#just some quality time in a vacuum

[galaxywhump]

A Lesson in Cooperation

[An Immortal Among Stars Masterlist]

contents: lady whump, immortal whumpee, captivity, a lot of dying, torture, asphyxiation, cutting, implied surgery, briefly mentioned eye gore.

~~~

Every time someone called Karita the immortal, it was terrible news.

She tried to be secretive, and usually she succeeded, but every once in a while someone would find out. There were people strongly attuned to magic of all sorts who could sense something strange about her and piece it together; there were those who simply saw her come back to life; and there were the most mundane ways, finding her old photographs, mentions of her in documents, because no matter how hard she tried, she could never fully erase her existence from the records.

Which meant, of course, that those in power were the most likely to find out about her secret.

"So, you're the immortal I've read so much about," Princex Yari drawled with a sly smile, looking down at Karita, who answered with her best look of confusion.

"Excuse me?" She frowned. "I-I think you got the wrong person. Your Highness," she rushed to add, her eyes widening as she put her entire heart into playing the part of a confused, intimidated mortal.

It rarely worked, and judging by the princex's laughter, this time it did not.

"Don't lie to me," they said, giving one of the guards standing by their side a nod. "I can easily test it."

Karita let out a terrified gasp when the guard handed the princex a dagger, shiny and bejeweled, more of a beautiful accessory than a weapon.

"No, please!" she choked out, struggling in the guards' grip. "Please, I swear I don't know what Your Highness is talking about, I'm not immortal!"

"That's just too bad." Yari shrugged, approaching her. "If you're telling the truth… Well, I'm terribly sorry, and I hope you had a good life."

The freezing blade was pressed to her throat, making her shudder, and with a quick precise cut her fate was sealed.

"Have you ever considered becoming an actress?" Yari asked, giddy with excitement, as soon as she came back to life. "I'm sure you'd shine in death scenes."

She glared at them, abandoning her wholehearted impression of normality.

"What do you want from me, Your Highness?" Her voice was dripping with venom.

"Information," they replied, leaning down to be closer to eye level with her. "A lot of information."

"I'm not telling you shit," Karita sneered. She saw stars when her reply earned her a hard slap to the face. It was annoying more than anything, but it drove a different point home: once again, she was a captive, after a mere few years of peace.

"Maybe you won't have to. All I need is your full cooperation."

"That's not gonna happen either."

"Really?" Yari raised one eyebrow, still smiling. "I think my offer is quite sensible, especially considering what will happen if you refuse."

"Oh? Then why don't you tell me about it?"

She had been presented with many offers she couldn't refuse throughout her life. It always turned out that she could, in fact, refuse, and the consequences were bearable. There wasn't much that could scare her into submission.

"Like I said, I need information. Information about the Serpent Cluster.”

Karita frowned. Serpent was a lost cluster, taken over long ago by loosely organized groups of the underworld, now a death sentence to any ship that passed too close. The cluster was being monitored as much as it could be, which wasn’t a lot, and for decades there had been plans and promises to deal with it once and for all, but it wasn’t going to be an easy operation, and as years passed, the groups ruling over the cluster only continued to grow stronger. No-one had been stupidly brave enough to venture there, including Karita - she wouldn’t lose her life in the cluster, sure, but she knew better than anyone that there were fates worse than death.

“I don’t have any.”

“I know,” Yari said with a patient smile. “But you’re going to get it for me.”

“What, you expect me to just waltz in there and ask around?”

“No, of course not. We’ll go with a more stealthy approach.”

“We?” Karita snorted, even as fear started to set in. “I’m not going to cooperate and you know it.”

“Yes, you are. Anyway, the plan is as follows: We’re going to put implants right here.” Before Karita could react, Yari grabbed the sides of her head and ran their thumbs behind her ears, pressing down to the point of pain. “They’re going to record everything you hear while you’re there, and send it directly to us. It’s only sound, but it will have to do for the most part.”

“No?” Karita stared at them in disbelief. “You’re not putting that crap in me.”

Yari sighed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, immortal? I’m a princex. I’m in charge here, and right now I control you. You can act tough all you want. In the end, you’ll do exactly what I want you to do.”

“No,” Karita repeated and shook her head. “You can’t force me. What are you going to threaten me with? Death?”

“Actually, yes. In a way,” Yari laughed, and gestured at the guards, who grabbed Karita by the arms and started leading her - or more like dragging her - out of the room. Her thoughts were racing, her heartbeat frantic, as she tried to guess what the princex had in store for her. She had died more times and in more ways than she could count; mundane, horrific, suicide, murder, freak accidents, magic. She had suffered, she had been mutilated, there was nothing that could sway her and convince her that going to the Serpent Cluster to act as a spy was the better alternative.

She was pretty confident, until she started to realize where she was being taken.

She pulled. She tried to dig her heels in, to stop the guards, to free herself, to do something, and maybe she was wrong, but there it was, the airlock, and two people in spacesuits, and the vast universe outside.

No. 

She was paralyzed with terror at this point, which didn’t happen often - she had learned long ago to act no matter what, to fight through the fear, not let it overpower her, but this-

The star exploded.

She could’ve been there, on one of the destroyed planets, fire, burning, melting, ice, freezing, floating in nothingness, no hope of ever being found.

Sturdy manacles were closed on her wrists and ankles. Yari appeared in front of her, holding a helmet.

“So,” they said, taking in her terrified expression, “it’s just death, isn’t it? You’ll be fine, no matter how long you’re there. I still haven’t decided, to be honest. Let’s say… six hours, and then I’ll ask for your cooperation again. Then… we’ll see.”

"No." The word left her before she could stop herself, and that was it for acting tough. They knew how scared she really was. 

She wasn't going to be there forever, though, or even for several days, months, years. Six hours to start with, after which…

She couldn’t agree. She just couldn’t.

The princex put the helmet on her, but she already suspected it was only temporary - she didn't have a spacesuit or any protective magic, and a helmet offered a sliver of protection that her newest captor obviously didn't want her to have. The two guards in spacesuits grabbed her and pulled her towards the airlock, and she struggled, she did, but there was absolutely nothing she could do.

Immortality couldn't save her from this.

The hatch behind them closed, the one in front of them opened, and she was pushed into a nightmare.

Freezing pressure immediately surrounded her body and her breath caught in her throat. The guards wasted no time attaching a tether to the manacles on her ankles. There was no sympathy, no hesitation in their actions as they followed their orders, testing the tether, then taking the helmet off Karita, leaving her head unprotected from the ruthless vacuum.

They pushed her further away from the spaceship - the tether was long enough for that - and left her to die.

The first time she did, she wasn’t sure what was happening. She was freezing, but at the same time her blood and saliva were boiling and- She passed out.

When she came back to life, there was a layer of ice on her face, and she screamed soundlessly when she felt her eyes boiling too, an agony she had never experienced before. The vacuum was pushing, squeezing her body, compressing her lungs, she ran out of the meager amount of air she came back to life with, and passed out again.

She had read about this, just like she had read about every potential deadly situation she’d heard of, imagining what it would feel like, learning how to survive it, if there even was a way. The source of that particular report was a gnarly one, shady experiments on unwilling human subjects in a magically recreated contained vacuum; it wasn’t a publicly available document, but she had to find it, and she succeeded, only to be plagued by nightmares for days.

The subjects lost consciousness after ten to fifteen seconds.

She plummeted into darkness more merciful than that surrounding her, speckled with stars.

Death occurred around the ninety second mark.

She gasped when she came back to life, only for the vacuum to take all of her air, as if pulling it out of her, leaving her struggling weakly until her brain shut down again.

Deceased subjects recovered after 24 hours were frozen solid.

How long had it been? Karita was in no state to try and count the moments of consciousness, short, and yet feeling like an eternity. Freezing, boiling alive, suffocating, struggling, suffering, with no end in sight, unless it had been three, four, five hours already and she was going to be taken back soon, but it might as well have only been half an hour.

There was also the possibility that Yari was going to leave her like this for much, much longer. Maybe they were watching this, enjoying her pain and panic, or maybe they couldn’t handle it. Based on what was happening to her body, she could only imagine what she looked like.

This could be her eternity. The tether was the only promise that she was going to be brought back eventually, but if it failed, or if someone undid it, she would have no anchor. Restrained, and dying too often to be able to do much anyway, she’d be left at the mercy of space until she could no longer remember what it was like to be anywhere else.

It never got more bearable. If anything, it was even worse than she had imagined and feared for so long. She couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t strong enough.

Resigned, she died. She died. She died. She woke up in the grip of two guards.

She was inside the spaceship again. Every breath was agony. She managed to look up and saw the princex, who smiled at her and said something, but she couldn’t make out their words. The bejeweled dagger shined in their hand, was pressed to her throat, and sent her back into darkness.

“So? Do I have your full cooperation?” Yari asked when Karita opened her eyes.

It was always strange to come back to life free from pain. She had just spent hours in agony, and now it was only a memory. Her clothes and face were damp, but at least not frozen anymore - the temperature must have been cranked up to make her thaw out faster. 

She should refuse, but the thought of being out there again filled her with panic that made it hard to breathe. The Serpent Cluster really did seem like the better option.

“Yes.” She wanted to simply nod at first, but she had to make sure she could still talk.

“Good. I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself and… clean yourself up.” The princex grimaced and scrunched their nose. “Then we can proceed.”

She was dragged to a bathroom, and she was glad it had no mirrors. She sat in the shower with her eyes closed to avoid looking at what the water was washing off of her until she was forced to leave when one of the guards knocked on the door insistently.

The walk to the medbay felt like walking to the gallows, and she was barely aware of what was happening; her body was walking down the corridor, but her mind was somewhere else. They made her lie down on her stomach on the operating table, tied her hair into a tight bun so it wouldn’t get in the way, and hooked her up to machinery she didn’t even bother to try and recognize.

They were merciful enough to sedate her before the procedure, and someone even reassured her that there was no chance of complications, as if it mattered much in her case, as if what they were doing was supposed to help her. That was never the case - as soon as she lost consciousness, they got to work turning her into an unwilling spy, nothing more than a tool.

~~~

taglist: @stab-the-son-of-a

[ana13dsouza]

Why Carpet Cleaning Is Essential for Homes with Pets in Harrow

Why Carpet Cleaning Is Essential for Homes with Pets in Harrow

Having pets in your home can bring immense joy and companionship, but it also comes with its set of challenges—especially when it comes to maintaining a clean and healthy living environment. One area that often suffers is your carpets. Pets shed hair, track in dirt, and sometimes have accidents, leaving behind stains, odors, and allergens that can affect both your home and your health. For pet owners in Harrow, professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow are essential in keeping your carpets clean and your home healthy.

The Challenge of Pet Hair and Dander

One of the most common issues faced by pet owners is the accumulation of pet hair. Regardless of the breed, most pets shed their fur to some extent, and this can accumulate in your carpets, making it difficult to maintain a clean home. Pet hair can also be a major source of allergens, affecting people with sensitivities or asthma. Regular vacuuming can help, but it often fails to fully remove hair that has embedded deep within the carpet fibers. This is where professional carpet cleaner in Harrow services can make a significant difference.

Carpet cleaning specialists use advanced equipment and techniques to extract pet hair and dander effectively. The powerful suction and specialized brushes used by professionals ensure that your carpets are free from unwanted fur, helping to improve the air quality in your home and reduce allergic reactions. Furthermore, carpet cleaning can remove built-up dander that may not be visible but can cause discomfort for sensitive individuals.

Eliminating Pet Odors

Pet odors are another common issue in homes with animals. Even the most well-trained pets can have accidents, and their urine can seep deep into carpet fibers, causing persistent odors that are hard to eliminate. Over time, the smell can become ingrained in the carpet, making it difficult for regular cleaning methods to provide a solution.

Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow are equipped to deal with these tough odors. They use specially formulated cleaning agents that neutralize pet urine and other organic stains, rather than just masking the smell. Additionally, the deep cleaning process removes bacteria and germs that contribute to unpleasant odors, leaving your carpets smelling fresh and clean.

Removing Stains and Spots

Pets often leave behind visible stains, whether from accidents, muddy paws, or spilled food and water. These stains can be a challenge to remove with DIY methods, and if left untreated, they can become permanent. Pet stains not only ruin the appearance of your carpets, but they can also penetrate deeper into the fibers, making it harder to clean them thoroughly.

Carpet cleaning services in Harrow can help by providing specialized stain removal treatments. These services target specific types of stains, such as urine, feces, or vomit, and ensure they are completely removed from the carpet. In addition to improving the appearance of your carpets, this process helps to restore the hygiene and health of your home.

Reducing Allergens and Improving Air Quality

Carpets are known to trap allergens like dust mites, pollen, and pet dander. For individuals with allergies or respiratory issues, this can be a significant problem. Pet dander, in particular, is a common trigger for allergic reactions, and it can be challenging to eliminate from carpets without professional help.

A professional carpet cleaner in Harrow can remove these allergens by using high-powered vacuums and deep cleaning techniques. This process helps to improve the overall air quality in your home, making it a more comfortable environment for those who suffer from allergies or asthma. By investing in regular carpet cleaning, you can create a cleaner, healthier space for both your family and your pets.

Prolonging the Life of Your Carpets

Pets can cause wear and tear on your carpets. From scratching to tracking in dirt and debris, pets contribute to the degradation of carpet fibers over time. This can lead to the premature replacement of your carpets, which can be costly. Regular cleaning, however, can help prolong the life of your carpets by removing dirt and debris that cause damage to the fibers.

By hiring a professional carpet cleaner in Harrow, you can ensure that your carpets remain in excellent condition for a longer period. The deep cleaning process removes dirt, dust, and other contaminants that can break down the fibers and cause wear. This helps to preserve the appearance of your carpets and reduces the need for costly replacements.

Maintaining a Clean and Safe Home for Pets

Your pet's health is important, and a clean home plays a significant role in maintaining it. Pets are naturally curious and may spend a lot of time on the floor, where they come into contact with dirt, allergens, and bacteria. Regular carpet cleaning not only ensures that your carpets look clean but also helps to eliminate any harmful substances that could affect your pet's health.

Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow use safe, pet-friendly cleaning solutions that are gentle on your carpets but tough on dirt and stains. These non-toxic cleaners help to create a safe environment for your pets, without exposing them to harmful chemicals. This gives you peace of mind, knowing that your pet can enjoy a clean and healthy home.

Why Professional Carpet Cleaning Is Worth the Investment

While it might seem tempting to clean your carpets yourself, especially with over-the-counter products, the results often don’t match the level of cleaning that professionals can achieve. DIY methods may be effective for surface cleaning, but they don’t offer the deep cleaning needed to tackle embedded pet hair, odors, and stains.

Investing in carpet cleaning services in Harrow ensures that your carpets receive a thorough, professional cleaning that removes all pet-related issues. Professional cleaners have the experience, equipment, and products necessary to provide a level of cleanliness that is hard to achieve with DIY methods. Plus, they can help prevent future problems, such as the buildup of allergens and bacteria, by providing ongoing maintenance.

Conclusion

Carpet cleaning is essential for households with pets, not only to maintain the appearance of your home but also to ensure a healthy living environment for both your family and your pets. Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow can tackle the toughest issues caused by pets, from hair and odors to allergens and stains. By investing in regular carpet cleaning, you can protect your carpets, improve the air quality in your home, and create a cleaner, safer space for your pets. So, if you're a pet owner in Harrow, make sure to prioritize professional carpet cleaning to keep your home looking and feeling its best.

#CarpetCleaning #PetOwners #HarrowHomes #CleanCarpets #PetHair #Allergens #CarpetCare #HealthyHome #CarpetCleaningServicesInHarrow

[foldingfittedsheets]

There’s a very deep vein of paranoia on my mom’s side of the family. Growing up I was filled with dire warnings of being robbed and raped with wild abandon if I didn’t constantly keep my guard up.

My nana once refused to sit down in my home and relax because I hadn’t locked the door behind her. In broad daylight. In a condo community with kids running and laughing in the parking lot. My mom has often spewed vitriol about how she’d never trust anyone to come into her home for any reason.

Even while acknowledging how unhinged it all sounded some part of it lodged into my mind.

So now I find myself having to overcome this instilled distrust. The worst of this manifests in that I desperately want a house cleaner. I cannot even explain how much it would improve my quality of life to have a bi-weekly or even just a monthly run through to help with dusting, vacuuming, all the nooks and crannies we never get to.

Every time I look at rates I pine for how nice that would be and how I could use some commission money to justify the expense and every time the snarling feral thing my mom created in the back of my mind insists that it would be cataclysmic to let someone into my home and that I’d surely get robbed.

