#it was 11 pages on the google doc i used
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this writing shit hard man
#lore: i try to make myself do creative writing on tuesdays and thursdays. my success varies every week#if you ever see me poasting between like 10 and 11:30 it means that ive failed. But That's Okay#i started off with transcribing older stuff I had saved on my Google docs onto my laptop just for like#rewritiing's sake to get into the groove#but now im moving fully into Original Wholesale Thoughts and like fuuuuck#i never was like a Super Avid Writer (i have only one work that id argue is complete and I still want to rewrite#for Many Various Reasons) but damn doing all of it from scratch is like. It feels sisyphean#like putting my ocs to page and having to Really think about Actually What Kind Of Person Are They?#like making figurines from mud or some shit it's hard to shape what's been abstract ideas for so so long#like today I was writing the first Encounter(tm) with my favorite oc#the one that I arguably should know what her characterization is now because I play touys with her so much#but then she's talking to someone and her body language is weird and im like damn. what Would she say#and that's a weird thought to have because like Shiiiit man you should know what she says you fucking made her#but then I look at my art of her and how I imagine her character to be and how it's really going and it's like Idk Man#like when I was doing today she is lowkey like. A lot more intimidating than I thought she'd be#But I feel like that's mostly because in my head she's just wow silly oc that I like :D (even though my favorite drawing#of her is her getting fucking murdered) but like She's A Whole Ass Politician she's a grown ass woman#with a scary ass voice and mysterious demeanor She Has To Act The Part#and I might be making her into a bigger bitch than she actually is but that's ok heart emoji first draft it dodnt count#It Really Makes Me Think. hooray using the brain
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when im writing a fic and i start getting discouraged i like to increase the font size or spacing to make it look longer like im writing a college essay
#changed font point from 11 to 12 and we gained 4 pages let's go#i can't figure out how to increase spacing in google docs#real talk i fucking hate google docs#but i write across like 3 different computers and i dont know what else to use
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â introducing 013: NEO-NOIRE + [ link ]
a semi-mobile friendly google doc template inspired by brutalist posters, the matrix, and cool fighter types. one of my longest single muse templates yet, this document comes with space for a lot of writing and many images! this template also comes with 9 PSDs, all labelled with their corresponding pages, to easily resize, texture and colour your images to fit the template! this premium template and a full page-by-page preview can be found in the link above or in the source link.
features:
10 unique 8.5" x 11" pages with a lot of space for writing, and plenty of space for pictures
additional miscellaneous pages such as outfits, inventory and even headcanons for you to have fun fleshing out your character
9 PSDs with texture, grain and colour to edit your photo to the right sizes to fit into the template's aesthetic easily!
all pages that can be easily rearranged, copied and duplicated for more!
terms of use:
you may edit to your heartâs desire. Change the colours, replace, add or remove elements and images etc.
you may remix pages with pages from my other templates.
you may not remove the credit from the templates.
you may not copy, sell or redistribute my templates whether wholesale, in part (i.e. taking out certain pages) or remixed (i.e. modified).
you will also receive an additional guide with images on how to use and edit google doc templates! if you have any problems or issues, feel free to leave an ask or join our discord server.
I love 1-bit colour schemes so much and this was extremely fun to build, right down to looking for the right placeholder images to pull off the vibe. I hope you'll like this template as much as I do! you have my eternal gratitude for likes + reblogs (and comments!), it really pushes me to go further and put out more content for the community. âĄ
#google doc template#google docs template#muse template#rp template#fave#m#m pr#rp resource#muse doc
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â 004 , CRACKED POMEGRANATE . . . moody masterdoc template: 8 pages, single muse, used for keeping all of a character's information in one document. includes a title page with a list of contents, a "basics" page for the character's main information and their major character beats that have to exist in every AU they're in, a 2 page personality section (for paragraphs and lists alike), a 2 page appearance section (for paragraphs and lists as well), a connections page to showcase characters they know in every AU they're in, and a links section for related documents or links. this document is not mobile friendly due to the drawings it uses for the titles. if you intend on editing most of the images, you will need a PC and an editing software of some sort to get the gradient affect - apps with a "gradient map" effect will also work. the page is letter size (8.5'' x 11'') in landscape format. if you're using, please keep the credit in the "Links" section and consider a like and reblog. goes a long way to help creators out. model used: tanya ravichandran hexcodes for the images, darkest to lightest: 1b0000 - redblack 150000 - redblack 081f02 - green 3b241b - brown 651b29 - deep red b61936 - pinkred c4496c - pink bb9c50 - yellow fff5ce - yellowwhite HOW TO USE select the 'file' button. from there, you'll find the 'make a copy' button. click it, and then you can name your doc and go from there! do not request access. this doc uses a few tables so i suggest having some knowledge on how they work if you plan on editing anything about the appearance of them. i also recommend keeping your text around the same number of lines as shown in the template. it prevents the doc from going all wonky! to edit the images, select your own image and edit it within a separate software. be sure to maximize the gradient effect with the listed hexcodes above. click the original image and select the "replace image" button. i suggest making sure the images you want to add are a similar style to the original - make the cut-outs from the original into your own cutouts, make the full images from the original your own full images. the titles/hollowed text for each section are done using google drawings. if you'd like to edit them, double click the text, and you'll be in drawings. double click the first letter and change it to the one you'd like, and do the same with the other part of the word. photos in the 'connections' section are also created in drawings. they can be replaced by double clicking the picture, then once you're in drawings you can select the photo, select 'replace image,' and set it to the one you'd like instead. the pink star symbols/emojis are for inserting links. copy your link, highlight the star, click the little 'insert link' button beside the highlighter button, and insert your link. after that you should be good to go! if you have any questions or issues that arise, please let me know. have fun!
#google docs#google docs template#roleplay#rp resources#rp template#oc template#oc sheet#character template#roleplay resources#rp doc template#rp docs template#gdocs#gdocs template#templates#roleplay template#roleplay blog#writing template
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Dude, I justâ I made a Tumblr account to follow you JANDKSND and ask for a request đ€§đ€§
Can we have some of Kyley-B x reader? đ”âđ« I would like to read a clichĂ© of the innocent girl and the bad boy who incites her to do illicit things (with smut, of course). đđđđ
Heeeeeyaaaaaa my first request! â€ïž
I am so so so so sorry for taking so long to get to it. Really need to make my writing more speedy and efficient.
Hope you liked it, and once again, really damn sorry đđđ
Also, a belated merry christmas/happy holidays to everyone!
Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene
Also available on ao3!
Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.
Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Doggy Style Position
A/N: Gods was this one hard. I never imagined writing Kyley-B would be this hard. Props to everyone who has managed thus far, because this guy wrestled against me in my mind for the whole 14 pages of the Google Docs and even now that I'm posting it I'm not sure I actually won.
I tried my hardest to put together what an adult version of Jersey Kyle would be if he really donned the mantle. Hope I did him justice.
The story of how my life changed forever was rooted in New Jersey, but happened nowhere near there.
When I applied to work at the South Park Public Library, I thought it would be an easy task. Library work in a small secluded town, in a day and age where people mostly forgot about physical books due to the convenience of Kindles or their own phones? How hard can it be? Turns out, very. The place greatly suffered from a lack of useful employees, so I ended up doing a lot of extra work that had nothing to do with what I was hired for, with no extra pay, when the salary was already not that stellar to begin with. Not a great headstart for a fresh-out-of-college English major such as myself, but it was this or the 7/11.
Days like that one kind of made the whole thing worth it, though. Summer weekends in the middle of July, when all the students were on vacation and people lacked the urge to read in favor of other activities, and the only people that would actually visit the library would be soft-spoken loners who just craved the social connection but at the same time didnât want to chase it. In those days, I was able to just sit back on my chair at the reception counter and take full advantage of the amount of books around me, reading to my heartâs content for almost a full eight hours and getting paid for it.
Such a situation is how I found myself at that particular moment. Curled up as well as I could get in my tiny office chair, my shoes forgotten under the desk in favor of the comfort of being barefoot, yet another book in my hands that wasnât part of my enormous âTo Readâ list. It was all cruising up to be another quiet and peaceful day, just a few check outs and some small talk.
Except it wasnât.
I heard the sizzling of a dynamiteâs wick before seeing a full blown atomic bomb. Loud squeaky sounds of sneaker soles trudging across the hardwood, strings of profanities being spewed with each step, followed by the shocked gasps of some of the people seated nearby and their hurried movement as they got out of the way in every direction. Noise like this would usually have me kindly remind its emitter of the setting around them and beg for more silence, but as I raised my eyes from my book, I knew it would be of no use.
Already in front of the counter was one of the most obnoxious-looking men I had ever seen. His blazing curly red hair was slicked back with an obscene amount of gel on it, to the point where it made me wonder if it just started to stay that way after his showers. I couldnât see him from the waist down, but he was wearing a loose fit wife beater, showing off the muscles of his arms in all their âgloryâ. A golden chain dangled around his neck, clearly fake, the paint already chipped in places where its links connected. His tanned skin already looked out of place in the cold town in the middle of the mountains, where its citizens were mostly pale due to never seeing enough sun to actually get a tan to begin with - but this man was just a few shades away from orange, painfully artificial, heâd stand out like a sore thumb no matter where he was.
âThatâs right, you better fucking go, bitch!â The loud addition to my peaceful workplace called out angrily, looking over his shoulder, finishing up his threats on the last bypasser he could before turning his face forward again, which finally let me take a good look at his features. There I saw which had to be the only real thing about him - intense olive eyes that glinted with a fire unknown to me, pure passion and energy, the type that could either burn someone to the ground or keep them warm and safe in the winters. Right now, however, they could set the entire library ablaze by sheer feral glares alone.
I hurriedly scrambled to adjust my position in my seat and rested my book to the side of my computer. âGood afternoon and welcome to the South Park Public Library, restrooms are at the end of the first corridor to the left,â my explanation was kind and gentle, accompanied by a gesture of my hand in the general direction I spoke of.
âI donât wanna know about no fuckinâ toilet,â the man spat, as if me merely opening my mouth to say something that was of no use to him was enough to make him angry beyond measure, âIâm here to return this.â
With an unneeded display of strength that made all the other items in the counter shake slightly, he slammed a book on it in front of me, his hand staying splayed on top of the cover, allowing me to see that his fingers were fully decked out in fake gold rings in the same fashion of his chain.
Even without seeing the full thing, I recognized that book immediately. My eyes widened. If I was to be honest, I didnât even imagine the guy in front of me was capable of reading to begin with - and the book he brought was such difficult literature, even I struggled with it at first, so to imagine he deliberately checked that one out and allegedly read it to completion flabbergasted me.
I forced myself to blink and reel back from my shock before continuing the interaction. Get it together, I told myself mentally. My mother told me all the time to never judge a book by its cover - even if that defeated the whole purpose of book cover graphic designers to begin with -, and this was what I was doing right now; letting my prejudices get in the way of what could be a healthy interaction with a fellow bookworm.
Lightly, I placed my hands on the sides of the book and pulled it slowly towards me, letting it slide under his palm, which I avoided touching altogether lest it make him more angry. âOf course, sir,â I managed to assemble a gentle smile on my lips, trying my best to not let my previous thoughts show up on my face.
âDonât call me sir, Iâm not that old,â this complaint was slightly less persistent, but I was still not about to test his limits on it.
âOf course⊠Mister,â the word in that context sounded way too weird to me, but it was better than the two alternatives of either insisting on âsirâ or just not calling him by any title at all, âIâm just gonna need your library card, if you have it on you right nowâŠâ
His hand left the counter to retrieve something in his pocket, before swiftly passing to me a tiny rectangular piece of plastic - his library card, the old design of them at that, which meant he had it for quite a while now. My eyes narrowed as I scanned it, my brain multitasking with my fingers typing his card number on the database, and I found myself repeating the information out loud. âAlright, letâs see⊠Kyle Br-â
âKyley-B,â his correction came harsh and immediate, stopping me from saying even one more letter of his government name, âAnd donât you dare forget it.â
I really hadnât. It wasnât like I didnât know his name, everyone knew it well - he was an infamous face in town. Originally from New Jersey and carrying with him every single terrible stereotype about the place, the man before me caused trouble wherever he went, having very little regard for anything that didnât concern himself, and yet expecting everyone else to show him the respect he lacked for them. He had actually been in South Park longer than I did, but apparently what was said held true: you canât take the Jersey out of someone.
âM-My apologies⊠Kyley-B,â I tried my best to abide by his request and use his nickname in a sentence no matter how ridiculous it sounded, while still typing on the computer to avoid enhancing his anger in any way, âItâs all set. Feel free to peruse the collection if youâd like to borrow something else.â Please donât was the thought that came right after.
He nodded curtly, taking the card from me to put it back in his pocket, and I noticed his shoulders relaxing a little. Apparently, me being polite and understanding appeased him greatly, like he had understood that I wasnât one of the assholes trying to get him pissed or something. For as long as I was respectful, Iâd stay out of the path of destruction. I could swear I saw the intensity in his eyes shift a bit - but I avoided staring too long, both in fear of getting him angry again and in slight embarrassment at the thought that he might notice me doing that. âThanks. I think I will.â
Leaning back in my chair and picking my book back up in my hands, I figured that was that. Kyley-B would go off somewhere looking for trouble and Iâd be back to my silence and my reading. Yet I didnât hear the same noises I had when he arrived; no cursing, no loud shoes, no nothing. When I raised my eyes again, he was still there - leaning towards me with his forearms on the counter and a curious expression on his face.
âDo you⊠Need any help?â I inquired, slowly placing the book on my lap and rolling the chair closer to the desk so he wouldnât believe for a second that he didnât have my attention.
A smirk curved his lips as he eyed me up and down. âNah, just⊠Perusing.âÂ
Well, now thatâs a word I would never hear out of the mouth of a Jersey guy.
âOkayâŠâ My fingers nervously tapped the cover of my book. âIf thereâs anything I can do for you, then-â
âThere is, actually,â his body swayed slightly as he shifted his weight on his feet, âHas to do with my phone. You can put your number in it.â
Another jolt of bewilderment crossed my features. Allowing myself to focus my eyes on his again, I then understood what it was I saw on them earlier. Attraction. Now that he wasnât angry anymore, Kyley-B was allowing himself to see me as a woman instead of Personal Enemy Number Ten Thousand. And he made no attempt to hide that he liked what he saw. The blood ran to my cheeks and ears before I could compose myself, my body clearly not accustomed to such unabashed interest. âE-Excuse me?â
âYour number, baby,â he repeats as if itâs nothing, âCould say Iâm tryna make a movie with you here, but you clearly rather have your erotica in book form.â
What kind of Jersey asshole even knows about the word âeroticaâ? âI-I donât know what youâre talking aboutâŠâ
A ring-adorned index finger pointed towards the book on my lap and I froze. I had deliberately chosen the version of this book - a rather obscure piece of erotic literature, the first of a series - that had a more passable cover, absolutely nothing in it that could give away its themes, in a way that they could only be known by someone who already knew the title. And there was no way Kyley did, right?
âIâll tell you right now, stop at the first one. The sequels are garbage.â Kyley did. He shook his head with his own advice, like the memories of having to go through the continuations of that book brought stress back to his mind again.
My hands quickly grabbed the book and tried to hide it behind my computer monitor, away from his eyes, but the damage had been done. I tried to retort, but the words got stuck in my throat, coming out as gasps that enhanced further my petrified face, my wide eyes and the intensifying blush in my cheeks and ears.Â
âCat get ya tongue?â Kyley teased as if reading my mind, his upper body leaning over the counter so his pointing finger could brush softly against my cheek, âDonât worry, your secret is safe with me. Iâm no blabbermouth.â
Still I took a bit to relax and believe his words. This was a small town, gossip spread as easily as the snow fell, it would be hard to show my face anywhere without having jokes hurled towards me about being a âcloseted freakâ. Which was extremely far from the truth, to be honest - that genre of book was not amongst my most read, I was as vanilla as they came, it was literally an unfortunate circumstance that led to anyone finding out about this.
The fact that Kyley-B was so uncharacteristically decent and understanding about it too, despite the initial teasing when he was hitting on me, threw me off even more. He had no reason to help me, and he was notorious for being unhelpful, so this was odd behavior on his part. My mind raced with reasons as to why that would be, trying to make sense of the madness - maybe he had secrets of his own, or maybe he just understood how it was to be the subject of unsavory discussions everywhere he passed. Either way, I found myself thankful for his actions.
Eventually, I let out a deep sigh, my lungs almost hurting as I did. âThank you⊠Kyley.â I murmured, nodding slowly, my eyes shining with the gratitude that I couldnât express with words without sounding corny.
He brought his hand back to himself, and I looked at his face again, seeing the exact same intense expression as before. Maybe, in my slight delirium of trying to build up Kyley-B as an actual human being with thoughts and feelings instead of your stereotypical Jersey playboy, I had imagined it faltering.
