#of course mindful education is an exception

[incdrop]

well, season 4 happened. how does so much happen in a season, and yet so little? most of it feels like off-model filler? is that an exaggeration?

[classicintp]

Can't stand it when professionals have objectively bad takes but they're legitmately professionals and you're just some guy. You recognize this, you acknowledge it, you even appreciate it in the appropriate context, but it's so fucking infuriating. Even if the professional is humble and concedes to your point, which is usually not going to happen to even the humble in general unless it's a correction directly being witnessed, you still have their diehard fans demonizing you because you proved their idol wrong (even if you weren't pompous or obnoxious about it, just the idea that their beloved expert was human and made an error drives them mad). So I white-knuckle it and say nothing and then log into Tumblr and blurt it out in the tags.

[http-numbah5]

bros is aupairing still a possibiity?

[txttletale]

Saw a tweet that said something around:

"cannot emphasize enough how horrid chatgpt is, y'all. it's depleting our global power & water supply, stopping us from thinking or writing critically, plagiarizing human artists. today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools. this isn't a world we deserve"

I've seen some of your AI posts and they seem nuanced, but how would you respond do this? Cause it seems fairly-on point and like the crux of most worries. Sorry if this is a troublesome ask, just trying to learn so any input would be appreciated.

i would simply respond that almost none of that is true.

'depleting the global power and water supply'

something i've seen making the roudns on tumblr is that chatgpt queries use 3 watt-hours per query. wow, that sounds like a lot, especially with all the articles emphasizing that this is ten times as much as google search. let's check some other very common power uses:

running a microwave for ten minutes is 133 watt-hours

gaming on your ps5 for an hour is 200 watt-hours

watching an hour of netflix is 800 watt-hours

and those are just domestic consumer electricty uses!

a single streetlight's typical operation 1.2 kilowatt-hours a day (or 1200 watt-hours)

a digital billboard being on for an hour is 4.7 kilowatt-hours (or 4700 watt-hours)

i think i've proved my point, so let's move on to the bigger picture: there are estimates that AI is going to cause datacenters to double or even triple in power consumption in the next year or two! damn that sounds scary. hey, how significant as a percentage of global power consumption are datecenters?

1-1.5%.

ah. well. nevertheless!

what about that water? yeah, datacenters use a lot of water for cooling. 1.7 billion gallons (microsoft's usage figure for 2021) is a lot of water! of course, when you look at those huge and scary numbers, there's some important context missing. it's not like that water is shipped to venus: some of it is evaporated and the rest is generally recycled in cooling towers. also, not all of the water used is potable--some datacenters cool themselves with filtered wastewater.

most importantly, this number is for all data centers. there's no good way to separate the 'AI' out for that, except to make educated guesses based on power consumption and percentage changes. that water figure isn't all attributable to AI, plenty of it is necessary to simply run regular web servers.

but sure, just taking that number in isolation, i think we can all broadly agree that it's bad that, for example, people are being asked to reduce their household water usage while google waltzes in and takes billions of gallons from those same public reservoirs.

but again, let's put this in perspective: in 2017, coca cola used 289 billion liters of water--that's 7 billion gallons! bayer (formerly monsanto) in 2018 used 124 million cubic meters--that's 32 billion gallons!

so, like. yeah, AI uses electricity, and water, to do a bunch of stuff that is basically silly and frivolous, and that is broadly speaking, as someone who likes living on a planet that is less than 30% on fire, bad. but if you look at the overall numbers involved it is a miniscule drop in the ocean! it is a functional irrelevance! it is not in any way 'depleting' anything!

'stopping us from thinking or writing critically'

this is the same old reactionary canard we hear over and over again in different forms. when was this mythic golden age when everyone was thinking and writing critically? surely we have all heard these same complaints about tiktok, about phones, about the internet itself? if we had been around a few hundred years earlier, we could have heard that "The free access which many young people have to romances, novels, and plays has poisoned the mind and corrupted the morals of many a promising youth."

it is a reactionary narrative of societal degeneration with no basis in anything. yes, it is very funny that laywers have lost the bar for trusting chatgpt to cite cases for them. but if you think that chatgpt somehow prevented them from thinking critically about its output, you're accusing the tail of wagging the dog.

nobody who says shit like "oh wow chatgpt can write every novel and movie now. yiou can just ask chatgpt to give you opinions and ideas and then use them its so great" was, like, sitting in the symposium debating the nature of the sublime before chatgpt released. there is no 'decay', there is no 'decline'. you should be suspicious of those narratives wherever you see them, especially if you are inclined to agree!

plagiarizing human artists

nah. i've been over this ad infinitum--nothing 'AI art' does could be considered plagiarism without a definition so preposterously expansive that it would curtail huge swathes of human creative expression.

AI art models do not contain or reproduce any images. the result of them being trained on images is a very very complex statistical model that contains a lot of large-scale statistical data about all those images put together (and no data about any of those individual images).

to draw a very tortured comparison, imagine you had a great idea for how to make the next Great American Painting. you loaded up a big file of every norman rockwell painting, and you made a gigantic excel spreadsheet. in this spreadsheet you noticed how regularly elements recurred: in each cell you would have something like "naturalistic lighting" or "sexually unawakened farmers" and the % of times it appears in his paintings. from this, you then drew links between these cells--what % of paintings containing sexually unawakened farmers also contained naturalistic lighting? what % also contained a white guy?

then, if you told someone else with moderately competent skill at painting to use your excel spreadsheet to generate a Great American Painting, you would likely end up with something that is recognizably similar to a Norman Rockwell painting: but any charge of 'plagiarism' would be absolutely fucking absurd!

this is a gross oversimplification, of course, but it is much closer to how AI art works than the 'collage machine' description most people who are all het up about plagiarism talk about--and if it were a collage machine, it would still not be plagiarising because collages aren't plagiarism.

(for a better and smarter explanation of the process from soneone who actually understands it check out this great twitter thread by @reachartwork)

today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools

i mean, this is true! AI tools are definitely going to destroy livelihoods. they will increase productivty for skilled writers and artists who learn to use them, which will immiserate those jobs--they will outright replace a lot of artists and writers for whom quality is not actually important to the work they do (this has already essentially happened to the SEO slop website industry and is in the process of happening to stock images).

jobs in, for example, product support are being cut for chatgpt. and that sucks for everyone involved. but this isn't some unique evil of chatgpt or machine learning, this is just the effect that technological innovation has on industries under capitalism!

there are plenty of innovations that wiped out other job sectors overnight. the camera was disastrous for portrait artists. the spinning jenny was famously disastrous for the hand-textile workers from which the luddites drew their ranks. retail work was hit hard by self-checkout machines. this is the shape of every single innovation that can increase productivity, as marx explains in wage labour and capital:

“The greater division of labour enables one labourer to accomplish the work of five, 10, or 20 labourers; it therefore increases competition among the labourers fivefold, tenfold, or twentyfold. The labourers compete not only by selling themselves one cheaper than the other, but also by one doing the work of five, 10, or 20; and they are forced to compete in this manner by the division of labour, which is introduced and steadily improved by capital. Furthermore, to the same degree in which the division of labour increases, is the labour simplified. The special skill of the labourer becomes worthless. He becomes transformed into a simple monotonous force of production, with neither physical nor mental elasticity. His work becomes accessible to all; therefore competitors press upon him from all sides. Moreover, it must be remembered that the more simple, the more easily learned the work is, so much the less is its cost to production, the expense of its acquisition, and so much the lower must the wages sink – for, like the price of any other commodity, they are determined by the cost of production. Therefore, in the same manner in which labour becomes more unsatisfactory, more repulsive, do competition increase and wages decrease”

this is the process by which every technological advancement is used to increase the domination of the owning class over the working class. not due to some inherent flaw or malice of the technology itself, but due to the material realtions of production.

so again the overarching point is that none of this is uniquely symptomatic of AI art or whatever ever most recent technological innovation. it is symptomatic of capitalism. we remember the luddites primarily for failing and not accomplishing anything of meaning.

if you think it's bad that this new technology is being used with no consideration for the planet, for social good, for the flourishing of human beings, then i agree with you! but then your problem shouldn't be with the technology--it should be with the economic system under which its use is controlled and dictated by the bourgeoisie.

[oukabarsburgblr]

Work Ethics [Age Gap AU]

FEATURING : DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

The new intern took a liking to you, it went unnoticed by you, his boss sadly. However, he would prove how deep his admiration was when the both of you were drunk, alone in the building with the exception of his hard cock.

age gap, bit dubcon. not much plot just sex, profile

Find out more under the cut!

"Hnngg- f-fuck stop! Wait wait I'm gonna-"

(m/n) clasped his hand over his whimpering mouth, his hips bucking up while a stronger grip clawed on his waist, urging him to lay still on the wooden desk. He was squirming, his pants gone and his briefs dangling on his left ankle.

Daisuke hummed as he proceeded to swallow (m/n)'s load of cum in his mouth. He was on his knees, his hands holding (m/n) down while giving the latter a blowjob. "Did I do good, sir?"

The (h/c) could only mewl, his dick flaccid and slobbered with spit as Daisuke stood and climbed over him. Their dynamic was interesting, to others if they had noticed. (m/n) was head of department for his sector and Daisuke Yuichi was the new intern they had received.

Well, he wasn't just an intern. He was one of the shareholder's son so all treated him like royalty once he stepped foot in the company. (m/n) didn't care, treating him like he was any normal intern and there was the obvious age gap between them.

A good six years apart with Daisuke still in university with an internship as part of his education programme. He could've been 20 or 21. So why was someone like him messing around with (m/n) who was at the end of his twenties?

Daisuke probed his fingers into (m/n)'s mouth who screamed and gagged around his thick digits, knuckles brushing against his palate and poking his uvula. He coughed with his mouth full and the ravenette kissed him on his cheek.

"Am I better than any of those geezers? Their old bodies couldn't ever pleasure you...at least up to my standards."

The ravenette took his fingers out of the (h/c)'s mouth and trailed lower, reaching his crotch and (m/n) gripped his wrist when Daisuke poked his virgin hole. "Y-You brat- I never fucking touched there- anhh!"

"Really? I'm glad. I would be pretty sad if someone else had slammed their dick in there instead of me. I was born a bit too late hm?" Daisuke shoved a finger inside, stretching his rim and pistoned against his twitching walls.

(m/n) spread his legs wider, his hips stuttering as he moaned more, his veins coursing with unknown pleasure. His button-up rustled against the frame of the desk, his desk to be exact. The (h/c) was Daisuke's superior, HR had reached out to him, asking him to take special care of the new intern and (m/n) was annoyed and ignored it to say the least.

He didn't realise how much the intern admired him, how black eyes adorned into his mannerisms, his body language, the way (m/n) carried himself as a person. Adoring gaze lingered on the (h/c) whenever the department had a meeting and (m/n) was presenting his slides upfront.

How the (h/c)'s blazer would hike up every time he lifted his arms, his pants hugging his tight ass with those two back pockets mocking Daisuke with how the ravenette had wished how much he was those fabric instead...

It was a planned dinner for their department, Daisuke however had forgotten his USB drive that had documents he needed to finish up for the night and (m/n) offered to follow him along, saying he himself needed to retrieve a few things.

And when (m/n) thought Daisuke was heading for his cubicle, he in his tipsy state did not realise the ravenette had followed him into his office and pounced on him.

"Do you feel the same way as me, Mr. (l/n)? Is that why you offered to take me back here?" Daisuke had drunk a lot, his mind was much more intoxicated than (m/n)'s after he had gotten hazed by his seniors. His dick was hard and being alone with his hot crush didn't make it any better.

"What the-? Daisuke, what do you think you're doing??" (m/n) yelled, attempting to push the younger man away as the latter started to pepper kisses all over his neck. "I'm making love to you, sir. My boss is such a cool person." He kissed his the complaining man's forehead. "And cool people should fuck together."

Maybe (m/n) should keep up with the times, trying to relate more to younger people who's almost a decade apart but he couldn't understand how Daisuke's loose mouth easily spat. It was good around his dick too.

He tried to resist, pushing against the younger's strong rock hard body but he instantly melted when Daisuke pulled his pants down and shoved his open mouth, swallowing his hard penis.

Now he was bent over his own messy desk, his shirt ripped and his ass being pulled back and forth against Daisuke's crotch. Their bodies were hot and wet squelches rang from where their skin connected together. Hands around his waist tightened, fingers digging into his abdomen and he was sure a bruise would appear tomorrow.

"Aanh anh angg!" He never thought he would cry like a girl, like a woman would whenever he would sleep with the opposite gender. "You sound so good, (m/n). Your ass is so fucking thick too." Daisuke whispered into his ear, his fat chest pressing against the (h/c)'s shoulder blades as he continued humping into his boss, pounding his dick into the older man's once virgined asshole.

"C-Calm down- mmffhh! Y-You're too deep- nggh!" Did young people had this amount of energy? Or maybe it was (m/n)'s age catching up to him since he was getting tired of Daisuke's never-ending bunny fuck with him.

He cried out when the ravenette came inside, complaining about the lack of condoms and Daisuke bit his nape in return, asking him to be a good boss and let the younger one do all the work. Although the ravenette was putting in overtime as he came inside the (h/c) for the fifth time that night, (m/n) only twice for a bitchy reason.

Fat tears slipped down his lower lashes, drooping down his (s/c) cheeks as he struggled with his restrained arms above his head, Daisuke tying his wrists with his own tie when (m/n) started to complain and wanted to switch.

He was back laying on his desk, his nipples getting twisted by Daisuke's fingers whose face was flushed pink, his eyes half-lidded gazing down at his naked boss who was tied up under him, his wet dick still deep inside his cum-filled anus.

(m/n)'s cock was also tied up, a thin felt string Daisuke had snatched, carefully roping it around his tip. The textile scratched against his sensitive cock but the pressure wasn't letting him burst, precum spilling all over his base, leaking onto his crotch and abdomen.

"W-Wanna cum- mmff! I wan cum too- angg!" (m/n) mumbled, his face flushed as he flinched when Daisuke pressed his cock deep, squirting more of his cum inside his already full ass.

His stomach felt queasy, the high taking his body, the remains of his attire was ripped to pieces earlier and he had been denied of his orgasm ever since he mentioned wanting to top.

"Really? Boss wants to cum? (m/n) wants some cum?" The (h/c) irked, feeling degraded by the smirking ravenette who was usually nice and polite, except he was drunk and fucking his ass at 1 AM in the office.

He hesitatingly nodded, his head fuzzy and his hole spilling semen, dripping down his desk and onto his carpeted floor. "I want to hear it from your mouth. Your really cute fucking mouth." Daisuke peered, his dark eyes open focusing on the whimpering man beneath him, his lips stretching into a smile.

"I want to cum. Let me cum. I can't just- mfff I wanna cummm-" (m/n) whined and he never thought a noise like that would come out of his mouth. Daisuke lightly sucked in his cheeks, collecting his saliva in the middle of his tongue and his fingers pried (m/n)'s open. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue down to (m/n)'s, letting his drool drip into the (h/c)'s mouth.

The (h/c) had confused noises slipping out of his throat as he was forced to swallow Daisuke's spit. "Angh angg ngghh-" He mewled, struggling with the continous saliva flowing into his mouth by the excited ravenette.

Daisuke stopped, feeling satisfied seeing the panting and slobbering (h/c) as he leaned down once again. "Kiss me." (m/n) mumbled, hazy and drowsy as Daisuke further edged him. "Kiss me and I'll pull it off." His finger pinched the edge of the string and (m/n) frowned, annoyed at this young man's bold behaviour.

"Anhh-" He propped himself up with his elbows, (m/n) sticking out his tongue to reach the ravenette who teased him by slowly inching away. But the (h/c) grabbed his jaw and slammed his mouth on his lips, his tongue sloppily pressing against Daisuke's.

The younger was definitely better at fucking but (m/n) had the upper hand in kissing. Daisuke melted, moaning in his mouth as he desperately hugged his boss close, his eyes rolling behind while his cock rubbed against his slipping hole.

(m/n) tilted his head, angling his lips as he slipped in his tongue into Daisuke's mouth, the latter teasingly pulled off the string and clenched his tip tight. The (h/c) hissed as he started to lap at his wet muscle, making out with the younger ravenette.

Their faces were flushed, alcohol still lingering in their system, especially Daisuke whose cheeks had a nice pink hue. (m/n)'s heart was beating in his chest, his cock was gripped by the ravenette twitched and threathened to burst as he bucked his hips up, wanting release.

"Mmff- angh! Call me Yuichi first- mmn!" (m/n) pulled away from the messy make-out, his lips slick with spit and he furrowed his eyebrows. "Yuichi?" "Daisuke is a family name. I'm the one up your ass moments ago, not my whole lineage. Unless-?"

His cheek was firmly slapped, (m/n) frowning annoyed his release denied as he jutted a finger in his face. "Behave." "...Yes, sir." Yuichi smirked, licking his lips. The slap wasn't strong, but it was enough to awaken the ravenette who started to jack him off.

The (h/c) gritted his teeth, clenching his eyes shut as he squirmed under the mercy of the ravenette who was estatic to see his boss submit under him. "Y-Yuichi..." (m/n) breathily spoke as he wrapped his arms around ravenette's ears.

Yuichi's cock immediately sprang up, his hands pulling the (h/c) off the table as he sat on a nearby ergonomic chair, (m/n) on his lap. The ravenette bit his neck, leaving a mark on the skin as he slammed (m/n) onto his cock, the latter yelping and instantly came.

Ropes of cum spilled from his tip, his eyes continued to dwell tears as he yelled at Yuichi for bouncing him on his cock while he was cumming, his orgasm rode out for so long, a good 20 seconds. His hole could barely fit anything, wet and slobbering. The rim was strained, being pounded by Yuichi's long cock for so long as (m/n) felt like he was going to cum again.

"Aanhh angg mmhh! Fuck fuck- khh mmnh!" Curses and whimpers spilled from his lips as he tightened around Yuichi, the latter pulling him into a kiss as he stilled himself balls deep inside the (h/c) while cumming for the nth time that night. (m/n) held onto the ravenette with his still restrained arms around neck as he squirted onto Yuichi's stomach, his watery cum coating his abs as the ravenette continued to face fuck his boss.

It was a blur after that, he wasn't sure where he ended up but he woke up in an unknown apartment, Yuichi hugging him while sleeping. The ravenette took him to his home, a very expensive home at that after their drunken affair and the younger one kept pestering the boss.

"You like me now, right sir? We can date outside the office." (m/n) rolled his eyes, whacking a document on Yuichi's forehead as he pulled the hands off that was tugging on his vest. "Finish the e-memo and I'll talk to you, Yuichi."

It may seem that the boss was still as cold towards the intern, but the fact that he's using his given name was a sign of endearment. Older men really had it different, huh?

Yuichi was ecstatic as he sneaked into (m/n)'s office whenever it was past closing hours, the latter having to stay back for numerous reasons. One of them to entertain his intern.

Although he never let Yuichi sleep with him in his office again, praying that the poor cleaner wouldn't ask who he had brought in during the late night a few days ago.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

i need to STOP putting daisuke in office settings...he's just perfect for it. a nepo baby taking a liking to u HAHAHHAHA ME WAN JADIKHHIGSAHJK; anywyas im so stressed out recently. but the worst part's over so i gotta suck it up argh.

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A RESPONSE TO AN INBOX BUT I GOT HORNY SO I WROTE A DAMN FIC INSTEAD 😭😭

I wrote this in like two hours w sleep in between. Hence, the lack of like good stuff sorry.

comment for more!

Edit : i did not implement the dynamic a younger top and older bottom is supposed to have...forgive me. I wrote this at 3am. Expect a drabble soon

Taglist :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo

[odinsblog]

“I'm observing such a huge gap between different social groups that I didn't even realize were different. I, you know, most of my friends are in the media. A lot of my journalist friends are just much better informed.

A lot of them have had experience reporting in Israel, Palestine, and are quite critical of both Israel and the antisemitism narrative. Then, like, my wife is a lawyer, and her circle is a little bit different, right? It's not dominated by media people, like people in the law or in other professions seem to be broadly much more kind of taken by the sense of profound insecurity and shift in the American Jewish experience.

I think we sort of see different things, for example, when we watch the hearings in Congress on antisemitism on campus.

The university presidents, of which there have now been two hearings, one with three presidents, one with the president of Colombia, and there will be many, many more. And what I see is a right-wing campaign against higher education that is weaponizing antisemitism as an idea, right? Not antisemitism as a practice.

And what they see is, with the possible exception of the president of Colombia, is people who represent institutions or lead institutions that they feel an affinity with, often institutions that they graduated from, who are not standing up for them. Which I find that viewing of those hearings somewhat shocking because people seem to be turning off their critical faculties. But people, intelligent, educated, politically astute people don't turn off their critical faculties unless they're scared.