Like. Our stuff isn’t even nice, and it’s insane that a reputable company would allow that to happen but I always close the tab without booking.

[wosola]

Not in the mood - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend Alexia is back from a couple of days away for football. She has a rest day, but when you come back from work you are not in the mood... or so you tell Alexia. Genre: Fluff / Smut Warnings: Minors do not interact, 18+

You had tried to go home as quick as possible when your workday was done. Today was a rest day for Alexia and that meant one of the rare occasions you and her could spend some quality time together.

She had texted you throughout the day about the things she´d been up to and about how much she was missing you.

You adored her, she was doing the laundry at home even though she was a six figure earner, while you made a mediocre salary. She was almost never home, and when she was she helped out in the house hold.

She was the perfect girlfriend. It is cool that she is a football player ofcourse, but that wasn´t why you had fallen in love with her. No.

You had fallen for the sweet, soft and caring woman that was called Alexia Putellas. Who also happened to be a pro football player, earning her the nickname ´la Reina´. Rightfully so, she really was a queen.

You stepped through the front door of the apartment the two of you shared. Having moved in together after a small 7 months of dating. Now it was already close to you two´s 2 year celebration, and things where still going as good as ever. Maybe even better if that was possible.

´´Good afternoon babyyy.´´ You called out in the hallway while dropping your bag, taking of your shoes and putting your coat on the rack.

You walked in to the apartment to be met with alexia watching tv and folding laundry simultaneously. She looked cute, her attention completely turned to the show she was watching. That was such an Alexia thing, always having her whole heart in the things she did.

´´Ale.´´ You chuckled, softly. You didn´t want to startle her.

She blinked and looked up, she turned to you and smiled. ´´heyyy.´´ She put the towel she was holding next to her and stood up from the couch, ´´I missed you.´´

´´I missed you too, how was your day?’’ you asked walking towards her.

She took you in her arms, holding you close, ‘’mmmm,’’ she swayed you back and forth, ‘’my day was good, I did absolutely nothing though, so I can’t wait to train again tomorrow.’’

You chuckled against her chest, ‘’you did laundry, you did the dishes, you vacuumed and made the bed,’’ you looked up and kissed her jaw, ‘’I think you did a lot for a so called ‘rest day’, ‘’

‘’Hm,’’ Alexia let out a disagreeing hum, but kissed the top of your head, ‘’and how was your day.’’

‘’Oh good,’’ you smiled, peeling yourself away from her slightly so you could see her face, ‘’I had a really good talk with that one client I told you about and I got a lot of paperwork done, so I had a very productive day.’’

Alexia smiled, ‘’I am proud of you.’’

You smiled back, ‘’I am proud of you too, my superstar.’’

Alexia rolled her eyes at the way you said ‘my superstar’, you always had to reply to compliments either jokingly, sarcastically or denyingly, she whished you would just accept her compliments for once.

You ignored her with a chuckle and kissed her, ‘’so what do you want to do this afternoon?’’ you murmured after slightly pulling away again.

Alexia blinked, thinking a second before pulling you in for another kiss. ‘’mm maybe we can cuddle on the couch?’’ she said after breaking the kiss.

You smiled, ‘’mm that would be nice, let me put on some comfy clothes and I’ll join you.’’

Alexia nodded, ‘’perfect, I’ll finish the laundry and put it away.’’

-

Alexia didn’t finish the folding, instead she took the laundry, half folded, half not. In the basket back to the room, following just a few moments behind you.

You had just taken your blouse and skirt off, sitting on the bed to take of your tights without creating any ladders.

You shook your head as you saw alexia standing in the doorway with the basket of laundry.

‘’You where right, I have done enough things for my rest day.’’ She explained, setting the basket down.

She stayed there, leaning against the wall, watching now as you had stood up and opened the closet.

You turned around with sweatpants, throwing them on the bed. You caught her gaze flicking up from your ass, quickly to land on your face. You smirked, ‘’sure no other reason you followed me?’’

Alexia walked over to you and wrapped herself around you, ‘’mm yes actually, wanted to tell you to put one of my sweaters on,’’ she kissed your neck as she reached out and grabbed a dark blue Barça hoodie from her stack of clothes, ‘’this one is very comfy.’’

You chuckled as you turned around and took the hoodie, which you had already worn maybe a hundred times, from her. ‘’Oh thank you, how considerate.’’

She nodded, ‘’only the best for my girl.’’

You shook your head amused as you threw the sweater on the bed as well, then you grabbed an undershirt and turned to the bed.

First you put on the sweatpants, then you removed your bra. You knew Alexia was watching but you didn’t give her any attention, it amused you. Then you put on the shirt and the hoodie and turned to her, ‘’very comfy.’’

She looked at you triumphantly. ‘’Do I deserve a kiss for helping you?’’

Chuckling, you took her hand to pull her closer, ‘’you always deserve a kiss.’’

She smiled like a kid who had just been told they could have as many pieces of candy from the jar as they wanted.

Alexia held your face and pecked your lips about a dozen times before giving you a proper kiss.

After a couple minutes you pulled back, you chuckled. ‘’Alright, lets get to the couch then.’’

A bit dazy, alexia looked at you, ‘’mhm, yes ofcourse, the couch.’’

-

You laid down on the couch as Alexia made two cups of tea.

She came back setting the cups down and next to your tea she laid down a cookie with one bite out of it.

‘’Mm nice,’’ you chuckled, ‘’a chewed cookie.’’ Often when Alexia brought you a snack it had a little bite missing, she always said the same;

‘’made sure it’s safe for you, and I can confirm there’s no poison in it.’’ alexia said with a serious face, knowing damn well she had done it with the other 4 cookies from this same pack as well the last days.

‘’I’m so lucky,’’ you rolled your eyes, ‘’you protect me from all the evils of the world.’’

‘’mhm,’’ alexia nodded proudly, ‘’now, can I lie behind you?’’ she asked, eying the bit of space you had left, balancing on the edge of the couch.

you nodded, leaning even more towards the edge.

alexia stepped behind you and tugged a blanket along with her. covering the both of you as she wiggled until she was happy with both of your positions.

‘’Shall we watch this,’’ you said, pointing with the remote at the show selected, ‘’looks fun.’’

‘’Mhm,’’ Alexia didn’t even look at the screen, her face nuzzled in your neck and her hand searching for the hem of your sweater.

You put the show on and put the remote on the coffee table as you felt alexia’s hand creeping below your shirt. You shivered as her cool hands traced the skin of your stomach.

‘’Ale, its colddd.’’ You said, trying to take her hand away from under your shirt.

‘’But I want to hold you.’’ She pouted, her lips finding your neck, kissing you softly as her hand crept up further and further, ‘’can I hold them? I missed them.’’ She pouted innocently.

You scooched back further against her, feeling her warmth against your back. You sighed and agreed halfheartedly, ‘’fine.’’

She smiled against your neck, ‘’mmm I love you,’’ she murmured as she gave both of your boobs some attention before cupping one and settling like that.

With one arm below your head, one hand under your shirt and her back flush against your front the two of you laid there for a while.

Every now and then you took a sip of the tea until it was finished and your cookie was gone too.

You where pretty invested in the show you had put on, it was some show about lawyers. Overly dramatized ofcourse, but entertaining nonetheless.

Alexia seemed to be contend too, she place kisses in your neck every once in a while and her hand was rested comfortably on your chest. Now that her hand was warmed to the same temperature as you where, it was fine.

-

All of a sudden you noticed Alexia removing her hand from your boob, trailing lower. It send a shiver along your spine.

She moved a bit, straightening herself against you as her hand was on your stomach.

‘’Ale’’ You said, your voice sounding in a tone somewhere between warning and absence, your gaze still on the tv.

“What?” she asked softly, her hand finding your hip, pulling you impossibly closer.

You took her hand, guiding her arm around you and clasping it gently with both of yours. Preventing her further distractions.

In response, she began placing soft kisses along your neck, each one lingering just enough to make your skin tingle. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“We were just going to cuddle,” you sighed, trying to hold onto the original plan.

“We are cuddling,” she whispered in your ear, her breath warm and teasing. “I just missed you.”

A shiver ran down your spine as goosebumps spread along your neck. “I missed you too, Ale,” you murmured, your attention now drifting completely away from the show. Just yesterday, Alexia had returned from a three-day trip to Germany for a Champions League match.

Turning around to face her, you smiled, your forehead nearly touching hers. “But now you’re home, hm?”

She didn’t seem to hear, her gaze fixed on your lips as if transfixed.

“Ale?” you chuckled softly.

She blinked, finally meeting your eyes. “Yeah, you’re my home.”

You rolled your eyes, cupping her face and brushing your thumbs gently over her cheeks. “Where’s your head at?”

“What?” She tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together. “My head is right here—with you. I’m thinking about you.”

You chuckled, unconvinced. “Mhm.”

“It’s true,” she murmured, tilting her face closer to yours, “and I want a kiss, please.”

You leaned in and kissed her, soft at first, but Alexia’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into her. The kiss quickly grew hungrier, her lips moving against yours like she’d been waiting forever.

When you broke away to breathe, she didn’t let you go far, her mouth already trailing to your jaw and then your neck, her kisses soft but clearly needy. Her hands slid to your hips, tugging you tight against her.

“What are you after?” you teased, trying to hide your smile.

“Missed you,” she murmured against your skin, her tone so earnest it made you chuckle.

“Oh, I couldn’t tell,” you replied, laughing a little, even as her lips found the spot on your neck that always made you melt.

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a playful glint dancing in hers. “Let me show you,” she whispered, her hands sliding lower as she leaned closer, “déjame mostrarte how much I missed you.”

The way she said it—serious and full of adoration—made you laugh again. You kissed her because she was adorable.

Alexia kissed you back, but not with the same playful energy. Her lips moved hungrily, her grip tightening on your hips.

You pressed a hand to her chest, holding her back just enough to catch your breath and calm her down.

“What?” Alexia said breathlessly, eyes flicking between yours and your lips. “Something wrong?”

You bit your lip. “I’m not really in the mood, Ale.”

Alexia’s face fell, her pout so exaggerated you almost laughed. “¿No? No quieres? You don’t want to have sex?”

“I’m just a little tired,” you admitted, watching her expression turn soft but still a little dramatic. “I know it’s been a while. Maybe tomorrow.”

Her lips pressed into a thin smile, nodding. “Okay, mañana…” She pulled you closer, then grinned mischievously. “Orrr…” Before you could react, she rolled you onto your back and leaned over you.

“You can just relax,” she whispered in your ear, her voice low and teasing, “and I’ll make you feel good.” Her lips brushed against your skin as she added, “Then we’ll order food and eat it in bed.” She raised her eyebrows at you playfully, wagging them suggestively.

“Are you seriously trying to turn me on by mentioning ordering sushi?” you asked, unable to hide your smile.

“Is it working?”

“Almost.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, leaning down to press her lips to your neck. “What if I give you a massage, then we order sushi, and while we wait…” Her kisses grew slower, her breath warm against your skin. “I’ll give you head.”

Your mouth fell open. “Alexia!”

“What?” she asked innocently, her lips brushing your collarbone. “You love getting head, no?”

“Who even taught you to say that?” you said, clicking your tongue disapprovingly.

“TikTok,” Alexia replied proudly, her grin too pleased with herself.

You let out a short laugh. “I still can’t believe Vicky convinced you to get on TikTok.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you knew what I meant, so I guess we’re both bad.”

You shook your head, stroking her hair fondly. “You’re not bad—you’re cute. I was just caught off guard.”

Alexia beamed, then kissed your neck again, nuzzling her nose against your skin. “So… back to my plan,” she murmured, her lips brushing the pulse point on your neck as her tongue flicked teasingly. “I’ll give you a massage, we’ll order sushi, and then…” her voice slowed as she pressed another kiss to your neck. “I’ll give you head. Make you feel really, really good.”

-

After a couple more words you agreed. Alexia grabbed her phone and ordered sushi, barely glancing at the menu before hitting confirm. “forty minutes,” she said with a triumphant grin.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you stood up and made your way to the bed. “Plenty of time for that massage you promised, then.”

She followed you, practically bouncing and waited as you stretched out on your stomach, the soft sheets cool against your skin.

‘’At least take the sweatshirt off amor.’’

You shifted, taking the sweater off and laid back down on your stomach, your arms besides your body. Your head sideways, sending her a smile. ‘’mkay, I’m ready,’’ you chuckled.  

Her hands were on you almost immediately, warm and firm, starting at your shoulders.

“Just relax,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Her thumbs worked into the knots in your shoulders, and you sighed as the tension began to melt away.

Suddenly she sat up, ’’I think you need to take off the clothes, then I can massage you better.’’

You staid quiet, finally relaxed, waiting for her to continue if you just ignored her. When she didn’t you rolled over and looked at her.

Alexia shot you a small smile, ‘’massage oil.’’ She offered innocently.

You rolled your eyes but smiled at her, ‘’okay but let’s put a big towel on the bed then, you just changed the sheets.’’

-

It wasn’t long before Alexia’s hands wandered your skin again, her palms smoothing over your back with a deliberate slowness, her lips following. She pressed kisses to your shoulder blades, then down your spine, her breath warm against your skin.

“This is a massage, not a make-out session,” you teased, voice muffled by the sheets.

“Shhh, it’s both,” she said with a grin, her hands sliding to your sides, fingers brushing your ribs in a way that made you squirm. “Feels good, no?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, but the way her lips lingered just a little too long at the small of your back made you suspicious.

Her hands drifted lower, kneading at your hips, then your thighs, her touch deliberate but clearly suggestive. “You’ve got such a perfect body, querida” she murmured, her voice low as she placed another kiss just above the curve of the waistband of your underwear.

“Alexia…” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but it lacked any real conviction.

“What?” she asked innocently, her hands trailing back up to your shoulders, only to work their way back down, slower this time.

By the time her lips started leaving kisses along the backs of your thighs, you were biting your lip to keep from whining—or moaning. “You know exactly what you are doing,” you muttered, turning your head to glance back at her.

“Making my love feel good,” she replied with a grin, her hands sliding up your sides again, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of your lower back. “I’m just doing what feels right.”

You rolled onto your back, her hands quickly finding your waist as she hovered over you, a smug little smirk on her face. “You’re so annoying,” you said, but your cheeks were flushed, and she noticed.

“Annoying? I think you secretly like it,” she teased, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. “You like it when I take care of you, cariño, don’t you?”

Her lips trailed lower and the heat building between you became impossible to ignore. You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers finding her hair as her kisses moved toward your stomach. “You’re not going to stop until I say it, are you?”

She looked up at you, grinning but completely serious. “Say what?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning as you pulled her closer. “Okay I like it, fuck, I want you.”

Her smirk grew impossibly wider, her eyes lighting up. “Now that,” she said, kissing just below your navel, “is the only thing you needed to tell me.”

Her hands slid lower, and you let your head fall back, your laughter turning into a soft sigh as she kissed her way down, wasting no time making good on her promise.

You lifted your legs when she tugged of your only remaining piece of clothing, your panties.

Alexia’s lips traveled up the inside of your thighs, slow and teasing, leaving a trail of heat in their path.

 Her hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as her kisses grew closer, breath fanning against your skin. She let out a low groan, her nose brushing along your sensitive skin as she murmured, “Dios… I missed this.”

You shivered at her words, your hands tangling in her hair as she kissed closer and closer. “Missed the way you taste,” she said softly, her voice laced with hunger and then her tongue flicked against you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Her movements were slow at first as she savored every moment. She groaned again, this time louder, as if the sound itself was pulled from her chest. “You’re my favorite taste,” she muttered between strokes, the reverence in her tone making your head spin.

Your back arched as she found the perfect rhythm, her tongue and lips working to push you closer to the edge. You could feel the pressure building, your breathing ragged as your thighs trembled around her head.

It went on like that for a couple minutes, but just as you felt yourself slipping over the edge, the doorbell rang.

You tensed, eyes flying open as Alexia paused, looking up at you apologetically. “Sorry, baby. One second.” She started to pull away, but your hand tightened in her hair.

“Alexia, don’t you dare stop,” you said breathlessly, glaring down at her.

She gave you an adorably sheepish look, her lips glistening, but she gently pried your hand from her hair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, kissing your inner thigh before grabbing a piece of the towel and wiping her mouth quickly.

You let out a frustrated groan, flopping back onto the bed as she hurried to the door, throwing it open with a too-sweet smile at the delivery driver. “Gracias,” she said briskly, practically snatching the sushi bag before shutting the door and rushing back to the bedroom.

