#it was in fact higher yesterday than the first day

[just-some-guy-joust]

we didn't get much of any submissions yesterday compared to the other days, i can't tell if yesterday was just slow or if we're already reaching the point where i should consider closing them early 🤔

[ckret2]

At some point, the Axolotl must've witnessed the aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre.

As you can see, Bill is very happy and definitely not at all traumatized and doing great and look at all these followers he's found who are definitely alive.

Here, have a fic about the Axolotl, the birth of the Nightmare Realm, and Bill trying so so hard to convince himself that he's the hero.

####

To the mortals he swam past, with their different calendars and their different ways of perceiving time, the great Axolotl's migration through space and between dimensions was an event of great note: his passing marked eclipses, tsunamis, festivals, omens, meteor showers; his migration was studied by astronomers and his position was marked in astrological birth charts.

To the Axolotl, he was on his daily commute home. He could take an interdimensional portal, but swimming was better for the environment and he could use the exercise.

He passed by the same two dimensional wall every day. It was covered with many little worlds, and so many of them populated with little mortals, and he'd never paid any particular attention to the wall—until yesterday. A bold little triangle had shouted at him as he passed. It had been an amusing conversation—first contact was always fun—but he'd been busy and couldn't talk more than a moment, just long enough for the Axolotl to be charmed that a lower-dimensional creature had yelled at him and for the triangle to be shocked that a higher-dimensional creature had answered. The triangle had told him that, to his two-dimensional people, these shadows on the wall, the Axolotl was an eclipse: they marked the time by the shadow he cast on their flat world during his commute.

He hadn't even learned the triangle's real name. The triangle had refused to tell him, instead introducing himself as the "Magister Mentium." Teacher of minds? Maybe it was a job title.

Between the nightmare of a case the Axolotl was currently handling and the fact that he'd had to stay late working, he'd nearly forgotten about yesterday's fascinating little meeting until he was leaving on his nightly commute. He didn't know how long the tiny shapes' life cycles were; he hoped the little triangle was still alive today. If not, maybe he'd left behind descendants.

But when he came up to the wall, it was gone.

The vacuum reeked of burning hydrogen.

The Axolotl stopped, puzzled. The wall wasn't empty, wasn't damaged, wasn't going through heat death—the entire thing was missing. No rubble. Surely it hadn't been demolished for some new construction? It had been in good condition. It was a fairly new plane of reality, likely under fifty billion years old. And it had admittedly been a few eons since the Axolotl had studied dimension use & zoning law, but last he checked it was unlawful to demolish a populated dimension without transplanting the growths first—which took much longer than a day. So what could possibly have done this? And what he saw behind the wall...

Something was very wrong. He started moving again, faster, looking for someone who could tell him what was happening. He kept the ragged rip in reality left by the missing wall in his peripheral vision. Stars and stardust slowly fell in, sucked through the tear. The wall must have come down by accident.

Nobody would have knowingly left behind such a large hole to Dimension Zero.

Assuming he was looking at Dimension Zero; he wasn't sure he was. Beneath all other dimensions was supposed to be a void, an empty in-between space. The zeroth "dimension" was simply reality's center point, the not-dimension between all dimensions; it wasn't a place. But with the two dimensional wall gone, he didn't see reality bending in toward a point like he should. He saw a roiling, nauseating mass of blinding colors, thrashing around each other like a frightened pile of injured worms.

Far in the distance, a full reality away, he saw a faint line of blue light.

It was several minutes before he began to run into other people. He passed a crew of cosmic firefighters and their ships, spread out over a span of space wider than an asteroid belt. The fact that they didn't appear to currently be fighting any fires was more disconcerting than a full blaze would have been. An eerie tension hung thick over the scene like invisible smoke. As the Axolotl swam by a couple of firefighters, he overheard them saying, "... orders of magnitude higher than anything we've been trained to handle. An entire reality catching fire is one thing, but the concept of realitycatching fire...?"

"And the speed it's moving..."

"Excuse me," the Axolotl said, trying to keep the edge of fear out of his voice. (Why was he so afraid? He was barely acquaintances with one resident on the wall.) "Can you tell me what happened to the wall? It was just here yesterday."

Rather than explain, one of them pointed in the direction he'd been going. "Sorry, we don't know any more than you do. Look for the storm. You can't miss it."

The other asked, "Are you one of the guys with the apoc cops?"

His fear leaped higher. The "apoc cops" were members of the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force. "No. Sorry, I have to go." He swam onward toward the blue line of light.

The stench of burning hydrogen grew stronger. He smelled something else acrid underneath.

####

To his slight relief, the "storm" wasn't the disaster that had brought down this wall. Rather, it was a person: a lightly raining storm cloud with a gray rain-soaked fedora perched on top, hovering in space.

It was talking to a hapless-looking furred serpent twice the Axolotl's length with four mismatched limbs: she clutched a can of spray paint in her claws, and was so nervous he could hear the marble in the can rattling. A disembodied sunbeam pierced the eye of the storm cloud to shine in the serpent's face as she spoke, and a tornado swirled beneath its cloud, carrying all its personal effects—including a tumbling badge from the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force, its logo of a mushroom cloud struck out with the "no" symbol still visible through a thin glaze of sleet. A chill ran through the Axolotl at the sight of that badge.

The cloud wasn't the only one with the apoc cops on the scene. There were several other investigators nearby, taking readings where the wall used to be. The Axolotl didn't like just how many were buzzing around. They seemed far too busy for far too empty a space, and they steered far too clear of the thrashing, multicolored miasma covering the emptiness that should contain Dimension Zero.

There were several stars in the area that the investigators had to work around. Between the crowds and the missing wall, it took the Axolotl a moment to realize where they were: this was the spot he'd met the triangle yesterday. He was sure of it. He recognized the star right next to the missing wall, the one the triangle had told him he eclipsed during his commute. He'd passed it millions of times.

Why had the apoc cops set up here?

The star was slowly falling toward the roiling miasma where Dimension Zero should have been. He nudged it back into place as he passed.

As the Axolotl approached the duo, the serpent was saying, "I told you, I don't know how it caught fire! I was just passing by..." The storm cloud's sunbeam dropped from her face to point skeptically at her spray paint. She hid it behind her back and quickly went on, "I was just passing by, minding my own business and not doing anything illegal, and suddenly the whole wall went up in flames!"

The cloud said, "The whole wall? Simultaneously?"

"The whole thing! I mean... it kind of rolled across the dimension, but—it took less than ten seconds to cover everything I saw!"

"Which direction did the fire travel?"

While the serpent tried to remember, the Axolotl swam up to the storm cloud. "Excuse me, the firefighters said you're in charge of the investigation?"

"Currently," the cloud said, in a tone that suggested it very much wished it wasn't. It looked over the Axolotl, then turned back to the serpent—she flinched when its sunbeam hit her face again—and it asked gruffly, "Is this your lawyer?"

The serpent looked hopeful. "Are you my lawyer?"

"No, I'm not," the Axolotl said, perturbed. Potential defendants aside, nobody ever insinuated he was somebody's lawyer and meant it in a nice way—and he was on the receiving end of such accusations more and more often lately. His reputation was beginning to precede him. "We've never met. I'm trying to find out what happened to this wall. I know a—friend in there. You said something about a fire?"

An active ATTF investigation was in no way the Axolotl's business. But people had a tendency to cooperate with professionals, whether or not their profession had anything to do with the situation at hand. The ATTF agent turned to the Axolotl and said, "You had a friend in there. The wall that used to be here, Dimension 2 Delta, has been completely incinerated."

The Axolotl stared at the cloud, trying to process that. But the whole wall had been there yesterday. Billions of galaxies, each with trillions of stars, each capable of supporting trillions of species—never mind lives. "You can't mean completely. Surely there are some survivors?"

"Not a single one," the cloud said. "Not even gods and ghosts made it out."

"How?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," the storm said. "Right now, the only witness we've found was the person who called in the emergency." A branch of lightning pointed toward the serpent. "And she doesn't know a damn thing." The serpent nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"But that's... How does an entire dimension disappear with only one witness?"

"Very quickly," the storm said. "The apocalypse Origin & Cause investigation can't make heads or tails of the scene—" a gust of wind swept demonstratively toward the other apoc cops taking readings near the missing wall, "but far as we can tell, the damn thing spontaneously combusted—somewhere near here."

The Axolotl stared helplessly between the serpent and the storm. "Dimensions aren't supposed to spontaneously combust," he said, very reasonably and very unnecessarily.

"Tell 2Δ that," the storm said. "Only time a dimension moves that fast is during a Big Bang explosion or a Big Crunch implosion—and 2Δ wasn't undergoing a Big Crunch. No natural one, anyway. In all my eons with ATTF, I've never seen anything like it."

The Axolotl had been around enough eons himself to know that, after a certain point, novelty became very, very scary—because things working like they should shouldn't do anything you'd never seen before. He worriedly searched the roiling chaos exposed by Dimension 2 Delta's collapse for any sign of what had happened.

The chaos simply thrashed. It moved like it was in pain.

"Did that..." the Axolotl gestured vaguely toward the chaotic foam, "have anything to do with the wall's combustion?"

The serpent shrugged. "I didn't see it until after the fire went by."

The storm grunted uncertainly, a low, thunderous grumble. "Heck if we know. It's connected, no doubt about that—but we haven't even figured out what it is yet. All we know is, it shouldn't have been behind the wall."

The Axolotl stared into the roiling colors, looking for anything visible through the thrashing kaleidoscopic colors.  "If you don't know what it is yet—then, how do you know there aren't survivors in there?" The Axolotl couldn't stop seeing that poor, frightened, awed triangle he'd met yesterday. All the people who'd once been in Dimension 2 Delta mattered—of course they did, those billions of trillions of trillions of billions of lives; he wanted any of them to survive—but that triangle was the one he knew, the one he saw in his mind's eye now. The whole dimension was contained inside that triangle. He had to hope. "I'm going to check."

"What—? You're crazy! Don't you know falling into Dimension Zero will destroy you?!"

"I know falling into Dimension Zero destroys you; I don't know what falling into that thing will do." He squared up with the chaos and steeled his nerves. "Besides, I can regenerate. I'm an axolotl."

"But—!"

"Sorry, there isn't time for more questions." He swam into the maelstrom.

####

Dimension Zero was supposed to be a singularity. Like a black hole, but even smaller—a point so dense it broke physics. If you fell in you'd be crushed into that point by the weight of all realities, a point so small it had no volume.

But whatever was behind where the wall had been, it was certainly no point.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he was barraged with a psychic hurricane. Reality frothed and foamed like a flood spilling from a burst dam. Distant baby stars were born and popped like bubbles, and old stars fell in and were gloriously reignited. His every sense was bombarded with infinite sensations—every color and image in this dimension all at once; every song that had ever been played playing in the same instant and the instant extended indefinitely; strobe lights that were both flashing on and flashing off at the exact same moment. Beneath the music was a constant hiss like the background radiation of reality, the static echo of a universe's birth, but much too loud; he could swear it sounded like gibbering, babbling voices, their desperate messages unintelligible. He smelled every scent, including the lingering smell of burning hydrogen that he'd noticed outside; but above and beyond all that, he smelled the stench of burning life.

He knew now, this was Dimension Zero: it was as if all of spacetime had been crushed into a singularity, but then the singularity was bloated up to the size of an entire universe. Dimension Zero was never supposed to be this bloated.

And the most terrifying part: there were people in this bizarre ruin of a dimension. Millions of them. (Just as horrifying: there were only millions of them.) He was sure he must have been hallucinating—here, dreams and reality swirled around each other like a bottle of water and oil shaken until they were forced to mix—but the longer he looked, the more sure he was that the people were a part of reality. They were, perhaps, the most real thing in the entire dimension.

They were all dancing.

They were all dead.

"Heeey, look who's here!" Suddenly, in front of the Axolotl, there he was—as if he'd always been in front of the Axolotl, as if he were always everywhere at once. The ghost of the little triangle he'd seen yesterday, neon incorporeal. "Happy New Year, everybody!" He laughed. "Get it? That—that's a joke, time doesn't pass in the dream realm, so..." The triangle waved off the Axolotl. "Oh, you wouldn't get it. Screw you. Anyway, introductions! I should do that." 

The triangle was extremely inebriated. He was blinking blearily, floating crookedly, moving in odd uncoordinated jerks, his pupil expanding and contracting with no correlation to the light it was taking in. He seemed to flicker across multiple timelines that had been collapsed into one, like a drunk that couldn't walk a straight line: appearing here then there, then multiple places at once, then everywhere; and then became everywhere, and then collapsed again to a single triangular point. The Axolotl had the worrying impression that the triangle hadn't been sober for a long time.

"So! These are my people!" He gestured with a flourish to the dancing corpse puppets. The strobe lights—which, the Axolotl only now realized, didn't actually have a source, but were rather disembodied rays of light emanating from nothing—turned to highlight them from every angle. It was like a cloud of glitter, all these tiny, flat, jewel-tone flecks, emerald and citrine and ruby and sapphire, triangles and squares and pentagons and hexagons. Each with two spindly arms; some with legs and some without; a single dull eye or a slack mouth; some of them cracked and chipped like broken glass, some of them crushed and melted together into multi-corpsed horrors, some of them fraying and peeling apart around the edges like fabric; so much silvery blood dripping and floating around them. Such beautiful, colorful dancing gore. "All my followers and friends! They love me! They couldn't see you last time you flew by, but thanks to me, they sure can now! Say hellooo!"

It took the Axolotl a moment to realize that the triangle's eye was boring into him and the instruction was for him. "Hello," he said weakly. 

"Very nice." The triangle turned without turning to the millions lost inside Dimension Zero, reality shifting around him to put all of the dimension's prisoners in front of his eye. The Axolotl reeled from existential vertigo. "Now check this out!" The triangle gestured at the Axolotl for his people's benefit. "Behold! Your Magister Mentium presents to you: the eclipse! In the horrifying pink flesh! Quite a sight, huh?"

Many of the dancers turned toward him. Some aimed their dull, dead eyes in his direction. He shivered under their chill stares.

Heedless of the Axolotl's horror, the triangle elbowed him. "I didn't peg you for a party crasher, pinky!" (The triangle's touch was so cold.) "But hey, the more the merrier. Welcome to the dream realm, have a drink!"

A 2D cup manifested in front of the Axolotl that, based on its smooth, featureless yellow surface and its glow, appeared to be made from the triangle's own ghostly flesh. It seemed to be filled with watered-down raw existence. He didn't touch the cup. "What's the dream realm?" He couldn't stop staring at the dancers macabre.

"This is!" The triangle stretched out his arms—and stretched them, and stretched them, seeming to embrace all of reality at once. The Axolotl got the terrifying impression he was within the embrace too. "The realm of dreams! My realm! Paradise of color and light! Realm of spirits and muses!"

"It looks more like a nightmare."

"Do I come to your house and insult your wallpaper? Buzz off."

