#or Ms. Fortune for that matter

[koboldfactory]

Don't ask her if she mains Alisa

[alderaans]

Congratulations on your wedding, Ms. Son Hae-yeong. A world where you wouldn't suffer losses for being unmarried or an actual marriage with your true love would've been preferable. But we all make decisions to find happiness, don't we? If this fake wedding leads to you finding true happiness, then that's all that matters. I hope you find fortune in all of your choices. As your fake, temporary husband, I'll wholeheartedly wish you luck forever.

No Gain No Love (2024)

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - You and I

Part 1

Tags- Gojo x fem reader, angst, self depreciation/suicidal stuff, miscarriage centered chapter

Synopsis- a look at both of their POVs, the aftermath a month later.

Satoru is devastated but so are you but worse...

22nd October, 2016...

22nd October of 2016 was when it happened. The Legal Separation between you and Satoru Gojo.

Fortunately or not but the whole fiasco never went outside the borders of The Gojo Estate, despite it involving a few 'third parties'.

Luckily, the servants of the house were on a week off or else by now you and Satoru would have become the new gossip of the town no doubt.

Mr Ijichi, an assistant director at the Jujutsu High and a very close and trusted accomplice of your husband... or ex husband, you can't decide.

He is probably the only person who knows about it, not in detail of course since Satoru is very specific on who he wants to be close with but yes, you suspect Mr Ijichi is a bit aware of what went down because he was the one driving the car on that day.

You also suspected at first that maybe Ms Shoko is also in light of the events because she is definitely someone who gets her information one way or the other and the fact Satoru might have... no! He has infact told Shoko about all of it.

When Satoru introduced you to the World of Jujutsu Society, Ms Shoko was the first he got you to meet with and since you have had good relationship with her.

Since your legal separation happened, Shoko and Ijichi have been a mediator, set up by Gojo, for communication since, you know it and so does everybody who knows Gojo Satoru, he's too prideful to go back wagging his tail where he's not needed. Or so he thinks.

Satoru thinks because of his work schedules, he is not able to spend time with you as your husband and not able give you the life you hoped for which definitely affected your mental health (as predicted by his six eyes) and thus you decided for a divorce.

But the new information that he got on that day from you made him realize maybe he was indeed wrong thinking that you are perhaps different from other women who only fell for the looks but mostly for the money and the status of the Gojo family in general.

He never had plans to marry in the Jujutsu Society or The human World (haha as if!) be it arranged or love. He did not care. He had plans to become the wise Sage or a Monk of wisdom, a teacher/mentor like in video games. But all of it changed when he met you, a simple average human.

You were the one who taught Satoru so much. You were the one made him realize that even the strongest sorcerer has a soft heart that has the capability of falling in love.

But what made him solidify his love, making him realize that yes he has fallen in love and he is glad it is you was when you (unknowing about his past with the incident with Riko and Toji) made him realize the fact that all humans are not same.

This was the last and final straw that made the fall for you really bad and sick. He wanted to marry you. But he never said it out loud because of the repercussions you would have to go through and that is why he protested as well when you brought up the topic of marriage.

But none of it matters

None of it

Not anymore

He is done

All humans are the same.

Greed

Lust

Money

Fame

Power

All humans are indeed the same...

Satoru has no interest in any sort of relationships anymore. Everything feels sour and bitter. All he knows now is his role. His role as the strongest sorcerer, a responsible mentor, as the Head of his Clan, Face of the Jujutsu Society altogether. These are his priorities.

Gojo would very much prefer a permanent sort of freedom from you now knowing your true face.

'Ugh awful, so disgusting. A whore? Really? Is that all you thought of yourself y/n when you voluntarily got physical with me before marriage?', he said to himself in his head.

The only reason Gojo sent Separation papers instead of divorce was because it would startle both of yours and his families. The society isn't kind to divorced women and that too the ex wife of the six eyes sorcerer. Oh what a wonderful way to make him vulnerable for the curses and curse users!