She dropped the bag onto the bedside table and crawled back onto the bed, her grin smug as she settled between your thighs again. “So,” she said, kissing the inside of your knee before moving upward, “now you do want me, huh?”

“Alexia,” you growled, your tone both annoyed and desperate.

She laughed softly, her hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer. “Relax, cariño. I’ll take care of you.”

And with that, her mouth was on you again, picking up right where she left off, her teasing forgotten as she focused on one thing; finishing what she’d started.

She made you come with eagerness that left you breathless, her name tumbling from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Afterward, she pressed soft kisses to your thighs and stomach, murmuring sweet words in Spanish before she cleaned you up with gentle care.

-

Minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed, the glow of satisfaction and warmth surrounding you as you plucked a piece of sushi from the box and held it to Alexia's lips with a grin. “Your turn to be spoiled,” you chuckled.

She laughed softly, taking the bite before grabbing a piece to feed you in return. “I love spoiling you, my love.''

[beejunos]

UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader

Summary: As Alastor's shadow starts to act strangely, hidden feelings are brought to light.

This wonderful story was written from @lustylita's wonderful idea! The story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words. Their original post can be found here.

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, hidden feelings, angst

The last couple of weeks have been very strange to you. 

Well, stranger than the hotel usually was. 

Over the past few weeks, you have helped your best friend, Charlie, with her little passion project. The Hazbin Hotel - your only chance at redemption! 

While you couldn't say that you inherently believed in her dream, you would have been a poor friend if you hadn't tried to help her—emphasis on tried. Growing up within Hell's elite, where someone always handed you everything on gold platters, didn't foster any usable skills that could help run a severely understaffed hotel. The very thought of having to clean your own room had almost immobilised you.

Did you really need to vacuum the walls and the ceilings every week? How did the cleaning staff back at your parents' manor even do it? The manor was huge! 

Thankfully, you had not been forced to clean for long because shortly after Charlie had opened the hotel for business, an unwanted guest had come knocking at the door. Alastor and his somewhat reluctant companies, except for Niffty, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, quickly made themselves at home in the hotel. 

The same night they arrived, you and Vaggie had sat Charlie down in their room and begged the princess not to let the radio demon stay. After all, the tales of his deeds had even reached your family's manor in the Envy ring of Hell. But Charlie had been persistent, saying that maybe by staying in the hotel, she could change his ways. You loved your friend; you really did, but sometimes you wanted to shake some sense into her violently. 

There was nothing you could do about the radio demon and how he just took over many of the work duties you had at the hotel. Waltzing in as if he owned the hotel, he had taken one look at your work and deemed it unsatisfactory. 

"No, no, let me do it, doll!" he would say condescendingly, making rage lick up your spine, "We would want this to be done well for Charlie, now, wouldn't we?" 

You had lost count of all the times you fantasised about grabbing a chair and introducing it to his face. 

He made you feel incompetent, and worst of all, he was right. Most of the work you had done that he had redone was of better quality, more detailed, and better planned. If you had been a weaker demon, you would have given up, apologised to Charlie and gone home to your parents, but so, if the heavens would be your witnesses, you were going to crush that smug little bastard of a sinner! 

And so began your imaginary battle with Alastor about who could be the best executive producer. If you had asked Alastor, he would not have had any clues about what you were doing, only that it finally seemed like you were taking your job seriously. That said, he still did not like you. You were a spoiled little demon brat who had never worked a hard day in your life, and worst of all, you were sloppy with your work. 

But time kept ticking. The days passed, the hotel was filled with new residents, and somehow, you and Alastor were able to work together. Nevertheless, you only managed to do it by never being near each other, which worked wonderfully for you because the man could actually be quite okay when he was silent and on the other side of the room.  

You could have continued to live like this for as long as Alastor decided to live in the hotel. There was just this teeny tiny thing that perplexed you. 

Alastor's shadow liked to be around you. 

It had begun quite innocently with the shadow coming over to you one night when you were sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with yesterday's newspaper in your lap since you had started to do the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper. You had been staring at the same clue for what felt like an hour, and you just couldn't figure it out. Out of nowhere, a shadowy finger had tapped on the clue to get your attention, and when you looked up, two empty holes for eyes had looked back at you with the biggest twisted grin full of teeth you had ever seen. 

"Fuck! Don't do that!" you whispered forcefully, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that finally had fallen over the hotel lobby. "What do you want?" 

Prepared to be bothered any second now by the radio demon, you got even more confused when the shadow started doing pantomimes. Why in the seven Hells was it swimming across the wall?

You looked on as the shadow began to swim back to you, tapped on the clue and started to swim again.

"Swimming? But it has nothing to do with activities! It is something about effort," you said as the shadow returned to you. Since it could not speak, the shadow just started to nod its head and tapped on the clue again. 

"Is it a word derived from the word swimming?" you asked hesitantly as the shadow continued to nod. 

You turned back to the clue before you—a word for no effort needed and swimming.

"Swimmingly?" you asked the shadow, who gave you an even bigger sinister smile and nodded again before it disappeared up the stairs. Again, you were left in the lobby with only the crackling fire as a company, looking over at the stairs after the strange entity that was Alastor's shadow.

The next couple of weeks just grew more and more strange with every day. Out of nowhere, Alastor's shadow started to just interact with you. It began as innocent waves to you behind Alastors back, and at first, you wouldn't wave back, but when you saw how sad the shadow got if you didn't return its greeting, you started to wave back to it. On a few occasions, Alastor had caught you in the act, which quickly prompted you to swat the air around you as if you were trying to get rid of a fly.

When the waves weren't enough for the shadow, it started to appear around you, helping you in various ways. Once, it even helped you find some important paper you needed for your job that you were convinced Alastor had hidden from you. 

It turned out that Alastor's shadow was much more pleasant company than its physical part, and you often welcomed the shadow's help with your crosswords during the evenings.

However, you were again thrown for a loop when the shadowed behaviour started to change. It began to interact with you even more, seeking you out during the day and staying for long periods at a time, just hanging around you or observing what you were doing. 

One day, it had even brought you a blueberry muffin from the bakery you liked across town. You had no idea how it had even done that. For all you knew, shadows were not physical things and could not interact with the physical world. However, you were promptly proven wrong when Alastor's shadow took your own shadow's hand and pulled you down the hallway to show you the roses that had started to bloom outside of the hotel. 

It was a paradox, a mystery that intrigued you. Alastor's shadow, a creature of darkness, was surprisingly sweet, charming, and, at times, downright romantic. How could such a lovely thing be attached to such a vile being?

It had been like any other day. Alastor's shadow had found you in your office early in the morning, going through all the paperwork that needed to get done that day. In its shadowy hand, it held one blueberry muffin and your favourite coffee mug with a sleepy bear on it, along with the text Bearly Awaken written underneath. 

The coffee had been divine because, somewhere, the shadow had learned to make a cup of coffee exactly how you wanted it.

You continued with your day in the presence of Alastor's shadow, walking together down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the front door as you chatted with the shadow. You had gotten quite good at interpreting its pantomimes and overexaggerated emotions and often found yourself laughing at any antics the shadow pulled. 

It followed you all day as you walked around the city, picking up the materials Charlie needed for her next exercise with the hotel residents. The shadow even helped you pick out the colours for the ribbons and paints. 

At one point, the shadow's long finger had brushed against yours. It had been a cold sensation, almost like being touched by mist, but that had not mattered to you as you blushed before looking away. Missing how the shadow practically folded in on itself when it saw your reaction. 

Was it possible to date a shadow and not the being it was attached to? 

The sun was setting when you and Alastor's shadow got back to the hotel. The lobby was almost empty except for Husk, who was polishing martini glasses by the bar. As soon as he saw the two of you enter the hotel, Husk leapt over the bar and rushed over to you. 

"I don't know where the fuck the two of you have been, but you need to leave now before he finds out that your back," Husk whispered to you as he gripped your arm to turn you around towards the door. 

"And you!" he said towards the shadow, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"  

The shadow made a high-pitched whine as it stepped closer to you. You were about to ask Husk what he had meant when a loud voice boomed inside the hotel.

"Where are you?"

Husk's hand tightened around your arm as he started to pull you towards the door. You followed after him, paralysed by action, as a stone of fear got stuck in your throat. The shadow looked at you, then back at the stairs and then back at you again with anxious eyes. 

Loud steps could be heard from the hallway above the staircase, and Alastor's shadow began to be dragged towards the stairs as if by an invincible force. It desperately dug its claws into the ground, and the shadow let out a wailing scream as it looked at you with big, pleading eyes. 

Alastor was calling his shadow back to him. 

The shadow continued to fight the force of its master's call, leaving deep claw marks on the floor, and, as if a gunshot had been fired at the room, the force wholly let go of the shadow. The shadow rushed back to you, where it clung to your body like a second skin. 

"Get back here, you disgraceful thing!" Alastor could be heard shouting as a massive hand gripped the hallway doorframe and pulled itself forward. It was the hand of Alastor's most demonic form. 

Beside you, Husk had begun to shake as his claws dug into your skin.

"You need to run. Now!" he tried to push you towards the door, but it was too late. From around the corner, Alastor stepped from the dark into the light, but as he stepped forward, he shrank in size. Still, he looked terrifying. 

His eyes were a deep red with volume controllers as irises, hiding any emotions he may have had. His antlers had grown in size, sharp and imposing, making the sinner look almost regal as he sauntered down the stairs. 

"Thank you, Husker." he said, his voice dripping in venom, "I can take over now." 

Husk was about to protest loudly when he disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and you were left alone with the enraged sinner. 

"What do you think you are doing?" Alastor snarled as you started to shake where you were standing. A small whine could be heard beside your neck as the shadow clung closer to you.  

"I don't know..."

"I'm not talking to you!" Alastor's look silenced you but confused you for a second before you saw his eyes drop down to your neck, where the shadow hid. 

"Come back here and stop resisting," Alastor snarled again and stepped towards you. The shadow gave away a low whine as it clung closer to your body, and you realised it didn't want to return. In a fit of temporary insanity, you placed a protective hand over the arms of the shadow around you and stepped away from the sinner.

"No!"  

"What do you mean no? It's my shadow," asked Alastor as he looked back at you in confused rage.

"He doesn't want to be with you anymore," you snapped and turned your nose up. You stepped to the side to walk around the sinner, effectively walking away with his shadow, but as you walked past Alastor, his hand shot out, and he tried to grab your arm. But you were faster; with your other hand, you slept Alastors hand away from you and the shadow.

"Will you stop it! Don't you understand that we want nothing to do with you, so just leave us alone!" 

With determined steps, you started walking over to the staircase to get as far away from the deer demon as possible. However, you didn't get far until you felt the shadow clung even more to you as it let out a pitiful sob. Its head had fallen over your shoulder as it looked up at you with longing eyes—a gaze it shouldn't be giving you since you had just saved it from its cruel master.

"What's the matter?" you asked it as you tried to caress its cheek, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something that you never thought you would see. 

Without a smile and ears hanging low against his head, Alastor looked at you with the same miserable longing that the shadow looked at you with. And that's when you remember something your mother used to say to you when you were a child, a long time ago. 

Our deepest desires, our most precious wishes and longings, hide in our shadows. Everything we want follows us within our shadows as the weights of our souls.  

You wanted to kick yourself for being so foolish, for not understanding until now. Maybe a small part of you had always known, but it had been easy to ignore in your imaginary rivalry with the sinner. But a shadow never lies. Even the ones who can think and act on their own. They will always mirror their owner's heart's wishes and act upon them when the host won't take charge of getting what they desire. 

"You're in love with me," you whispered. It was not a question but a statement—a statement that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity but not long enough. 

“How? What? When?” you asked, desperate for answers.

Alastor walked hesitantly towards you, looked you deep into your eyes and did something you never thought he would do. He kissed your cheek. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm lips softly touched your cheek, and when he pulled away, you could still feel their presence against your skin. As if you were branded by their sweet touch. 

"Come now," was the last thing he said to his shadow as he walked around you and back up the stairs. Alastor's shadow made a melancholic chirping noise before it let go of you and followed its master.

You were left alone in the big hotel lobby. Wishing that it was your lips Alastor had kissed and not your cheek.

PART 2.

I really hope it lived up to the expectations, but I loved writing it! It got a lot more angsty than I first intended...

[melliemell]

HEEy !! It’s the nonnie with the glasses back at it once again >:)

I’ve been thinking, annd how do you think the bsd cast (as always i would love if u added both the idiots aka dazai and ranpo) would go abt asking their S/O to move in with them? Ofc add any chara u like!!

ur awesome love u Pookie🫶☺️, — NONNIE WHO FOUND THEIR GLASSES !!!! (YIPPIE FOR THAT!)

hiii babess, hope you're doing well!!

you never fail to deliver with the cool idea, do you 👀👀

BSD ft. How they'd go about moving in with their S/O

(Dazai, Fyodor, Ranpo)

Dazai

Dazai’s not an easy man to live with and he’s perfectly aware of that. 

Would play it off as a casual remark on a random Wednesday, a teasing smile plastered in place yet his gaze won’t leave yours as he observed your reaction while acting carefree.

“I’ll get to wake up to your angelic face every morning. What man wouldn’t want that?” he’d say, draping an arm around your shoulders as you’d roll your eyes at his antics. You’d be all too used to him by now. 

But the thought would swirl in Dazai’smind for days. Feeling your secure embrace was too sweet a treat, and your chest glued to his back had a calming effect he was steadily becoming addicted to. If Dazai had the opportunity to have your warm breath tickling his nape, mind not even fully awake to complain about it as he floated in that blissful oblivion of early mornings–he was getting it.

He’d be spacing out days on end, coming up with as many scenarios of domestic life that he’d end up completely engrossed by the idea. It would be too hilarious to miss out on the play-dress of adult life. Even cleaning chores would seem exiting to him, knowing fully that vacuuming the house could just as easily turn into rawdogging it on the kitchen floor–clean or not. 

Dazai’d have you all to himself. 

Don’t expect you’d be moving in with him. He’s occupying your place the moment he gets the green flag. He’s so used to not doing anything all day that finally having a constant source of entertainment might do him some good. Not you though. Probably. But at least you’d get your boyfriend trailing after you, puppy eyes abused to the brim as he pleads for attention at every possible opportunity. 

Good luck. 

Fyodor

That’s the thing… Fyodor’s so out of the loop of normal life-living that he’d probably not have a home. Places he stays at? Yes, sure. As lavish as he wants or acceptably modest and enough to meet his needs? Very likely. But a home–a specific location he comes back to time and time again, seeking comfort in its familiarity? Unlikely. 

It would start out as him simply needing you to do little tasks for him. Fyodor’d keep an eye out on you, making sure you arrive to the specific city before him as you checked around the territory. Never staying in the same place as him but still keeping you close by. Just in case.

He’d need to establish a secure enough dependance from your side before he lets himself explore any romantic paths with you. There’s a reassuring quality to it, and Fyodor’s not the type to rush into any idea unless he’s completely prepared for the desired outcome. But once you’re together…

Get prepared for an ungodly amount of surprise visits from this man. There won’t be so much as you moving in together–the topic most likely not even discussed yet–but you gradually getting accustomed to the sight of him already at your place, waiting patiently as he sipped his cup of tea by the kitchen table. 

He’d be really good at nestling perfectly into your routine, knowing exactly where you were at all times. Not living together exactly but… existing together, maybe? It won’t be so much about the physical part, simply being in the same space together bringing a smile to his face. He’d stop arranging for his own place eventually, opting to stay with you every time you had to move to a different location.

It was unusual, but Fyodor wasn’t a usual man after all.

Ranpo

Suspiciously too eager for the moving-in together. Until you realise his plan all along–he won’t need to take cabs every time he goes home; you’ll take him home. Now isn’t that just perfect? You know where you live, and you live together. 

Ranpo never really understood the excitement over domestic life. It was definitely a win for all the attention he was going to get constantly, but it’s not like anything too major has happened. You just have to share laundry now, no biggie. 

Until the day he gets back from work, tired to the bones from dealing with people too stupid to let him do his job quickly, and alone. It’s in those late hours that he stumbles though the darkness to your home and…

There you are. Snuggled up in bed and waiting for him with a tired smile on your face. Ranpo’s chest will feel light, the weight lifting instantly as he lays beside you, cheek smashed into your neck as your scent engulfed him. He’s out cold within minutes; just having this secure presence around him would set him at ease instantly.