When the triangle dismissively floated away from him, the Axolotl again got the dizzying sensation that he was the one moving. The truth finally dawned on him:

The triangle, somehow, was literally the center of this universe. Point 0,0,0 on the cartesian plane of reality. Whenever he moved, Dimension Zero moved with him. When he backed away from the Axolotl, Dimension Zero backed with him, rushing past while the Axolotl held still.

And not once during their conversation did any of the millions of dead shapes stop dancing. 

"What are you doing?" the Axolotl asked, voice hushed.

"Partying," the triangle said. "We're having a party."

The Axolotl couldn't tear his eyes from the choreomaniacs' forced revelry. "How long have you been partying?"

"Uhh... pfff... I dunno, hard to keep track. A few months?" The triangle turned toward his tortured people. "Hey! How long have we been partying?"

One of the bodies mixed in amongst the dead, boogying deliriously, faintly cried back, "Time has no meaning and eternity has collapsed into a single unending moment of bliss!" (The Axolotl shuddered at the grotesque ventriloquism act.)

"Oh, yeah, right, forgot I decreed that. Thanks, pal!"

"You're welcome, oh wise and glorious Magister Mentium!"

The triangle turned back to the Axolotl. "An eternity."

The Axolotl tore his horrified eyes away from the dancers. "What about all the others?"

The triangle paused. "I don't know who you're talking about." The background radiation hissed in agitation.

The Axolotl very much suspected he did. "Your other people."

"There aren't any others," the triangle said defensively.

"There were! All of the other shapes around your world! All of the lives on other worlds! Where are all those people?!" He hoped that they might have gotten evacuated to a neighboring wall, or that they'd been concealed somehow, or even that they'd been collapsed together into the shapes he saw before him and could still be separated—

"It's fine," the triangle said stiffly. "Nothing important was lost."

"Nothing important?" the Axolotl repeated, shocked. "This was an entire dimension—!"

"A wall," the triangle said.

"A wall with lives on it—"

"Shadows."

"And do shadows not deserve to live?!"

The triangle flinched at the question as his good cheer crumbled. He didn't answer, but he gave the Axolotl a heavy, hard, emotionless look—a wretched, empty look—and the Axolotl knew he knew they did deserve to live.

"They don't matter," the triangle lied. "Nothing important was lost. Only the true believers and the worthy remain."

"Your dimension had billions of trillions of stars alone. All the people surrounding them—"

"I didn't see any stars!" He said it so vehemently—as though, if he didn't see them, they must not have existed. As though he refused to acknowledge their existence. "I told everyone about the third dimension, I told them we were going, they had their chance to join me!" His voice was shaking. As he spoke he grew larger, until he was as large as the Axolotl—or perhaps the universe had contracted around him. "And if they refused to join the liberation, then they are what we liberated ourselves from!" Distant bolts of lights flashed through Dimension Zero, responding to the triangle's outrage; the nearest stars blazed brighter for him. His dead people screamed in terror. They didn't stop dancing.

"You... tried to leave your dimension before the fire reached them?" Had he tried too late?

The triangle flinched again; his appearance flickered, like a TV that for a moment had picked up a pirate station broadcasting on the same frequency. The whispers hissing beneath the music grew more excited again, but the Axolotl still couldn't make out what they said beneath the party music.

The triangle said, "The... the fire came second."

"What came first?"

But he didn't answer. "Yeah, I brought them here." He spread his arms again, gesturing at the other shapes. "They followed me, and I freed them from our flat, restrictive dimension. They're all fine. And they all love me for saving them."

"Saving them?" he echoed. He wanted to laugh in disbelief, but it felt too much like laughing at a stranger's funeral. Laughing at an open mass grave. "But—everyone here is already dead. Even you." The triangle should be in an afterlife. Whatever afterlives his dimension once had, they were gone now. The Axolotl would have to help the triangle find one in another dimension—the paperwork alone would take time he didn't have to spare; he'd probably have to split off a timeline or two to squeeze it in...

The triangle snapped, "Whoa, hey, hey! Watch who you call dead, buddy! Look at me!" He stretched out his limbs, glowing dazzlingly bright. Brighter than a star. Even the Axolotl had to turn away from the blinding light. "I transcended my body! I'm made of pure energy! This is the most alive I've ever been!" A being of pure energy that had lost its physical form was the very definition of a ghost; but the Axolotl didn't have a chance to argue before the triangle went on, "And does anyone here look dead? Everyone's dancing! We're all having a great time, aren't we?" A few corpses groaned and gurgled in response.

If the triangle wanted to be a wandering ghost, fine. That was his prerogative. But he had no right to force the remains of his followers to deny their death with him. "Look—look at your people," the Axolotl commanded. "You're making them dance! You must know what state they're in!"

Without actually moving, the triangle had somehow become the space in between the Axolotl and his choreomaniacs, forming a sharp shield in between them. "You don't know what you're talking about. They're fine. They're immortal!"

The Axolotl gestured furiously past the triangle. "LOOK AT THEM!"

The triangle's gaze flickered toward them for a split second. The Axolotl saw guilt flashing in his eye; but then he squeezed his eye shut. "No, you look at them. Maybe it took me a little bit to get it right, but they're all great now."

To get it right? The Axolotl peered around the triangle at the shapes again, and only now saw that he was right.

Not all of them were dead.

Some were trapped in ecstatic trances; some were numb with terror; some were already long dead, and yet the corpses weren't being puppeted like he'd assumed—they danced under their own power. There were amalgams of a dozen, a hundred bodies fused together into shambling, gyrating horrors—but there was still life in their horrified eyes and their limbs twitched independently. The ones that were bleeding just kept bleeding and bleeding and bleeding, unending, blood never clotting nor running dry. The corpses and the comatose and the ailing and the bleeding dancing with the living that craved death.

The triangle was responsible for their condition?

He glided between the corpses, sliding his arms around a few of them. They kept dancing.  "I didn't quite get to a few of them in time, so I took the empty space where their souls used to be and filled them with an insatiable hunger to party," he said. "And look, they're good as new! Probably better than they were before, even!"

"These bodies should be laid to rest," the Axolotl said heatedly, "and the rest of you should be dead."

The triangle went still.

The Axolotl remembered, a second too late, that that was a perfectly normal thing to say to deceased clients and other gods in his line of work, but the kind of thing that scared the living daylights out of mortals.

"So that's a threat." His arms slid off the shapes; his fingers were stained with silvery blood that shimmered like static noise.

"No! No. But the condition that you're all in..."

"You'd better check yourself, frills," the triangle snapped. "You crash our party, in our eternal paradise, and start threatening us! Who the hell do you think you are, telling us we should be dead?!"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "A fully licensed psychopomp...?"

"Well you'd better keep your psycho, pompous paws off my people!" The triangle blazed bright red, literally incandescent with rage. Some of his "people" slowly stopped dancing and turned their hollow eyes toward the Axolotl.

And the Axolotl couldn't say why, but he was suddenly sure he was in very grave danger.

He backed up from the triangle, moving in the direction that the edge of Dimension Zero should have been, although he was no longer sure whether it was still behind him. "I... think I should leave."

"I think you'd better."

He turned and fled. He couldn't explain his panic, but he felt in his bones like something was chasing him. He had to spend longer than he wanted searching for the edge of this bizarre reality—the triangle had turned and twisted and moved the borders so many times that he'd completely lost his bearings—spied the nearest exit, and darted for it between two unfinished planes of reality.

He thought he felt flames at his back.

The triangle's voice followed him out: "Next time, poop on somebody else's party!"

He tumbled through the membrane between the overbloated Dimension Zero and the higher dimensions with the relief of a suffocating fish escaping its net to plummet back into the water. He had to take a moment to reorient himself to his surroundings—time passing so that each moment took its turn and ended when it was over, space that felt like space rather than all distances collapsed in on themselves—and looked back at Dimension Zero.

The longer he stared into the kaleidoscopic miasma, the more sure he was that, no matter where he looked, right at the center of his field of view, he could always see a shining yellow fleck of triangular glitter.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I spoke out of emotion. I am glad that you—" well, "survived" wasn't the right word, "—still exist. And it was heroic of you to save as many people as you did. I shouldn't have said they shouldn't be alive; just..."

He felt like he could still see the shapes dancing in the corners of his eyes.

"... Just not alive like that."

####

Who was the triangle?

At their first meeting yesterday, it had been clear to the Axolotl that the triangle could see and perceive things off his wall while the rest of his people could not; he'd identified himself as "Magister Mentium" rather than by name; and he'd been surrounded by shapes, all turned toward him, listening: so perhaps he was a leader of some kind? He must have seen whatever destroyed their dimension coming and been able to use his position to evacuate a few people. The true believers and the worthy, he'd said—maybe his... congregation? Maybe he was a religious leader? At any rate, it was a miracle he'd saved as many people as he had with what must have been very short notice.

But... their forced dance... the bodies fused together... the living-who-should-be-dead bleeding and bleeding and bleeding without end...

The Axolotl didn't want to believe the triangle had any ill will. He reminded himself that he didn't know anything about his people or their culture. These shapes had been through something unimaginably traumatic. They'd watched an entire reality die; many of them were stuck in the process of dying in a place where they couldn't complete it. Any mortal would be insane with grief. Perhaps their magister was just leading them in some sort of cathartic dancing mania; perhaps this was how the shapes processed their grief. He hoped that was what it was. He hadn't gotten a chance to speak to the others—he didn't know how many could speak—but he had seen, for just a moment, how survivor's guilt ate at the triangle.

The storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had said that every single living being from Dimension 2 Delta had been killed. Even the gods and the ghosts. So how had the triangle and his people survived?

And what were they doing here, in the singular heart of all reality?

And what had happened to their world?

####

(Hello, thanks for reading!! If you were lured in by the colorful art I laid out as bait and this is your first time here, welcome!! This is part 1 of a 5-or-6 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna read more and learn the exciting answers to exciting questions like "Bill where in the good goddamn did you find a bunch of half-dead shapes??"

It's ALSO chapter 61 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out here. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: hey y'all remember when we had to skip over chapter 61 because it would've been posted like four days after TBOB came out and it needed MAJOR revisions? Well, here it is!! And also it's currently like six times longer than it was originally. We're gonna be hanging out with the Ax for like a month and a half, buckle up. 

Let me know what y'all think so far!!)

[tender-rosiey]

Hey you lovely human :) Just dropped in to say I bumped into blog like yesterday and since then I ATE (almost) everything Gojo related (still have a couple left), like I genuinely am in LOVE with everything. If you are ever willing to take upon this idea, I was curious about how you see Gojo meeting his significant other and falling in love ? Would love to see the beginning of their relationship and how they ended up together. Thank you and since is already weekend here for me almost - i hope you have a gorgeous weekend!! ^^

creepy eyes — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: AHHH THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY OMG TYYYYY and i am so sorry that i took so long </3 ANYWAY this is how I imagine gojo first meeting his wife cause i believe that it has to be before gojo closed off and that she became a trusted and close friend of his

it’s just another afternoon at jujutsu high, the sun bathing the grounds in a soft glow, casting long shadows as students hurry from class to class.

you’re deep in thought, focused on training, when you suddenly collide with something solid—or rather, someone.

you stumble back a step, blinking up at the towering figure now standing before you. you glance up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of eyes—bright, intense, and painfully blue.

the boy is about to say something, but you beat him.

“my god, your eyes are creepy,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

there’s a beat of stunned silence.

the giant’s mouth drops open slightly, his eyebrows raise in sheer disbelief as if you’ve just insulted the most precious thing in the world to him.

“my eyes?!” he gasps, hand flying dramatically to his chest. “you think my eyes are creepy?”

you nod, grimacing at the loud sound, “yeah, they're unnerving. kind of like staring into a bottomless pit.”

satoru is scandalized. “my eyes are beautiful!” his voice pitches higher, as if stating a fact that should be universally accepted.

he tilts his head closer to you and taking his glasses off, daring you to look again. “take another look! appreciate them!”

you squint, unimpressed, and simply shrug, brushing past him, “I’ll pass.”

that’s the beginning.

days turn into weeks, and the more you try to forget about that initial encounter, the more satoru won’t let you. every time you cross paths, it’s like he has a personal mission to make you take back that one insult.

whether it’s during training, at lunch, or in the hallway, satoru somehow finds a way to bring it up.

“you still don’t think my eyes are nice?” he asks, exaggeratedly crestfallen, peering at you with that playful gleam.

“yeah, still creepy.”

“but why?” he exclaims, leaning against the doorframe or sitting next to you with a theatrical sigh. “do you not see the sparkle? the beauty? the endless charm?”

it becomes such a regular thing that even suguru can’t help but get involved. he appears at satoru’s side, casually rolling his eyes at his friend’s dramatics, though a smirk plays on his lips.

“you’re still on about that?” geto quips. “maybe just accept that she has good taste, satoru.”

“oh, shut up, suguru! she’s just blind to my perfection!” satoru retorts, crossing his arms as he watches you chat away with shoko.

and so it goes. satoru’s relentless teasing—half playful, half desperate—starts weaving into the fabric of your days.

every time you think he’ll finally let it go, he’s right there, flashing that expectant grin as if waiting for you to finally give in.

months pass. the seasons start to shift, but satoru's persistence doesn’t.

he keeps bugging you about it—less often than before, but every once in a while, he'll find an opportunity.

whether it's during class or during a mission, he brings it up with that same confident, teasing smile.

it’s a lazy afternoon when it happens.

you’re outside, lounging against a tree in the sun with a book in hand, trying to relax after a mission when satoru flops down beside you, elbow nudging yours.

his sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he grins at you. “still think they’re creepy?”

you don’t even look up from your book. “yup.”

he leans in, resting his chin on his hand, giving you that pout again. “come on, you’re just being mean at this point.”

you stifle a laugh, flipping a page. “am I?”

satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, “you’re impossible, you know that? these eyes are a national treasure.”

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips this time. it makes satoru blink, clearly caught off guard by the sound.

he tilts his head, eyes narrowing in curiosity as he leans closer to your face. “wait… was that a real laugh? are you finally admitting I’m funny?”

you roll your eyes, looking away from him as you smile. “don’t push your luck.”

he grins widens at the sight of your smile, and he is about to boast of his achievement when you glance at him. with amusement still tugging at your lips, you reach out and push his sunglasses up with a playful tap.

“fine, fine,” you relent, voice teasing as you give him a small grin,“I think your eyes are very pretty.”

for once, satoru’s the one caught off guard.

he blinks rapidly, a flash of surprise flickering across his face as he pulls himself away and tries process your words.

your smile doesn’t falter, but satoru’s eyebrows furrow, before he chirps, standing up, “well—it’s about time you admitted that!”

your eyes widen, as he gets loud and starts ranting about his beauty, “it is only natural that you succumb to my charms! ahaha! my eyes are only one part of it!”

confused but having nothing to say, you lean back against the bark. you don’t mention out loud that his ears are tinted pink, not that satoru would give you the chance to call him out.

but you both know that something has changed.

