#ive been testing a lot of brushes lately

[milkbreadtoast]

brush tests + practice doodle (wip)...

[count-geiger]

haven’t posted any art on here in a GRIP but i’ve been drawing quite a lot recently and i drew this in procreate to test out some new brushes. i’ve been majorly hyperfixated on lupin the third lately so that’s most of what ive been drawing. follow my lt3 sideblog if you want to see A. more posts and B. more lupin posts. but you’ll definitely be getting lupin on main from here on out

i’m gonna try and start actually posting on here some more, because why not. i like talking out into a void

[lagomorphics]

hi i hope this isnt weird to ask but i dont know who else to ask this to so

how do i stay positive about my art? or at least not hate it? and how did you get into painting because i want to try that but i dont think im good at art enough to do that

dw anon this isn't weird in the slightest LMAO very normal compared to some other things i've gotten in my inbox

"stay positive" is tricky because well. puts my hand on ur shoulder. ur not gonna 100% always be positive about ur own art. and thats like. well its fine. everyone gets frustrated and mad at their own craft, even if they absolutely adore it. sometimes theres a piece that frustrates you beyond belief; it's not the being positive u gotta look out for, its realising When ur getting to that point of frustration, and pulling back. if ur working on a piece and its going all wrong? pull away, stop lookin at it and take a break !!

(also theres a difference between "i should scrap this and start over" and "i just need to take a break", i dont have a solid answer for where the line is but if a piece is repeatedly giving me grief? even after ive had a break? yeah time to hit the bricks)

for hating ur own art. see to me, this one is personal and i dont think theres a cure-all tip that'll help? but i can tell you right now: allowing urself to get frustrated, And negatively talking about your own art does you zero favours. curbing those might not be the fix but it'll help; point out things you like! things you thought you did well! test out new brushes and experiment and see what you like to do and do it some more!

in terms of painting: okay well see the thing is. i dont know? i've been on and off painting digitally for years, never really got into it until late last year where i just. randomly decided i wanted to give it a shot (scary!). but it was a lot of fun to do and i enjoy the process WAY more than i enjoy fiddling with lineart. and!!! none of that negative talk. give it a go! see how u like it!! (do some fun studies as well, studying gives you something u can be proud of because its something ur learning)

hope all is well anon i may not have like. this-will-absolutely-work advice but i do have personal experience !

[crippleprophet]

so im going to the doctor in 2 days (i go on the 30th and im writing this on the 28th) and im physically disabled, and this is the first time ive gone to the doctor since late 2019 when i caught covid, and the doctor im going to is our old pcp's son, and our old pcp constantly brushed my dad off and i have all the same stuff as him and m o r e, so i need advice on how to not get brushed off since im 14 and my dads side has a past of drug seeking and shit. ive already made a list of all my symptoms but other than that i straight up dont know what to do

oh, god, i’m so sorry. my medical neglect journey started at 16 (aside from psychiatrization starting at 14) & i had no language for what i was going through so this ask really makes my heart ache, for you & my past self. on the one hand, you knowing to expect & prepare for this kind of shit puts you leagues ahead of where i was at your age; on the other, no amount of understanding the systemic ableism behind your pcp’s behavior will erase the pain & trauma of not being believed.

here’s some general appointment prep i do + other advice, as always with the caveat that i am Just Some Guy on the internet & you know your circumstances best:

think about the narrative you want to craft. i’ve got a primer on how to lie to doctors if that’s the route you want to take. try to group things by category (autoimmune symptoms together, neurological symptoms at a separate point in the conversation, etc) without saying that that’s what you’re doing to like set up the paint by numbers for him & hope he picks up the brush.

in that vein, lead with the symptom you want to prioritize. doctors are trained to build a diagnosis around the “chief complaint,” so burying the lede—or even listing it second—is more likely to get those symptoms ignored.

in addition to listing symptoms themselves: when they started, frequency/duration, intensity, how it impacts your daily life. framing things through the lens of “i want to be a good little normative student but X keeps making it difficult to do Y” usually goes over better.

if a supportive adult will be with you, talk to them about what you’re going to say & at what point you’d theoretically want them to intervene / push back against the doctor’s response, & how so.

determine your goals for the appointment. do you want a referral to a particular specialist? certain testing to be done? a prescription for a particular medication? the more you’ve thought about what you want out of it, the easier it is to advocate for that outcome.

ask leading questions, invoke other authorities, & act like you don’t know shit. for example, if i was trying to get bloodwork of an ANA panel from my rheumatologist, i’d be like, “my pcp was really concerned about this face rash that i’ve been having along with my joint pain, he said there’s some sort of blood test to check if it’s, like, lupus or something?”

do your research, but never ever mention that you have. if you’ll have an adult with you & this would be a safe conversation to have / they’d listen to you, it’s worth mentioning to them that a lot of doctors get dismissive when patients mention having googled symptoms.

this post on finding + navigating specialists might be relevant, especially if you want to get a referral or try to find a new pcp (obv decisions affected by insurance or lack thereof, whether your parents are supportive, etc)

i’ve also got this post about coping with medical neglect & trauma if you want to plan for / set up any of those coping mechanisms in advance.

i really want you to know that no matter how your appointment goes, your disabilities & symptoms are real, & you deserve quality, compassionate, comprehensive healthcare. unfortunately, under an ableist healthcare system it’s impossible to earn our way out of medical neglect—fucking tragically, doing everything “right” at an appointment doesn’t mean we’ll get taken seriously—& equally, folks who don’t know or bother to play this bullshit game are still just as deserving of care & shouldn’t be victim-blamed for neglect they’ve experienced.

i hope some of this is helpful! feel free to send a follow-up ask if there’s any other info or support i can provide. i’ll be thinking about you on the 30th & hope things go as well as possible 💓💓

[gingerbreadmonsters]

hiya! im a very big fan of ur fics, ur writing is like omnomnom!! i rerereread them so often ive basically memorised half of them (especially get in loser i love it so much especially the little almost asides freelancer has like certain moments where its like not quite breaking the fourth wall theyre like. brushing it with the tips of their fingers). IDK sorry to ramble but; may i request directors commentary on either kingdom come (why those four, of all people?) or one more paradox (incoherent wailing, from me). thanks!! have a nice timezone :]

im so sorry. IM SO SORRY ITS SO LATE 🫠🫠 i have not been well for a little while and i've been rushing around trying to get shit sorted for the start of term, so it's all just been a bit of a mess

i've done kingdom come for you - i do hope that's alright! and a lovely timezone to you, too 💕💕

why those four? to be totally honest, it’s just because they’re hot lol 🤩🤩 it is a long-held hc for me that gavin and vincent deserve to be besties, and the gn gals and i were chatting on discord about fl, gavin, lovely, and vincent going on a double date and all being so handsy with each other that it was impossible to tell who was actually going out with who?? so i just kind of jumped into a new google doc and mocked up a very short sequence based on that conversation, which ended up being used basically verbatim as the opening to kingdom come - it’s up to the bit where freelancer says “I think you can manage that, can’t you?”!

can’t lie, it was both more and less difficult than i expected? it was hard because obviously i couldn’t really describe freelancer or lovely’s bodies in detail - it’s hard enough with just one listener in the scene! plus, keeping track of four different people in something as descriptive and physical as a sex scene is always a nightmare. you have to keep track of (and describe!) what everyone is doing all at the same time without getting too repetitive, make sure that it’s clear who is doing/saying what (very complicated when two of them use he/him and have the same, uh, hardware, while the other two are in they/them and can’t have their bodies described basically at all), make sure that the positions you’re describing are physically possible and actually sexy… it’s a lot!

gavin and vincent are so fun to write, though, so that more than made up for it - both of them just seem to… talk? like, if any other fic writers are reading this, please do let me know if this also happens to you - but whenever i write them, they just spout dialogue like it’s going out of fashion, and i end up just being dragged along through the scene however they want, rather than how i planned it 😭😭 so yes it was tough, but a lot of fun to write - although i will say that there was a rather embarrassing incident regarding the dialogue [head in hands]

so, in order to make sure that my dialogue sounds at least faintly realistic and isn’t too stilted, i generally tend to read it out loud to myself? like, verbatim? hearing it in my own voice helps to figure out if it sounds too unnatural, which i am aware is also why sometimes my characters will say something that’s a bit too british for the source material, but whatever. 

the important part is that i was living in halls (student accommodation) when i was writing this fic, and the soundproofing on my door was… not excellent?? i had just finished ‘dialogue testing’ and opened the door to go and get a drink of water from the kitchen, when i ran face-first into one of my flatmates from the bedroom opposite mine, who had clearly been standing there waiting for a friend and had obviously just HEARD ME saying all of this… needless to say he did not make eye contact with me for some time after that and we do not keep in touch lmao 

all four of them make reference to the events of this fic being one of many, um, dalliances - this is really just because i think it sounds like the sort of thing they would do! they all seem like they would be good friends - you already know how i feel about gavin and vincent, and i reckon lovely and freelancer would get on like a house on fire. let them have a rapport! let them go on cute double dates and take holidays together and plan surprise parties for each other! this is my agenda! the whole vibe of this fic was intended to be satisfyingly filthy yet still very very sweet, and i think it works? i certainly hope it works? it is a CRIME that we have yet to have a canon audio with gavin and vincent together :((

[just-some-random-blogger]

I'm not the same person I was one fic ago

Edit: this is extremely long (like twice the length of your fic probably 💀) and unhinged and 75% incoherent but know I mean it all with love

FIRST OF ALL WHEN I STARTED READING THE FIRST LINES I WAS LIKE DAMN THIS IS GOOD then my eyes skimmed back into the a/n and I was like well fuck little to no dialogue 😔😔😔⚰️💀 my brain do be shutting off sometimes when I read little dialogue. Idk it be like that, that's why when I write I'm dialogue heavy (most of the time)

I DIGRESS MY POINT IS

IM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS ONE FIC AGO

This is a long ass reblog AND HONESTLY YEAH I DO THINK I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR REQUOTING YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING FIC BACK TO YOU BECAUSE

DAMN

I haven't felt a rush like this in so long.WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE YOU KNOW?! WHY KILL YOURSELF WHEN YOU CAN READ DAEMON FANFICTION ON TUMBLR FOR FREE

✨✨✨✨✨Free real estate✨✨✨✨✨

ig a minute sorry for the shit spamming reblog but you must know I do this out of love because I'm an unemployed fresh grad with no spare change and this is the only way I could ever pay you. I'd give you my hair if you asked I'd go bald for you

Ok this is getting weird

Did I say I really like this already? Idk I'm too lazy to go back and check also if my words/sentences are incoherent 😬 thank you for dealing with it because I will not be going back to check if I spelled and typed everything correctly we die like women

OK WAIT I GOT DISTRACTED I MEANT TO PREFACE THIS BY SAYING I DONT LIKE LIGHT DIALOGUE ON FICS COS IDK SOMETIMES MY BRAIN IS LIKE ENOUGH BACKGROUND GIMME THE ACTION but that's not what happened at all THE CHEMICALS IN MY BRAIN ARE SO ALIVE AND HAPPY WOW NOW I KNOW WHY IVE BEEN SO SAD LATELY ITS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T BEEN READING FICS

Idk it felt daunting and scary to do so ??? And tiring and I almost didn't read this because of that IDK MY BRAIN WAS LIKE DONT DO IT IT WONT BE FUN JUST GO TO A TRIED AND TESTED SOURCE BUT DAMN YOU DA SOURCE MY DEAR I AM A DESERT AND YOU ARE MY OASIS

Maybeeeeeeeeee you're gonna be the one that saves meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh

Ok that was a long enough preface, in coming my live (not so live) reaction

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

INSANE. AN INSANE OPENING.

Ok another sidenote, im on mobile and I can only add 10 pics 😔😔😔🤚 smh so I would add more mem reactions for you to vividly understand what and how I'm reacting but

🤚IN🤚SANE💅😩😖 literally just the first line, the first sentence.

WHAT SHE SAID WHATTTT 💥💥🎉🎉🤯🤯🤯🤯 THATS SOME BIG BRAIN LEVEL OPENINGS. SUCH A STRONG OPENING DAFAQ 😒 PACK IT UP EINSTEIN LEAVE SAME BRAIN CELLS FOR THE REST OF US. LIKE HUHHHHHH????????