So I think the underlying fear is real. But just because it's real, it doesn't mean it's justified.

I think a factual account of what we're seeing on campuses now is that this generation of Americans is far more critical of Israel than their parents' generation. And this is true of both Jews and non-Jews. I think that they look at information available to them and they see a 57-year brutal illegal occupation.

And they don't understand how it's possible that their parents and the politicians that their parents support and the politicians who come and give commencement addresses and all that other stuff that I can say about politicians, how it is possible that these people support that state? I think that is an entirely understandable view. It also reflects a huge generation gap.

I think some of those young people are assholes, and some of them are antisemites. I think it's a small minority of the protesters, and it is not actually part of the critique. The protesters' demands, the protesters' organizing beliefs are not in any way or shape antisemitic.

And then there are Jewish students who were brought up Zionist, who were brought up to identify strongly with the state of Israel, who are, I think, a little bit like my cousin in the settlements again. They see these protests, and even probably the participation of their fellow Jewish students in these protests, as threatening their core identity, as threatening their ties to their families, as threatening everything that they were taught for the first 18 years of their lives is true. And of course they feel rattled, of course they feel unsettled, of course they feel threatened.

Like, wouldn't you, if you felt that everything you had believed in was being turned on its head, and if you, by apparently reasonable people? And so you have a couple of options. One is to look at what the protestors are saying, to engage with the facts, to engage with the critique of everything you've ever believed.

There was a terrific, George Curran's podcast a couple of weeks ago with three Columbia students, one of whom sort of narrated that kind of trajectory, getting to university and finding this stuff out and having their mind blown. That's a very difficult path, and it's a very difficult path, especially if you are, say, a first year student in 23, 24.

And then there's the easier path of staying integrated in your community, in your beliefs, and saying this is antisemitic.

Because unfortunately the things that the protestors are talking about are so horrible that you can't say, okay, let's agree to disagree, that you can't hold both of these things in your mind at the same time.

You can't continue to hold your family's uncritical, long-standing support of Israel, and an understanding of what is happening in Gaza and the occupation that has preceded the war in Gaza.

So yeah, of course they feel rattled. That doesn't mean that they're being surrounded by antisemitism.”

—Masha Gessen, the descendant of Holocaust survivors, discusses campus protests (part 3 of 3)

[cripplecharacters]

Media Representation and Writing Characters with Facial Differences

[Large Text: Media Representation and Writing Characters with Facial Differences]

A writing (?) guide (?) consisting of an explanation of what facial differences are, some basics about the community of people with facial differences, a terminology guide that is extremely subjective, a very long explanation of the real-life effects of misrepresentation of facial differences, a subjective guide on why most tropes surrounding facial differences are awful and unoriginal, and the part that people actually want to see (I hope at least) AKA "types of characters I do actually want to see". As always, this post is meant for people who have no experience with the subject, and not in any way an attempt to tell writers with facial differences on what to do in their own writing.

What Does "Facial Difference" Mean?

[Large Text: What Does "Facial Difference" Mean?]

"Facial Difference" (FD for short) is an umbrella term for any kind of scar, mark, or condition that makes your face visibly different. This encompasses anything from not having parts of the face or having less of them (e.g. anophthalmia, anotia, hemifacial microsomia), having "more" to the face (e.g. tumors, neurofibromatosis), conditions affecting how the face moves (e.g. facial paralysis, ptosis, cranial nerve diseases), ocular differences (e.g. hypertelorism, nystagmus, strabismus), conditions affecting the colors of the face (e.g. rosacea, vitiligo, pigmentation conditions in general), a "look" that signals a specific disability (e.g. Down Syndrome) and approximately a million more things - scars, burn marks, craniofacial conditions, ichthyosis, cancers, and a lot more.

Despite popular opinion (popular ignorance would be more accurate because no one knows about it in the first place but opinion sounds better-) people with Facial Differences have both a movement (Face Equality) and a specific word for the oppression we experience (Disfiguremisia). There is even the Face Equality Week that happens every year in May! This is a real thing that has been happening, and we are generally going unnoticed, even in the "representation matters" circles, the body positivity movement, disability spaces, and so on. There is an alliance of organizations dedicated to this called Face Equality International, who can help you learn about the real-world community and movement! They even have sections specifically about media representation, which is foreshadowing for how important this topic is to the community and for how long the "explaining the issues of representation" part of this post is.

And of course, if you have a facial difference/disfigurement, you can do whatever the hell you want when writing! Call your characters how you call yourself, subvert the tropes you want. I don't want to preach to people who already know all of this firsthand. This post is meant to explain some things to people who don't have experience with having FD.

Terminology

[Large Text: Terminology]

There is a lot of words to describe people with FD. Some of them are alright, most of them are awful.

Please keep in mind that all of these terms (maybe except for the... last one...) are used by real life people. This isn't me saying "you can't say that about yourself" (more power to you!) but rather to educate able-bodied people that some words they refer to use with aren't as neutral as they think (at least not to everyone).

"[person] with a facial difference" - generally the most polite and widely accepted way to refer to us. That's what is generally used in the Face Equality movement, sometimes alongside the next term which is...

"[person] who has a disfigurement" - an alright term that is sometimes used interchangeably with the one above. However, most things that involves the term "disfigurement" to me sound kinda medicalized and/or like lawyer speech. It's not offensive, but just generally used in more official ways etc. Has the potential to make you sound like a medical report or a legislature sometimes. lol.

"A disfigured [person]" - starting to steer into the "uhh" territory. Describing a whole person as disfigured is, to me, just plain weird. I get that some communities push for the identity first language, but this just isn't it most of the time. Could be way worse, could be slightly better.

"[person] who has a deformity" - "deformity" is such a negatively charged word that I don't understand how people (without FD) still use it thinking it's neutral. This sounds awkwardly medicalized in a "case study from the 80s" way which is definitely not a good thing.

"A deformed [person]" - pretty much the jackpot of bad terminology, the term deformed, the calling of an entire person by it, it has everything I hate about writers describing people like me. The only one that I think is even more awful is...

"Horribly/gnarly/nasty/monstrous deformity/scar/[name of the specific condition]" - again, I'm impressed by what some people think is neutral wording. If you're searching a thesaurus for synonyms of "scary" to describe your character, I think it's time to just stop writing them. This is about using ableist terminology, sure, but I just can't imagine that someone calling their character that actually will represent FD well. It shows the negative bias and attitude of the writer.

However, there is also one pretty awesome and simple way to describe them!

Say what they have specifically. Really. Assuming you know what condition your character has (which... you should) it should be very easy. "She has Treacher-Collins Syndrome." "Xyr forehead has a port wine stain on it." "They can't fully open one of their eyes." It's clear and lets your readers know what you mean. You don't always have to throw around euphemisms to describe someone not having a nose.

Tropes and Current State of Representation

[Large Text: Tropes and Current State of Representation]

If you have read basically any of my previous posts about FD then you probably know what I'm about to say in this section. Still worth a read though? I hope. Warning that this is long, but you probably expected that already.

One thing I will note at the start is that I'm aware that a lot of writers were already turned off from this post just because of the terminology section. I know that artists love describing people like me as ugly deformed monsters! It's literally a tale as old as antiquity, and that's how overdone and stale it is. Visibly disabled = ugly. I get it, I heard it a thousand times before, I hear it majority of the time someone is excited to tell me about how horrible and gross their OC's scar is. But now some guy (me) from that group is telling you to like, maybe stop calling your disgustingly deformed character that!

I want to make it very clear that FD representation in media is not treated like a real thing that's worth anyone's time, even by the most "representation is so important!" writers. I guess it's too inconvenient to unpack the amount of baggage and uncomfortable implications this would cause. It's too good of a device in writing; everyone knows that if a guy with a scar shows up that it means he's evil, the easiest way to make a villain visually interesting is to make them a burn survivor, and if you need a tragic backstory for a serial killer just give them a congenital disability that caused literally everyone in the world to treat them horribly, so of course they started killing people. It's such a good moral signifier that literally every book and tale has done - pretty is good, ugly is bad. Dichotomy is so helpful. What is less helpful in the real world is that what is considered "ugly" is generally very tightly bound to what visibly disabled people look like. Ugly Laws weren't just like, coincidentally including disabled people and disability activists aren't still forced to speak out against being put in those "Ugliest People" lists by accident. This is all to say that facial differences are considered to be "ugly" completely uncontested, and you probably have this bias too, as the vast majority of people do. The whole "the character is ugly, then they become evil, if they're evil, they become ugly"... you need to be conscious to not do that. Don't make them evil if they're visibly disabled because it will always end up being the same old trope, no matter how many weird excuses and in-universe explanations you give. I want to put it in people's heads that you are writing about a community of people who are technically visible in real life, but have no large voices that the general public would listen to when it comes to how we are seen. The general public relies on media to tell them that.

Putting people with FD in your books or your art seems to suddenly be intimidating for a lot of artists when they realize that not only is facial difference a real thing, but people who have it can see what you write or draw (and your other readers will take some things out of what you write, subconsciously). When an author is faced with the fact that maybe they are doing harm with their writing, they either: suddenly don't want to do that anymore at all, or say: "I don't care! I'm going to be very innovative and make my very evil OC be deformed!" which is kinda funny to me that people actually seem to think it's edgy and cool to repeat the most tired Hollywood tropes but that's the best we can get I guess lol...

The attitudes that people have around the topic of facial difference and the whole "media impacts reality" are very interesting to me in general. On one hand, when I tell someone that I was bullied or ostracized because of my disabilities, no one is ever surprised. On the other hand, everyone is for some reason uncomfortable when I say that this doesn't just... appear out of thin air. People are taught from childhood that facial differences and the people who have them are scary, untrustworthy, or literal monsters. Media is a major factor in that. Like, looking back at it, it makes sense that my parents told me not to stare at other kids because they would get scared. After all, I looked like a kindergarten version of the bad guy from some kid's book. Other kids were able-bodied and looked like the good guy, I was visibly disabled and looked like the bad guy. That's the lesson kids get from media on how people with visible disabilities are: evil, scary, not to be interacted with. So they avoided me because of that while I had adults telling me to not even look in their direction. Dichotomy is so helpful, right?

And this doesn't magically stop at children. When I post a self-portrait or a selfie, I usually deal with multiple grown people comparing me to sometimes an animal, usually a specific character from a movie, sometimes even making my face into a meme right away. But if people don't generally see people with facial differences on the daily, then how are there so many specific reactions and so many similar problems that we go through? If it's so rare, then how are people so quick to tell me the character I remind them the most of- Yeah, media. It's always media. It's almost funny how everything circles back to one thing.

I want you, the author, to understand the impact of misrepresentation of facial difference. If you feel uncomfortable because you have done these tropes before, good! That's a sign of growth. If you want to help instead of harm, you need to get over your (subconscious) biases for a minute and think about how a person with the same condition as your character would feel like reading about them. Maybe you are even currently realizing that that one OC with scars is just five harmful tropes glued together. Maybe you are going to reblog this and tell me in the tags that somehow your character decided to be like that, as if they have free will instead of being written by a biased human being. Or, as I said earlier, a lot of people will be annoyed by this post and keep doing their thing. Which is like... whatever, I guess ?? There are a dozen huge movies and TV shows every year that do this. It's so basic and normalized that whatever reach this post will have will change very little. I have been signaled "we don't care what you think about how we portray people like you" my entire life, I'm frankly more surprised when people do actually claim to care. You can, practically speaking, do whatever because the FD community is fully ignored by uh, everyone, and even if I'm disappointed or annoyed I'm just one man and I know (from experience) that most people won't have my back on this topic. It's too ingrained in our culture at this point to challenge it, I suppose. I mean, there have been multiple media campaigns telling writers to treat us as people, and they had practically zero impact on the writing community. But even with my absurdly pessimistic view on this subject, I still decided to write all this. Sure, there are no signs of the industry changing and the writing community doesn't seem to care much, but I still naively hope that maybe the right person will read this and at some point in the future I will be watching or reading about a character that looks like me and actually have a good time, and even more naively that maybe people will gain some amount of awareness of the damage that has been and still is happening to people with FD through media, so that the next time they see that the villain has facial scars for no reason they will think "damn, this sucks" the same way I do. And very, very naively, I hope that people who read this will start seeing us as people. Not villains, not plot devices, not monsters.

Sad part over(?), now the fun(?) part. AKA the tropes! Yay.

"Dramatic Reveal of The Deformity".

Use of the word "deformity" very much on purpose here. This is arguably the most common trope when it comes to FD, and it's always awful. At the very best it links FD with trauma and talks in a Very Sad Voice about how having a FD is the worst thing imaginable, I guess (think a "X did this to me... now I'm Deformed For Life..." type of scene) and at worst it does the classic revealing that the main villain actually was a burn survivor under his mask, because of course he was. In media, people with FD are evil. If they're not, then it's because someone very evil did it to them (the most evil thing of all - causing someone to have a facial difference. the horror!). It can't be a thing unrelated to someone's morality, there's gotta be evil somewhere around it. There is literally nothing good about this trope. Showing FD as something to hide? Check. Dramatizing FD? Check. Placing the way someone's face looks as the worst thing possible? Check. General treating FD as some kind of circus attraction to stare at with your mouth open? Check!

"Wearing a Mask*."

I made a whole post about this one actually, that's how much it annoys me. Putting your character with FD in a mask is so overdone, lazy, and boring I'm not even offended as much as I thought I would. It's like... really? Again? For the millionth time, the character with FD is forced to hide their disability? Is the author scared..? What is the point of giving your character a visible difference if all you're doing is hiding it? And yes, I know that your character chose to do that for reasons that you as a writer somehow can't control. It's always so strange how it's the character that's in control and the writer is in the passenger seat when it comes to annoying tropes.

Found yourself already waist-deep into this trope? Take a look at this post I made.

*"mask" here refers to anything that covers the character's facial difference (e.g. eye covering, surgical mask, whatever. It's about hiding it and not a technical definition of "what is a mask").

"Good Guy has the Tiniest Scar You Can Imagine, but Don't Worry! The Villain is Deformed As Hell."

A genre on its own. In the rare instance that a positive character has a facial difference, they have a curiously limited choice - you can have:

the thinnest, definitely-very-realistic straight line going through the eye (the eye is always either perfectly okay or milky for reasons the author couldn't tell you),

the same exact line but going horizontally across the nose,

and if you're feeling spicy you can put it around the mouth,

regardless of location, just make sure it doesn't look like an actual scar (certainly not a keloid or hypertrophic one) and is instead a straight line done with a red or white crayon. Interestingly, villains have unlocked more options which stem from scars, craniofacial conditions, burn marks, cleft lips, ptosis, colobomas, anisocoria, tumors, facial paralysis, to pretty much everything that's not infantilized, like Down Syndrome. These are always either realistic or extremely bloody. I sound like a broken record by now, but no, your morality has nothing to do with your physical appearance and being evil doesn't make a visible disability get more visible. Shocker. And don't get me started on...

"The Villain turned Evil Because They Have Scars."

Ah, how nice. Disabled people are evil because they're disabled, truly a timeless classic for able-bodied writers whose worst fear in life is being disabled. In case that needs to be said, having a facial difference doesn't turn you evil, doesn't make you become a serial killer, doesn't make you violent, doesn't turn you into an assassin with a tragic backstory seeking revenge for ruining their life. If anything, having a FD makes it more likely for other people to be violent towards you. Speaking from experience.

"The Villain Just Has Scars."

An impressive attempt at cutting out the middleman of "clumsily and definitely not ableist-icly explaining why getting a scar made them evil" and not even bothering with a tragic backstory or anything. They are evil, so of course they have a facial difference. What were you thinking?

"Facial Difference is a Plot Point."

As anyone who's read like A Book will tell you, the only way to get a facial difference is to be in a very dramatic fight or an extremely tragic accident who will become a plot point and thus the facial difference is now Heavily Emotionally Charged and a symbol of The Event/The Tragedy. If you look at media, congenital FD isn't a thing, illness-related FD doesn't exist and boring domestic accident or a fall causing FD has never been seen. It has to be dramatic and tragic or else there's no point in them having it. A true "why are they [minority]" moment, if you will.

"Character gets a FD but then Gets Magically Cured Because They're Good."

Truly one of the tropes that make me want to rip my hair out. Curing your character with FD sucks just as much as curing a disabled or neurodivergent character. Who is this even for? That's not how real life works. This is some actual Bible shit, that's how old this trope is. The only thing you're doing here is making people think that those who do have FD just aren't "good enough". Every time I see it, I wonder what the author would think of the congenital disorder I have. According to this kind of in-universe rules, was I born evil and just never got good? or ??

"Character with FD has Self-Esteem Issues and Hates Their Face."

I admittedly mocked all the previous tropes because they're absurd, ridiculous, offensive, boring, all of the above, and have zero basis in reality. This one however... ouch, right in my own tragic backstory. This is unfortunately a very real experience that a lot of people with FD go through. I even have a hunch there wouldn't be as many if the general public didn't think of us as monsters, but I digress. Yes, a lot of us have or had self-esteem problems, and a lot of us wished that we wouldn't have to go through all the BS we were put through because of it. Thankfully for you, you don't have to write about it! Seriously. You don't need to. As one million people have said before me, "maybe don't write about things you haven't experienced" and I agree here. I have yet to see an able-bodied author get anything about this right. Instead of the deeply personal, complex experience that involves both you, everything around you and the very perception of what others think of you that this is, somehow writers keep giving the tired "character crying and sobbing because they're "ugly" now", because the author thinks we're ugly. Or maybe they're sad because all the other characters with facial differences are evil, and they didn't have the time to prepare their evil monologue for when they inevitably become evil in the sequel? Who knows.

"The Author Doesn't Know."

I'm not sure if a trope can be the lack of something like this, but the author not knowing what their character actually has going on medically is common to a ridiculous extent - this applies to all kinds of disabled characters as well. You don't need to name-drop the Latin term for whatever your character has, but you need know what it is behind the scenes. You need to know the symptoms. You need to know the onset and the treatment or lack of it. Please do your medical research.

Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Facial Differences

[Large Text: Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Facial Differences]

The thing you might have noticed is that I want Facial Differences and People with Facial Differences to be presented as normal. Not killers, not SCP anomaly whatever, not monsters. I'm aware that the term is tired, but I absolutely want Facial Differences normalized as much as possible.

I want to see more characters with facial differences...

who have friends that don't bully or make fun of them because of their appearance.

who have support from their family.

who know other people with facial differences - even if they're just background characters, or mentioned in passing. Marginalized people tend to gravitate towards each other, people with FD aren't an exception to this.

who are queer.

who aren't only skinny white cis dudes in general.

who are disabled in other ways! A lot of us are Blind, Deaf, both, unable to speak, intellectually disabled, having issues with mobility, and a million other comorbidities.

who are fantastical in some way - preferably not the "secretly a monster" way. But a mermaid with CdLS or an elf with neurofibromatosis? That's cool as hell.

who are allowed to be cute or fashionable.

who have jobs that aren't "stereotypical bad evil guy jobs". Give me a retail worker with a cleft lip or a chef with Down Syndrome!

who are reoccurring characters that just happen to have a FD.

who are those stock/generic characters that aren't typically associated with FD. Hero's mom has septicemia scars? Cool! The popular cheerleader at school has alopecia? Awesome! The bartender of the place the heroes secretly meet up at has Möbius Syndrome? Goes hard! The kid that the MC used to hang out with before they moved somewhere else has Crouzon Syndrome? Great!

who have their FD be visible.

who aren't ashamed of their FD.

who are feeling very neutral about their face.

who are proud of how they look.

who got their FD in a very boring way or were just born with it (and maybe make up very silly, obviously not real ways of how it happened when annoying people ask them. Think "oh, I was fighting a shark").

who have facial differences other than small scars.

who's angst is fully unrelated to their FD. I love me an angsty teen character! Even more if they are angsty about their crush, or basically anything that's not their disability.

who have a significant other who doesn't do the whole "I love you despite your looks" thing. It just kinda sucks. Sorry. I would hate if someone said this to me.

who are children and aren't implied to be "cursed" or "demonic".

in genres that aren't just horror or thriller. RomCom or slice of life, anyone?

who aren't evil.

I want to see stories with multiple characters with facial differences. I have nerve damage and facial asymmetry, and I am friends or mutuals with people with Williams Syndrome, Bell's palsy, Down Syndrome, neurofibromatosis, facial atrophy, ptosis... and a lot of other things. Your character would have (or, would probably want) some connection to their community. We aren't rare!