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do not copy or plagiarize

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[okay-babe]

Mothering

tags: alastor x fem! reader, suggestive themes, allusions to sex, alastor and reader are married, domestic bliss, Husk and Angel are tortured by your love for each other.

It was a rather quiet morning, one that had become almost typical of the hotel in the quickly passing months, and Angel watched as, like usual, the Radio Demon began to walk swiftly from the stairwell to the front doors.

Although, this time, there was a notable interruption to the sinner's routine.

"Al, wait!"

You called in an almost panicked sounding tone, bounding down the stairs in only your night gown, an object that Angel couldn't quite make out in hand.

Immediately, Alastor halted where he stood, his neck turning before the rest of his body to watch as you rushed over to him, cheeks flushed from your run down to the lobby.

The demon raised a brow at you curiously, but with a marked lack of exasperation that must have come from that store of patience he reserved just for you, and you smiled sheepishly as you held up a small shimmering band.

"You forgot this."

You said, tone almost nervous sounding as you continued your approach in spite of the painfully obvious adoration written all over the Radio Demon's face.

Immediately, Alastor looked down toward his left hand in surprise, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of his barren ring finger before he looked back to you and smiled one of those gentle soft things he once again only seemed to reserve for you.

"Ah, why thank you, my dear."

He all but purred, eyes lighting up as you grew ever closer until he could finally offer his hand to you in the way you so clearly desired.

You grinned happily at the gesture and reached forward with the ring in hand as the sinner spoke up again,

"I couldn't fathom going a day without it."

You blushed at that, eyes diverting swiftly for a moment before they moved almost instinctively back to Alastor, watching his pleased expression as you slid his wedding ring back onto his waiting finger.

You stared at him for a few seconds, as if enthralled by the very vision of him in spite of the fact that you quite literally woke up to the man every morning, until finally you snapped yourself out of it with a slightly embarrassed clearing of your throat.

"Well, I'm quite sure you could manage if you had to."

You said softly, voice slightly higher in pitch than usual as your husband bent down, the already raised left side of his mouth curling upward further in an amused smirk at the sight of your pink cheeks and slightly nervous body language.

He'd had this effect on you in life as well, but it seemed he'd never tire of seeing it, even after so very long.

"Manage, certainly, but I'm not sure I would want to without the reminder of my darling wife back home."

He drawled, his now decorated left hand reaching up to palm your cheek and his eyes scanning you with a chuckle as you all but melted into his touch, always so very receptive to his affections whenever he was willing to offer them.

Suddenly though, your eyes widened, and you broke away with a gasp, your gaze shifting down to Alastor's hands only to find them empty.

"Al, did you remember to grab the organs I prepared for Rosie yesterday evening?"

You asked, immediately causing Angel and Husk over by the bar to flinch in response.

Had it been a surprise that the Radio Demon's wife was a little bit too comfortable with cannibalism? Not nearly as surprising as it was that the overlord had a wife in the first place, but still, it certainly hadn't been anticipated that you would be so handy with a boning knife.

The deer demon standing in front of you let out a soft hum of surprise before he shook his head, straightening back out to his full height with one arm crossed over the other.

"Silly me, it appears I'd nearly forgotten."

He replied, tone colored with amusement as you immediately set off toward the kitchen before the man could even finished, returning shortly thereafter with a rather large container of something your observers would rather not think too hard about.

"Well count yourself lucky I felt up to the chase this morning, beau."

You teased as you set the tub down on an end table nearby so you could approach your husband once more, straightening out his tie and fussing over his hair for a few moments as the demon simply stood still beneath your attentions, smile both amused and contented all at once.

You looked up at him after a few moments, eyes softening slightly at the sight of his expression as your hands moved to brush some invisible lint off his chest.

"You know, it isn't like you to be so forgetful, Al."

You began gently, hands working to smooth out a few barely there wrinkles in the demon's shirt.

"I'm beginning to worry that your age is getting to you."

Your tone was far too teasing to ever be misconstrued as serious as you spoke, stepping away slightly to admire your handiwork only to be stopped by a tug at your wrist as Alastor moved to pull you close once more.

"Is that so?"

He purred, tone still just as amused as before as he flipped your teasing back on you tenfold,

"Well then darling, I suppose I'll have to remind you of just how spry I can be upon my return."

His voice lowered slightly as he said this, and instantly your cheeks felt hot and your eyes widened slightly beneath your husband's heavy gaze.

Desperate to change the subject before your (rather unwelcome) background audience caught on or made any commentary, you quickly cleared your throat again before giving a nervous laugh.

"Sure thing old man, whatever you say."

You said halfheartedly, watching as the Radio Demon's eyes grew darker at your unintentional challenge.

And at that, you were quick to switch topics.

"O-oh!"

You began, eyes roving aimlessly for something else to talk about before they finally fell to the unused coat rack in the corner of the room.

"Are you sure you won't be needing a coat, Al? I'd hate for you to catch a cold..."

You said nervously, hands wringing together as your husband watched you with sheer amusement and something slightly heavier behind his eyes, his mouth opening as if to reply only for him to be cut off by a voice from another part of the room.

"Babe, I love ya and all, but this is gettin' ridiculous!"

Angel cried out in exasperation,

"We're in hell, for cryin' out loud! Yer husband is a demon overlord who owns enough souls to be considered a large business owner! He's not gonna get cold out there!"

You gave another nervous laugh in response to Angel's rambling,

"But-"

"Nu uh, no buts Toots, now say goodbye to ol' tall, dark, and creepy before you start actin' like his motha' again."

Angel interrupted, immediately causing you to let out a huff of indignation, turning around to face your friend where he sat at the bar,

"I am NOT acting like his mother."

You insisted, attitude faltering a bit when you noted the rather amused expression that your comrades were wearing, informing you that you were likely making a slight fool of yourself.

"I-I'm not..."

You trailed off quietly, cheeks warm with embarrassment even as you felt a familiar clawed hand drop down upon your shoulder in a manner that was no doubt meant to be soothing.

Though, the next words out of your husband's mouth, in spite of his actions, most certainly were not.

"Not to worry, cher."

He purred, pulling you back against him gently so you could feel the warmth of his chest upon your back and the curl of his smile against your helix, a sensation which immediately caused you to shiver.

"If they wish to see you as a mother, I will happily oblige."

Your blush deepened at that, eyes widening as you desperately tried to ignore the shocked looks of your peers in favor of trying to focus on keeping your head straight instead as Alastor stepped away once more, the casualness of his attitude a stark contrast to his previous words.

"Oh dear, would you look at the time. I really must be going."

He said, a teasing lilt to his voice that was all too easy to hear coming through as he checked his wrist for a watch he wasn't actually wearing before leaning forward to press an exaggerated kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be seeing you later, darling." He drawled with that trademark grin of his as he approached the door, one clawed hand reaching to pull it open before he finally stepped out.

That is, until a few seconds later, when his head popped back in again.

"Oh, and do keep well hydrated, dear heart! I would hate to endure a repeat of the last time you called my spryness into question."

Alastor looked far too pleased with himself as he spoke for you to even bother attempting to rebuke him, and but a moment later he was gone, off to see Rosie with a well adorned ring finger and a large container of organs in hand.

"WHAT DID HE SAY?!"

Angel cried, still clearly stuck on your husband's mothering comment from earlier as you sighed and approached the bar, an apologetic look on your face as you glanced toward Husk.

"Can I just get a water please?"

You muttered sheepishly, immediately causing the bartender to groan and bury his face in his hand, his disappointment in your immense lack of shame obvious, but truly, what else had he expected?

Had he met your husband?

[withonly-sweetheart]

di leon kennedy doing pushups ;) inspired by this (suggestive) art by @bunnivievve because i think artists have too much power. lowkey im typing this out so fast rn im tweaking i have exams tomorrow NOOOOOOOO-

<><><><>

your husband joined the police force. great. awesome. what a wonderful sight, at least it is for all the people watching on the outside. the picture perfect couple; a loving wife and a valiant husband to match.

what they never saw were the late nights up, studying the same textbook about a trillion times over, pretty much memorizing the goddamn contents of it before stumbling into your bed.

his body might be warm but that warmth always abandons you in what seems like a second, the snap of his fingers, because it's become a recurring instance that he's left early to train.

always making good impressions, that man. and you're proud of him, you have to be and you're not ashamed to show it. you've seen his growth, his courage that he displays, the hurt he has to suffer through all to keep the city safe. his city, where you are. his heart.

which is why it comes as a surprised when your husband, a man you've been married to for seven years, comes up to you with a bashful expression, eyes darting left and right, grazing all the corners of the world.

"do you... uhm... think... i'm strong?" you blink, dazed.

"why? what's wrong?"

"well, some of my higher ups had some concerns about... strength. they wanted me to 'strengthen my core'." he chuckles. "whatever that means."

"and you came to me for that," you drone.

"i've seen you do all those exercises around the house!" he protests. "can't you just teach me a few?"

"first of all, those are to help with cramps, and second, no." it seems like he's given up, but you know him well enough to know that that will never be the case.

"aw, c'mon, please?" he murmurs, taking your hand into his, caressing the bottom of your knuckles, rubbing soothing circles into your fingers. "just once?"

so you find yourself relenting to the man who always knows what to say to get you to crack. maybe next time you should be more demanding, hm?

needless to say, it's all made up for when you stretch out into the first pose, a simple sitting position with your legs extended fully, fingertips reaching the tips of your toes.

leon nods, and he gets the sitting part right. but when he tries to copy your movements, he hisses and leans back, groaning with the effort.

"what's wrong, officer kennedy?" you tease. "scared you'll break a hip bone?"

"quiet," he grumbles. "i'm just a little sore from yesterday."

"of course, of course, a very busy day running errands, such as picking up doughnuts, might i add?"

he scowls at you and tries again, and again, but every time he can't seem to cope with the fact your flexibility, even at your maturing age, is better than his, even with all his rigorous training.

"looks like you couldn't do it," you say smugly, smirking directly at him, angling your body to face him. "told you so."

"i think it's my turn now," he says, creeping towards you. and this time he seems to have the prowess of a panther, easily slotting himself into place above you.

"your turn for what?" you ask, somewhat suggestively. he grins.

"how 'bout i show you what i've learned?"

fuck, you'll never doubt him again, will you? his sweet, submissive girl, arching beneath him, one hand pressed on the floor near your head, keeping him supported. the other is clasped behind his back, in an ethereal tilt that has his chest hair hitting all the right angles of the dying sun.

your knee is thrown over his shoulder, and the position should be awkward, you think, yet it feels as natural as anything. he pistons his hips further into you, and he's been mumbling something in your ear since he started.

now that you can hear him better through his rough, sloppy pants, you hear a steady rhythm. "twenty-five... twenty-six..."

he's counting, you realize after your mind-shattering orgasm, whimpering underneath him as he finishes, muscles flexing in a manner you'd never thought to admire until you realize why.

he's counting the pushups, god, that's all he's been doing this whole time. and you'd be damned if you didn't send a silent prayer of thanks back to the academy, where they trained him to do this.

but you're sure this isn't how they expected him to apply it in real life. hey, what can you say? seems like you're finally enjoying your husband's career and all the perks it comes with.

"my pretty wife, going around doing all those stretches, driving me fucking crazy bending over like that," he rambles, lowering himself to shower your face in messy kisses before tilting his head back to the side with a hiss, lifting himself back up.

back up and back down, a slower pace with his upper body while his lower half rails into you, and all you can do is lie there, helpless to what he gives you, craving more yet somehow satiated at the same time.

"yeah, mmm, fuck, just like that-" he breaks off his counting to whisper sweet nothings in your ear for the second time that evening, pushing his spend back in while you grasp for purchase on his biceps, feeling the hardened muscle lurch back towards you as you dig your nails deep into his skin.

"needed that, didn't you?" you whisper breathlessly after he collapses onto the hard wooden floor next to you. his eyes shine with effort and pride, and after a low exhale, he immediately scoops you up.

he carries you back to the bedroom, where he lies you down onto the comforters, making sure you're comfortable before trailing up and down your neck with soft, carefully measured kisses once again.

"w-what're you doing?" you murmur, twitching under the overstimulation. leon's eyes have shifted to a deeper color, a darker lilt to his eyes when he reaches your gaze.

"i can do better than that, sweetheart."

"better?" you ask jokingly, because what could make him better? anything better than that is a menace to society, you decide.

he sighs, shaking his head before cupping your body with his hand again, rubbing your skin in such a doting gesture that you don't expect his next words.

"i said a hundred, sweetheart. i didn't even make it to fifty."

series masterlist

[spideyhexx]

mdni; tw slapping

Smacking Coriolanus Snow's face so hard his jaw breaks sounded like a great idea to you.

Never mind the fact that you were moaning his name so loud just the other day that you're sure someone overheard. Or that he grabbed your face and kissed you in a hidden corner of the hallway just yesterday morning, smearing your lipstick and walking away with the smuggest grin ever.

You hated him.

You hated the way he lit a fire in you, the way he'd always one up you in class and somehow always be right above you in academics. You'd creep up and overtake him for a mere moment before he's pulling ahead with that same smirk that would embed itself into your thighs when he kissed them. He knew how to push your buttons. Coriolanus teased everything about you, the way you dressed, how you said something in class, your grades (even if they were a point lower than his own). He was relentless and all you could do was give it right back to him.

Sometimes, you're able to get the upper hand outside of the academy. Sometimes, Coriolanus would let his guard down, especially if you were in his bed for hours. He would grow tired, more vulnerable and although he hated letting anyone see that side of him and he hated the way you'd look at him, trouble written all over your face; he welcomed it with open arms.

He let you take control and turn him into a whiny mess underneath you. It would be so easy, and the power you held over him in the bedroom would satisfy your own personal need for control over the Snow boy since he so often has power over you. Your relationship was this giant tug of war, a push and pull that felt never-ending. One moment, you're desperate for one another and the next, you think you might actually kill Coriolanus.

There was a caveat for Coriolanus' vulnerable side. But you weren't even really aware of it until you're taking the brunt of it from him in his room later that day.

You notieced that morning that his appearance was a little disheveled. It didn't look like he got much sleep and despite his crisp white button down being practically perfect on him, the buttons on one of his sleeves was still undone. You approached him and nodded at a secluded corner and he follows. You fixed sleeve, rolling it up just a little before buttoning it, your fingers brushing over the watch on his wrist for just a moment.

Coriolanus complained without you even saying a word, talking about some paper that he was working on and you'd shut him up with a kiss.

He broke away first, trying to fix some of his appearance and your hand, still resting on his shoulder, moved into his soft curls and tugged harshly on them so you can slot your lips back to yours. It was something you always did when you took control over him, and he knew this. He kissed you back, having missed the feeling of your lips on his. Your free hand not tangled in his curls rubbed down his chest to his belt, then below it in quick succession, pressing your palm against his bulge.

Coriolanus bit down on your lip and the glare he gave you when you pulled away, confused, would have been enough to send you to your knees, begging for him to forgive you if you weren't at the academy.