JUST AGAIN THE OASIS TO MY DESERT UGH (you probably don't care but I used this analogy in one of my Kylo Ren fics and 😗☕👌 I ate that up tbh. I miss her. I miss her, who could write 11k shit fics of her favs 😔) IDK IDK JUST RANT I RANT A LOT IN MY FIC REBLOGS BECAUSE 💅💅💅💅 I HAVE NO FRIENDS LMAO AHHAAHHAHAHHA

🤬🤬🤬get used to it because you can't get rid of me.......... lol

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

NO CUZ THIS HADME SCREAAMMINNGGG HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHH SHE REALLY SAID 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 GET IT I GUESS WESTERNERS 🤮 DAFAQ

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

White people

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

RAHHH I DONT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT MY REACTION WAS TO THIS BUT IM WILLING TO BET IT WAS KICKING MY LEGS SCREAMING BLUSHING LIKE A CLOWN

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GIRL BOSS SLAYYYY GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS SLAYYY HER FATHER ATE ok tbh I don't remember my live reaction to this either but something to do with her father. Im pretty sure at this point you had my soul in your hands I was like this kid is great at writing (and I don't mean that in a oh I'm definitely older than you or condescending way but in like a memey 'hey this guy is good' way)

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

NOW I KNOW EXACTLY HOW I REACTED TO THIS. I WAS GIGGLING AND FROTHING INT HE MOUTH OVER HIS AGE LINES COS YEAH YEAH OK IM A LIL BITCH FOR IT HUH WHAT ABOUT IT SUE ME. In fact I was so distracted by it I didn't even realize there was a mention of viserys in this 💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚 HAAHHAHAAHAHAHHAH WE LOVE ME SOME GOOD OL ROTTING VISERYS SLANDERHAHHAHAAH IDK EVERYTIME ITS MENTIONED ITS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME LIKE I LOVE TO SEE IT HAHAAHHA

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

AIRYYY LANGUAGE 😩😩😩🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I LOVE THAT DESCRIPTION. Made me think of elvish/silmarillion/Sindarin lol even though I only know the lotr movies. Also it's such a slay, so fresh and clean to have them not speak the same language. UghHHHH SUCH VIG BRAIN. Also I love the sound of rhoynar. Just the name. No idea what the language sounds like IN FACT I SPENT THE ENTIRE FIC TRYNA GUESS WHAT BONDABIL OR WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT B WORD WAS MEANT

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND RAHHHHHHHH

He got me fucked up when he started teaching her. AND NIT EVEN COMMON TONGUE. HIGH VALYRIAN. ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ HIS presumably MOTHER TONGUE BITCH DAFAQ AITE IMMA HEAD OUT IT WAS ZO NICE KNOW ALL OF Y'ALL BYEEEE

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Bro mad that girls be winnin

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS RAHHHH. HER YES AND ERA (altho Ari be problematic) BUT SHE REALLY SAID 😒💅 ???? ITS TRUE???? 😗☕👌 WHAT ABOUT IT

You get no further lessons.

RAHHHHHH

JUST SO CONCISE. SO POWERFUL. AND DAEMON BE MAD AS FUCKKKK. SO PETTYYYYYY 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮 EWWWWWWWWW MENNNNNN

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

No cuz the speed in which I thought 'oh to be sold of to-' I really had to stop myself. I really had to take a moment and call myself out for THE SPEED the feminism left my body. NAH BUT THEN I WAS LIKE NO FUCK THAT IN THIS ECOMONY?????? IN OUR YEAR OF THE LORD 2024? TO A PRINCE??????? NAH CUZ AT LEAST HER DAD SOLD HER TO A PRINCE 🤚🤚🤚 YEAH IMMA SAY IT OH TO BE SOLD OFF TO A PRINCE IN THIS ECONOMY 😩😩😩✨✨💀💀⚰️⚰️

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

... I forgot again... But slay girlie get that dragon husband yipyip

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

This wasn't my honest reaction but 💀 Daemon kinda dumb for that. BUT YEAH MY HONEST REACTION IS STILL THE SAME WHY THE FUCK DID SHE POKE DAEMON HELLO????? IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS THAT A GOOD IDEA??? LIKE??? HELLO?? I GET HE WAS SCREAMING AT YOU BUT POKING???

Like you thought you ate with that?? Girl I get punching him, slapping him, SCREAMING BACK but poking????????

Ok your honor I've thought about it and I guess she didn't want to be violent cos hell yeah daemon would knock me out one punch man style but your honor in the moment it was just confusing and a really bad idea I stand by this GIRL

乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ u do I booo ok? I got it 😒☕👌

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

Rip lady rhea Royce, you would have loved women's suffrage

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

ARE WE ABOUT TO KISS RIGHT NOW

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO CUZ HE WAS LIKE 👹👹👹👹👹👹 IM SO SCARY IM GOING TO PRESS MY FACE REALLY CLOSE TO YOU yes yes irl it would be scary but 😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋 he's such a dummy baby girl

ALSO 👀👀👀👀 TOWARDS RHE BED???

Yes I'm a depraved daemon slut spray me with water all you want HISS HISS

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

RAHHHH OKAY THESE MIGHT BE OUT OF ORDER COS MY CLIPBOARD AND COPY PASTE DOESNT MALFUNTIONS SOMETIMES BUT RAHHHHHHHH YOU GO QUEEN CHEW HIS HEAD OFFF GRRR BARK BARK SHE LIKE ME FR I BARK AND SNARL TOO 😖😖😖😖👹👹👹

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

UGHHHHH RAHHH BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK YOUR HONOR I DONT KNWO WHAG ELSE TO SAY ITS SO DAEMN ITS SO JUICY DELICIOUS HE CAN PUKK MY BUTTRONS OFF ANYTIME IM NOT EVEN SORRY IM JUST SPEKAING M TURHT

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

NO CUZ QUEEN BEHAVIOR. I CANNTO TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I SLAPPED MYSELF IN THE FACE WHIEL I SQUEALED READING THROUGH THIS. IM PRETTY SURE I WAS KNEE DEEP IN DOING THAT BY THIS PART AND SHE REALLY ATE HIM UP WITH THIS. SHE DEVOURRRREDDDD SHEEEE LEFFTTTT HIM GAGGEDD LIKE BITCH YOU MEEANNNNN WHAT I SAID DAORRR 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 PUT A SOCK IN IT RAGGED RAT

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

THE CROWD GOES WILDDDDDDDD I CANT BELIEVE IT AHE GIRLBOSSED HERSELF TO THE SUNNNN HES BACKIN UP WITH HIS TALE BETWEEN HIS LEGS 🗣️PACK🗣️🗣️IT🗣️UP🗣️ LIZARD🗣️MAN🗣️

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

NOOOOO CUZZZZ GIGGGLIINGGG IS SUCH A POWER MOVE SHE WAS SO 😩😩😩😩 SO OP FOR THAT WHATTTTTT

Gagged

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

It's me I'm the slut for lip swiping. Fuck. Fuck me. Please I begging you. I'm on my hands and knees. You rlly got daemon goin

And I respect that

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

LAUGHING DAEMON❓BITING DAEMON❓GAGGED READER❓HUSSY READER❓DEAD ME. AND THATS ON PERIOD

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

I hate her (I wish that was me)

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

Your honor I creamed my pants. I WISH I COULD JUST DO VOICE RECORD BECAUSE NO AMOUNT IF TEXT COULD DO THE REACTIONS IM DOING ANY JUSTICE DAFAQ THIS GOT ME CURLING MY FINGERS CURLING MY TOES SCREAMING (silently cos it's the wee hour of the night and I can't be waking up the dead now)

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

SO FUCKING ME

I WILL CONSUME HIM

He pets your hair.

What if this was my last straw

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

🥲STOP😭MAKING💔FUN😔OF😩ME😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡 sroppp it I will cry at you kiss me right now 💔💔💔💔💔

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

BRAT TAME ME I DARE YOU FUCK YOU DAEMON I WILL WHINE I WILL TANTRUM SO HARD I FUCKING HATE YOU CODDLE ME RIGHT NOW I WILL CRYYYYY

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

Ok

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

NO NO NIT DAOR NO NO PLEASE STOP IT I WILL CRY AT YOU

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

SISTER I KNOW IM REDUNDANT BUT IM GAGGED IM SO GAGGED NO CUZ I DOUBT HED GIVE A FUCK AND BE THIS THOUGHTFUL IF THEY SPOKE THE SAME LANGUAGE TBH HES JUST SO KDKSKJDJD FUCK OFF FUCK OFFF

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 finally some fucking food (kisses) I'd use the Gordon meme but I'm saving my meme reactions as I've mentioned

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

Me asf. 10/10 no notes.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

She's so me. Me 🤝 her. We are one exo (it a kpop meme ignore it if u don't know lol. Nah I'll explain just in case it's like their (kpop boy band 'EXO') tagline

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

HAHAHHAAHH NGL I GAGGED MYAELF WITH THIS MEME REACTION. THIS WASNT THE ONE I WAS THINKING OFF BUT YAH SAME. GOD BLESS DONNA. GOD BLESS MERYL

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪YOU CHEEKY FUCKING BASTARD 😡😡😡😡😡 CLEARLY NOT THIS IS WHY MEN DONT DESERVE RIGHTS

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

MEEEEEE ME AS FUCK ME ME ME HAIR PULLING YEARNING WANTING NEEDING DEMANDING I WANT HIM I LOVE HIM MOST ARDENTLY

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

AND I OOP BUT IM NOT COMPLAINING JUST MAYBE A TINY KINDA

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I 'm so jealous of her I'm fucking beefing with a bunch of lines fuck outta here

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

Hey so I'm going to set myself on fire. Cool. Cool. I'm so normal. 100 percent no doubt no doubt

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

I love it here

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

😵wanna😵‍💫die😔so😖fucking😩bad🥲ha👹🤽‍♀️ha🔪

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

I was not the same person I was one fic ago

Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

[streamafterlaughter]

New Kid

Chapter V: Lazy Sunday

MASTERLIST || chapter IV || playlist

summary: Eddie slept over last night, and you two plan to spend the day together, one good day this weekend where things don’t go horribly wrong

tags: eddie munson x reader, afab!nb!gn!reader, MORE ANGST, fluff, teasing, flirty eddie, mutual pining, smut tease (minors DNI), possible secondhand embarrassment warning lol, shared trauma, weed (assume all chapters have weed involved)

a/n: IM SORRY FOR ALL THE TEASING i love that pre dating butterflies shit okay i’m sorry!! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. now for the fun part ;)

Eddie’s POV

I definitely could have kissed them then, Eddie kicks himself for not making a move. Your lips were right there! Less than an inch away! But, they also could have kissed me…

You exit the bathroom, wearing a baggy Looney Tunes shirt, and once again no pants. It’s like you’re trying to kill him. He’d be happy to go though, if it meant the last thing he got to see was you. You crawl back into your spot on the bed, cocooning yourself in your many blankets. Eddie does the same, his feet brushing yours briefly. It isn’t late, and Eddie isn’t the least bit tired. He doesn’t want to sleep, fearing all the minutes he’d miss where he could be talking to you instead. “I had a lot of fun today.” He finally says, lying on his side to face you.

“Me too. It seems we’re cursed to have wonderful days end in fire, though.” It’s dramatic, but the only two days the two of you have been together have both ended less than amicably. He’d do it again and again if it meant he got to spend his days with you.

“Psh, serves us right, worshiping the devil and all.” He makes you laugh, and he wants to record it, play a tape of it on loop forever. Without thinking, Eddie reaches a hand up to your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before resting his palm on your cheek. He feels you warm under his touch, watching your eyes close as your mouth curls into a smile. He’s about to move his hand when you turn your face into his palm, kissing the heel of his hand. Eddie’s stomach flips as your kiss sends goosebumps up his arm. Eventually, you both fall asleep like that, breathing in unison.You don’t wake up screaming this time.

—

Your POV

Today, you wake up first. Sundays always make you sad, signifying the end of your weekend, a day for finishing homework and cramming for midterms before all your tests this week. You open your eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight coming through your window. Your back is to Eddie, and you feel his arm wrapped around your waist, his breathing even. It’s the most comfortable you’ve let yourself be with someone, despite neither of you being capable of telling the other.

You don’t want to wake him, but you feel your stomach rumble, a lack of lasagna in your stomach.

You turn around slowly, sure to keep his arm in place around you. He’s sound asleep, his lips slightly parted, face peaceful. You could watch him sleep all day if it weren't for your stomach slowly eating itself from hunger.

Finally, Eddie shifts onto his back, his arm abandoning you in the process. He stretches it above his head, opening his eyes and immediately meeting your gaze. “Good morning.” He says, a tired rasp in his voice.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log. So did you, it seems?”

“Yeah, through the whole night and everything.” Thank god, you think, you’re not sure what you would’ve done if you’d woken Eddie up screaming again.

“You talk in your sleep.” Eddie says, shifting into a sitting position.

“You’re lying.” No he’s not, you know you do. It’s usually something completely irrelevant, but that doesn’t stop the fear of not knowing what you said with Eddie in your bed.

“I’m not! It was cute.”

“What did I say?”

“A lot, most of it nonsense. Something about lemurs at one point.” Relief floods through you, grateful you didn’t out yourself in your sleep. “You said I was extremely sexy.”

A lump forms in your throat, your mouth is suddenly dry, while the rest of your face breaks into a sweat. You blink rapidly, attempting to free the tears welling in your eyes. He looks at you closely, as if studying your reaction, before letting go a sudden cackle. “I’m kidding!”

You release the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and nervously laugh with him. “You’re awful!” You accuse, swinging your feet onto the floor. “I’m gonna take a shower, you feel like going to breakfast?”

“Sure you’re not sick of me yet?”

“There is nothing to get sick of.”

“Psh, whatever, go shower, I’ll be here, and totally not thinking about you in there.” You snap your head to look at him.

Eddie reaches over to your bedside table, picking up your beaten copy of The Bell Jar. He opens it to the first page before glancing up at you, frozen in place while you process what just came out of his mouth.

Eddie doesn’t explain himself, but lifts his hand and shoos you away. You don’t know what to say, what the fuck could you say?! You stumble into the bathroom, clicking the lock behind you.

—

Eddie’s POV

He pushes your comforter off of him, revealing the tent in his briefs. Shit, I guess I took my own joke too seriously. He should probably take care of it before you come out, because seeing you dripping from the shower definitely won't help. Being the genius that he is, he knows not to go to town on himself in your bed. It would make a mess, and with his luck you’d catch him jerking it and never look at him again.

Instead, Eddie slowly gets off your bed, lighter on his feet than any ballerina to ever exist. He tiptoes to the bedroom door, locks it, then gently sits on the floor in front of the bathroom. This way, he thinks in his horny boy brain, he’ll be able to hear you turn the water off.

Eddie breathes deeply, making sure he can hear the water behind the door. Sure enough, the spray of the water is clear as day. Underneath it, he can even hear you singing Hit Me With Your Best Shot at almost full volume. He decides it’ll be a silent session, knowing the thinness of the walls works both ways.