Ranpo really thought nothing much would change between you after moving together. And he was right, the good old dynamic of you both was still there, but… there was something else. Something new lurking in the early mornings sometimes, or the hum of your voice as you sang under your breath as you washed the dishes. 

Little things. 

Things he was exposed to constantly now that managed to make him stop in his tracks and just–exist in that moment. With you.

Ranpo’s never felt more content after stealing you away like this.

[ribbonskiss]

THE LEANOVER → OP81

Part 2 of 2. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: You come home on uni break to find your brother’s best friend, Oscar, is visiting. You both fall back into old habits, but some things are not the same.

Tags: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (18+), masturbation, Jack Doohan is from Melbourne in this one for logistical reasons, not proofread at all hah

A/N: finally!!! The end of The Leanover!!!! Sorry for the extended deadline, this one turned out chunkier than I expected and honestly I don’t know if I’m quite satisfied with it but it is what it is. Anyway, enjoy!

Oscar is a handsome boy. This is a fact you find to be so uncontroversial it may as well be accepted as a universal truth. There has never been a time where girls did not whisper amongst themselves when he would enter a room, where the mothers of his friends would not rave with great emphasis to his about how strong and handsome he’d become, where his presence at a function did not brighten up the place, because not only is he handsome, he is beautiful. Beautiful people are magnetic, you think; their beauty lies in their nature, their fundamental quality of supernatural grace, a gift bestowed by the forces that be towards the lucky few.

You recall his last year of high school. You were sixteen, still growing into your body and learning how to use a felt-tip eyeliner pen. Teenagers are fascistic about social hierarchy; they are greatly cognisant of their standings in the high school pecking order, intensely anal about preserving the rigidity of the structure, and thus you had long accepted your status as the forgotten sibling. Oscar and your brother were athletes, students with clout attached to their names; you were awkward, unaware of your own intensity, intimidating to a fault, but more than happy to lay low. Two individuals of such different standings in the social order should never interact—but for the first (and only) time you were now going to the same house parties and birthday bashes, and here was the greatest display of Oscar’s beauty. You can never forget that image: the figure of him standing on the other side of the room, so broad-shouldered and trim, freckles of sun damage littered over his skin all the way down his neck like constellations, his head turned away from you to reveal his chiselled jaw as he speaks to someone while holding a can of Reschs. And suddenly his eyes would meet yours, catching you in the act, and he’d give you a gentle smile.

You were always so grateful for this. So grateful he would look your way and beam so brightly, a glimpse of his inner calmness, his quiet gentle bliss. You were never under the impression you were the only one to be so blessed by his grace; you were just happy to be around him. Sometimes when he would come over, sprawl himself over your couch or lay on the floor, pissing himself laughing at your brother’s antics into the late hours of the night, you’d ask yourself whether you should feel guilty for being the only witness to this part of his life. This secret of his: that Oscar is so much more beautiful than most people will ever know. Not his fans, not his colleagues, not the majority of the world. This is between you and him.

And now you have him all to yourself. A bit greedy, isn’t it? The past week you’ve spent together has been nothing short of lovely. You find out that he’s strangely disciplined. Oscar’s a dutiful housemate, doing the chores you even forget about without the need to be prompted, unlike most guys his age. He likes to hum to himself when he’s got the vacuum going and he thinks you can’t hear him butcher the tune of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. He’s a good cook who prefers careful measurement over eyeballing. He doesn’t read books like you do, but he’s happy to lie on the couch all day and watch a show with you on the telly. And he’s surprisingly touchy—he seems most pleased when you’re both on the couch, your legs crossed and stretched out, resting on top of his, his hand on your foot, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You don’t speak during these moments. Nothing needs to be said; things just sort themselves out.

At some point in the afternoon you get tired, yawning to yourself, and without even needing to look at you Oscar reaches over, tugs at your arm to tell you wordlessly to turn around. You oblige; your head against his chest, his fingers trail up your forearm to your shoulders and, eventually, the back of your neck, smoothing over the soft, fine hairs that reside there. You’re too tired to mind the goosebumps the feeling of his fingertips on your skin gives you, or the increasing thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat underneath you. You shift in his arms, folding your legs up in a way that makes the hem of your shorts ride up, exposing the curve of your thighs all the way up towards the swell of your—well… It would be so uncouth for him to look there.

It never occurs to either of you that the hardest part of the process is done. The feeling returns: the feeling that arises in you when he looked at you from across the room at those parties all those years ago. The feeling of knowing that person so incredibly well. Of sharing a secret together, and letting that secret grow bigger and bigger until it takes on a life of its own. Of sharing that life together. These things do just sort themselves out, but you would never know until you speak of it.

You are growing increasingly needy. There’s no other way to put it. You’re fucking dying. The heat of the dry, punishing Australian summer is starting to get to you, even with how skimpy your attire has gotten, and having him around twenty-four seven is starting to feel more like divine punishment than intervention. You were wrong all along: Oscar is not an angel, but a demon sent to terrorise you all your life until you give in and the Devil can steal your soul for all of eternity.

He works out every other day. That’s at least three days where he’ll disappear into another room in the afternoon for hours, slips right out just to slip into the bathroom, and then waltz back into the living room as if nothing has happened. But something has happened.

Oscar has a very basic wardrobe at home. He likes his soft, mild colours—dark greys and soft whites, beige tones, navy and olives… It’s very on brand for him, yes. And here he is again, today, emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out the door as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. He’s wearing a crisp heather grey t-shirt, fresh from the pile of laundry you’d folded yesterday. The sleeves can barely withstand the size of his biceps; he’s just gotten new dumbbells in. And god, the smell of his skin, the musk of him mixed with the soft clean scent of soap still radiating off of him. It’s like crisp hot white bedsheets, fresh out the dryer, already crumpling under the weight of two lovers, bodies sticky from tangling into each other; like soft detergent left out in the garden, where the grass is freshly cut, and the warm sun hits your skin.

This is as close to a primal urge as it will ever get for you. The first few times you could just tell yourself to look away, but now the smell of him is unavoidable, overwhelms your senses, and lights your entire body on fire. You stick your nose into your book the entire time and pray he goes away. Oscar retreats into the kitchen and wonders if your book is really so good that you’d be that engrossed by it. He’ll have to start reading again soon.

“The worst thing a woman can do,” you say, hand in the air with great feeling, “is be cut down in her prime by a man.”

Three beers in and you’re starting up your great tirade already. Oscar watches with an amused smile as he sits on the grass, green Peroni bottle in hand. “I know it sounds so pathetic and untrue, but it is true,” you continue, pacing back and forth with a giggle. “It’s true! I’m so much better off now. No offence, Osc, you’re one of the good ones.”

“I’m very flattered.”

“You should be,” you nod.

He reaches over and grabs a fresh beer from the esky, flicks the cap off with the belt he’s taken off, and hands it to you. You thank him; “just trying to stay in your good graces, missy,” he chuckles.

You sigh, taking a swig of it as you look up to the sky. “Frankly, I’m glad that part of my life is over already,” you say. “I’m not happy to admit it, but for a long time, I had just thought of myself as undesirable. Invisible.”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows with great concern, an ocean tide of emotion threatening to wash over him. “Impossible.”

“Possible,” you nod, with a bitter smile that’s less regretful than accepting of your past. “You know. Surely you remember.”

Of course he does. He remembers every little thing, because they’re not little to him. He remembers it all, how he’d scare off sleazy, drunken boys from approaching you at parties. Even after he graduated, the threat remained: you mess with her, you mess with Oscar Piastri, the F1 big shot. Boys never looked your way because of that; he used to hold you by the end of the party, sitting on the porch of whatever house you’re at, you latching onto him in your drunken half-slumber, both of you silently wallowing in your desires. Drowning, suffocating in each other’s warmth. Then he’d stay over at your house and wait until your brother fell asleep to press his ear against the wall, listening to your muffled sobbing. You were always too eager to suffer alone, to make a martyr of yourself and accept the cards you had been dealt.

But you stand tall now, a soft smile on your face suggesting a great deal of growth. It’s what he’s always found so beautiful in you. Beauty, he thinks, lies in the spirit, an ability to have infinite love and bliss in the face of the frustrations of one’s life. You are a complete soul, whole in ways he may never be, capable of learning to love over and over again and of light-heartedness in the face of turmoil. He knows he cannot truly achieve this because you are his Achilles’ heal. He cannot bear to think of you off on your own without him, doing things with other slimy ratty boys, going places he may never know of. Having a life without him in it. Oscar frowns; had he been too selfish in denying you all your opportunities? You had graduated high school without losing your virginity, without ever being in a relationship, and he wasn’t sure your first kiss would even count as a kiss. He can’t imagine how much that must’ve crushed you—and he was away, far away on his stupid little racing circuits instead of being at home, comforting you, as he should’ve been.

You wave it all off, as if you could hear his thoughts. “Well, I’ve done all of it now anyway, and I’m happy to report that it’s not for me.”

He cocks up an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘it,’ Tiny?”

“The hookup thing,” you shrug.

Oscar’s chest feels like it could explode; cold flashes wash all over him. “Oh?”

You playfully shush him. “Don’t tell my family, okay?” you chuckle. “But, yes. I tried it. It was good, until it wasn’t. Very quickly I realised I’m kinda, like, spiritually forty. I need to stretch in the mornings and tuck in by eleven.”

“And kick-ons aren’t until at least one,” he tuts. “You’re always been a sleepy girl.”

“That is true,” you nod, taking another sip of your Peroni. “Anyway, it was worth it, at the very least just to get it all out of my system. I’m very comfortably single now.”

The sky is darker than it should be. The sun has already tucked itself away, and it’s not even evening time yet. “You know, it’s so cliché,” you continue. “That Sally Rooney quote, it’s just like that. I went to uni and got pretty. And all of a sudden men saw me—I mean, I was pretty much invisible before. Before in school, when you and my brother were still around, guys used to do this stupid, horrible thing where they wouldn’t speak to me, they’d just speak to you instead. Even when the topic was about me. Well, no one knows I grew up with Oscar Piastri when I’m at ANU. I’m just me, and I’ve got a nice haircut and a decent rack of tits. And they see me, they see me now and I realise now that they’re all just sort of stupid. I’m very sorry, Oscar, but boys are stupid.”

“No need to apologise,” he snickers softly. It makes you smile a little wider. “But surely they were not all so bad?”

“No, I really don’t know how to pick ‘em. They really were all that bad,” you chuckle, eyes creasing as your cheeks push up in laughter. “Think the best one might’ve been the guy I lost my virginity to.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He hums, pretends to be normal about it. “Tell me more,” he says.

You nod and oblige. “It was early in the school year. I went on four dates with him,” you start. “He seemed right on paper. Double major, worked for a diplomat, spoke two languages and was well-travelled. Maybe a bit pedestrian in his taste in music and films, but it didn’t bother me so much. We talked okay. He knew what to do, how to be courteous, held doors open and shit—I didn’t know what the whole dating thing was meant to be like, and I was easily impressed. He took me back to his after the fourth date and we listened to his vinyls: corny 70s Greatest Hit compilations and his favourite Kanye albums.”

You take a break, pulling out a thing of lip balm and unscrewing the cap before squeezing it out. “He told me he used to take ballroom lessons for some weird high school thing he did, and he twirled me in his arms, and it made me feel so light and small and girlish that I felt like I was floating.” Your finger spreads the balm over your lips, the feeling cool and tingly on your skin. “He told me I was funny. He kissed me, and his stubble was so sharp and gritty against my skin that it gave me traction acne the day after. He held my hand the whole time. He was an awful kisser. Just kept jamming his tongue in. But it was sweet enough. No one’s first time is good, anyway.”

Oscar tries to swallows down the lump stuck in his throat. His fingers and toes are tingling, chest tight and contracting still. You take another swig. “I’ve had too many of these,” you say.

“You’ve had three, Tiny.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you shrug, yawning as you set the bottle down on the wooden table outside in your garden. “I think I’d better fuck off to bed now. Sleep tight, Osc.”

He doesn’t sleep in your brother’s bed that night. No, he takes out the spare mattress again and drapes the spare velvet blanket over himself, because he could never forgive himself if he jerked off in his best friend’s bed to the thought of his best friend’s sister. No, there would be no good excuse for that, but tonight is one of those nights where a man simply cannot hold himself back anymore. The alcohol is still burning in his stomach; when Oscar shuts his eyes, all he can see is these elaborate images crafted by his mind’s eye of you, placed in all the scenarios you’d described to him, only replacing that dirty fucker was him, being so gentle and delicate and loving, just how you deserve it. It should have been him there instead to do it all right; it is true that losing one’s virginity is often an awkward affair, his own experience was no less lousy, but if anyone were to have a perfect instance of it it should be you. Oscar can see it all now, how he’d go about it. Holding onto your soft curves as he pushes himself in slowly, the little gasps that would escape your honey-sweet mouth, so warm and wet on his lips. He would die happy, he thinks to himself, as his hand roughly palms his length, hair dampening from sweat in the blistering summer night heat. Cicadas sing outside his window; he heaves wildly, chest rising and falling dramatically as his hand gets slicker with each stroke. He had no idea he could even leak that much.

Thank god you’re sound asleep. He grips tightly onto the soft blanket, balling it in his fist as his eyes shut again tightly, the guttural noise he lets out much louder than he intended. Then Oscar collapses; his limbs go slack, heart beating out of his chest still as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, hand now sticky with his spent. The mattress is damp with his sweat. If he wasn’t before, he’s royally fucked now.

Your parents called; they’ll be home on Christmas Eve, but only in the afternoon, and they’re picking your brother up as well. Which means the two of you have some shopping to do; the house should be looking festive in time for their arrival. Oscar pushes the shopping cart, following you deep into the maze that is Kmart. He helps you haul the Christmas tree box in and out of his car. And he watches as you pull its branches down, giving it shape before littering it with baubles and tinsel. And when it comes time to finish the tree, you look him with bright eyes. He smiled at you, takes the Angel Gabriel out of your hands and places it on top of the tree carefully. You put on your silly little Santa hats and poorly bake gingerbread men.

You never end up throwing the rager Oscar jokingly suggested, but you do hold a small get-together after running into some old schoolmates at the shops. So it turns out that a few girls you used to do drama class with are in town, and of course anyone Oscar invites is going to show up—he’s Oscar fucking Piastri—so here you are, with a decent turnout of people currently congregated in the back garden and the living room. You’re thankful enough of them showed up on such short notice, with Christmas Eve only a few days away, and you’re thankful everyone seems to have gotten more civil and mature since you’ve left school.

The doorbell rings more than once, and you peel yourself off of the couch to go answer it, Balter tinnie in hand now that you’re all out of Peronis. Your eyes widen once you fling the door open, revealing a familiar face, standing with a smile on his face and a couple guys behind him.

“Surprise,” Jack chuckles.

“Doohan in the flesh,” you quip with a smile. “You cheeky boy. Since when were you in town?”

“Since yesterday,” he shrugs, and the guys behind him file past you into the house at the sight of some of their mates. “Heard you were throwing a thing with Big Shot Oscar. Hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing—I come bearing gifts.”

You shake your head. “Of course not, no, I’m glad to see you,” you say, though you sigh at the sight of the twelve-pack he’s got in his hands. “Mate, Strong Zero? It’s not that kind of party.”

“Some of us can handle our liquor,” Jack laughs, putting the pack in your arms before smoothing his hair back. “Don’t spoil the fun for the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes, turning your back to him as you walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. “Congratulations, by the way,” I say. “I’m glad to see two of our finest graduates succeeding.”

“I can tell. You’re beaming, clearly,” he jokes, following you in. “It was never in doubt for Oscar, anyway, so I think I deserve a bigger congratulations for making it, no?”

You peel apart the drink packaging, the tins of drink coming loose on the kitchen counter. “Let me get this straight: you want me to be more proud of you for being a worse driver than Oscar?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m just repeating your words, Jack-Jack.”

“Never said I was a worse driver,” he snickers, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. “You snuck that in yourself. But I always knew you were biased, so I won’t take offence to that, Tiny.”

You turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. Dramatically, he throws his hands up in a display of surrender, but your conversation is cut short.

“Well, well, well,” Oscar grins, strolling into the kitchen and approaching Jack with wide arms. “Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver.”

“Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver,” Doohan beams, dapping Oscar up before pulling him into a hug. “How you been, mate, good?”

“Nah, yeah,” Oscar chuckles, glancing back to you with a smile. “It’s been a splendid break for me. You been good? Didn’t realise you were back.”

“Yeah, just landed yesterday,” Jack nods, a hand on the back of his neck. “Heard you two were doing a thing, thought I’d be jet lagged out of my mind but nah. Wouldn’t miss this.”