What you didn't know is trying to control Coriolanus in this setting of all places really pissed him off. He was cold to you the rest of the day, not even giving you his usual teasing treatment. That is, until the last hour of class, he pushed a piece of paper into your coat pocket and he had written out in what looked like rushed handwriting something about wanting to study with you at his place.

You were almost scared to go. Almost. But your body still brought you there despite you running laps in your head about what he could possibly be planning to do.

And now, you were laying on your front in his bed, ass up, completely naked. Coriolanus was still dressed in his school attire, but he had taken his suit jacket off, his sleeves rolled up higher. His hand palmed over the small of your back, relishing in the way you shivered at his touch.

He trailed his other fingers up your thigh, almost like he was taunting you and how wet you were. He takes a deep breath, then lets out a heavy sigh, "Okay, sweetheart. Will you take what I give you?"

It's your turn to let out a sigh, your head turned to the side and looking back at him, "what did I do?"

He laughs, two of his fingers prodding at your entrance before he dips them in without much warning. Coriolanus watches your face screw up and he keeps his fingers still. "I don't need to tell you, darling."

He leans down to kiss your hip, rubbing his hand over your ass again before slapping it. Your body jolts forward a little at the sensation. He's slapped you like this before, but never in this position. Never with his fingers pressing deep inside you, unmoving.

You don't even have to look at his face to know he's smirking all the way to hell. "Sweetheart, I'm gonna keep spanking you for a little, okay?"

You nod, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing how strained your voice is and he slaps your other cheek, harder than the first. "You know I don't like when you do that," he says with a tsk emanating from his lips.

"I don't like you, Snow," you sputter out, and he laughs again. You hated when he laughed in these moments. "You sure about that, sweetheart? You're clenching on my fingers right now," his voice is so soft, so unnerving and you realize you have been tightening around him.

"Cause you won't move your fingers, asshole," you whine, pushing back against his fingers, but Coriolanus is quick. Too quick as he delivers two more slaps to one of your cheeks and you whine again.

"Oh, sweetheart. You must not understand, see, they're just resting there," he coos and his tone makes you want to push him away and well; smack his face so hard his jaw breaks.

"And I get the great pleasure of feeling your pussy tighten around my fingers every time I..." he trails and smacks your ass, another whine tumbling from your lips.

"Coryo..."

"Don't 'Coryo,' me sweetheart, it's not gonna work." His hand comes down again and he tilts his head, watching the way your cunt squeezes his fingers. It's tough for him to keep them still, he admits in his own thoughts, but he knows you're getting mad at him and he likes that a whole lot more.

"Look at you darling, already dripping onto the bed," he teases as his hand and mouth take turns. One moment, the soft allure of his voice is heard and the next, his large hand is smacking down onto your ass.

When your whimpers start to sound painful, he dares to look at your face, painted with pleasure and pain. "You think I'll fuck you, tonight?"

And all he gets is another whimper in response as tears prick at your eyes. You're so desperate for movement, for him to give you something. He curls his fingers ever so slightly and you moan out as if you've been holding it in, but before you can even enjoy the feeling, he's keeping them still again, slapping your ass the hardest he's done it tonight.

"My sweetheart. You're such a slut for pain hm? Who would've thought? Certainly not me," Coriolanus gives you a wicked smirk and you close your eyes to get it out of your head, but you just can't.

"Fuck, you're dripping on my watch," and his hand comes up to swipe some of your wetness and he licks his fingers, but you don't know that.

He's consuming every part of you and it's the worst thing you could ever think of to be happening, but what you would give right now for him to fuck his fingers into you.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

based off of this

[vivalas-vega]

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

howdy y'all - we've got another rooster fic. i feel i've neglected this man too much on my blog and wanna start writing for him more so here we are with a fleet week fic inspired by my own journey onto a navy ship yesterday!!! (the similarities between my fic and the real deal start and end with waiting in line. my guide was cute but let's just say he was no bradley bradshaw). it was very cool and educational and if your city does fleet week i highly recommend checking it out! this fic will have maybe three parts total. anyways hope you enjoy :)

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

follow my taglist blog and turn on notifications to be updated @vegaslibrary

word count: 3.2k

warnings: slight language, naval inaccuracies!! (even tho I just did my own fleet week tour I still don't know shit, I'm just a girl)

The ocean breeze filtered through your hair as you stood off to the side, eyes fixated on the impressive carriers in front of you. The sun felt hot on your skin and excitement was buzzing through your veins as you listened to your best friend in your ear… well, half-listened.

“We’re brunching! Come on, meet us at Malibu Farm,” Maggie said and you sighed.

“I told you it’s Fleet Week, I’m already down here,” you replied and you could feel her eyes roll on the other side of the phone.

“I would be supportive if you were trying to bag one of those Navy hotties but come on… bottomless mimosas and all the dirt on Stephanie’s breakup are better than some boats,” she said.

“I will see you for drinks tonight,” was all you replied before hanging up. You’d tried (very unsuccessfully) to convince some of your friends to come with you, telling them about how cool these carriers were and how you only got the chance to see them up close and personal once a year but they had zero interest… you were the only one in your circle who found this sort of thing interesting, and you would have been bummed except for the fact that you were more than okay doing things by yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to a concert or a museum solo, you actually enjoyed it… you loved hanging out with your friends but it was nice to not be tied to what the majority of the group wanted to do (or didn’t want to do), and as you waited in line you were actually a little glad none of them had taken you up on your offer. If Maggie were here she’d be ogling the cute officer who appeared to be getting ready to take your group on board, and she’d spend the whole tour trying to flirt with him instead of listening to what he had to say. 

You were content to wait in line as long as it took, taking in the beautiful ships to your left before switching to people watching, you knew this week drew all kinds of visitors and you found it entertaining to see such an eclectic mix of people all in one space… there were the obvious ex-Navy types, returning to their roots and reliving the glory days, there were couples who looked a little out of their element but excited for something new to do as a date, and families with kids… you even spotted an entire elementary class on a field trip. Spare your friend group, most people were more than interested in the opportunity to spend a day aboard multi-million dollar vessels and you were one of them.

Across the way Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was chatting with his teammates about how much they wanted today to be over… it wasn’t that he hated Fleet Week, because he did enjoy it for about the first hour, but after that it became tiresome to give the same spiel over and over and over. They’d all tried to get out of it, Natasha had even gone so far as trying to manifest a deployment, but according to the higher ups there was no excuse for the Navy’s best and brightest to not make an appearance at an event happening so close to their home base. 

But then he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you seem so enamored by everything around you… you didn’t hold an ounce of annoyance over the fact you’d been standing in that same spot going on half an hour now, something he’d seen from other visitors a dozen times already, and when a gust of wind kicked up your hair and sent it fluttering around your face you gave a half hearted attempt to tame it, but really you were just enjoying the breeze and the sun on your skin and he knew he had to know your name. He watched Jake getting ready to take your group aboard and he had to know if you’d abandon the formal tour in favor of letting him take you up instead.

You were eavesdropping on a conversation between a sailor and a kid just ahead of you, a soft smile on your lips as you listened to just how excited both parties were to be talking about the ship in front of you and you were so focused on them that you didn’t notice a person approaching you, not until his shadow cast across your face and when you turned you saw a man who nearly knocked the wind out of you… he was tall and solid, arms straining against the short sleeves of his khaki uniform and you thought that no one should look good in that color yet here he was proving you wrong. His golden brown waves glistened in the direct sunlight and he had a slight smirk beneath a mustache that you really wanted to hate, but you really didn’t… he was handsome, potentially one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and here he was standing directly in front of you and you looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” he introduced, extending his hand for you to shake which you did as you gave him your name and a smile. “What brings you out today?”

“A bizarre fascination with ships the size of planets,” you replied and he laughed. It was warm and a little rough around the edges, much like you’d appraised him to be in your short interaction, and you wanted to hear it again.

“Well, my day wrapped up not too long ago and I couldn’t help but notice you waiting for a tour…” he started, leaning in slightly with a mischievous look on his face as if he was about to tell you a secret, “and between you and me, your tour guide is a dud.” he finished and you looked towards the man, tall, blonde and oozing charisma and you had a feeling Bradley was lying to you as you watched him charm the entirety of your group with one sentence… but you weren’t feeling too keen on calling him out on his fib.

“Oh no, is that so?” you replied, disappointment lacing your tone.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I think you oughta let me take you up, make sure you get the tour you deserve,” he propositioned and you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think that might be for the best… for the sake of a thorough Navy education and all,” you said and he nodded, gesturing towards the ramp and he held out his hand for you to take as you pulled yourself onto the steep landing. His hand was warm in yours and all-encompassing as he held it and made sure you made it safely before letting it fall back to your side and you were almost a little disappointed when he did.

He led you into the cargo hold, a massive room filled with so many things your eyes had a hard time adjusting at first. You trailed alongside him as he explained everything to you, sparing no detail as he went and you were particularly fascinated by the boat that was rigged to be deployed at a moments notice, positioned right in front of a hatch door, and he told you it was primarily there for search and rescue missions as he rattled off information about how long it takes to get it down into the water and pointed out the crane used to move it around as needed.

You listened with rapt attention as you continued through, you added a quip or a question here and there but mostly you were hanging onto his every word as he pointed out things like their freezer and the gym, and you realized you might have been content to listen to this man read you his grocery list and you had to make a conscious effort to focus on the words themselves and not just the voice that was speaking them. As you made your way up a steep and narrow stairwell, so much so you might have described it closer to a ladder than stairs, he stayed right behind you where he could catch you if you fell and you tried to ignore the fact that his diligence almost made you want to fall.

“There’s a lot up here,” he said as he led you down a hallway lined with doors, “but it’s mostly just bunks and offices. We’re not technically supposed to show you this, but… I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added as he pushed one of the doors open and you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key as you peeked inside, taking in the modest living quarters with multiple twin beds.

“So, this is where you sleep when you’re deployed?” you asked and he nodded, brow furrowing when you looked at him, clearly skeptical about something as your eyes trailed him top to bottom before returning to the beds in front of you, “how do you even fit?” you followed up and immediately you flushed, not meaning to ask that at all but it was the first thing that popped into your head and it flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Not comfortably, sweetheart,” he replied with a laugh and you smiled softly at the term of endearment as he shut the door and nodded for you to follow. He talked about the photos lining the walls, telling you who was who or what was what in the ones he recognized before you went up another stairwell and before you could walk through the door frame in front of you he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at him, an unasked question on your face, and he gave you that addictive smirk of his, “now this is the really fun part that very few people get to see,” he prefaced and you felt anticipation brimming as he kept his hands on you and guided you forward.

“Just breaking all the rules today aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you replied and he wanted to tell you that you could just call him Bradley but one look at the mischief in your eyes told him you knew that… you just liked calling him Lieutenant and he liked hearing it too much to stop you. When you turned your attention forward you were faced with two beautiful jets right in front of you and you faltered for a moment, stunned by the sheer impressiveness of the aircrafts.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, careful of your step as you approached one of them and Bradley tried to commit that look of awe on your features to memory, his heart stuttering at the sight. You instinctively reached a hand out before snapping it back, realizing you probably shouldn’t be touching things with price tags you couldn’t comprehend.

He chuckled, “go ahead, it’s mine so do your worst.” 

He thought you might get whiplash with how quickly you turned to face him, “yours? How have we made it through this whole tour without you mentioning you’re a pilot?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes,” he replied as you returned your focus to his jet, hand trailing along the smooth metal as you walked around it.

“I never thought I’d get to see an F/A-18 in person… at least not one that’s active,” you sighed, and now he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest. “Tops out at what, twelve hundred?” you asked and he blinked in surprise, only able to nod in response because he didn’t quite trust his words right now. He knew he liked you as soon as he saw you, so much so he was taking you on his tenth tour of the day when all he’d wanted to do previously was go to the bar, but now he was worried he was in a little over his head as you appreciated his jet, having identified it immediately without any help from him. “God, this is incredible, Bradley,” you said, maybe a little breathless from how excited you were and before you knew it he was disappearing, leaving you standing at the nose with a confused expression.

You laughed when he returned, rolling a ladder to the side of his jet and beckoning you over. He hadn’t anticipated you to know anything about planes, or really have any interest beyond the first minute of being in front of it, but now that he knew otherwise he wanted to show you everything. He held onto your hand as you took each step, trailing right behind you just as he had in the stairwells and when you got to the landing he started pulling the canopy back and you let out another soft gasp.

“Can you get in trouble for this?” you asked, turning to look at him. You knew private tours with high ranking pilots were not standard for Fleet Week, and you also knew this wasn’t an area most people would be allowed in, and you worried for a brief moment what would happen to him if anyone caught you.

He shook his head, “you’re accompanied by a Lieutenant, we’re fine,” he answered, smiling as you leaned over slightly to look inside his cockpit and his heart was thudding in his chest at the sheer wonder in your eyes. He started pointing out all of the controls, telling you what they did and why, and he answered your every question just as he had with the rest of the ship. “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta be honest… I’ve never met anyone who gave a damn about these jets that didn't work in or around them already.” 

You pulled your attention back to him with an incredulous look, “how could they not?” you asked, and you wanted to keep your gaze on those pretty brown eyes that were locked on you, but the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet and you looked back inside the jet. “I mean… this is next level engineering wrapped up in a pretty package, what’s better than that?” He thought you were beautiful when he saw you standing on your own with your hair blowing in the breeze and the sun kissing your skin, he thought you were beautiful when you laughed at his dumb jokes in the cargo hold, but right now he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you slightly bent over and leaning into his cockpit as you truly appreciated the one thing he loved most in this world.

“Please let me take you on a date,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself and you looked at him a little surprised. You’d been hoping since he approached you that he’d ask, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the unexpected timing.

“Ask me again after the tour,” you replied with a smirk and though it vaguely sounded like rejection he couldn’t help but smile. If you wanted to make him work for it then he absolutely would. You asked him a question about the gauges and he told you exactly what they measured, and when you finally made your way back down the ladder he even let you sit on the second to last step as he wheeled it back to its place.

“Bradley!” you squealed when he whipped it around, hands bracing on the poles on either side of you and you were a little breathless when you were suddenly facing him, looking up at him as his strong hands gripped just above your head as he continued pushing you through the open area.

“Just wanted a better view,” he replied and you flushed at the compliment. Even though it was only two steps he still offered you his hand as you got off and of course you still accepted it, lingering for a moment before dropping it. He took you back through the carrier a different way than you’d came so he could show you absolutely everything, still narrating as he went. Truthfully, there wasn’t much difference on this route than the other but it was longer and he wanted to drag this out. He knew as soon as you stepped off the ship he wouldn’t have any reason to keep you longer than he already had, and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as he could. 