He works quickly, feeling the ache in his groin grow stronger with the sound of your voice so close. He pulls his underwear down just enough to free his dick from the confines. He spits in his hand, slightly disgusted with his desperate need for relief. He banishes the thought from his mind, grabbing at his cock with his now slick hand. He grips it securely, moving his fist rapidly to the sound of your voice.

He lets his mind wander, closing his eyes as the feeble attempt at release continues. He pictures you as you must be, completely naked, under hot, running water. You’re covered in a soapy lather, smoothing it into your skin. He pictures himself with you, undressing himself before entering the shower, hugging your naked body to his as the water bathes you both. He pictures kneeling before you, taking you in his mouth while your hands knot in his hair. He envisions detaching your shower head, bringing it to your clit to watch you squirm while he busies himself kissing your neck. Desperately, he imagines bending you over, fucking you while the water hits your back, while you fight to keep your footing as he makes you come against the tile.

His thoughts escape him, growing less and less appropriate as he brings himself to climax. He shoots his load into his hand while groaning quietly, and immediately wipes it on the inside of his shirt.

—

Your POV (occurring simultaneously with Eddie’s)

You try to steady yourself, looking at your reflection in the small bathroom mirror, taking deep breaths. Thinking about me? In here? Is he serious? He can’t be serious. You go around like this for a good two minutes, justifying his words to yourself. Finally, you decide to relieve yourself of some stress. You’ve earned it after spending the entire weekend with Eddie and not jumping his bones.

You shed your clothes, dropping them in the hamper beside the sink. You wait for the water to warm, singing Pat Benatar’s Hit Me With Your Best Shot, a go to showering tune. Once in the tub, you free your hands to roam your body, reaching your fingers between your legs to feel the wetness that had accumulated long before showering. You lean against the cold tile, bringing your middle finger to play with your clit, rubbing eager circles, letting your imagination run wild.

You imagine Eddie in your bed, reading your book. You picture exiting the bathroom, forfeiting the towel as soon as he looks from the book to you. You stroll over to him, still dripping wet from the shower, completely naked, and crawl on top of him. Because it’s your daydream, of course he welcomes you, taking you by the waist and sitting you on his lap. You can almost feel his hard cock under you, and you stifle a moan into your shoulder, hoping Eddie can’t hear you sinning from the bed. The daydream continues until you've grown desperate, yanking your shower head from the wall and bringing it between your legs. Finally, your knees shake as you orgasm, thinking of Eddie’s head between your thighs as you do. Once you compose yourself, you shut the water off, feeling somehow much dirtier than when you got in.

—

Eddie’s POV

Eddie scrambles from his spot on the floor when he hears the water turn off. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on, jumping as he struggles to get them over his sweaty legs. He turns around to find you, wrapped only in a towel, watching as he fumbles for his belt.

“I uh, forgot my clothes.” You say, not meeting his eyes. He cant help but feel flattered by your flustered reaction. There may be hope for him yet.

“Who needs ‘em.” He lets himself flirt with you, accepting that if you wanted him to stop, you’d tell him.

You hide your face from him, not willing to let him know his comment makes your stomach flip “Uh, we do, if we’re going to breakfast.” You pull a U2 shirt your dad got you when he saw them live, and a pair of acid wash distressed jeans. You throw a second shirt, a Blondie one you bought too big, at his chest. “For your modesty.” You laugh as he looks at Debbie Harry’s face, then back to yours.

“Seriously?”

“You’re the one with their tape in your car!” Before he can argue, you skip back to the bathroom to change, and probably splash some cold water on your face.

When you come back, he’s put the shirt on, and it hugs his chest and arms with just enough give that it accentuates his lean figure without looking too tight. “Looks good.” You mean it, and he thanks you with a stupid grin.

—

Your POV

“C’mon, I’ll drive!” You shout, scooping your keys from the hook at the front door. “Bye, parents!” You call, running out the door with Eddie right on your heels. In the car, you plug in your Judas Priest tape, something you only remembered you had seeing the poster on Eddie’s wall. Eddie busts out his best air guitar to Breaking the Law, and you chime in with the best metal rasp you can muster. There I was completely wasting, out of work and down All inside it’s so frustrating as I drift from town to town, Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die, So I might as well begin to put some action in my life, You know what it’s called… You reach the diner, a humble building on the outskirts of town. “We stopped here on our way in, I assume you’ve been here?”

“Believe it or not, I haven’t. I never really come this way.” The diner is close to the edge of town, something Eddie only ventures out of to visit War Zone when he makes enough for a new leather jacket, and that’s in the other direction.

“Well, their pancakes are to die for.”

The waitress at the host stand is a frazzled middle aged lady, wearing an apron covered in coffee stains. The diner bustles before you, women speed walking from table to table, serving mugs of coffee and plates of steaming eggs and bacon. The waitress greets you with a big, fake smile, and leads you to a booth in the far corner. “What can I get ya started with, lovebirds?” She asks, her pad and pen at the ready.

“Oh, we’re not-“ Eddie starts, but you interrupt, “We will have two coffees, one black, one with room for milk, and two short stacks of your chocolate chip pancakes. Oh! And two sides of bacon, please.” You hand the menus back to her, and she nods, walking off to the kitchen. “Trust me?” You reach your arms across the table, and Eddie takes your hands and nods.

-

Eddie’s POV

“So? You ask, stuffing the fluffy pancake in your mouth. Eddie makes a scene of cutting into his own slowly, bringing it to his lips, and chewing it carefully. He closes his eyes, as if cutting off one of his senses will amplify the others. Once he swallows, he opens his eyes wide, rolling them back into his head. “Fucking delicious.”

You beam at him, grateful to watch him enjoy himself, and pour maple syrup on your bacon. Eddie gives you a look of feigned disgust. You wave a sticky strip at him. “Try it!”

He obliges eagerly, taking a bite from the bacon still in your hand. You wait for his response, and after a minute of deciding, he says, “I’ll never doubt you again.”

For a while, you eat in silence, each in your own head as you watch the people bustle around the restaurant. When you’ve finished half your plate, Eddie speaks. “What are we doing today?”

You look up from your plate to meet his gaze. “We’re doing something right now aren’t we?”

“I mean, after this. You got any plans?”

“I’m at your disposal, if you’ll have me.”

Eddie can’t help the laugh that leaves his throat. If only you knew how badly it aches to think of going home. Not after the weekend you’ve both had. “There’s a decent record store downtown, if you’re interested?”

You nod your head vigorously.

When the check comes, you both reach for it. “Hey, you drove.” Eddie insists, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. You go to protest, but he holds a hand up to shush you, pulling two crisp 20s from the center fold, placing it under his empty mug. You cross your arms, twisting your face into a pout. “I am an empowered person, I can take care of myself.” You joke.

“I totally agree with you. But I also want you to save that money for the dime you’re about to drop on music.” He won’t hear your rebuttal, so you slide out of the booth, and he rises behind you.

—

Your POV

Eddie directs you through Hawkins, letting himself slip into tangents involving the places you pass. “And there is where I spent the night for public intoxication,” He points out your window to the Hawkins Police Department. “Chief Hopper stayed with me that night. I was only sixteen, walking home from a party, and he was out patrolling. He called my house, but no one came to pick me up. Dad was on a bender, mom was… god knows where.” You listen to every word as he glosses over his troubled adolescence. You feel deeply sad for him, and yearn to go back in time and tell your parents to move to Indiana four years earlier. “Here we are!” You pull up to a plaza, containing a pizza place that’s closed on Sundays, a nail salon, and the record store, aptly named Record Scratches. Eddie holds the door to the shop for you, the bell ringing lightly as you enter.

Inside, the walls are lined with shelves and shelves of records, both pristinely cling wrapped as well as old and dusty. Through the store speakers, you can just make out the words to Close To Me by The Cure: I’ve waited hours for this, I’ve made myself so sick, I wish I’d stayed asleep today, I never thought this day would come. The kid at the counter cant be older than sixteen, dressed in a denim jacket layered over a Tears for Fears shirt. “Hey, Liam!” Eddie greets him, and he returns the hello with an excited wave.

“Hi, Eddie! Welcome back.”

“This is Y/N, I’m sure they’ll become a frequent patron of yours.” You give the kid a wave that he returns. “Let me know if you need help with anything, though Eddie could probably help you better than I could.” He says, then returns to taking inventory of the box of vinyl on the counter.

Eddie migrates to the metal section, while you linger around the punk records towards the middle. You brush the covers of Bad Brains, Black Flag, The Clash, and Dead Kennedys. At the end of each aisle are cassette tapes of more music, perfect for playing in your car. You decide there that you’ll get Eddie something, preferably that you like and have confidence he’ll also enjoy. You look over to him, engrossed in the art of a Motörhead record. After plenty of consideration, you choose The Runaways self titled record, remembering how you would play You Drive Me Wild in the car on your way to your guitar lessons, giving yourself something to work towards: You know when you’re close, you really turn me on. That’s why I want you so bad when you’re gone, Yeah! Come on, come on and take me home, Please stay with me, and don’t you leave me alone… You decide to grab Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love on vinyl as well, currently only possessing it as a cassette tape.

—

Eddie’s POV (simultaneously with yours)

He settles toward the back of the store, where the metal records collect dust in a dark corner, isolated even in his favorite place. He wants to get you a record, something that proves he’s got good taste, but will still impress you. He looks up at you, across the store, digging in the punk records. He watches the way you smile when you find a record you’re looking for, inspecting used ones for scratches. Selfishly, he wants you like this all the time. A lazy Sunday spent with you at a diner, a record store, or even on the couch. He scours over the collection, barely bigger than his own. A few jump to mind: Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Judas Priest. He knows you like those bands, though, leaving very little to his imagination. He wants to wow you, for some reason. He finds you difficult to read, still not able to tell how you feel about him. He goes over every shelf, it seems, inspecting records for tracks that trigger something within him, that compel him to purchase it for someone like you.

He’s about to lose hope when he spots it, tucked away in the back of the wrong lettered section: Metal Health by Quiet Riot. He recalls the lyrics to Love’s A Bitch fondly, Love’s got me by the ass again, I’ve been in love since I don’t know when, I keep running and I don’t know why, Love’s given me a crock of lies, out of breath and I’m out of time. He tucks the record under his arm, and decides to also grab himself a copy of Autoamerican on his way by the alternative section, swearing not to tell you.

—

Your POV

“I got you something.” Eddie says as you exit the shop, and you look at him with disbelief.

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I got you something, too.”

Eddie gives you a smile, curing you of any nerves. “On three?”

“One”

Two,”

“Three!” You both pull records out of your bags. “Autoamerican? I have that already.”

Eddie does a double take. “Shit.” He switches the record for Quiet Riot’s, handing it to you. You hand him the Runaways album, and take yours from his hand. The cover shows a man in a straight jacket and a mask that looks like a jail for your face. He inspects the Runaways record, flipping it to read the tracks on the back.

“Thank you,” you whisper it, almost not wanting him to hear you.

“You wanna go home and listen?” Eddie asks, an excited smile spread across his face.

“Yours or mine?”

“Whichever,” he shrugs, thinking home is wherever you are. You decide to go back to yours to switch into Eddie’s van before going to his.

—

Eddie’s POV

At the trailer, he opens the door to the van, then his front door for you. “Player’s in my room.” He points loosely to the back of the trailer, grabbing his supply of weed off the kitchen counter to bring with him.

He enters the room, eyeing as you slip Metal Health from its sleeve, placing it gently in the player. He can’t lie to himself, he’s ecstatic you chose to listen to that one first.

The first track, named for the album, starts at a low volume, but he watches you crank it as he lights a joint, banging your head to the beat.

Eddie doesn’t know what comes over him, but he takes you by the hand, dragging you to the middle of his bedroom. He twirls you like he would at a prom, grooving in time with you. When you’re facing him again, he brings the joint up to your lips and watches you inhale. Your face is flushed, hair still windblown from the drive over. The chorus kicks in, Bang your head, Metal health’ll drive you mad, and you jump on top of the bed, bouncing up and down as you continue obeying, whipping your head around like Eddie did the night of the Corroded Coffin show.

He watches you in awe, admiring your lack of inhibition, truly enjoying yourself. You’ve got the brightest smile on your face as you point at Eddie, telling him to join you on your makeshift stage.

When the guitar solo starts, Eddie whips out the trusty air guitar, hopping on the bed with you. As the song fades into the next track, the two of you flop down on the bed, laughing and out of breath.

“What are we doing?” Eddie yells over the music.

“Enjoying ourselves!” You shout back, flinging his arms around his neck, bringing him into a bear hug. He hugs you back, no hesitation about it, and holds you there for a minute, relishing in the smell of your hair as it tickles his nose.

When you loosen your grip, but you hover in front of his face, your own inches away, arms still clasped around him.

“That’s not what you meant, was it?”

“Not exactly, but you’re right. I have been enjoying myself.”

“But is that enough for you?” You reach over to turn the music down so you don’t have to shout. Your eyes are filled with concern, and his heart melts.

“More than enough. Is it enough for you?”

You shake your head briefly, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this weekend.”

“Do tell.” His heart aches with anticipation.

You’re silent for a second, considering your words carefully. “I didn’t come here planning to make friends. I wanted to focus on school, get the hell out, and then worry about my social life.”

Eddie nods, feeling his heart crack as he looks at you.

“But,” You pause, adjusting your grip around his neck, “that’s not what happened. I met you. And I’m so glad I did.”