âThatâs something I like to hear,â the flirtatious tone of voice was back with a vengeance, âNow, about that phone number of yours...â
And just like that, I was avoiding his eyes once more, my hands drifting down to fidget with the hem of my skirt absentmindedly, making me look even more suspicious. âI⊠I donât know if that would be appropriate.â
âWe only have to get inappropriate if you want me to,â his smirk grew. His voice didnât even drop in volume as he said this, like he was completely comfortable with talking to unknown women like that - which he probably was, âWe can just go party, have a couple drinks, make some noise, shit, whatever it is you like.â
Whatever it was I liked did not involve any of the things he mentioned. âI⊠Iâm afraid I might not be the ideal person for that.â As I tried to let him down easy, I felt a striking pain in my chest; like the act of refusing made me uncomfortable, like I somehow wanted to accept it, even though it didnât belong to me at all. âBut thank you for the offer.â
ââNot idealâ? What the fuck is that about?â He retorted, and for a moment I thought I mightâve riled him up again - but, although he was still loud, he didnât seem angrier. More so confused about what I said rather than the circumstances of it. âIâm inviting ya, ainât I? How the fuck is that not ideal?â
âItâs not the invitation!â I was quick to respond, âItâs just I donât think Iâm the right kind of company for all that⊠Iâm sure thereâs better people in town who would love to go clubbing with you.â
âWell, Iâm not inviting those other people, Iâm inviting you!â It was clear the insistence would not wane anytime soon. He rubbed his eyes with his palms for a bit, his mind trying to come up with a solution, before taking a deep breath and looking at me again. âHow about some coffee, or tea, then? You into that?â
My eyes widened in surprise and he probably knew he struck gold there. A coffee shop was much more up my alley, but never in a million years would I imagine the likes of Kyley-B in such an environment - somewhere with no alcohol, no loud music, and where fighting was not tolerated. âI⊠I am, yes.â
âCoffee it is, then,â his tone was every bit as comfortable as he was when he mentioned partying, âJust gotta avoid that one place near the movie theater. Tastes like shit and the owner is a piece of garbage.â
A small giggle left my mouth. I had been to that coffee shop and knew its owner personally, it wasnât hard considering the town was pretty small. For once in his life, Kyley-B was right, even if I personally wouldnât phrase it all like he did. The business was probably only kept standing due to the fact people were too used to it by now, but it was the one place where I wouldnât mind seeing a Jersey-level rage outburst take place.Â
My reaction was stifled by a glare Kyley shot at me, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand if I was laughing at him or with him. âIâm sorry! Itâs just⊠I donât like that place either.â I admitted, immediately scanning the library hall with wide eyes, trying to see if there was anyone around that couldâve heard me say that.Â
His expression relaxed and he nodded. âYou ainât gotta be so shy, you know,â he commented, his tone slightly more serious, âIf you have your truth, then you gotta just say it. Itâs how we do it in Jersey, and it works!â
It didnât really work, but I wasnât about to question him, not when the structure of his message was in the right place. My whole existence happened inside strict lines ever since I was a kid, I was one to keep my opinions to myself and rein in my actions to keep myself palatable to the people around me. This lifestyle had me sheltered to a fault, but until that moment I was fine with it; going through life avoiding trouble kept me healthy and safe, and I didnât want to jeopardize that. However, Kyley-Bâs advice still held some sort of water, and I found myself willing to hear more, even though it came from such an unreliable narrator.
âI know, I know⊠I just didnât want anyone to hear me say that. It feels weird.â I shrugged.
âWell, maybe if that place wasnât so trashy, you wouldnât have to complain about it, itâs exactly what I am saying!â He retorted, the serious edge in his voice gone and replaced by the usual annoyance. âAnd I keep telling people that, but they wonât listen!â
With every passing millisecond, Kyley-B managed to confuse me more. While a part of me was stuck on the still present image of the annoying jerk who only knows how to pick fights and be rude to others, another part slowly took form; one that was intrigued about that man, knowing that although he could be a little too much, he was still completely true to himself, which is more than what can be said about a lot of the people around me. Right now, he carried his actions like a motorcycle zig-zagging through the traffic of my mind. Its destination? The inside of my skirt.Â
âIâll keep that in mind⊠Thank you.â
Kyley-B nodded with a smirk, content that I wasnât disputing him like people usually seemed to do. Though something told me that even if I did, I still wouldnât be subjected to the same type of verbal abuse others would if they tried that. âNow, back to that coffeeâŠâÂ
I then managed to notice that we werenât alone in our conversation anymore when a hand sneaked from behind the Jersey man, tapping his shoulder a bit. Immediately my brain was blaring sirens, the word âDANGERâ being transmitted by every one of my neurons. âExcuse me, sir?â Another male voice called out, well-mannered enough, yet still firm.
Kyley-B immediately turned to face the unknown third party, his eyebrows furrowing and whole expression hardening into anger. âWhat the fuck do you want? Canât you see Iâm in the middle of something here?â
Apparently the stranger had very little regard for his life, because he didnât back out from the rude display, their tone instead becoming louder and more insistent in retaliation. âWell, your âsomethingâ needs to happen somewhere else, because I have to check out this book and this is the only counter available!â He lifted his hand to show Kyley the book he was holding, as if that would drill the information into his skull.
All it did was make him more angry. He quickly snatched the book from the clientâs hand, throwing it with such force it managed to hit the wall farthest from us, before stepping closer to the stranger and crossing his arms in front of his chest. âWhat the fuck did you just say to me?â
The client was stunned for a second, both from his book being thrown and from the sudden inferred physical threat. âWhat the fuck is wrong with you, dude?â Through his shock he still managed to spit back, trying his best to mirror Kyleyâs body language and tone; but itâs hard to be as violent as a guy from Jersey. âCanât you see youâre fucking wrong? Back off!â
âNo, you back off!â Kyley used both his hands to push his adversary away - the other guy stumbled backwards a few feet, but luckily didnât fall. However, the Jersey man was quick to breach the freshly created distance with hard steps. âIâll fucking teach garbage like you not to mess with me!â
Right in front of the stranger again, Kyley cracked his knuckles and squared his shoulders. The other guy straightened his posture and balled both fists at his sides, prepared to strike the Jersey threat right back if it came to that.
Mustering the small courage I had in me and having to force my fear-frozen legs to move, I ran from behind the counter towards the two men, putting my hands on their shoulders and praying to all deities that my presence would make them back off instead of turning me into a casualty of the upcoming brawl. âG-Gentlemen, please, donâtâŠâ My voice was thin and desperate, reflecting the state of my mind as I tried to diffuse this situation to the best of my abilities, âThereâs no need for any of this! Please, calm down!â
Luckily, they heard me well enough, and my guess is having to acknowledge the presence of a woman put a damper, however small, in their urge to clash. For a moment, our little group was completely silent except for the heavy breathing noises coming from the three of us - the two men furious like bulls about to strike, and me in terrified anxiety over the situation. They maintained a quiet staredown for what felt like forever, and I knew that if they were telepaths, the offenses theyâd be mentally hurling at each other would contain curse words that could make a sailor blush. Then Kyley-B did something I didnât even think he could physically do - he took a step back from a fight.
âScrew this noise,â he huffed, before turning his face to me again and making a gesture with his arm that beckoned me to accompany him somewhere, âCome on, canât fucking talk in here without a shithead butting in.â
âW-What? Come on where?â My hands gestured desperately towards both my counter and the client in front of Kyley, who the redhead was now clearly ignoring as if he was nothing more than a decorative piece of the library, much to the otherâs confusion, âI mean, Iâm working right now!â
Before I could stop him, he walked back to the reception and reached over to the space of my desk, his hand clumsily scattering a bunch of the items on it before he could retrieve what he wanted - a small desk sign that just said âBe Back Soonâ. He placed it firmly on top of the counter, the text facing him. âThere. Now you ainât.â
Kyley-B didnât even allow me to put my shoes back on before he grabbed me by the wrist and started taking me away from the reception. I sent the other client one last apologetic look over my shoulder as Kyley dragged me, his sneakers louder than ever as he brought a barefooted me all the way to the farthest hallways of the library, down the always empty and slightly dusty Latin Literature section. His hand only loosened its hold when we stopped walking completely. Place was empty except for me, him and one of the trustworthy metal library carts, containing an assortment of books that needed to be delivered back into their proper shelves.
When he put both his hands in his pockets, I realized that now, away from the reception counter, I could see the lower half of his body. Even though he wore a belt, his acid wash denim jeans still hung a bit low on his hips - when his shirt shifted slightly, I could see the top of his boxersâ waistband peeking out. A look that normally would have given me pause when it came to a guy, but at that moment, what paused was my gaze, that I had to forcefully tear away from the region as I imagined what he looked like minus the outfit.
âFucking finally. Canât stand those hicks sticking their nose in business that ainât theirs.â He spat, looking over his shoulder a bit towards the direction from which we came, like he was still trying to send his message to the other man who couldnât even hear him anymore.Â
âI guess...â I didnât really want to continue dwelling on what just transpired; Kyleyâs anger was still fresh - was it ever not? - and the last thing I wanted was for him to decide to head back and finally start what he was about to before I intervened. Besides, from our small interaction in the reception desk, I had learnt that he had a ânot complete jerkâ side to him that was much more tolerable to be around.
âI swear, people in this town stress me the fuck out. Gahbage, all of them.â He shook his head and with that, finally turned his face back to me - his expression was still intense, but at least he wasnât completely pissed off anymore, and a hint of that cocky flirtatious grin had returned to his lips. âWell, not all. But enough about that bullshit. What do they call you around these parts?â
The way he asked for my name sounded weird to me, but I guess thatâs the type of sentence someoneâs got to use when their name is âKyley-Bâ and they refuse to be referred to as anything else. âIâm Y/N.â
âY/N, huh? Thatâs hot.â
Of all the adjectives he could have chosen, he went for the one I had never seen used before to describe a name, especially mine. âWhat do you mean by that?â
Kyley frowned a bit in confusion. âI mean itâs hot, what of it?â The answer came with a dismissive shrug, as if it was obvious and I was dumb for even having something to question. âYour name is hot, youâre hot, thereâs not much else to say.â
My mouth spoke before my mind could catch the words this time. âWell, thatâs a surprise.â
His frown intensified and I put my hands over my lips, the mistake getting to me. âAnd what do you mean by that?â
âWell, itâs just, Iâve seen you around,â my brain cells worked themselves into overdrive trying to find a way to say it that didnât sound accusatory, âWith some girls, andâŠâ
Lively laughter that almost seemed to rumble the books on the nearby shelves interrupted my train of thought. âOh, so thatâs what this is about?â Kyley ran his fingers through his own hair - it almost didnât even move due to the sheer amount of hair gel. âDonât ya worry about it, baby. I like the covered up look too. Youâre really pretty.âÂ
He eyed me up and down slowly, still grinning, as if he truly appreciated what he saw. I looked down at myself as well, taking in my outfit - a loose-fitting blouse, a skirt that ended just barely above my knees, my bare feet that were earlier covered by a pair of flats. Miles away from the style of the women that Iâd seen Kyley-B have in his arms - women who wore clothes with much less fabric, shoes with much higher heels, makeup with much more vibrant colors. Women that dressed like they wanted the attention, in the way that Kyleyâs personality denounced the same thing.
Yet that Jersey man still looked at me like he wanted me in a much worse way than heâd want any of those girls, beyond just flirting for the hell of it or so he could add another number to his body count. And I was eating it up despite myself - having the undivided attention of Kyley-B in a somewhat private setting like this, instead of fighting other women for it at a club or something, was deliciously feeding into my ego, and it took everything in my mind for me to remind myself that this was my job and I was working and there is no way anything can happen and oh my lord his eyes are so gorgeous.
My eyes drifted to the floor, suddenly very interested in the nail polish on my toes and the small creases on Kyleyâs Jordans. âThank youâŠâ
 âSee? This is what Iâm talking about.â One of his hands made its way to my chin, tilting it upwards just enough to bring my attention towards his face again.âThatâs the fourth time youâve thanked me now. Makes me wanna actually give you something to be thankful for.â
Now forced to look at him - honestly, I donât know how âforcedâ I really was, considering I made no attempt to dodge my head away from his hold -, the fire reddening my face was on full display for Kyley, a sight that made his smirk widen.
âThereâs no need for that,â I murmured, though the little vain monster in my heart yearned for him to continue talking about me like that, to continue making me feel actually interesting, âItâs just⊠who I am.â
He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on mine. âWho you are? I wanna know all about that⊠Inside and out.â
My nervous hard swallow was audible. I was sure I could boil a kettle using only the heat radiating from me at that moment. His voice was dripping with desire; the double entendre almost making the air around us crackle with how charged it was. Despite my whole body presenting all my real feelings, my personality still clamored for some semblance of that decorum that Kyley-B was trying to make slip away. "I donât know⊠I donât think we shouldâŠâ
âWhy not?â This time, there was no anger in his voice as he questioned me; its volume had dropped lower, matching the âprivateâ nature of the conversation. âIâm into it, youâre into it, I donât see the issue.â
I couldâve denied, said he understood everything wrong and I was just being polite, thanked him for his time and left that place with my decency intact. But I was always a very bad liar, and there was no denying the way my heart beated like a drum with his proximity, how my face got beet red just from our simple conversations, or the way I eagerly paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth.
Why was I feeling so drawn to his offer anyway? Was it the forbidden aspect of it all, the knowledge that Iâd be going wild and letting loose while still maintaining the looks of a productive member of society? Did I internally enjoy the attention of someone who usually went for women that had nothing to do with me in either appearance or personality? Was the savior complex acting up again, the âI can change himâ mentality? All of the above would lead to the same outcome.
Another thing that really led me towards the path of surrendering to Kyley was the fact that, during all of this, he still hadnât touched me in any way that was inherently sexual, despite all of his verbal advances. He was still waiting for my consent, exhibiting atypical patience, which made me believe he wouldâve been okay even if I legitimately rejected him - the thing he couldnât take was me hiding myself from the both of us, my attempts at masking my interest, and thatâs why he was still pressing the issue. He wanted to take me, but he also had to make sure I wanted to be taken.
âCome on, baby⊠Talk to meâŠâ His voice dropped even lower as he took the final step towards me, our bodies inches from each other now, âWanna know whatâs going on in that pretty little mindâŠâ
The deep shuddering breath I took brought to me the smells of old books and some very strong cologne, the latter of which I could easily imagine on my pillow. âNeed youâŠâ
His hands grabbed both sides of my face and he pulled me into a fierce kiss, groaning into my mouth once we collided. His lips were surprisingly soft, likely due to a religious application of chapstick, but the kiss as a whole was still rough in a figurative sense; tough, possessive, everything that man was now being transferred to me through the clashing of our mouths, basically demanding me to respond in kind.
Which was something I didnât even know I could do. I wasnât necessarily a virgin, but that doesnât mean I was all that seasoned, either. My years in university werenât necessarily the great breeding ground for sexual experience that they seemed to be for everyone else - turns out all the other English majors were more interested in reading about steamy affection and whirlwind romances rather than actually living them.Â
So that moment with Kyley-B, in the back of my workplace, was the first moment of my life I actually felt desired - like my whole presence did something for the man in front of me, something he couldnât ignore. And I found myself in equal measure wanting him as well, entranced by his untamed nature, like a tiny wild side of me I didnât even know existed was slowly coming to life now that he was close enough.
We needed to have each other. So, letting my last sliver of rational thought become dust and settle on the books in the shelves around us, I kissed him back, my hands resting on his shoulders and gently bringing him even closer. Kyleyâs hands tightened around my waist and he pushed me backwards until I felt my ass lightly hit the library cart, hearing the faint squeak of the wheels as they moved a bit from the slight impact. His tongue led mine in a sensual dance, one that I initially didnât know the moves to, but that quickly became second nature under his expert tutoring. His hips pressed against me and I was a bit glad to notice he was clearly affected too, seeking whatever friction he could get by grinding his bulge against my lower abdomen.Â
Both of us had our chests heaving heavily when we pulled back in need of air, and thatâs when I realized my whole body was trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. âPleaseâŠâ was all I could manage to say, and I didnât even know what I was begging for; for Kyley-B to calm down, to keep going, to do more, to bring me somewhere else or take me right there. Just whatever it was that would calm down the heat on my lower abdomen, since I knew only he could take care of that now.
âYou really know your magic words, what a good girl,â Kyley murmured with his mouth still inches from mine, his words teasing, but with an undertone of praise. One of his hands slowly drifted down from my waist, pulling up the fabric of my skirt a bit just so it could slide under, a feather-light touch making its way towards my inner thighs until it settled right over my clothed pussy - the material already thoroughly damp from just his previous contact.
Two of his fingers traced my slit over my panties before they stopped right on top of my clit, applying slight pressure to it before rubbing tight firm circles over it, the fabric of my underwear providing even more friction against my extra sensitive bundle of nerves. My teeth dug into my lower lip as I stifled my whimpers, squirming quietly under Kyleyâs teasing moves.
âYouâre real wet, ya know that?â He moved his head so that he could whisper in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. The tip of his tongue then slowly traced the outline of my ear, a seductive gesture that sent goosebumps through my whole body. âLove to see it. Basically dripping for me.â
His digits moved back lower between my thighs, tracing me yet again, but the pressure on my clit wasnât missed for long, as his palm was now flat against it, applying a bit of pressure and moving just barely to still keep me sensitive. He pushed my very damp panties to the side, a finger now circling my entrance, the small wet sounds it made almost deafening to me, proving Kyleyâs previous claim without a doubt.
When he pushed his index in, I grabbed hard on the library cart handle, making it rattle a bit with the sudden movement. My breath hitched with the sudden intrusion, and Kyley chuckled in satisfaction, his face lowering to my neck. The pleasurable pain of the bites he started to place on the sensitive skin came in tandem with his middle finger also plunging inside of me, all the way to the last knuckle.
Kyley-B wasted no time before curling his fingers in a come hither motion, pumping them in and out with a type of strength that made my whole body shake with each push inward. My hips moved towards his palm in sync with his ministrations, subconsciously trying to get extra friction on my clit.Â
Despite never having seen me before, it was like he had a complete map of my body in his mind. He knew exactly what to do at all times to make me feel good, and handled my body with a type of care that I would never expect from the likes of him. My worries about his nature or his intentions were gone with the wind; he could be whoever he wanted, as long as heâd continue laying his passion on all the neglected erotic parts of both my body and spirit. Soon my nails started making scraping noises against the metal of the handle, like I wasnât just holding on to it, but also to the last little bit of my sanity before Kyley-B would kick me right into the deepest ends of pleasure.
Then suddenly, it stopped. His fingers withdrew from me and he took them to his mouth, cleaning my whole arousal out of those digits as he sucked on them. Not saying a word, he then used both of his hands to hike up my skirt completely so that it would be bunched up on my waist, immediately pressing his body against me again while his fingers drifted to the side of my panties. With a fierce tug that wouldâve made me lose balance if not for his presence, he tore the damp fabric clean off, dropping it on the floor near our feet.
âWhat⊠Why did youâŠâ I stuttered a bit as I looked up at him with my mouth hanging slightly open, looking every bit needy and desperate for him, absolutely pathetic in my yearning for the touch of that man.
His response came as a series of quick yet sensual kisses, the last one prolonged by the soft pulling of my bottom lip between his teeth. âThink weâre both gonna like it a lot more if you cum on my cock, baby,â he cooed, âAnd ya want it too, right? Donât think youâd want to come all the way here just to get two fingers in.â
My head moved in a meek nod. My brain wouldâve normally scolded me for agreeing so easily to words like these, so overtly sexually charged, but I couldnât exactly lie to Kyley, either. I wanted him to fill me up. Taking in my agreement, he pulled back just a bit so he could make quick work of the belt and buttons in his jeans and pulled both them and his boxers slightly down, just enough for his cock to spring free.Â
A lot of times, when people see feisty men with boisterous personalities, they like to say that those men are compensating for a lack of something. Kyley-B absolutely was not. He had the inches and the girth to back up every single aggressive display and explicit word that left his mouth. I pressed my thighs together, both in a gesture of fear for my poor pussy and also as a way to create some sort of pressure in the area that could calm me down until he would finally give it all to me.