And, I want stories with the whole spectrum of facial differences shown. Of course you can't represent the whole spectrum, but you can still aim for at least a few. Don't give every single character with FD the same scar-through-eye + eyepatch combo. It's not unrealistic to have a range in your writing. Here is a list of facial differences you might want to check out for inspiration. Don't be scared to give them something rare - no matter how uncommon, people still have it. My specific condition is allegedly extremely rare - I still want representation!

Closing Remarks

[Large Text: Closing Remarks]

Facial difference and the media is a topic that plagued me for the past almost two decades and won't stop ever, I think. It's a very unique relationship of a group of people who just aren't allowed to get into the industry and an industry that clearly hates them, loves to use their image, and defines how people see them all at once. There's this almost overrepresentation that is consistently awful and damaging to an absurd degree. Most people know more villains with FD than actual people. Certainly doesn't feel great to be one of the aforementioned actual peoples. But I hope that this will change - the negative portrayals that are plaguing the FD community will slowly fade out and a newer wave of portrayals will come in, hopefully this time realizing that we are real people and care about us a bit more.

The thing with facial difference is that it's pretty much impossible to make a specific guide of what it's like and what to do in context of writing because it's an incredible vast category that includes conditions that are very different from each other. That's why this post was more focused on "why you should care in the first place" (sorry for the clickbait) rather than being a straightforward guide that would still be very lacking even if 20 different people were collaborating on it. I really, really encourage everyone who got through this rather long post to do their research on what they plan to write about, be conscious of their own biases, don't pull inspiration from movies because they're all hellholes full of tropes and just sit down for a minute, think of the real-world people with facial differences, and read what we have to say. I know that drawing a guy with a line across his eye is more fun than realizing you're low-key scared of or uncomfortable around the real-world equivalent, but sometimes you have to get over yourself and try to be a better person. Caring about the people you write about is, dare I say, essential. That will certainly make your writing of us better :-) (smiley face with a nose)

If you have any specific questions, feel free to send an ask

Mod Sasza

[atlaswav]

EMPYREAN ☾

INFO: 4385 words, dr ratio x gn!reader, college au SYNOPSIS: Art is the practice of capturing life in still motion, and yet Dr Ratio can never seem to capture your beauty in its entirety in his sketches. His waking thoughts are clouded by images of you, the bane of his existence. He hates it, but can't resist. The Gods - if there are any - are cruel. WARNINGS: none! for once! except attempted kiss. AUTHOR'S NOTE: my head hurts so bad rn and i need sleep but there were thoughts in my mind. also i think its really boring lowkey but hey! i said i'd publish something by sunday! also i think his characterisation is really off today but oh well.

Divinity wasn’t real. There were no real Gods, they didn’t exist – couldn’t. Science proved such. Miracles were situations of insurmountable luck, and no one’s fate was “ordained” like astrology maniacs liked to think. 

But when Icarus fell from the great skies of myth, reaching for the sun and Gods and the heavens beyond, Veritas Ratio was sure that the gnawing terror and morbid awe that seized that man at the sight below was familiar to him. That sprawling city touched by the sublime sun, smiled upon with the benevolent God peering through the clouds whose gaze melted fragile wax. 

He was sure that that fear and unprecedented awe was the same as when he first glimpsed you. 

His fall, however, wasn’t graceful or worthy of any legend. 

“Oh– you alright?” 

“My apologies, I–” he glanced up, leaning down to immediately pick up his sketchbook which had fallen to the ground, then he froze. 

“...Are you okay?”

This, he wasn’t certain. You helped him gather his supplies again, and he thought he’d never see you again – there were so many buildings and so many classes, why would he? But as if fate was stringing him along, he wound up sitting next to you for his art studies class. The class he convinced himself he needed to take for a proper education.

Icarus’ fall was met with swift demise, and he was so sure that he would too. But who was he to compare himself to legends? Even still, why else would he be stricken by the malady of your existence, if you weren’t some overwhelming beauty that his greed desired to capture? 

Art, however, could not capture life as any man would like. It could never catch the way light reflected in the eyes, illuminating the soul. Neither the delicate intricacies of a smile, a twitch of muscle, a beating of a butterfly’s wings, the delicacy of life.

Try as one might, however, Dr Ratio aimed to do this, anyway. Charcoal was his chosen medium, pervading clean paper, marking intent, focus and desperation. 

He remembered you casting him a smile before seating yourself beside him, and all his doubts in taking the art course dissipated from his mind – despite your literal run in moments before. 

You became immersed in the artwork at your fingertips as the professor chirped about something he should’ve probably been attentive to, but to him, it was now entirely meaningless. Your cheeks lifted when you smiled, creasing the corners of your eyes. Your hair fell over your face in graceful lines that framed your features, and your hands moved with such gentle dexterity that he yearned to capture them in his drawings. Your eyes narrowed in the slightest as your brush met the canvas, mouth agape with your fixation on your art. 

The charcoal snapped, and Veritas Ratio likewise snapped from his immersion, frowning at the dark lines that marred the page. 

In his sketch, your eyes were obscured by a wall of smudged black ash instead of the curtain of hair that covered your features. Ratio sighed, leaning back from the desk. Your eyes were now downcast on your palette as you mixed paints. 

There was a divinity in you that he yearned to capture, like sunlight in a jar. Futile, but with noble intention, he swore to himself. 

Then, there were more classes. More days that passed, more instances where he observed your habits, your artwork that had you enrapt, just as he imagined his own perverse captivation with you. There were more charcoal sketches in sketchbooks that never saw the light of day, ones where your smile was too wide, didn’t meet your eyes, or didn’t carry the exact expression that yours projected. 

Art could never imitate life – Veritas was simply mortal. But mortals could always dream of something divine.

There were times where he left the classroom for a moment, and he feared you might glance over at his sketchbook to see the hundreds of sketches of yourself. Smiling and frowning and focused, the end of your paintbrush sitting absently between your lips, your gaze cast to the side, small splatters of paint smudged under your eyes and on your fingers. It was unsettling. He knew it himself. There had to be an extent to his observation when it became invasive, yet he feared losing your presence without ever capturing it in still motion. 

This is when a man grows desperate. 

“May I draw you?”

“...draw me?” you glanced towards him, reluctantly tearing your gaze from your own work. “Why?”

“A study.”

You smiled a half smile. An expression that he was familiar with, given that you were already halfway through the semester. Still, there was nothing to your encounters but smiles of courtesy and niceties (he’d never admit that he so desired more).

“Sure. Show it to me later.”

Now, Dr Ratio discovers, there are few things that may disturb a man’s endeavours when he is enrapt in his studies. None of which affected Veritas in the slightest as his charcoal became dust on his fingers and he clicked his tongue at the material’s reluctance to bend at his will. 

None of which can successfully capture the being that is you, and he isn’t sure he wants to, anymore. Art isn’t made for the eyes of greed, it’s made for the soul that yearns for the cure of the senses. Or so the greats all say, but he thinks he cannot be one of them. He couldn’t imitate life, he was versed in the calculations of life instead. 

Caught in his thoughts, he taps his – new – stick of charcoal on the edge of the drawing pad, frowning at the new sketch he was pondering. 

“You’re really good.” your voice echoes from behind him. 

He turns abruptly to find you standing behind him, head tilted as you examine his sketches. Your nose scrunches the tiniest bit, and your eyes crinkle with a hint of mirth.

“Does my nose really look like that?”

“Of course.”

You laugh at his blunt reply. “Can I see your other drawings?”

There are over seven thousand languages that still exist in the world, and Veritas Ratio cannot think of a better, more dire way to say no than to agree completely. 

“Of course.” He flips through his sketchbook quietly, letting you glimpse his insanity. You were making him lose his mind, really. He watches your expression – how your eyes widen, your lips part, your brows furrow. 

“Did you do all of this since the last lesson?”

No, but he wouldn’t say that – 

“No, I've been studying you for a while.”

– Or maybe he would. 

Your laugh is another divine thing that he wishes he can capture. “Oh God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. You make a good muse.” 

“Do I?”

He nods, biting his tongue. He doesn’t want to incriminate himself any further than he already has, and he’s already become a stalker to you. 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes. Undoubtedly.” 

“Consider me flattered, then…” 

“Dr Ratio. Veritas. Veritas Ratio.”

“...Veritas.” 

He loves the way your lips mouth his name. He’d never say it to your face, though. This, at least, would die with him. 

“Well, thank you. You may return to your painting.”

You huff a laugh. “So formal. I’m nearly done, so I don’t really have anything urgent to worry about. Meanwhile you…”

He’s inclined to agree. The professor was checking everyone’s progress the next lesson, and he still hadn’t grasped what he thought to have been perfect. 

“Ah. Right.”

“Do you want me to like… pose for you or something?”

He hesitates. Why? He doesn’t know. Maybe something about morality and art and the truth, but he doesn’t care anymore. “That… would be ideal.”

“Alright, but you’ll owe me as well. Deal?”

This is how Veritas Ratio finds himself pacing his apartment, fixing his hair in the mirror, dusting the tops of the bookshelves that line the walls and polishing the kitchen counter so that each surface is devoid of any evidence of his own guilty conscience. 

His anxieties were immediately multiplied hundredfold when you knocked. He waited a couple of seconds – to not seem too desperate, with his heart racing out of his chest – then finally opened the door. 

You stood there, smiling with such casual ease that he found himself wanting to know everything about you. 

It was absurd. 

A tiny, suppressed part of him welcomed it. 

“Hey, Veritas,” 

There it was again, the unfamiliar way you said his name, smile widening. He decided against a verbal reply, instead nodding and guiding you into his living room. 

“You’re so… clean.” you glanced about the apartment, marvelling at how almost every surface had a shine to it. But it made sense, once you saw him sitting at the couch, already observing you with the unshakeable gaze you’d felt since that first class. 

You weren’t entirely oblivious to his stare, just as you weren’t unobservant with the way his cheeks dusted with pink the day before – and today, it seemed – as he made eye contact. 

You smiled, and watched him blink a couple of times before turning away with a cleared throat. 

“Yes. I can’t stand a mess of any sort.”

“Figured.” you shrugged, standing next to him. “So, where do you want to start? What should I do?”

He hesitated for a second before directing you to the armchair across from him. “Just sit there for now. We’ll start here.”

You complied, allowing him to hurriedly arrange the folds of your clothes and angle of your limbs with fleeting touches. 

He appeared nervous, but it was endearing. 

Minutes pass by in silence, faint scratching of charcoal on paper filling the space between you. The sunset’s light poured in through the balcony behind you, casting a dramatic shadow over the armchair. Purple, orange, yellow – you wondered if that scrutinising look he gave you was disapproval or awe. There was no way of telling, with his complex set of facial-expressions. 

But interpreting him through guesses wasn’t how you envisioned this would play out. 

You cleared your throat, but he didn't glance up. He held the sketchbook up next to you, but quickly returned to the page, making harsh lines across the page. 

“So… Veritas?”

His head snapped up, stray strands of violet hair splayed across his forehead. “Yes?”

“Why did you take art?”

His eyes narrowed on you. Examining, maybe. “I felt as if I needed to. For a well rounded study, of course.”

You laughed. “Of course you did.”

At this, he paused. “What do you mean by this?”

“Your reputation on campus. You have… what, four degrees? You’re famous.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, never putting down the charcoal, but tapping it against his fingers instead. “Oh? What else have you heard?”

“Well, they say you’re insanely smart, but you’re also pretentious.”

He frowned. The way his brows scrunched was endearing. “I’m not pretentious. Everyone else is simply far underqualified.”

“They also say that you’re an elitist.” you laughed. 

Concern only grew on his expression. “Do you think this of me?”

You shrugged. “I’m yet to form an opinion.”

He nodded. “Good. Wise.” he said, almost as if reassuring himself. 

“...How long will this be, though? I can only sit still for so long.”

He blinked, turning to the sketchpad again. “Not too long. I promise.”

“Can we go out to dinner, afterwards?” 

At this, he choked. You stifled a laugh at the renewed blush on his cheeks. 

“Dinner? Why?”

“You owe me, don’t you?”

This is when he realises that he was a fool in allowing you in, to allow the muse of his most divine visions to become human. 

He’s greedy, though. No one and nothing can change this. He wanted more of you. He wanted to hear each thought that crossed your mind and know each little item that occupied your attention. He wanted to dissect your mind and examine your memories and behaviours like an insect splayed under a glass, and he wanted to understand you so well that he became sick with the thought of you. But in his mind, you could do no wrong. You were so divine; with your secret smiles that held secret thoughts, and knowing glances that examined his frame with an artist’s scrutinising eye. 

“Fine. Just let me finish up.”

So you stay put, and you return to the thick silence that envelops the room. The clock ticking above the armchair only taunts you as your limbs begin to ache from lack of movement. 

Scratching on paper, huffs of exasperation, the occasional tearing of a page, and he finally sighs, rising from the couch. The sun had long since set, only remnants of daylight still lingering on the sky’s deep blue. The light was gone. You wondered if he’d captured the sun in his drawing, as well. 

“It’s done. Not good as the professor would like, but it will do for now.” he said, running a hand – dusted with black – through his hair. His forehead was coated in splotches of black thumb prints. 

You similarly rose from the armchair, stretching, and walked over to the drawing on the coffee table. 

You didn’t realise this was how you looked to him. Your features were only emphasised in the dramatics of the sunset, the slight turn of your lips and curve of your cheekbones accentuated with the shadows. He’d taken artistic liberty, you realised, in painting you within the sun’s dying light. 

You almost looked divine. 

“Holy shit.”

“Does that hold a negative connotation?”

“Veritas, you’re crazy.”

“...negative?”

“It’s so…” you met his gaze which was already searching yours for a reaction. “It’s brilliant. It’s so, so good.”

His shoulders relaxed as he sighed. “Good. Let’s go to dinner, then.” he turns to leave, but you stop him, grabbing his arm. You found that it was hard as chiselled marble, and almost want to find out exactly what’s underneath, but you dismiss the thought. 

“You have something on your forehead.” you point. 

He frowned, rubbing his forehead with the same hand that had been gripping the charcoal for the past hour. Smudged it even further. His forehead was thinly coated in black ash.

You sighed. “Here, let me.” 

He leaned down for you to wipe the stains, hair hanging over his eyes. He smelled faintly of the library with its old books, and partly of ink with something deeper. His eyes darted around to meet anything but your gaze, long lashes fluttering, crimson red eyes matching the shade of his complexion. 

You make him nervous, you confirm with delight. 

“There. That’s the most of it.” you withdrew, and he stood back up quicker than you thought possible. 

“Alright, dinner, then.” 

“Dinner.”

“I’ll go and… wash up.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

He realised how much he was doomed as the sky started to pour with rain, just as the two of you stepped outdoors, beyond his apartment complex. 

“How far is the place you wanted to go?” he asked you.

“Not too far. Let’s just keep walking.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside you. His steps were terrifyingly large, as would make sense with his tall frame. 

“So what are your interests?” he blurts out, staring at the ground as he walks. 

“Well, art, obviously,”

“Yes, of course, do you think I’m dense?”

“Maybe a little.” 

“I will interpret that as sarcasm.”

You laugh, and as if the heavens had heard you, the rain began to fall heavier, darkening the landscape, tingeing the air with smells of petrichor and a cold that wasn’t there before. 

Ratio thought it was ironic. A pathetic fallacy of his doomed fate. 

“You have to be kidding me.”

He sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers. “We are unfortuitous.”

“...You could’ve said unlucky.”

“I choose not to associate myself with idiots.”

You chuckle as you attempt to cover your head with your arms, running to the nearest block for shelter. The rain, however, doesn’t desist. It continues to pour until you’re both soaked through – his hair soaking wet, sticking to his forehead, white shirt clinging to his carved abdomen that you desperately try to avoid looking at. 

“Should we just go back?” you move your hair out of your eyes, squinting in the relentless downpour. Through the slight shelter of the building behind you two, the rain pours heavy as ever, unlikely to cease soon. 

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion.”

“...Why didn’t you offer it first?”

Because he thought you looked good in the rain with wet hair. He wanted to remember the image – burn it into his eyelids – before he returned to sketch it. Number of things he’d never say aloud: two.

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion yourself.”

“Pretentious.”

“Thank you. Now can we hurry? It’s only getting heavier.”

His situation, ironically, then becomes even more perilous. A series of unfortunate events, unfolding like a train of misfortunes. First, your meeting – strikingly uncomfortable for both of you, he imagined (it certainly was for him) – then your failed attempt at dinner, interrupted by an unforgiving rain storm. He didn’t think it could get much worse. But there was always room for improvement, as he knows better than anyone, the academic that he is. 

There are, now, puddles of water throughout Dr Ratio’s apartment that he hadn’t bothered to clean since you got into his shower.

You, in his shower. 

He wonders if there is a God, somewhere out there, delighting in his torment. It was never supposed to devolve into such interactions, only observing you long enough to capture your beauty on the page. 

He wonders if you know he is thinking about you often as he does. Thinks you’d be completely repulsed by him. This is what frightens him. 

“Veritas?” your voice echoes from within the house. 

He gets up from where he’s sitting in a puddle near the kitchen, racing to the bathroom at your call. Did he manage to miss something incriminating in his bathroom? He’d made sure that every surface was bare before you entered, had he not?

“Yes?”

“...This is embarrassing. Can you please get me a towel?” 

This felt like one of those cliches in romantic comedies that Ratio’s colleagues liked to watch. Mindless scenes of dry humour and burlesque attempts at “comedy” he found appalling. It was happening to him, now. Spiting his academic rigidity. 

“Of course. One moment.”

He tries not to think about you, standing completely bare behind the door, as he sticks a hand into the bathroom, head turned away. If you looked closer, you’d have seen the bright red shade of his ears – but to his merit, you take the towel, shutting the door, a muffled “thank you” audible through the door. 

He sighs, sitting on the floor beside the bathroom. 

Whatever Gods there were, were bestowing great suffering on him today. 

It takes a couple minutes for you to finish up in the bathroom. Another few more for him to wash up, and another handful of minutes for you both to be seated on the couch together in awkward silence. 

You wear one of Ratio’s old shirts and shorts, scrolling on your phone, and he is sitting, arms crossed, on the opposite end of the couch, staring at you again. Outside, the rain still pours in unceasing rivulets, dissipating any ideas for going out for dinner. 

He thinks his clothes look far better on you than on him. Thinks that you were made for this world and its inhabitants, crafted so perfectly. Wonders what wouldn’t suit your wear, because he can’t imagine anything that you couldn’t look good in. 

“Okay,” you say, turning off your phone to stare back at him, “I ordered. Should be here in about ten minutes.” 

He nods, and averts his gaze. 

You smile. His behaviour is amusing.  

“Veritas?”

“Yes?”

“What are your greatest fears?”

“Excuse me?”

You shuffle closer, and he notes a glint in your eye that suggests mischief. Teasing, as he’d seen before. “What are you afraid of? Like, the dark?”

“Nothing.”

“Boring. Come on, there’s gotta be something.” 

He frowns, brows bunching together as he stares at the wall. An easy, natural habit. “Nothing. Fear is irrational.”

“Right.” you laugh at his blatant refusal to cooperate with you. 

“Am I being funny?”

“No,”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being so… unexpectedly childish.”

“What?” he seems to prickle up with indignation. “What do you mean?”

“Your stubbornness to just answer my question, and the way you’re…” you gesture to his posture, the way his arms are folded and he glares at the wall. “Behaving. It’s childish.”

“Well, what are you afraid of? Nothing, right? It’s a stupid question.”

“I’m afraid of insects, the dark, I could go on, really,”

Veritas glares at you, meeting your eyes for a second. “Fear is stupid.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you scared of holding eye contact?”

At this, he blinks. He turns to face you, still frowning, but his gaze flickers between your eyes and the rest of your face. Your laugh only makes him roll his eyes. 

“You really can’t hold eye contact, can you?” you say through a fit of giggles. “Have you ever dated?”

“Yes, I can hold eye contact,” – but not with you, it seemed. You intimidated him – “And no, I haven’t, it’s a distraction.”

“From what I’m seeing, you can barely even be near me without blushing.”

He blushes, breathing a sigh of exasperation. 

“Dr Veritas Ratio’s one fear is making eye–”

Then he grabs your shoulders, forcing you closer, and holds your gaze with such intensity that the words disappear from your lips. You blink as his stare bores into yours, crimson eyes deep, shining with something unfamiliar to you that you realise you want to decipher. 

People like to say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and Veritas Ratio’s was ridden with something that burned like the sun's dying light. 

It’s then that you realise how close you are to him, how his firm grip on your shoulders softens and his touch drifts to hover above your jaw, how he smelled so inviting, familiar and distant all at once, and how his lips were slightly parted, how they looked so soft –

Knocking, at the front door. 