Eddie breaks into another huge smile then, moving his arms to wrap around your waist as you both shift in the bed. He speaks finally, “I’m so fucking glad I met you.” He’s had it with the subtleties, he moves one arm from your waist to tuck a flyaway behind your ear, focusing on your ear instead of your eyes.

—

Your POV

The warmth of his hand heats your face, surely making it redder than it already is. You look at him, at his lips: pink and so unbelievably soft, his pupils large making dark brown eyes almost black. The dimple in his cheek grows as he meets your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks you, barely a whisper.

“How badly I want you to kiss me.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you look away. It’s the first time you admit it, and you feel a weight lift off your chest. Your heart beats faster, and it’s so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can hear it too.

“Yeah?” Eddie cups a hand under your chin. He doesn’t seem fazed by your words. In fact, he seems elated to hear it, quirking an eyebrow at you, almost skeptical.

You take his hand from your face and move it over the left side of your chest. “Does it feel like I’m joking right now?”

He looks from your face to where his hand sits, right on top of your breast with your full consent. The look of shock is quickly replaced with one of mischief. As if you couldn’t get any warmer, the words leave his lips so close to yours that his breath is hot on your face. “Kiss me first.” You shake your head as if the entire scene is taking place in your brain rather than right in front of you. He leans further into you, taking your face back in his hand. He’s an inch, less than that, away from your lips, you can almost taste him. Your eyes close slowly, and you pucker your lips as subtly as you can manage… and nothing happens.

Instead of connecting your lips, he widens his smile, watching your reaction to his teasing. You open one eye to catch him gawking at your face. “What the hell?”

A cackle breaks the tension as Eddie throws his head back. It shatters you, watching him find amusement in your vulnerability. So much so, you decide then and there that your seven minutes in Heaven are over. He’s still laughing as you mumble “I gotta go.” shoving off of Eddie’s bed to go look for your shoes. You stifle your tears as your chest heaves, threatening to burst right in front of Eddie. “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t mean—“ You slam his bedroom door behind you and make a run for the outside.

“Wait, hold on!” Eddie calls for you, but it’s too late. You’ve slipped outside, abandoning the record in the player, storming out of his trailer with a slam of the door.

“Y/N!” Eddie calls from the porch as you stomp out of earshot. It’s pouring now, and you totally forgot you switched cars, so you’re stuck walking home, a direction you barely remember when you’re not crying.

You faintly hear Eddie calling for you, and he’s sure to at least follow to the edge of the park, but you don’t turn around. You’ll walk the block for an hour in the rain, maybe, clear your head. Was this all a fucking joke to him? Did he not feel anything for you? He did a great fucking job pretending.

There’s about an inch of water in your shoes as you exit onto the main road. Maybe a nice truck driver will pick you up, whisking you away from this Hellish town with its charming, beautiful, and deceitful boys. You don’t bother to hide your tears anymore, no one can see them in the rain.

“Y/N! I’m sorry!” Eddie’s voice is closer now, but you don’t dare turn around until you feel him tug on your shoulder, forcing you to face him.

“What the fuck was that?” You whip around to look up at him, the rain dripping from his hair into his face, soaking into his clothes the same way it must be yours. “That shit’s not funny.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to hurt your feelings. I just—I was so surprised.”

“What? Surprised that I actually believed you’d kiss me?! How fucking dare I, honestly?” You spit your words with a harsh venom behind them. “With you looking at me the way you do, touching me the way you do. Forgive me, Eddie, for thinking I had a sliver of a chance with you.” It feels like you’re losing your mind, having deluded yourself into believing Eddie felt the same way you do. “You know what, you’re a fucking freak.” You both flinch at the word when it leaves your lips, and you instantly regret it. It’s a low blow, and one you’ve been on the receiving end of plenty of times. “Eddie, I—“

“No, it’s okay. I deserve that. I am. What type of person falls for someone over the course of one week? Who else laughs when they finally get the chance they’ve been wishing for since day one? I wanted to kiss you. I want to kiss you now. But, I can’t.”

“What the fuck does that even mean, Eddie? It sounds like you don’t want to kiss me.”

“It means once I kiss you, that’s it. No one’s left wondering what could have been. I have been wracking my brain trying to figure you out, the best way to do it, and I’ve come up with nothing. I’ve had so many chances and none of them felt good enough. I wanted to make it special, and when the opportunity finally revealed itself, I fucked it up!” He flails his arms above his head in exasperation, shouting over the sound of rain on the roofs of the trailers behind him. “I was so desperate to get this right that I made it so much worse.”

“And you don’t think spending this whole weekend together; comforting each other through being beaten up, my nightmares, my grandmother, staying up all night to talk, falling asleep in each other’s beds— you don’t see how special any of that is? I had so many opportunities to go home, Eddie. I could have bolted after the party Friday, could have sent you home when I saw my grandmother. You could have kicked me out after my episode, told me to go fuck myself and sleep on the couch. Not fucking once did I want to leave you until you laughed at me like that.” Your voice breaks, and you release a chest rattling sob into the air. “Why would you laugh at me like that?” The question barely escapes before you let yourself cry.

Your question hangs over his head like an anvil, guilt clouding his vision. Eddie covers his face with his hands, half to stifle a cry of his own, half to wipe the rain from his face. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I was so… shocked by what you said, I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. No one’s ever told me they want to kiss me and meant it, especially someone I want to kiss. I guess… I didn’t believe you.” The words break your heart into even smaller pieces. You dare take a step closer to Eddie, quietly so he can’t hear you do so over the rain. You drag your feet closer to where he stands, eventually your toes only an inch apart. He notices, looking up from his feet to squint at you through the storm. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“I guess it’s okay.” You swat the tears from your eyes. “You should probably grovel, though, just to make sure.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He drops to his knees, soaking them through with mud as he clasps his hands together in prayer. “Please, Y/N, forgive me for all I’ve done. I live to serve you and you alone. What shall I do to make it up to you?”

You bend down to his eye level, cupping his chin in your hand. His skin is wet under your equally rain soaked touch, your thumb slipping quickly over his bottom lip. “Whatever you feel is appropriate.” You tease before standing again, walking past him back to his trailer.

Before you can get far, he grabs your wrist, using you to pull himself back up. In one swift motion, you’re spun to face him, and he closes the space between you, finally connecting his lips to yours. It’s as if the storm has stopped, as if the world freezes on its axis in the brightest sunspot, your whole body melting with his touch. You’re numb to the rain, only concentrating on how soft his lips are on yours, the way his fingers grip your hips, the way he tastes like weed, cigarettes, and mint. You wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his wet hair, and he lifts you off your feet, making sure your lips stay securely connected.

“I should get you home, huh?” He says, ending the kiss much to your disapproval, that stupid smile back on his face as he puts you on the ground. You give him a pout in response, and he plants a second, too-quick kiss on your lips. “C’mon, we can throw your clothes in the dryer before you leave.” He holds out his hand for you to take, and you do, following Eddie back into his trailer.

chapter VI

—

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @beebeerockknot @five-bi-five || send a message to be added!🫶

[shoot-the-oneshot]

counting the days: day 6

Series summary. You go to a friends bachelorette party in Italy and meet the man of your dreams, NOT, you didn’t see the part where you get kidnapped by a gangster on your friends itinerary. How will you handle being thrown into a life of guns and mafias.

Series masterlist

A/n wow thank you all for the love this series has gotten I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated I was going through a lot but I’m back now and can’t wait to get back into it.

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

"Do you want to go home?"

you're sure you stopped breathing. after everything now he says that! its a test it has to be.

Massimo, who felt you freeze from where you were pressed back against his chest reaches his hand down to grip your hip through the sheets. not in the way you were used to feeling his touch. aggressive, rough, controling. no, this was soft and caring. you didnt know what to think now. you sucked in a quick breath when his nose nuzzled behind your ear. his gravely tone vibrating though you.

"we can go back to italy for a few weeks if you want."

"what?" you asked turning over to face him. he mustve taken your confusion as concerns because his hand moved from your hip to caress the side of your face. "its not a trick, you tell me what part you’re from and we can leave right now." oh....you didnt notice before but glancing down at your phone the picture you were looking at weren’t of home, it was from the bachelorette party, he thinks youre from italy. you didnt want to leave, but now that the chance is there. "No" you could tell he was surprised,

"lets go somewhere else just the two of us." mimmicing his hand on your face you could feel his head slowly nodding in your palm. clearly your want to stay with him after what happend and your affection has disstracted him enough to mistake the hope for freedom in your eyes as excitement, just like you knew it would, as you said before. you were his weakness and tonight proved it.

"I want to go to Y/hometown, Ive always wanted to visit." the lie slipped out easily. his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. "ill call the pilot."

the next day you were back home, not that Massimo knew that but you played tourist exceptionally well.

you waited till he was asleep, you didnt believe in fate untill he rolled off of you he’d been holding you in his sleep for the past two hours. forcing yourself not to move to quickly in your excitement, quitely opening the door, not bothering to grab anything. clothes be dammed and you knew he would track your phone all you needed was to run. and thats exactly what you did the second the door closed. you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest with how fast it was beating. 'come on come on' you whispered to yourself, you could only imagine what it looked like to the few people still in the lobby as you ran barefoot out the elevator full speed. your hair whipping around your face as you looked for a way to go. spotting the car across the street you ran for it narrowly missing getting hit by a car that slammed the breaks at the last second. yelling a ‘sorry’ over your shoulder, practically diving into the passenger seat yelling for them to drive. "geez Y/N, you almost died,'' Ally screached, jumping in her seat. looking at you with wide eyes. "Drive Ally, now!" your yells put her in gear as she sped off. have you ever been so relived that you start laughing hysterically? because thats exactly what happeed the farther you got from the hotel. Ally kept looking at you like you were crazy, "where have you been? and why are you at a hotel?" she shot question after question at you. when you turned to look at her you felt overwhelmed, you were home, with your bestfriend. and still there was a small pit in your stomach you wont pay attention to right now. Blinking the tears back at you watch the familiar streets go by.

"Is he hot though?"

once you both got back to her house she didnt let you escape her questioning so you explained everything from bumping into Massimo at the hotel to where you are now, and of course the only thing she asks after you tell her you get kidnapped by a mafia boss is if hes atractive.

"yes Ally, he's hot is that all you took from that?" you sighed exasperated, leaning back on the couch some reality show playing in the background. sensing your mood she came to sit with you, leaning her head on your shoulder. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too"

after a few weeks of laying low with no sign of Massimo on your tail, you deemed it safe to run to the store for a late night craving of ice cream. oh but how you wish you would've stayed at the house.

you didnt hear their footsteps untill they were on you. your yells going unheard in the practically abandoned parking lot as you were grabbed from behind, clawing at the bag over your head still struggling against your attacker. A chill going down your spine as you recognize the voice.

"Massimo can't save you this time"

Series tag list: @calirindo @salvatorecan-wait @mjaudrey @omgsuperstarg @jojosgirlkat1dluvr @bat-luna-cat @queentorresstuff @viktoria12 @thenyousaidhello @posiemax @sydney-m

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Love On Tour - Harry Styles Mini Series (Part 8)

(Part 7)

Day Off.

“Oh my god, I am fine,” you laughed, pushing Harry’s face away from yours.

He had been next to you all night since your little scare at the show the previous night and as soon as you woke up, he was right there, staring at you.

“Just checking,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I ordered in breakfast and I’ve found some movies to watch-”

You sighed, “We don’t have to stay in all day. I know you wanted to go sightseeing before we left.”

“Well, that was before my girlfriend passed out at my show,” he said.

“I didn’t pass out… technically,” you responded. “And I’m fine.”

Harry shook his head, “Nope, we’re staying in. Maybe we can head out to dinner later, but I’ll feel better about you traveling if we take it easy today.”

You rolled your eyes, “So bossy.”

He smirked, “You like it.”

“Whatever,” you laughed, getting up from the bed.

You noticed you felt a little dizzy, so you sat up for a bit before standing up. You walked into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. You sighed, gripping the sink, and taking deep breaths as the dizziness passed. There was definitely something going on, but you weren’t ready to face it yet. You just needed to wait a few more days. A few more days and if you didn’t get your period or you didn’t feel any better you’d take a test.

You walked back into the room where Harry had laid out the food onto the table. You both sat down and started eating breakfast quietly. You felt a churn in your stomach, but you ignored it.

“Will you tell me what really happened last night?” He asked.

You look up at him, “What do you mean? I already told you.”

He shook his head, “No, you told me half of what happened.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, “I don’t know. I was fine and then all of a sudden, I felt hot and couldn’t breathe. Pretty sure it was an anxiety or panic attack. I’ve had them before, but it was worse last night. Glenne followed me to the bathroom and I guess my body just gave out, so I went to the dressing room. She got the EMS to check on me and they said I was dehydrated and overheated so they gave me an IV. Like I said, there’s just a lot going on that my body isn’t used to. I’ll be fine.”

Harry sighed, “Why didn’t you tell me? I knew you were stressing over being away, but I don’t want it to be to the point it’s making yourself sick.”

“I’m sure it will be okay in a few days,” you said. “Plus, the IV did seem to help. I just need to make sure I’m drinking more water and eating.”

“I need you to be okay,” he whispered, putting his hand over yours.

You sighed, getting up from your chair and sitting down in his lap, “I am okay and if anyone should be worried, it’s me. I mean you’re the one who is on stage for like two hours and traveling and everything.”

“I got this,” he smirked. “I’m good.”

“Same here,” you smirked.

He laughed pressing his lips against yours.