My light squirming did not go unnoticed by his ever observant olive eyes. For all his violent behavior, he was still a really sharp individual. âYou can take it,â he stated in a way that left no room for questioning, âIâll make sure of it.â
Kyley took my lips back in his as his hands then moved from my waist to my ass, the unfamiliar sensation making me gasp against his mouth. He kneaded the soft flesh a bit, feeling it around. Then, without warning, both his hands delivered hard smacks to each side of my bottom, and I broke the kiss with a loud high-pitched yelp - the sounds almost echoed in the quiet library. He immediately started rubbing circles with his palms on the areas he slapped, as if trying to soothe them, contented groans rumbling in his chest. His next sentence came as an order. âTurn around. Need to feel this ass on me.â
I spun 180 degrees on my feet without a second thought and he pushed my back unceremoniously, making me bend over the library cart in front of me before shoving my head down towards it so that my back would be even lower and my ass would be in a more prominent position. My face landed on its side on one of the books that I was supposed to put back in place - Don Quixote. I had the feeling that by the end of my encounter with Kyley-B I too would be crazy enough to fight windmills.
I could only hear the noises his shoes made as he settled properly behind me, the hand he had used to shove me now placed at my back, putting slight pressure to keep me bent. He held his cock with the other one, giving a few light taps with it on my ass, and I just knew his gaze was burning into me as he watched the soft flesh jiggle a bit. When he positioned himself to start dragging the head across my slit, gathering up my already plentiful arousal and spreading it around even more, I whined and bucked back a little with my hips, the library cart under me rolling a bit as well.Â
Immediately the hand that had been resting on my back moved to my ass and grabbed it fiercely. âDamn desperate for my cock, are ya, baby?â I could almost hear the smirk in his lips as he said those words, âDonât worry, Imma give it to ya⊠And you ainât even gonna need to thank me for itâŠâ
Fortunately Kyley-B did not make me wait much longer after that. He was all about that instant gratification, and my submissive behaviour fed right into it. He traced my slit a few more times with the tip of his cock before pushing it fully inside of me in one swift motion, taking advantage of my wetness buildup.Â
Another yelp from deep within my throat, this time accompanied by a deep grunt from Kyley-Bâs. Both his hands grabbed my hips with such ferocity it felt like he was trying to get his fingers to break through my skin - but heâd have to settle for them just leaving a couple bruises. The stinging sensation deep in my walls as they stretched around his cock was like nothing I had ever felt before; worse than it felt when I lost my virginity, yet it was better, as in, actually good. I took a deep breath, hoping the air coming inside my lungs might help ease the burning somehow.
âFuck, youâre so fuckinâ tight,â Kyley-B grunted behind me, his tone of voice faltering for a moment, becoming less brutish than usual - he was lost in the feeling of being inside me just as much as I was on the feeling of taking him. âGonna end up ruining ya⊠If Iâm not carefulâŠâ
He already had.
His grip steadied on my hips as he pulled away from me, before slamming all the way back in, giving me no time to calm down as he quickly settled into a steady pace, each thrust burying his cock to the hilt inside of my cunt. He was so big I could feel his tip hitting my cervix, constant jolts of pain coursing through my lower abdomen with each hit - yet I didnât feel any urge to bring myself away from it or make it stop. It was the best pain I had ever felt in my life, which is a sentence I never thought Iâd put together.Â
Before I knew it I was letting out loud pleasure whines, my perception of the environment around me slowly being lost. Kyley still seemed to maintain his for a bit, though - to stifle my noises, he quickly shoved his index and middle finger inside of my mouth, almost all the way to the third knuckle. As if on cue, I started sucking on those digits and swirling my tongue around them like it was second nature.
âFuck, girl,â he groaned with a husky voice, âIf ya pussy wasnât this fuckinâ good Iâd be using my cock on this great tongue ya got instead.â
His other hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it with reasonable strength, making me gasp and bringing my head up - my mouth opened wider and I could now taste the brass of his fake rings on my tongue as he pushed his fingers all the way inside, having the surprising care of positioning them in such a way that they wouldnât make me gag, while I continued to work on them.
He didnât keep my noises muffled like this for long. Soon he seemed to realize it was of no use and we were already loud anyway; so he let go of my hair and my face immediately fell forward, his fingers leaving my mouth with a wet noise and slight pain to me as his rings clumsily hit my teeth from the sudden movement. His hands slapped both sides of my ass again and I yelled with full force of my lungs - now that I was free to make noise, he seemed interested in testing my ability of it, and I could swear the squelching noises my pussy made with each of his thrusts became louder as he sped up a bit.
With each potent snap of his hips against my ass, my whole body would jerk forward and cause the library cart to hit the tall wooden bookshelf right in front of me, shaking the whole thing up and making it bang against the wall behind it. Heavy hardcover books rained from the shelves, hitting the parquet floor with loud thuds.
Completely immersed in the pleasure the Jersey man was giving me, I failed to notice the danger I was in, of a book striking my head and knocking me out cold. I only realized that situation when all of a sudden Kyley-B had the whole weight of his upper body against my back, his harsh breathing on my neck sending shivers down my spine while his arm moved at the speed of light to backhand a falling book out of its path towards our bodies, sending it flying a few feet away like it was nothing. He hissed between his teeth, likely from the pain of the smack, but didnât voice any complaints besides that, his pounding against me not faltering for even a second.
I adored the new sensation. Though I was almost fully trapped against the library cart, him leaning on top of me like this was strangely comforting, seeing all of that oppressive strength being used for my protection. Kyley-B clearly took care of what was his, and at that moment, thatâs exactly what I was.
Best as I could, I sneaked one of my arms over my shoulder, my hand clumsily grabbing a fistful of his gelled up hair. He grunted roughly against my neck, apparently not used to being touched like that - maybe it was usually the other way around - but making no move to stop my awkward attempt at a caress either. His thrusts slowed a bit as he stayed like this for a moment or two, before he straightened his posture back up with his chest away from my back and gave my ass another slap, picking up speed again - maybe that was his way of taking for himself the smallest bit of control over the situation I held for a bit.Â
Not that I minded. Him taking charge was all that I wanted at that moment. Not a single useful thought graced my brain while he fucked me senseless, all of my neurons hyper-aware of how his cock felt when it pushed against the most sensitive spots inside of me and not much else. Everything was Kyley-B, the world around us irrelevant, merely a void environment that could absorb all of my moans and screams of pleasure, as well as the squelching and slapping noises of his thrusts, with no repercussion. Even the swear words he grunted every so often now sounded like music to me; because it came from a place of intense pleasure, which I was giving him, so he could curse as much as he wanted near me as long as heâd do it in that lascivious tone.
Kyleyâs thrusts became even quicker and more erratic, as if he couldnât bear to have a single inch of himself not buried inside of me for any amount of time. He bullied my walls and my cervix with wild abandon, and I felt myself tensing up under his chest, my toes curling against the hardwood floor as my body braced for the impact of the release that his cock was about to give to me.Â
He noticed the physical aspects of my buildup and a hoarse chuckle cut through the sounds of his hips slapping against me. âGonna cum for me now, are ya, babe?â He murmured huskily, giving the lightest of taps to my ass, an action that felt weirdly reassuring. âTold ya it was gonna be better with my cock⊠Go on, let me see yaâŠâ
My eyes rolled almost to the back of my head and I let out a cry that made my whole throat quiver as the most intense orgasm of my life crashed on me like a tsunami, my spine arching and making my upper body press even more against the cart under me. While I whimpered and trembled through the ripples of pleasure in my system, Kyley-B grabbed my hair again, pulling my head back some more as he used the newfound reins to jackhammer into me with my cunt clamping fiercely against his cock, trying to make it a permanent attachment to my body - a very smart decision on its part, really.
Despite riding my climax out to the fullest, I did not get any time to catch my breath - Kyley-Bâs attack on my walls had already started to cross the line into overstimulation, making me whimper from the continuing massage on the extra sensitive region, before he suddenly withdrew from me. Although I already had way too much everything considered, that action surprisingly made me legitimately angry for half a second - I missed him inside of me. His breathing shook and faltered while thick jets spilled over my ass and lower back, his seed warm against my skin.
As he came down from his high and his breathing became more steady, I heard him reach inside of his pocket again, then felt the slightly rough sensation of lace being rubbed against me - he was cleaning up his release with the very same panties he tore away. Seemed thorough about it, too, as he took his time and by the end of it I didnât feel sticky anymore. Yet, the knowledge of what we did had painted my body forever, the warm sensation still very much psychologically present, even if I was physically âcleanâ.
I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him stuff the panties in his pocket. The normal confusion Iâd exhibit if seeing such an act did not grace my features, either because I was too fucked out to care or because I actually liked it.
He tucked his softening cock back inside of his boxers and closed the buttons and belt on his jeans before leaning towards me again, this time to put his nose to the side of my neck, inhaling my scent sharply while his arms wrapped around my waist.
âDid so fucking well for me, baby. You were so damn good.â Kyley-B whispered against my skin, his voice once more taking that less rowdy tone I heard earlier. Hearing it again, in a full sentence this time, sent shivers down my spine - different shivers from the ones that had coursed through my body earlier. Like I could catch a glimpse of the man behind the fake tan. He made sure to leave one tiny nip at my skin before pressing a kiss right on top of that region - a surprisingly soft kiss, like he was now trying to be careful with me.
He stayed like this for a little more before straightening up again and letting go of my body, giving my ass one last playful slap, chuckling as he watched it jiggle. âYouâre the real deal, Y/N,â the Jersey playboy voice was back at full force, âLetâs go out sometime. Iâll call you.â
Which was a weird thing to say, considering I hadnât given him my number at all, but for some reason I just knew that was the least of his problems. He knew where I worked. Heâd find a way, and Iâd give him as much direction as I could for that.
As soon as I couldnât hear his footsteps anymore, my knees gave in, and I fell right on them, letting the library cart hit the now much less packed bookcase a final time. My hands clung to the side of it with what little strength I had in my body, that still felt like it was made of jelly. I couldâve fallen asleep right then and there, the exhaustion from the unfamiliar âexerciseâ getting to me. Dozens of books laid around me on the floor, waiting to be put back in their places, but I decided to just make that a problem for future me, instead choosing to let my muscles catch a break.
When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to return, alone, to the reception desk, I realized I was in deep shit. Every single set of eyes in the location turned to me, wide and horrified; apparently, the whole time I was with Kyley-B back there, my clients at the library were frozen in place listening to the whole thing. I tried to avoid my shame by looking elsewhere, but then my eyes rested on a decorative piece of mirrored glass at the wall; I could now see myself clearly. My hair was messed up beyond belief from all of Kyley-Bâs pulling, my whole makeup was smudged - with special attention to the huge pink blur of lipstick around my very kiss-swollen lips -, my shirt was creased everywhere. Not to mention that now my underwear was hanging out in a New Jersey manâs pocket, leaving me totally commando. And I had a few more hours of my shift ahead of me.
It didnât affect me as much as it should.
àŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒđ©âĄđȘàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒàŒ
Surprisingly enough, I did not get fired from my job after that. My guess was they knew they couldnât find anyone else who could put up with the extra work that had nothing to do with my appointed position, not for the money I was paid. So I got to stay.
What did happen was the influx of people at the library augmented significantly. This did not mean a proportional increase in the number of books checked out, however - it just meant way too many people were suddenly interested in Latin Literature, and my workplace became a lot noisier.
Dividers by @cafekitsune
#south park#south park fanfiction#south park smut#south park x reader#south park x y/n#sp x reader#kyle broflovski#kyle broflovski x reader#kyle broflovski x y/n#kyle broflovski x you#kyley-b#kyley-b x reader#kyley-b x you#kyley-b x y/n#sp kyle#south park kyle#ao3#x reader#imagine#one shot#smut
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~To You He Feels Like Home~
(Neteyam x Fem! Naâvi! Reader)

Summary: You were always a wild child, literally and figuratively. You were raised by the forest and by the creatures that lived within it, and you would never want it any other way, but when you were discovered by another Naâvi you are overcome with curiosity although the animals that raised you always warned you about the outsiders.
Word Count: 5.1k
Authorâs Note: This is my longest oneshot to date, at 5.1k words & 11 google docs pages, and Iâve been working on it for weeks now⊠Hopefully you guys will like it :D This fic was inspired by @imeanwhynotbruv âs Mowlie! Spider AU which I LOVE!!! Very excited for yâall to read :)

~Last - Next~
~Series Masterlist~
~Main Masterlist~

To You He Feels Like Home
You were always wild, even as a young child. Part of that could be attributed to who was raising you, how you were being raised, and part of it was because of your personality. It came down to nurture versus nature, or nurture and nature.
You were wild by nurture, raised by the Great Mother, by her forest, and by the animals that inhabited it. In particular there was a mother palulukan who had taken you into her den with her two cubs. She was your protector, your teacher, your mother. She loved you, and that was all you needed.
You were wild by nature, always bouncing around, never able to sit still. You were fierce and strong, stubborn at times, and intelligent as could be, which you used to your advantage. It was good for your survival, but exhausting to your mother palulukan, and the other animals who had taken you under their wings to teach you different survival skills.
They had all had a part in your upbringing, every animal teaching you something different. Their lessons had turned you into the woman you were today, they had taught you how to survive, and not just that, but how to thrive.
The palulukan had taught you to fight, how to attack and pounce, and win. She had taught you to protect yourself in any situation. She had taught you that no matter how small you were, how weak you may seem to your opponent, that there would always be a way to come out on top.
The syaksyuk had taught you how to swing from tree to tree, how to escape from harm's way quickly, may you choose not to fight. They taught you about community and how to work together to get to your goal.
The yerik had taught you how to scare off predators, and if that didnât work how to run, how to pace yourself and run for longer than you thought you could. They taught you to stay calm, to not let fear overtake you as you ran.
The nantang made sure you knew how to hunt, how to stalk then attack and finish off your prey. They made sure you could feed yourself. They made you work in a team, to take everyone's different skills into account.
The ikrans that visited from the mountains taught you how to navigate the air, although you could only do so with their help. They would show you how different different parts of the land were. They showed you what you and your family of creatures looked from above.
Your upbringing was untraditional and many Naâvi would question how you had even survived, but you knew how. There was a sense of community in your animal family that could never be rivaled. You wouldn't have it any other way.
Of course there were still things you had to teach yourself, like weaving and making clothes. This had taken some trial and error as you had started as a very young child, needing to form this skill for more protection against the elements and the forest. You had figured it out later than you would have liked, but eventually you got there and had created your own outfits.
Then you had to teach yourself how to make weapons, and how to use them. You had mastered making spears out of branches when you were young, and quickly moved on to finding hard enough materials to make knives and other blades. When your mother palulukan had noticed your proficiency of making weapons she had started bringing back lost Naâvi weapons like bows and hunting knives.
After lots of trials and errors, from carving the body wrong to tying the sting wrong, you had mastered making a bow. You had found the perfect type of wood, strong enough to hold up, but soft enough to carve. You had found the perfect string made from woven plant fibers. When you carved your final masterpiece the curve of the wood was perfect and the string strung tightly enough to work perfectly.
Then came using it. You had never seen anyone use one, and your mother palulukan refused to let you anywhere near other Naâvi, so you struggled. You had tried over, and over, and over again, and eventually it paid off. Your stance was wrong to most, strange looking to others, but it worked perfectly for you.
With all of your combined skills, ones the animals of Pandora had taught you and ones you had taught yourself, you had become a lethal hunter. Once you proved yourself capable your mother palulukan let you off on your own.
At the age of eighteen years you had been sent free, allowed to explore as you wanted, and so you did. You ran through the forest with excitement coursing through your veins. You climbed and swung from tree to tree without a care for your safety. You swam in streams and shook the water from your loose hair as you resurfaced. You hunted for your own food, coming up successful every time.
You felt free.
You had been so used to your mother palulukan hunting for you that doing it on your own was enthralling. It gave you a rush unlike any other, but you never took more than you and your family could eat, dragging it back home to your palulukan familyâs den.
Your little family had never eaten like this before. They had never had a meal every day, sometimes going as many as five days without food, instead giving leftovers to you, the little Naâvi they had taken in who needed it more than they did. Now you made sure they were fed daily, you took care of them like they had you.
As much as you loved the takedown of your prey, your favorite part of hunting was the stalking. You loved tracking things, finding a scent trail and following it until you found prints in the ground. You loved watching the prey once you found it, staying hidden in the shadows and observing.
Sometimes you would even track when you werenât hunting, practicing for later or simply wanting to observe the other animals of the forest. You especially loved watching the nantang packs as they were similar to your family but also so different.
Today had been no different, you had been out searching for the trail of a nantang pack wanting to watch and observe. However that plan changed when you caught a whiff of something you had never smelled before. It reminded you of something, yourself, but you didnât know why.
You couldnât help but do what you do best, stalk. You followed the scent, staying close to the ground, slinking around, and watching the dirt for prints from any type of animal. When the trail stopped and there were no prints in sight you were confused, where had it gone, you questioned.
Then it hit you, the trees, it had to be in the trees. You werenât in the mood to climb right now, not wanting a chase in the trees, but you might not have a choice. You took a breath, steadying and readying yourself, slowly looking up to the trees to see what you would be chasing, and once you caught sight of what it was you gasped.
It was you, not quite, but something like you.
He had your blue skin, stripes laid across his skin and white freckles splattered across his body and face. He had your dark hair, but his was put up in braids, something you had no idea you could do. He had your large golden eyes which were widened just like yours right now.
You were perplexed. You knew you werenât the same as your family, you knew you looked completely different, not the same species, but you hadnât ever seen another person like you. You didnât know there were other people like you.
The other person looked just as shocked as you, and he was. You looked Omaticaya, but he had never seen you before, and he had seen everyone in his clan as the next Oloâeyktan in training. He hoped you werenât Omaticaya because of how rough of shape you were in. He never wanted anyone in his clan to be in this rough of shape.