You notice Jack’s a little taller than Oscar, who’s having to tilt his head up a little. “Appreciate you showing up, mate,” the older one says. “I’m gonna go catch up with some of your mates, but stick around, yeah?”

“Absolutely, man,” the younger one says with a smile. “Good seeing you again.”

Then Oscar leaves, fingers gliding over the skin of your cheek in passing, a gentle action of tenderness, as if to say goodbye wordlessly. Doohan wiggles his eyebrows. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” you exclaim, eyes avoiding his gaze as you snatch a Strong Zero for yourself.

“That,” he presses on, finger extended now to point to where Oscar had put his hand on your cheek. “The little hand-cheek-look thing. The fuck? Do you have something to tell me, pal?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please mate, just be normal—”

“Don’t gaslight me,” Jack says, as stern as he can be.

“He’s been living in my home!” you gasp. “Of course we’re a little close!”

“Living in your home—”

“Not by choice,” you roll your eyes. “Just—my family’s all out of town right now. He’s kind of all I have at the moment.”

“Agh!” Jack groans, smacking himself on the forehead. “Genius move. Fuck, I should’ve locked you two in a room myself years ago—”

You put the tin back onto the counter and slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

He frowns. “Oh, man,” he pouts. “You don’t mean to tell me you two are still doing the thing?”

“What thing?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“You know, the thing,” he says, eyes innocent and wide as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The weird game you two play. I thought you guys would have gotten over it already.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, making you stammer and go red in the face as your confusion worsens. Jack notices this. “What, you really don’t know?”

“No, Jack, I do not,” you manage to breathe out. “Please, enlighten me.”

He shakes his head, lets out a strange chuckle as he leans back against the wall, having taken a tinnie off the counter. “This would be funny if it weren’t so tragic,” he starts, grimacing. “Oscar used to push guys on the soccer team around for talking about you. He’d go silent whenever you were around and get clammy in the hands. He got weird whenever he’d even hear your name. And I’m sure I don’t have to list out your incriminating actions.”

Needless to say you’re taken aback by this. Eyes wide and blank, you look at him with shock as your mind oscillates between delight and horror, hand resting on your chest as if your heart needs the help. Jack sighs, and after a moment of tense silence he speaks again. “I take it that’s enough proof for you.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“We thought you knew,” he shrugs. “And it wouldn’t have been my place to meddle, and also, it was kind of amusing to watch.”

You scoff bitterly. “Amusing.”

“Well, not so much now,” Doohan nods.

Silence fills the kitchen again, the chatter outside quiet against the deafening quietness inside. “You do like him, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.

You don’t answer, but all he has to do is look at your solemn face and see the emotions threatening to spill out of you. He comes closer, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Just take your time, mate.”

You nod, but you hear Oscar’s distinct timbre in the distance, speaking rapidly to someone. You turn your head and see him standing in the living room near the couch, and then—like magnets—he seems to feel your eyes raking over his figure, and meets your gaze as his head turns a little. Suddenly you’re sixteen again. He’s smiling at you like he used to, so fondly and sweetly, all the way from another room. Everything has changed but this feeling is the same. Oscar nods his head gently, as if to tell you ‘I’m doing okay over here, and I hope you are too,’ and you realise he’s dropped out of his conversation now just to look at you. He has always done this.

The hard part is over, but you didn’t know until it was spoken of.

You sweep the crushed cans off the table and into the garbage bag, back starting to hurt from all the cleanup you’ve had to do. Thank the lord they all left early; you haven’t been able to enjoy yourself fully since that talk with Doohan. Since then his words have just been eating away at you the whole night, but you can speak to Oscar just fine, you think. You’re trying your best, at least.

“Jesus, have the lights always been this bright?” he says, and by the way he’s stumbling onto the couch and slurring his words a little, he’s probably more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

You shake your head, turning around to face him. The cans inside the bag you’re holding clank against one another. “Fun night?”

“Not particularly,” he says, eyes shutting as he throws an arm over his face, lying down flat on the couch. “Just, those fucking Strong Zeroes, man.”

“I told Doohan he shouldn’t have!”

“He really shouldn’t have.” Oscar groans, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to push his face into the couch, and you chuckle before going back to cleaning up, moving towards the pile of cans on the kitchen island.

“Don’t leave,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?” you say. “I’m not. I’m just going into the kitch—”

“No,” he whines quietly, muffled by the fabric of the couch. “That’s too far. Stay.”

You stand still, still holding the bag in your hand, visibly confused.

“We should always be in the same room,” he continues. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

You flush at his words. You’re not sure if he quite grasps the implications of what he’s saying, but you chalk it all up to his current state—surely he’s just a clingy drunk. You put the garbage bag down against the wall, approaching the couch as he pulls his legs back to make room for you.

You sit down. “Are you feeling alright, Osc?”

“No,” he replies, too quickly for your liking. Oscar shuffles back onto his back, eyes still shut as his tone is reduced to grumbling. “I had this really awful thought the other day that we’re so far apart. I’m off doing my races and now you’re off at uni doing whatever.”

You cock your head to the side, clearly about to protest, but he starts up again. “I just want to know what you’re doing all the time,” he admits. “And how you’re feeling. I miss you all the time, and I wanna know you’re okay.”

“Oscar,” you frown, putting a hand on his arm tenderly. “If you want to stay in touch more, of course we can—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay in touch. I wanna be with you.”

You pull your arm back. He winces, missing your touch. “Tiny, this must sound so crazy.”

“No,” you assure him, though you’re struggling to comprehend his words. “I just don’t know what you me—”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your blood runs cold even as your stomach shatters and explodes into a million butterflies that feel hot like lava inside of your body. “I know it must sound so crazy,” Oscar chuckles bitterly. “I know it must be so crazy…”

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think it’s crazy. I just, I wonder how you’ll feel in the morning.”

“It’s not the alcohol.”

He opens his eyes only to look at you, pupils darting around slowly to find you, the only soothing sight when the lights are still killing him. Oscar smiles a little at your familiar face. “I spoke to Doohan,” he explains.

“Ah,” you mumble, flushing. Of course he did.

He pauses a bit, tries to find the courage to speak again. He finds it in how your eyes seem to shine a little brighter where you’re sitting, mesmerised by how beautiful you are tonight. “He’s right, you know. I feel a bit silly, or stupid rather, like I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Well,” you chuckle timidly, looking down at your hands. “I would have some explaining to do myself, too.”

Oscar smiles to himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath; he didn’t even realise he’d been holding it in this whole time. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that.”

At his words, you look up to meet his eyes again, to see how he’s smiling now, and it makes your chest expand with warmth, heart pumping fast. “I’ll feel the same in the morning,” he says, sitting up clumsily now just to look at your face better. He doesn’t want to look away ever again. “I promise you that. I’ve felt this way since forever—I just didn’t know the word for it yet.”

Your eyes widen just a little more at his words; you don’t recognise the inexplicable feeling that’s captured your body, but you think this is what he means. The thing he didn’t know the word for. But you know the word for it now.

“I think I love you too,” you say.

Oscar lets out a quiet noise of relief. He finds your hand in your lap, takes it in his, and just holds it. You look at each other for a long while, taking in the details of one another’s faces. “You don’t look a day over seven,” you chuckle, and it makes him grin softly.

“That’s alright. Did you feel then how you feel about me now?” he asks.

“I think you sealed the deal when you helped me get up on my feet after falling off the slide,” you quip with a smile, and he squeezes your hand a little approvingly.

“You remember that.”

“The little things aren’t little to me, either,” you say, and his heart soars at your words. Oscar can’t resist it anymore; he tugs on your hand a little and pulls you into his arms, hands latching onto your waist as he holds you tightly. You fall into each other like magnets. It just feels right, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but nothing in this world is truly given this way. You had been working for it your entire life, but you’re only knowing this now.

His lips hover over your cheek, and it makes you shiver, but it shouldn’t be like this. “I don’t want our first kiss to be when you’re drunk,” you tell him, pulling away from his flushed face. “It’s… You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. It just has to be right.”

Oscar swallows dryly, but he nods. “You’re right,” he says, with a gentle smile that tells you he’s being sincere. “You’re right. Not like this.”

He pulls you in again, holding you even tighter this time. You feel his heart beating out of his chest against yours, his warm breath against your skin, the warm his arms keep contracting as if he’s afraid to let you go. A warm waft of air filters through the window, left ajar, and swirls around the two of you, bodies now entangled. Neither of you can find a reason to leave, so you don’t. You never end up cleaning the kitchen that night.

The sun’s starting to filter through your blinds now, and you know you have no excuse to stay in bed anymore, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up. Your brother’s bedroom is probably collecting dust already; ever since that night, Oscar’s been sleeping in your bed now, and you both sleep so much better with a cuddle buddy by your side. He likes to be big spoon, but he’s happy to hold you face to face as well, duh! Why would he upset with getting to see your face, eyes shut so peacefully in slumber? He likes to wake up before you because of this, just so he can catch a glimpse of you so soft and pliable in his arms, comfortably happily asleep, but today you’re the one who wakes up first, stirred awake by the birds chirping outside your window.

You try to slip out of his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, furrowing his eyebrows in his sleep. You try again and he does it again, this time with a grumbling noise that makes you chuckle.

“Oscar,” you smile, press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “They come home today.”

“So?” he grumbles back, eyes still shut as he pulls you in, tucking your head under his chin. “What’s it got to do with us?”

“We’ve got to make them brekky, babe,” you chuckle. You press a kiss to his neck now, before deciding you can’t really resist littering them all over his skin. “They’ll be starving by the time they get here.”

Oscar makes a strange, hushed noise. “Well, doing that certainly won’t get me out of bed.”

You’re confused, but then you realise something’s been pressing up against your thigh, worsened by how he keeps pulling you back into his arms. “Oh my god, Osc,” you yelp. “Just from a few kisses?”

“And maybe a very good dream,” he mumbles back. If he were awake, he’d surely be laughing, pleased with himself.

“You dirty, dirty pervert,” you snicker, but you’re tutting at him in a way that sends a tingle down his spine, and your fingers inching down the trail on his stomach is making him shiver. “You’re shameless.”

“Yeah, but something tells me you like it,” he says, but he can barely finish the sentence before you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, shimmying them down. His length springs free; your eyes beam a little too brightly at the sight of it, making him laugh.

“Someone’s eager.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been dreaming about riding you into the bed for actual years,” you chuckle, long fingers wrapping around him. “You look delicious in the morning, you know that? All sleepy and dishevelled. It’s very sexy, Osc.”

“Ah?” he says, a moan disguised as a word. Your hand starts to move and he can barely hold himself back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your mouth is hovering over his cock now, warm breath making him shiver before your tongue makes contact with his tip, swirling all around the head in a way that makes his eyes roll back. “Holy shit,” you hear him mutter to himself, and you smile as you drag your tongue all over the length of him.

“Babe, I love the teasing,” he breathes out. “But I don’t think I can quite take it this morning.”

You hum to yourself, biting back a cheeky smile as a thought pops up in your head. “You know, you’re right,” you say. “We’re running on a tight schedule. And we could use something that saves time, so… if you’re getting head, you could give it too, no?”

Oscar’s face lights up at your words. “You wanna sit on my face? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.”

“Fuckin’ hell, any day of the week, missy.”

With that, he puts his hands on your head and pulls you up for a kiss that deepens into a little more. His lips are soft, mouth hot and wet; you feel yourself dampen a little against the cotton of your panties, something he feels too as his hands travel all the way down to your ass, fingers reaching past the fabric of your shorts inside to find the wet patch growing at your cunt. Your fingers hook into the waistband of both layers, tugging them off eagerly as he steadies his hands on your hips again. You turn around, and now Oscar’s got your pussy hovering right over his face. He think he’s salivating at the sight of it. Is that too crude? Jesus christ, it’s just so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined, waking up with you by his side, having the girl of all of his dreams with him now, eating your pussy first thing in the morning.

“You’re not so tiny anymore, hey? You’re a big girl now.”

You flush at his words. “Just get to it, Piastri.”

He needs no further encouragement, hands on your hips pulling you down to his face, tongue flicking a long stripe all the way down your cunt. You cry out at the sudden contact, and you realise very soon that he is very good at what he is doing, soft wet tongue sliding between your folds carefully, lips wrapping gently around your sensitive clit, hands gripping onto the meat of your ass, an action that signifies a clinginess you’d never know from how soft-spoken he is. He eats you out like a hungry man, lapping up the wetness that soaked your panties before eagerly. When you wrap your lips around his cock, taking all of him in until he hits the back of your throat, it makes him groan against your pussy, and it feels so strangely good that you keep throating him just like that every once in a while, just to feel him shift underneath you and thrust into your mouth a little. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, and he is, but he just can’t resist it when you’re doing that.

“Fuck, babe,” Oscar gasps out, pulling away as his fingers continue to rub at your clit. “If you keep doing that thing, I won’t last very long.”

You can tell by his tone he’s slightly embarrassed about taking such little time to get there. “We’ll get there together, I promise,” you say. “Just—ah!—keep using your fingers.”

He smiles, happy to oblige. This time he dips a finger inside you, tongue now swirling around your clit as his finger curls, finding that cushiony spot inside you that makes your back arch a little. There it is. He slips another finger in, tongue flicking fast against you, fingers pumping at a steady pace as you suck his cock sloppily, drool pooling at the base, fingers still wrapped around his length, lazily moving up and down. It’s all too much for the both of you, both moaning and whimpering against one another as your bodies start to get more and more sensitive, responding to each motion with a little more volume. Your back arches, his hips thrust; you know you’re both getting to that climax.

“Babe, fuck—”

“I know,” you gasp, a long mewl drawing out of you as his fingers, soaked in your slick now, keep thrusting in and out of you. “I’m—hah—almost there, too.”

He nods his head eagerly and latches his wet mouth back onto you, eating you out desperately as his hips start to move on their own, filling your mouth and muffling your increasing cries of pleasure as your eyes shut and roll back.

“I can’t take it,” he moans loudly. “Babe, I—oh my god!”

Just as Oscar starts to flood your mouth, you collapse onto him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, body slack and limp. “Jesus,” you heave out, flipping onto your back off of him, swallowing all of his load down your throat. The sight of it makes him whimper. You take a good look at him; he’s got your slick all over his face, glistening from his lips down to his chin.

“Christ, I made a mess of you,” you chuckle, embarrassed, but he seems proud of himself.

“A souvenir, yeah?” He jokes, and you push his chest, rolling your eyes, but he pulls you into his arms. “God, that was fuckin’ amazing. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

You pull the duvet back up over the both of you as you lie down once again, resting your head on his chest now as you look up at him with a smile. You wipe at his mouth with your hand. “There.”

“Aw,” he frowns playfully. “I quite liked it.”

“You fuckin’ pervert,” you say, going to push his chest again but he catches your arm with his hand.

“Don’t get feisty,” Oscar chuckles, shaking his head before pecking you on the forehead. “Let’s just lay here for a bit. And you know, I’ve been thinking.”

Your finger traces shapes on the freckled skin of his bare chest. “About what?”

“About you, coming to see me,” he says. “You know… I was thinking, maybe you could schedule your classes with me in my mind? You know, money’s not an issue. Transport, accommodation, passes, I can take care of all of that. I just need to know you can see me. Not for every race, obviously. But some of them. It’d mean so much to me, Tiny.”

You look up at him now, smiling. “Of course I can,” you nod gently. “It’d mean everything to me too, Osc.”

His face blooms into a smile, eyes raking over the details of your face, savouring it as if he hasn’t a million times before. “Then it’s done,” he says, bringing your hand up to kiss it. “You can’t escape me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” you roll your eyes.

Before Oscar can counter with a snarky remark, the door flies open.

“Piastri—seriously? My fucking sister?”

That’s the end! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Leave em all in my askbox, and again, thank you so much for reading!

[heartfullofleeches]

OKG OMG CATMAN DILF PRACTICING HIS SIGNATURE OVER AND OVER FOR GOLDENRETRIEVER READER ASKIN FOR AN AUTOGRAPH- OMGOMG

Yan Ex-Idol Catman + Fan Golden Retriever Hybrid Reader

-

He's done it a million times before. This should be easy-

"Maybe it's time for me to move again."

Moving cost outweigh the humiliation. He can always find another house near a park or school. One so close to either is hard to find around these parts, but he'll manage. The neighbors, on the other hand... It'd be hard to find anyone like that sweet mutt next door.