**

Later that day, you and Harry spent time watching movies and napping. Honestly, it was just what you needed. It took your mind off the fact you were late and your anxiety was lowered by the distraction. However, it was eating at you that you hadn’t told Harry yet. Part of you knew you should tell him, but the other part didn’t want to bring it up until it absolutely had to be brought up. Plus, actually saying the words out loud would make it more real and you were not ready for that.

Not yet.

Harry’s gaze was on the tv while you laid your head on his chest. His fingers grazed along your back and every so often he’d plant a kiss on your head.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered.

“Always, love,” he smiled.

“What do you see in our future?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sit up to turn and look at him, “Like… Do you see me in your future? See us? You know, like together.”

He moved hair away from your face, “Of course. I don’t want a future that doesn’t involve you. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just wondered if you ever thought about getting married or having a family with me?”

“Yeah, I have,” he nodded. “I love you, why wouldn’t I want that with you?”

You smiled.

“What’s bringing this on?” He asked. “Do you want to get married?”

“Well, I mean, not like right now,” you laughed. “But I just wondered if maybe we should start thinking about the next step in our relationship. We’ve been together for a while. We live together. I’m not saying we have to rush into marriage or anything, but it should be something we talk about, you know we’re on the same page.”

“I get that,” he nodded. “And like I said, I do want to get married and have a family with you one day, but with getting back to touring and releasing a new album next year, plus with filming… it just would be a lot, you know?”

You weren’t sure why, but hearing him say that made your heart drop a little.

“No, I get it,” you said. “We’re both busy and adding all that other stuff would be a lot, but it’s just something I thought about.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to think it’s not because I don’t want to do any of that with you. You’re the only one I want to be my wife and the mother of my kids, one day. Just not in the near future.”

You forced a laugh, “I don’t think that. Again, I was just asking because we hadn’t really talked about it before.”

“True,” he nodded. “And it’s probably best if we're on the same page.”

“Exactly,” you replied.

He laughed, kissing your forehead. You forced a smile before excusing yourself to head to the bathroom again. You closed the door and slid down to the floor. You swallowed back the sobs threatening to spill from your throat. You understood where Harry was at, hell you even agreed with him. But it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Anxiety filled up inside of you again. The nervousness of the unknown. The guilt from keeping it from Harry. The worry about how he would react, how you would even react. It was all too much for you. So, you sat there on the bathroom floor, alone, letting the tears stream down your face.

[angry-geese]

To You Someday

Choso x Reader

Warnings: sfw. mention of periods, and blood, but overall its sfw. afab reader.

Summary: some very self indulgent fluff with choso comforting the reader when they're on their period. i needed a bit of fluff to balance out the fact that for the last like month ive posted nothing but smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Without fail, once a month you have this conversation. And once a month, without fail, he thinks you're dying.

He didn't quite understand the first time you explained it. You aren't dying, which is what caught him most off guard. He saw the slightest bit of blood on the sheets once—an accident really, you didn't know your period had started until a few hours after it happened—and quite literally thought you were dying. You spent a while explaining to a frantic, grieving Choso that you weren't about to die. Nobody can bleed for that long and not die. You have to tell him that you, in fact, can, and that this is something a lot of people deal with. He gets that it's normal, but seeing you in pain stresses him out.

It doesn't seem to matter how many times you tell him to not fuss over you, he always will. Worrying is in his nature. You're precious to him, he's not about to let you slip through his fingers. God forbid you try to lift something heavy, or try to do anything physically taxing. Choso insists on doing everything for you. However well meaning, his presence is a bit suffocating at times.

Having spent most of his life in a test tube, with only the faintest notion of what goes on around him, modern life was a bit of a shock. He had little notion of how the modern world works. Everything seems to happen so fast, the world is so loud and bright and busy. He’s overwhelmed. It feels like the second he gets the hang of one thing, something else comes up entirely. But even as he’s frustrated, or down on himself for not getting something, you’re always there to comfort him. You never judge him for needing help.

You like to think he’s adjusted well over the past year. With the help of you and Yuji, he’s settled into a normal(ish) life. It’s hard to consider life normal when you’re constantly dealing with curses, but there’s some sense of normalcy to it.

You were one of the first people to help him. It was a long process. Even today he’s still adjusting as the world changes around him. He owes you a debt he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to pay you back for. You tell him he doesn't owe you anything, but he still insists on paying you back. With what, he’s not certain yet.

He didn't understand his feelings for you at first. Choso cared about you deeply—he cared about Yuji—but his love for you was so much different than his love for his brother. Choso has always been affectionate. Not just to Yuji, but to you too. When you spend so much time together, it's hard to not love someone, even if just a little bit. He saw you as a friend; and then he didn't.

He found his every waking moment consumed by the thought of you. You weaved your way into every corner of his mind. From the moment he woke up, to the moment he shut his eyes, he was thinking of—or seeing things—that reminded him of you. Even in his dreams too. You made his heart race every time you talked to him, to the point he thought he was dying. Everything made his heart flutter. His brother had to explain to him that no- that's normal when you have a crush.

He loved you.

He’s never been so in-love.

He was head-over-heels, in fact. He still is. Even as you moved past the honeymoon phase of your relationship, he still was so hopelessly in love. Maybe it never ended, the two of you only grew used to being around each other. The others constantly make remarks about how they’ve never seen two people so in-love.

Yuji was the first to help him figure out his feelings. Choso had no clue what a crush was. He knew he wanted something more than friendship. He wasn't sure what. But he wanted it. Though you were less vocal with your feelings, everyone around you knew. From lingering gazes, to your eagerness to spend time with him, it was obvious. It seemed like everyone but the both of you knew.

Yuji wanted to help him plan some big reveal. He spent weeks scheming an elaborate plan. It had to be special. He wanted it to be a big day for the two of you. He wanted you to know, but he wanted his reveal to be special.

Choso’s confession was entirely accidental.

You had come back from a job injured. It wasn't anything fatal, but he had warned you not to go alone, and in turn spent the entire day worrying about you. So when he came back to find you bleeding out all over your bathroom counter, he panicked. A little blood never bothered him. Until it was your blood. He pulled you into an impulsive kiss.

And when he told you how he felt, you grinned wider than he’d ever seen. He wasn't surprised that you felt the same way, more that he was relieved. Surprise isn't the right word for it. Yuji let it slip that you felt the same way.

It’s become a nightly routine for the two of you. In the evening, while watching a movie or getting settled down for the night, he’ll have you play with his hair. He says it helps him sleep. You can believe it. He’s usually knocked out within minutes of you starting. Tonight is no different. He drags you out into the living room, sitting you down on the couch. He picked the movie- one recommended by Yuji. It was a bit longer than you usually watch, but you don't have anything planned tomorrow, so you don't mind staying up a bit late. Work can wait. You deserve a day off.

As you settle into your nightly routine, he’s by your side, insisting on helping you. His presence is a bit more overbearing than usual, but you don't think much of it. It doesn't take him long to get comfortable, settled between your legs, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Choso’s head leans back against your stomach, hands folded in his lap. He lets out a soft sigh as you comb his hair out of his face with your fingers, tucking it behind his ear. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. His hair is softer than it looks. It's getting long- it's past his shoulders now. Goosebumps raise along his shoulders as your fingers brush across his skin.

You’re the first person to touch him in such a way. You’re the first to hold him like he’s precious. Before you, his only physical contact was from fighting. Affection in such a way was completely foreign to him. He was touch starved, to say the least.

And then you came along and looked at him like he was the world.

He shifts so he’s nearly sitting in your lap, arms looped around your neck. His face buries in yours—his—shirt. Choso has lots of baggy, comfy clothes that you constantly steal. It smells like you, and laundry soap, and a bit of your shampoo. He likes letting you borrow them, you always return them smelling like you. As his head leans against your chest, he can hear your heartbeat. It's steady, but picks up in pace as he stretches to press a kiss to your lips. Blush dusts his cheeks, turning the tips of his ears and nose pink.

Choso runs cold naturally. Most of the time he refuses to cuddle unless you’re wrapped in blankets. You have to reassure him that you’re not as fragile as he seems to think you are. He knows. But that doesn't stop him from worrying.

Painkillers weren't exactly working. The pain is manageable, albeit coming and going in waves. Manageable is about the best things get. Choso seems to know something is up before you do. Call it a sixth sense or whatnot. Though you don't appear to be ill, you're not acting like your usual self. He doesn't remember you getting injured. You're acting like you're injured. That worries him greatly.

"You're hurt?" He asks.

“I’m just a bit tired.” You say. "It's nothing to worry about."

Slowly he untangles himself from your limbs. You try to pull him back into your lap, but let him go when he insists.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, gently pushing your shoulders back.

There’s no use arguing. He’s hellbent in his ways, especially when they come to you.

You wouldn't say you were paying attention to the movie, so much as you were present for it's duration. You flop back on the couch, your attention turned to the tv.

He tries to remember everything you normally do that helps. Heating pads, tea, fluffy blankets and extra pillows. Small creature comforts he’s never really lived with before. He didn't see a need for them until he had them, and then he found himself unable to live without them.

Choso disappears into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a cup of tea, and a heating pad. Heat helps sore muscles. As he settles back onto the couch, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist, your back against his chest. The warmth helps with your cramps a bit. The heat feels nice against your sore muscles.

His fingers trace across your skin, memorizing every inch of your body like he’s reading a book of braille, soft and loving. Choso isn't shy in how he appreciates your body. He could spend hours running his hands over your body, tracing every dip and curve of your form. He wants to know your body better than he does his own; what you like, how you feel, what you taste like. In public he has to have an arm around you, or his fingers laced with yours. Everyone has to know you’re his.

One of your hands finds his, your fingers lacing together. He holds your hand to his cheek before planting a kiss on your knuckles. Soft locks of his hair pool around his head, tickling your neck.

He’s never been so hopelessly in love.

Though your eyelids begin to feel heavy, you still fight to stay awake. He pulls the blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it around you. The warmth, combined with the feeling of his arms around you, threatens to lull you to sleep.

Choso is there when you fall asleep. And he’ll be there long after you wake up.

[masilvi]

sorry if you've stated this somewhere, i couldnt find it- what brushes do you mostly use? (ive seen a bunch of brush/texture testing pieces of yours and theyre all so pretty 🥺🥺 so it got me curious)

Thank you!! Usually, my go-to brushes are these (for Clip Studio Paint):

Sketching/Rough Pencil: https://rondanchan.gumroad.com/l/KMpYy

Cleaner Sketch/Lineart: https://assets.clip-studio.com/es-es/detail?id=1740419

And sometimes this one too: https://assets.clip-studio.com/es-es/detail?id=1761353

Colouring/Toning: https://assets.clip-studio.com/es-es/detail?id=1692034

Lately I’ve been using this one too (usually in combination with the second pencil above) https://assets.clip-studio.com/es-es/detail?id=1776520

I don’t use all of them together at once! How I combine them depends a lot on what I want the piece to look like, other times I use the default Design Pencil, with my own customised settings

Hope this helps!! 💖

[forever-rogue]

congrats on the followers milestone! can i request

“You’re shaking.” from prompt list 3 with Javier Peña? ❤️

Ask and you shall receive, my love 💕😌

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader; warnings: depictions of violence & angst

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Javier," you didn't even open your eyes as you reached out for him. You were buried in a cocoon of warm, plush blankets, resting on a pillow that smelled just like him. 

It was late - so late that it was early in the morning. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you listened to him continue to pace his bedroom. The window was wide open, letting in the soft sounds of the lightly falling rain, but it still wasn't enough to drown out the shuffling of his feet. His body was practically humming with nervous energy as he couldn't quite seem to calm down.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," you pouted as you sneaked a peek at him, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, shoulders slumped and hanging his head in...shame? Worry? Something was weighing heavy on him. 

He got like this sometimes; but you didn't blame him. While you didn't work for the DEA and weren't completely privy to every aspect of his job, you knew it was hardly rainbows and sunshine. But you never, ever pried, rather, you provided whatever he needed. Sometimes it was silence, a comforting touch as he pondered over his actions. Sometimes it was listening to him as he ranted and raved about his day. Sometimes it was providing a sounding board he posed different theories about anything and everything. 

But most importantly, it was you being you. He loved you more than life itself, and at the end of the day, getting to come home to you, to be yours, was more than he could have dreamed of. You were the reminder that for all the bad that was in the world, there was still some good. There was still a reason to hope, a reason to get up every morning and fight for the right thing. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around and looked at you, nothing but sorrow etched in his eyes. Those soft brown eyes were often filled with so much emotion, so many things all at once - honeyed and golden - and now? They were tired, empty- hollow. He exhaled slowly, a long shaky thing before he offered you a small nod.

You sat up and held your hand to him, beckoning for him to come closer. Javier stared at your outstretched hand for a moment before caving and giving you his own, much larger hand. Pulling him closer to you, he gave in and sat at the end of the bed.

"I love these hands," you whispered before bringing it to your lips and gently kissed his knuckles, "so strong and calloused, but still soft and tender under it all. One of the best parts of my day is getting to hold one of these hands - or to be held by them."

"Dulzura," it was the first time he had spoken since he'd arrived home. It had been late and you were already in bed. He'd barely alerted you to his presence, only announcing his arrival with a soft kiss to your forehead that had stirred you from your slumber.

"Javier," you reached over and touched his cheek before tracing over his features, "I love you, so much. I want you to always know that. You don't have to tell me what's going on,  but you know I will be here for you no matter what."

Almost as if a weight had been magically lifted from his shoulders, he let out a gentle sigh before closing his eyes and keening into your touch. You were the sun, despite the cold, dark embrace of the night, and he was lucky enough to be in your orbit.

"I love you," he whispered gruffly, his voice catching on each syllable. Before he could think twice about it, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, wanting to feel the sacred intimacy of your skin on his, "I will always protect you. Yeah?"