You had scapes all over your body, little scars scattered where past cuts had been. Your hair was loose and messy, knotted and in need of a good brush and braid. As he studied the strange girl in front of him he was concerned for you, for the state you were in, but to you the unkempt hair and scars and nicks that cover your body are normal.
To you they feel like home.
To you the scrapes and scars, the cuts and nicks, feel like home. They feel like the forest as you run through the underbrush, barely dodging trees and roughly catching your arms against them accidentally. They feel like jumping into streams and rivers, scraping your knees on the rocks at the bottom as the current sweeps you off your feet. They feel like hunting as you accidentally catch your finger with your blade as you finish off your prey.
To him they were worrying, they showed pain and danger, but to you that was normal, pain and danger were regular parts of your life. To him it wasnât, and he felt the need to make sure you were okay. You were standing strongly so clearly you werenât too injured, but the idea of you being one of his people made him feel the need to check you over, to help you.
He jumped down from his hiding spot, gracefully landing in front of you, and suddenly you took off. You sprinted away, terrified of the stranger. You wanted to make your way back home, back to your mother palulukan and the den you called home. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel safe.
The man lagged for a second, thinking, before deciding to follow you, taking off after you. The chase went on for a while, his lungs burned as he kept up with you, close behind, but he didnât know how much longer he could keep up, and you didnât seem to be slowing down.
âWait, I just want to help!â He shouted after you, but that seemed to spook you more and you sped up.
You had no idea what the strange man had said, but his loud voice scared you. The sounds he was making were foreign to you, and it frightened you. He was communicating in a way you never had before. The way you communicated with your family was hisses and growls.
You were a good runner, had good stamina, but he seemed to be keeping up, although you could tell he was getting tired. The unfortunate part was you were getting tired too, and you would have to stop soon. You figured it would be good to stop sooner than later so you had enough energy to fight in case the need arose.
You saw a clearing to the right and zagged that way before stopping on the far end of it, crouched down like a palulukan, ready to pounce. The man stopped on the other side, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Like this he looked less scary, he looked weak as he was out of breath, like you could win this fight easily.
He looked at you through the braids that had fallen in his face, and his eyes held no malice. He wanted you to feel safe, or as safe as possible, around him, so he showed his weakness as he was out of breath. He wanted you to know he wasnât going to hurt you as he showed you had easily outran him.
However you still felt threatened.
Your eyes were blown wide, adrenaline coursing through you as your mind ran a mile a minute. Your ears pinned against your head and you let out a wild hiss at the man, bearing your teeth and snapping them together a few times as a threat.
He didnât challenge you back, instead dropping to the ground to sit with his legs crossed, arms in the air as a sign of surrender, or peace, that he meant no harm. He tried to make himself look harmless, tried to make himself look smaller.
Your face scrunched up in confusion, why wasnât he challenging you, you asked yourself. You werenât convinced he meant to harm You couldnât let your guard down, and your hand flew to your knife at your hip as you snarled at him, trying to elicit a reaction.
He then realized he had his own weapons on him and he lifted his bow over his head from where it rested against him, and threw it to the side. He hesitated as he took his knife out of its holder, but he threw it next to his bow a few feet away.
âThey're gone, okay.â He pointed to the weapons where they laid, âI want to help you. Iâm not going to hurt you.â He tried to explain.
Again you didnât understand him, ears twitching at the unfamiliar sounds. Now you were more stressed than before. You stayed in place, ears pinned to your head again as you growled, but your hand moved away from your knife.
âThere we go.â He spoke as your hand fell to your side, âWhat's your name?â He asked.
You felt the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion starting to catch up to you and making you less hostile than before, blurring the lines of your fear. Your eyes were narrowed as your head tilted to the side, a questioning look on your face. You were scared because you couldnât understand him, but you became more curious the more he spoke.
His voice was interesting, smooth and calming. You hadnât heard anything like it before, and although you looked similar you werenât sure if you could make the same sounds as him, accustomed to growls and hisses.
When you didnât say anything back the man tried something different. He pointed to himself, âNeteyam.â Then he pointed to you, humming, âHm?â
You growled back, trying to communicate the only way you knew how. He just cringed, taking it as aggressive while you were simply trying to voice your confusion.
He tried again, âNeteyamâŠâ He pointed to himself, not saying anything else afterwards.
âNeteyam.â You whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Then you cleared your throat, âNeteyam.â You parroted.
âYes. Neteyam.â He nodded, happy you seemed to be getting somewhere, âYou?â He asked, pointing to you.
âHm?â You hummed, copying the noise he had made to you earlier. You thought it was a questioning sound, and you hoped your assumption was correct.
Something clicked to Neteyam, âYou canât understand me, can you?â He asked, not particularly expecting an answer.
âHm?â You questioned again.
âOkayâŠâ He took a second to think. Who were you? Where did you come from?
âNeteyam.â You spoke again, getting his attention. You then pointed to yourself and growled, you seemed to be trying to communicate something, and you were. You had growled your name, what your palulukan family called you.
He didnât quite understand you, âHm?â He asked.
You just growled again, pointing to yourself. Clearly this wasnât getting anywhere.
âIâm going to give you a name, or a nickname I guess.â He told you, but you didnât understand. If you had known what he had said you would have disagreed adamantly, you donât need a different name, you have one already, but you didnât understand, so when he pointed to you and said, â(Y/n).â The name sounded beautiful, and you loved the way it rolled off his tongue.
Your head tilted to the side, confusion written on your face, but you didnât protest. Instead you nodded your head, seeming content, âNeteyam.â You pointed to him, â(Y/n), hm?â You pointed to yourself questioningly.
He smiled, âYes.â
âYes.â You copied him, but you werenât smiling, still confused by the foreign words.
He patted the ground in front of him, inviting you to sit by him, but you donât approach, instead sitting where you were a few feet away. He seems so calm, so relaxed, as he sits with his legs crossed and arms behind his as he leans on them. You however are stiff, skittish, as you sit on your knees, hands in your lap. You looked ready to take off at any second.
Neteyam tried to calm you down with reassuring words, even though he knew you couldnât understand him, his calm tone seemed to take off the edge. You were scared of him, but slowly starting to believe he meant no harm. He wasnât dangerous.
As you sat there with him he went on, and on, talking about whatever came to mind with that smooth tone. You could sit there and listen to him talk forever, but soon the sky is darkening and you realize it is time to head back home, to the comfort of your den, your mother would be waiting for you when you get there. She would be ready to allow you to cuddle up next to her and let go of the stress of today.
Youâre not frantic when you stand up, instead more fixed on having a mission, to get home, but Neteyam doesnât understand that, and so he stands up after you. You donât pay him any mind until you start walking away and he follows you. Frustrated that heâs trying to follow you, you hold your hand out towards him, hissing.
âNo!â You shout, a word you had picked up from Neteyam talking to you.
âOh.â Neteyam simply comments. You were a quick learner apparently, picking up on the word and figuring out how to use it already.
You turn away and start walking off, and this time he doesnât follow you, waving towards you and saying, âGoodbye, (Y/n).â He pauses before saying quieter, âI hope I see you again.â Not loud enough for you to hear.
Your mother palulukan was confused that night when you came home without a meal, but when you broke down in tears she moved to comfort you. You let out all of the stress from over the past few hours in tears and sobs, and eventually you stilled, fell asleep on her large warm body, and finally you rested.
You had intended to never see Neteyam again, but you kept running into him. It was frustrating and confusing. You had no idea why it kept happening, but of course you knew Eywa had a plan for everyone, and everything happens for a reason, but you werenât sure why she was so insistent on putting you and Neteyam together.
The day after your first encounter you had your second meeting. You had been trying to hunt when you somehow ended up back at the clearing. You werenât sure how you ended up there, but you gave in, sitting with him for a while before continuing your hunt.
The third time, the third day in a row now, you had been napping in a completely different area of the forest when you woke up to Neteyam looking at you curiously. It wasnât necessarily in a creepy way, but it had spooked you at first before you calmed down. This time you did not stick around, walking off with a dismissive grunt to Neteyam.
The fourth time, a few days later, he had found you while you had been frolicking around in the Hallelujah Mountains. You had been hiding out there, trying to avoid him by not even being in the forest, but he had found you again somehow.
That went on, and on, until you admitted defeat, accepted your fate, Eywa was determined to have you and Neteyam together, and who were you to deny the Great Motherâs will. She knew all, and you trusted her, so you took her lead.
Every time you ran into Neteyam you would spend a little more time with him, and eventually that time built into hours, and then days, from sunrise to sunset you would spend your hours with him. You cherished your time with Neteyam and he certainly enjoyed your company, your attention.
Your palulukan mother was less than pleased with how much time you were spending with the Naâvi boy, but she understood you needed companionship with your own kind. She figured you would grow curious eventually and would venture out in search of people like you, and she was proud of you for making a friend, but she wished you would be home a little more.
When you finally gave into spending time with Neteyam you figured you should learn how to communicate, learn to speak his language. You would much rather teach him yours, but yours was more general emotions and less words, less actual conversation and more communicating how you're feeling through growls and hisses, hunched shoulders and bared teeth.
Today you were sitting by a river, somewhere Neteyam had shown you, as he tried to teach you the Naâvi language.
Neteyam pointed to different features on his face as you named them quietly, touching them on your own face as you went, âEars. Eyes. Nose. Mouth.â
âGood job!â He praised you, a smile on both of your faces.
You were learning slowly, struggling to pick up a second language so much different from your first, but when you grasped a certain word you had it for good. You had started using the words you knew in basic sentences like âHow you?â when you would first see him. You would listen intently as if you knew everything he was saying although you only picked up on certain words.
What really got Neteyam was when you would say goodbye when you parted ways at the end of the day. Instead of saying âGoodbye.â or something similar you would blurt out âLove you!â as you walked away.
It always got Neteyamâs heart beating in his chest, hard, and he couldnât help but smile every time. He would say, âGoodbye (Y/n). Love you too.â because the one time he hadnât reciprocated you had pouted and nearly cried.
He didnât think you understood the significance of those words, of the word love, but you definitely did. You didnât use it lightly, it being the only word you had learned to describe how you were feeling for Neteyam, and it described your feelings perfectly.
You truly did love him, as a friend, maybe more.
You appreciated what he did for you, but it went so much deeper than that. You loved how he was patient with you, giving you all the time you needed. You loved his voice, how he would talk to you even if you didnât understand. You loved how he laughed, how he smiled, how his eyes seemed to glow when he was around you.
You love him.
You loved him like you loved the forest, itâs green foliage keeping you safe throughout your life. You loved him like you loved your mother palulukan, like a warm hug at the end of the day. You loved him like you loved the sounds that played all around you constantly, drowning out your negative thoughts.
You love him like home.
As you were mulling over your feelings, thinking whatever came to your mind, you had been zoning out, gone silent as you looked off into the distance. Neteyam took this chance to mess with you a little. He scooped up some water from the stream in his hands and threw it on you, bringing you out of your thoughts as the cool water hit your face.
You gasped, âNeteyam!â
He just laughed, pointing at you as your jaw was dropped, brow muscles raised, and eyes open wide. Your look of offense amused him and your look quickly switched to a scowl, and Neteyam felt himself still, that was never a good look on you.
You moved quickly, smiling mischievously splashing water onto him too. He looked surprised, like he hadnât expected this from you, and you used that to your advantage, splashing him again, harder this time, with more water.
This time he was quick to move, trying to grab you and throw you into the deeper part of the river, but your reflexes were faster than him and you got up, running away like a mad woman. You smiled before jumping into the river, submerging your lower body before he could do it for you.
You thought hard, trying to form a coherent sentence, when you thought you had it you shouted, âCome get me!â Taunting him.
As you taunted him he just smiled, a sense of childish joy overcoming him. It reminded him of when he was younger. When he and his siblings would play in streams closer to home. When his father would play with them. It reminded him of family, you were quickly becoming family, but in a deeper way.
He loved you like family, he loved you like a calm afternoon at home with everyone sitting around, talking and playing games. He loved you like a partner, someone to share his own home with, where his family could come over for dinner and share stories. He loved you like someone new to the family, like someone his family could learn to love.
He loves you.
âOh yeah?â Neteyam asked, smirking at you. He stayed where we was on the river bank, feet barely in the water.
âYeah!â You shouted, challenging him by splashing the water around you.
He seemed to be contemplating it, over exaggerating his movements dramatically, âI donât know⊠I might just stay hereâŠâ He joked.
You frowned, not understanding his joking tone of voice, âFineâŠâ You turned away from him, getting ready to leave the river.
However you didnât get the chance when you heard splashing behind you, and it was too late. He ran up to you splashing you, getting your entire back wet, including your hair.
You whipped around, gasping both at the cold water and the shock of not expecting it. You shouted at him, arms crossed over your chest, âRude!â
Neteyam laughs loudly, âOh Iâm rude? Youâre the one who told me to come get you.â He defended himself, rolling his eyes.
âYouâŠâ You thought of what word to use, not sure what the word for this action was, you settled on, âhit me first!â
Neteyam was quick to correct you, âSplash, the word is splash.â He really did not want you telling people he was hitting you if you ever met his clan. He hoped it was less of an if, and more of a when.
You took in the information, âYou splash me first.â You shrugged your shoulders, feeling you won the conversation.
âAnd Iâll do it again!â Neteyam laughed, running at you, ready to throw more water in your face, but you turned to run away from his attack.
As you were running you slipped, falling to your knees and feeling pain shoot through one of them, âOw.â You hissed out.
Neteyam was quick to rush to your side, helping you up and walking you to the edge of the river where you sat down. You inspected the cut, it wasnât much and you would be okay in a day or so, âI am okay.â You tried to assure Neteyam.
Neteyam frowned, âIâm sorry. Let me fix you up?â He asked.
You knew if you said no he would practically beg you to let him help you, so you gave in, âOkay.â
Neteyam sat down, pulling your leg over his lap so he had better access to your knee. He inspected the small wound, thinking about what Kiri had told him would be best for it.
He was quick to pull out the little pouch of healing equipment he had, herbs and plants, pastes and drinks, he was equipped for anything. He had decided to carry anything he would need to treat your small cuts and scrapes because every time you would see him you would have more and more. They never seemed to stop coming, so he promised he would do his best to help you.
He pulled out a paste you recognized, and before he could speak you mocked him, attempting to copy his voice, âThis one will sting.â You fell into a fit of giggles afterwards.
He just chuckled at you, âYouâre right.â You seemed to always be right, you picked up on other things, besides learning the Naâvi language, easily.
You smiled, sighing happily, âI know.â
Neteyam hums, smiling at you , âTell me, how have you been? What have you done today?â He tried to distract you while he put the paste on.
It worked as you quickly responded, âIt has been great. I have gotten to see youâŠâ You trailed off, smiling shyly, before continuing, âThis morning I went on a hunt, took food home to my mom. My siblings are moving out finally, so it is just us now. Less mouths to feed.â
âGood⊠Neteyam answered simply, focusing on what he was doing as he wrapped a bandage around your knee.
âThank you.â You pulled his face up to look at you, a small smile was on your face, lips gently curved, eyes softened to liquid gold, âFor everything.â
He sighed, content, as his face melted into your hand, pressing your skin to his, âItâs really no big deal. I would do anything for you. I would get you anything you need, anything you want.â He admitted softly, quietly.
You smiled, leaning in and pressing your forehead to his, âI know, and Eywa do I love it. I love you.â
He smiles back, the happiness reaching his eyes, and if you listen close enough you can hear his heart thumping in his chest, ready to pop out, âI love you too, (Y/n). I see you, and I will show you that every day.
Every time he tends to your wounds he is so careful, he is so careful with you. He is careful in a way the forest has never been, in a way it never will be in the future. The forest gives you safety in the form of protection through the hard and marred skin you have covering your body. The forest shows you its love through injuries youâve sustained from your years of survival, it gives you love by allowing you to survive.
Now you donât need the love of the forest, you need the love of him. He feels like scars, and bruises, and cuts, and pain. He feels like safety. Like how you once had found safety and solace in the cuts and bruises you bared, how your unkempt hair and scars felt like your home, to you he feels like home.

Word Bank:
Great Mother (Eywa)
Palulukan (Thanator)
Syaksyuk (Prolemuris)
Yerik (Hexaped)
Nantang (Viperwolf)
Ikran (Mountain Banshee)
Omaticaya (Forest Naâvi)
Oloâeyktan (Clan leader)
Eywa (Naâvi goddess)

#fanfic#fanfiction#avatar fanfiction#avatar the way of water#atwow#atwow fanfiction#avatar movie#atwow fics#neteyam sully#neteyam#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x na'vi!reader#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#neteyam x female reader#neteyam x fem!reader#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam suli x reader
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Hello, I've been browsing doc templates and I like your stuff! If you're still doing requests, can I request a template-thingy for a gold/star/sun themed doc? Anyway have a nice day byeeâ
11 - Southern Gothic
For Desktop View
A FREE MINIMALIST Google Doc with spooky sun/gold/star accents. Perfectly encapsulating the vision of aesthetic black tones with gold on top, this template can give a seamless look to any character's vibe. 4 pages, 7 pictures. A perfect balance of visuals and content.
I find giving Google Docs for free to be much more reasonable than credit/payment, it's text on a document and encourages writers. Feel free to edit/copy/use as you wish!
To make your editable copy: File > Make copy
To edit images: Right click > Replace Image
To edit drawing features: Double click drawing > Right click > Replace Image
To make shareable: Share > Change access to "Anyone with link" FIND THE DOCUMENT HERE Notes: Not entirely the theme I'd assume you were going for when asking, but I had a lot of fun doing it! I hope it works out for you!! Thanks for the request as always and I'm glad you like my docs!!
#discord roleplay#discord rp#google docs#roleplay#roleplay resources#character template#google docs template#minimalist template#oc template#roleplay docs
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DRIP POST 2: E for Everyone Edition
this time it's not a remake per se, it's a re-release lol. this time with handy-dandy item codes to enable you - yes, you! - to partake in my fashion obsession.
simply click on the name of the outfit and it will take you to my godforsaken google doc and show you the codes for that outfit. should show up at the top of the page (give it a sec). hopefully I haven't borked anything.
let me know if there are any issues.
drip post 3 is being cooked as we speak but it will take some time.