"Shit...." The feline scratches behind his ears - molars nawing at the plastic heart glued to the pen grasped in his fist. Torn scraps of notebook paper flutter to the carpeted floor around him as he props his arms up on the table - written signatures of differing scale and quality penned on each. If he could rewind the clock a decade or so - and used a pen with better ink, he'd have done it right the first time. All he had at he desk where the glittery pens his daughter left behind during her last visit. The kind that only seemed to work every other stroke. Had he really sunk so low to blame the inability to write his own name on a cheap pen? Why was he even doing this anyway? The day he quit, he swore he'd live his life for his fans no longer. Why go through all this effort now?

"Makariy!!!"

Fingernails claw at his front door. Makariy closes the notebook, tucking it beneath the couch cushions as he climbs up into the furniture. He pauses briefly to check his shirt for stains before speaking.

"It's open."

A gust of wind scatters more pages across the living room floor as the door is ripped out. While he may have hide the book, the physical evidence was still present. He brushes a few of the notes beneath the couch as you enter - trotting up to the coffee table where you drop a fatter stack of paper.

"I brought your mail, made you some lunch, and.... Are those?....."

Kneeling, you gather up some of the pages off the floor. The accelerating wag of your tail creates a small vacuum to which the remainder are sucked into. You snatch them up as well - bouncing on your heels from all the excitement coursing through your veins.

"Are these the signatures I asked you for?" Your voice comes out in quick exhalations - barely sparing a breath between each word. "I mean I only asked you for one, but I can have these too right?! Wait, are they for other people? I'm sorry for being greedy if they are, I just didn't think you'd actually do this for me! Thank you, thank you, thank you- Sir!

Makariy jumps up out of his seat as you bow at his feet. He pulls you off your knees, dragging you up onto the couch as he hears you digging underneath for the other scraps s he hid. "Hey, hey- What did I tell you about that Sir, shit. I'm just your neighbor, got it?

"I know, Si- Makariy. It's just not everyday you mean the lead singer for your favorite idol group. Let alone have him as your neighbor. I hope the food I brought will make up for my outburst."

You have to be conscious of it by now. Even you can't be this oblivious. If you continue to look at him with those eyes there's no way he'll be able to get out of this neighborhood anytime in the near future. There's no telling when the wonder in them will fade once you realize he's nothing like he was back then... He's not sure if his heart can take it.

"You're fine. Just stay for once instead of running off when I start eating. Why do you do that anyway?"

"Just trying to respect your privacy, Sir! Ack- I did it again, and didn't I....."

Oh well... Better to enjoy things while they last.

[fenxshiral]

Yeah, I'm trying to give this game a fair shot, but so far I'm not impressed. So far, the game in a vacuum isn't bad. The problem is that *by bioware standards* this is bad. Not gonna spoil anything, btw.

Dialogue is very… not good. It feels stilted, forced. Like dialogue written by a DM who’s new to DnD, or a college creative writing student writing a story they don't care about. This does not feel like dialogue written by Bioware, it feels like dialogue written by a new studio stocked with inexperience writers, or by a studio that’s never made a story driven game before. I wouldn’t necessarily classify the writing as *bad* so much as it’s amateurish. I know that most of the writing team is completely new for Veilguard, as most of the old guard has left or been let go from Bioware - but unfortunately it really shows. While I had my problems with DA2 and Inquisition, dialogue in the previous three games was tight and flowed naturally. It felt like dialogue written by seasoned pros who really knew how to make characters feel natural. This feels off in the way that only rushed or amateur writing can feel off. And it’s not an issue with voice acting - even though that isn’t the greatest either in some parts (but that’s another discussion) - it’s very much an issue with the quality of the writing. People accept things they shouldn’t, they question things they shouldn’t. This is dialogue written by people who don’t take the time (or don’t care) to think about how characters will think, feel or react. It’s dialogue written for the purpose of getting from point A to point B rather than to actually engage with the story and the world.  Again, not necessarily *bad* but it’s certainly not good. Maybe this is early game woes and the story struggles to get off the ground. I’ll revisit this later if the dialogue quality changes or stays the same.  

Character introductions are very lazy. So far every single character introduction has been the character popping out of nowhere to destroy something or to just Be there. It’s very lazy writing and I expect better of a studio with the pedigree of Bioware. I would accept this quality of writing from a new studio, but not a studio like Bioware that has shown they can do *much* better. It’s also very rushed. I don’t get to explore an area before the game goes “HERES A NEW CHARACTER WE WON’T DESCRIBE ENOUGH ABOUT FOR YOU TO CARE ABOUT THEM OKAY BYE.” So far the game has been cutscene simulator that has combat and dialogue tacked onto it. And not in a good way.

This is the quality of writing I’d expect from a Bethesda game, not a Bioware game. Again, not bad in a vacuum, but by Bioware standards, this quality of writing is atrocious. And to be completely honest - after the absolute dumpster fires that were Anthem and Andomeda, they really can't afford to release a game with 10+ years of hype behind it and have it be anything less than spectacular.

I really hope this game gets better in quality. Because so far, it's worse than inquisition in many respects and while Inquisition was better than DA2 it was still inferior to Origins in many ways.

I desperately want to give this game a fair shake because I've been enamored with this series ever since I first played Origins back in 2009. So we'll see.

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Daydreaming

fluffff plot: Satoru Gojo doesn't ever depend on anyone but himself, but waking up next to you is starting to make him feel a little... in love? content: it is like brain rotting fluff. waking up together, reminiscing the love story, mentions of Geto, reader referred to as his pretty girl, yayyyy word count: 1.5k satoru gojo x reader note: a bit of a drabble i cooked up rly quickly but honestly i love it so much I love gojo happy in love. kind of inspired by daydreaming by harry styles if you wanna listen to that!! <3 love u

Satoru Gojo has never been one to depend on others.

His entire life, he has been put on a pedestal by the entire Jujutsu society. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, solely due to qualities he was born with. He has always been expected to never depend on anyone as the world relies on him and his abilities. How weak would he be if the so-called "Strongest Sorcerer" ever needed any aid? So many eyes watch his every room that if he shows any sense of weakness, the existence of the world as humanity knows it may be at stake. He has learned through his training, through his old best friend Suguru Geto, through all of the losses, through every battle, through every decision he has ever made - he learned he was the only one he could truly depend on.

Gojo wants to help others - that's why he became a teacher. So others can grow strong, and they can save each other and themselves. To make up for his weakness getting the best of him; because he depended on his best friend, and it got the best of him. The next generation will at least be protected in a way his never was, and they will never have to feel the pressure Gojo finds himself under.

That's where you come in.

Golden sunlight gently embraces your features, emphasizing your beauty in such a vulnerable state. Your mouth is slightly agape, breathing quiet and evenly paced. You are at peace, dreaming sweet dreams about kittens pitter-pattering through the most gorgeous meadow with you.

Laying beside you and holding you in his arms now as he has been all night, Gojo admires you and the way the sun dances across your face and highlights how perfect you are. He watches the way your pretty eyelashes flutter every now and then, how your delicate fingers lay against your white bedsheets, how your messy hair sprawls across your pillowcase in a way that frames you to perfection. Your cheek is a little squished against the pillow, making your face look all cute and his stomach fills with butterflies, flying at high speeds and knocking into everything in their way.

Gojo can only think one thing as he watches you sleep: you are so beautiful.

You were in the same class as Gojo, only in Kyoto. While you weren't from one of the three great sorcerer clans of the jujutsu world, your lineage was decently known and well respected. When the two of you met, he thought you were cute, of course, but you were best friends with Utahime and she absolutely hated Gojo. At the time, he had no interest in anything other than meaningless flings and sex, anyway - which, from the rumors he'd heard around that that was not your thing (rumors being what he'd been told after bothering Shoko every single day with questions about you and what you are interested in, just because he wanted to hook up and not at all because you were the most beautiful person his six eyes had ever had the blessing to land upon and he never thought love at first sight was real until the moment he first saw you). Something about you had him holding back because deep down, he knew if he stepped too close to you, he would be completely sucked in, vacuumed sealed in your presence in an blink, and unable to control or stop it.

A couple years after being alumni from Jujutsu Tech, you ended up in the same place as each other - teachers at Tokyo's Jujutsu High. You moved after some conversations with Yaga who believed you were the perfect fit for a teacher at his school. You agreed, much to Gakuganji's dismay (though, you never liked the old man, so you were happy to be away from him finally). Gojo, still grieving his and Geto's friendship, tried his hardest to stay away from you at first. He resolved to put every ounce of his cursed energy into becoming stronger and saving as many as he could. He couldn't have any distractions, and he had been doing well with his plan ever since Shinjuku.

But once you were there, he was swept off of his feet almost instantly. He couldn't even try to stop it, because as strong as he was, he was weak at his knees just from looking at you. He knew you were special, but his eyes would never tell him exactly why, and he had to find out for himself or he would - as he had convinced himself - die.

He was over the moon for you. He tried to keep his distance, but how was he supposed to control himself when you kept talking to him at work, asking questions and requesting his help? At some point, he had found he memorized the crinkle in your eye when you smile, the way your cursed energy blended with his, and the curve of your upper lip that had always looked so delicious that he predicted it would be the best sweet he'd ever taste (which he eventually was able to confirm).

After very obviously swooning over you for about a year, Gojo found the courage to ask you to dinner, to which you asked why it took him so long to ask, and then you said yes to the date after that, and to the one after that, and to the one after that, and so on.

Which brings him to today - several dinner dates and a few coffee dates and one willyoupleasepleasepleasebemygirlfriend later. It's still early in the relationship, the time where it's all so fresh and new, and you are trying to figure out each other. At this point, you have practically moved into Gojo's home, with the excuse that it was closer to the school and on the way, so why not stay there all the time and bring all of your belongings with you - even your cat?

Satoru Gojo stares at you and starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to live without waking up to this everyday.

Maybe he could let himself depend on this. On you.

Maybe this is what love feels like.

The realization reverberates in his mind as he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself as he feels like he's dreaming alongside you. Your eyes crack open, growing more conscious as well as increasingly aware of your boyfriend's intense stare. You turn to look at him, confirming your suspicions, then cover your face to block his view.

"Hi, baby," Satoru quietly speaks, smile on his face spreading from the how adorable you are. "Sleep well?"

You smile at the softness of his voice - one that he only uses with you. "Woke up to you staring at me, creep," you tease. Satoru lets out a breathy laugh, watching as you reveal your face to him again. He reaches a hand to move a strand of hair blocking your eyes, allowing himself a clearer view of you.

"Sorry, you're just so pretty. I can't help myself, my pretty, pretty girl. 'm so lucky," Satoru coos. He tucks the strand behind your ear, bringing his hand down to your cheek. He leans your head toward his and places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent way of telling you he loves you.

Eventually, he'll find lots of ways to tell you he loves you without even speaking the words. Eventually, he will shower you with everything you could ever want, buy you sweets on missions, open doors for you, keep you safe, everything he can do to show how he feels about you to the world. Eventually, he will tell you those three dangerous words - and right now he is thinking of some extravagant ways to - but now is not the time.

Right now, he needs to savor this and savor you. Stressing about the so-called "L-Bomb" can be done later. Right now, he just wants you.

"Toru," you chastise, dragging on the end of the nickname only you can call him. It's a teasing scold, one full of sarcasm and sleepiness, and it made Toru's smile widen even more. He stares at you, his eyes uncovered and taking all of you in, no barrier between the two of you. No blindfold on, no sunglasses on; he lets you see all of him without filter, something so few are every granted permission to have a peek at.

You stare right back, somehow even more lost in his eyes than he is in yours. They truly are mesmerizing. They draw you in and have since the moment you first shared a glance with them - if someone told you his eyes had some magic love potion with no antidote, you would believe them. You lean up, landing a quick peck on his lips, and smile up at your boyfriend.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

The Satoru Gojo never needs to depend on anyone for anything, but sometimes, Your Toru just needs you. His pretty girl.

thank you for readdinnggggg i hope you like!

[ddarker-dreams]

Entanglement.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, unwanted kissing, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

“You’re still refusing to wear the clothes I gifted you, dearest?” 

A dulcet voice smoother than the finest silk coos from behind. 

You don’t deviate from your original task. Just outside the window, the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space looms. A mere panel of specialized glass is the only barrier between you and infinite nothingness. The concept used to frighten you, to a paralyzing extent. It got to the point your oh-so-benevolent captor had to make adjustments. Using some technology you’re unacquainted with, the dark canvas morphed into a familiar, more palpable set piece: the scenery of your home planet. 

You’ve since overcome this hurdle and no longer require the mirage’s services. 

Space isn’t what you fear anymore. No, it’s the woman with the future in her eyes who holds that distinction. 

“It isn’t to my taste.” 

“I know,” she agrees. Her perfume is near stupefying when it invades your senses. “It's to mine.” 

Kafka is either aggravatingly unassuming or laser-sharp with her intentions. You’re never given time to adjust to her fickle ways, the second you think you might understand her, she reveals just enough that you’re right back where you started. 

Gloved fingers hover over your wrist, causing your hair to stand on end. As if she’s playing a glissando on the piano, her fingers slowly creep up, from your forearm to your bare shoulder. Presently, you’re wearing one of the few garments you were allowed to bring. It’s a plain, white dress that she longs to stain with her own palette. 

Her arms envelop your midsection from behind. She nuzzles her nose into your neck, swaying you back and forth while she hums a haunting ballad. Can she hear the skipping of your heart? Does she consider it just another instrument to compose her hedonistic harmonies? 

“Are the stars truly that interesting?” she murmurs against your skin. “Surely, they aren’t prettier than I am, hm?” 

“Maybe. At least they understand the concept of personal space.” 

“Oh, I do as well. I just choose to ignore it when it comes to you.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t.” 

You can feel her smile.

“You’d be lonely without me. Maddeningly so.” 

“Insanity is tempting if you’re the alternative.” 

She laughs, the sound low and husky, belying any offense taken, if you had the hubris to think anything you said could hurt her. Before you can register anything, she twirls you around. In this new, uncomfortable intimate position, you’re forced to look her in the eye. There’s no quality of hers that unsettles you more. They draw you in and devour you like a black hole, picking apart actions you haven’t even committed yet. 

It reminds you, similar to the path she walks, that nothing you do will ever amount to any meaningful change in your circumstances. 

Kafka settles her gloved pointer finger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head up. Whatever she’s thinking is as unknowable as the universe itself. Her fondness for you is an illness without a cure — even she must know how sick it is. Something tells you that if a remedy for it ever existed, she’d refuse to take it, and would instead crush the vial before your eyes. 

“What a beauty you are,” she praises through lidded eyes. “There is no greater joy than knowing you feel every second we’re apart, just as I do.” 

Irate, you try moving your head away, but this causes her grip to tighten. Never enough to hurt — it’s only meant to warn. 

“I take it you don’t like the cosmetics I brought back, either?” 

Kafka delights in asking questions she already knows the answers to. If she had anything resembling a hobby, you suppose that would be it. 

The skin beneath her eyes crinkled with amusement at your abrupt vow of silence. You fight off a shiver at the look. It’s all-consuming, dangerous in a way that rouses your primal instincts. She leans down close enough that you can feel her breath fan against your face. Her head tilts in a deliberate show of faux curiosity. 

“Is your tongue frozen? Should I think of a way to warm it up?” 

The hand that isn’t holding your head in place toys with the strap of your dress. 

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. You know when to surrender in a losing game. 

“... No.” 

“No?” She repeats, mimicking the inflection of your voice. “Ah, well, that’s a shame.” 

You almost sigh in relief when her hand retreats. She reaches into a pocket on the inside of her coat and pulls out a tube of lipstick. She applies the roseate pigment, maintaining smoldering eye contact with you all the while.

After what feels like an eternity, she descends upon you, her lips seeking yours in a fit of scathing passion. You freeze up at the unexpected boldness. She takes advantage of your reverie, interlocking your lips in a languid motion. There’s no urgency to the kiss, she takes her time with you, just how she likes it. 

Her hand presses against your back, urging your chest to arch into hers. It isn’t until her hand starts venturing down that you return to your senses. In a fit of panic, you raise your hands to push her away. The defiance gets you nowhere — she catches your wrists with ease and holds them in place. 

Fortunately, she pulls back, although she doesn’t relinquish her grip. 

“I knew this color would look good on you,” Kafka sighs, almost wistful. Then, she raises your wrist and presses a lingering kiss against your pulse point. It leaves a smudged lipstick stain behind. “That leaves the issue of the outfit. Hm, what to do, what to do…” 

As if hit with an epiphany, her eyes light up in microscopic supernovas. “I know. If you need my help applying makeup, then why should getting dressed be any different? Why, you should’ve said so sooner.” 