"Javier," you smiled softly before pressing your forehead against his, "I know that. You don't have to tell me what's on your mind, but if you want to, you know I'll listen. I'm not here to judge you; you think you're this monster, but I know you're not. You're a good man, despite what you think."

Javier made a small sound in his throat before gently laying you back down in your pile of blankets; they were soft - so soft - just like your heart. Instead of getting up to aimlessly pace around, he laid down next to you, facing you, as he slung an around your waist and tangled his legs with yours. Reaching over, you brushed a stray curl from his forehead before giving him a gentle kiss. The worry on his face eased up ever so slightly as you closed your eyes and pulled him against your chest before using him as your pillow.

It wasn't long before you were asleep again, delicately snoring in his arms as he tried to ground himself with your presence. But sleep still managed to evade him, and he laid there with a multitude of dark thoughts in his mind.

But at least you weren't one of them.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a quick in and out of the small supermarket. Another long week had passed and you had wanted to surprise Javi with his favorites for dinner. 

It was all supposed to be so simple.

And now? 

You were lying against a mess of rubble and smoke, your ears ringing out of control as your vision grew hazy. Everything hurt, but you were alive - covered in blood, not all your own, as you tried to make sense of what happened. Abrasions and gashes liberally covered your body as you tried to wipe away the grime from your face.

All around you people were running around frantically, screaming and shouting. You didn't blame them; if you hadn't been so confused and taken aback by what happened you would have been the same. 

You pulled yourself up on shaking, trembling legs, and tried to navigate away from the ruin. Whatever type of bomb that had been used was enough for this building and the next, it had caused nothing but chaos. All you knew was that you wanted to get out. Out, out, out and into safety.

But before you could escape, you heard frenzied shouts of your name among the loud ringing and screams. You looked around and found Javier sprinting over to you.

He stopped as soon as he was in front of you, his hands finding your face as he looked you over. You didn't even realize you'd begun to cry until you felt his hand brush away some of the tears.

He was speaking - asking you questions but you didn't hear a word. His hands went to your shoulders as he tried to shake you and pull you back in reality but nothing worked. It was like you were watching a movie play out, but this wasn’t anything like that - this was a horrifying reality. The worst part? You were one of the lucky ones.

You were in such a daze that you shut down, finding yourself blankly staring back at him. Nothing but fear and worry clouded his expression as he tried to get you to say something - anything - back to him.

The last thing you remembered was him pulling you into his arms and turning away from the horrific scene.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next time you woke up it was quiet. Almost too quiet and nothing met your ears the harsh ticking of the clock on the wall and the beeping of the several machines. A small groan left your lips as you slowly moved, trying to stretch your stiff limbs as you woke up. 

Rubbing at your heavy eyes, you frowned deeply when you saw all the contusions and lingering scratches on your hand.

Oh. It hadn’t been some sort of wicked dream or nightmare. 

Your throat was practically raw as you tried to swallow, screaming in pain. You quickly spied the pitcher of water and sad plastic cups on the table next to your bed, reaching for it hastily as you poured a cup and downed it in one go. It was warm and almost metallic; you wondered how long it had been there. How long you had been there. 

Studying the IV in your arms, along with other various implements, you sighed as you tried not to cry. Everything hurt, every fiber of your being felt like it was aching to the bone. Pulling back the thin, scratchy blanket, you realized your lower half didn’t look much better. Your legs were nothing but constellations of black and blue tinged with green. As if to test the waters, you moved each leg, flexing your feet and knees, as if just checking to make sure everything still worked. Just in case. Just because.

It hurt now, and no doubt for a long time, but you were alive. You were still breathing, taking in shallow breath after shallow painful breath. But you were still here. That’s what mattered.

You looked around for someone...anyone. But found no one. Your heart fell a little as you had half expected Javier to be there, or perhaps Steve, or maybe even Connie. But there was no one. Half tempted to get up and move around, or at least try, you refrained and hit the call button on the remote on your side instead. 

It was only a few moments before you heard footsteps approaching and a nurse poke in her head. Her face lit up when she noticed that you were awake and conscious, despite the sight for sore eyes that you currently were. 

“You’re awake,” she came over and looked at you, a hand going to your face as she brushed away a few tangled locks from your forehead, “a welcome surprise. How are you feeling?”

“Like death,” you admitted quietly, “but I’m here, and that’s...that’s the important part.”

“You survived a bombing.” she reminded you, “being here is the only thing right now. How’s the pain?”

“Just sore,” you admitted, not quite feeling the full effects just yet, “am I...anything permanent?”

“No,” she promised as you felt a wave of relief wash over you, “you got lucky. You’ll be back to normal eventually, right now you’ll need lots of rest - for your body and mind. We just want to keep you for a few more days to make sure there’s no infection with anything. You had a few good gashes on your legs and abdomen.”

“Okay,” you let out a stunted exhale as you realized that no matter what happened, you were in good hands and had been well taken care of. But that still didn’t solve the mystery of why you were alone, “there was a man that brought me in I’m sure...is he...here?”

“Javier?” she asked as you nodded lightly, “he had to leave on an emergency call. Don’t worry, sweetheart, he hasn’t left your side in days.”

“Days?” you tilted your head to the side in confusion, “how long have I been here?”

“Almost a week,” she gave a tight lipped smile, “go on and rest, and I’ll bring you something to eat. I’m sure he'll be back soon.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

But soon turned into hours and those hours stretched into the wee hours of the night, and eventually you fell back asleep. The amount of painkillers and fluids were enough to keep you drowsy and despite wanting to see Javier, you couldn’t stay awake. 

It had hurt your feelings a little - the fact that no one stopped in to see you. But you decided not to take it personally; work was probably insane at the moment.

Javier didn’t make an appearance until the next afternoon.

His tread was light as he hovered in the doorway, almost as if studying you to see if you were conscious. 

“Javi,” you beamed when you spotted him, slowly sitting up as best as you could. Your heart instantly felt better at the sight of your lover as he shuffled into the room. You’d expected him to be excited, to smile, to cry, to...something. But there was...nothing. You frowned as he came and stood at the side of your bed, “Javier? W-what’s wrong, mi amor?”

“Look at you,” he whispered softly after a few tense moments, reaching up and gingerly touching your cheek. You sighed and reached for his hand but he quickly flinched out of your grasp.

“It’s okay,” you promised softly, surprised by his recoil, “it looks bad now, but it will be better. They said nothing is permanent. I’ll be fine soon enough.”

“You were almost killed and you think this is fine?!” you had never heard him shout before, not like this, not in such anger. His nostrils flared as he ran a hand over his tired face, “you look terrible, you were barely conscious and then in a coma for a week. Nothing about this is fine!”

“Javi,” you had leaned away at the sound of yelling, confused and hurt by his harsh response, “I’m alive, okay? That’s what matters. The rest will get better -”

“What about all the people that it won’t get better for?” he sighed as he turned around for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, “what if it had been you? If something worse had happened to you, I would never be able to live with myself.”

“But it didn’t,” you whispered, “and I know it’s hard to accept right now, but I am okay and it will get better and this isn’t your fault. Please, Javier, calm down, my love, you’re shaking…”

“This was because of me,” he turned around, an emotionless mask on his face, “don’t you understand that? This happened to you because you know me...because you’re with me.”

“Javier-”

“I couldn’t even protect you,” he hung his head with a bitter laugh, “I promised I would always protect you, and I couldn’t even do that much. What if...I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this every day knowing how easy it is for them to get to you. I won’t have anything happen to you just because you’re mine - because of me.”

“You didn’t….” you paused and tried to reach for him, holding out your hand and offering it to him as you had done countless times before. Except this time...he didn’t take it, “Javier. I know this was bad, and I know that it wasn’t your fault. You did protect me - if you hadn’t gotten me here in time, or came to me, it could have been so much worse. I’m not...I know the risks of your job, Javi, but it doesn’t scare me. Not away from you….I love you.”

“I know,” he answered gruffly, “I know you do. Despite the fact that I’m a bad man that does bad things. And I love you too. That’s why I have to do this….”

“Do what?” you asked as your heart plummeted into your stomach at the tone of his words. This wasn’t good - no this..was very bad, “Javier? What’s...what’s going on?”

“As soon as you’re well enough to travel, you’re going home,” he didn’t even look at you as your mouth dropped in horror and confusion, “you’re getting on the first plane back to the states. And you’re never setting foot back in Colombia.”

“Javier,” your voice cracked as he refused to meet your eyes, “you can’t just do that. You can’t-”

“I have and I will,” he answered gruffly, “it’s been taken care of. The DEA will set you up with a new place and help you find a new job. Please...just don’t argue with me. Just…”

“You can’t do this,” you were crying now, as your whole world crumbled around you and Javier started to walk away, refusing to look at you again, “please...please don’t do this. Please don’t make me leave. Don’t - don’t...walk away. Javier, I love you, and I want to be here with you. I don’t care about anything else!”

“I know, Dulzura,” he whispered as he paused in the doorway, his back still to you, “I love you more than you will ever know. That’s why this has to be done. Please just...do this one thing. For me.”

“Javier...don’t walk away,” you were begging him, your chest tightening in constricting as it got harder and harder to breathe, “p-p-please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me - not like this. Please.”

“I am sorry,” he promised gently, “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. But I do love you, truly, that’s why I have to do this. You will thank me one day.”

“Javier,” he turned and walked out of the small room, pausing for just a moment before he exhaled shakily and walked away. If you had seen him, you’d have seen the most heartbroken look on his face as tears streamed down his cheeks. But you didn’t; instead you sat there, helpless and small as your vision grew warm and bleary with your own tears. 

You hid your face in your hands as you cried and cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore. No one came in, no one said anything, and he never came back. 

This was….it. A new life without your love. 

Empty, hollow, broken. Just like him - and now you. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii​ @zeharilisharaban​ @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn  @aamxxrii @codeinebelle ​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.  

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”  

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”  

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.  

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”  

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.  

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.  

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”  

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”  

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.  

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”  

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”  

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”  

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”  

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.  

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”    

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”  

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”  

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.  

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.  

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.  

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.  

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.  

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.  

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.  

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.  

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.  

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.  

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”  

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”  

“What happened?”  

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”  

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.  

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.  

“Jungkook-oppa?”  

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”  

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.  

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-  

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.  

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”  

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.  

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.  

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”  

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?  

“It’s the subdural space.”  

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.  

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.  

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.  

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.  

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.  

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”  

“Are you sure?” she retorts.  

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?  

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.  

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”  

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.  

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”  

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”  

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.  

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.  

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.  

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”  

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His  scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”  

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”  

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit. 

© joontier 2021

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 11

Chapter Selection

Hotch texted me later that night but it was to tell me that we couldn't do anything later because he needed to deal with Hayley. She had wanted Jack that night but Hotch wanted him for one more day. 

Chloe ended up never coming home, it had been almost two days since the last time I saw her. 

I tried calling her but she never picked up. I was starting to get worried. 

I sat up from the couch and grabbed my car keys. I locked the front door behind me, going down the stairs and into my car. 

I drove out of the lot and to the house where that party was held. When I got to the house It looked the same as before, except for the student but that was expected. 

I walked up to the door and knocked a few times, waiting for an answer. When there wasn't one I tried to open the door, it was unlocked. 

Going inside I saw the same thing I had that night, people were on the floor but not as many as before. I carefully stepped around the bodies and there she was, passed out on the floor in the corner. 

I walked over to her and she was cold, I swear. 

Checking her pulse, it was weak. She was still alive but she needed a hospital. I gently picked her up and carried her outside. What the hell happened when I left. 

I was asking questions to myself, ones that only the people in that house knew.

Calling the ambulance I gave them the address and waited for them to arrive. 

When they pulled up the paramedics took Chloe but I told them about the other people inside. 

The majority of them were knocked out, some of them I remember seeing when I left. I rode in the ambulance with Chloe and made sure she was okay. 

Y/n - Just letting you know Chloe and I aren't going to be in class today

Hotch - Oh... ok can I at least have a reason. Mainly because there's going to be a decent amount of homework today

Y/n - She's in the hospital... I'm with her now just to be safe. Can you give the homework later

Hotch - Yeah I don't mind, I can come by the hospital later 

Y/n - Thank you

I put my phone away and was staring at Chloe. Her skin was very pale, the color had literally drained from her body. The doctors were running tests to see what the problem was. 

They didn't know what was wrong with the problem was for any of the students. I felt bad for leaving when I did, maybe I could've helped them... helped her. 

"How are we doing in here?", I looked up from her bed and saw her doctor walking inside the room. "She's still unconscious, I know you guys just took the tests but do you know why she’s like... this." The doctor flipped through the chart that he brought in with him. 

"She had a Blood Alcohol Content of 0.35. That level of intoxication can be fatal if she had continued to drink. We're giving her IV fluids to try and dilute the alcohol in her system but there isn't much we can do in this situation other than wait. 

It's good you found her when you did, she would've died of hypothermia if she'd been there any longer." 

The doctor walked over to the side of her bed and took her vitals checking her, heart rate, blood pressure, and o2 stats. He started going out of the room. "When she wakes up, let us know." 

I nodded and he left. I was left In the room with Chloe who after an hour or two got some color back. 

As I waited for either her to wake up or Hotch came by I sat in the chair next to her bed and turned on the tv. Trying to find something to watch at a hospital is so difficult when they only have a limited amount of channels. Giving up I shut the tv off and got on my phone. 

Seeing a text that Hotch was at the hospital. 

Already. It was nearing 10am meaning his class was already over. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me because I missed it but I shrugged it off when I saw Hotch come through the doors. 