IMPORTANT
you need to install some mods
you need to enable the console
don't paste an entire cell of codes into the console, they'll get cut off and you won't get all the items. copy and paste about 2-3 lines at a time
my document has the necessary info but I'm also providing instructions under the cut.
there's an overlap between some outfits so you might get several copies of one item. in this case just yeet them on the floor and let some bum pick them up. or sell them. who am I to tell you what to do.
âââ
the console:
right-click on KCD2 in your Steam library
choose 'Properties'
select 'Launch Options'
put -devmode in the launch options
launch the game and press the tilde (~) key
use ctrl+c and ctrl+v to copy and paste the codes, then just hit enter
the mods:
Refined Garments
Outer Garments
Custom Clothing and Armor
More flower wreaths (there's one outfit that needs this for now but there might be more later)
the drip:
Henry
Black Knight v1, cuirass inside
this is MY HENRY, iconic outfit, never gonna give you up never gonna let you down
2. Black Knight v2, cuirass outside
3. Guardian Angel
my Henry doesn't usually go for white or silver, he's black&gold kind of guy, but I decided we need one outfit
4. Trosky Traveller (before the waspening)
not fully happy with this outfit but it's already err a historical one, I've already gone through Trosky wearing it so I won't retcon it haha
5. THE WASPENING
same shit here, it's a piece of my playthrough history now. weird, bright yellow history
6. Leipa Simp
and now I make new history
7. Bluebell
wasn't expecting this one, it just sort of happened and I weirdly like it
8. Shifty Fella
is he trying to steal your wallet? is his back hurting? why not both!
9. Horse Thief
up to no good this guy. steal your heart, steal your horse, get 60 groschen for his trouble... wait, horse industry is a scam!
10. Armed and Armoured Robbery
can't shoot straight because he's on his way to bisexual awakening
11. Mushroom Enthusiast
those mushrooms won't gather themselves, you know! *cronch*
12. Falconer
all hail the birbs
13. Noble Bastard
when you need something fancy but not too difficult to pull off
14. Night Reader
casual comfy outfit with optional reading glasses. read a nice book at 3 am and watch your boyfriend as he sleeps!
15. Dubious Doctor
impersonating a medical professional during "Fifth Commandment"
16. Reverse Ball and Chain
when you miss a fucker so much you start wearing his colours. except the yellow gambeson you've found had aggressively magenta belts and you had to reverse the order of colours. I figured clown shoes were appropriate in this situation
17. That Mine Is Mine
impersonating a rich fuck during "Via Argentum". rich people wear golden armour, right?
note: actually wearing armour while talking to Buresh is not recommended. apparently it makes you look like a homeless vagabond lol
18. Red Wedding
this wedding also ended in a bloody mess
19. Nostalgic
kcd1 starting outfit colours but now Henry can afford better clothes
20. Dandelion Dance
what a surprise, more yellow shit
Pebbles and her codes are gonna be in the reblog
âââ
#kingdom come deliverance#kingdom come deliverance 2#kcd2#kcd2 screenshots#henry of skalitz#jindĆich ze skalice#pebbles#sterling screenshots#sterling drips
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Straight Laced, Chapter XI: To Be A Perfect HeroineâŠ
Description: After the Londonâs Royal Ballet companyâs prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the balletâs young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the positionâs physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jetĂ© into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive â the Queenâs Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of Londonâs most eligible bachelors.
For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and⊠his pretend lover. While debuting as Londonâs new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nationâs polite society while actively searching for a serial killer â all while being an immigrant from France with a dancerâs reputation.
What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?
Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing
EXTRA TW: MENTIONS OF suicide (just in terms of the Swan Lake storyline!) And again this is a reminder to read the general trigger warnings. This is a heavier chapter that hits MOST of those warnings and your safety and comfort comes before everything! Please donât hesitate to reach out to me if you would like clarification about this chapterâs subject matter.
Authorâs Note: Hi everyone! Itâs been a long time coming for this chapter. I hope this one can finally answer some of the questions youâve all been havingâŠin more ways than one <3. I hope you find somewhere comfy to read this and get a snack because this baby is over 10,000 words. More than 18 pages, 11-sized font on my Google Docs. Some of these scenes Iâve had in my mind for 2 years!! Hope you love this one.
Happy Reading,
Dan
â PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER â
MASTERLIST

November 11, 1895
The Royal Opera Houseâs Backstage, Your Dressing Room
Just as you warned the stubborn Earl, his insistence to speak with you made you late. If you wanted your makeup to be flawless for the final performance, you couldnât stretch for your usual 30 minutes. And you did want your makeup to be flawless. It wasnât an option, under Natashaâs leadership.
At least your pre-performance routine was just as ingrained into your subconscious as the show itself was. Every step you took to ready yourself helped you submerge deeper into Odette, a desperate attempt to comprehend the last two days of your turbulent life. Starting with your stage makeup, you spread rosewater across your face to rid it of debris. Natasha used to handle this routine for you, but Ciel asked you to start taking care of your own makeup, purchased by him. It was a precaution he insisted upon, given that Amelié died from a poison that invaded through the skin.
You made careful eye contact with your reflection in your vanity mirror, noting your bitten lips and tired eyes. You sighed, eyes darting to the clip of stationary attached to the corner of the glass. Cielâs home number was still adhered there, the Earl adamantly refusing to remove it in the event of an emergency.
You pressed your face into a towel, drying it. The familiar smell of rosewater alerted your senses; awaiting the stage was like electricity crackling through your veins, despite your melancholy. Still, your mind was rightfully conflicted, overdrawn.
William Wood was not the killer you had been chasing all this time. Ciel suspected that Natasha was. Gwen had apparently lied to you to harm your relationship. But even still, Ciel once warned you that he was a liar. A manipulator who tended to work people like the game pieces his company manufactured. Only the best were so difficult to decode:
âI care about you more than you know, Y/n.â Ciel always sounded so at ease, so sure. You felt that he always had a perfect arrangement of words sitting on the tip of his tongue, to falsely promise, to serenade. To lie.
âYou do not,â you had insisted, ignoring the earnestness in his sapphire eye. It couldnât be real. You felt a flare of stubbornness in your chest, urging you to shove him away.
âI do.â He refused to blink. Adamant in spite of the weight that his accusation had.
Natasha Wood was one of the only people in your life that believed in you. He didnât know her like you did.
Before Natasha, you had your mother⊠Until she died about four years into your studies at the Paris Opera School of Dance. You were nine years old. On top of your enrollment, she couldnât afford the medication that the doctorâs prescribed for her cough. It had only grown more severe week by week, until she was coughing up blood and her lips tinged with blue. Your father only gave your mother so much money to encourage her to keep their rendezvousâ and you, of course âa secret.
âWaste this money on my end of life care? When my shining star of a daughter has her whole life ahead of her? I will not do it,â your mother always insisted. You remembered how her cold hand felt against yours, it was iron, despite being clammy with oncoming death.
After she died, the dance school allowed you to continue studying there, your talent promising enough to be worth fostering. By the time you were fifteen (or fourteen, was it?) you were old enough to make the school a profit through its dance foyer to make up for your free education.
Youâd never forget the final rasp of her breath.
Following the curve of your cheekbones, you highlighted your face with a soft shade of pink. The spotlight tended to wash out ballerinaâs features. Now, you stared back at Odette, the White Swan. Y/n Y/l/n was the star hidden beneath, but no matter how seasoned a prima ballerina you were, not even you could shove the complete extent of your worries far beneath your costume.
You remembered the shock that pounded at your chest when Violet told you about William quite well, how most of her allegations were true. You thought you knew the owner of the opera house. Could you have been so misdirected by your mentor, too?
Until the second Ciel stopped you from entering the carriage, you had a practiced apology for Natasha waiting on your lips. You were supposed to be so sorry for not telling her about her husbandâs infidelity and crimes, for your means of investigating her husband being so intimate. For imprisoning him without her knowledge.
Now? You felt as if you were prosecuting your older sister. Her every word, her every glance. Once it was in search of approval, now, it was forâŠbloodlust? You couldnât see it. Natasha could hardly walk without assistanceâhow could she kill anyone?
Why would she hurt anyone? What motivation would Natasha have? Killing her own cast members? For her husbandâs violence against them? It was unfathomable. No version of an explanation would stop bile from creeping its way up your throatâeach new explanation that came to your mind was only more vile than the last.
Though, you had to ponder: why would Ciel make such a claim if he was not sure? Your mutual need to solve the case was one of the first feelings you had in common. You should have put aside your pride and joined Ciel to interrogate William, or at the very least, listened to the Earlâs concerns. He had something he needed to tell you, but you simply wouldnât hear it, too occupied with your own hurt.
It was too late for regret, you supposed. You could only meet him after the show and hope for the best.
Mechanically, you rolled your performance tights up your legs, carefully inspecting them for pulls or tears in your body-length mirror. Satisfied, you slid on your ivory pointe shoes, ensuring they were straight laced and spotless, free of grime. Lastly, you stepped into one of your Odette tutus, this corset flaring into a feathered shirt with gold detailing lining the neckline and bodice. It only felt right to wear for your last Swan Lake performanceâ it was the first iteration of the costume you wore after inheriting the role from Janet.
Janetâs lifeless face flashed in your mind, painting over that fond opening night memory with a new coat of guilt. The young woman had been a beautiful dancer, and a nice person who provided for her family. And her sick motherâs prescription, you made yourself flinch, dry mouth relieved when you took a drink of Sauternes. You poured yourself half a glass, the previously unopened wine bottle a precaution you tucked in the back or your wardrobe for emergencies. If this evening didnât qualify itself as an emergency, you werenât sure what would have.
Perfectly on time, your dressing room door flew open, never following a knock. Approximately 30 minutes before the curtain ascended, Natasha always made sure to lace your bodice for you, always finding fault when another cast member did so. The director pushed the door open with the bottom of her cane, her cool seagreen eyes scanning your makeup, dragging down your figure.
Looking for notes to make, you noticed.
âIt is good to see you, Y/n,â Natasha said, her expression unchanging from stormy indifference. You couldnât place when the director had lost her supportive smile, the warm, yet authoritative way she would request for moreâfor betterâand when a frigid insistence stiffened that inspiring patience. When did fear settle in your stomach instead of admiration? âI was worried about attendance today, after Maisie. Quite a tragedyâshe was talented.â
The apology you practiced died on your lips, killed by your surprise and uncertainty. Until now, Natasha never addressed any company lossesâ she attributed them as disappearances from a ballerina being unable to handle the pressures of the industry. You had assumed she didnât know better because the press was restricted from covering the mysterious company deaths, the Queen fearing public panic, according to Cielâs acquaintance in the press. After Maisie Stannard died near the steps of the British Museumâs gala, the press had no choice but to cover the incident.
Therefore, Natasha had no choice but to address it with her employees. It was a loss to the company, now well-known by the rest of the country.
That being said, she certainly wouldnât reveal that William was currently pacing the confines of a holding cell. All the public knew was that Maisie Stannard was killedâno one knew of any of the other company deaths. Williamâs arrest was only knowledge of Cielâs (and his accomplices, of course), the State, and Natashaâs. You couldnât imagine what the director told the rest of the company in order to explain Williamâs prolonged, sudden absenceâespecially after heâd only been back from France for about a week prior to you and Ciel arresting him.
Ciel suspected Natasha of shooting Maisie. Of poisoning AmeliĂ©, forcing Janet off of the Tower Bridgeâyou didnât even know the gruesome details from Elizaâs body, when they found it. Your guilt for suspecting the currently lacing your feathered corset in her usual meticulous way was so consuming, you forced yourself to think of Violetâs distressed cries to remind yourself of who you were being cautious for. You had to solve this for the victims, their loved ones, preventing any more murders. You had to justify yourselfâit was a serial killer investigation, after all.
You would have to touch base with Ciel.
âI cannot imagine who could have done this to her,â you mumbled evasively, finishing off your wine glass with a flourish. You welcomed the selectionâs competing tastes of acid and sweet butterscotch, and tried not to lament over the untouched cigar in your drawer. The smoke would have done better to soothe your nerves, but arriving late had limited you.
âA young, beautiful woman, a ballerina who was married to a successful man,â Natasha mused purposefully, âyou would be surprised, Y/n. Ugliness lurks everywhere and there are always sacrifices to be made. As Odette, should you not know that? The perfect heroine always does.â
Ugliness lurks everywhere and there are always sacrifices to be made. You were unsure of what to make of Natashaâs words.
Ciel once told you that you needed to make your target speak in an investigation. They already had their agendaâevading youâand sometimes, what they refused to say was more telling than what they did.
Natasha had to be aware of your role in her husbandâs arrest; that to some degree, you were an accessory to the Queenâs Guard Dogâs investigation. She was gauging youâ whether or not that was in defense of her crimes, as Ciel would have suspected, or looking to get a sense of what Ciel made of Maisieâs death. After all, theyâd arrested William, in part, because they believed he was the killer. Was she attempting to learn if they had their suspicions turned elsewhere? If she was their suspect, she would want to know if her cover was still intact.
You needed to control yourself, put on the facade of a sad, yet trusting employee. Blissfully unaware and shallowâthe purse dog of a wealthy Earl. Limited, materialistic, uncaring. Almost as if you were reprising the woman you were prior to starting this investigation. In your own way, you could be the perfect heroine.
âI do, of course,â you answered, double-checking the measured bow that Natasha pulled the lace into, each cross section between the eyelets matching perfectly. The director was nothing if not precise, now turning to fasten your headpieceâs clips into your hair, already twisted into a braided ballerina bun. âOdette is too trusting, putting her future in the whims of a man who only just met her,â you admitted, the words making you feel like a hypocrite.
âSpeaking on the subjectâunexpected uglinessâI want to apologize. I heard about Mr. Woodâs ââ you started, deciding that the smartest way to protect yourself from Natashaâs probing was to behave exactly as you had initially planned to. Apologizing would convey the submissive guilt the director would have expected from you. In doing so, you would assure her that there was nothing amiss between you, shielding the fact that Ciel had cautioned you in the first place.
âTwenty minutes to Act One, I expect my company members to be focused on the show. Especially my principal dancer,â Natashaâs piercing eyes flashed, her words dipped in ice, no matter how she tried to inject warmth back into her face. She looked older than she did three months ago, her worry lines more prominent in her fair skin. Exhaustion showed itself in deep bags beneath her impatient stare.
âThe Sugar Plum Fairy has the highest jumps, the widest turns. She is the embodiment of grace and poise. I would much prefer you to be spending your spare time on a barre rehearsing instead of surveying my personal affairs. You will be able to continue being my prima ballerina, yes?â She pulled her lips into a wry smile, an expression that was close to pity.
You didnât expect Natasha to engage with you about her husbandâs arrest, but you wanted to watch her. Decode how she decided to evade you, seeing that she didnât so much as let the words escape your mouth.
Not to mention, you werenât surprised that Natasha chose to demean your talent. She knew your dedication to managing her opinion of you well, having fostered your need to please alongside the rest of the companyâs. All of this to say: Natasha chose to turn the focus of the conversation back to you, denying your disguised request to discuss William.
âYes,â you repeated, forcing your gaze to fall downcast and self-consciously hesitate to return to meet her eyes. âI do appreciate this opportunity, Natasha,â you added pathetically, watching the directorâs warm authoritarianism resettle in her face confidently, reinforced by your obsequious behavior. Her thin lips managed a smile. You had reassured her, and that in of itself, worried you. It proved she was hiding something. âYou wonât hear anything more of it from me.â
âFocus is a crucial asset for ballerinas,â Nastasha assured you too brightly given her stormy entrance. She gestured to her cane with her chinâit leaned on your vanity behind you, since she needed both hands to tie your costume and affix your headpiece. You obediently handed the medical accessory to her, more than familiar with the directorâs gestures.
âRemember to stop by Pollyâs office after tonightâs performance. She wishes to triple check your measurements for a spare Sugar Plum costume. We were hoping to have these appointments finished after practice yesterday evening, but with you here now, I would like it complete,â Natasha said, plucking a stray hair of yours off your shoulder and letting it fall to the floor.
âOf course. I will see her immediately after the performance,â you answered simply, biting back your frustration at her dig. Natasha was subliminally critiquing your decreased amount of time at the opera house. Before Ciel roped you into his investigation, you spent most of your time in the opera houseâs studio, fiercely guarding your promotion by rehearsing as much as you could manage. Now, you attended your mandatory rehearsals and classes, but nothing more. Instead, you opted to rehearse in the safety of the dance studio Ciel had Sebastian create for you.
âDo give tonight everything you have, Y/n,â Natasha pressed her weight back into her cane, giving you a final once over before she opened your door, preparing to leave. Each night, Natasha helped you with the finishing details of your costume and circulated through the rest of the company to solve any last-minute issues. âThe end of this run also sets the tone for the beginning of Nutcracker season.â
âI will never give a performance that I cannot be proud of,â you replied truthfully, painting on an Odile-inspired devil-may-care smile for Natasha. âAllow me to remind you why you chose me for this role.â
âYou know what I like to hear,â she answered, casting a wink at you from over her shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, Antoine, the dancer performing as Prince Seigfried, interjected with a clear question on his face. Knowing better than to wait for Natasha, you showed yourself to the backstage wings.
In the chaos that took place backstage, you always focused on the excited chatter of the audience and the pre-performance orchestral music from the other side of the curtain to fuel your adrenaline. You could feel their energy, it radiated in waves. For the next three hours, you were Odette, Queen of the Swans, and Odile, the deceptive daughter of sorcerer Von Rothbart.
You could meet their hardships with the same honesty and emotion you faced your own, and step off the stage to put a real end to this investigation.
That was what set you apart as a professional.

Two Hours Later
The Royal Opera Houseâs Main Stage
This was the final scene of the show. The Lakeside, Odetteâs last stand.
You were poised in the air, the music growing severe as Von Rothbart carried you, pulling Odette out of Prince Siegfriedâs protective arms. Until this second, your characters had been entangled with one another, dancing intimately in forgiveness. The music had been soft, portraying a delicate, damaged love slowly on the mend as Siegfried pleaded with Odette, guilty of falling for Odileâs ruse at the ball.
Now, the dark stage flickered, illusions creating the look of lightning and crashing drums replicated rolling thunder.