When you entered the now familiar cargo hold you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, you didn’t want your time with Bradley to come to an end but it seemed it was inevitable as he led you down the ramp and back onto solid ground. Your eyes were bright when you turned to face him and you still had that smile on that hadn’t seemed to leave your face all day and it was another sight he wanted to commit to memory. You had surprised the hell out of him, turned his boring day around the second he saw you and he knew with certainty he couldn’t get enough of you… and you were in the exact same boat. You knew when you got here today you’d have a good time, that the other man Bradley insisted was a dud still would have given a good tour and you’d have gotten exactly what you came for but the man in front of you exceeded every one of your expectations and then some, and you weren’t looking forward to the moment you had to go back to your car and not have his eyes on you anymore.

“Bradley, that was…” you sighed, “that was incredible, I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”

“Let me take you out,” he replied easily and you flushed, the tour was over and he was wasting no time in asking you out again, and this time you let him. 

You nodded, “I’m free tonight.” His grin was wide as he fished his phone out of his pocket for you to input your number, and you couldn’t help but mirror him when he told you to put your address as well so he could pick you up… if this was anyone else, if you hadn’t just spent the afternoon with him catering to your every query and whim, you would have told him no. You would have said you could meet him somewhere, but you trusted him. The few hours spent together showed you that you could, and that wasn’t lost on Bradley. If you’d said no he wouldn’t have even blinked, he would have suggested something else that made you more comfortable, but you didn’t say no… and that caused his chest to tighten as he looked down at your beautiful smile.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and you felt your skin tingling as he pulled away. “Wear something comfortable.”

You nodded, a little curious as to what he could have planned but you could just tell if you asked he wouldn’t say, and you were more than happy to let this man surprise you. “I’ll see you tonight, Bradley.”

“And I’ll be counting down every second.”

[see-arcane]

I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. [...] I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.

Jonathan, no, don't give into the guys' peer pressure noooo

It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men.

[...] Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read.

Mina, no, you have to communicate now, in the present, you're you, you can un-acquiesce, you can break the curse, just talk to Jonathan now, noooooo

GOD this is masterfully infuriating work, Bramward Stokerbroker. Here we have on paper just how much this new status quo--the 'proper' status quo--grates against both of them. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth with the effort to keep smiling and nodding through this unanimous* decision. They know it is For Mina's Sake that they are doing this. Sure, they both hate every second of it and it breaks a loving rhythm they've shared for years together, BUT THEY KNOW BETTER NOW :)))

(Lucy is screaming in the afterlife. Renfield has his head in his hands.)

But all that aside, a thing I'm hooked on this read-around is the fact that, hey. We are reading this. Spoiler, but the entirety of Dracula is actually compiled together by Mina after the story closes. These are all written documents we're reading that the entire group has laid eyes on already. With everyone (bar Art and Quincey for some reason, thanks Mr. 3 Lines Allowed and Mr. Laconic :/, Jack is just talking and waiting for Mina to transcribe now, augh) on duty in some way to record the progress of things so that they can be read later as reference...I have to wonder now.

How honest are these pages the Harkers are putting down now versus what they wrote before joining Van Helsing's Scooby gang? Neither one is writing in shorthand. It's all plain English.

I had a class once where one of the assignments was to keep a daily journal. One page filled out every single day, about anything. Anyone want to guess how many personal secrets or honest feelings I put in those pages for the guy grading my class to read? If you said anything higher than 0 you're wrong.

The Harkers have an audience to worry about right now. An audience of Prof. Et Cetera, Dr. Asylum Director (whose asylum they're currently living in! the kind of place where Jonathan could've ended up and innumerable women have been imprisoned for being women the Wrong Way! whee!), Incredibly Wealthy and Empowered Lord, and Mr. Likewise Rich 'We Should Do Guns About It' American. Who all seem to like them, fresh-from-the-lower class, industrious and Dracula-confronting sorts that they are. Fast friends, all of them.

(Jonathan is still only Harker to them. Simultaneously the Man Who Survived Castle Dracula and the gofer guy doing the footwork and the paperwork/property hunt while Van Helsing hits the library and the others...well, I'm sure they're doing something. Other than re-reading the first half of Dracula.)

(...Which was compiled and transcribed by Mina. Who faced down Dracula in her jammies. Unarmed. At night. For Lucy. But she can't handle your scary stories about the houses full of dirt boxes, let alone join you on the hunt she was explicitly prepared and eager to help with. Can't risk it, little lady, off to bed now.)

This is where they are now that they've ~joined forces~ with Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad. After all they've done, all they're still relied on to do, the Harkers are with allies who have had their acquaintance for less than three days. And now, to appease those allies and their opinions and to keep everything placid with these nice, outnumbering, socially and monetarily endowed parties, they do what they've always done when faced with the fact of their being perpetually on the low rung of the ladder.

The Harkers accommodate. Including in their own diaries, as these too are now deemed forfeit important to the Cause, should the gang need to comb back through it all for clues.

That's why the Harkers are the only ones writing it down--because they already were. They're the kids in the group project who can be trusted to do the work. So just let them keep doing it. Keep an accurate record now, kids! You do such a good job of it, we'd only be getting in the way, ha ha. Remember that we can and will read everything you put down in the future.

Hence: All of what we read today. And will read in the dates to come.

The Harkers are writing under a (friendly) gun right now. They can purge some feelings, but not all of them. And not completely. And not in any way that certain doctors and upper class people of power they barely know might misconstrue as ungrateful or mad in any sense. The Harkers are good people. The Harkers are helpful. The Harkers are team players even if that means no longer being a team themselves. They chafe a little at this, but it's all so new to them! It's alright. God's will and Van Helsing's be done. They know better now.

With all this in mind, it makes much more sense why Jonathan chooses to use shorthand for a Very Particular Entry we see coming up. An entry that Mina alone could read and decide to enter in the distant future, after the storm had passed.

And why, in light of all that happens, he cannot trust himself to put more than a vignette's worth of lines down as time goes on. Not if he wants to keep himself from laying out some actual honesty for everyone to read. Mina's entries will be weightier things, while she still has the capacity to write--carefully. Always carefully.

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 8/16

<<< previous part

Word count - 3.6k

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

Yourusername tagged Charles Leclerc in their story

It was the first race of the season and the official ‘hard launch’ of yours and Charles’ relationship, from this point you were allowed to start posting clear images of each other - but you had been begging the team to have a proper meeting about your reveal but Mattia kept pushing it, delaying and delaying until it was too ‘inconvenient’ because of the race weekend and the focus would now be on the upcoming race instead of you. Instead, you were told to just keep your head down and focus on your performance on and off the track as both Charles’ girlfriend and as Thirty.

Your jaw felt tight as you pulled your Ferrari polo over your head, Charles humming softly behind you as he gathered his things for the day - in seemingly much higher spirits than you. The car had performed well during testing and so his hopes were high for a good result in the first race. “Are you nearly ready to go, y/n?”

“Yeah, of course. Just need to grab my bag… I dropped most of my stuff off at the motorhome yesterday.” You smiled, taking his hand as he offered it to you. “You ready for quali?”

“I’m actually buzzed.” He said, grinning and pulling you closer. “Starting the season off with a new car and with the best girl at my side?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Charles, I’ve been at your side for years.”

He playfully narrowed his gaze, lifting his hand to cup your jaw - leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “You know what I mean, don’t be a tease. I’m sorry that they keep dismissing your meeting, I know it must be getting frustrating.”

“You have no idea.” You sighed softly. “And I want to talk to them about us as well… I don’t know if they’ll want to handle this differently now there’s real feelings involved.”

“Well, either way I’m here for you. I know I say this a lot but I like you and regardless of what they say I can see a future for us.”

“Those are some big words, Charles… you really think about the future like that?” He could tell your voice was timid, that you were unsure.

The Monaco native simply nodded. “Not to scare you off or anything. I know it’s quick to say it but I’ve always felt strongly for you and this whole situation has just cemented it for me.”

“It doesn’t. I’ve just… I’ve just been alone for so long it feels strange to have someone who wants to stay in my life long term…”

The fact your admission didn’t shock Charles broke his heart- having the career you did, didn’t allow people to get close and those who were lucky enough to be in your life, like your father, were nowhere. He wanted to be that person for you, the person you could always turn to even if the rest of the world seemed to turn its back.

“Well, you’re stuck me with me for as long as you want me around.” He spoke softly, almost as if he was scared that his voice could break you if he raised it.

You gave him a gentle smile before the two of you head out to the paddock for qualifying day - they wanted to use you and Charles coming together as a distraction from the Thirty rumours, so you complied. You knew biting back would just result in them pushing your meeting further and further but you just couldn’t afford to get sued either. You were under their thumb, so for now you had to let them play their cards before you showed yours.

Although you knew yours and Charles' relationship was F1’s worst kept secret, you were surprised just how many people seemed to care when you stepped into the paddock hand-in-hand. Your teammate seemed used to it, chatting idly away to you as you made your way to the Ferrari motorhome but you couldn’t help but sense every single pair of eyes that fell on you.

“Look at the lovebirds, so cute!” You turned at the sound of Carlos’ voice - his Redbull teammate not too far behind. “I approve of this pairing.”

“That fast, huh?” You teased.

“I’m just surprised it took you so long.” Max chimed in. “We’ve all known each other for nearly 2 decades at this point… so if anything, this is slow.”

“Carlos didn’t know us.” You corrected. “It was really nice to spend time with everyone in Bali though, I felt really welcomed.”

The two Redbull drivers both gave you kind smiles, your childhood friend went to speak again but they were ushered away by their coaches - wanting to get them ready for free practice. You would have to disappear into your mask for the next few hours, put on your persona - visor down, race suit on. Charles gave you one more kiss on the cheek before ushering you into the motorhome, making it seem as if you were simply a couple spending some time apart. But you were subtly guided into your driver's room to get ready yourself.

You just wanted this weekend over with.

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

Yourusername added to their story

You and Charles sandwiched Max on the grid when the race finally rolled around, the Champion’s teammate beside you on the second row. You knew Redbull were going to be tough to beat, their car seemed significantly better than last year and with Mercedes seemingly struggling the fight was going to be between you and them. Your third championship was within reach and you were going to fight tooth and nail to get it - not letting your relationship with Charles sway that. Sure, you wanted him to win his first but at the end of the day, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want that feeling again.

It was dark as you sat in the cockpit of your car, eyes flickering across the track in front of you as the team worked on your car. Your race engineer repeated race strategy over the comms to you and you simply nodded along - tapping your fingers on your steering wheel.

Charles walked past your car and patted the halo lightly, sending you a smile before heading to his own car - race helmet hanging from his fingers. His fireproofs clung to his figure and you couldn’t help but study his figure; his broad shoulders into his little waist - it was crazy the way some of these men were built and the Monegasque was no exception to that. There were many times during your trip that you wanted to throw caution to the wind and just have your way with him. But you needed to behave, as much as you wanted to enjoy these new feelings with him, getting another Championship was at the front of your mind.

As the cars circled the track in the formation lap, your mind cleared of everything - it was the first race of the season and you were determined to make it the best one yet. If you were going to take your helmet off some day soon, you had to make sure everyone remembered why you had the seat in the first place. You deserved to be here and you had to prove that to yourself and everyone else.

You pulled up to your grid spot, angling your car in just a way to get the best start. And with one more deep breath, the lights began to count down.

“It’s lights out and away we go.”

The first race of the season and you’d got a 1-2, the absolute perfect start - it couldn’t have gone any better, especially with both Redbull cars not finishing the race. As soon as you stepped out of the car, Charles wrapped you up in a hug - his strong arms squeezing you tight. “We did it!”

You held in your laughter knowing there were cameras nearby that could pick up audio and gave him a squeeze back. A warm touch was placed on your shoulder and you turned to see the kind eyes of none other than Lewis, the Redbull DNF meant he was joining you both on the podium - he’d been one of your biggest rivals the last few years but he always had nothing but kind words to say about you, even in during your toughest battles.

“Amazing race today, Thirty. Just saw a clip of your overtake on Checo before he went out, so smooth.” He smiled, his gaze flickering across your helmet.

It took everything in you not to thank him, so you simply gave his hand a firm shake. He gave you an understanding smile and went back over to his team. You could see the media hoping you’d come over for a post-race interview but before you could even think about it you were ushered straight inside to wait for the podium. Their fear you would reveal the secret was becoming larger each day, especially with the speculation - so any time they could get you away from the press they would.

“You didn’t say anything out there did you?” Your handler spoke up, you shook your head. “You didn’t do anything that would give you away?”

They were the standard questions he asked after every race, but more than ever they irked you - you’d been doing this for years, they just never trusted you. You bit your tongue and nodded again, wanting nothing more than to take your helmet off and run out on the podium.

“Good. Now, you know the next bit - go out, get your trophy, champagne and then back to your room.”

A stray tear rolled down your cheek, the worst part of it all was not being able to celebrate with your team after the race. Share your achievement with the people who had helped you get there. It broke your heart. Sure, they had Charles’ win to celebrate this time but when it had just been you on the podium you watched them all cheer without you. This time however, you were caught a little by surprise when on the podium, Charles’ hand came up to rest on the side of your helmet - it was just for a moment but the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. And with no nearby mics to pick up any audio he leant in and whispered.

“Champagne in your room after this.”

You were so glad to be wearing your helmet because your cheeks flushed as dark as your race suit. God, I wish I could kiss you right now. You were brought back into the moment as your visor was coated in champagne by Lewis, the Brit smiling big as he tipped the bottle over your helmet. You returned the favour by spraying him directly in the chest - savouring the moment of celebration before you were locked away.

It was then you decided to put your toe across the line, as the three of you stepped off the podium and out away from the cameras - you turned to Lewis, approaching him before your handler could haul you away. “Thank you. For everything… I-”

Before you could get another word out, your handler grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you away - not before you managed to get a look at Lewis’ reaction. His face had split into a big smile. “Thank you as well!”

You were practically shoved into your room by your handler, who slammed the door behind you. “What the fuck was that? You know the terms of your contract, y/n. Are you trying to get sued?!”

“All I said was thank you.” You said calmly, finally pulling your helmet off. “The media knows I’m a woman so what’s the harm in saying thank you to Lewis? I could still be anyone.”

His jaw clenched. “You better hope he says nothing or else this will have big consequences.”

He left the room in a huff when you didn’t respond, simply slumping on the sofa - letting your head roll back onto the back. Your eyes fluttered closed as you finally took a moment to yourself to be happy with your result. P2 in the first race of the season. If this is how the rest of it was going to be then maybe your third championship really was possible.

“Knock knock.” Charles pushed open the door just enough to come into the room with a bottle of champagne, locking it behind him. “As promised… felt wrong celebrating without you.”

Your teammate sat beside you, offering you the bottle of which you took a large sip. “That was, uh, cool what you did… with Lewis.”

“Could’ve fucked my entire career but-” You shrugged. “Honestly, fuck it. I’ve raced him my entire career… I would’ve said more if-”

Charles chuckled and draped an arm across your shoulders, letting your head rest against him. “You said plenty. You have no idea how much that meant to Lewis, he was absolutely buzzing. Giggling like a little school girl.”

That made you smile. “Oh, good… I really… I don’t regret doing it, I know Lewis understands what I’m going through - I trust him to keep his cool around the press even if I don’t have to ask.”