He can say whatever he want against you but somewhere, inside that beautiful big and kind heart of his, he wants to talk to you, talk things out, talk about your feelings and wants to listen. But his mind refuses to let down his walls, ever gain!

Days following the 22nd October, you mostly stayed locked up in your room while Mr Ijichi packed all of your husband's clothing and accessories.

Mr Ijichi isn't stupid, he knew it must be really hard for you that is why he tried his best to enter, collect the things and exit as quietly as he could.

'A whore? Why did you even say that you bitch. You really don't deserve ANYTHING in this world!', your days began with endless self loathing.

5th December, 2016

A lot happened in the month following the incident.

Most of your days were spent in self loathing because after your miscarriage at just 3 months, the doctor had declared that you're (uterus) not strong enough to carry a child.

These words are something a woman is most scared to ever hear in her life. And you were one of the unfortunates.

You had stopped taking your post miscarriage medications. You're mental health got worse as well due to continuous thoughts on how you acted up on impulses and ruined the only good thing you had. Days followed you couldn't even get the strength to get up from the bed every morning. Fading appetite lead to refusing food which further resulted to visible sunken cheeks.

The house staff didn't knew anything that took place during their week off and they had noticed changes around the household. From your behavior to the absence of the Head of the house. They were also worried for your health and didn't knew what to do.

The head of staff, Mr Kawaguchi, decided to make a call to the Master of the house since it is normal for him to be absent from the house due to his work.

Kawaguchi- Good morning Satoru sama. This is Kawaguchi from the house.

Gojo (a little annoyed)- I'm busy, call me later.

Kawaguchi- Sir actually there's a grave problem at the house.

Gojo (mockingly)- what? Did someone die or something? This better be important-

Kawaguchi- sir its Y/n sama. Y/n sama is not in good health.

Gojo (worried)- w- what?! What're you stupids doing? What happened to y/n? Is she okay? What did the doctors say?

Kawaguchi- uh about that sir... y/n sama didn't let us into her room and actually we had to... (nervously looks back at the the other staff, everyone nods)

Gojo- huh?

Kawaguchi- sir, we had to break into y/n sama's room. We have called the doctors and they'll-

Gojo- break into the room!? What is hap- Nevermind, I'm sending someone. You lot stay there and look after y/n till the docs arrive!

Kawaguchi- y- yes sir!

Gojo was now left worried at what the hell did he just hear on the call. 'What are you upto now y/n'. Is this some trick to bring him back out of pity and pretend nothing happened? That you, a month ago, didn't just randomly demand for a Divorce.

He was really annoyed and even if he wanted to go to the house he couldn't due to being out abroad for missions. He has been busy with overseas missions mostly after the separation.

He decided to send Shoko for a look and to inform him 'EVERY SINGLE DETAIL', verbatim.

Shoko was sitting at the morgue, smoking, when she received a call from Gojo.

'Ha? Gojo? At this hour?', she wondered.

"Yea?", Shoko said with her usual nonchalant voice.

"I need a favor"

Gojo explained her the situation to which she agreed without hesitant, knowing what has been going on between you two and now this.

When she arrived at the Gojo Estate, she was welcomed by the worried faces of the staff that guided her to your room.

She started observing every detail. She saw the entrance door, broken. The inside of the master bedroom, dim, even with long sliding doors facing the beautiful and bright gardens. There were half eaten bowls of food. A trolley with clothes overflowing.

Shoko turned to looked at you and felt her heart wrench a little at the sight of you. She was horrified and worried. She is usually a very calm and relaxed person but you, you really made her loose her calm.

She knows you and has seen you in your good days. In light yellow summer dress beside Gojo, all smiles to now? Like this. Dark circles umder eyes and slight sunken cheeks, chipped lips and several medications.... wait what medications?

There were already a doctor present in the room who declared that its just dehydration and that it'll be okay with a few medicines.