Indignant, you seethe, “That isn’t…! Fine, I’ll put it on myself. Just— just turn around, okay?” 

“Of course. Anything for my sweet, shy girl.” 

Surprisingly, Kafka acquiesces. She pivots on her heel and covers her eyes with her hands. A teasing gesture, if you had to guess. 

Just when you believe you’re regained a semblance of control over the situation, she throws in a comment that snuffs out this fledgling hope. 

“I’ll give you to the count of a ten before I come and help you myself.” 

[papergirllife]

Jeong Jaehyun

CEO!Jaehyun x Secretary!reader

Synopsis:

You and Jaehyun take a trip to Florence and things get interesting on a boat with a surprise at the end :)))

warnings: public s*x (kinda), unprotected s*x, ch*king, br**ding kink, c*ck warming, strength kink, brief sub drop, tooth rotting fluff.

a/n: sorry i can't make it in time for a halloween fic, that would probably come out a bit later than expected :((, so here's a little treat instead to keep you guys sated :)))

The summer breeze feels freeing against your skin, the salt air is something you don't want to forget, the sea is a sparkling teal, you could really get used to this.

"What's on your mind, love?" Jaehyun asks, his big arms wrapped around your waist, his chin perched on your shoulder, you can feel his breath tickling your ears.

"That I'm gonna miss this very much when we're back in Seoul," you say with a longing sigh at the beautiful view.

Jaehyun hums in agreement, watching you swirl your glass of white wine before taking a long sip, you're taking in the beautiful view of Florence's sea view while he takes in his view, you, your hair blowing by, his prada sunglasses perched on the beautiful slope of your nose, your lips shining from the latest lip oil he's splurged on you after he's seen you watching numerous tiktoks of it. 

"We can come here again, you know," Jaehyun proposes, his cheek brushing against yours, nuzzling into your warmth.

"One, you have a company to run. Two, it's too expensive to do this again," you chide, it's been days already and still you never miss to mention the fact that Jaehyun dropped a bomb to plan this trip and book a whole yacht for the two of you, including a league of staff at your beck and call, the chef himself is from some really popular restaurant, his fresh pasta is to die for, you're sure the price for his services is deadly as well.

"I told you this before, I'd give you the whole world if you want," Jaehyun reminds you with a playful nudge of his head at yours, getting a laugh out of you.

"And how many times do I have to remind you? You as your own person is the equivalent of my world, not Jeong Jaehyun the CEO of a huge company, and not the benefits that come with your financial position," you say with a huff, you just know this trip is at least a year's worth of your salary, that he keeps adding for no reason mind you, what's the use of money when this man doesn't let you spend a cent of your own coin when he's around?

"I know, sweetheart, I just like spoiling you, treat it as a kink of mine, that I have this obsession with giving you princess treatment," Jaehyun says, trying to explain himself into your good books again.

"Whatever, I'm still not letting you spend a cent on groceries though," you argue, that was the deal when you moved in with him and found out that he paid for everything, utilities, necessities, your wardrobe; it was almost impossible to get him to agree to let you spend on groceries, that and whatever you manage to pick up on your way back when he works later than you, like that robot vacuum and mop hybrid you splurged on, and spending more on better quality groceries, including wine, which got a huff out of your mostly patient boyfriend.

"Wine is wine," he argued, hands on his waist, his brows furrowed, but you see right through him, he could never get mad at you.

"I put wine in pasta, and it's sold in the grocer, so it's considered as groceries," you say with a smug tone, and at that moment, Jaehyun thinks you look borderline cunning.

"Fine…"

"When we're married, I'm going to have to reevaluate our terms," Jaehyun says with a chuckle, kissing your temple.

"That's not going to be soon anyways," you say with a huff before finishing your glass of pricey wine.

"That can be changed," Jaehyun says, snatching the empty glass out of your hands, passing it to the staff before he tells her to dismiss everyone below deck.

"Right, as if you want to be tied down this quickly," you say, turning from the railing to face Jaehyun, slapping his chest playfully.

"Why? You don't think I love you enough to be tied down to you?" Jaehyun asks, the mirth disappearing in his eyes, catching you off guard.

"You're still very young, men don't like settling down so quickly," you say, cupping his cheeks, patting his cheeks, you love his mochi cheeks. 

"I'm 26, not 16, I know what I want, and that's loving you, for eternity," Jaehyun mumbles, talking despite his cheeks being squished by you, which he's quick to change, grasping your hands in his, placing them on his sturdy shoulders, "I'll prove my love to you," Jaehyun says before he slams his lips to yours, catching you off guard.

After 3 years of being with him, you still get light headed from the way he kisses you, and he knows, manoeuvring you to the big L shaped sofa.

"I'm going to prove to you now, that my love for you is as endless as the skies and the seas," Jaehyun promises after his lips part from yours. 

You quickly peel your clothes off of you, savouring Jaehyun's lustful eyes on you.

"You're a sight to behold," Jaehyun mutters before he reconnects his lips with yours. 

He just can't get enough of you today, how sweet you taste, your lip oil, the taste of bitter grape on your tongue, he's a fiend and you're his drug.

He shudders when he feels your hands make a quick work of getting rid of his clothes, your soft hands trailing through the arms that he's trained very hard for, grasping onto his biceps, Jaehyun smiles at the action, you've always been a fan of his muscles, spending your free time reading while Jaehyun works out in his personal gym, not a page turned.

Jaehyun breaks the kiss, looking at you with love drunk eyes.

"Get on fours for me, facing the ocean, let the world see how I worship my baby," Jaehyun says with mirth, eyes shining like a boy on Christmas day.

"As you wish, boss," you say before breaking out laughing when you see your boyfriend's deadpan expression.

"Very funny," Jaehyun muses before he gets distracted by the sight of your ass, a hand outstretched to smack one of your cheeks lightly, his cock growing hard at the sight of your cheek jiggling in his hold.

Jaehyun gets comfortable on the sofa before he bends down to get a quick taste, adjusting your body to his height, or he'd get a neck cramp and an earful from you later. 

Jaehyun groans when he gets an actual taste, and with one taste, he's hooked, tongue going from kitten licks to sinking his tongue deep inside your cunt, a hand grasping your cheeks open while his other hand makes its way to your sweet bundle of nerves, rotating your clit in slow circles, sending shocks down where Jaehyun's situated, drenching his mouth with your sweet juices, dripping down his chin, and the sounds you make, calling out to his name with that airy high pitched tone that only he gets to hear, if there's one thing that Jaehyun would never try in bed with you is gagging, god forbid him cockblocking himself from an eargasm, not even his favourite artists could compare to this personal melody only he gets to listens to.

You’re not the type to be super loud or something, in fact, Jaehyun often needs to remind you to be as loud as you want to be, and now with the staff being dismissed, you still fear that you’d be heard by anyone lingering nearby, but Jaeyhyun’s skillful tongue has your inhibitions down, his tongue and fingers strumming your body like a guitar, and he can tell you’re close, with the way you’ve drenched his hand, hips unconsciously pushing back to meet his touch, when his hands meet your swollen bundle of nerves, gasps of his name reach Jaehyun’s ears before he feels your juices drip down his hand.

Jaehyun has that smirk that you always tease for looking like an evil character in the dramas you always watch, the one where his face makes unconsciously, usually when he manages to get you flustered or at times like these, when Jaehyun makes a mess out of you just from his sheer dedication and familiarity of your body that he had studied obsessively.

“You need a rest, sweetheart?” Jaehyun asks when he helps you turn to face him again.

“I’m ready, we need to hurry up, I don’t want the staff to think we’re having sex right now,” you say before swivelling your hips on his length, he’s already hard and it’s just from pleasuring you, the thought has flowers blooming in your heart.

“But we are fucking right now,” Jaehyun said before he bellows out a full on laugh, which led to you shushing him with the palm of your hand.

“Exactly, that’s why we need to hurry up,” you said before you give Jaehyun back his ability to talk, positioning yourself away from Jaehyun, and suddenly, Jaehyun’s second favourite sight comes into view, the only ‘human’ peach he desires.

“So romantic of you,” Jaehyun jokes, lightly smacking your butt, he could never get bored of doing that.

“I want to enjoy the view,” you say with a huff, finally settling into a spot where the cushion feels comfortable under your elbows and knees.

“See how the horizon looks endless? My love for you is as deep as the sea, and as limitless as the sky,” Jaehyun says by your ear before he crouches over you to kiss you, he always does that, sealing his affirmations for you with a kiss.

Just a quick one, then he traces your back with his lips, the soft kisses tracing your arched spine, way down till your tailbone before he rises up again, his warm palms spreading you open gently, the sea breeze hitting your most intimate parts of you, the cool feeling quickly fading when you feel Jaehyun’s length sinking inside you, the stretch so familiar, comforting even, as the pleasure that only Jaehyun could give you once again dance through your nerves, and the feeling of being so full, so complete, you don’t think you’d want to live a world without Jaehyun, not when you’re an addict for this man you call your lover, the power he holds over you is stronger than any temptation this world has to offer.

Your eyes go cross when Jaehyun finally deems you ready for him to pick up the pace, he locates your sweet spot with the blunt of his tip, and you lose some of your composure, Jaehyun’s name escaping your lips, his name broken in parts of two and three, depending on the rhythm of his hips, and soon the beautiful view in front of you is distorted from your lust altered vision, the horizon blurring into one, just like you and Jaehyun, bodies smudged into one being, fused together by the love the two of you share.

“Ready to fall apart again, my love?” Jaehyun asks, his voice laboured from his movements, at first you didn’t know what he was saying, that is, until you feel his fingertips grazing your clit again, your hips jerking at the touch, still sensitive from before, but Jaehyun, being the service dom he is, he never wants to push you into a quick succession without your permission, hence he waits for the quick nod of your head and the breathless yes you barely managed to utter before he draws figure eights onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, he reads your body like an open book, the way you’re slumped forward, arms supporting your body instead of your elbows now, he just knows he’s going to get complaints about how he tires your body out every time you guys have sex.

Jaehyun’s spare hand winds around the base of your neck, pulling you up with a gasp of your lips, his lips touching yours, his nose digging into your cheek, the feeling so domestic, so distracting that you didn’t even notice his hand leaving your neck before you feel one of your nipples pinched between his fingers, and that’s what pushes you over the edge, your body already high strung from just his cock inside you, but his pace stutters before you feel the warmth of his seed paint your walls, the feeling sending a shudder down your back.

Jaehyun rides out your high with slow and deep thrusts, and when he starts picking up the pace again, you indulge him, just as much as he indulges in you, he knows you love a little bit of pain, sending your body into another wave of pleasurable crescendo with a cry of his name and tears prickling at the corner of your eyes, and then he stops, pulling out of you gently while he whispers of how good you were for him amongst other praises that ground you after a heavier session like that. 

“You with me baby?” Jaehyun asks while he manoeuvres you on your back, palms cradling your cheeks as if he’s trying to pull you back to the right headspace, and after a few blinks to clear your head, you remember who you are and most importantly, where you are.

“Oh my god, we need to hurry and get dressed,” you say, your eyes frantically scanning around to find your clothes.

“Hey, no rush, I’ll find your clothes and dress you, you just sit here and catch your breath, okay?” Jaehyun assures you before he quickly fetches your clothes and dresses you, giving you a quick peck on the forehead before he dresses himself and retrieves the pitcher of water to fill your glass for you, handing it to you, you didn’t realise how thirsty you were until you finished it.

“Feeling better now?” Jaehyun asks after draining his own glass.

“Yeah, would’ve liked having you stay inside me for a bit longer though, but this is definitely not the place to do so,” you say with a chuckle.

“Let’s retire back to our cabin then, I want cuddles anyways,” Jaehyun suggests before he sweeps you off the couch, carrying you bridal style down back to your room. 

When the two of you wake, it’s evening and the chef is preparing your dinner on deck, the scent of pasta sauce making your stomach rumble after what Jaehyun put you through. 

“Are you excited to go to Milan tomorrow? It’s fashion week after all,” Jaehyun says, he used the excuse of his artists’ brand endorsement to travel all the way here, not that he needed one, but the board’s old men are sometimes very…demanding.

“Yeah, I’m excited to see the Galleria, it always looks so pretty in photos,” you say, when Jaehyun first announced the two of you would be going to Italy, you quickly looked up what's famous there, other than the leaning tower and the colosseum. 

“We can go there right after we rest up, and the fashion show doesn’t take all that long, business meetings are the day after the show, so we’ll have plenty of time together,” Jaehyun promises, he’s always been so accommodating to you, always trying his best to balance his work and you, and for that, you’ll always be grateful.

“You’re sure it’s not getting in the way of your work?” you ask, but Jaehyun is quick to shake his head no, before the chef announces that dinner is served.

Dinner was brief, both of you were starving from today’s strenuous activity, and now you and Jaehyun are once again seated on the sofa, planning to take a walk around town for dessert after your dinner digests.

“There’s something I need to do before we dock,” Jaehyun says before he sees the staff once again retreating down below deck, glad that they remember his request for them to do so.

“What is it?” you ask, quickly assuming that he needs to take a call from Seoul or something, he tries not to, but you know it’s a given with his job and you respect it.

Then, Jaehyun gets down on one knee, his hand reaching into his pant’s pocket to reach for something bulky, and when you see the velvet material, your heart drops.

“I remember what you said this afternoon, about men my age not willing to settle down so soon, but I’m here, down on one knee, to prove to you that I’m willing to settle down young, If you give me the chance, I’d love if you gave me the chance to be truly yours, I know I’m a busy man, and that I have moments where I don’t give you enough of my time and attention,” Jaehyun says with melancholy swimming in his eyes, and immediately you shake your head, but before you could open your mouth to protest, Jaehyun continues his speech, “I spent three years with you now, lived together for two, but I want to spend every life with you if given the chance, so in this life, would I be able to have the honour to officially call you mine? You can finally be Mrs Jeong,” Jaehyun says with utmost sincerity, even the little inside joke he tacked on is a goal of his.

“Jaehyun, I’d be a dumbass to not say no,” you say before squatting down to his level, tackling him against the sofa with a big fat kiss, your weight crashing down on him, the air getting pushed out of his lungs from your sheer force, but Jaehyun would let you do it over and over again if it means he gets to see you smile this wide, everyday of his life.

“Thank you, sweetheart, I love you, more than you’d ever imagine, Mrs Jeong.”

“I love you too, Mr Jeong.”

[rayclubs]

HxH Genei Ryodan is such a masterclass in humanizing villains, honestly to a ridiculous degree. They're legitimately terrifying, their crimes are cruel and inexcusable, the violent acts they commit are nearly always played seriously and condemned by the narrative, and yet I find myself rooting for them in every scene they're in.

It's not even the sad backstories some of them have, it's much deeper than that. I think I'm just fascinated with the intricate and peculiar friendship they all share. It's easier to get attached to comedy rather than drama, as a rule of thumb, and they're just endlessly funny.

I've been searching for examples of the interactions that stuck with me and was going to include screenshots but there are just way too many things. Like, okay, in no particular order:

Shizuku wearing Phinks' coat after her sweater gets torn in a fight.

Phinks tucking Kalluto under his arm like a chicken and carrying him out of an exploding building.

Nobunaga getting trapped in a pocket dimension and everybody agreeing that he should just stay there awhile because they've just taken a hostage and now there isn't enough space in the car.

Machi and Nobunaga hanging out like normal people, drinking beer and serving cunt effortlessly in stylistically matching outfits.

Kuroro getting a prediction that "the spider will lose half of its legs" and immediately going "nope not losing any of my men out there let's pack it"

Hisoka actually fucking saying "I can't tell you that. If I told you that, I would be telling you what I can't tell you. This is why I can't tell you that. That's all I can tell you." and they believed him. Maybe it's more normal with English subs, I dunno.

Everyone playing cards while Uvogin is fighting, all while talking about how good Uvogin is at fighting.

Uvogin giving Shalnark a little kissie. I don't even ship them, I think he just kisses all of his homies like a real man.

Franklin getting sent after a crate of beer. Like, that's just so funny to me. Errand boy.

Feitan and Shalnark calling Phinks "very feminine" and giggling.

Franklin and Nobunaga just fucking going at it, sword on gun violence, for no reason whatsoever. It seemed like they were having fun.

Nobunaga asking rhetorically how strong he is compared to the rest of the gang and them replying "7th or 8th idk" you fucking know they debated this.