“Cheers to that.”

You tilted your head to look at him, his green eyes already directed at you. His hand came up once again but this time could rest on your skin - his thumb brushing across your cheek before he pressed a chaste but meaningful kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you savoured the feeling, chasing his lips as he pulled back - just enough where you could feel his breath against your skin.

“...be mine?”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Am I not already?”

He scoffed playfully. “You’re such a tease, mon amour… please, be my girlfriend… for real.”

“Mhmm, pretty boy. Love when you beg” You giggled softly, pressing your lips to his. “I’d love to be your girlfriend, Charles.”

You weren't sure what response you expected but he simply rested his forehead against yours, his hand still resting on your jaw - a small, soft smile on his face. “I really like you, y/n. And no matter what happens with your career, I’ve got your back. You’ve been through hell and back for this team and I won’t let them tarnish your reputation.”

“Thank you… and just for the record, I really like you too.”

A knock on the door summoning Charles to the media pen brought you both back to reality, and with one more kiss he left the room - allowing you to turn on the TV just in time to catch none other than Lewis in front of the camera.

“Congrats on your first podium of the season, Lewis, how are you feeling?”

He nodded eagerly. “Really good, I’m really happy - I know the Redbulls not finishing definitely played its part and we have some work to do with the car but yeah I’m very happy with the result.”

“You had some nice words for Thirty after the race, did they give you anything?”

You chewed nervously at the skin around your fingers but just as you predicted Lewis simply shook his head. “Nothing. They’re as elusive as ever.”

“Thank god.” You mumbled, finally deciding to strip out of your race suit and back into your polo shirt - putting your admin disguise back on before your handler finally decided to send someone to let you out of your room.

When you entered the garage, you started helping pack away - post-race was always the most frustrating for you. To blend in they insisted you do the extra work, but you were exhausted - you’d just done nearly 60 laps of a grand prix and then they expected you to do grunt work too? It was almost as if Charles could hear your internal monologue because he came up behind you, leaning across your shoulder to press a kiss to your cheek.

“My girl… let’s get you out of here, hmm?” His voice was low. “You’ve worked hard enough.”

You let out a sigh of relief, turning to face him. “You read my mind, my hero.”

He lent in and kissed you, his hand finding its home on your jaw - feeling bolder about his affections now you were official outside of the contract. You had almost forgotten that this had all started off as fake but was now very real. He wasn’t kissing you because he had to, he was kissing you because he wanted to. And you were still trying to wrap your head around it all - but while you did, you were going to enjoy every second of it.

When you pulled back from the kiss, you locked eyes with your PR manager who gave you a thumbs up.

“I almost don’t want to tell them it’s real.” You scoffed lightly, taking his hand to tug him out of the garage. “Let them just think we’re really good actors.”

The Monaco native chuckled softly from beside you, squeezing your hand. You were hoping to escape from the paddock, so you kept your head down - your Ferrari cap blocking your face but alas, you were walking next to Charles bloody Leclerc so it was never going to be easy. He was very quickly distracted by some fans at the barriers, stopping to sign and take photos. You waited patiently, playing the role of a good girlfriend, but let your eyes scan the rest of the paddock.

You turned your head when you felt eyes on you - Lewis’ intense gaze had fixated on you from across the way as Bono spoke to him. The cogs turning in his brain were almost visible - like he was putting the pieces together. You gave him a shy wave and he gave you a two finger salute before nodding towards a small passage between two of the Mercedes motorhomes.

“U-Uhm, I’ll be back in a second, Charles.” Your boyfriend acknowledged you with a simple smile, allowing you to slip away towards the former Champion.

It felt bizarre, sneaking into a darkened alleyway with Lewis Hamilton but you were intrigued by what he had to say. There was barely a foot between you as you stood with your back to the wall, his eyes studying you through long lashes. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“...it’s you isn’t it.” His voice was quiet, eyes boring into yours. “You’re Thirty.”

You pressed your lips into a line and he raised a challenging brow, daring you to deny it. “How did you figure it out?”

His smile alone was worth it. “I could never forget your voice… I can’t believe it’s really you.”

There was a different look in his eyes, as if he was really seeing you for the very first time - his rival, his fellow driver. “I… I have so much I want to say to you, y/n. Maybe we can have a proper talk sometime? I’ll give you my number…”

You were collecting Champion’s phone numbers like pokemon cards at this point - after giving you his number and making him text you so he had yours he placed his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, not too dissimilar from the one he’d given you after the race. “It was nice to meet you for real, y/n. Don’t be a stranger.”

It took a moment for you to catch your breath before you returned to Charles who had finally drawn away from the fans to offer you his hand - frowning a little when he saw the clearly exasperated look on your face. “Everything okay?”

You dragged him back to the car, letting out a deep breath - the driver still staring at you with concern. “Lewis knows.”

“...fucking hell. I saw him in the media pen, he didn’t say anything. Reckon you can still trust him?” He asked, placing a hand on your thigh.

“Don’t think I have a choice.” You chuckled nervously. “So that's you, Sebastian, Max and Lewis… Do you think anyone else is suspicious of me?”

“If they are, they’ve not said anything to me.”

The car park was slowly beginning to empty as the rest of the grid made their way to their cars and bikes. You studied each of them, Fernando, Esteban… Yuki… Valtteri… any one of them could suspect you but you’d never know. You let your eyes return to Charles who still had a worried look on his face, so you lent across and pressed a deep kiss to his lips - this time he was the one chasing you as you pulled back; his chest rising and falling and the green of his eyes almost hidden in its entirely by the depth of his pupils.

“How about…” You said, feeling breathless yourself. “...we go back to our hotel and celebrate our podium.”

His eyes widened a little. “You mean-”

“Oh, I mean…”

You lent in, your hand brushing up his thigh as you whispered absolute filth into his ear - you could practically feel his heart racing as you cupped the back of his neck to kiss him once again. Charles had to fight every urge to pull you into his lap and take you right here in the car park but you deserved more for your first time together. He moved back again and started the engine. you gave him a playful smile.

“Take me home, Winner.”

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

Gif credit @yesloulou

Next part >>>

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[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "Stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe.” “You break the tradition and you end up being cursed for life. Is that what you want?” “…Are you blackmailing me right now?”

Pairing: Floyd Leech x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

TW: Reader is not Yuu, Reader is implied to be human and an Octavinelle student, Jade is a menace who let's his brother get away with everything.

AN: Day 3 and it's Floyd! His was the first fic that I completed so I have a special spot for this in my heart. I love how this turned out honestly. Also this prompt was the one that gave me the idea to do this event in the first place lol. I tried my best to keep Floyd in character as much as I could, but if he feels ooc I'm sorry hehe. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

You could feel Floyd staring holes into your head as you served the customers in the Mostro Lounge.

The Lounge was busier than usual. With the steady arrival of the holidays, even the gruelling exams the staff had set for the student body couldn't dampen their spirits, which meant celebrating in advance at the Lounge with friends. And with business booming your house warden was in even higher spirits. Of course, the growing rush of patrons for the Lounge meant that nearly all of Octavinelle was roped in to help out, serving dishes and working in the kitchen.

A little extra pocket money never hurt anyone, plus Azul had assured that everyone who would work a certain amount of hours at the lounge would be getting a considerable bonus, so you didn't mind having to work long hours scrubbing dishes or smiling at customers as you helped them pick out what to eat and drink. It was a welcome distraction from poring over your books till your brain turned to mush and driving yourself up the wall overthinking about the results of your exams (that you knew you did well at; it's just irrational fears doing what they do best).

What you did mind, however, was the fact that somehow, you had managed to catch the attention of one of the most unpredictable students at Night Raven College, Floyd Leech.

No, scratch that. Catching his attention was... fine, but holding it for more than two days?

That was terrifying.

You mentally cursed out the idiot who had attached sprigs of mistletoe to all the doorways in the Octavinelle dorm. While it had led to many funny and embarrassing moments for others in the dorm, it had quickly become tiresome to monitor yourself while entering or exiting a room. Especially when the mistletoe couldn't be removed with normal and magical means, much like a heterochromatic eel merman who just wouldn't let you be ever since you explained the silly tradition behind them to him.

"Heeyy flying fishie~"

The familiar drawl of his voice made you freeze momentarily. You held the empty server tray close to your chest as if the round piece of metal could somehow protect you from the tall eel who had taken an interest in you. "Yes, Floyd?"

Floyd gave you a lazy smirk, swinging an arm around your neck and leaning against you. You struggled a bit to hold yourself up with his added weight. You watched your vice-house warden and the twin brother of this menace turn a blind eye to your predicament, and resisted the urge to throw the tray at Jade's head as you caught a glimpse of a smirk on his lips.

"Say, why'd you run away from me yesterday, hm? Did ya wanna get squeezed that badly?" Floyd giggled, and you couldn't figure out whether your heart was cartwheeling inside your chest out of fear or because of how unbelievably adorable that sound was.

"I just- I needed to study."

"Ehhh? Study?" Floyd narrowed his eyes at you, and you prayed you had not flipped the switch on his mood from happy to angry.

"Studying's boooring. I wanna play with flying fishie~" Floyd hummed, a mysterious glint in his eyes as he pulled you towards the kitchen. One that went unnoticed as your eyes caught sight of the one plant you had started dreading seeing.

"Why is there mistletoe on the door to the kitchen?" You asked, but your question came too late. Floyd had already opened the door and pulled you in. Another sprig of mistletoe was stuck on the inside, the white berries looking down on the two of you through flecks of green. It felt like the tiny parasitic plant was mocking you for finally falling into its trap.

"Ohh, we're under mistletoe~ Just like a few days ago, isn't that right flying fishie~" he smirked, crowding you till you had your back against the door.

You looked past him to see.... no one?

Where did everyone go? Service wasn't over yet, so why was the kitchen empty?

"Flying fishie~ Where's my kiss~" he hummed, eyes carefully assessing you as his fingers pinched your cheek. You tried to act stern, but your words came out in a tired tone.

"Floyd, stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe with you."

“You break the tradition and you end up being cursed for life. That's what you told me. Is that what you want?” he said, his face turning sombre, as if he hadn't been smiling at you all this while.

"Are- Are you seriously blackmailing me right now?!” you sputtered, your heart beating fast as you looked at him. Floyd leaned forward, smiling innocently.

"Maybe~"

You weighed your options, eyes carefully watching the other, much to his amusement. You were well and truly trapped between the door and this absolute wall of an eel with no way out. Atleast, none that didn't involve you giving in to the tradition some way.

Huffing, you finally decided on a course of action. You held his smug face and turned it to the side, quickly planting a kiss on his cheek. The shock and surprise of this unexpected kiss loosened his hold on you, and you quickly slipped out the door.

Speed-walking past a chuckling Jade and a confused Azul, you tried to control the heat you could feel in your cheeks and at the back of your neck by sheer force of will. A quick glance at the clock showed that your shift for the day was over.

You had never left the Lounge quicker.

Jade entered the kitchen, a smile on his face as he saw Floyd leaning against the wall with a surprised look.

"Flying fishie kissed me," he mumbled, and Jade had to force back the amused laugh that threatened to break free. "I suppose the mistletoe worked its magic. Humans sure do have funny rituals."

Jade's words seemed to bring back the spark in Floyd, who gave his twin a blinding smile. "I'm gonna go ask them for more!" he said as he rushed past him, and Jade shook his head in amusement as he called out to his twin.

"Remember to confess this time, Floyd."

Back to Masterlist...

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝘵𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑥 (ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝘰𝑛𝑠): 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: the years following you and Coriolanus’ wedding.

⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader

⊹ warnings: major character death, mentions of death, mentions of illness, assassination, violence, rioting, mentions of pregnancy, grief

⊹ word count: 1264

⊹ author’s note: I PROMISE I WROTE THIS BEFORE THE EVENTS OF YESTERDAY LOL. (the assassination attempt against trump) I noticed the other day it had been longer than I had thought that I had updated this fic. and I've only just gotten around to feeling like writing. but it's coincidental, I swear; this has been in the plot document for this fic for a while. I hope everyone enjoys this update and I'm sorry in advance lol

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

❝Let us not emphasize all on which we differ but all we have in common. Let us consider not what we fear separately but what we share together.❞ ― John F. Kennedy

✲ Being Coriolanus’ wife meant meeting a lot of people very quickly, including none other than Martin Luther King Jr. He and the Kennedys have worked closely together during Jack’s presidency, and since Coriolanus was leading the polls, the man decided it was time to meet the striking blonde politician to discuss some things.

✲ You and MLK Jr.’s wife, Coretta, chat at the dinner the Kings had set up while the two men wander off to talk privately. She asks you if you have thought about having children as of yet, and you sigh with a knowing smile, “We’ve been thinking about it.”

✲ It’s been a thing for the media and just about everyone to ask when you and Coriolanus were having kids. You felt pressure, but Coriolanus assured you that you could wait until you were ready. 

✲ The day after your dinner with the Kings, the names of the women who are the face of the Women’s Revolution are splattered across news outlets everywhere due to their march in Washington. Katniss Everdeen and Lucy Gray Baird Lead America’s Women!

✲ Coriolanus is bombarded with questions everywhere he’s seen. But he says to wait until the debate for any further comments about the matter. You worry about the escalation of the movement but decide to keep to yourself about it. Even though you’re nearly finished with your higher education, you’re still a woman, so your opinion doesn’t matter much politically at the moment. 

✲ The debate comes and goes, with Coriolanus still leading the polls. It seems this election is secured for him so far. However, some of the major events happening right now are bothering him, so he decides to pay Jack a visit in the White House, you tagging along, of course. Coriolanus asks him how he managed to make decisions during the Bay of Pigs invasion and during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

✲ “There are going to be difficult times, Coriolanus. But don’t let it scare you. In fact, let it inspire you to work harder to make a change.” 

✲ Coriolanus is more sure of himself after that. November comes around, and to no one’s surprise, Coriolanus wins the 1964 Election by a large margin, with Sejanus Plinth as his Vice President. 

✲ The first year is hard, but it is for every president. You eventually finish your research on Jack and present your work, earning your hard-earned diploma. You are now a doctor in political science. Everyone is extremely proud, including your fellow Americans. They beg the question of what you’re to do with your accomplishments if women don’t have the same opportunities as men. To which you answer, “We shall figure that out soon.” You are certain Coriolanus will go through with his promises.

✲ 1966 comes around the corner almost menacingly. Tensions are high- riots break out in the streets over economic trouble, and women are growing tired of the poor treatment of their employers. Bobby and MLK Jr. seem to fuel the fire when they speak out against the violence in the streets, saying there’s a better way to get the point across. 

✲ Jack falls ill and ends up in the hospital in late February. Coriolanus puts meetings and speeches on hold, clearing the entire week out of duties to visit Jack. You are by his side as he watches his best friend suffer. The family comes back together to take care of Jack. You try your best to console Jackie as she’s beside herself with worry. 