"How's she doing?", was the first thing he said when he came in. I stood up going over to him, "Better, she almost died from alcohol poisoning, I knew she drank but not like this. Not this recklessly." He placed a reassuring hand on my lower back, "She'll be fine. I'm sure of it." 

"I know that... I just should've been with her, I left her at the party thinking she was going to stumble her way into the apartment like usual." 

"Don't blame yourself, I've done that enough in my life. It never turns out good." I sighed leaning into him, his hand rested on my hip. Hotch leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple, we both tense realizing what he just did. I stayed in place and so did he, both of us nervous to move. 

We couldn't stay like that forever so I gazed up at him. He was already looking at me, we both softly smiled at each other and I pulled him closer. I felt the tension leave his body as he relaxed into my touch. 

He leaned down and whispered into my ear, "Add that to the things we need to talk about later." I nodded not saying a word. He stayed there with me the whole time I was at the hospital. Chloe never woke up and it was getting late. 

Hotch offered me a ride, because I rode in with the ambulance, my car was left at the house. He drove back to the house and dropped me off. "We are going to have that talk?", he handed me the homework he assigned as I got out of the car. 

"Yeah... we will. I wanna have that talk but before we can I- need to do some homework that my professor assigned for tonight." He looked at the road ahead then back at me. 

"Okay, just tell me when." 

"Got it", Hotch made sure I got to my car okay then drove off back home to be with Jack. I started the car and sighed. I had no clue what he even talked about in class, I was probably going to half ass it. 

I went home and tossed my homework on the bed. I walked in the bathroom and stripped my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing the cigarette burns from my parents. 

My fingers lingered the small burns then traveled to my temple, remembering the kiss that was left there earlier in the day. 

My lips turned upward at the thought. 

Stepping into the shower, I let the water wash over me. Grabbing the shampoo and massaging it into my hair. Getting the body wash and running it over my skin. Thinking about how I have more homework to do, how I have to get the work from my other classes. 

I got out and quickly brushed my teeth, it was 8:30pm. Having time to complete the work, I got changed putting on an oversized hoodie, some boy shorts, and turning on music. I sat on my bed and pulled out the papers.

 Laying out every sheet which wasn't a lot compared to the work I was going to get from the other classes. I took out my notes and started reading over them and comparing them to the questions flying through them. 

I understood this better than I thought I was going to. But just to be sure I called Hotch because he would know, obviously. Would he give me the answers... if I asked really nicely maybe. 

The phone was ringing, "What is it?"

"I need help on a question", he chuckled. "Which one?" I glanced over the paper, reminding myself of the question. "What was reflected from Ed Gein's crimes." 

"That's it why don't you look it up?"

"I don't want the internet help", I was flipping through my notes trying to find something. I didn't know much about Ed Gein. The only thing I 'knew' about him is he was the inspiration of Texas Chainsaw.

"You want my help", I could hear the grin that was on his face. He liked that I wanted his help. 

"Shut up", we both shared a laugh. He gave me the answer right after and we hung up the phone. I scribbled down the answer finishing the work. It was 10pm when I closed everything up, making sure the door was locked, windows were closed. 

I put my books away in my bag and laid down in bed. Sleep tugged at me but I was startled awake when someone knocked on my door. Groaning I stood up and dragged myself over to the door, opening it and saw the person standing in front of me. 

"Hi." 

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 10: Storge I

SFW Version Here

Summary: There is some discussion of Kabbhalic lore in the beginning but this chapter and the next focuses mainly on the parental relationships Julius and Aika present. They certainly feel their age.

Notes:

- Ive split another massive chapter in half sighhhh. This is 5279 words and I’ve written 7.3k already but I still haven’t reached the ending I wanted so I just split it.


- I know Yami and William haven’t made an appearance yet but they will. This chapter will shed some light on how Julius and Marx’s relationship and how proud he is that Marx grew up from an antsy young boy in his squad to a dependable young man by his side.
-There’s like 2-3 sentences where its NSFW but besides that, nothing much sorry folks ajskjlk

Tagging: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare​

Aika observed the dirty grimoire with one part apprehension and one part excitement. It was the first time she encountered a devil-possessed item without any supervision. A weg magic user that had come to Spade Nation War College as a guest speaker to her class had shown her how to recognize and deal with Devils. They were often best left alone in their sealed states whether they were friendly or not unless you wanted to make a pact. Though Aika’s curiosity was piqued, she had no interest in any other Devil except for one specific one, but he wasn’t heeding her calls or summons so she had lost any interest in becoming a host, especially considering the downsides.

There was no doubt there was a devil in there. She could feel the familiar mana from the Underworld. Aika cracked open the spine and stared in shock at the familiar writing. It was the same runic scripture from her own grimoire. She flipped through pages, skimming them. They all spoke of multiple different swords. Now, she had lightly studied grimoire magic over the years for fun because she found it fascinating how the countries in the Four Suits continent determined their borders purely based on the symbol on the grimoires. So she knew the basics such as checking the grimoire to see if anyone’s mana was connected to it and it wasn’t. This means that she could keep it and study it. If she took off her gloves, she could even make contact with the devil if she wanted to, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Aika looked up at her protégés as they stared warily at the book in her hand.

“What are your thoughts on this grimoire? What is so unusual and exciting about it?” She asked testingly. They needed to discern what it was from their own knowledge.

“Well, according to Clover Kingdom mythos,” Ellie began. “The three leaves symbolize hope, faith, and love. In the fourth leaf, a formation which occurred 500 years ago with the first Wizard King’s grimoire, contains luck. But according to legend,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “In the fifth leaf, there is a demon.”

“Do you think there is a demon in this grimoire?” Aika asked lightly.

Evan shivered before he answered, “There is definitely a devil in it. It reeks of the Underworld.”

She snapped the book shut and squinted at the anti-bird. Still strange how it was still here.

“Yes, you are right there is a devil in here,” she confirmed. They all tensed.

“What should we do? Should we kill it?” Jayce asked, his voice slightly shaking.

“No,” Aika shook her head and she crossed her legs again. “You don’t kill devils unless absolutely necessary.” She opened her backpack and stuck the grimoire carefully in it, willing it to be placed on top of her research table in her not-so-little study space in her loft.

“What?! Why?!”

“Because the very existence of devils obscures most of God’s Light and allows reality to exist. Killing them is counter-intuitive. You only kill them when they are unshackled and out in the human realm. This devil is very neatly sealed in this grimoire so no worries,” Aika explained as she smiled demurely. Their panic was quite amusing, especially when they are noticeably frustrated with her nonchalant attitude.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” Ellie asked carefully.

“Very.” She put the tea set away. “Now, if that is all, you may stand at ease.”

Their shoulders slackened and Ellie slinked over to her side and sat down next to her with a sigh.

“I can’t believe we are still brushing over the devil,” she murmured as she rested her head on Aika’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. When I have recovered, I will make sure the devil is safe before I take you guys to interact with it.” She carefully patted Ellie’s mass of white curls.

Evan sat in the armchair to her right as Jayce picked up a book from the stacks around them and flipped through it.

“I’m in no hurry to talk to a devil, ” he began as he absentmindedly traced the pages in the book. He snapped it shut with a wicked grin. “But I do want to know everything about you and the Wizard King.”

They all rolled their eyes at his theatrics. Aika shifted in her seat, quickly categorizing information that she was willing to share and details that were better left to herself. She found that this method was better than completely shutting herself out from people as per her first instinct.

“What exactly do you want to know about the Wizard King and I?” She asked as she wrapped her arm around Ellie. “There’s a lot to know.”

“Ooooooh,” Jayce plopped down in front of her like a kid at storytime and gave her his brightest smile. “How did you two meet? How did you get so close? ” He winked. Even Evan, who was usually understanding of Aika’s reluctance to share information, leaned forward as she braced herself to tell them the barest details at the very least.

She told them about her first encounter with him that night and the captain’s meeting and the assassination attempt at her home.

The three listened to her story and watched in great interest as Aika grew more and more animated, an easy smile gracing her face and a twinkle in her eye as she spoke of the Wizard King. It was fascinating to see their boss grow less and less reserved as time went by and what little time she had spent with the King had sped the process up. The more she smiled, the younger she seemed, happier, more carefree, and very undoubtedly in love.

Aika grew more somber when she talked of today. They knew of her condition and how it was dangerous to spend too much time around her. It was why they valued the time they spent with her so much. It saddened them to hear about how she had to reject him so many times when she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“But if it truly doesn’t affect him…” Aika’s gaze fell to the side. “Then I may have a chance.”

At love. She left unsaid, but they knew. They knew her well.

“There’s always an exception,” Ellie whispered soberly. “And if his words are to be believed, then he may be it.”

They all stayed quietly for a moment, and as if to herald the end of the storytime, Evan, Ellie and Jayce’s stomachs growled in unison.

Aika was the first to laugh. A tinkling kind of sound like windchimes swaying in the summer wind. They quickly joined in after the momentary shock, a sort of happiness bubbling in their chests to see her smile so freely after all these years.

“I’ve made flat bread and curry for dinner. Would you two like so—”

“Yes!”

Aika chuckled and opened her backpack. Ellie dove headfirst without warning and Jayce soon followed. She carefully helped Evan step into it as the anti-bird perched on top of him again. As he disappeared into the void, Aika set her backpack down next to the sofa in an innocuous spot. Satisfied, she climbed in and closed the flap above her. Light brighter than the study flooded her vision. She kept her loft well-lit and tidy for the most part so she was fine having guests today. Aika heard a faint “wheeee” as Jayce slid down the pole to get to the bottom floor.

When you walk further into the living room that first greets you, there was a L-shaped railing that overlooked a spacious opening to the bottom floor. There was a break in the railing for a spiral staircase and a pole which Jayce had always loved to use.

The anti-bird she had allowed into her home flitted around, exploring the open kitchen to her right and the rooms in the hallway adjacent to the railing. Evan and Ellie were already setting up plates and utensils on the table in the dining area.

Aika walked past them with a tired smile and quickly heated up curry and bread with the firestone on hand and a touch of her Time magic. She placed them carefully on the table just as Jayce launched himself into his seat. It may be rather late in the night, but he was still full of boundless energy.

Ellie helped serve the food and Aika muttered a small prayer before they dug in.

“There was something off about the Wizard King, wasn’t there?” Ellie remarked innocuously. Aika looked at her curiously. She motioned her to elaborate as she spooned some curry.

“I stood where you two were, er, standing and the remnants of your mana felt like they were the same yet completely different.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a heartbeat, if that information means anything to you.”

“He’s not the undead. He certainly has a lot of mana,” Evan added.

“Is that why you are pursuing him while still keeping him at an arm’s length, Miss?” Jayce asked suddenly. They all looked at him in shock. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “You could never resist a mystery after all.”

Aika stared at him evenly and his gaze never wavered from hers. Anger initially shot through her at his words but she held her tongue. She couldn’t be mad at him for discerning part of the truth. She was known for her lack of patience but she had lately been trying to better herself and she asked for the three infront of her to help her in this. Ellie and Evan were patient with her when she lost her temper while Jayce was the only one with the courage to test her, keep her on her toes so she wouldn’t one day explode.

“That’s not completely true,” she finally answered. Julius’ smile replayed in her head and she felt a lot calmer, a little happy even.

“I do genuinely like him.” She looked down at her plate. Her breath stuttered when she remembered his laugh, his eyes, the way his soft hair threaded between her fingers. Aika couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face.

“I must admit, he is the only one that makes me laugh and smile like that.”

“And what are we for doing all that too? Chopped liver?” Jayce snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly. She rolled her eyes at that.

“You guys make me smile in a way mother smiles when her children do stupid things,” she quickly retorted. “Or when they make her proud—”

“You think of us as your children?” Ellie interrupted breathlessly.

Aika gaped at her for a moment. She had accidentally let it slip hadn’t she? It’s been too long since she had to be so careful and alert and she was losing practice. And she was especially close with these three so her guard was completely down.

She hesitated before she answered, “Well, yes—” Ellie hugged her arm tight and Jayce was suddenly behind her, arms wrapped around her neck. Evan stayed put in his spot but his shoulders were hunched as he smiled shyly at the plate in front of him, a pleased blush high on his tanned cheek.

“We’re glad you think so.”

Aika stiffened at the sudden touch. Did they really want to be that close to her? Then it hit her. Of course they thought of her as a mother. They were orphans, she had rescued them from their various dangerous situations, taught them valuable lessons, protected them, gave them means to better themselves.

Oh.

She relaxed in their hold. She had more than one child, didn’t she? “I—” I love you guys. She wanted to say, but the words were lodged in her throat. She had a severe aversion to that particular sentiment. It saddened her that she couldn’t comfortably say the words she wanted to say.

Jayce slinked back into his seat and they continued eating.

“If he makes you happy in a way nobody else does,” Evan spoke first, changing the subject for her sake. “Be as careful as you want to be before you get together.”

Ellie hummed in agreement with him. “But you also have to make it clear that while you are keeping him at an arm’s length, that you still like him, or he would take your distance as disinterest.”

“We want you to be happy, but we just hope you just don’t get hurt like last time.” Aika smiled gratefully at all three of them. They were no longer children. They were wise beyond their years and people she could depend on.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely and cleared her throat with a blush as they giggled.

They thanked her for the food and helped wash the dishes before they all climbed out, ready to turn in for the night.

Ellie, Evan and Jayce wrapped Aika in a group hug, coaxing a joyful laugh out of her.

“Good night!” They exclaimed in unison before they shut the door to study behind them.

