s hubris,” she said. “Did you really think that you two could break the rule and you’d be the lucky ones? Did you really not expect any repercussions to your lust?”

You were quiet. You had, actually. That first time with Geralt you’d been waiting for someone to swing the axe, but when nothing had happened, you thought... You’d been stupid. You’d let your hope blind you. The universe didn’t pick sides--especially not for Witchers.

“Is there a cure or not?” Geralt growled.

The Witcher looked back at him. There was a flash of pity in her eyes that broke her nonchalant mask. “She’s been sick for three weeks, Witcher. You already know the answer to that question.” She looked back at you. “The only cure for your sickness is death.”

The Witcher had barely gotten the words out before Geralt was on his feet and charging out the door. You and Jaskier rushed after him. You weren’t nearly fast enough to keep up, but you knew where he was headed.

He was deep in the woods, sitting beside a quiet river when you found him. You looked at Jaskier and asked for him to give you and Geralt a moment. He said he would meet you two back in town and find an inn for you to stay the night. You nodded your thanks before watching him walk off. Reluctantly, you turned your attention to Geralt.

The sight of him broke you. You wanted nothing more than to run to him and feel his big arms hold you to him. You wanted to rest your head against his chest and feel his calm heartbeat. You wanted to kiss him until the sun went down, until the sun came back up. You wanted him so much it was killing you.

“There’s no cure,” he said, knowing you were behind him, knowing you were looking at him with longing. “There’s no damn cure!” He’d been holding a medium-sized rock in his hand and now threw it into the river. It skipped over the water three times before sinking below the surface.

You walked to his side and leaned against a tree beside him. It took everything inside of you not to reach out and run your hands through his hair. “It’s okay.”

He rose to his feet in a flash and turned on you, his eyes burning bright with anger. “How the hell am I supposed to be okay with this?!”

You were quiet. In the beginning, all you and Geralt had done was fight. You’d bicker and snap at each other endlessly. But he never yelled at you. He’d never looked at you like this--like he wanted to hurt you.

Fear must have been written on your face because he took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I’m sorry.” He hung his head, no doubt turning his anger inward now.

You stepped towards him. “I’m in love with you, Geralt of Rivia.”

He looked up at you, surprise written all over his face. He wasn’t expecting that to be your next words. “Y/N--”

“No.” There was a demand in your voice. “I’m going to say this, because I haven’t said it for three weeks and it’s been killing me, and you’re going to shut up and listen.”

When he didn’t say anything, you continued.

“I’m in love with you, Geralt. I’m so in love with you I can’t see straight. I can’t fucking breathe when you’re not next to me. I love you with everything inside of me. That’s why I’m saying it’s okay. Because I am more than willing to die for you. I actually can’t think of a better way to go out.”

His features hardened the longer you spoke. “So it’s fine for you to die. Fine. But what about the rest of us you’re leaving behind?” He stepped towards you, the angry look on his face morphing into one of pain. “What about me, Y/N? What the fuck am I supposed to do when you’re dead and it’s my fault?”

“I chose this!” You argued. “I chose to be with you again and again. We both knew what we were getting ourselves into and we did it anyway. That Witcher was right--we can’t evade the consequences. So if this is what I get for all those times I kissed you and felt you touch me...” A knot formed in your throat. Your body ached for him to touch you again, and he was so close... “It was worth it to me, Geralt. I chose this path. You don’t get to take that away from me and blame it on yourself.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and breathed you in. You closed your eyes in bliss. This was the most he’d touched you in almost a month. You ached to move closer to him, but feared he would run if you did.

“I don’t let myself need anyone,” he whispered. “That’s not a luxury I can afford, not when I’m a Witcher. But you, Y/N, gods... how am I supposed to live without you?”

You brushed your fingers over his hair with a featherlight touch, unable to resist any longer. “I’ll still be with you even when I’m... not.” You pressed your hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch. “I’ll always be here, even centuries from now. You’ll feel me beside you everytime you hunt a berserker. You’ll feel me everytime you hear Jaskier play one of his ridiculous songs. Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere, Geralt. I don’t think my soul knows how to leave you.”

When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at your mouth. You were mere inches apart from each other. The closest you’d been in so long...

You kissed him. Before he could pull back or say something to ruin the moment, you kissed him. It was a simple brush of your mouth against his, hardly even a kiss, but you felt his desire with that simple touch. You realized he’d been missing you just as much as you���d been aching for him. Your body burned as he kissed you harder, pulling you against him, and you let out a groan when you felt his hardening cock press against your stomach.