✲ “I don’t think he’s going to pull out of this one, darling,” Jackie frowns, “He isn’t young and isn’t able to bounce back like he used to. I’m afraid this is it.” You assure Jackie her husband will be fine, but you aren’t so sure. The pneumonia doesn’t seem to be resolving itself.

✲ A week after Jack is admitted to the hospital, he dies. Coriolanus and Bobby are on one side of his bed, Jackie and the kids on the other as Jack takes his last breath. You hold yourself together as long as possible until you and Coriolanus eventually return to the White House. When you settle in your room for privacy, you lose it. You burst into tears as you picked up and tossed anything readily available next to you across the room. 

✲ Coriolanus pulls you into his arms, trying to calm you to the best of his ability. Both of you cry together over losing a friend. A friend who happened to bring the two of you together in life and love. 

✲ More tragedy strikes the family. Bobby holds a convention to speak out in favor of women’s rights, but only under one condition- that the rioting stops. This angers many, causing a fight to break out and eventually, shots are fired. One was aimed directly at Bobby’s head. He doesn’t survive.

✲ You knew Bobby’s wife, Ethel, very well, and you and Jackie are there for her in her time of need. The Kennedy family is in shambles at this point. Everyone seems to think that the women from the movement are responsible for assassinating Bobby, but no one has proof. It isn’t until August that someone is held responsible.

✲ Martin Luther King Jr. Shot in Memphis is across every headline around the world. Yet another significant figure is brought down. Yet another friend is murdered. Yet another wife is to be consoled by other women who have been in her shoes, losing a husband suddenly. You aren’t sure what to think anymore.

✲ The radical members of the Women’s Revolution refuse to take sole responsibility for the assassinations, but some are arrested for conspiracy anyway. Many suspect Katniss Everdeen or Lucy Gray Baird as the masterminds of the plots.

✲ With the darkness of the world growing as each day passes, you don’t realize you’ve missed your period. When you do, you figure it’s from the stress of losing dear friends. But Coriolanus urges you to go to the doctor anyway.

✲ In December 1966, you find out you are pregnant. You decide, no matter the gender, their name is to be Kennedy, after your dear friends you’ve lost.

✲ The First Lady being pregnant is a beacon of hope for the nation in its darkest hour. Everyone waits patiently for you to start showing and to find out what gender the baby is. 

✲ Coriolanus decides to be bold and requests to do a motorcade through D.C. to lift the spirits of the people. The Secret Service is weary but obliged to Coriolanus’ wishes. 

✲ When in the motorcade, you clutch Coriolanus’ hand nervously. “Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles in your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.” You stare at your husband for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. He effortlessly smiles, his eyes twinkling in unbridled pride- a rare emotion you see from him. Sure, he has his moments of pride, but not like this. The last time he looked this happy was the day he married you. 

✲ It’s been hard for Coriolanus, you’ve noticed. Juggling the presidency while losing those close to him. But you think today has helped more than you possibly could have, especially since you’ve been grieving, too. 

[mynameisnotthepoint]

So yesterday, I binged Love in the big city. I had read the book, and as I am wont to do, i skimmed through to get back to the episodes and really sit down and watch them later (hopefully in small increments over the next two weeks).

I have been scrolling around on twitter since then (as one does, I am sick in bed with nothing to do but an assignment I don't have the brain power for right now) and really made me think.

First, I looked at international fans' reactions in English e.g. a gay guy I follow who parties a lot and talks openly about his sex life said it felt real, another guy kept complaining about Go Young's taste in men but also the people who watched it for the romance and only focused on that (and the sex scenes, which have racked up 100.000s of views). Some excitedly writing about how handsome the actors were, how they wanted to see a second season, a shame about this or that plot point (the "endgame" not being there). And as @lurkingshan said, it is NOT a romance drama or even a BL drama. This is a chronicle of one's man's life and his trauma, his relationships and his triumphs.

A lot of English-writing commentors praise the actors for their bravery. And that is always the debate, isn't it? Without them taking the role, this thing might not have been made. But the people behind it, who wrote, filmed, assisted, the writer who is a gay man himself, they all had such high stakes too, even higher (the author kept urging people on twitter to give the drama high views, one of the actors offered free hugs and an eating live stream if they managed to trend at no. 1). The drama is a depiction of a queer person's life as it could happen. Taking on this role, playing the part and then leaving it behind, is that as brave as people who live this life every day? Not to say that none of the actors in this production could be queer, bc some probably are.

One of the people i follow on twitter pointed out this feels like the drama shows queer sex, not sensationalised sex, just, that sex is a part of life so it is depicted in a series that is about life. With reading that, I began to wonder what queer koreans were saying about the series. Thanking the fact that google translate has not yet dropped their support of X, formerly twitter, I began by searching up Nam Yoon Su's name in Korean. A lot of people were calling him handsome, saying they cried about his performance. And then I stumbled upon several things:

1. The club scenes/music they used seems outdated to some Korean queers. They wrote that this feels more like a man in his 30s reminiscing his 20s than someone actually in their 20s, which, fair, the drama is told over the span of like 10 years I believe. Also the commentors thought the dancing was bad. But they said, even if some of it felt not true to gay life/the actors couldn't completely sell it as believable, that the drama was important and shouldn't be criticised too harshly.

2. They were having a linguistic debate about the usage of Korean gay slang (i think it was the word 기갈, but I could be wrong bc my Korean vocabulary is like 30 words) and that it has come into vogue with straight girls who go to gay bars, as Mi Ae does in the drama. In a way, it is a risk bringing a subculture that is/was quite closed to the mainstream (I think similar critiques have been made about drag race).

3. That the drama was not reaching its intended audience (queers) and was instead something for straight BL fans to screech over. It does feel kind of weird that something that veers more into raw territory (if you disregard the casting of Nam Yoon Su, who is super pretty and not at all like Young was described in the book), is treated the same as the stylised/trope-ified human experiences we see in some BLs (nothing wrong with those! Media is in its essence always a distillation of an experience),

I think that there is always a risk of depicting something that is close to the way actual individuals experience it and running into voyeuristic territory, on display for millions of people. Is it weird to want people to take this more seriously? To look at it in depth, treat the characters like humans that could actually be living out there and not Ken dolls you can mash together? Or is that too reductive of me, dictating what other people's experience with media should look like?

These are just my initial thoughts, I need to ruminate on them more, and I could be completely wrong about all of this.

I myself rarely go outside and have not had many queer IRL friends, which is why I am drawn to these series. To be honest, I don't even know the local queer slang bc I have been to the queer bar here once before it closed down due to internal disputes. Reading Love in the big city made me feel like i was hit with a sledgehammer, the series makes me want to go out and live again (once I am feeling up to it).

[artdcnaldson]

UGH terrible, i just knew tumblr ate it. i had a feeling. deeply upsetting. but i will try to rewrite and remember what i was thinking.

prodigy au thoughts:

okey so i think he contains himself through dinner and brings you back to your hotel. he manages to keep himself from making a move, despite the fact that your eyes are BEGGING him to kiss you. he doesnt give in. the next day youre playing another match, but you remember what he was telling you about improving your backhand, youre following his advice. he can tell from his seat in the stands, he can see how much better it is when youre doing as he told you to. youre such a fast learner, he didnt even have to show you, you figured it out just from his instructions. he feels so proud of you. he also feels very turned on over how eagerly you follow his lead. makes his mind wander to what else you would do, if he asked you to...

you win the match, naturally. he knew you would, especially with your new and improved technique. it almost feels like deja vu, the way he's being lead backstage to congratulate you, still semi-hard from watching you the whole match. he swears your skirt is even shorter than the one yesterday. but this time you come running up to him and jump into him arms. you're spurting praise and thank yous at him, he's so amazing, and he was so right, and did you see how good i was? he barely has a chance to get a word in. even then he wouldnt be able to think straight enough to know what to say. youre still hanging on him, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala to a tree, his hand on your ass to keep you from falling. he has to hold you up higher on his waist so you wont feel his hard-on pressing against you. so he wont cum in his pants from just feeling your pussy against him.

he invites you to dinner again, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible before the tournament is over. you spend the whole evening raving about him, talking about his career as if he wasnt there for the entirety of it. he thinks its very cute, how you look at him like hes a god. hes getting off on it way too much, he insists that you stay for dessert, exclusively because his boner is just far too obvious for him to be standing up right now.

he knows youre going to ask before you even get the first syllable out, and hes fully ready to shoot you down and tell you that hes just not ready to get back into a game he only just left behind. your eyes are already pleading him to say yes before the question is even out, all big and round and adoring. he cant help but imagine that it must be how youd look begging for his cock... he almost gives in before you even have the chance to beg him, before youve even asked. god he really is a weak man, but he's never had someone look at him, worship him, like this before, he would do anything to keep you like this. so he only puts up a little fight when you ask him to coach you. he knows he'll give in, but he cant help but make you feel like hes doing you a huge favor. its wrong of him, to further the, already huge, power imbalance between you. but he cant help himself, and he knows you dont mind. he agrees to coach you until wimbledon (a few months away), he's well aware that he'll gladly keep coaching you after as well, but its more fun this way to pretend you owe him a big thanks.

and you do feel like you owe him everything, before your sessions you were a great player. but after just a few sessions your game isnt just great anymore, its effortless. he's quick to teach you not just the physical technique but the mental work that truly separates your game from the one in the past. the professional facade you two had been putting up is over the second you start training on his person courts at his house. the second he invites you over to his house you know exactly how you want it to end. you show up in your usual short tennis skirt, but neglect to bring your usual shorts to wear under, and instead you opt for a brightly colored pair of lacy panties and a clear agenda. art gets hard as soon as hes helping you stretch and he catches the first of many glances of those bright pink panties. he nearly cums in his shorts when you call him coach with that sickly sweet smile, pretending you dont know exactly what youre doing. you dont even make it to any type of practice that day, because as soon as hes stretching your leg, his cock bruses against your pussy, and youre moaning obscenely. his resolve snaps that instant and he cant hold himself back from pushing you panties to the side and eating your cunt right there on the court...and then fuck your face against the back his couch...and then fuck you silly in his bed... all day long. he just cant get enough of you.

i think when he fucks her he really gets off on the power imbalance, on being the one in control after lacking control for so much of his life. he revels in being the better knowing, the one who holds the answers and is being looked up to. the way you hang on to his every word like its your gospel, the way you look to him like he's your god, begging him to answer your prayers. it makes him dizzy with lust, it makes him fuck in a way he never has before. with tashi she was the one in control, she knew what she wanted and expected him to fulfill her wishes. and he did. but you, you would do anything to make him happy, you disregard your own pleasure to ensure his. he never lets you go without, but even if he did you wouldnt care. you get off on his pleasure in a way he didnt know was possible. he swears one time you came just from him fucking your face, true devotion.

i think when he's fucking her, hes really bullying his cock into her pussy. shes so tight around him, he almost wants to ask if shes sure shes not a virgin, even though hes fucked her at least 100 times and she wasnt one when they met. he loves to talk during sex, how tight her young little pussy is (shes like 20-something, but hes thirty-five and tashi hasnt fucked him in years, so her pussy feels like heaven on earth), how good she is for him, how shes a little groupie slut, how lucky she is to be fucked by him. her attention had truly grown his ego to an unhealthy size, but they both love it. she brings out a side of him that's almost more like patrick... at least sexually.

took me a hot minute to recraft this lol, and its probably way too long (being concise is not a skill of mine, clearly), hope you like it pookie!!!

-🐞

YUMMMMMM all of this has me rubbing my dirty little hands together

Because your devotion is so sweet, so earnest. Art Donaldson has been at the center of your vision boards since you were sixteen, for a myriad of reasons. And now there he is— across from you on the court, making you run for drop shot after drop shot. A weak point he’d noticed at your last match.

You’re dripping sweat— soaked in it so it’s sheering your practice clothes. Your skin glistens in the unrelenting sun, your hair sticks damp to the back of your neck.

You know you’re a little pathetic around him, how your heart races whenever he gives you a pointer, how you live bouncing on your toes waiting for him to compliment you. But you ache for that validation, for your hero to shine a bit of that light on you.

He’s making you better— he’s making you perfect. Your ranking has shot up steadily, they’ve been saying you’re a contender for wimbledon on the tennis channel.

You wanted it. Of course you did. But you wanted it for Art too.

His skin is tinged pink after the day in the sun, and you watch him intently as he runs through more places you can improve. Your gaze softens as you listen, until he realizes you’re distracted by him. It makes a tiny smile twitch at his lips as you walk back to the house.

“How’re you feeling? Sore?”

You shrug. “My hips feel a little tight,” you reply, your gaze all soft. “Can you help me stretch?”

That’s how you wind up on your back on his massage table, the one that was collecting dust until you moved into the guest house.

One of his hands warm on your thigh holding it down, the other on your knee, bending you slowly until your knee touches your chest.

He’s so strong above you, so domineering. You exhale a shaky little breath, eyes locked on his.

“C’mon, hold it a little longer,” he says, his voice more like a coo. “Feels good?”

You nod, try to ignore the rush of arousal in your core at how close you are. He brings your leg back down, pats the side of your thigh affectionately.

He’s holding you closer as he stretches out your other leg. His hand higher up on your thigh to hold you down as he presses your knee up to your chest. A desperate little whimper escapes you when you feel him— hard and pressing against your cunt.

“Hold it,” he says, and you exhale shaky and nervous. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he presses harder against you. “That’s it. Good girl.”

You’re wearing the cutest little panties— pale blue cotton with a frilly lace edge. He’d caught tiny glimpses of them on the court, wondered where the usual shorts you wore with your tennis skirts were.

But he understands now, up close. His thumb brushes against the wet spot at your core, where your juices had saturated the fabric. You whine on the table. Embarrassment makes you itch to close your legs, but aching hot desire makes you keep them open for him.

“Art—“ you gasp. He can feel your cunt pulsing, twitching for him beneath the thin fabric. His thumb brushes against your clit and you moan softly. “I’m all— so sweaty—“

He pulls you to the edge of the table by your ankles, sinks to his knees. “Gonna take care of you. How can you focus on the court if you’re so needy, huh?”

Your panties are pulled down your legs, tossed somewhere to be forgotten about until they’re found by his cleaning staff, laundered, and returned to you.

His tongue is on you in an instant, lapping at your slick cunt. He puts your legs over his shoulders, nuzzles as close as he can get. He moans at the taste— of salty, sweaty skin, of tangy arousal. He could lose himself in you— I mean, god, you’re already writhing and moaning like a pornstar just from his tongue. Getting off on him as much as you’re getting off on what he’s doing.

And god, you’d jerked off to fantasies like this since he agreed to coach you. Thoughts of Art’s mouth, of him wanting you so desperately. Your fingers are in his hair, mussing up his sweaty hair.

His lips seal around your clit, suckling until your breaths turn into fucked-out sobs. Until you’re reduced to whines of Art and oh fuck and god, yes and please please please.

He’s so good at everything— so perfect— you should’ve known he’d be good at pleasing you. It would’ve been impossible for him not to be. Barely any effort, and you’re already right on the edge.