You entered this scene with a heavy premonition in the pit of your stomach, and you allowed yourself to wear that alarm on your face like an accessory to better portray the story. You were just as distressed as your character, the innocent White Swan. Moments ago, she returned to the lake, heartbroken because Prince Siegfried professed his love to the wrong woman. He had been fooled, but the curse still forced Odette back into her swan form, leaving her to mourn her humanity with the rest of the cursed swans. In spite of her forgiveness, the damage had already been done.
The curse may never be lifted. They could never successfully be in love. It could never beâa sentiment that was familiar to you. Even so, it stung like a fresh wound, never seeming to dull night by night.
The lovers shared a brief dance, only to be torn apart by the sorcerer. Now, the prince reached, his fingers only managing to graze hers longingly. Your eyes followed the missed touch, your head jerking upwards as if you were further panicked by the failed attempt.
Now you were caught between both dancers, each hand held by opposite forces. Love and death, Prince Siegfried and Von Rothbart. At this point in the performance, Odette was dancing on the line between her life and death, breaking the curse and succeeding through love or not breaking the curse and succeeding through death.
Ugliness lurks everywhere and there are always sacrifices to be made, you couldnât keep yourself from thinking over your old mentorâs words. You always thought of Natasha when you danced.
The woman was everything you wanted to be: a self-starter in spite of her immigrant status, a brilliant talent, thoughtful, confident. She had landed a marriage that had appeared loving and fair, and she was still a dancer, in spirit.
The foreboding melancholy settling on your shoulders, your Odette was more skittish than she normally was. She was rather unsteady as the two men guided and pulled her every which way, one trying to hold, one trying to capture. You allowed yourself to feel weightless: it was the best means for Odetteâs dancing to look just as induced upon her as it was in the moment. You even allowed your head to fall lazily in line with your neck with every turn, constructing the facade of a woman succumbing to her curse, tired of begging for a way out of the cursed life that held her hostage.
For a moment, you let the tension leave your body, draping lifelessly over Von Rothbartâs supporting clutches. The sorcerer had successfully pulled the White Swan out of her princeâs hand. Odette was exerted within her life. She knew that her curse was permanent, and yet, she craved her self-determination. Her right to love. The right to live as she wanted to, everlastingly.
The perfect heroine? Were there truly always sacrifices to be made? You wondered, flicking your wrists and positioning your fingers as your Odette confidently broke free from the sorcererâs grip and stepped up the short stairway. Without another second, she threw herself into the lake. The orchestra played dynamically, the swell of music portraying the death of Von Rothbart, the antagonist collapsing and dying from Odetteâs sacrifice.
Their deaths left the prince to follow Odette, preferring to die and reunite with her in spirit rather than live without her. The cast of swansâthe rest of the companyâremained on stage, watching in equal parts awe and horror. Both you and Antoine, the princeâs dancer, jumped into a stage opening that the stagehands kept lined with mattresses to make the short fall as safe as it could be as the group had a final intricate dance number. You realized that this would be your last time getting back to your feet after making that show-stopping jump.
Now, you were made of energy as the both of you ran back behind stage to the wings to make your final entrance for the season. You could never see the audience under the blinding stage lights, but you could always feel it. The opera house always held its breath, the silences between Tchaikovskyâs masterful creations were always punctuated with quiet sniffles from the audience.
Swan Lake was a tragic love story, after all. You would knowâyou felt well-acquainted with the idea of tragic love. Falling head over pointe for a stone cold, callous Earl without ever meaning to. In fact, while trying not to in the midst of a murder investigation. The very investigation that you felt you were on the precipice of closing.
Would your story end like Odetteâs? you wondered. A young woman making her final stand in the face of heartbreak.
You supposed, this performance was nothing more than a storyline. A fable. Nothing to build silly premonitions over, in spite of the danger of your situation.
After your music cue, the spirits of Odette and Prince Siegfried stepped back out onto the lit stage, hand in hand. You shared one last jetĂ©, jumping across the stage in perfect sync, before the audience to show that their plan had succeeded, ending the show in each otherâs embrace in the afterlife.
To signify the official end of the story, the stage lights faded out to allow the company to arrange itself for final bows alongside another passionate swell of Swan Lakeâs theme from the orchestra. You and Antoine remained still until the stage was completely black, unwilling to ruin the intimacy your characters created for the audience. Lovers who couldnât bear to be without one another.
Only when the lights flickered back on, the both of you faced the audience to accept their cheering with gracious smiles, wiping away the bittersweet beauty your characters evoked. The rest of the company quickly filed in around you, mechanically dropping into a curtsy on the same note. The minor characters took turns bowing next, including Wolfgang, the princeâs tutor; the Queen Mother, and the four little swans. In order of prevalence, the main characters swept into bows.
Following Von Rothbart and Prince Siegfried, you took five measured steps in front of the rest of the cast and swept yourself into a deep curtsy. The spotlight burned your skin, the hair pins that kept your headpiece fastened dug into your scalp, and your feet throbbed in your pointe shoes. Sweat rolled down your neck and your lungs felt as if there was fire in them, given how hard your chest heaved, but you were elated, nonetheless. A cheering audience was nothing short of a drug. All of these people were here to see you and your company dance. It was an honor, almost enough for you to ignore the disappointed sting in your heart that Ciel would never see you perform in these roles.
Still, stared into the crowd, beaming. You survived. Only now, another confrontation awaited you. One much more dangerous than a bit of acting.
You never thought you would find yourself cutting off a standing ovation on a closing night of a show. This moment, hearing the appreciation and wonderment you gave to legions of people was supposed to be one of the most euphoric parts of your career. Knowing that the hours of labor, exhaustion, and hunger could culminate into a moment this fulfilling. You had just closed a run of Swan Lake as Londonâs foremost companyâs only principal dancerâby all definitions of the word, you were at your prime as a dancer.
But that didnât matter to you as much, not at this moment. Instead, you righted yourself from your curtsy, blew the faceless audience a kiss, and exited the stage.
You had an investigation to solve, at last. This fitting would be the last step, you were as certain as Odette, though you hoped your ending might be more merciful.
In your haste, you didnât bother to stop by your dressing roomâthere was no need.
Polly would have to make her rounds to collect all Swan Lake costumes, anyway, and by going to her office in this ensemble, you saved her the trouble of looking for one of your corsets. Besides, the last you wanted was Natasha in your dressing room to help you unlace it and there was no reason to waste time walking to the other side of the backstage wing. Especially since there was no possibility of Ciel arriving at the ballet tonight.
Entering Pollyâs office helped settle your jumbled nerves, at least for a moment. The space never changed; the aging woman was extremely particular with where she kept all of her tools and materials. Each one had its own exact space in her workstation, and nothing was ever a centimeter out of place. As always, the costuming directorâs frail shoulders were hunched as she counted silently to herself, measuring a piece of scarlett fabric. She counted to herself, meticulous eyes narrowing before she cut the piece off the rest of the fabric roll with sharp scissors.
âHello, Miss Y/n,â she greeted you warmly. Her back was to you, but she always knew her visitor before she turned. âAre you well?â
Without this woman, there would simply be no ballet. In two weeks, she had five variations of Odette and Odile costumes for you each, all perfectly tailored to your dimensions. You imagined that the woman could give Sebastian a challenge in terms of clothing creation and tailoringâshe was an institution at this ballet. Typically, no one could manage a lie past her.
You couldnât settle on how to respond, the silence causing her to turn, standing from her short seat. Polly was short enough to have you looking down at her, somewhat.
âHow are you?â you tried for a weary smile, knowing it was thin and unconvincing.
âYou look like Natasha, when she was your age,â the woman commented, eying you skeptically. She gestured towards her full-length tri-mirror, and you obeyed, knowing the routine for confirming your wardrobe measurements well. You had to strip from your costume, and Polly took careful measurements of your body, well aware that these corsets had to forcefully enforce a ballerinaâs trained body.
You felt yourself redden, uncomfortable with the comment. Until now, Natasha was all you wanted to be.
âAll lovesick, is all I mean. Donât you think William put her through it too? All men do it,â Polly said sagely, helping you unlace the tight knots Natasha twisted your corset into. âEspecially with beautiful women like you, who havenât lived here very long,â she chided, hanging the corset on a wire hanger for you.
âLovesick?â Your mouth felt dry. Of course you were. You were just as confused about your feelings towards Ciel Phantomhive as you were about your thoughts on the true killer. It mightâve been Natasha. There was a chance, and the thought of such a reality took the air out of your lungs. âI am not,â you tried for another smile, laughing weakly. You always smiled. You always laughed. It was supposed to work.
But with Polly, it didnât. Your weak smile flickered off, unencouraged by the costume director. Of courseâshe worked there longer than Natasha did. 18 years, you once heard. 18 years of handling fittings like these for stars on the rise, stars about to implode. Stars in the process of doing just that, leaving disappointment and heartbreak in their wake. An ache for what could have been. You suspected that without Pollyâs comforting nature, the company would lose ballerinas much more often due to Natashaâs unfailingly brutal honesty.
In response to Pollyâs raised, skeptical eyebrows and set line her mouth fell in, you sighed. Still, her eyes sparkled as if she was amused by something in you. That look made you think of Ciel.
You unfastented your head piece self consciously, âI think it may be Natasha, actually,â you ventured, using one of Cielâs tactics, at the thought of him. âShare an insecurity, it will create a false sense of intimacy, and they might overspeak. People who feel comfortable with you are more likely to make a mistake.â
âI feel concerned about her,â you made a show of admitting, like you were guilty of mentioning her.
Polly also allowed you to undo your pointe shoes, giving you a spare pair of soft socks for your bare feet. They ached, as they always did after performancesâsometimes they throbbed in protest to carrying your weight. At least the clean, soft material was more welcoming than the wood of Pollyâs step riser would have been. You stepped up, only clad in your undergarments, but you didnât mind with Polly.
âI thought she was certainlyâŠspread too thin, but I thought sheâs been quite well lately,â Polly answered ponderously. She wrapped her small measuring tape around your waist, pulling it in to match its perimeter. You tried not to think about what you ate that dayâthere were many more important concerns at stake. Polly knew Natasha better than anyone else, perhaps she knew something you did not. âShe wanted me to keep this between her and myself, but I think that more of us oughta know the good news: she started massage and manipulation therapy for her hip.â
Massage and manipulation therapy? That was a practice where doctors had injured individuals strategically stretch and work their healed limbs after a long injury put them out of use. Only, you didnât know Natashaâs injury was healed enough to qualify her for itâyou were under the impression that the director could hardly stand without her cane, much less withstand massage and manipulation therapy. Her mobility was supposed to be almost entirely extinct.
âWhat use would Natasha have for therapy? I believe she cannot walk or stand without help,â you mused.
âOh, no, dear,â Polly shook her head, writing your waist measurement on a notebook. She put the pad of paper back down before you could catch the number she wrote down. âShe can walk and stand without a cane, and that is all. No running, no dancing, none of that, after what happened. The cane only helps her manage. Now sheâs going three times a week to rebuild strength, she told me.â
âWhat exactly happened? Do you know?â You risked the question, your intuition begging you to press forward. You felt your palms grow sweaty with anticipation. This was what you were missing, you were convinced. One of your biggest uncertainties regarding Cielâs theory was: how could Natasha manage to kill all of these people without being caught on top of mobility challenges? You tried not to seem too desperate to know, scanning over your curious expression in the length mirror. Polly was measuring the widest point of your hips.
âI tell you this as a warning, only. As something to learn from,â Polly insisted, meeting your eyes in the mirror. You gave her a resolute nod, taking an uneasy breath in. Natasha rarely spoke about her injury, its exact name, the incident that caused it. You assumed she considered it to be a weaknessâa failure of hers.
âIt was a complex hip labral tear. From over practicing,â Polly told you, noting down your measurement. She continued to repeat the process for the rest of your body. âShe was the principal dancer in Sleeping Beauty, recently married to Will. Here all night, all day, few breaks. She was scared, I think, to lose the life she found,â she recalled, painting a fond picture of a dancer not unlike you. Hungry for her spotlight. A moment of appreciation. Wanting to love and be loved by everyone and more.
âBut she wouldnât hear anything about stoppingâeven after the doctors told her to take the rest of the Sleeping Beauty season on break. She refused,â Polly said, shaking her head. âAnd then, she tore her hip, ruining her range of motion. They told her if she tried to do anything more than walk, the damage could leave her in a wheelchair.â
A wheelchair. Your blood ran cold, chastened. Natasha was less than five years older than you; not even 30 years old yet. Technically, she would have had half a dozen more years as a ballerina, if she had been more careful.
Still, Natashaâs injury came in her prime. You couldnât imagine the pain of being in the midst of your breakout role, only to have to stop for an unknown period of time. The thought of having to willingly surrender the euphoria of curtsying to a cheering crowd made your chest hurt. Natasha probably felt as if her life was ending. Dancing was the only part of your life that kept you alive, at least.
âBut now, I suppose, sheâs rested long enough to start getting help again. And as long as itâs helping her, I donât mind holding down the costuming fort, so to speak,â Polly chuckled, wrapping her measuring tape around your shoulders. She always liked to ramble when she worked, and you didnât expect it to work in your favor. You couldnât believe you didnât think to speak with Polly sooner.
âAnd she has three appointments in a week?â You asked, swallowing in spite of your dry mouth and throat. You thought of the calendar you saw at the Yardâs headquarters with Sebastian and Ciel. Where you noticed a pattern. The very pattern that you and Ciel had believed to implicate William.
Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. All days where the full cast and crew were at the most occupied with full-Nutcracker rehearsals. These were supposed to be nights where Natasha stayed at the Opera House late to handle costume construction with Polly, influencing every step from the sketches to the final clothing ensemble. Nothing went on The Royal Opera Houseâs stage without her approval, making her take the time to stay late so frequently.
Unless she wasnât truly with Polly. William would otherwise have no way of knowing where his wife was if she wasnât at homeâhe wouldnât care to verify where she was, so long as he was confident she wouldnât be looking for him. The only person in the Opera House after hours was Polly, making only her word Natashaâs alibi.
âYes! He seems like a smart man, Doctor Wallace. She started seeing him in August,â Polly answered, blissfully unaware.
Unless she was truly pursuing physical therapyâ which you doubted this timing â she successfully convinced Polly to maintain this lie for her. Telling the whole company that Natasha was assisting her these nights when she was either on a futile mission to restore her leg or killing her employees.
âSo she has not stayed late with you since August?â You could have sworn your heart stopped, in that moment.
âShe usually stops in one night a week, at some point. But otherwise, itâs just me. And thatâs alright with me, dear, I promise,â Polly misinterpreted your indignation as frustration on her behalf. âMore hours is more pay,â she gave you another laugh and wrote down another measurement, blind to your distress.
You felt Natashaâs lies crash down upon another like a house of cards. You gasped, feeling your heartbeat raise in alarm. The world seemed to stall for a moment, hesitating alongside you as your chest tightened with just as much rage as it did surprise. You couldâve sworn your reflection in the three-way mirror was shades lighter in panic.
âPolly, I need to leave,â you said urgently. Still in your undergarments, you pulled a robe off of a hook in the wall, tying it around your waist as you walked. You ignored the costuming directorâs protests, her asking if everything was alright. You couldnât falsely assure her. Not when you felt the sky falling down.
âI have something I need to do now. We can finish another time,â you could hardly recognize your serious tone, it was non-negotiable and about the angriest youâve heard yourself. Tears brimmed your eyes.
You had to finish this. You couldnât leave her office without finishing this. No one else was going to die in the hands of this woman.
In fact, you hadnât thought through your destination until you found your knuckles rapping intently against Natashaâs office door, only several doors down from Pollyâs. Technically, the space was Williamâs office, but he rarely used the space, causing Natasha to commandeer it for her own purposes. You were pleased she didâit wasnât close to your dressing room, making the private space even more of an oasis free from criticism.
âNatasha! I need you. This is Y/n,â you said, knowing the director was there. She never remained in the foyer long. After she finalized patronsâ payment and ensured that each one was satisfied, she retreated into her office to analyze that performanceâs sales revenue. She would stay until she finished adding those numbers to the opera houseâs monthly financial records.
âYou canââ she started from the other side of the door, but you were wiping your eyes, twisting the knob, and entering before she finished giving you permission. Startled, the director regarded you with irritation hardening her angular features. âCome in⊠You know to knock, please,â she reminded you, intentionally finishing the statement you interrupted. âNow what might I do for you?â
Being face to face with Natasha made the encounter feel all the more petrified. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was almost as if you forgot how to put your incensed words into English. You had so many accusations, so many questions to aim at the woman, you couldnât decide where to start.
âI only⊠wanted to thank you. Again. For this opportunity,â you said, starting off the safest way you could think of, yet probe her as subtly as you could dare. âI would not be at this point in my career without you.â
Natasha tilted her head, setting her fountain pen down on her desk. You watched her wrestle with her response: acknowledging your gratitude, subtly poisoning your confidence regarding your career, wanting to gauge if you were investigating her, despite your efforts before the show. Of course. She had to be careful around Ciel Phantomhiveâs partner.
âY/n, you have to remember that you find yourself opportunities. Life is not kind to those who wait for opportunity. That is especially important for you to remember with Lord Phantomhive at your side, now. Never allow yourself to rely on anyone,â Natasha said, fulfilling your prediction and criticizing you. How did it take you so long to notice this pattern in your director?
âThese rich men...they are never forever,â she snorted bitterly, taking an uncharacteristic drink out of a wine glass. You never saw Natasha drink. âThey use you. And lie,â she continued, hesitating before fixing her posture and rising from her office chair. Natasha picked up her cane and used it to help support her as she walked to her cabinet and picked an open bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
âThough we should commemorate the end of this season,â Natasha told you with a new degree of stiff friendliness in her voice. She poured some of the dark wine into a clean wineglass for you, offering the drink to you. âYou worked hard to make yourself worthy of Odette and Odile. On top of this drama that Phantomhive dragged you into,â she said his name like a curse.
âI appreciate that, Natasha,â You accepted the glass, but you didnât take a drink, wary of the wineâs contents. âI did work tirelessly, andââ
âAnd you do handle the scrutiny well,â your director continued, interrupting you. âBetter than I ever did.â She only could have been referencing the disdain she faced for marrying William Wood, though he wasnât a noble like Ciel, he was from an incredibly wealthy family. You doubted British elite society would ever treat a foreign ballerina kindly, much less five years ago.