You both tear away, and he stumbles to the front door to collect your delivery. 

You never regret anything more than this moment. 

“Delivery.”

You nod, obscuring your face with your hair as he sets down your meal on the coffee table. 

You’re both back to silence, pleasantries and common niceties as the meal passes. 

Neither of you meet the other’s eye. 

Time ticks away as you finish your food and clean up, wiled away by carefully weighed words and half-met glances. 

He hates it. 

He hates how you were looking at him with such curiosity, and he hates how he let you tease him. He also hates the delivery man for not being delayed by the rain, but he also hates himself for not ignoring the knocks on his front door. 

“I think I should go now.”

Yes, that would be best. “Why? It’s still raining, you could stay.”

“Well…”

He knows your dorm is far from his apartment complex. He knows that you’ll have to trek through the rain, and yet he also knows that if you stay, he won't be able to sleep. He still has images of you – fresh in his mind – to sketch onto the page. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Okay. I’ll stay the night.”

“You can sleep in my room.”

“But–”

“Don’t argue.”

Somehow, you’re inclined to do as he says. 

Time, like all things, passes too quickly and too slowly all at once. Without time, nothing exists, but with it, it’s all too agonising to live through. 

This is exactly how Dr Ratio feels as he sits at the coffee table, the small space dimly illuminated by a lamp, as the entire apartment is still. You’re probably sleeping, as he reminds himself, tearing another page out of his sketchbook, unsatisfied with his own hand. 

The rain was now tame, a steady rhythm to his never-ending endeavours to capture your beauty on the page. 

Maybe it’s when the charcoal snaps in his hands, or maybe it’s when his lamplight flickers that he decides that capturing life in still motion is helpless – a pointless and impossible venture that can never succeed. 

You’re too deific to fit into a world of his creation. 

What are supposed to be your eyes – painted with fervour, but lacking depth – stare up into the ceiling as he dozes off, charcoal falling from his hand, eyes drooping closed. Slivers of moonlight cut across your painted face as he slumps onto the table, snoring softly.

—

You wake to sunlight in your eyes, blinding and harsh, and realise where you are. 

It all smells like him – that scent that you can’t place that smells good, and a lingering smell of the library with all its papers. It all smells like him, and when you walk into the living room, you find that his own apartment is completely devoid of any sense of himself. 

But when you find him slumped at the coffee table, lamplight still illuminating the space with its curtains drawn and rays of sunlight peering through, he’s obsessed with you. 

You’re unsure what, exactly, to feel. There are abandoned pages scattered all throughout the space, and unfurling one, you recognise your own face staring back at you. 

Each and every drawing is of you – your hair wet, clinging to your skin, you drowning in his clothes far too large for you, or your face painted with curiosity and entrapment. 

It’s you through Veritas’ gaze, and you think that beyond all else, he made you look divine. 

When Veritas Ratio wakes to his papers – all wrinkled and partly torn – sitting in front of him, neatly arranged with a note on top, realisation hits him, but he can only laugh. 

“Veritas Ratio’s greatest fear: eye contact with the person he’s obsessed with. Completely irrational – even though he can draw me perfectly from memory. A shame, really. Looks like you’ll have to invite me over to pose for you again.

So you can get my eyes right, of course.”

written by @atlaswav , published 26th of August 2024

[the-desilittle-bird]

AN - Writing for our dear Sasha for the very first time. And so I kind of decided to start with headcanons. Hope you all like it.

Requests are open and well appreciated!

Thank you and have a great read.

Being a Princess and Meeting The Darkling

Warnings - Scheming Aleksander for a while.

GIF Credits to @inknopewetrust

You were the middle child of the Tsar and the Tsaritsa. Which means you were older than Nikolai and technically, second in line to the throne. But you never wanted to be a Queen, you just thought you weren’t meant to be.

At the age of 15, you were sent away from the capital to complete your education and learn about politics and what not.

You were a bright student, as the educators complimented, and a quick learner.

Years outside and relatively alone, you understood the world more closely, learning and watching from the shadows as Grisha were discriminated. They were Grisha, never Ravkans; something you didn’t like.

On your 18th birthday, you were summoned back to the court, to pick up on your duties as a princess.

Despite your lack of interest in politics, you forced pleaded your father to give you a seat on his Royal Council, the very place where all his decisions were taken.

The court was enthusiastic, spreading word of your arrival and speculating all and everything days before you arrived.

“I have heard that the princess has a big nose.”

“No, I have heard she has became quite the beauty.”

“She is stupid, they say.”

“Are you out of your mind? Everyone is aware that the princess is a bright learner.”

“She supports Grisha, or so I have heard.”

While Aleksander met most of the gossips with a straight face and a neutral, if not dismissive approach, he was taken aback by the last of it. To know that the princess supposedly supported as well as sympathised with his people.

But he remains quiet, carrying on his duties as the General of the Second Army.

The day you arrived in the Grand Palace was a day of a grand feast. The Queen and King wished to welcome their only daughter with the fanciest feast of the year.

You were never fond of feasts and grand dinners your family hosted but as the feast was kept in your honour, you put on your best smile and mingled with a flute of champagne in your hand.

That was when you first met the Black General— the infamous Darkling.

You found him intriguingly handsome and equally mysterious. A combination that had your stomach at unrest, but in the most pleasant manner.

A polite conversation began, which might have started from your studies and your experience outside of Os Alta but ended with you both agreeing to your common ideas about Grisha.

“I believe that Grisha should also be given as much respect as any other First Army officer.”

“Much few think that, moya tsarvena.”

“Then surely they don’t understand what your people contribute to Ravka.”

Turns out, you were more kind hearted than the rest of the Lantsov Family, a revelation that had Aleksander taking a deep breath.

He found you beautiful but equally smart and confident. And saw what could be his chance to usurp the throne.

A perfect plan started weaving in his mind. Seduce you; make you fall in love with him; ask the king to marry you both. Now that would be a slightly tricky part, given the Tsar’s hatred towards Grisha. But if he did say anything against the union, rumours could be easily planted in the common people. A story of true and pure love that the King opposed. Being married to you would make him a prince, that would mean that he would have an unsaid claim to the throne. Then he only needed to stage an assassination of your entire family, minus you of course. With all the Lantsov dead except you, you would ascend the throne with him by your side.

With a classic plan set, he had asked you for a dance, which turned into another and then another while words flowed smoothly between you two.

“I hadn’t took you for a dancer, moi soverenyi.”

(Chuckles) “It is not the best of my traits.”

“Well, I would like to disagree.”

At the end of the feast, you realised that you had spent most of your time with the Darkling, something that did not go unnoticed by the courtiers.

“The princess has been by the Darkling’s side throughout the feast.”

“Do you think he has worked his magic on her?”

“She does not know what she is getting into. Meddling with him is never safe.”

But you didn’t care, at least not for that night in particular.

You bid each other good night, and much to your surprise, he pressed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, making you flush red.

“It was lovely to make your acquaintance, my princess. I hope to be in your presence more often.”

Aleksander lay in his bed that night, restless and his mind evaded with you.

Your smile, your kindness, your eyes, your confidence. Everything had made him wish to acquaint himself and his plan had faded into the background for brief moments that lasted too long.

In the darkness of his room, with his shadows looming high in the corners, he found himself pondering upon you which lead to him asking himself:

Have I fallen for the princess?

The idea frightens him. The thought that someone could have more power upon him. Especially that someone being a mortal; an otkazat’sya. That someone being You.

“What have you done to me?” He groaned quietly, his dark eyes staring into the shadows of his room. All while his mind pictured you beside him, clad in a dark nightwear, sleeping soundly.

[happy74827]

Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - II

Summary: Five years after your last visit to Tir Asleen, you finally get to see Kit again. Although you promised your mother you wouldn’t let Kit influence you, her fiery personality and strong will draw you in, and open your eyes to a whole new world of excitement and adventure.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: fluff, reader’s subtle mommy issues, rebellious kit, weapons, sword fighting, stumbling upon mature illustrations, childlike innocence, implied parent death, one bed, sneaking out

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: this chapter does contain adolescents stumbling upon some ‘sensual’ illustrations in library books. It is purely meant to be part of a ‘coming of age,’ and I even had others proofread it to make sure it comes off that way. Anyways, here’s the second chapter of Forbidden Crown! :)

Almost immediately upon returning to Azarenth, you began pressing your parents about revisiting Tir Asleen.

Your inquiries began innocently. “Mommy, can we go and see the twins today?”

Each time, she’d shake her head. “Not today, sweetheart. Our responsibilities leave no time for such an endeavor.”

Then, you resorted to excuses. “Father, we’ve been so busy, we could really use a holiday. How about a trip to Tir Asleen?”

He’d chortle at the suggestion. “Princess, if we were to go on holiday, it certainly would not be to a place such as Tir Asleen!”

Every day, you would pose similar questions, and as time went on, your parents' refusals became curt, tinged with vexation. Eventually, you ceased questioning altogether, not wanting to further irritate them.

Despite your silence, your mind occupied itself with thoughts of Kit. You longed to keep in contact with her, but your parents thought you weren’t old enough to have your own carrier pigeon. In an attempt to keep her close, you even secretly wore her breeches beneath your dresses until they no longer fit, then kept them stashed in the bottom of your storage chest, hidden from your parents or any prying maids.

Every day, you wondered how she was doing, and every day, you wondered if she thought of you as well.

It wasn’t until just before the summer of your tenth year that you thought you would ever see Kit again. On a golden May afternoon, you heard your mothers voice calling you in from playing outside with some children from the nearby village. Disgruntled, you bid your friends farewell and trudged back in through the castle doors.

Upon entering, you immediately saw your parents sitting in the Great Hall, hands folded on the table in front of them. You gulped; this room was rarely ever used, with the exception of large gatherings or very important meetings. Hypothetical scenarios swarmed your mind as you desperately tried to figure out what horrible thing you had done to warrant a meeting in the Great Hall.

Walking in, you took a seat across from your parents, folding your hands in your lap and refusing eye contact.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you in here,” your mother began, never one to beat around the bush.

You nodded slowly, still declining to meet her gaze. Your father cleared his throat, taking over the conversation.

“Princess,” he began. “As you’re well aware, you are a child of nobility. It is very important to us that you grow up receiving the best education and training possible, and that includes learning crucial life skills such as independence and adaptability.”

Furrowing your brow, you nodded, confused. You didn’t have a clue where this conversation was going and frankly wished your parents would just get to the point so you could go back outside.

Almost as if she could read your mind, your mother jumped in. “Your father and I have been exchanging letters with the Queen of Tir Asleen. You remember Sorsha and her twins, don’t you?”

Your ears perked up at this, the mere mention of your long-lost friends sending a wave of sweet nostalgia to wash over you. “Of course! I loved playing with Kit.”

“And Airk,” your mother interrupted, hardening her gaze.

Forgetting that your mother wasn’t necessarily a fan of the Princess of Tir Asleen, you were quick to agree. “Yes, Airk too, surely.”

“After some back and forth,” your mother took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Queen Sorsha has agreed to foster you temporarily. You will be staying in Tir Asleen with her and her children for the summer months.”

Just for a brief moment, you swore your heart stopped beating before a burst of warmth exploded in your chest. Three whole months spent with Kit? Staying in the Tir Asleen castle? Away from your parents? The very thought made you tingle with excitement.

“This is not a holiday,” your mother interrupted your daydream as if she could see your thoughts. “You will be studying under an array of tutors and governesses, receiving a rigorous education and learning proper court etiquette. I hope you don’t think you’re going to spend the entire summer rolling around in mud with that filthy girl.”

Your mother’s slander against Kit made your blood boil underneath your skin, evaporating to your face and turning your cheeks a dark crimson. Every cell in your body wanted to stand up and scream at your mother before shouting Kit’s praises. Instead, you decided to seethe quietly, fearing that speaking up could jeopardize the trip.

As the conversation came to a close and you got up to leave, your mother called your name just before you made it out the door. You took a deep breath, forcing a grin as you turned to face her.

“Yes, mother?” Your voice came out strained and tense.

Her expression turned serious as her jaw stilled, mouth tight in a straight line. She peered at you through her brow, not breaking her gaze for one moment.

“Don’t let that Kit girl influence you. I mean it.”

The following fortnight seemed to drag as you waited impatiently for June to arrive. Each day seemed to tick by slower than the last, until you managed to develop an irrational hatred for the month of May.

When the morning of your departure finally arrived, a servant entered your bedchamber to fetch your storage chest, only to find the room empty and the chest missing. After informing the castle and a brief moment of panic, one of the guards found you already in the carriage, having dragged your storage chest by yourself all the way outside at the first sign of daybreak.

“May we leave now?” You asked, ever impatient.

The castle staff shared a hearty chuckle over your eagerness when your parents stepped outside, dismissing the crew before bidding their final farewells.

“Luck be with you in Tir Asleen, Princess,” your father began, bearing his familiar kind smile. “You’re not to worry about traveling alone, I hired the best coachman in all of Azarenth to ensure your safety.”

Returning your fathers warm grin, you leaned out the carriage window to wrap your arms around his neck. Your mother, nowhere near as affectionate as her husband, simply gave you a tight smile and a curt nod.

“Be on your best behavior for Sorsha, please.”

The day-long journey to Tir Asleen was long and winding, the wheels against cobblestone bricks gently rocking the carriage. Traveling alone for the first time had you a tad nervous, but the friendly coachman made sure to keep you company.

Soon, as the late afternoon sun began its descent, the castle of Tir Asleen gradually came into view. Nostalgic memories rushed through your mind as the stone battlements seemed to pierce the clouds. You leaned your head out the carriage window, feeling the warm wind on your face and breathing in the familiar smell of dew.

The carriage came to a halt at the castle entrance, the sudden stillness of the car making you wonder how long your hands had been shaking. Peering out the carriage window, you saw Airk near the front, sword sparring with another boy around his age.

Disappointment shadowed your face at the absence of Kit, but you tried to hide it. As you waited for the coachman to gather your things, you busied yourself watching Airk spar. He was quite the swordsman, staying quick on his feet, and countering each attack with focus clouding his uncovered face.

Despite Airk’s impressive skill, his opponent still seemed to have the upper hand. You couldn’t quite make out who he was due to a faceplate covering his features, but his technique was precise, perfected, almost as if he’d had to work twice as hard as Airk to get where he was.

Suddenly, Airk momentarily lost his footing on a slippery rock, allowing his mysterious opponent to take advantage and deliver one final strike. Airk tumbled to the ground, the anonymous swordsman moving to stand over him as he conceded defeat.

You couldn’t help but erupt into applause, after all, duels rarely happened in your kingdom. Startled, Airk and his friend turned towards you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’d arrived. You were about to approach Airk and exchange pleasant greetings when his masked adversary suddenly removed his faceplate, shaking out his hair and revealing his identity.

Shock hung from your features. This mysterious man wasn’t mysterious at all! Or a man! It was Kit!

“Kit!” You exclaimed, your voice coming out as an involuntary squeal.

She called your name back and ran to you, enveloping you in a hug. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, damp with sweat from the humidity of the faceplate.

“Your hair got so long!” You commented after pulling away.

It was true. Kits original short chop now flowed in waves down to her mid-torso, making her look oddly feminine even in trousers.

“I hate it,” Kit groaned, pinching a lock of her hair and frowning down at it. “It gets so hot, and I hate having to put it up.”

As she fidgeted with her hair, your gaze traveled down to her wrist, noticing a sandstone silk strand peeking out of her sleeve. Curious, you took her hand and pushed her sleeve up, revealing the ribbon she had stolen from you all those years ago.

“My ribbon!” You exclaimed, surprised and genuinely touched. “You still wear it?”

“Every day,” Kit answered truthfully. “It reminds me of you.”

You turned her wrist over in your hand, admiring the ribbon. The previously bright pink silk had faded into a blush beige, bleached from sun exposure. Once perky bunny-ear loops now drooped down her wrist, tickling the bottom of her palm. It was almost unrecognizable, this old ribbon that time had not been kind to, and the fact that Kit had worn it all these years warmed a special place in your heart.

Airk cleared his throat, startling you slightly as you had forgotten he was there. You offered him an apologetic smile, letting go of Kit’s wrist to shake his hand.

“Forgive me,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s good to see you again as well, Airk.”

The rest of the evening was spent catching up; the three of you laid on patches of grass and recounted events from the last five years until a maid rang the dinner bell. Even at dinner, all of you prattled incessantly. Airk eventually found he’d said enough and focused on his meal, but you and Kit talked through mouthfuls of food, much to Sorsha’s chagrin.

“You can eat or you can speak, but it’s terribly impolite to combine the two,” she scolded.

After the third or fourth lecture, you noticed how they would only come from Sorsha. A brief glance around the table confirmed your suspicions: Madmartigan was absent.

“Where’s your dad?” You whispered to Kit, worried that asking Sorsha directly would upset her.

Kit, however, perked up at your question, eyes sparkling at the mention of her role model. “He’s on a quest! He’s going to fight inside a worm!”

“He’s trying to destroy the Wyrm from the inside, Kit.” Airk corrected.

Kit brushed off her brother, ignoring his comment and continuing. “He’s been fighting the Wyrm for some time now. He’s so busy, but he always has a letter delivered to us on the first of every month!”

She sprang up from her chair, dashing to fetch the most recent letter before being stopped by Sorsha. “Kit, how many times have I said not to leave the table without being excused?”

Kit spun around with a dramatically curtsy and mimed pulling on an invisible skirt. “Mother, may I please be excused from this fine supper? Oh mummy, please may I?”

You stifled a giggle at her theatrics. Sorsha sighed, dismissing her with the wave of her hand. Kit sped out of the room, returning seconds later with a piece of paper and thrusting it into Sorsha’s hands.

“This one arrived today.” Kit explained, leaning over her mother’s shoulder.

Despite Sorsha’s annoyance with her daughter, she couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly pinched the corners of her husband's letter.

“My dear family,” she began reading as Airk rushed over, joining Kit in reading over their mother’s shoulder. “As I venture forth on this perilous mission, know that my thoughts are never far from all of you. My journey to confront the Wyrm may be ripe with danger, but carrying the strength of our family has gotten me through some challenging moments.”

“To my daughter, Kit,” Kit perked up at the mention of her name, leaning farther into the letter as Sorsha continued to read. “Your unyielding spirit and fearlessness are sure to serve you well in all that you do. Always remember to keep your sword sharp and your wits sharper.”

“To Airk,” it was Airk’s turn to lean into the letter. “My son, every day you continue to amaze me. I look forward to returning and watching you grow into the man I know you’re destined to be.”

“And to my lovely wife,” Sorsha’s voice cracked as she read. “Not a day goes by where I don’t picture your face. You are the light that leads me through the darkest tunnels.”

Sorsha sniffed, attempting to discreetly wipe away a tear before reading the last section. “I promise to return one day, victorious and bearing plenty of stories. Until then, I hope you’ll take comfort in these letters. All my love, Madmartigan.”

Kit looked up from the letter, eyes shining with undeterrable admiration. “When I grow up, I want to be just like him.”

Later that night, as you readied yourself for slumber in one of the castle's many guest rooms, a knock interrupted your solitude. You granted permission to enter, fixing your posture and bracing yourself to be greeted by Sorsha. However, your tension eased when the door cracked and Kit’s face poked through.

“I need your help with something,” she whispered, cautious not to disturb any sleeping residents.

“Why? What happened?” You inquired.

Without another word, Kit seized your hand and led you away. You protested at first, feeling naked in your thin nightgown outside the walls of your bedchamber, but Kit's hand wrapped around yours felt soothing, like a warm glove on a cold day, and you knew that no matter where you went, you would be safe as long as Kit was there.

She led you to the end of the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through the doors of the basement, only letting go of your hand to ignite a taper candle and shed some light into the dark room. Weapons of all shapes and sizes mounted the walls, their silver blades illuminating in the candle light. Various types of armor decorated the corners, including the faceplate Kit had worn earlier in the day.

“Is this…”

“The armory.” Kit answered your unspoken question.

You nodded, marveling at the room. Azarenth had an armory in their castle too, but it was heavily guarded, and strictly off limits to you.

Kit plucked a sword from the wall and laid it flat against her palms, presenting it to you. “I need you to cut my hair.”

“What?” You searched Kit’s face for any sign of humor, but found none as she stood completely serious.

“I need you to cut my hair,” she repeated. “I can’t reach back there, and Airk won’t do it because he’s afraid of getting in trouble.”

“What if I get in trouble?” You asked, still in disbelief at her request.

“You won’t,” she replied, completely sure of herself.