When they left, Aika grinned and buried her face in her hands. Her whole family died when she was just sixteen and she had wandered this plane of existence for decades, making friends along the way but they all had their own lives. She forcefully planted her feet in Clover Kingdom to protect it but along the way, she had found a family again. Her uncle, aunt, her daughter, whatever Arthur meant to her, Ellie, Evan and Jayce.

She felt an indescribable giddiness as she activated her Mana Hands spell to rearrange the stacks of books around her back into their places on the shelves. This was what she was looking for all these years. She didn’t even need Julius. This was all that she needed. –

Julius closed the door behind him and shifted the painting back into place so it was covered. He leaned his head against the canvas as he exhaled.

There was an unmistakable force pulling them towards each other every single time. First, that night, then the Captain’s meeting, that moment on the battlefield, then today again.

What in the world was wrong with him? Never in his life had he felt so lost. His whole life that he only ever needed magic and the power to do good in this world but what was this squeezing sensation in his chest?

“One month,” she said. One whole month. He thought about the way her eyes lit up at the Captain’s meeting, the palpable relief when she realized there were no hard feelings, the intent way she looked at him when she slipped off her blindfold.

Julius pressed his hand to his mouth as a blush suffused through his cheeks.

Oh, he was down bad.

He had always kept these sorts of interactions at an arms-length. One-offs were fine but what was so different about her? He just became Wizard King yet she consumed his thoughts. He was supposed to be thinking about the future of his kingdom not—

‘She held you like no other.’ His voice whispered in his head. ‘You have always protected others but you felt warmth and safety for the first time in the crook of her neck and her tight embrace.’ No one had ever dared to hug him and touch him like that. No one had ever kissed him so sweetly, and with that same mouth called him a “good boy” and made him see stars.

His hand clawed at the painting behind him as he pressed his legs together.

Julius let out a breathy laugh.

This was not the time.

He stared at the voluminous stack of papers on his new desk. His desk as Wizard King. He felt the crushing weight of that title again for the second time that day. He walked up to it, his fingers lightly tracing the edges as he stepped onto the side where he had rarely ever been.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He looked around the corner less office, cold and empty in every way. There was no fireplace, only torches that lined the walls.

Why was the room so big anyways? It should have a few couches at the very least to have comfortable conversations over tea instead of the vast barrier that the desk was sure to put up.

Julius turned around and faced the view he used to envy as a Captain. The giant, arched windows looked out over the Clover Kingdom from its highest peak. The sun had set hours ago but the bright, purple glow of the wisteria trees at the base of the tower was both exhilarating and calming.

He took a deep breath and faced his desk. He ought to finish at least one stack of papers. He filled up the fountain pen with ink and sat down heavily. Julius began with the paper on the top. It was a report from the Crimson Lion Kings.

Well, that piqued his curiosity.

He had always dealt with his own squad’s affairs and some collaborative missions with other squads but he didn’t know the specifics of the internal affairs in each squad.

The report wasn’t from Leonardo, it was in fact from his son and the new captain, Fuegoleon. From the lengthy conversation he had with the Vermillion during the banquet, he could tell that he was a hardworking, young man who was eager to do his job. He also inferred from their talk that he didn’t particularly care for anyone’s class or background unlike his father so he had high hopes for the Crimson Lions to set a good example for the rest of the squads. The most recent reports were all about how the battlefield was being cleaned up and about the dead. He genuinely focused on his work for half an hour before slowing down.

He was so tired. So much had happened today and the words in front of him began to look like scribbles. Perhaps he shouldn’t have exhausted himself so much…

A knock sounded on his door, jolting him from his thoughts.

Julius cleared his throat and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Marx, Lord Julius,” he called out, a little surprised he was actually in there.

“Come in.”

Marx stepped into the room, eyes alert as he examined the big office. When his eyes landed on Julius, they softened, happy that he seemed to be working.

“Are you working, sir?” He asked as he moved closer.

“Yes, Marx.” He smiled lightly. “May I help you with something?”

“No, sir,” He shifted his new cloak. “I was just making sure you were working, sir, and offer my congratulations once again.”

Julius set his quill down as he sat up straighter.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve worked so hard to get here and I am so grateful you chose me of all people to be your advisor, sir.”

A smile grew on Julius’s face as he regarded the young man in front of him. He was only 20 years old and Julius had only known him for the last 5 but he had a special place in his heart. He may not be a superb fighter but Julius saw his value in other places. He took Marx into his squad for his brilliant memory magic, his work ethic, and his unique ability to be the only person who could stand up to him and keep him in line. And now, he couldn’t think of a better person to make sure he didn’t stray his path.

“Of course, Marx. I know you will be the one to make sure I do my job right,” He added with a laugh.

Outside of family, Marx was one of the handful of people who was truly close to him and could stand up to him. Even as a 15-year-old magic knight, whenever Marx would find him trying to sneak away, he never hesitated to berate his captain and made sure he worked. With time, Julius had come to see that he was also a hard worker and was one of the few people who could successfully curb his propensity to slack off. If it wasn’t for Marx, he would’ve neglected his paperwork all together.

Yet, there was one more person who began to worm his way into his heart.

“Though, I have to say, there is one more person who you may see often as you work whom you haven’t met yet.”

“Sir?”

“She is a private consultant who used to work for the previous Wizard King and she had offered to work for me as well,” Julius explained as he laced his hands together.

“She?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. That was an unexpected remark. “Yes, Marx. She’s a woman. I hope you don’t have any issues with that.”

He threw his hands up as he shook his head. “No, sir. That’s not the issue. I just never heard of any women in particular that could be a consultant for the Wizard King.”

Julius laughed, slightly relieved that Marx wasn’t that kind of a person.

“You wouldn’t know her. She likes her privacy and used to only work in the shadows,” he explained as he cast his eyes down.

Marx observed his melancholic demeanor. Why does speaking of her make him feel so down?

“What’s her name, sir?” Julius’s eyes flicked up. “Her name?” He steeled himself for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. “It’s Aika Tolliver.”

His eyes immediately widened in recognition.

“M-Madam Tolliver?”

Julius cocked his head at him. Madam?

“Yes? Do you know her?”

“Yes, my older brother used to be the head of communications in her company.” His voice wavered as he clenched his fists. “He was recently promoted to president. But why would she be a consultant to the Wizard King?!”

Julius was taken aback by all that he had just told him. Marx spoke very rarely of his estranged brother, Karl, and he never knew that Aika knew him. And what exactly does he mean why she was a consultant to him?

“What do you mean by that, Marx?”

“Sir, she has a bad reputation for using forbidden magic,” He whispered urgently.

Julius stared at him blankly.

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes. A Wizard King sometimes needs a licensed forbidden-magic user to deal with some unsavory things. She is also an amazing strategist and has experience in warfare for reasons I am still unaware. ” He added quietly as he picked at his quill. “We’ve talked for hours about a lot of things.” A lot of things indeed. “And I know she will be crucial in the future.”

Marx was about to object again but quieted at the stern look Julius gave him. He sighed as he clenched his fists by his sides, his light blue hair tickling his cheeks as he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“I will try to keep an open mind, sir.”

“Thank you, Marx.” He looked down at the papers, his smile falling. “I will see if I could introduce you tomorrow. I’m assuming you haven’t met her properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that’s settled.”

He stood there quietly as he watched Julius sign a paper with a flourish. Marx knew the man a lot better than most people and he knew that Julius would be ecstatic that he was finally the Wizard King and maybe even goof off a bit but right now, he was much too somber.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Julius looked up, surprised he was still here. He was far too lost in his thoughts. He opened his mouth and stopped. Marx didn’t need to know about Aika. He rubbed the back of his head as he forced his best natural laugh.

“Yeah, of course I’m fine, Marx! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you would usually be more excited on finally achieving your ambitions and…you wouldn’t be working…”

…He’s right.

“Well, I have simply realized the weight of my new title and I suppose that is what is making me more serious.” That technically wasn’t a lie. Julius mentally patted himself on the back for that.

Marx grinned, a giddy sort of feeling washing over him.

“Does this mean you will finally be serious about your paperwork, sir?!”

That was not what he meant.

“Wait, no!” Marx’s expression fell. “I mean yes! Of course I will do my paperwork!” His advisor’s face could not look any more disappointed. He quickly needed to change the subject before he got lectured again. “Speaking of paperwork, I think I will feel motivated to do it if I’m in a better setting like a study, you know? There’s a Wizard King’s study and it’s desk is longer and faces the windows so I would have an amazing view to keep me energized. And I would also be surrounded by a lot of books and I would feel so studious and motivated!” 

That seemed to have caught Marx’s attention. He had never heard of study. “I would like to show it to you tomorrow and we could both explore it. Does that sound good?”

“But sir, you have to tour the squad bases and then you have to hold your first meeting with all the Captains—”

“We will explore the study after that, okay?”

“But then, there’s a lot of paperwork that—”

“Marx,” Julius addressed him patiently as he held his gaze. “Taking breaks is important, you know?”

“And all you want to take are breaks, sir,” Marx replied with an imperceptible roll of his eyes.

Julius laughed.

“I promise I will be productive!” – Aika threw her crimson cloak on, a cloak she had worn since her days with Mereoleona. She quickly examined her trousers for any odd wrinkles and stacked the needed papers for a meeting she had in 20 minutes.

She felt much, much better after speaking to Ellie, Evan and Jayce and Julius seemed like the type to be more casual about such things and not let them get in the way of work. She was rather worried it might because her Uncle told her that Julius gets distracted easily. She couldn’t meet up with him and talk today because she would be occupied, especially since she accepted Lord Silva’s invitation for tea.

Aika reached for her communicator to call for Ellie, but she tensed and quickly pointed her daggers at the person who teleported into the study.

“Mom!”

Her shoulders slackened and a tired smile softened her face as she dropped to crouch. Aika enveloped Holly in a tight hug as she giggled. She loved how her daughter smelled like roses and apples, though they smell the same. She pulled back and pressed light kisses on her cheeks and smiled indulgently.

“Hello, Holly. You are here to spend time at the CLK base right?”

“Yeah! Uncle Fueggy said I could play with the lions and I thought I should congratulate him for becoming captain too! I made biscuits and wore my crimson cloak.” She spun on her heel, showing it off.

“That’s really nice of you dear.” Holly led her mother to the sofas and motioned her to sit down. “Did you make any for me?” She murmured, amused as Holly climbed into her lap and made her wrap her arms around her tiny frame.

“I hoped to give you the leftovers if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine but what if there are no leftovers,” Aika asked, fake hurt lacing her voice.

“I have a plan to make sure there’s leftovers. Don’t worry, Mom,” Holly grinned and sighed contentedly into her mother’s chest. Aika looked down at her curiously, gently rubbing her hair.

“May I know what the plan is?”

“You really want to know?”

Aika let out a short laugh. Only her children could ever sass her like this and get away with it and she must admit, it was very refreshing.

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“Okay, so if Uncle Fueggy didn’t like them too much, you will have some left over. Obviously. But if he liked them and wanted to keep them, and give them to his squad or something, I’ll be like ‘I was going to save some for my mom, but oh well. I’m glad you liked them.’ And then he would feel really guilty and leave some anyways,” she finished with a proud smile.

Aika pursed her lips, tamping down the laughter bubbling in her chest. Holly caught this and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Is something wrong, Mom?”

“No…” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Have you simply thought of maybe just giving me one biscuit to taste or maybe simply telling Fuegoleon to save some for me?”

“What.”

“Yes, I mean it doesn’t have to be that convoluted because Fuegoleon is polite and wouldn’t say no to that and even simpler, giving me one biscuit now would be the simplest solution,” she explained with a laugh.

“Oh.” Holly buried her face in the crook of her neck in embarrassment. “You’re right.”

Aika laughed quietly as she rubbed Holly’s back. No one could make her feel as young and light as her daughter could and she absolutely loved her for it.

Holly peeked at the window between her mother’s arms to check the time. The moment she saw or felt the sun, she could instantly tell what the time was. But she let her jaw fall slightly when she saw an anti-bird perched on the lap. She had never seen one so close.

“Mom, is that a…” She pointed at the bird. Aika followed her gaze and found that the little bird from last night still here.

“Yes, that’s an anti-bird, but it also seems to be an anomaly.”

“Oh, you mean it doesn’t run away from us like other anti-birds?”

“I mean that bird is still avoiding me but seems perfectly fine with others.”

“Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to study how an anti-bird reacts to magic then?”

“What? No! It’s an anomaly so it doesn’t behave like other birds so it’s useless to study it, Holly”

“What about studying the anti-bird for its biology through the possession technique?”

The possession technique is a forbidden magic spell used in the study of animals to possess them and view how the world was from their perspective including the five senses and what instincts activate in any given situation etc. Possession magic only works on other species so a human cannot possess another human unless an attribute explicitly allows that. 

People have tried to use a possession spell on an anti-bird before but like the North and South repel each other, anti-birds have shown to dodge magic at abnormal speeds when magic was thrown at them even in containment. The ongoing theory was that anti-birds actually feel some measure of pain, most probably a lot, the presence of or when in contact with magic.

“An anti-bird’s biology was already studied by people with less magic and it’s no different than a normal bird’s. You don’t have to worry about it—”

The door leading from the Wizard King’s office clicked open. Aika paused as her heart skipped a few beats when she glimpsed the blond hair before the door revealed to the Wizard King in all his glory. She could never get used to that strange yet commanding-looking cloak he wore.

Julius met her gaze and they were lost for words for a few moments. Last night seemed like a fever dream compared to the clarity brought by the daylight. His eyes flickered down to Holly who broke the silence. “Good Morning, Julius!”

Notes: Holly actually plays a bigger role than intended👀👀