Uvogin getting his dumb sexy ass captured and everyone showing up for him awww

Everyone being supportive of Shizuku being fucking stupid. Not even in a sweet way or anything, just kind of acknowledging that she has zero thoughts in her brain. "Shizuku why didn't you use your left hand" because she was spinning a vacuum cleaner in her mind, what's not clicking

Dunno what they call Kurapika in the English version but in the Russian subs they all collectively only ever refer to him as "ублюдок с цепями" or "the asshole with the chains".

Nobunaga immediately inviting two twelve-year-olds to join because he thinks they're hilarious, and everyone going "yeah okay as long as the boss is cool with it". You go Nobunaga, everybody grieves differently

The kids refuse and escape, go spying on the other members again, get caught again, and when Nobunaga sees them he's all "Wanna be friends now? ^^" <- nobody has anything against this

Feitan having his arm broken in a fight and Phinks going "HA!"

Literally every single time they toss a coin, but especially when Phinks and Bonolenov were arguing over who should fight Zazan if Feitan fucking dies???

Shalnark being a fucking gamer and inviting everyone else to speedrun Greed Island with him. Franklin going "no thanks" next shot he's in the goddamn game

Tossing the phone around. Can't remember whose phone it originally was but passing it around was hilarious every time. "We already killed the hostages" beep beep beep "Sorry I lied"

There are so many moments and I'm not even halfway done. Supreme quality villains. I need more of them. I need to inject them directly into my brain.

[tackytigerfic]

tacky! if you’re not fed up with talking about it: what was your macro process for first watch of the night, soup to nuts? wondering about how you broke down outlining, drafting, editing. was it different in scope from your ordinary process, or just scaled up?

soup to nuts, baby (i had to google that, it is one of those delightful phrases that we don't use here and i'm hopelessly charmed by it).

thanks for the ask, pal. i'm always interested in people's processes myself, particularly since I came to writing so late (late 30s) and have never approached it formally. i do read an awful lot and that i think is my main influence and teacher (less so in recent years but am trying to get back to incessant reading). i have also been trying to read more works in translation and to revisit classics too, as well as try more formally inventive works. this i struggle with as i'm a bit basic when it comes to reading, i like the segue 'twixt page and brain to be seamless so it's like i'm absorbing it rather than thinking about it, while ofc a more experimental style does often necessitate thinking about it. My partner (approvingly) described my original work as a 'stylistic blank' (the cleaner the better i say) and that's exactly what i like best to read - though it's always a pleasure to be dragged by the throat out of my comfort zone too.

I would always have described myself as a pantser - I never outline, never do writing exercises or character work or beat sheets or whatever (i'm quite resistant to a very structured formal approach). every fic i ever write starts with the germ of one very specific idea - a cameraflash-quick image of a scene, a piece of dialogue... whatever it is. and then i usually start to write at the start and then work my way through.

This one was fairly similar in approach, initially. I opened one doc for loose note-taking — it's where i jot down any ideas i had for scenes, any snippets of dialogue, anything I'd need to remember. I then started writing the fic itself - in this case, I actually skipped through and wrote out of order, not that I knew what order things were going to go in, as such - but I just wrote any scenes I had thought of that felt interesting to me, and skipped a lot of the world-buildingy scenes or the sort of "texture" scenes, the ones that construct a sense of the world they're in and the relationships they have. I then found myself in the position of having to go back and write those bridging scenes, and make the connections (which in some cases did not naturally fall into place) - it was not easy, and I wish i had taken a more linear approach to the writing, in retrospect.

So by the end, some scenes in this fic were written in 2021 and some in late 2024, which means that when I finally finished the rough first draft, the writing quality was patchy, the pacing was off, and some plotty stuff really didn't make sense. That's when the real hard work started.

A few people had looked over very early scenes, but the bulk of the fic was written with no input from anyone else - just three years of writing it into a vacuum without any sense of perspective. Showing it to my alpha/beta people was so nerve-wracking. they read it at different times, which was great as i could concentrate on their feedback one by one, and all three of them had different suggestions (as well as lots of overlap ofc). It was extremely helpful to see what made sense to them, and what they liked - but more significantly, what bits they went 'what the fuck' at, or which bits all three of them had issue with (i'm thinking of the ending here, i really had to kill some darlings there when all three were unanimously just like... tacky no). i had different docs for all three of them, and i worked off one master doc, deciding which changes i wanted to incorporate and how i wanted to approach them. plot stuff was a HUGE issue. the writing quality could be smoothed out - but i'm not a plotty writer and sadly this fic has A LOT of plot. so i needed to work on that. i also have some wolfstar (including a sex scene) which i was nervous about, as i have never read any wolfstar.

Once i finished all the edits, i then did one more read-through myself. I've never edited on such a significant level before. my other two longer fics were written for fests, usually in a scramble to get them done on time — this felt expansive in a way i couldn't have imagined allowing myself to be before i was in it, but as i was working it didn't feel necessary to try to force myself into speed i couldn't hope to achieve or maintain.

@sweet-s0rr0w and i had a really happy morning organising the chapter breaks, and then i had to decide on a title and write a summary. tagging was easier as i had my friends to advise.

another big difference to previous processes is the posting schedule. now i'm posting a chapter every two days, i spend the day between posts working on the upcoming chapter one more time. in all but one chapter i have made quite a few changes immediately prior to posting, which just goes to show that the work is shaping itself as it goes. It's been fascinating to me how putting the fic out into the world is giving me a sense of perspective, creative distance, and dare i say a tighter control over the narrative now that it's not just in my head anymore? so i do think any tiny remaining wrinkles are more satisfyingly flattened than i could have ever hoped for.

so in short, this work is different in scale, ambition, and process in almost every way to anything i've ever written. I can't imagine i'm likely to be able to pour myself into something so profoundly ever again, tbh. it took me by surprise, but it's been the most creatively satisfying thing i've ever done. having people finally reading it (and so generously too) is like getting a very special gift.

Regrets? Being the slowest writer in the world, being too perfectionist (not that i think it's perfect in any way, just i wanted it to be the best i could make it, when it probably would have been grand if it was ehhh fine, you know?) Also, i think i could probably have refined the pacing a bit more. We're on chapter 7 now and six months have passed, so basically the last three months of the fic take place over the last 14 chapters 🙈 But that's because this is where most of the romance and plot develops, so it makes sense that it would take up more space. And i do firmly believe that fics should be a bit self-inulgent, so why not stretch out in the parts i'm most interested in writing?

tagging @citrusses @maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w who i can never thank enough for the work they did to get me to this point. everyone already knows what brilliant writers all three are - what a lucky bastard i am to have had their insights and advice.

[stormyrainyday]

apologies this is far from a coherent shower thought but i think it's time we like. decided to detach our identity a bit from the things we do. it's fine to just read. you don't have to be a reader. it's fine to just game. you don't have to be a gamer. you can be those things but i feel like in a quest to find ourselves and open our hearts, especially to others online (because i know, the first thing we do when on a new platform is say hi im [name] i like these things we should talk, i know, i do, my pinned post is literally that), i feel like we forget that we are more than the things we do and even the things we love. we, to borrow words from slay the princess, contain it in our multitudes.

it's a sentiment i've felt for a long time as someone who has been on the internet and in fandom spaces for a good decade now, and like. i find when we hold these things so close that they become us, we become too defensive over them. how many minor fandom disagreements spiral into threats, name calling, doxxing even? i find, especially younger users in fan spaces, tend to take even small differences of opinion and take them personally. saw someone blow up and call people awful names over believing only one person could top in a genshin ship. another left a server i was in because they disliked a popular character, and other (respectfully), decided to share why they did like her. i get that things like rejection sensitivity are a thing, but i think this failure to recognize the self as an entity apart from the things you do and the thoughts you have definitely contribute to this. phenomenon i suppose.

it's genuinely slay the princess that has given me the vocabulary to express and understand this thing i was already thinking. i think, though we are not gods, it's important to understand that we are not things so easily defined. we consist of our thoughts, our actions, our perceptions, our beliefs, and more. even the outside world's perception of us reflects some part of our nature. but not all of it. it's impossible to define oneself in one, two, three words or even an essay.

because like we don't exist in a vacuum. part of our existence is defined in our interactions with others. but not all. never all. there is no one who can truly know you, and we cannot truly know ourselves. our principles bend to the whims of circumstance no matter what we tell ourselves otherwise, so we can't decide what we are or what we would be in a situation for sure, ever. and that's not a bad thing, but if we can't ever truly know ourselves, then how can we assign such great importance to something as superficial as the things we enjoy sometimes?

we are both a constant and the capacity to change. and to take just a handful of things and call it your identity, even subconsciously, is a disservice to the self. in an effort to be seen we break ourselves down into easy (i hate to say it but) marketable pieces.

take being a reader for example. it has always felt like vague slang for booksmart, thoughtful, likely quiet and introverted as well, just as much as it means "i like to read books". theres an aesthetic to it involved, and a whole subculture. do you write in your books? do you keep them museum-fresh quality? do you read smut or classics or high fantasy or satire and what does it say about you? if you say audiobooks aren't real literature, are you signalling to others about quality and sophistication, or are you a pretentious asshole, and ableist to boot? these connotations assigned to such an otherwise benign thing about someone are i think are reflective of the construct of identity and perception. i could go on about it in a way that's more coherent but i, a student, have other things to do right now.

(does being a student make me intelligent? does it impress you to know i study medicine? what if i told you i average Cs in my classes? what if i told you i dislike patient care? what if i told you i'm not here for the money OR to make the world a better place, and that i'm here purely to serve my curiosities about the way the body functions and to absolve my obsessive need to understand just what are we? does this change what you think of me? does it matter? what if you knew the guilt i felt for seeing so much suffering, but still hating patient care enough to worry endlessly about being stuck in it as a career? am i better for it? but i have not acted on this guilt. it is a mere feeling that only i know. knew. is it different now that i've confessed it? does it matter? does any of it change who i am, fundamentally? or am i a thing detached from it all? or. as i like to believe. is it both? your shifting perceptions of me and the way i change shape and form (so much like our beloved princess in slay the princess) in your eyes, they make up me just as much as the soul or the self or whatever other philosophical name you assign to it. at the end of the day, isn't the most important thing that i am just me? both devoid of and constituted of the sum of my parts? what is found in the spaces between my cells? impulses and chemicals. is that me? is it all me? can i ever really know it? and why, why, why define it at all?)

[ofswordsandpens]

Finale Thoughts

The show stuck the ending far better than I thought it would and when compared to the preceding episodes it knocks it out of the park. That being said, I think because the bar was so low going in, that it makes this episode feel spectacular when really every episode should have done this well, at minimum.

Solo Lessons and Ares Battle

I'm so happy they included the one-on-one training sessions with Luke since its so essential to foreshadowing. I also liked the setting in the woods but why was it like autumn/fall in the flashback lol? However, I think that did unintentionally add a dreamlike quality to the scene which I did really like so whatever I'm here for it.

That being said I do wish these scenes were in episode 2/3 alongside the other chb stuff instead of being a flashback in the finale because it makes it just so on the nose that Luke's the traitor. However, the shot panning from Luke's extended sword to Percy's on the beach ate I can't lie.

Honestly it may have been interesting if they had established some of the solo lessons early on in episode 3 and then done periodic flashbacks to expand on them throughout the series. That way, its not so obvious that Luke's the traitor in the final hour and we also get cool transition shots and establishing that Percy is thinking about what he's learned from his lessons with Luke.

#Relieved that the Ares and Percy fight was not a single sword strike and then cut to black. Glad we had some action. Still think we should've pushed the limits much harder tho.

Oh but Percy's wave did go hard. They actually made the wave much bigger than what happened in the book and now I'm just sitting here wondering why we couldn't see some more of this instead of 10,000 cut to black scenes every time Percy uses his powers.

I wish we had gotten this Ares's reaction from the book when he lost: "The roar that followed made Hades’s earthquake look like a minor event. The very sea was blasted back from Ares, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide." Show Ares's reaction seemed so anticlimactic in comparison.

And no curse???? huh??

I know Ares was like "we're enemies 4 life now" but the curse and dialogue from the book goes so unbelievably hard: “You have made an enemy, godling. You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware.”

Why couldn't show Ares say that??

Olympus, Zeus, & Poseidon

[Insert aw, she's ugly John Mulaney Meme]

sorry Olympus could've should've been prettier.

Like Olympus in the book felt a lot more wondrous and lush and colorful. But in the show it seemed so dull. Idk if its cause the "war's happening" or whatever it was just bland. a wash of dull-looking cgi and then an instant cut to the Big Palace.

Lance Reddick's Zeus was amazing tho. He had that godly presence I've been waiting for.

And Toby Stephens's Poseidon? oh I loved it.

I especially loved their conversation in greek.

I still wish however they would have done effects on the gods' eyes. Like glowing with energy or something when they get emotional. I felt like I was waiting to see electricity burst from Zeus when he was yelling at Percy.

And so it turns out that the reason why they changed it to Percy missing the deadline in the show was to create a situation in which Poseidon surrenders a war for his son.

And listen, if this scene existed in a vacuum I'd be so here for it. I guess a part of me can't fathom the solstice being anything other than a hard deadline. I enjoy the scene without context, within context I have mixed feelings about it.

But the "do you dream?" convo between Percy and Poseidon. Oh my god no notes. I loved it.

Some more book dialogue that I wish made it: “You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God.”

Luke's Betrayal

Okay here's where we get some high highs and low lows.

Some things I sincerely liked:

The setting. Fireworks going off in the background. The lantern illuminating the side of Luke's face with the scar. So visually nice.

Luke actively trying to recruit Percy! I've always joked that if Luke was just a little smarter he would have tried to persuade Percy to join his side rather than immediately kill him. And I do like that the show went this direction.

While I do mourn the loss of the scorpion them battling via swords is a great subversion of the sword mentor/mentee dynamic they share. It makes the scene tense and fast pace.

And its all of the above that makes me wonder why we didn't have more of this throughout the show: talking while battling, visually appealing and dynamic settings, unique visuals, etc.

I love how triggered Luke was at Percy's mention of meeting Hermes. I still hate how much Hermes introduction bogged down the show but damn if it didn't lead to one singular funny moment.

Percy getting a hit in on Luke and then immediately apologizing

"I didn't think you'd give the shoes to Grover." Oh that was cold.

Walker and Charlie deserve their flowers and more they were fantastic and carried.

Now things I DIDN'T like:

I don't like how Percy pieced it together with the information he did have... which honestly isn't a lot in the show? If he was going to figure out that Luke was the traitor I would've have had Luke show more of his bitterness like he did in the book. Like the fact the show never even mentioned Luke's failed his quest loses the entire element of Percy succeeding an "impossible" quest and being celebrated while Luke only got a scar and a chip on his shoulder from his failed one.

Luke's scar shoulda been worse idc.

Percy should have been mortally wounded. That's where we run into an issue with there being no scorpion because yeah, a fatal sword injury probably would've been a bit much to depict. I also 10000% think that Luke is enough of a baby to get his daddy issues triggered and then try to off Percy for it even if his original intention was to recruit him.

Also the fact that you see Luke raise his sword for a damning blow and then the very next day you have Percy like "I don't think Luke was trying to kill me." and Chiron agreeing? asdlkfjsdlkf WRONG.

Also, sorry, I don't like that Annabeth was there.

But if you're gonna have Annabeth there, her reaction to Luke betraying her and trying to hurt Percy should've been way more severe than a solemn "I heard everything."

She shoulda been crying, questioning, yelling even if she had suspected him. It's one thing to suspect it, it's another to see the person you consider your family to actually prove it true.

(And this isn't on Leah! It's 100% on the directors cause what was the thought process here? Her brother figure betrays her and she's like :/)

And sure, in the book Annabeth isn't actually all that surprised by Luke's betrayal when Percy tells her about it... but we also never got to see her initial reaction to it. Percy was out for 2 days.

Just, if book Annabeth had been there, she would've been so emotional and that's okay!! let Leah show off her chops!

Sally

I mourn book Sally. I mourn her arc. I mourn the power of Sally unapologetically petrifying Gabe with Medusa's head.

One of the most iconic storylines from the book and it was sanitized in the show to the point that it lost all sense and meaning.

Honestly one of the biggest disappointments of the show for me.

Other

I love the fact that a flower is the searcher's license for satyrs its just so silly and sweet.

I love Annabeth sincerely hugging Percy but also using it for strategizing purposes it feels very on point for her.

Also her braids at the end!! so sweet!

I am very very bitter that Percy didn't see the fates. This + the changes made to Sally's characterization and arc... the show truly doesn't get it.