Kit still sensed your hesitation, so she put the sword down and took both of your hands in hers. “You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise. My mom won’t let me cut my hair because she says it makes me look ‘pretty,’ but what good is beauty if I’m constantly uncomfortable? Please, I really need you to do this for me.”

There it was again, that feeling of safety that surmounted whenever Kit held your hand. You sighed defeatedly, nodding in agreement. Kit beamed at you as she placed the sword in your hands, but the large piece of metal turned out to be much heavier than you expected and you ended up dropping it, the sword falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“I haven’t actually… used a sword before,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Kit thought for a second before her face brightened once again, running to a nearby rack and picking up an oddly-shaped knife. “Dagger?”

You agreed, and Kit handed you the dagger, showing you how to grip the handle. As you clutched this foreign weapon, a new sense of power washed over you. You suddenly felt invincible, safe, but a different kind of safe from when Kit held your hand.

“How short do you want it?” You asked, still examining the jagged piece of metal.

Kit shrugged. “I just don’t want to have to tie it up in order to spar.”

She turned around, facing away from you and shaking out her long locks so they all flowed down her back. You gulped, gathering her hair in a handful just below her neck, hands shaking as the previous power evaporated into thin air and replaced itself with anxiety. With one quick slash it was all over, the sharp blade passing through her delicate hairs with ease. A sigh left your lips, relieved to have completed your task. You glanced down to admire your handiwork, but were met with a sight so horrific that the dagger fell from your unsteady hands, dropping to the floor with a sharp clang.

Her hair, once long and beautiful, was now absolutely botched. Tresses meant to float over her shoulders now curled just under her ears, while crooked sprigs stuck out in all directions.

“How does it look?” Kit asked, but you were too afraid to answer.

When you didn’t, she picked up the sword off the ground, admiring her reflection in the shiny metal. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock. She reached up, carefully running her fingers over the butchered ends.

A lump rose in your throat as you became overwhelmed with guilt. “Kit, I’m so…”

“I love it.” Kit said in a low voice.

You blinked, not quite registering what she said. “Huh?”

“I love it!” Kit repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s exactly what I wanted: short!”

“But it’s so choppy and uneven!” You exclaimed, confused by her elation.

Kit shook her head, sprigs flying in every direction. “I look the way I’ve always felt inside: a harbinger of chaos!”

She swung the sword around for effect, giggling like a little kid. You felt yourself relax as you watched her, relieved she wasn’t angry and somewhat enamored by her unbridled joy.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable slam of a basement door reverberated throughout the armory. A tall figure entered, holding a large torch that cast a looming shadow. You and Kit froze, tension palpable as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself to be Sorsha.

Her gaze immediately fixated on Kit’s hair, expression hardening into unreadable stone. “There was a clatter. I was afraid there might be an intruder.”

Slowly, she approached you two, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. She reached out to touch Kit’s chopped tresses tentatively, as if they would scald her. “Your hair…”

You glanced between Kit and Sorsha, a sense of dread settling inside you as you prepared your confession. “Your majesty, I…”

“I did it,” Kit interjected, surprising you. “I got fed up with my long hair, and since you wouldn’t allow me to get it cut, I snuck down here and did it myself.”

Sorsha squinted at her daughter, skeptical at her story. Noticing her doubt, Kit gestured towards you. “She’s here because she tried to stop me.”

Sorsha’s gaze shifted down, noticing Kit still holding a sword, while your hands were empty. She took a step back, her face darkening with a quiet anger. You held your breath, bracing yourself for the explosion, but instead her eyes softened as she turned to you.

“Your mother raised such a well-behaved young lady,” she remarked sweetly before redirecting her attention to Kit. “I wish I had done the same…”

You glanced over at Kit, who appeared unfazed by her mother’s hurtful words.

“We’ll continue this discussion upstairs,” Sorsha muttered through clenched teeth, seizing Kit’s arm and leading her away.

You watched as Kit was pulled out of the basement, the guilt from going along with her lie eating you up from the inside. Part of you longed to follow, to confess your involvement, but your feet stayed cemented to the floor, blocks of concrete too heavy to move.

Just before disappearing through the door, Kit turned to look at you, noting your terror-stricken face. You attempted to mouth an ‘I’m sorry,’ but she vigorously shook her head. Instead, she offered you a reassuring smile, sending a wink in your direction that made your heart squeeze. And just like that, you became certain that everything would be alright.

It would be a full month before you could speak to Kit again.

You were right to be worried about getting into trouble, because Kit had gotten herself into a lot. As punishment, she had been confined to her chambers for the past few weeks, only being let out to assist the scullions with chores. Sometimes, you would pass her walking with the maids in the hallways, and when no one was looking, she would shoot you a funny face that never failed to make you laugh.

The weeks without Kit seemed to stretch, each day growing longer than the last. You eventually grew bored with Tir Asleen, the absence of your friend diminishing the kingdom’s original appeal. Luckily, you at least had Airk to keep you company.

“Why do you think our parents keep pushing us to be friends?” You asked him one day, while you were both taking a stroll around the palace gardens.

Airk simply shrugged. “I wonder that too sometimes. Perhaps they want us to learn about each other's homes?”

You shook your head. “Azarenth is only a day trip away from Tir Asleen, not much to learn. Maybe they just want us to get along.”

“But I don’t recall any conflict between our kingdoms,” Airk remarked.

These were the typical conversations between you and Airk: mundane, frivolous words meant to fill an empty space. It’s not as if he wasn’t pleasant company, but he just didn’t excite you the way Kit did.

One early morning, near the end of the month, you were sound asleep in your guest bed when you suddenly felt a crushing weight moving on top of you, followed by the inability to breathe. You opened your eyes to see a dark figure over you, holding its hands over your nose and mouth. Fear coursed through you as your survival instinct took over, thrashing under the dark figure and screaming pleas muffled by its hands.

“Shh… shh… Princess…” the figure leaned down to whisper in your ear.

Your stifled breath hitched in your throat at the familiarity of the figure's voice. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared up at the figure, eyes adjusting to the darkness until Kit’s unmistakable face came into view.

“Kit…” you whispered as soon as she removed her hands from your mouth. “What are you…”

“I’m not in trouble anymore,” she cut you off. “I’m free.”

“What…” you sat up to lean on your elbows. “Kit, that’s wonderful. But, what do you mean?”

“My mother’s focusing on Airk now,” she replied. “Come with me.”

She seized your hand once again and pulled you out of bed, disclosing her intentions while leading you across the castle.

“I’m usually awoken this early to assist the scullions with chores,” she explained. “However, this morning one of the more prying maids told me that I’m no longer needed, that Airk will be doing chores now.”

“But why?” You inquired.

“I’ll show you.”

She led you down to the large double doors of the palace library, opening them cautiously to avoid getting caught. The overwhelming smell of old books hit you as soon as you stepped inside, smacking you in the face before enveloping you in a warm hug. Your castle didn’t have a library as much as a few bookshelves here and there, so you couldn’t help but stop and marvel at Tir Asleen’s vast collection of books piled high as the ceiling.

“Come on,” Kit insisted, yanking you out of your daydream and pulling you towards a table in the back of the library that was covered with half-open books. “The maid said that my mother caught Airk reading these late last night, and that’s why he’s in trouble.”

“For reading?” You were puzzled.

“Not just reading,” Kit explained. “She said the literature was lewd.”

“Lewd?”

“Bad.” Kit clarified, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Your brows furrowed, still confused. “But… how can a book be bad?”

Kit seemed unsure how to answer your question, but was curious to find out. She pulled a paper manuscript off the top of one of the piles and opened it to a random page, both of you gasping at the sight. While the text was nothing extraordinary, the margins of the pages were filled with graphic drawings of women in various states of undress.

Your finger trembled as you pointed at one of the women, the top of her dress pulled down to her stomach. “Is that…”

“I think that’s what they’re supposed to look like. When we’re older.” Kit whispered, not taking her eyes off the page.

Both of you sat at the table and stared at the page in awe, neither of you daring to speak. After a moment, you decided to pick another book off of one of the piles, the cover reading “Carmina Burana.” You glanced at Kit, who bore into you, silently daring you to open it.

Flipping to another random page, you came across a translated poem entitled “Si Puer Cum Puella,” and began to read. “If a lad and his sweet lover, in a room together linger—an ineffable game begins, in their abandoned lips and limbs.”

Looking over at Kit, you expected her to explain what the poem meant, but she seemed as confused as you were. Turning the page, you found more marginalia, these drawings far different from the ones in the manuscript. In the corner of the page was a drawing of a man, carrying a sword in a full state of undress that exposed his flaccid…

You slammed the book shut in disgust, cheeks burning a dark crimson.

“What happened?” Kit questioned.

With a shaky hand, you pushed the book in her direction. She furrowed her brow at you and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages until coming across the drawing. Horrified, she let out a sharp “eek” before slamming the book shut once again.

“Shhh…” you reminded her, remembering what happened the last time you two got caught sneaking around. She nodded, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Both of you stared down at the book as if it had burned you. The air around you felt thick, the only audible sounds being shallow breaths and your own heart beating in your ears.

“Airk has one of those,” Kit finally spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen it. We took baths together when we were younger.”

“Do they all look like that?” You asked in disgust.

Kit shook her head, gesturing to the abandoned book. “Not like that!”

The two of you stood frozen for another minute before you decided to take a leap of faith, grabbing the “Carmina Burana” and flipping back to the offending page. You tore out the drawing, ripping it to shreds and shoving it down one of your stockings to dispose of later. Glancing over at Kit, she stood shocked, her mouth agape.

“I think boys are nasty,” you exclaimed, grabbing the previous manuscript and revisiting the page with the drawings of women, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Much better.”

For the rest of the summer, you and Kit made it a habit to sneak around in the dead of nights, embarking on secret little adventures just for the two of you. Sometimes you would revisit the back corners of the library to explore banned literature; other times, you would break into the kitchen to eat an entire jar of fruit preserves between the two of you.

But most nights were reserved for nothing but late-night chatter. You would hide in each other's rooms, whispering secrets that dissolved into the quiet of the night, like you did when you were younger.

However, these late nights did take a toll on your daily schedules; neither of you could stay awake during the day. When summer classes started around mid-July, you often found yourself dozing off in the middle of them, frequently waking up to the angry scolds of a palace tutor following the sharp thwack of a ruler against your desk.

One Saturday morning, you were at the breakfast table eating with the Tanthalos family, when you felt yourself start to nod off before being awoken by a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Ouch,” you exclaimed, glaring daggers at Airk, sitting next to you. “What was that for?”

He held up his hands defensively. “You fell asleep on your toast.”

Groaning, you took your napkin and wiped the butter off your cheek. Now that you were awake, you couldn’t help but notice that Kit, who usually sat across from you in a similar state of stupor, was missing.

“Where did Kit go?” You asked Airk.

He gave a half-hearted wave in the direction of the kitchen window. “It’s the first of the month. Where do you think she went?”

Sure enough, Kit had glued herself to the kitchen window, refusing to look away from the nothingness of the outside in case a messenger were to appear out of nowhere.

“Kit,” Sorsha sighed in exasperation. “Come back and finish your breakfast.”

“But dad’s letter hasn’t arrived yet!” Kit protested.

“It’s early morning, the day has just begun. I’m sure your father’s letter will arrive later, now come eat!”

Kit grumbled as she plopped herself back down at the breakfast table, wolfing down her meal in seconds flat before excusing herself back to the window.

Unfortunately, the day’s sun came and went with no letter in sight. By nightfall, Kit was still perched at the window, wringing her hands like a damp towel.

“Time for bed, Kit.” Sorsha commanded, a hint of pity in her voice.

Kit looked up at her mom with wide eyes. “What about dad’s letter?”

Sorsha sent her daughter a reassuring smile, not showing any concern. “Sometimes messengers can get lost, nothing to worry about. I’m sure his letter will turn up soon.”

Several days passed with Kit stationed at the window, growing increasingly anxious each day as she waited for something that never came. By the end of the week, still no letter had arrived, and even Sorsha’s calm composition began to falter.

“Mom,” Kit called from the window, voice coming out small and frail. “Where’s dad’s letter?”

Sorsha rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, peering out at the fading sky alongside her. “I’m not sure, Kit.”

“Is he alright?” Kit looked to her mother for reassurance, a small child desperate for a glimmer of hope.

Sorsha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned away from her daughter, letting the silence settle between them like a thick fog. And that was the moment all light died from Kit’s eyes, the innocence of her childhood crumbling before her like a glass vase shattering on tile floor.

That night, you were preparing for a restful evening when your door flung open. Startled, you whipped around to see Kit standing in your doorway. She seemed fragile, like a baby bird with a broken wing.

“Hey,” she whispered, her red, puffy eyes visible in the dim candlelight.

“Hey…” you responded, confused. Your midnight retreats had been put on hold after Kit’s attention turned towards her father’s letter.

“I’m worried about my dad…” Kit admitted in a low voice. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Her words tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with sympathy. You agreed, climbing into bed and patting the space beside you. Kit smiled gratefully and crawled onto her side, pulling the covers over the both of you. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to cram two adolescents into a twin bed, as you both had done a lot of growing since your childhood sleepover. But as Kit buried her head in your chest and snuggled up close, the proximity didn’t bother you. The warmth of your bodies merged like two flames into a single fire, becoming one and the same.

“No one knows where he is,” she mumbled into the silk of your nightgown. “Do you think something happened to him?”

You gently scratched her back and soothed her labored breaths, taking a moment to choose your words carefully. “Kit… you are one of the strongest people I know. I really, truly mean that. If your dad has even a fraction of your strength, I know there’s nothing that could stop him from seeing you again.”

Kit’s breathing evened out as your words seemed to reassure her. Her eyelids fought to stay open, a week of restless nights finally catching up to her. You bent down, planting a gentle kiss on her head before you both drifted off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sofi4v13

[makenoplans]

all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

[achaoticeternal]

Could you please write a fic where Rhaenyra’s strongdaughter gets into an argument with her mother because her mother won’t let her marry Aemond and she calls her mother a hypocrite for calling Aemond unfit to be a husband when her own husband got exiled twice. (Please also write Daemon reacting to it)

I looooove this idea! To me, it would be such a funny argument and of course, Daemon couldn't take it seriously - its just so lol enjoy this little blurb!

submit your own blurb/ headcanon requests HERE! read part two of this blurb HERE!

Targaryen Traditions

AEMOND TARGARYEN x VELARYON(STRONG)! READER word count: 900 - blurb summary: read request a/n: should I do a little continuation?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rhaenyra moved gracefully down the halls of Dragonstone, despite the unamused look that graced her face. It had barely been a full day since the daily had returned from an eventful visit in King’s Landing. Despite the typical quarrels, it now seemed her own daughter had been bewitched by one of her half-siblings… Prince Aemond Targaryen…

“Mother, I don’t understand!” You whined, following her into the great foyer of Dragonstone. 

“You will understand in time that I am right,” Rhaenyra spoke simply while crossing toward the fireplace, a hand over her belly.

“I wish to understand now because this makes no sense to me!” You quickly rebutted, “A year ago, you suggested to the Queen that I be betrothed to Aegon, who has since married Helaena. Now Aemond wishes for my hand and you deny me marrying a prince.”

“The point was never to have you simply marry a prince. If I wanted to see you married off to a man that holds such a title, I could have sent you to Dorne or Essos. To marry Aegon would have done a great many things, but most importantly keep you close to me,” Rhaenyra gazed toward you with motherly affection, “However, it seems Alicent only cares for Targaryen tradition when it serves her needs. You will not marry a second son.”

Daemon soon entered, freshly clean from the travels of the previous days. Though you respected and even somewhat cared for your stepfather, he did not replace the man that you first called father, Ser Laenor. When he entered, both you and your mother turned to him, silently begging that he pick a side. It was wishful thinking on your part since Daemon was not over fond of his nephew. Seemed to be a recurring theme…

The Rogue Prince had a smirk playing on his lips. Rhaenyra’s words were not lost on him, and even caused a chuckle from the man, “What is wrong with second sons?”

At such playful teasing, Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at the antics of her husband, “Nothing, husband. Except my daughter wishes to marry the Queen’s spiteful, second son.”

“Aemond?” He asked as he approached the princess. She nodded to his question, and then his gaze turned to you, “Aemond?”

Eagerly, you nodded. The thought crossed your mind of possibly being able to convince Daemon that your betrothal should be set with Aemond so that he could push Rhaenyra to be more willing to the idea. 

“You wish to marry to One-Eye prince?”

Of course, Daemon would tease you with such a question. As if your brothers had yet to torment you over the idea. Neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys liked the proposed betrothal between their uncle and sister. 

“It would be fulfilling my duty to the family and the realm,” You began to explain, “Jace shall sit on the throne one day, and I will be his heir until Baela gives him a child.”

Rhaenyra’s face soured at your words. She did not like how your education fueled your argument but was also proud of seeing such diplomacy from her daughter. The double-edged sword that all mothers must face with their children.

When she did not speak, you began again, “If I marry Aemond, I will also live in the Keep. I can assist Alicent and the maesters in taking care of my grandsire. You and Daemon always voice your concern for the King, so it might put you at ease.”

“You are a princess, not a caretaker—”

“Says who? You?” You were sharp with your tongue, growing tired of playing this game with your mother, “You say a princess is not a caretaker, yet you are a mother. You say I should not marry a second son, yet you did…”

“My dear, the circumstances are different,” Rhaenyra’s voice grew more stern at your pointed argument, “Aemond is your uncle!”

At such a comment, a boisterous laugh escaped your lips. It was quite out of fashion, but you could not keep it together. You looked back to your mother with a look of disbelief, gazing between Rhaenyra and Daemon, “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Confused by your statement, Rhenyra looked to Daemon. He chuckled while taking her hand within his own, intertwining their fingers, “I believe she means to call you a hypocrite.”

Rhaenya pursed her lips, looking at her husband than her daughter. Her eyes glanced over your frame, taking in all the likeness you shared. She then thought about how she acted at your age… She had married Laenor when she was just a year younger than you are now. But she would resent seeing you leave Dragonstone, no matter who the man was. 

“I’m flying to King’s Landing in two days' time on dragon back due to a previous agreement. You shall join me… and I will consider the proposition of a marriage to Aemond,” Rhaenyra spoke with a sigh.

A great smile spread across your face, elated that she would now at least consider Aemond as a suitor, “Thank you, mother! Thank you, thank you!”

“But I do not wish to hear any more of this or anything related to Aemond before our departure. Am I clear?”

“Yes, of course, mother,” You replied with a light giggle.

With a slight nod of her head, Rhaenyra dismissed you to do as you pleased. Relief washed over both of you. With quick steps, you took your leave to write a scroll to Aemond of your small successes.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

should I continue this/ make a part two?

[tinythiefalex]

Ouran Host Club but it's g/t

Chapter 2

Me: did everyone enjoy the cringey anime fic?

Y'all: No Alex, only you did.

Me: Oh. Well, that was basically my target audience anyway.

It's here babes! I was finally able to write the first part of the Ouran fic I've been wanting to make! Basically, it's the same as the show, except everyone but Haruhi is a giant!

HEAVILY inspired by @friendlyfoxpal ‘s Ouran artwork. It’s so cute and I love it so much!

Here's the first part, it's basically just an intro to the premise, next part will be posted on Wednesday!

_______________________________________________________

Ouran Academy. The most prestigious school in the area, full of filthy rich, young people with way too much time on their hands. Haruhi, as a lower-middle-class citizen, had enough audacity to even think she could attend this elite school. But this school wasn’t just a rich kid's playground, it had the best education programs in the country, so Haruhi was determined to go. On top of being a “commoner” though, Haruhi was also a human, and Ouran Academy was a giant’s school. 

Honestly, Haruhi was surprised that the school’s headmaster even let her take the scholarship exam, but after acing that, here she was, in the headmaster's office, one week before the school year started. 

“I have to say, I’m impressed, Ms. Fujioka.” The headmaster said with a smile. “Your test scores are some of the bests I’ve ever seen.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Haruhi was polite, but inside she wondered what this meeting was for. She had already gotten her acceptance letter in the mail and completed all of the paperwork. Did the headmaster just want to greet her?

As if reading her mind, the headmaster spoke up again, “I bet you’re wondering why I called you here. Well, even though your test scores are remarkable, there is still the problem of a human attending this academy. Forgive me if this is rude, but you’re a little outsized here, Ms. Fujioka.”

Haruhi knew all of that. “Yes, sir. I am aware.” She knew this was a giant’s school before she even applied, but it’s the best one for her future, so what’s the problem? 

“Well, Miss, tell me, just how do you expect to get around the campus? You cannot walk that far, and vehicles are strictly forbidden on school grounds.”