He draws out your orgasm like it belongs to him. And it does, really, everything you are belongs to him. He kisses your thigh, gently.

You sit up on your elbows, your entire body running hot with lust. “Let me,” you say, sweetly, obediently.

He swallows, shakes his head. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager, high off of the unfettered need you held for him. But he wasn’t going to let you know that. “Not this time,” he said, so you didn’t take it as an outright rejection. “Maybe after you get your serves to 110.”

You nod, eager like an obedient puppy— a dog with a bone. He knows you’d do anything he asks just to please him when he hears you on the courts, slamming balls across the net, desperate to improve.

[mclarengf]

thinking about… max verstappen taking care of you when you’re drunk

note: this blurb came to me as i was taking my makeup off after my bday celebrations yesterday and then i was like ‘good golly, imagine if i had a hot f1 bf here with me rn’ and at first i thought alex but thats soooo obvious so here’s wee maxypoos

---

you’re really drunk. max is well aware of this fact.

the two of you are halfway up the stairs. your arm is slung across max’s back; he is holding your heels in one hand and supporting you with the other.

he’d offered to swap shoes with you properly, eyeing your heels in the club and stating that he could probably fit in them. max is also drunk, of course, but he’s higher-functioning than you, which is why he’s in charge now.

it’s your birthday though, and max isn’t one to prematurely put an end to your celebrations, or let you wake up the next day complaining about your drunken uselessness, so actually, half the blame is on him too.

jimmy meows at you both condescendingly as you pass him, sat in front of your bedroom door. sassy had greeted you when you first came stumbling into the house, then ran off to avoid being trod on accidentally.

when you arrive in the bathroom, max sits you on the edge of the tub, trusting you enough to at least keep your balance here.

he pulls open the drawer under the sink and you hear bottles clink as they’re turned and fiddled with, max trying to read each label.

“here, close your eyes.”

he finally turns around with a wet cotton pad in his hand, pushing his sleeves up as he steps towards you. drunk you still has enough wits to have doubts about max’s capabilities, but you’re so tired, and it’ll probably still be easier for him to fuck up and then fix it, than for you to poke your eye out cause you fell asleep halfway through wiping off your mascara.

when he finally presses the cotton pad to your skin, he’s gentler than you’d expected. his thumb pushes your eyebrow up to pull your eyelid tauter so your makeup remover doesn’t find its way into your eyeball, and he’s quick to catch any drips that do potentially threaten your vision.

once he’s done with that eye, he moves onto the other, repeating each step just as carefully as before, slow movements picking up all the eye makeup he had watched you apply only a couple hours earlier. you don’t know if max realises, but he’s singing something under his breath as he goes. it’s really nice, a comforting tune. you must have heard it before somewhere, but your drunk mind doesn’t entirely care enough to dwell on the question.

you hum at him when he asks if you’re still awake, and tell him not to bother with trying to replicate your whole nighttime routine, because all you want now is sleep.

he finishes your pampering by misting your face lightly and holding your chin up as he applies your lip balm, “all done, schatje.”

“thank you, baby,” you mumble, leaning up towards him for a kiss, “mm, love you so much.”

max decides to leave your shoes in the bathroom to be tomorrow’s problem, and leads you back to your bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. jimmy’s already slipped in through the crack; turning the ceiling light on reveals he’s found a new hiding spot on top of the dresser.

he’s happy to unzip you and help you step out of your dress, and even happier to see you pull one of his shirts over your head to sleep in. max loves all the small things that show you’re his; wearing his clothes, driving his cars, trusting him to always get you home safely.

“did you have fun today?” he asks, once you’re both in bed and he’s reaching over to turn the light off.

you nod sleepily.

“thank you for surprising me. that was really nice of you, maxie.”

he wraps an arm around you and settles your head on his chest. your legs are twisted together underneath the sheets, as they always are; his free hand starts running through your hair absentmindedly.

“did you see when daniel was dancing on the table? it was very funny. i will show you the video tomorrow,” he promises, “and then we can make fun of him together.”

max’s lisp is more prominent when he’s had a few, all his sibilants bunching up at the front of his mouth. you tell him this, semi-coherently.

he laughs, and then whispers for you to go to sleep.

“happy birthday, liefje.”

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

Miss Manager gets her Period

Team Japan x female reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: period talk, swearing, blood mentioned, period symptoms (cramps, vomiting, bloating, etc)

A/N: I need comfort right now, feel free to ignore

Honestly you should have seen the warning signs YN

But somehow you missed the notification from your period tracking app

You missed the sighs of being extremely tired, moody and just down right agitated

You cried for no reason the other day and it still didn’t register

I mean, it’s not like you are busy or anything

You are the team manager for Team Japan after all

Probably the one of the worlds most dangerous jobs

But also super rewarding 😌

You’ve been the teams manager for a few months now

And you’ve definitely had your period before during practice

But this, this was completely different

You see, never has your period fully started right in the middle of practice

And certainly not with this much vigor 😬

Let’s just say, you aren’t on birth control at all

But you also never really needed it

Because as shitty as birth control can be sometimes, it can be very helpful

Anyways, it was a normal Friday morning and you woke up feeling… off

Like just blah

Honestly you didn’t think much of it because the Olympics were a month away

Which meant that the boys were on edge

Practices were lasting hours and downtime was limited

Not to mention you were dealing with more Bokuto Emo modes than normal and more tantrums from Atsumu and Kageyama

Basically the fatigue and blah feeling wasn’t unwarranted

You checked the mirror, noticing you had a small acne flare up on your jaw

You sighed, putting some coverup on it before heading out

On your way to the gym, you stopped to grab you and the coaches coffee

A typically Friday routine you had developed

Walking into the gym, the sound of volleyballs hit your ears

As well as the agitating, grating voices of those hitting said volleyballs 😒

You barely hit the door when it starts

“YNS HERE!!” Hinata screams

“YN please tell me you finished the laundry yesterday, we ran out of fresh towels and I only have 5 stashed away!”Sakusa chimes in

“YN please help tape my fingers,” Hakuba adds

“YN you promised you’d measure our jump heights today too! I have to show Hinata that I can get higher!” Hoshiumi shouts

“YN do you have that extra nail files? I left my kit at home,” Kageyama says

“YN I need you to toss for me because these other idiots can’t do it like you do!” Atsumu whines

Literally it’s like walking into a daycare but with giant volleyball players 😅

“Guys give me like 5 minutes please!” You shout, walking over to the coaches and handing them their coffee before stomping to your office

“Is Yn ok?” Coach asks as the assistant coach shrugs

You just need a minute to breathe, that’s all you need

Too bad you work with people who don’t understand the idea of “needing a minute to breathe”

*knock knock*

You groan as your door open and Iwaizumi appears

Please, you don’t even want to see Iwa today

Damn YN you ok 👀

“Iwa what?” You say a little annoyed

“Damn, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? I just came to give you the training schedules,” Iwa said as you sighed and took them

“Sorry Iwa, I’m just feeling off I didn’t meant it,” you said as Iwa nodded

“It’s cool Yn but maybe drink that coffee or something to help?” He says as you sigh and sit down

You manage to drink approximately 1 sip before Aran is at your door

“YN hey! I was hoping we could go over some plays?” He said as you resigned yourself to the fact that today just isn’t your day

A few hours in, you get ready for the team meeting

Your walking through the gym when the first cramps hit

“Ohh ouch!” You whince as you grab your side

“YN, you good?” Komori asks, noticing immediately

“Yeah I think I’m fine,” you say

“You know Yn, when my tummy’s upset, I go to the brathroom and it helps a lot!” Hinata says as Kageyama rolls his eyes

“Hinata nobody knows more about the bathroom than you do!” He says as Hinata glares at him

“I’m sure I’m fine, it’s almost lunch anyways. I think I just need to eat,” you say

You grab your lunch, sitting with the few mature memebers of the team

The VERY FEW

Aran, Hyakuzawa, Iwaizumi, Komori, Yaku and occasionally Sakusa, if he’s not on one 🙄

Anyways, as your finishing lunch, you stand up and it happens

You rn 👉🏻🧍‍♀️😐😳

The fear in your eyes 😅 trust me YN, we’ve all been there

“Yn you good?” Aran asks as Iwa and Hyakuzawa look at you

“Umm I think my period just started,” you say

Now the fear in your eyes has transferred to their eyes 👁️👄👁️

Please Yn, nothing is off limits with these guys

They talk about bodily functions daily and some of them have sisters, so like they aren’t clueless to what a period is

Before they can even say anything you RUN to the bathroom, and sure enough

“Dammit!” You scream as everyone in a 20 mile radius hears you

“Uhhh Yn, you good?” Yaku asks, knocking on the door to the bathroom

“Yeah but uhh I don’t have a tampon, can you grab me one form my desk?” You asks as Bokuto runs to your office

At this point, they’ve all come to the bathroom hallway and it’s like a team effort to help you 😂

Team bonding if you will

“Crap there isn’t any in here!” Bokuto shouts as Atsumu runs to tell you

“Yn Bo said there isn’t any in your desk!”

“Shit, check my bag!” You scream

“Check her bag bo!” Hakuba shouts

“Nothing!” Bokuto shouts back

“Fuck!” You say, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll definitely need to make a makeshift toilet paper pad

“YN do you want me to run to the corner store?” Hinata asks

“Would you please? I’m not really looking to make a toilet paper pad,” you said as Hinata nodded

“Wait what’s a ‘toilet paper pad’?” Atsumu asks

“YN send Hoshiumi a picture of the tampons you use and we will go!” Hinata shouts as Hoshiumi and him race out

“Is anyone gonna answer my question?” Atsumu says, annoyed

“Idiot she would have to shove toilet paper in her underwear to stop the bleeding until she got a tampon or pad!” Yaku says

“Omg this toilet paper is so course and had like zero absorbency!” Atsumu shouts

“I know Sumu!! That’s why that’s not ideal!” You say

“YN do you need pain relievers?” Iwa asks

“If you have some, the cramps are getting bad,” you say as Iwa runs to his office

He grabs a heating pack and some pain relievers

He comes back just as Hinata and Hoshiumi return

“Damn that was like 7 minutes impressive!” Komori says

Hinata and Hoshiumi 👉🏻💅💅

“Here Yn, we got them!” Hinata says passing the pads into the bathroom

You manage to get yourself sorted, leaving some pads in the bathroom as you exit

You come out of the bathroom and are greeted with a forest 🌳

“Uhh hey guys?” You say as Iwa hands you the heating pack and some pain relievers

“Are you ok YN?” Bokuto asks 🥺

You just laugh

“I’ll be fine guys, I deal with this every month but I’ll admit, I was a little surprised this time!” You said

“Ok well I think it’s time we get back to work,” Aran says

“I’m super hyped up right now!” Hinata says as him and Hoshiumi race back to the gym

“Is anyone surprised?” Iwa says

“I’m actually surprised they managed to handle the task of getting tampons for Yn,” Yaku interjects

“This isn’t Hinata’s first time dealing with this, he does have a little sister,” Kageyama added

“And Hoshi?” Hakuba says

“He probably just wanted to race Hinata,” you laugh

“Ok guys, let’s go! Yn go sit down and out that heating pad on!” Iwa orders

“Iwa I’m fine-” you argue

“YN I wouldn’t argue with Iwa if I were you,” Sakusa interjects

“Yeah he’s super scary when he gets mad!” Kageyama shivers

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!?” Iwa yells as you all stiffin

Aye aye captain 🫡

[fritz-federleicht]

Daisies/ Four x reader

Summary: you take photos together

Words: 808

FLUFF

Image isn't from me

"Can you take a picture of me and Y/N?"

You hear your name and look up. Your masked boyfriend IV talks to the band photographer Mick.

"If Y/N wants to." The two men turn to you. You nod hesitantly and rise.

"So that's it for today?" II asks the photographer. Actually, only band photos for promotional purposes were to be taken outdoors today. Mick nods in agreement.

II follows Vessel and III. The two didn't wait for Mick's response, but simply decided the photo shoot was over. The small group walks in your direction.

"Have fun Y/N." Says III kindly as he's only a few meters away from you. His tone tells you he's smiling under his mask.

You watch as II suddenly picks up speed and jumps on III's back, almost attacking him. The tall skinny man gives a startled grunt and almost falls over. He just barely manages to put his hands in II's knee bends to keep him in place. You walk past the three of them, laughing.

Then you look at IV. He stretches his hand in your direction. You walk a little faster and grab it.

"How do you want the photos?" Mick asks.

"You get to decide, my love." IV squeezes your hand. You look into his beautiful ocean blue eyes. An idea pops into your head.

"How about you just take a picture of our eyes." You look back and forth between the two grown men. "So that just barely one half of our faces is visible. We can just lie down in the grass." You look at Mick, waiting.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I can do anything. You just have to say what you want."

"Okay, what do you say?" You turn to IV.

His eyes are full of enthusiasm. "That's a good idea."

So after you decide on this position you go to a green meadow, it's overflowing with white daisies. You lie down between them.

IV settles down next to you and leans on his elbows. You grin and look at his face that is now hovering over you.

"The flowers make you shine." He reaches out a hand and caresses your cheek. "So pretty."

Your face heats up.

"I hate to interrupt you, but I have to get to my next client soon." Mick interrupts you.

"Sorry man." IV lies down in the grass. He moves as close to you as he can. Your cheeks touch.

"I'm going to stand over you. Just look at the camera." Orders Mick, he now has his camera in his hand.

He leans over you and takes photos. Then he leans back and stops. "Perfect. Thank you both."

IV helps you stand up. Then you walk with intertwined hands to the other members.

A day later, III writes you a message.

"The photos turned out so cute."

You write back. "What photos?"

"From yesterday. Haven't you seen the pictures yet? IV posted some on Instagram."

Immediately, you open Instagram. And in fact, he posted two pictures of the two of you.

In the first pic only your eyes are visible. The small cutout of his black mask make his blue eyes stand out even more than they already do. But that's nothing compared to your eyes. They compete with his.

You swipe to the side. The second image is shot from a higher angle. Your face is visible up to your nose. You're sure his fans still can't recognize you.

Daisies grow at the edge of this photo, they surround your profile and contrast with the mask from IV.

But what immediately catches your eye is a black spot on your cheek. It must be from IV when he touched you.

You grin and read the caption.

'My little flower, your beauty will never fade, as will my love for you. I will forever be your water and the earth under your feet.'

It's unbelievable what these few lines trigger in you. Your belly fills with butterflies.

"Baby?" You call into the apartment.

"I'm here!"

You walk into the room IV's currently in. There is a big smile on your face. "I love you too." Your legs automatically lead to him.

His confused expression turns into a smile after he understands what you are talking. about "You like it?"

"Do I like it?" You ask, putting your arms around his neck. "Absolutely." You lean over and kiss his lips. "I found out through III. He likes the pictures. He thinks they're beautiful."

IV wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you again. "They're only beautiful because you're on them, my love." He whispers against your lips.

Your legs get weak. If he hadn't held you in his arms, this sentence would have made you fall to the ground.