You were silent, unsure of what to say. In just minutes, Natasha managed to gain control of the conversation, grabbling the upperhand from you. It was effortless for her. The woman was the very picture of composure. You couldnât help but wonder if she considered herself to be the perfect heroine from her own description.
Was Natasha manipulating you now, too?
âI try my best to ignore them. They do not and will never know me, so I should not concern myself over what they believe,â you replied noncommittally, forcing yourself not to break eye contact with your director. The air was tense. You felt as if she could see straight through you, and right into the real reason you were there.
Natasha hummed begrudgingly, âit is big of you to know that, and so young. Not too long ago, I would have done anything to live your life.â Her smile unsettled you, and at this point, you trusted yourself more than you did her.
âWhy donât we toast?â the director asked, picking up her glass in one hand and again, using her cane to help her walk to you. âTo your career. Your partner. Your success.â
âFine,â you agreed hesitantly, tapping your wineglass against hers. You watched Natsha take a short sip of wine, but you couldnât force yourself to do the same. There was no way for you to know it was safe.
Naturally, Natasha had been monitoring your hesitation, her smileâwhich started out thin enough for you to feel suspiciousâwavered. âIs there something wrong?â
Your eyes darted to the office door behind you. Suddenly, you deeply regretted your impulsivity. You might have been out of your depth, confronting her without a plan or any support. This was what Ciel had feared when you were arguing with him about your plan to trap William: a situation where you were in danger with no easy way out.
âNo! No, of course not,â you said unconvincingly, painfully aware of the symptoms of a long day beginning to encroach on you, as well. Your feet still throbbed, despite being in Pollyâs soft socks, made specifically for aching feet. Your eyelids were heavy which was no surprise, since you hadnât had proper sleep in days. Especially not last nightâ how could you have slept after Maisie? âI simplyâŠdo not feel much like drinking.â
âYou? Not wanting a drink?â Natasha replied incredulously. âCome on. Have a toast with me. Why are you being so uptight with me, now? You do trust me, donât you? I am your director,â Her long nails tapped on her glass, her face molding into hurt.
It was one sip. What was one sip? The wine bottle was already openâit seemed to be the only open selection in the cabinet. How would she only poison yours?
You paused, realization dawning on you. She was manipulating you.
You wondered if Natasha guided you into that line of thinking as she so often did, pointing out when a corset appeared tight on you to motivate you to eat less, asking you when the last time you considered cutting your hair was to inspire you to cut it. Telling you to enjoy Ciel as a subscriber as if sex work was your choice. All you ever wanted to do was dance.
âAre you the one killing us, Natasha?â The question slipped out between your lips before you could stop it. Tears welled in your eyes, and you couldnât keep the tremor out of your voice. You stared down at the wine in your hand, a tear streamed down your cheek and made a ripple in the blood-red liquor. Your face felt hot.
âWhat are you asking me?â Natashaâs questioning laugh was hollow. She finished off her drink and left the empty glass on the desk. She was being clear: this was your last opportunity to drop the question.
âDid you kill the missing ballerinas? I mean theyâre dying in other companies too, but m-mostlyâŠthis one,â forming words felt impossible. You didnât know how you were controlling your tone so well.
She laughed again, tones of disbelief making the sound sound rough and condescending. Her eyes were ablaze with rage and disbelief. âAfter everything Iâve done for you, you accuse me of murder?â Her knuckles were white, fingers tight around both the cane and the glass in her hand. âI have half a mind to kick you out of my company right now for this insult!â
This was the only way, you braced yourself. You thought of the victims you were avenging, not of the danger that stood in front of you. And if you died, you were fairly certain Natasha had no way to evade the consequences. There was a backstage full of company members. You trapped her.
Still, you need to commit to guiding her rage. Natasha was too logical for a mistake. Her emotions needed to overtake her.
âIâm not sure why I just asked that, Iâm so sorry,â you lied, âwe can just forget about this,â you suggested, backing up towards the door. Your hand reached from behind you to blindly search for the doorknob, only for Natasha to put all of her effort in swinging her cane in the slim space between your fingertips and the doorknob.
You scrambled away from the swingâand from the doorknob, unfortunately. In your fumbling, you dropped your wineglass on the floor. The glass shattered on the floor, its contents spilling in a burgundy pool around the fragments. Only in socks, you stumbled on the spilled liquid, making it easy for the director to usher you away from the door. You struggled to stand back up, feeling the full impacts of your performance and the miserable way you treated your body, compiling and attacking you with just as much vengeance as your director did.
You were decently certain that all you had to eat that day was a quick slice of quiche and some fruit. That fuel ran out well before your performanceâs intermission and was nothing but a distant memory to your body, now.
âNo,â Natashaâs face was devoid of all kindness. In looking into her cold eyes, you had no doubt that she was a murderer. Not anymore. âYou asked for honesty. How is this for honest?â She locked the door, continuing to back you further into the wall by the cabinet she took the wine out of, driving you away from the exit and further into the office. Silent tears fell down your face, but you refused to let her see you sob.
âI liked you, Y/n. I thought we were kindred spirits in a world of weak, spineless, nobodies, who want to try to become dancers when they cannot even stand up straight,â Natasha snapped. She didnât bother using her cane to walk, merely holding it like a weapon. But she cast it aside once she had you against the wallânot unlike the submissive position her husband forced you into in your own dressing room.
You were approximately the same heightâif anything, Natasha had a centimeter or two on you. She still had a bad leg, even though she could clearly walk, but clearly, she had a deep wealth of lethal knowledge.
âI never would have thought you would be one of them,â she continued, casting her cane aside for a pocket knife that she fished out of her skirts. You were strangely calm, despite the panicked, rapid pace your breath came and the hot tears that still spilled down your face. âBut if itâs you or me, I will always choose me.â
That wine had to be poisoned. You thanked your instincts.
âYou have made that outstandingly clear, Natasha,â you retorted. âYou even managed to put yourself before your own interests by screwing yourself out of a career!â you yelled back at her, channeling your rage. Every time she snapped at you, each time she disparaged your dancing, the way your body looked, each time she prepared you for a new patron. âAnd now whatâs left of you is nothing but a bitter woman past her prime. And that is your fault. But y-you take out your f-failure on us!â
âAnd you? Youâre an ungrateful bitch,â Natasha hissed back at you, sliding a thin pocket knife against your throat, causing you to cry out. So close to her, you could smell the wine on her breath and her eyes looked bloodshot. Her pupils were dilated.
You needed to find help. Soon, if you wanted to live. Continuing to taunt Natasha in her office would surely end in your death. While such a sacrifice would surely be enough to convict her, you hoped to see it through. You, in your own way, were the perfect heroine. You knew there was a sacrifice to be made, but if you could help it, you hoped to live.
Swan Lake was only a story, after all.
âAnd you plan to try to kill me in here?â you asked, gasping as she pressed the blade deeper into your skin. You could feel the painful sting across your nerves, down to your fingertips and as pressure against your windpipe. âH-How will you⊠get away with it?â
âShut up,â Natasha laughed again, catching on to your efforts to disregulate her. Painfully smart, she was.
You tried to speak again, but Natasha pressed the blade harder to discourage you. You were at a loss, having allowed yourself to get here by storming in with no plan. Fueled by nothing besides rage, betrayal, and regret.
She looked pleased, content with the way she had managed to turn your attack on her into your demise.
Until there was a knock at the door.
âMrs. Wood? Is Y/n in there with you? I have been looking for herâ I must escort her home.â
You would know that voice anywhere, anytime. No matter what. It made goosebumps erupt on your arms. Ciel had come to the opera house in search of you, despite your best efforts to push him away. Despite your best efforts to convince yourself that he was lying and he didnât care for you, or anyone, save for himself. The accusation felt shallow, now that a real narcissist had you at knifepoint.
âCiâ!â You started, only for Natasha to shove her hand against your mouth before, forcing her to let go of the collar of Pollyâs robe, which she had balled in her first to keep your neck close to her weapon. You had both of your hands to fight her knife hand, trying to pry the small weapon out of her thinâfrustratingly strongâfingers. Your arms shook with effort.
âNo, Lord Phantomhive, she is not here!â Natasha called over her shoulder, allowing you to use one of your hands to push her face further away, hoping her body would follow her head. You had no combat experience, limited to knowing choreographed fighting on stage. âWhy do you have to make everything so difficult?â She mumbled in your ear, hardly having stumbled from your efforts.
The doorknob rattled as Ciel likely realized it was locked.
You had to get her off of you. Well aware that your arms were locked in a stalemate with her knife, you brought your knee up and dug it into her stomach, causing her to curse, holding her stomach in surprise. You used her surprise to push her away and take steps towards the door as quickly as you could manage, only for Natasha to catch your wrist and pull you back.
âCiel, please!â A sob that had been building in your chest ripped out of you as Natasha pushed you back into the wall, only this time, you were poised on the wall next to the door.
âY/n!â It sounded like Ciel kicked the door. âOn behalf of Her Majesty, let me in there this instant, Natasha!â
âGet him to leave, or I will kill you. Here,â Natasha whispered, taking hold of your chin to force you to look into her eyes. This was the face that 11 ballerinas saw before they died. Natashaâs bloody hatred of you looked just like Williamâs, irate and predatory. You had no doubt that the woman would kill you.
âY/n, do what you must to get her off of you! You can handle her!â You heard Ciel call to you, now that he was decently sure that you were with Natashaâagainst your will. âI need to break this door open. I donât care if itâs your bloody directorâs officeââ
âWhy are you doing this to us, Natasha?â You whimpered, repeating the question when she refused to answer. You felt blood bleed down your neck where she pressed the blade, but you couldnât stop asking. You deserved to know. It didnât feel as if she was pressing hard enough to kill youâyou suspected she wanted leverage over Ciel.
âWhy are you hurting us?â you demanded. âWhy, why, why?â
âBecause I should still be the prima ballerina of this company! Like the rest of you ungrateful whores! My husband should want me in the way he wants the lot of you! I should have my applause! My life back! Give it back!â Natasha yelled, slamming your back against the wall by your shoulder. Black spots danced in your eyes, from your exhaustion. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
âI want my life back! You donât deserve my life! Iâm brilliant. Bloody brilliant. The lot of youâyouâre nothing, but me? Me? I am a real ballerina. You all are nothing, useless little rodents you all are! In spite of my best efforts to teach, you all can never just learn!â tears raced down Natashaâs face, as well.
Her words, her tears, ignited a fresh anger in you. You worked most hours out of the day for this womanâs approval, only for her to feel this much contemptâno, resentment, towards you. She tore you down at every step, masquerading it as support. And blamed you for her vitriol. From an injury she brought upon herself.
âI took nothing from you,â you rasped, ânone of us ever did. We all worshiped you. And you kill us for it. You. Are. Deranged.â you said strongly, in spite of your pain. You used the rest of your strength to curl your hand into a fist and push it forward, aiming for her nose to stun her. Ciel, for emergencyâs sake, took the time to show you how to throw a proper punch. You made certain your thumb was untucked andâŠ.
Immediately, your hand erupted in pain, starting in your knuckles and expanding outward. You felt her face yielding to the force more vividly than you thought you ever could, the sound making a dull thud. Clearly, however, Natasha was in more pain, the shock causing her to drop her knife.
Natasha swore in, presumably Russian, and doubled over. She held her face, recoiling with pain. You caught blood dripping down her lips, coming from her nose. Her face immediately swelled.
Before she could recover, you unlocked the door, revealing a panicked Ciel. He seemed to be bracing himself to kick it down, his left leg braced into the ground while he was aiming to drive his right heel into the bit of wood next to the lock. Of course, he knew how to kick a door down. You couldnât keep yourself from laughing at how absurdly good the Earl was at everything.
You felt delirious, looking at Ciel with your director behind you, bleeding. Because you punched her. Because she was the serial killer you had been looking for all this time. The seriousness on Cielâs face made your smile crumple, re-recognizing the importance of what had just occurred. You hadnât stopped crying at all, your face was soaked with tears as much as it was with sweat.
There was some of your own blood smeared on your chin and cheeks from Natashaâs handsâyou could smell the iron, you could see Cielâs gaze investigating the stains to ensure they werenât open wounds. He had already sized up the cut on your throat the moment he righted himself and pulled you into him, away from the director.
Immediately, you were safe in Cielâs warmth, shuddering as he put his wool jacket over your shoulders. He was speaking to you, but you could barely bring yourself to register his words. Ready to collapse, your head heavy and gloomy. You hadnât noticed you were shivering, and yet, he did. Ciel let you hide your face in his neck, the height difference between you was always minimal.
Sebastian stepped inside from behind Ciel, a pleasant smile on his face.
âSebastian,â Ciel snapped, knowing the butler was behind him without turning around. He had his stare fixated on Natasha as some company members moved to restrain her, despite her cursing and thrashing. Ciel had made a scene in demanding the door be opened, and Natasha must have been loud enough for onlookers to hear. âTake care of this. I donât want there to be a media scene. Find us in Y/nâs dressing room when youâre finished.â
âYes, my Lord,â Sebastian replied. âVery well done, Miss Y/l/n,â he said, his dark eyes sparkling. He put his hand on his heart and bowed to Ciel, but this was the first instance he bowed to his master with you standing next to him.
You could have been persuaded that you imagined it.
âCielâŠâ you spoke as he guided you away from the rest of the company, the arriving officers, and Natasha as she protested her arrest. You felt weak. Almost empty for idolizing a woman who hurt you and so many others. Who thought so little of so many who thought she was the template to success.
Natasha and William hurt you all, and without Ciel, you never would have come to know that. And he had warned you. But you didnât listen, when you needed to.
âThank you for coming here, anyway. I appreciate that you wouldâŠcome. After everything,â you said, the apology was difficult for you to say, but needed. âI cannot know why you would be so kind to me, but you saved my life again.â
Ciel took your arm in his, more than aware that you were exhausted. âWhat do you mean you cannot know why I would be so kind to you?â He asked, an eyebrow raised at you. âI thought I was clear earlier today: I want to be with you. And I should apologize, too, honestly.â
âMutual forgiveness and we can have another talk, later?â you requested, settling into your chair. Ciel locked your dressing room door behind the both of you for privacyâs sake. He pulled out your First Aid kit from under your vanity to start caring for your neck.
âMutual forgiveness,â he agreed, settling down next to you.

#anime fanfiction#black butler fanfic#historical fiction#ciel phantomhive x reader#historical romance#ciel x reader#sebastian michaelis#black butler#black butler x y/n#black butler x you#black butler x reader#black butler ciel#black butler fanfiction#black butler x female reader#kuroshitsuji#ciel phantomhive x y/n#ciel phantomhive x you#ciel phantomhive#straight laced 9
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â§ ( 11. đđđđ) ââ // LINK a single muse google doc.
ââââ đ
đđđđđđđđđđ.
this is a premium single muse google doc that's inspired by kiki's delivery service, japanese postage stamps and old school train tickets. I've used a variety of images from studio ghibli and aimed to create something that feels both whimsical, nostalgic and fun! I would be mindful when editing the pages to ensure that the red borders are properly copy pasted! the easiest way to adjust images is ensuring that you replace them! there's also a good amount of drawing assets in the doc as well. this google doc layout also looks best on desktop! includes: 6 unique custom google doc templates + an additional instruction document that explains the terms of use & further guidelines. disclaimer: âș images do not belong to me and are credited to their rightful owners.
ââââ đđđđđ đđ đđđ.
PERMITTED
customizing the templates, including changing colors, adding or removing elements, replacing images, and more.
mixing and matching pages from other notoriousaesthetic only templates to personalize design.
NOT PERMITTED
removing or obscuring the credit; it must remain intact and visible on all templates.
using the templates in illegal, defamatory, or otherwise harmful projects.
copying, selling, or redistributing the templates, whether in their original form, partially (e.g., individual pages), or remixed (e.g., modified versions).
ââ â§ THANK YOU!
please âž (Â like/reblog)Â â this if you found this useful and intend to use the google doc! for any further questions, please contact me via tumblr or join my discord for additional assistance!
#google docs#rp doc template#rp resource#google doc template#muse template#muse doc#gdocs#gdocs template#rpc#my docs#paid docs
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Hey! Just found that physical fanfic, and got super excited. Planning on printing one of my fav klance fics as well, but I have a question - What did you use to format it?? When I download it straight from ao3 and upload the file, it makes the book extremely large. Iâm talkin 8.5 x 11â, and I really donât want a book that large. Iâm trying to figure it out, as my fic is also from ao3. Any tips would be very much appreciated!!
Hello! Itâs cool that youâre looking into giving this a shot!! Iâm big on collecting physical media, so Iâm always overjoyed when an author gives me the green light to do this with a story <3 I've had a few asks like this so I'll just kinda answer the formatting specific questions here.
Before I get started, this is just a reminder that anyone attempting this should always ask permission before printing any fics/art that isnât yours! A lack of response is not permission - only a âyesâ is permission. Someone else having permission is not you having permission. Always respect your creators by letting them keep control over their work - itâs the least you can do for the people who have freely given you something you love so much!
This is just a bit long and is largely technical, so Iâll leave the answer below the Read More.
Okay. The way I format a fic is through Google Docs, so you'll need to have a basic understanding of how to navigate that application (ex. insert page breaks, alignment, indenting, etc). To keep this from becoming a How to GoogleDocs thing, just know that in my copy all titles and headers are Georgia size 15.5 font and all notes and body text are Veranda size 9.5 font (though I should have probably made it size 9 font as it turned out just a tad larger than I anticipated (**edit: I have since printed another fic at size 9 font and it was perfect size!)). This is not what typical printed books do, but I wanted to keep things as close to reading on AO3 as possible to preserve my experience, therefore indentations and paragraph spacing reflects the website rather than that of a standard book edit. Below shows how that translates into the physical copy. For the sake of consistency with previous asks, I will continue to use The Raven Boys by Maggie Steifvater as the standard book format and there, nestled against his pulse by hiuythn as the printed fanfic so you can compare the two.

And since you asked a specific formatting question, Iâll show a quick step-by-step of how to change page settings to match that of a book below. *Keep in mind, books come in different dimensions, so you can easily change this to other sizes if you want a smaller/larger print.
I donât have a computer, so the following is all done from my iPad. The placement of settings may be a bit different, but all of the settings will still be available on a computer. First, find this menu.