Haruhi…honestly hadn’t thought about that. “W-well I…” He wasn’t going to revoke her acceptance for this, was he?

Surprisingly, the headmaster smiled. “Do not worry, Ms. Fujioka, I had an idea that I wanted to discuss with you. You see, the son of one of my colleagues also attends this academy, his name is Tamaki Suoh. If it is alright with you, I can arrange for him to help you around school. To be a sort of escort for you, per se.”

Haruhi wasn’t thrilled at the idea of being carried around by a giant, but if the headmaster thought it was necessary, “Alright. Thank you, sir.” 

“Of course,” The headmaster stood from his desk. “If that is all, then we’re done here. I look forward to seeing you during this year, Ms. Fujioka.”

The next morning, Haruhi stood outside of the school’s gate. Its needlessly fancy gates, she thought. Looking at the building again, with its bright pink architecture and massive rose bushes, the gates matched. This entire school is so pretentious. She had been instructed to arrive very early and wait on the giant upperclassman who had been assigned to her, so no other students had arrived yet.

Just then, she heard a voice from above. “Hey there! You must be the honor student I’ve heard so much about!” Haruhi looked up, way, way up, at the giant that approached her. She felt her face turn white. With the headmaster, the size difference wasn’t so bad, since she was standing on his desk, about chest height to the man. This was the first time she had ever seen a giant from ground level. She lived in a strictly human neighborhood and had only gone to human schools. This guy's height was almost unfathomable. 

Thankfully, the giant knelt down to be closer to her level. “I’m Tamaki Suoh,” he said, holding his hand palm-up in front of her in a clear invitation, “and you are?” 

Trying to not stare at the massive hand, Haruhi looked up at Tamaki, “I’m Haruhi Fujioka,” she replied, stepping onto his hand as calmly as she could. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tamaki was fascinated by the feeling of tiny shoes walking onto his hand. He rarely spoke to humans, much less came in physical contact with one. So cute! He thought, unable to keep the awe off of his face as he stood up. Remembering his manners, he replied, “It’s very nice to meet you too, young man.” 

Haruhi stumbled when the hand lifted, but it was surprisingly steady enough to not knock her over. She barely registered the ‘young man’ comment, not particularly caring. Although it was strange to think that she was so small to Tamaki, he couldn’t see what gender she was. That’s probably not the only reason, she thought. She had very short hair, glasses covering her eyes, and she wasn’t wearing a school uniform, instead opting for a comfy shirt and pants. Haruhi couldn’t blame him for not being able to tell.

As soon as he was back up on his feet, Tamaki cupped a second hand around the one holding Haruhi. He’s so tiny, Tamaki thought. And yes, with both of the giant’s hands around the human, Haruhi looked very tiny indeed. A fall would be disastrous. Pushing that worry out of his mind, Tamaki headed towards Haruhi’s classroom, giving her a little tour on the way and explaining all he could about the school. By the time they got to Haruhi’s class, other students had started to arrive, filing in and taking their seats. 

Setting Haruhi down on an empty desk, Tamaki smiled down at her. “Welp, this is your class, Haruhi. I’ll be back later to take you to the next one. Have fun, little guy!” And with that, Tamaki was gone. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Class after class of Haruhi mostly being ignored, to her surprise. She didn’t know if that was out of lack of caring, or if the other students just didn’t notice her there. Either way, she didn’t care, she was just focused on her studies. Tamaki, despite coming off as a bit obnoxious, was also surprisingly reliable. Every class he was there right on time to help Haruhi to wherever she needed to go. She didn’t speak to him much, but she wasn’t sure he even noticed her silence. He easily filled each walk with stories and tangents of his own.

At the end of the day, Haruhi expected Tamaki to drop her off at the school's gates, so she could make her way home, but it seemed Tamaki had other plans. “Oh my, I don’t know how I didn’t think of this before! Since classes are over for the day, how would you like to see my host club, Haruhi?” 

“Your…host club?” In all honesty, Haruhi hadn’t really been listening to most of the things Tamaki said in between classes, so she was not sure if he ever mentioned a club, much less a host club. What kind of high school even had a host club?

“Of course! I’m sure you’ve noticed my jaw-dropping good looks, and you know, beauty must be shared with the world! So, I created a host club full of handsome young men with too much time on their hands to entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands,” He struck a short pose, before smiling back down at Haruhi. “Who knows, maybe one day, you could become a host too!”

Haruhi laughed awkwardly at that. “Yeah, no, I don’t think that’d be for me, senpai.”

Tamaki shrugged. “Well, either way, you must meet the others, I’m sure they will just adore you, little one!” Haruhi grimaced a bit at those words, but as of right now, her life was in Tamaki’s hands, literally. While he was holding her, wherever he went, she had no choice but to go. 

A music room? Haruhi stared up at the sign above the door Tamaki was opening. Why would a club like this be in a music room? 

Inside the room were five more giants. One of the giants, with dark hair and glasses, typing on a computer, immediately looked up when Tamaki entered. “Tamaki. There you are.” he said flatly. Two redheaded twins spoke up next, “Hey boss! We were wondering where you were!” 

Tamaki just smiled at them. “Sorry, I had to make a small detour” He looked down at Haruhi with a grin. She rolled her eyes at the pun. 

The first one to notice her was a blonde boy, who seemed much too young to be in highschool. “Who’s that, Tama-chan?” 

“I am very glad you asked, Honey-Senpai!” Tamaki exclaimed, holding his hand out in a princely pose so that everyone could see the little human. “Everyone, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Haruhi Fujioka, the honor student!” 

Haruhi felt her shoulders stiffen under the scrutiny of so many giants. She tried to stand as straight as she could. “Um, hello, everyone.” she said with a small wave. 

The young boy’s eyes lit up, “Oh he’s so cute! Isn’t he adorable, Takashi?” Haruhi looked up at the tall man by the young boy’s side. He was easily the tallest giant she had seen that day. The man didn’t respond past a small nod. 

Tamaki walked closer to the pair and held Haruhi to the young boy’s eye level so he could see her better. “Haruhi, this is Honey-Senpai and Mori-Senpai.” Haruhi barely got out a small “Hello,” before Tamaki moved on to the twins. Haruhi noticed he sounded considerably less enthusiastic when he said, “These two trouble-makers are Hikaru and Kaoru.” The two stare down at her with mischievous grins. “Aww, look at the little guy.” “What a cute little plaything.” they each say. The way they were talking about her made Haruhi a bit nervous.

“And last but not least,” Tamaki said as he moved to the final member, setting Haruhi down on the tall table he was seated at, “this is my second-in-command, Kyoya!” The dark-haired man turned away from his computer to look Haruhi up and down with a flat look. She pushed her nerves down and waved, “Hello, it’s nice to- 

“So, I assume you are the reason for Tamaki’s tardiness today?” Kyoya interrupted.

Haruhi, startled out of her greeting, stutters, “O-oh, I uh…”

Tamaki jumped in, “Kyoya, that was very rude. This man is our honored guest! I have been assigned to help him around the school grounds, it is not his fault that his class is further from the club room than mine.”

Kyoya just hummed and stared at Haruhi once more. Haruhi felt her hands fidget at her sides for a moment from the tension. Kyoya looked back up at Tamaki. 

“And how much is Haruhi paying you for this?” he asked, despite knowing fully well that a little commoner like Haruhi couldn’t afford to pay Tamaki anything substantial. Haruhi was taken aback for a moment.  

“P-paying? I- I can’t… the headmaster assigned him to me, I wasn’t aware that I had to-” 

“I see,” Kyoya interrupts. “Well, be that as it may, Tamaki is our most popular host. His involvement in this club is crucial to its success. Taking you to your classes eats into his day and takes away time he could be focusing on the host club and our guests. Just today, bringing you here took away 15 minutes he could have been devoting to the club. Are you prepared to refund any losses his absence may cause?” 

“I-uh-I-” Haruhi stuttered.

 “I didn’t think so. In that case, maybe we can come to an agreement on another way for you to repay Tamaki for his time.” 

“Now wait a minute!” Haruhi pointed a tiny finger at Kyoya. “I never asked for an escort! I don’t need him to-” 

“You’re here on a scholarship, are you not?” Kyoya interrupted again, Haruhi really wished he’d stop doing that. “And that scholarship requires you to stay at the top of your class. Tell me, how do you plan on doing that if you are unable to get to your classes on time in the first place? This school is far too big for you to traverse on your own.” Kyoya had her there. Hell, she was barely taller than Tamaki’s finger, it would take Haruhi the entire class time just to get to the right room. 

Tamaki’s eyes lit up as he connected the dots that Kyoya was laying out. “Oh, that’s right! You need a way to pay me for my services, and I would love a new little member for our guests to fawn over. So, it seems there’s only one thing to do.” 

“Yes,” Kyoya joined in. “Under normal circumstances we would have you work off this debt by doing chores and running errands for us, but since your small stature prevents that, becoming a new source of entertainment for our guests should suffice.” 

Haruhi did not like the sound of that. Then the twins jumped in.

“Oh, they would love that!” “And we would love to have a new little plaything too! What do you say, doll?” 

Haruhi hated the sound of that even more.

“I mean,” said Kyoya, “it’s not like you really have a choice here, right?” The smile on his face was far too cheerful for what he was implying.

Haruhi was trapped.

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 2 (Larissa/Reader)

Hello everyone, here's the second installment to this little fic. Writing has been slow-going but the kind comments I got on chapter 1 both here and on AO3 were a great motivation to put in the work when I had the time and brainpower to do so. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature Tags: Alcohol consumption, Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Seduction, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader, Power Imbalance.

AO3 link in title below

< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (tbc)

Chapter 2 - Private Booth

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.” She murmured in your ear and you heard a breathy laugh exiting your mouth, feeling as if it came from miles away. 

You weren’t sure how the evening had evolved to this point, if you had to be perfectly honest. You were sure you both had been the picture of professionality at the start of your dinner together, sitting primly at the table in the private booth, ordering a light meal and talking about lesson plans and your previous work experiences.

You had been nervous, but except for the unusual setting, it hadn’t been that different from countless other meetings you’d had with principals. And, you mused as you took a bite of your salad, to be honest you appreciated having this conversation over food for once instead than in a stuffy office. 

Was it some sort of cultural difference that outcasts had? Or was it a peculiarity of the woman sitting in front of you? She seemed like someone who was more than able to disregard rules if she wanted to. 

You found yourself liking that, despite your usual aversion for rule breaking.

Then…then Larissa (she had asked you to call her Larissa at some point, you were sure of that) Larissa had offered to share a bottle of wine “to toast together at a fruitful collaboration” and you had had half a mind to turn the offer down, but found yourself agreeing. Why the hell not? It had been ages since you drank some good wine, and your principal looked like the kind of woman who’d only choose good alcohol. 

“You have great taste,” you had commented, sipping on your first glass, and it had been at that moment that you had felt the energy in the booth starting to shift. She had dabbed her mouth on her napkin, and let her eyes roam over your figure for a handful of seconds more than it was polite to do before replying, “Oh of course. I very rarely lose my time when it’s not worth it.” Her lips had curved up in a smirk and you had had to take another sip of that wine to give time to your suddenly galloping heart to slow down a bit. Surely she was still talking about the wine, wasn’t she?

But then the conversation had moved on and you thought you had imagined the flirty undertone. Surely she wouldn’t be the type to do something like that, would she? Even if you hadn’t actively sought out gossip, surely you would have heard if Nevermore’s principal was a serial seducer, right? 

Larissa had been an extremely pleasant conversationalist, and often you found yourself invested in the latest anecdote from one of her travels, or her opinion on one subject or another. You laughed at her recounting of the antics of her students, and were amazed at the lavish traditions of Nevermore that she insisted on educating you on. 

You could have listened to her talk all night long, looking at how her face danced with emotions, how the passion she had for her job and her loyalty to her school shone in her voice as well as her eyes. And the way she ran her tongue against her teeth every now and then had you completely mesmerized. You were hanging on her lips and had given up feeling self conscious about it. You wanted to know more about this mysterious lady. You wanted to know all that she’d be willing to tell you.

And you were acutely aware that you still hadn’t discovered what exactly had happened that had left her for several months on sick leave. The students talked of an attack of undead  to the school but you were sure those were exaggerations, and that there was a less…fanciful explanation. Teenagers are known for making a big deal out of small mundanities. Even taking that into account, it seemed like mysteries surrounded this woman, wrapping around her like the subtle yet lingering scent of her perfume. 

“You smell amazing.” You had blurted out, and almost clapped a hand over your own mouth, horrified at your sudden boldness. That was not something to say to your boss who apparently still had the power to fire you if she somehow found you lacking! 

But she hadn’t bristled, nor had she seemed in any way angry or offended. She had simply chuckled lightly, and busied herself with swirling wine inside her glass with slow, hypnotic movements.

“Thank you, dear. It’s Ambre Nuit, by Dior, obviously.”

“...Obviously.” You had parroted back, even though you knew nothing about perfumes and even less about Dior. Your eyes were glued to her hand, still cradling the bowl of the wine glass. You had not noticed until now just how long and tapered and beautiful her fingers were. How effortlessly they curled on the glass shoulder to loosely swirl its contents. A part of you wondered how those hands would feel on your body.

“You know? You could smell it even better if you came to sit beside me…there’s plenty of space on this bench…” her voice had trailed off, and it might have been the wine coursing in your system, but this time you felt like you could almost taste the promises in her voice. 

And that’s how you had found yourself squeezed besides her on the bench, your thigh pressed against hers, the fabric of her dress and of your trousers the only thing separating your skin from making contact with hers. You were acutely aware of how dimmed the lights had been in the private booth, and how the waiters had stopped coming around after they had delivered your desserts. 

A perfect setup, suggested the romantic part of your brain, a part that was often overlooked and laid dormant in the day to day routine.

A perfect trap, countered the more cynical part, who couldn't help but wonder how many times had the beautiful woman beside you put on this show for her latest prey. 

It just all seemed so effortless for her. She mixed her flirting (it had to be flirting by now, right?) with more easygoing topics, she kept topping your glass off with that lovely wine, as well as drinking just as much herself. One part red flag, one part irresistible temptation.  

And it was at that point that she had leaned over, and you had felt her breath hot on your ear, and you were sure you had drank way too much wine because just that little puff of air made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your head spin. 

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.”

“I must be dreaming” you said before your common sense could stop you, the tingling of your giggle still in your throat.

But not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined how her hand felt as it fell on your thigh, light as a feather, but making your skin burn white hot even through the fabric.. 

“Well I suppose I’ll have to pinch you then.”

---------------

Want more? Here's my fanfiction masterlist

Taglist: @barbarasstar @peggycarter3 @aemilia19

[scmg11]

KATE BISHOP x READER

SEX EDUCATION (PART 3)

A/N: HELLO PEOPLE! I MISSED YOU SO SO MUCH! I am so sorry for disappearing again, but college is so freaking hard!

Since I took a bit of time off studying to relax a bit, I took advantage of it with proofreading a few stories I already finished writing, so here's a new chapter for you!

I want to be honest, I wrote this chapter probably around 5 or 6 months ago and I seriously forgot how long I made it 😂 so I may got carried away a bit, I think?!

Without further ado, ENJOY! ❤️

Sending so much love to all of you patiently waiting for my update, I love you ❤️

[1/3]

-

Summary: Y/N and Kate are in San Francisco on a school trip, but this won't stop for some shenanigans, will it?

Warnings: smut. The fluffiest smut I ever wrote.

Word count: 25293 words.

-

"Okay guys, I know the bus trip here was tiring, so you have around 5 hours to rest a bit before we are meeting back here for dinner."

Y/N waited for all her students to take the elevator and go to their respective rooms before smiling at Kate when they were the only ones left. She pressed the elevator button and waited for it to arrive, the loud ‘ding’ echoing in the oddly quiet lobby a bit later and both walked in, before pressing the button to their floor and waited for the elevator’s doors to close to assess the elephant in the room, "did that really happen or did I lost my mind and imagined Yelena and Cassie here?"

"I wish it was the latter, except you loosing your mind babe of course. Anyway, no, you didn’t imagine them. They are actually here."

"I guess we underestimated their ‘we wish to be there with you guys’ too much." Kate chuckled as she wrapped her head around the absurdity of it while staring at the numbers on the elevator’s display as it ascended to their floor.

"Yeah." Y/N sighed out loud, thinking about everything over into her head and massaging her temples gently to relieve a bit the incoming headache, "I also can’t believe Maria gave them the go-ahead to be here!"

"Well, they could’ve easily just ignored anything she told them and came here on their own."

"I don’t know why but it seems something they would do." Y/N and Kate chuckled at the accurate possibility while shaking their heads fondly at their best friends’ antics.

They both exited the elevator as soon as they heard the loud ‘ding’ and the doors opened and walked towards their designated room, Y/N opening it and moving to the side to let Kate enter it first, smiling fondly at the archer’s ‘thank you’ as she passed by her, before doing the same and closing the door behind her. "Hello lovebirds."

"Holy shit-YELENA!" Kate exclaimed as Y/N and her jumped up in fright at the Russian making her presence known by sliding out of her hiding place in the en-suite with a smug grin on her face, before clenching their fists and got ready to fight their intruder. "Babe, you can relax, it’s just Yelena and Cassie."

"I know, that’s why I didn’t move." Y/N let out through gritted teeth and relaxed only when Yelena laughed heartily at the joke and walked towards her to hug her tightly with her still in her combat position.

"C’mon Y/N Y/L/N I know you want to hug me back. Don’t deny it." Y/N sighed loudly before caving in and relaxing her hands she had been keeping in closed fists between their bodies and slung them around Yelena’s torso to hug her back.

"What about me?" Kate asked with a pout at Yelena after embracing Cassie when she saw Yelena walk past her and sit on their bed with a smug grin on her lips and a totally not innocent glint in her eyes.

"No hugs for you. You tend to cling onto people when you hug them."

"You are making it seem like it’s a bad thing!" Kate countered back with a toothy smile before rushing towards Yelena when she sighed loudly with a fond roll of her eyes as she opened her arms to silently give Kate her permission to hug her.

"Ugh." Yelena groaned loudly when Kate crashed over her body forcefully and made them both tumble back on the mattress, "Kate Bishop, always so gracious." Yelena teased Kate as she caressed her back softly before feeling other two bodies slump onto Kate’s back and consequently crashing down on her body, making her groan a bit at the added weight on herself.

"She loves us." Y/N told Cassie and smirked widely when Yelena groaned at them to get off of her, staying for just a few more seconds still before moving away and sitting on the bed comfortably with her friends and girlfriend. "So, we have to assume you guys are here without Maria knowing, right?"

"It will come out as shocking, but she actually knows we’re here." Cassie answered with a bright smile, lifting her hand up to high-five Yelena and making Y/N and Kate chuckle at their childish behavior, but also smiling fondly at them for finally bonding.

"Yeah, she allowed us to stay here with you guys while you are on this field trip." Yelena explained further as she shrugged nonchalantly, both Y/N and Kate eyeing the two blondes suspiciously.

"That’s it?" Y/N lifted her right eyebrow up in question, meeting Kate’s eyes for a brief second to find the same amount of wariness and doubt in her beautiful ocean eyes before staring Yelena down with an hard gaze and an unamused expression glued on her features. She watched as Yelena met her gaze head on, making Y/N smile warmly and shake her head at her knowing she would never make Yelena cave in and confess her secrets that easily since she was a Black Widow and had to endure a really tough training. But she knew Yelena would never lie, that was one of the many beautiful qualities she had, among being a loyal friend, a literal puppy that needs to be protected despite her ‘I’m a badass that never smiled’ façade and so pure of heart both Y/N and Kate, alongside the other Avengers, found really shocking to witness after all the atrocities both Yelena and Natasha had to endure, but neither of them lost their heart and somehow made it grow ten sizes as they protected it at all costs. "So you are telling me neither of you bugged her that much to the point of her caving in and sending you here?"

"No." Cassie answered right away as she avoided both Y/N’s and Kate’s hard gazes and sighed out loud when Yelena answered Y/N’s question at the same time as her.

"Yes. And it worked perfectly! Can you believe she actually lasted only a full day? I usually need a few days to convince Kate and she is the one that caves easily the most to any kind of request!"

"That’s not true! I only do that with Y/N whenever she ask me something." Kate countered back with a frown before smiling at Y/N lovingly, who awed at her and leaned over Yelena to reach to Kate sat on her left and pecked her lips softly.

"Ohw that was so cute!" Cassie exclaimed with literally heart eyes while Yelena rolled her eyes and pushed the two apart forcefully with her hands on their foreheads.

"Ugh, get a room." Yelena groaned before dodging both Y/N’s and Kate’s punch with a small laugh.