“Geralt...” you moaned.

And then he pulled away from you. You let out a whimper at the sudden loss of touch. You knew you couldn’t ask him to kiss you again. You were grateful he’d even let down his guard enough to do it once. Geralt wouldn’t be going near you anytime soon.

The two of you walked back to town in silence.

...

Your body was still burning long after the taste of him left your mouth. You were on edge, unable to find comfort no matter what you did that night. Geralt and Jaskier watched you leave as you retired early for the night. Hopefully some distance from him would help. It didn’t.

You tossed and turned for hours in your bed. Your body ached for him badly enough that now you couldn’t even find peace in sleep. There was only one thing left to do.

You threw the blankets back and spread your legs, imagining it was Geralt’s thick, scarred fingers touching your most intimate parts. Wetness was already pooled between your legs. You had no doubt that you’d been wet all evening. His simple kiss had awakened a fire inside of you that had cooled since your sickness began, but now it was burning hotter than ever. You moved your fingers in a circle over your clit, whimpering out Geralt’s name.

You knew how to touch yourself; you’d been on your own for centuries, you’d had to learn how to satisfy your own cravings at some point. But Geralt had learned every part of your body in these last few months. He knew what parts of you to touch to make you ache; what parts of your body made you scream when they were given just the slightest bit of attention; and he knew where to touch and kiss to make you go over the edge again and again and again. His hands felt a million times better than yours ever could.

Imagining him hovering over you, his glorious tongue licking between your folds, his hands holding you down by your hips as you writhed against him, was enough to make your pussy clench around nothing. You moaned his name again as you clenched the bedsheets next to you. This was doing nothing to help your cravings. If anything, it only made you ache for him more.

A groan from the doorway made you freeze. You opened your eyes with a gasp and looked over to see Geralt in the doorway. His eyes were dark with an animalistic lust as his gaze locked on your fingers between your legs. Even from the bed you could see the thick outline of his cock straining against his pants.

“Geralt,” you half-gasped, half-moaned.

His eyes jumped to yours. His entire body was tense, as if it took all the strength inside of him not to close the distance between you two and devour you right then and there.

“Please,” you begged. You needed him. You needed his fingers, his tongue. Only he could bring you to release.

“Y/N--” he began to protest. Even his voice was strained.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice breaking with need.

He lost all control. In two strides he was on the bed, hovering over you between your hips. He took in the sight of your pussy and the wetness that pooled around it.

“Give me your finger,” he demanded.

You brought your hand to him, the one you’d touched yourself with, and moaned like a whore as you watched him lick the juices off of it. He hummed with approval at the taste. You bucked your hips up impatiently. You needed something, anything, or you swear you’d go insane.

He didn’t wait any longer. His mouth was on you a second later and the mere lick of his tongue on your clit nearly threw you over the edge. He gripped your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his tongue devoured you. You were screaming in a matter of seconds. Your fingers tugged on his hair, pulling his mouth impossibly closer to your heat.

Your legs clenched together as he inserted a thick finger inside of you. He nudged your legs apart again. A simple flex of his finger had you moaning loudly enough you knew Jaskier could hear you on the other side of the wall. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. A moment later Geralt inserted another finger. He curled his fingers in a gentle motion just enough for them to brush your g-spot.

“Daddy!” You cried out, feeling your orgasm nearing.

He hummed in approval as you lost control. You could feel the vibrations of his voice against your pussy, stimulating it even more. His fingers moved faster inside of you until your legs clenched around him and you came all over his fingers. He licked up your juices as they spilled out of you.

“You taste so good, baby girl,” he said against your heat. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Once he’d licked up all your juices and left a few tender kisses on the inside of your thighs, he rose to leave.

You bolted up. “Wait!”

He stopped at the foot of your bed, watching you with a frown. “Yes?”

You swallowed, knowing what you were about to ask would only be answered with rejection. But you dared to ask anyways. “Will you stay? Just for tonight.”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Please, Geralt,” you whimpered. “I just want to sleep beside you. We don’t have to do anything. I just want to fall asleep in your arms one last time.”

He hesitated, but finally lied down on the bed again. You watched him in shock as he got under the covers. You truly thought he would say no.

“Just to sleep,” he said.

You nodded before lying down beside him. You two were quiet for a long time, just listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing. And then you felt a hand caress your face in the darkness. You moved closer to him. Your legs tangled between his as your head rested on his chest. You fell asleep to the soothing sound of his slow heartbeat, his fingers running through your hair.

It was the last good sleep you would ever have.