Navigate to âPage setup.â
Choose your âPaper size.â I set mine to â5.5 x 8.5.â
From that same âPage set upâ menu, customize your margins. I set mine to 0.5 on top and bottom and 0.75 on the sides so that the text doesnât get too close to the inner part of the page when printed.
And now youâre ready to roll! Hope this helps!
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11. fam (family tree/oriented google template)
introducing "11. fam", a pastel flower/korean-style aesthetic in-depth google docs oc template for the planning and documenting of information for families within roleplays and creative writing. with many custom drawings such as icons, menus, a customisable family tree and much more, this document includes space for individual family members, collective family history, name meanings, fun facts, heirlooms and more (section names can be changed to fit your needs). this template is also available in four colour options: ivory/white, persona/pink, lilac/purple, and serenity/blue. feel free to edit this as much as you wish as long as you do not remove my credit.
notes/rules
editing and modifications are welcome once you purchase the template.
all drawings and images in this document are custom created (or in the case of the pictures, edited) by me. If you would like to take elements from this document, you will need to credit me as an inspiration or the creator of that element(s).
resizing or moving objects/images can throw off the document, so be careful.
do not remove my watermark/credits!
please like or reblog this post if you use my template! âĄ
how to use
click the source link above
purchase the template via my payhip
follow the instructions on the downloaded note
once you receive access to the template, go to file â make a copy
how to edit
in order to most easily put in your own images, go to replace image then choose how you wish to replace it (either uploading a file or via the image's URL).
this document includes drawings. Double-click the drawing/image on the bottom left or top right corner, then click the edit tab. this will take you to a page where you can replace, edit or delete features of the image
for the custom-edited photos, I've linked a tutorial to how I created them in the zip file you'll receive after the purchase
#google doc#google doc template#google docs template#template#discord rp#family template#family tree#writing resources#creative writing resources#white aesthetic#flower aesthetic#blue aestheitc#pink aesthetic#purple aesthetic#aesthetic#pastel#pastel aesthetic#bun: original#bun: google docs
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â introducing 018: PHEME + [ link ]
a semi-mobile friendly google doc template inspired by newspapers, but with a modern twist! this minimalist template is packed with a punch, featuring bold quotes, a playlist, and significant space for all kinds of information for your muse. this template has no google drawings and is easy to edit. this premium template and a full page-by-page preview can be found in the link above or in the source link.
features:
10 unique 8.5" x 11" pages with multiple short and long sections perfect for short snippets of information or an extra long backstory
plenty of space for miscellaneous information such as quotes, recommended songs to listen to while reading the doc, and even a playlist section
2 PSDs with texture, grain and colour to edit your photos to fit the template's aesthetic easily!
1 PSD of the background texture to edit the colours of should you wish to
all pages that can be easily rearranged, copied and duplicated for more!
terms of use:
you may edit to your heartâs desire. Change the colours, replace, add or remove elements and images etc.
you may remix pages with pages from my other templates.
you may not remove the credit from the templates.
you may not copy, sell or redistribute my templates whether wholesale, in part (i.e. taking out certain pages) or remixed (i.e. modified).
you will also receive an additional guide with images on how to use and edit google doc templates! if you have any problems or issues, feel free to leave an ask or join our discord server.
It's so nerve-wrecking to post a new premium template after a hiatus! I really hope you like it, I'm always grateful for your likes + reblogs. âĄ
#muse template#google docs template#gdocs template#google doc template#google docs#google doc#gdoc#rp resource#character template#roleplay resource#muse doc#muse document#character doc#m#m pr
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003 , BURNT PAGES . . . dark academia themed roleplay template: 3 page, multi-muse, used for roleplay finding. includes information on the mundane, mundane's rules and wants irp, list of muses, and a page that can be extended for roleplay examples. while the doc is mostly mobile-friendly, it does use drawings. if you intend on editing most of the images, you will need a PC. the page is letter (8.5'' x 11'') in portrait format. if you're using, please keep the credit (underlined TEMPLATE) and consider a like and reblog. goes a long way to help creators out! HOW TO USE , to use the template on PC, you'll want to select the 'file' button. from there, you'll find the 'make a copy' button. click it, and then you can name your doc and go from there! to use the template on mobile, open the doc in the docs app and press the '...' button. head over to share and export and select 'make a copy'. from there, you'll be good to go. , this doc uses many tables so i suggest having some knowledge on how they work if you plan on editing anything about the appearance of them. i also recommend keeping them around the same size, but the roleplay sample can be effectively any size. , most of the images are made in google drawings. to edit them, double click the image and go from there! you can replace images in drawings by clicking the image and hitting 'replace'. . . . if you have any questions or issues that arise, please let me know. have fun!
#gdocs#google docs#gdocs template#google docs template#roleplay#rp resources#rp template#writing template#multimuse rp#multimuse template
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WIBTA if I refuse to do anymore work on the group project we already missed the deadline for, but can still submit?
I am extremely tired of being walked over and doing all the work. I'm a 3rd year uni student and multiple times I've been the main person doing group project work. The latest example is what prompted this ask. Our task was to do a discussion and then write an essay based on it, the group consists of 4 people including me. We talked for 10 minutes at the end of last week and a little bit yesterday. We did the majority of the work yesterday as well.
There are 14 points/questions we need to cover. Multiple people not only are advised to, but must cover the same questions so there's substance to be worked with. While the rest of the group covered some, it's insufficient and I did the majority of the work on the first half of the questions and all of the second half. A worked on 4/14 questions (pretty short answers), B also did 4/14 questions (one longer answer, three pretty short answers), C wrote 2.5/14 questions (2 medium length answers, one single sentence answer) and D, me, did 11/14 (mainly long answers with a couple of shorter ones).
After I made a Google Doc to make communication easier, they submitted their answers and basically ghosted me. I asked multiple times for help but was met with silence or jokes about checking the grammar and typos later for me. Again, we don't have enough substances to work with, the essay CANNOT be completed with what we have so far.
And here's where the issues get deeper. I asked for someone to at least look at what I've written down so far multiple times, proofread it if you will. Silence. I know for a fact A and C were FREE and could've continued working on the project, while B might or might not have been at work. Finally C said they'll do it. We were left with less than an hour to wrap it up and submit it before the deadline at this point.
2 minutes after saying that they'll read it, they sent me a "it's great" message. They shameless lied to my face.
I was inside the Doc the whole time and no other users were shown to be viewing the page, let alone reading 3 lengthy paragraphs in 2 minutes.
At some point during the day I was so desperate, I was ready to delete all I've written, comments, intro and first few paragraphs of the essay, everything and beg to join a different group. But a friend managed to calm me down and I didn't go that route.
I can't write to the professor and explain the situation to him, it's just not an option, that's not a practice in my country when the subject only consists of lectures and the professor has to look after 100+ students. My last hope is tomorrow morning those 3 will see the newest messages of me asking for help to finish it and will help me. If that doesn't happen, well...
What I can do is say fuck it and give them the same treatment they've given me â ghost them, don't do additional work on the questions and essay and take all of us down for not finishing and submitting the final project. I don't really want to do it and fuck up our grades (we have no idea how important this homework is for the final grade) but I genuinely see no other way. So WIBTA?
What are these acronyms?
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Translation of GinHiji manga/dj: "Together." by ç€Œć€źă(pixiv) [non-h]
This was requested on Twitter, a heartwarming reincarnation story :") I loved translating it.
CLICK HERE FOR MANGA LINK | Out of courtesy to the artist I'm not reposting their art here, please visit the page, refer to the translation as you read along, and show the artist some love!
I do not mind uncredited text reposts but please DO NOT use my translation to scanlate/edit the manga and post the edits. Keep it text only and link to the source.
Downloadable translation on Google Docs
Translation
[page 1] S: Hijikata-san! H: Oh, glasses. G: Um, have you seen Gin-san?
[page 2] H: Oh, so you're alive. G: Huh!? G: Is it a bad thing that I'm alive? G: Wait. G: Hold on, you're on break? H: Well, yeah. G: Are you here to see me? H: I'm just taking a walk. G: Hmph. I know you're here to see me, though. H: Die, idiot. G: What have you been saying!? Am I not allowed to be alive!?
[page 3] H: Earlier, H: I saw glasses. G: Shinpachi? H: Yeah. H: He was looking for you, y'know. G: âŠ. H: You⊠H: What are you H: thinking of right now? G: What's this all of a sudden? G: Is it because of Shinpachi? S: Gin-san has been acting weird lately. S: This morning, too, he said he's just heading out to buy Jump, but⊠H: Nah. H: Well⊠H: Yeah.
[page 4] H: He was worried about you. H: Hurry up and go home. G: Pfft. That's why you were surprised I'm alive? G: Hijikata-kun, are you an idiot? H: Shut up. G: Hey, wanna listen to me? H: Sure.
[page 5] G: You know, I⊠H: Mm. G: I found myself thinking that I'm happy. H: Mm. G: And then I ended up thinking about whether or not I'm allowed to be this happy. G: And then, somehow G: I suddenly got scared. H: I see. G: If I'm at home, G: there's Kagura, and Sadaharu, G: and during the day there's Shinpachi, too. G: It's fun there even if we're not doing anything. H: Mm.
[page 6] G: I ended up thinking that I don't want to let them go. H: âŠ. G: It's silly, right? G: I've never even thought about what's ahead of me or what my future looks like. G: Someday, they all will go to walk on their own paths and leave my side. G: This won't go on forever. I know that, and I don't have a problem with that. G: I'll tell them that I'm happy they all found something they want to do. G: But then I thought about what I'm going to do by myself when that time comes. G: I closed my eyes G: and tried to picture that now emptier room. G: And thenâŠ
[page 7] G: I can only see you there, Hijikata. G: Hey. G: Will you live together with me?
[page 8] H: Those words made my heart clench. H: Ah. H: I want to protect this person. I want to be by his side. H: That's what I felt.
[page 9] H: Things progressed surprisingly quickly after that. H: Kondou-san cried and was happy for us. H: The kids welcomed us. H: And then, we H: someway somehow, became a family.
[page 10] G: Hey. G: Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death.
[page 11] G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. *taps* H: So that in our next life H: I'll keep you from being alone again.
[page 12] H: Hey, hurry up!
[page 13] H: You're so damn slow, you fucking perm! You want us to leave together, right!? G: Wa-wait a minute, okay! I'm coming now, dammit! H: Your slowness is gonna make me end up being late! G: Sorry, sorry. *step step step* G: Man, Mr. Public Servant Police Officer here sure is strict about time. H: You're the one who's too loose about it! Also, hurry up and find a job already! G: No need. Right now, I'm trying to think about what I truly want in life. It's an important time for me. H: You'll probably go to the Employment Service Center today, anyway. G: I can't say anything to that! H: Hey. H: YouâŠ
[page 14] G: Okay, then. Be careful. H: What are you thinking about right now? H: Yeah. You too. H: What do you see? G: I'm gonna make dinner and wait for you, darling. H: That's freaking gross. H: Are you not afraid anymore? H: Right now, H: are you happy? *clack*
[page 15] H: Me? H: Yeah. I'm here with you, H: so I'm happy.
[page 16] The following is an additional story for "Together." that I drew for REOLOG (my doujin collection). *Depiction of death *Post-reincarnation
[page 17] G: I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. G: I don't know who it belongs to.
[page 18] G: G to T⊠G: G is for Gintoki, I guess? G: Then who is T⊠G: I have absolutely no idea.
[page 19] G: My mom said G: I seem to have picked it up out of nowhere when I was a baby. G: Even when they took it away out of fear of me accidentally swallowing it G: or threw it away because it seemed strange, G: before they knew it, it always returned to the palm of my hands. G: My mom then had the idea of putting that ring around my neck.
[page 20] S: Heey, Gintoki! S: The entrance ceremony is about to start. G: Yeah, I'm coming. G: I have no idea if this ring even has any meaning at all. G: But, G: when I look at it, my heart becomes calmer, yet also excited, yet also painful. It's strange. G: I'm sure there is a meaning. G: I believe that. H: Haha. K: And then, Otae-san was likeâŠ
[page 21] G: Hiji⊠G: âŠkata.
[page 22] *glare* *ba-dump* G: Huh? H: Who the hell are you? G: Oh, sorry. Did I say something? H: Huh? Say something? Nah. You called my name, right? G: N⊠Name?
[page 23] O: Hijikata-san! What are you doing? H: Tch. You damn perm. G: His name is G: Hijikata, huh⊠G: Hijikata? I said his name? I did? G: Why? G: âŠ. G: Hijikata.
[page 24] G: Hijikata. G: Who is that? G: Hijikata. G: Is that someone I know? G: Hijikata. G: Who the hell are you? G: Hey, Hijikata. G: Will you live together with me? G: Who?
[page 25] G: Hey, Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death. G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. H: So that in our next lifeâŠ
[page 26] H: So that in our next life⊠H: I'll keep you from being alone again. *rustle*
[page 27] G: Hijikata⊠G: âŠToshirou. G: Yeah. I remember now. G: I remember now. G: G to T. G: This is G: the ring I gave him.
[page 28] G: In our next life⊠G: We met. G: We met, G: Hijikata.
[page 29] -
[page 30] H: I'll go too, soon. H: Wait for me, okay?
[page 31] H: Yorozuya.
[page 32] -
[page 33] H: I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. H: Who does it belong to? H: What shards are these? H: I have no idea.
[page 34] G: And then, Zura and Sakomoto's like⊠G: Then, Takasugi fell (lol) G: Hilarious, right? H: âŠ. H: Hey, Sakata. G: What is it, Hijikata-kun? H: Which class are you in? G: H (Ecchi) â„ H: Don't say it in such a weird way. H: And this class is? G: A Class. H: Then, let me ask you this. H: Why are you always eating lunch here everyday!? We're not even on the same floor. H: Furthermore, here in front of me!
[page 35] G: That's clearly G: because I want to be next to you, right? G: Just kidding. *GROSSED OUT* *fidgets* G: Hey, come on! Don't look so clearly grossed out like that! H: Stop those jokes already. G: Hahah. It was just a joke. Don't mind it so much. H: Geez. I really don't date guys, okay? H: âŠ.
[page 36] H: ? G: I know, I know. G: Hahah. H: Sakata Gintoki⊠H: The first time I met him was on the day of our high school entrance ceremony. G: Hiji⊠G: âŠkata.
[page 37] H: Who the hell are you? G: Oh, sorry. H: A guy with lazy eyes that resemble those of a dead fish. H: Rarely-seen silver hair. G: Did I say something? H: It should've been the first time we met, but it didn't feel like the first. H: You damn perm. H: After that day, H: For some reason, Sakata took a liking to me and popped up in my classroom whenever he had the time. O: Oh, it's Danna. K: Ooh, Gintoki, you're here. G: Don't interrupt us. Get the hell away, Gorilla. H: Kondou-san is not a gorilla!
[page 38] H: The guy is suspicious, H: but I don't think of it as strange and end up hating it. H: In fact, that smile H: perhaps even feels familiar to me. *ba-dump* G: Hm? What's wrong? H: Oh, nothing. H: I never knew you wear that thing.
[page 39] G: Oh, this? G: You're curious about it? H: Nah, not really. G: Don't worry. I don't have a girlfriend or anything. H: L-Like anyone even asked about that! G: Come on, just hear me out. G: This is something I've been keeping safe for as long as I can remember. G: I've been holding on to it without even knowing who it belongs to or why I can't let go of it. H: Without knowing⊠H: All this time? G: Yeah. G: All this time. H: For as long as you can remember? G: Yeah. G: As long as I can remember.
[page 40] H: I was shocked. H: His story is exactly the same as mine. H: The ring in that bottle⊠H: And his ring⊠*thump* H: What is happening? H: There's a strange pain in my chest. *ruffles*
[page 41] G: Take your time. H: âŠ. G: I'll wait.
[page 42] H: T to G. H: Does it mean from Toshirou to Gintoki�
[page 43] H: That can't be the case. H: The first time I met him was on the day of our entrance ceremony. H: I don't think I've met him before that. H: But⊠is that true? G: I'll wait. H: Could it be that I've just forgotten? H: I want to remember. H: I feel like I have to remember. H: If there really is something to remember. H: Or do I just want that to be the case? H: I don't know. H: On his ring⊠H: Are there somebody's initials carved on it?
[page 44] H: Sakata. H: Sakata Gintoki. H: Who are you? H: Sakata Gintoki. H: Really? H: Sakata Gintoki. H: I called his name like that?
[page 45] G: Hey, Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, G: what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death. G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. *taps* H: So that in our next lifeâŠ
[page 46] H: So that in our next life⊠H: I'll keep you from being alone again. *shock...*
[page 47] H: Right. H: I know him. H: I know Sakata Gintoki. H: Something as important as this⊠H: How could I forget⊠*grip* G: Hijikata-kun. H: Tch. H: Damn itâŠ! *runs*
[page 48] H: Haa⊠H: Haa⊠*ring* *ring* H: Hey, where the hell are you? H: What? H: Heading back home from work? Where!? H: Whatever, just tell me! H: Huh? H: Near the park? Then right now I'm⊠G: Hijikata!
[page 49] G: Hey, what's up? H: Sakata⊠H: Gintoki. G: Hijikata? What's wrong? H: Sorry. G: Hm? H: I said I'll keep you from being alone, but⊠H: Sorry. G: ⊠H: You've been in front of me all this time, but H: I didn't realize. I'm sorry. H: I've never even called your name properly. H: I'm really sorry,
[page 50] H: Yorozuya.
[page 51] G: Hijikata, you⊠H: Hey, Yorozuya⊠H: Can you put it on me, too? G: âŠ
[page 52] H: Hah. H: It fits me perfectly. I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. I don't know who it belongs to. ButâŠ
[page 53] G: We finally meet, Hijikata. G: Don't cry. H: I'm just sorry for making you wait. H: Also, I'm not crying. G: You're totally crying. H: I'm not crying.
[page 54] Those faraway memories, bond, love. The miracle of being able to meet again.
[page 55] I won't let you be alone. I'll be by your side. To make you happy. To become happy. From now on, too, always.
[page 56] Together.
#gintama#gintama translations#sakata gintoki#hijikata toushirou#ginhiji#gintoki x hijikata#hijigin#*wipes tear*#also if anyone has requests i'm always welcome#ghg translations
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