"Well if I remember correctly, we are in our room." Y/N answered with a smug smirk and watched as Yelena rolled her eyes and grunted out as she waved her off before crossing her arms petulantly.

"Wait hold on, speaking of which, how did you manage to book a room together?"

-

"And we’re finally alone!" Y/N groaned and leaned her back on the door after closing it, before humming in appreciation when Kate leaned into her body and cuddled her.

"An entire day without doing this." Kate trailed off to pull her face away from its hiding spot in the crook of Y/N’s neck and laid a small peck on her lips, both girl humming in appreciation when both their bodies warmed instantly as a comforting, loving blanket wrapped over them.

"I missed your beautiful lips." Y/N murmured on Kate’s mouth after pulling away from another loving peck, before leaning right back to kiss Kate slowly and languidly. "You are so beautiful baby."

"Look who’s talking." Kate giggled cutely when Y/N bracketed her face and squished her cheeks, taking a few seconds to admire the adorable view before laying another gentle peck on her lips standing out from Y/N squishing her face. "I love you."

"I love you." Kate parroted with a toothy grin that Y/N was sure was outshining the sun and that was so contagious that she couldn’t help but mirror right away. They had never been so happy.

"Where are Yelena and Cassie?" Kate asked curiously after sharing another cute and loving peck with Y/N, pulling away just a bit to give them the opportunity to talk freely. They stared intently and lovingly into their eyes for a few moments, nuzzling their noses from time to time and smiling sweetly at one another as soft giggles left their lips at how happy they both felt with one another before Kate kept going, "we lost them before dinner with the class. And as much as I love them and I love them staying here, I don’t want them to pop up out of nowhere while I’m spending quality time with my girlfriend. They tend to have a really bad timing and I don’t want to be rude or something like that if they pop out of nowhere. I just want to stay with you alone without any interruption or annoying kids wanting to play stupid games with their favorite teacher."

"Damn, someone is a bit annoyed. Upset. Irritated even." Y/N chuckled as she pushed a strand of black hair behind Kate’s ear when it fell on her face after she jutted her chin out petulantly. Kate then sighed loudly while leaning her cheek on Y/N’s palm, that stood still waiting near her face after pushing her strand of hair back to see if the archer would lean into her touch and smiling brightly as her stomach erupted in wild butterflies when Kate actually did that, before turning her head around and laying a soft kiss on Y/N’s palm’s skin, making both their stomaches flip over themselves at the cute, adorable and loving gesture of her kiss.

"I’m not, I swear."

"Well you just called your classmates annoying when they all love you so so much. Maybe just as much as I love you." Y/N smiled sweetly and tenderly down at Kate and pecked her lips quickly when she saw a bright grin took over the archer’s frown she had been having on since she stated Yelena and Cassie have a really bad timing and that her classmates are annoying, especially for wanting to play with Y/N. Even if it was something not every student would do since they were talking about playing with a teacher, Y/N was their favorite teacher, the whole school’s favorite teacher and despite everyone wanting to spend time with Y/N annoyed her because it takes her away from her alone time with Y/N, it actually warmed her heart, knowing Y/N being so loved by others.

"Ohw babe! Stop I’m blushing!" Kate giggled cutely when Y/N grinned back at her and peppered her face with tender kisses. "And y’know, they’re not annoying. It’s just that we spend very little time together together. Most of the time we have to act like we don’t know each other."

"I know how you feel babe. But we have a job. We just need to put up this act for a bit more. But just like you, I want to cherish every single moment we spend alone because I want to savor every aspect of being your girlfriend, babe."

"Me too, baby." Kate leaned over and kissed Y/N sweetly, her hands bracketing her face gently as she leaned her body more into Y/N’s one, completely pining her onto the door’s wooden surface. "As soon as we complete this mission, I will treat you to a real date. As much as I love our cozy dates in our house, I want to spoil you by taking you to fancy places and laugh at snotty people flaunting their money during my mother’s boring parties. Or stealing- or borrowing, like I like to call it, my mom’s private jet to take you to Paris or Rome and have the most romantic date ever there as we stroll down their streets, hands in hands." Kate explained as her eyes shined brightly with all the love she had for the Y/H/C girl and stared tenderly at her.

"Really?" Y/N felt tears prickle behind her Y/E/C pools, watching as Kate nodded gingerly with a sweet smile before leaning over to kiss her hard on her lips, "fuck- I love you so much."

"Just as much as I love you, baby."

"How about we change into our pajamas and cuddle on the bed?" Y/N suggested with a big smile after sharing another peck with Kate and watched as she mirrored her grin and nodded before laying another sweet and tender kiss on her lips, making both their stomaches erupt in wild butterflies as their heartbeats raced wildly into their ribcages. They enjoyed a bit more of the cozy bubble wrapped around them in their embrace for a bit more, hugging each other closer to just exist together and nuzzling their noses together gently as soft giggles left their kiss swollen lips and their chests filled with a giddy and happy feeling swirling around there. They had never been so happy with someone else and never felt so full and understood by someone else in their lives, "we can catch up on Only Murders In The Building as we just get cozy in that giant bed!"

"Oh yes! I need to know who is the killer! We are just a few episodes in the first season and I’m already completely absorbed in it!"

"Me too! Ugh and can we talk about those three idiots? I want them in my life to entertain me!" Y/N added as she pushed herself off the door when Kate disentangled her body from Y/N’s one and grabbed her hand to lead them towards their suitcases to grab their pajamas and changed in front one another.

"We already have them babe, their names are Yelena, America and Cassie." Kate pulled a joke as she slipped her jeans off and folded them neatly before placing them on the armchair on her left, "well we also have Kamala, Shuri and Peter." Kate snorted at her own joke and lifted her shirt up her body, leaving her in her underwear as she folded her clothes.

"You’re right babe, we are basically surrounded by idiots! Wait- does that makes us idiots too?" Y/N asked as she thought over her question and turned around after taking off her own pants and blouse, before gulping loudly and forgetting everything at once when she was met with the heavenly sight of Kate’s round, full, firm but soft ass in a pair of blue, lacy panties, now sticking out a bit more due to her bending over her suitcase to place her t-shirt on top of it.

"I don’t know, I guess? I mean I like to call us idiots whose care about each other. So yeah, we are idiots too. To some extent, at least." Kate turned around with a giggle as she was finished and gasped gently under her breath when she is met with Y/N’s hungry eyes staring at her ass before taking advantage of her turning around to sweep her them up and down her body and drinking her in slowly.

"You are a piece of art baby. The most beautiful masterpiece existing." Y/N spoke out after a few more seconds of ogling Kate’s body, before meeting her eyes and smiling lovingly at her, "sorry for interrupting you, go on."

"You didn’t interrupt me babe. You just gave me a boost of confidence. Damn!" Kate exclaimed with a wide grin as she walked over Y/N, placed her hands gently on her hips as Y/N circled her own hips and then pecked her lips tenderly. "And y’know, since we are talking about masterpieces, we need to talk about you then. My gorgeous baby." They shared another cute peck before putting their pajamas on and settling comfortably on the bed, Y/N immediately opening her arms and welcoming Kate that immediately slotted into them and cuddled her, both letting out hums of approval at the warmth surrounding them instantly.

"How was spending some time with your classmates?"

"Pretty good. Like I said they are not annoying. They are cool. I wish I had friends like them in high school, we have a lot of fun."

"Why? How were your friends like in high school?"

"Annoying and spoiled rotten." Kate stated plainly as she rolled her eyes, making Y/N laugh softly under her breath at her girlfriend’s gesture, before groaning and grunting loudly as she recalled her time spent with who she used to call ‘friends’ and shivered with a grimace before continuing, "they are like all rich people. They are always thinking about themselves and that’s what they always did and always will do. If you had a problem, they would have faked being interested in your problem for just a few seconds before disregarding you and your problems and start talking about their new highest score in polo or showing off their new ring or t-shirt that costed more than a giant apartment in Manhattan!"

"Uh ew, that’s disgusting!" Y/N grimaced alongside Kate as she shook her head disapprovingly.

"The same went with when talking about important charities where it was imperative donating to help people out. They just laughed me off saying they would have donated 100.000 dollars or so before telling me to shut up about the importance on donating and helping people out."

"Kate that’s awful!" Y/N admitted as she caressed her left cheek tenderly, "how did you put up with them?"

"I didn’t, most of the time. I usually spent my days doing archery or martial arts training. I only hung out with them when my mom forced me to go out and be a teenager." Kate admitted, looking into Y/N’s eyes as she played with a strand of hair and rolled it between her fingers. A few seconds of silence passed by them just exiting quietly before Kate’s gentle laugh stopped it.

"What?" Y/N smiled lovingly at Kate’s giggles and felt her eyes literally shine with love as she stared at the archer’s beautiful features adoringly.

"I was just thinking about them also being homophobic as fuck."

"Really?" Y/N asked with a bit of worry in her tone, not really wanting to know if Kate was bullied for being who she was by her shitty old friends, but listened nonetheless.

"Yeah. A lot of them, along with a lot of old rich people, always thought about being gay was just a phase or something that would not look good in the public eye-."

"Are we still in the 1800s?" Y/N interjected with a scoff as she rolled her eyes annoyingly, making Kate laugh gently before laying a soft peck on her lips and switching her frown back into a small grin, then pulling away and continuing her with train of thoughts.

"That’s what I always thought! Anyway, I was just lucky my mom always accepted me for who I was. I remember the day I came out to her. I was super stressed and I was ready to pass out. She obviously started to worry and when I just blurted out I was gay instead of my prepared speech, she simply smiled tenderly at me and told me ‘oh honey, I already knew that. I’m glad you finally found the courage to tell me.’"

"Oh my god! I love her!"

"I was shocked! I stared at her for like- a solid two minutes as she just smiled at me. Anyway, she always supported me and alway put everyone in their spot when they tried to denigrate gay people. But that’s not the point." Kate shook her head to get back on track on what she was trying to tell Y/N, "like I said, being gay wasn’t well seen by snotty, rich people and although my friends oddly accepted me, I had to endure more times than I could count them making really tacky jokes about gay people."

"Can I know their names so I can hunt them down and punch them in the faces one by one?" Y/N interjected once again with her blood boiling over at those assholes Kate called friends as she hugged Kate closer, making Kate chuckle under her breath at her request.

"Next time my mom will invite me to one of her charity events, we are going to attend it so you can punch them in the face while I will enjoy the show." Kate promised with a sweet tone and a bright smile, making Y/N mirror her grin, then pecking her lips lovingly before pulling away to keep going with her story and train of thoughts. "Anyway, those things never hurt me since the girls that made those bad jokes were the same girls I was fucking in their cars or beds when no one was home."

"Oh my god! Are you kidding?" Y/N widened her eyes in shock and slacked her jaw while opening her mouth in an ‘O’ shape as she wrapped her head around Kate’s statement, before laughing loudly in shocked amusement.

"Nope." Kate stated as she dragged the ‘p’ out with a wide, smug smile and a mischievous wiggle of her eyebrows before continuing, "all the time the boys joked about gays, stating that, and I quote, ‘lesbians didn’t know how to make a girl come’. And while all the girls I fucked laughed nervously with nods, I was just staying in the corner in silence, smirking smugly at them. They would always meet my eyes a brief second before avoiding my gaze distressed as they fidgeted in their spots uncomfortably."

"Babe that’s just hilarious! I would have payed to see their reactions."

"They were priceless, let me tell you. There was one time where one of they guys was bragging about licking a pussy and even if it was his first time, he vaunted he did an amazing job. I was just smiling brightly as I stared at the girl he ‘did an amazing job’ on avoiding my gaze. The same girl that called me as soon as he left and begged me to make her come since he couldn’t do it and just faked cumming." Kate puffed her chest out and tilted her chin up proudly as a wide grin settled on her features, watching Y/N gasp in shock as she slapped her shoulder repeatedly in disbelief.

"Oh my god!"

"Just to clarify those two weren’t together. They just had occasional sex. I do not stand cheating." Kate stated as she nuzzled their noses together, "anyway, the word spread faster than those girl’s legs when they were with me between the girls of the group and I soon found myself fucking them in their cars, in their beds, once even in one of the girl’s dad’s office."

"I didn’t know you were a womanizer Kate Bishop." Y/N teased Kate as she caressed her shoulder gently with her pointer finger and smirked widely when Kate scoffed and rolled her eyes in fake annoyance.

"I’m was not. I was just having fun. I had the opportunity to boost my confidence in my sex skills when they were screaming how good I was making them feel while also relieving some stress from college and competitions with sex. Killing two birds with one stone."

"Hm, now I’m jealous Miss Bishop." Y/N teased as she leaned over and nibbled on Kate’s soft, plump bottom lip before biting down on it gently and taking advantage of Kate’s lips parting to release a small moan at her gesture to slip her tongue past them and lick her mouth’s every nook and cranny.

"It happened like 5 years ago babe. And it was just meaningless sex. You don’t need to worry."

"Well I’m still jealous. I want you all to myself."

"And you have me all to yourself. My heart, my body and my mind are yours baby. All yours." Kate reassured Y/N on her lips before pecking them repeatedly and making Y/N giggle lovingly into her mouth.

"Just like my mind, my body and my heart are yours baby."

-

"Good morning class!"

"Good morning Miss. Williams!" The whole class greeted Y/N in an happy choir and chuckled when Kate just grunted at her in response.

"It seems like Laura isn’t a morning person." Y/N noted out loud, making the whole class laugh heartily at her joke.

"Nope, I hate getting up early. I just want to sleep until noon, is that too much to ask?" The entire class nodded with a few sounds of agreement and Y/N rolled her eyes fondly at them with a small shake of her head.

"You would loose the aquarium if you sleep until noon."

"And we don’t want that, do we Miss Williams?" Y/N closed her eyes when an hand landed forcefully on her shoulder and what she clearly knew was a fake American accent reached her ears.

"No of course not."

"Are you joining us Miss Chloe and Miss Emma?" Amy asked gently as she eyed the two under cover Avengers enthusiastically.

"Oh please we’re not some old, boring teachers like Miss Williams here. You can call us just Chloe and Emma." Yelena told the teens as she stared at them with wide and eager eyes.

"Oh please, you’re more boring than every boring teacher." Y/N scoffed with a roll of her eyes, making everyone else laugh at her gesture as Yelena just smirked at her, "besides not all teachers are boring. I’m not, right guys?"

"Don’t try to corrupt them with that annoying happy face." Yelena place her hand on Y/N’s face and pushed forcefully like she liked to do all the time to mess with her, making her stumble a bit before regarding the teenagers staring at them in amusement with a grin, "it’s okay guys you can tell the truth."

"Stop harassing them and especially me!" Y/N huffed out as she pushed Yelena’s hand away from her face, staring at her down with an hard gaze before a big, bright grin appeared on her features when Yelena quickly placed her hand back on Y/N’s face and pushed her once more to stress Y/N’s words some more and chuckled alongside her, Cassie, Kate and the whole class, minus Mr. Wright that was nowhere to be found, maybe already inside making his own tour without waiting for everyone else, at the two best friends’ banter. Everyone noticed how the two of them seemed so close and that they loved each other truly, something that was really difficult to find nowadays. They shared a really deep, strong bond that everyone, especially the teens looking intently at their banter were really eager to also have in their lives. Kate stared at her girlfriend and her best friend joke around like they were two siblings warmed her heart to no end and smiled at her tenderly when the girl met her gaze after getting rid of Yelena’s hand again and mirrored her grin before dodging Yelena’s hand and pushing her away when she tried to attack her again. The archer really wanted to join their banter and when she noticed Cassie wanted that too, she nodded at her to give a silent permission and to give her a free pass to join the two best friends joking around childishly to make their banter ten times funnier than it already was. So Cassie nodded at Kate back and walked towards them two girls still fooling around before joining Yelena’s side and pushing Y/N on her left shoulder as Yelena pushed Y/N on her right shoulder, making Y/N widen her eyes in shock as she opened her mouth in an ‘O’ shape in bewilderment, making Kate wish ever more to join the banter in that moment. "You. Didn’t."

"Oh I did. And we can all confirm your face was priceless, right guys?" Cassie asked in amusement as she swept her gaze all over the teen’s eyes and watched as mirth dusted over their features as they tried to prevent laughs to leave their mouths.

"Oh no, don’t you guys dare to answer or as soon as we are back home I’ll make you guys write a 100.000 words essay about stimulating a vagina to make a woman reach her orgasm!" Y/N lifted a finger up in warning when she noticed a few guys and girls, Kate among them, opened their mouths to respond to Cassie’s question and although her threat made her students gulp in fear, it also only made Yelena and Cassie cackle loudly.

"I’ve never heard a threat being so funny!" Yelena laughed loudly as she patted Y/N’s back a few times before wiping away a tear that left her left eye.

"Yeah Lizzie, next time try to not include the world vagina in your threats. It makes them completely hilarious."

"Alright, thanks for the advice. Now let’s go or I’m filling out the form to leave you two here as new species in this aquarium." The class laughed loudly at her joke and Y/N smiled triumphantly as she moved to the front of the group of teens, followed by Yelena and Cassie, whose laid a sweet peck on Y/N’s cheeks, Cassie on the left one while Yelena on the right one, before hugging her tightly.

-

"Oh I have a really interesting fact about whales!" Yelena’s features lighted up like a Christmas tree when they were visiting whales’ section, making Y/N groan in frustration out loud.

"Please don’t." Y/N tried unsuccessfully to stop Yelena from speaking but the Russian pointedly ignored her and kept on, talking to the class waiting for her to speak eagerly.

"Did you know male whales have the largest penis in the whole animal kingdom?" Yelena smiled brightly in mischief as she wiggled her eyebrows lewdly, making the entire class laugh while Y/N groaned out again at her declaration.

"Great, now let them hear what the guide is saying."

"Oh please, I would be ten times better than her!" Yelena waved the blonde guide off as she explained facts about whales to the rest of the group they were in and Y/N rolled her eyes fondly at her.

"Oh really?" Y/N lifted her left eyebrow up inquisitively and watched Yelena expectantly and incredulously, "since when did you become an animal expert?"

"I didn’t, I just like to know sexual facts about anything really and to just annoy you with that." Yelena answered Y/N’s question with a nonchalant shrug and smirked widely at Y/N, who sighed out in fond exasperation.

"Great." Y/N smiled widely with a totally too sweet tone as she exclaimed her short, dry statement through her gritted teeth while clapping her hands not too loudly to not disturb the other aquarium’s visitors that were admiring the animals’ exhibition. She stared intently into Yelena’s eyes a bit longer, watching as her smile only grew bigger by the second and decided to let her share her ‘sexual facts’ about animals for hers and the whole class’ entertainment. Mr Wright wasn’t there so why not let Yelena entertain everyone with her witty comments and funny statements? She just wished she could use her real voice and Russian accent to make everything ten times better and funnier, "okay, go on. Enlighten us then."

"Okay, maybe we just want to move a bit further away from everyone else. I don’t want to gather an audience." Yelena just stretched her arms towards the far end on the left side of the room to stand there and turned towards everyone when they reached their designed spot, puffing her chest out a bit to make her look serious and gazing out at the kids staring back at her expectantly with a wide smirk, meeting Kate’s eyes for a brief second and seeing amusement and mirth in her ocean blue eyes, before focusing on someone else to not raise suspicion.

"Chlo she didn’t change at all. She is still so sure of herself." Y/N commented as she bumped her left shoulder on Cassie’s right one and heard the girl laugh loudly as she nodded in agreement.

"Let her be. We love her just as she is."

"I’m perfect just like this, idiots. Now shut up, I’m trying to have a lesson to share my knowledge with these amazing kids." Yelena punched both Y/N’s and Cassie’s shoulders before focusing her attention back on the class and stating right away, "male ducks have corkscrew-shaped penises."

"Fascinating." Y/N commented as she tried to lower her tone as she laughed while listening to Yelena deliver sexual facts about animals.

"Elephants have a prehensile penis that they can essentially use as a fifth leg. Their erected penis can weight as much as 30 kg and if you happen to touch it accidentally, it can twitch and knock you over."

"Okay, our needed break is over. Let’s continue with our visit." Y/N stopped Yelena as she opened her mouth to deliver yet another sexual fact about animals and ushered everyone else to move before smiling widely at Kate when she purposefully walked towards the back of the group to be as close to Y/N as they could be in public.

-

After sneaking into Mr Wright’s room to gain some informations about him and to tap his phone while Yelena and Cassie distracted him down the hall, Y/N and Kate slipped back into their room and collapsed on the bed exhausted with loud sighs. "Ugh, I’m so tired!"

"Me too baby." Y/N agreed as she cuddled into Kate’s arms and hummed in appreciation at the girl’s warmth and perfume wrapping around her like a comfortable blanket, making her feel fuzzy and cozy in an instant, "we’ve been walking around for three entire days for this school trip. I’m so sad tomorrow we’re going back home."

"Same babe. I liked it here and I really enjoyed Yelena and Cassie here too." Kate pouted adorably as she stared into Y/N’s eyes, making her let out an ‘aw’ at the cute sight in front of her before leaning over and pecking her lips tenderly, switching that pout into a big, bright smile that she instantly mirrored as her stomach flipped over itself at the sight of her adorable and cute, but also extremely hot, girlfriend.

"Yeah, me too. They are a pain in the ass most of the time, but we love them nonetheless." Y/N sighed out loud, agreeing with Kate’s words as she nuzzled their noses tenderly before pecking her lips repeatedly, then deepening the kiss with a deep hum when the archer slipped her tongue out to lick the Y/E/C girl’s seam’s lips to ask for entrance, Y/N granting it right after and both whined breathlessly into the kiss when their tongues met halfway and slid over each other greedily. They slowed their kisses down and pecked their lips repeatedly for a few more seconds before pulling reluctantly away from each other and went back to staring into each other’s eyes lovingly while their noses brushed together from time to time. "I really enjoy their company. They’re like family and them leaving to go on their own mission breaks my heart, but I’m positive this won’t be the last time they will join us here, trust me. As much as Maria makes it look like she is a tough badass, she has a big, soft heart and I know no one, not even her, hell I think not even Fury, can resist to Yelena’s pout! Add Cassie’s pout too into the mix and you will do everything they will ask you to do. So even if we will miss them a lot and we have to say goodbye to them tomorrow, I’m positive they will come back here to spend a few more days with us in the near future. I’ll give them less than two weeks and we will have them both here again. I’m betting my favorite leather jacket that America and Kamala will join them next time. And Peter too! Trust me."

"Oh that would be so cool!" Kate smiled brightly as she tapped on Y/N’s forearm excitedly as her eyes shined brightly with enthusiasm under the room’s lights, "I don’t know about you but watching Yelena and America bicker is almost as funny as watching Yelena and Cassie bicker."

"Oh please! Have you seen Yelena sparring with Peter? He gets on her nerves every time he uses his powers to dodge her punches and kicks." Y/N chuckled as she recalled all the times she witnessed that amazing and funny sight and shook her head gently.

"No! Why didn’t you invite me to watch such a wonderful show?!" Kate asked in fake indignation with a deep pout and smiled when Y/N chuckled under her breath and pecked her pouty lips tenderly.

"I’m sorry! As soon as we get back, I’ll prepare a fresh bowl of popcorn and we will enjoy the show together. You have to see the frustrated face and grunts Yelena emits every time Peter uses his powers."

"You are so beautiful my love." Kate spoke up out of nowhere when silence settled around them after Y/N and Kate chuckled some more, her eyes glued on the Y/E/C girl’s features as they took in Y/N’s beauty.

A dark, deep blush appeared on Y/N’s cheeks and neck and instantly detached her eyes from Kate’s mesmerizing ocean blue ones to look down at her hand playing with the archer’s shirt’s collar. "Thank you babe. But I’m not as much beautiful as you are."

"Hm, I don’t think so." Kate let out in a hum on Y/N’s lips before wrapping them on Y/N’s ones in a deep, sensual kiss, full of tongue and teeth, stirring a warmth in both girl’s stomaches as they enjoyed their closeness.

"I’m serious babe. You are beautiful, smart, cute, adorable, witty when necessary but most importantly kind hearted. I just- love you so much baby."

"I love you my beautiful, gorgeous love." Kate smiled tenderly and lovingly at Y/N as she nuzzled their noses cutely together and giggling alongside her at how happy and giddy they both felt in that moment. "Oh and by the way, do you know flattery won’t take you anywhere right?"

Y/N laughed at the knowing smirk Kate sent her way before dusting a lewd one on her own lips as she wiggled her eyebrows seductively and mischievously at the archer while her pointer finger moved down from Kate’s collarbone to her stomach, drawing teasing circles there over the black haired girl’s shirt. "Oh really? Ohw damn, I was hoping it would at least take me between your legs!"

Kate widened her eyes comically and gulped loudly at Y/N’s statement but it seems her brain lost her ability to function in that moment after those words reached her ears and she was able to only murmur out lowly, "oh."

"Too bad." Y/N shrugged as she kept on faking being sad about Kate’s question and sighed out loud dramatically for good measure, moving her hand up again to play around with Kate’s hair gently, "well, moving on-."

"No, wait!" Kate stopped Y/N mid-sentence before clearing her throat in embarrassment at her eagerness. "What were you going to say?"

"Oh no, you said flattery won’t take me anywhere and as much as I love listing your qualities, now I just want to cuddle."

"Y/N/N!" Kate whined in protest at Y/N’s stubbornness and clear teasing and slapped her stomach gently, making the Y/H/C girl laugh heartily at her.

"What?"

"You know what!" Kate stressed her words out and whined in frustration when Y/N’s laugh increased in volume, comically rolling her eyes after she stared pointedly into Y/N’s Y/E/C hues down but it only deepened the Y/H/C girl’s smile tenfold. She grunted out her disappointment and slapped her stomach once again softly, then laying her hand there on her abs and feeling it going up and down with each giggle Y/N emitted. "Keep going please. I want to know what you were going to say. I promise I won’t interrupt you and I will let you say what you wanted to say. I promise I will shut up. Now please continue."

"Are you sure?" Y/N asked in fake uncertainty, furrowing her eyebrows together and making Kate roll her eyes again, making Y/N’s grin spread back on her lips. "I mean, I can always tell you how beautiful you are. Or how hot you look during your early morning workout. But I don’t want to- y’know shift this loving bubble to a more sexual one since we are just cuddling and my words won’t take us anywhere."

"Ugh Y/N/N!" Kate leaned her forehead on the girl’s collarbone and slapped her stomach again, repeatedly this time, eliciting another fit of giggles from Y/N’s lips.

"I will just keep my words PG rating, I promise."

"No please." Kate asked in a rush to Y/N as she played with the collar of her shirt, her short, cut nails scraping the girl’s skin from time to time to tease Y/N a bit, eliciting a few goosebumps in the process and making Kate smile as she noticed she pulled the desired and yearned effect from Y/N, "okay, fine. I know you will keep this on forever if I don’t say it. I was kidding, okay? I was just teasing you a bit. Now please keep going. Especially the part about my early morning workout."

"Good." Y/N smiled and pressed an hard kiss on Kate’s lips before pulling away with a loud ‘pop’ and sneaking a hand behind Kate’s back to adjust themselves on their sides as she flushed their bodies together and entwined their legs, making them both sigh contentedly at their intoxicating proximity. "Okay well, like I was saying- you are always so fucking hot, but you don’t even know how heavenly it feels when you workout early in the morning and I watch you comfortably on the bed. Those wonderful thighs contracting with each squat and consequently giving me a great view of your amazing ass sticking out in those illegal tight yoga pants you wear, your mouthwatering tits wobbling after each small movement in that skimpy sport bra you wear and watching your abs- those fucking, marvelous abs that looks like they had been sculpted from the most precious and finest marble ever existed, contracting deliciously after each of the three thousands crunches you do."

"Fuck." Kate whispered under her breath as she panted heavily onto Y/N’s lips, both gravitating towards each other each passing second as the air thickened between them.

"Or how delicious you look when you change in front of me, especially when you get out of the shower."

"I actually change in front of you on purpose." Kate admitted shyly as she bit on her bottom lip to prevent her smirk to broaden while watching Y/N’s eyes darkening in an instant.

"Oh trust me, I do know that." Y/N admitted with a sultry tone before leaning over and biting on Kate’s bottom lip softly, eliciting a small whine from the archer in the process and setting both their bodies on fire, her own from that heavenly sound coming from her girlfriend while Kate’s body burned from the seductive gesture, "I just stare at you and your wonderful body as I hold myself back from jumping on you and fuck you senseless on every available surface. When you turn around I just pretend I wasn’t daydreaming about me fucking you, you fucking me, us fucking."

"Shit babe. Why do you hold yourself back every time?" Kate fisted Y/N’s shirt greedily and pulled her more into her body as she imperceptibly bucked her hips up to gain some friction on her now pulsating core.

"Because I don’t want to look like an horny teenager that can’t control herself every time. I don’t want to look desperate or just turned on all the time. But that’s just the effect you have on me babe."

"Oh Y/N/N." Kate sighed as she leaned their foreheads together, gripping Y/N’s shirt harder to keep her grounded while her arousal increased quickly between her legs, "you will never look desperate or horny to me. Ever. I pretty much feel just like you. I would spend every second fucking you if I could, but unfortunately we have to be ‘responsible’ and ‘have a job’-." Y/N giggled when Kate let go of her shirt to do quote marks with her hands and rolled her eyes to pretend to be annoyed by their job before settling her hand behind Y/N’s neck and caressed the skin there gently. "-but still, I would spend every single day worshiping you all day long."

"Hm, I wouldn’t be opposed to that." Y/N hummed lowly as her hands started caressing up and down Kate’s strong back steadily, feeling every bump of Kate’s defined muscles and shivering as she felt the muscles there stand up under her touch, "anyway, like I was saying- you look even hotter when you are sparring with someone else that isn’t me and I get to watch your wonderful body move gracefully around as you try to win the sparring session."

"I’m not gonna lie, I always put a lot more effort when I know you are watching me. I like to show off."

"I knew it!" Y/N exclaimed loudly before laughing alongside Kate at the archer’s admission before nuzzling their noses together. "I always had a feeling you were purposefully teasing me because every time I stopped by to watch your sparring session, you always seem ‘sweaty’ and have to pull your top off, leaving you in sports bra that always make my mouth water as I stare at your boobs."

"Oh yeah." Kate smiled mischievously as she recalled all the times she watched Y/N approach her during sparring sessions and tried to seduce her with pulling her shirt off or putting really tight yoga pants just to see her reaction and always reveling in her struggling to focus on the sparring session itself instead of her, "most of the times I wasn’t that sweaty to pull shirt off, but I did just to tease you."

"Hm, I wasn’t opposed to that." Y/N teasingly moved her hands up and under Kate’s shirt and bra to grasp her boobs teasingly, a mischievous grin on her lips.

"Oh." Kate moaned out loud when Y/N started massaging and kneading her boobs greedily without breaking their eye contact and instantly arched her back into Y/N’s wonderful touch.

"I was always daydreaming about touching your boobs while staring at them as you sparred with one of our friends." Y/N admitted as she never stopped her unrelenting movements on Kate’s boobs, pinching both her nipples just a moment when she felt them both stand up under her palms from her touch and basked in the wonderful screech of pleasure leaving Kate’s mouth, "I felt so dirty thinking about touching, licking, biting, sucking these wonderful boobs, thinking how they would feel under my mouth and my hands, if they were firm, if they were soft, if they were a combination of both. You don’t even know how many times I got mocked and teased for literally eye-fucking you in the middle of the Avengers Compound’s gym. Even Maria made fun of me!"

"Oh my god! That’s amazing!" Kate forgot about the incredible pleasure she was experiencing to start laughing heartily at Y/N’s statement, making Y/N stop her movements just a bit to admire how beautiful Kate looked as she laughed care-freely and her face contracted in pure happiness. "So did everyone know about you having feelings for me, except myself?"

"Well- pretty much, yes." Y/N giggled after pulling her hands out from Kate’s shirt and bracketed her face softly. "Like Yelena stated ‘I was too obvious to be subtle with my feelings’."

Kate laughed heartily at Y/N’s attempt to imitate Yelena as best as she could with a fake Russian accent while Y/N stared lovingly up at her as her heartbeat increased, warmth filled her chest and her stomach bursted with wild butterflies flying around. "That’s exactly what she told me many many times." Kate rolled her eyes as she thought over Yelena making fun of her, "she always told me I was stupid for keeping away my crush for you from you. Once, after she told me for the umpteenth time I needed to confess my feelings for you, I told her I didn’t have a crush on you. I enjoyed watching her face contort in confusion and shock for a few seconds before telling her I was in love with you. It was my first time admitting that out loud."

"I would have given anything to see her reacting to that."

"She stared at me like I was crazy for like- two seconds I think, before starting to make fun of me again."

"Oh yeah, that’s totally what Yelena would do."

"Do you want to know the worst part?" Y/N nodded as soon as Kate trailed off to ask her, trying with all herself to hold her smile in to stay serious.

"Yes."

"Hm, c’mere first."

"No, I want to know first."

"Nope, c’mere." Kate leaned over and tried to kiss Y/N once more but the Y/H/C girl teasingly pulled away with a big smirk and wiggled mischievously her eyebrows at her, mirth swirling through her Y/E/C eyes, making Kate sigh out loud desperately, "please, just one kiss. That’s all I ask. Then I will tell you everything you want to know. I just want to kiss you again. Please, please, please. Just one kiss. Please."

"Hm-hm nope." Y/N shook her head amusedly at the pout adorning Kate’s lips and at her adoringly pleading face and leaned a finger on her lips to stop her when she leaned over once again to try to kiss her again with a laugh. "I know how this will go. You just piqued my curiosity but you wanting a kiss will lead us to share more than a kiss and we will forget about this conversation. So tell me first, then you’ll have all the kisses you want."

"Hm, and what if I want more than just kisses?" Kate asked seductively as she hovered her lips teasingly over Y/N’s ones and waited patiently for her answer, that arrived a few moments later after Y/N looked down at her lips hungrily, licked her own lips and panted on Kate's mouth a few seconds without answering Kate’s question.

"Well, it will all depend on what you will tell me and how much more turned on it will make me." Y/N countered back just as seductively with a low, hoarse tone before biting down on Kate’s bottom lip and dragged it back before releasing it, eliciting a wonderful, raspy groan from the black haired girl that looked like she was ready to jump on Y/N and fuck her senselessly - she truly hoped it will happen, she just wanted to hear what Kate had to say first -.

"The worst part was that, that same day, after admitting out loud I was in love with you, she walked in on me masturbating and moaning your name out." Kate admitted after a few seconds of silence and blushed furiously as she remembered that moment.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Y/N laughed heartily at that and clapped her hands in amusement, while her head leaned back to continue to giggle loudly in entertainment.

"Yeah. She teased me about that to no end, she still do it sometimes."

"Well to make you feel better, she once found a love letter I stupidly wrote for you and teased me about that from that moment on to no end. Every occasion was good enough to tease me about that. Me staring at you, you jokingly flirting with me while I melted on the floor, us sparring, us falling asleep cuddled on the couch after our weekly movie marathon. Every. Single. Occasion."

"Oh my god! It’s not stupid! Can I read that?"

"Yes, of course. It was obviously meant for you but I couldn’t find the courage to slip it under your bedroom door."

"Oh babe, you could’ve done it and we would have been together since then. Fuck, you don’t even know how emotional it makes me feel just knowing you wrote me a love letter. I can’t immagine how I’ll feel when I’ll read it."

"It’s just full of me gushing about you and how much I love you. Nothing you’ve never heard about."

"And fuck, it also made me so turned on." Kate admitted in a low tone after both stayed in silence for a few seconds, feeling her core clench in need for Y/N’s touch.

"Not as much as knowing, again, you touched yourself thinking about me."

"Ugh, which leads us to the fact that we both got teased by Yelena." Kate whined in distress as she thought over Yelena’s teasing, "you got teased for a loving gesture at the least. I had to endure Yelena imitating my moans all the time just because I couldn’t wait for everyone to go to sleep and I had to touch myself because I was too turned on to function."

"Why? What happened that day?"

"It was a Friday night and we were having a small celebrating party after Peter’s and America’s last successful mission. No one else was at the Avengers Compound except for us, Peter, America, Kamala, Shuri, Yelena, Wanda and Natasha. We were all pretty tipsy and at some point Peter suggested to play truth or dare with this new, great app."

"Oh yeah I remember that night."

"Do you also remember the last dare of the night before deciding to call it quits because everyone was just too drunk to keep going?"

"Not really, I was too much intoxicated myself, but I don’t know, I might remember it if you tell me."

"You got dared to give Wanda a one-minute lap dance." Kate simply stated, her eyes darkening as she remembered that moment like it was yesterday.

"Oh shit, now I remember it. We were laughing all the time while Natasha kept repeating ‘watch it Y/L/N’." Y/N tried to imitate Natasha’s voice through her giggles as she remembered that night too.

"Yeah, but you gave her a lap dance anyway. I couldn’t move my eyes away from you and your hips moving rhythmically to the music. As soon as we called it quits I flew to my room, discarded my pants and laid on the bed to touch myself while thinking about you giving me a lap dance. Just when I was about to come, Yelena barges in to ask me about something I clearly can’t exactly remember and watched me come with your name falling out of my mouth."

"Fuck- I would’ve given anything to be in Yelena’s place." Y/N stated dreamily as she felt her center beg for Kate’s attention.

"Just like I would’ve given anything to be in Wanda’s place." Kate admitted shyly as she bit on her bottom lip gently, staring at Y/N lustfully just as Y/N did.

"It can be arranged. As soon as we get back from this school trip, I will give you the best lap dance ever executed. But, on one condition." Y/N trailed off and smiled mischievously at Kate, waiting for her to urge her on continuing and smiling widely when Kate nodded impatiently as she gripped her hips once in pleading, "I get to be in Yelena’s position and watch you come with your fingers."

"Deal." Kate literally moaned out loud instead of answering normally, nodding eagerly at Y/N’s request. "Should we seal or deal with a kiss?" Kate asked mischievously with her eyebrow wiggling seductively after she regained all her cognitive functions, making Y/N laugh heartily at her girlfriend’s behavior.

"Alright, a promise is a promise. I promised you kisses after your story. And we also have to seal a deal. What better way to do that with a kiss? Or more, right?"

"I couldn’t agree more." Kate smiled brightly and moved a bit closer to Y/N, hovering her lips over Y/N’s inviting ones and licked her own instinctively when she felt them dry up from their proximity and for the electricity instantly charging up the air of the silent room and putting their bodies on fire.

"Well, what are we waiting for? C’mere."

"Wait." Kate stopped Y/N before she could close the gap between them by pulling slightly away and suppressed the urge to kiss Y/N’s pout away from her alluring lips by just bracketing her face softly and squeezing her cheeks gently, making Y/N switch her pout to a wonderful, bright smile and mirrored it with a just as happy grin, before moving closer again and nuzzled their noses together cutely, making both their stomaches erupt in wild butterflies flying around like crazy, "do you think we can, y’know, have sex here or do you think it’s too dangerous that someone could walk in on us or maybe hear us? I really want you right now, with our confessions and all of that, but I don’t want to risk our covers to blow up just because I was too much horny for you to think properly about our actions and about our actual jobs here. We are professionals but we are also together and, y’know, we have both needs and- and I really want to touch you right now, I really want to make you come over and over again on my fingers while you moan out my name. Of course we will try to keep it as quiet as we can but y’know what I mean. I want to lick you clean, drink your amazing juices up until you don’t have any other drop of cum into your body. I want to taste those amazing boobs of yours, kiss all over your soft skin while leaving love marks all over you just to tell the world, to anyone who ever wanted you or ever will want you that you are mine. I want to feel you squirm under my hands while I tease you to no end just to hear you whine, pleading me to make you come on my tongue or on my fingers, or both. I want to watch your face contort in pure pleasure as I deliver to you the best orgasm you have ever had, I want to feel your walls squeeze my fingers and your legs wrap around my head. I want to feel your clit pulsate under my lips as I suck on it thoroughly to give it the attentions it needs. I just want you in every possible way. Fuck, I love you Y/N. I love you so much I don’t even know if words can express how much I love you. But I promise you, I will try everyday to express my love for you and make you feel loved as you should. I will try everything in my power to make you feel like the queen that you are. I- hold on- where was I?"

"Babe, that was so touching." Y/N giggled gently at Kate’s question as she felt her eyes sting with tears as they glazed over full of emotions she felt for the archer. "I always thought your ramblings were cute but fuck, hearing you ramble about how you want me, how you want to fuck me, holy shit it made me feel so many things and I am so wet for you. But then you kept rambling about how much you love me and shit, I feel so overwhelmed right now. I just- fuck I love you so much babe. You have no idea."

"C’mere." Kate pecked lovingly Y/N’s lips softly before pulling away to bump their noses together cutely, "can I fuck you now?"

Y/N laughed loudly to cover her hard blush and slapped Kate’s shoulder gently in the process, "such a gentlewoman."

"Sorry, let me rephrase that correctly. Can I fuck you now, please?"

[2/3]