The servants thanked the doctor and ordered the medicines.

Meanwhile, Shoko was already in a shock. The medicines piled up beside you on the bed and the bedside table were... post miscarriage pills. She enquired the whole situation from the staff.

All while, the two women staff got you up in the bed and gave you water.

Eyes half open, you recognised what was happening. You passed out of dehydration and couldn't hear the knocks of the servants outside for breakfast. They were worried and tried the other doors, through the garden, but they were locked. So they broke the entrance and found still in the bed with pills surrounding you. They all got worried and one called the doctor and the head called Gojo.

Shoko noticed you were up and ordered the ladies to open the curtains and windows and leave her for a while. Afterall she's got some questioning to do in Gojo's behalf.

She extended her hand to hold your left hand. It seemed cold to touch. "Hello y/n. Remember me?"

You struggled to open your eyes and look.

"Don't worry i won't ask you how you're doing", she joked.

"But i will ask about the medications y/n. Do not lie. I'm a doctor too", Shoko knew now is not the time but she also knew that if you were pregnant then why didn't you tell Gojo because he obviously didn't know.

Your ears started ringing. And eyes welled up. You were reminded of it again. You wanted to just lay back down and bury yourself in the warmth of the blankets.

But the cat was out of the bag. Shoko is a doctor. She knows medicines. You cannot lie. You cannot hide. You have to be strong, you have to show her that everything is okay and Satoru needn't be worried, not like as if he is anyway.

"Please.", you mumbled, she had leaned in and caressed your knuckles. "Shoko, do not let anyone know of this, i beg of you."

"Shhh", she shushed you, "Don't say that. I won't. I promise"

She continued, "... but what about Satoru? You can't hide it from him. The child was his as much as it was yours-"

You cut her in, "Shoko i wanted to tell him! I wanted him and only HIM to be the first to get the news of the...", you struggled but continued, "...of the pregnancy. I got to know myself in the 2nd month and he was coming back home just next month, it was all perfectly going... until it wasn't".

Shoko was visibly upset. She didn't knew what to say. All she was aware of was the things Gojo told her...

He went home with gifts and souvenirs for you, you gave him divorce papers, he tried convince you not to, you weren't ready to listen, you said some hurtful things, he realised his place and agreed for separation over divorce.

Looking at you she can tell you would breakdown any moment.

And she was right.

You did.

You broke down in tears.

Hyperventilating you mumbled, "Shoko they said i can't have children! Can you believe that! I can't have kids! And I'm so stupid i brought out a f-fucking Divorce paper when Satoru came home."

"He was so angry with me i could feel it even if he wasn't! I'm stuck Shoko! I-i just - just want to go hide under a rock or maybe i should just kill mys-"

Shoko pulled you in for a hug. "Ah! Thats enough. That's enough. Shush now. Its okay."

"I won't tell Satoru, don't worry"

Series masterlist

Tags:

@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0pe @chayunwoo @Enaaneaen @sweet-almonds @sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @aesonsgirl @direwolf-5 @fairyyxsp @puroganggang @altyx @dianagracesworld @hermitkerm @leonesimp @minnerra @whitelittlebunny @letharue

[tedwardremus]

Love in Secret: The Secret Wedding Everyone's Talking About

By Rita Skeeter

The Vanquisher of Voldemort, Harry Potter, and his Hogwarts sweetheart, Ginny Weasley, have secretly eloped!

Mr Potter, hero of the Second Wizarding War now a celebrated Auror, and Ms Weasley, a star Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies, have long been a favorite couple among fans. Their popularity endured even through persistent rumors that Ms Weasley used love potions to secure her longtime relationship to the famous wizard.

Ginny Weasley, the youngest daughter of the famously large and somewhat eccentric Weasley family, has always had her eyes set on Harry Potter. Friends from their Hogwarts days recall a shy young girl with a crush that bordered on obsessive. But could this infatuation have driven her to take more sinister measures?

Anonymous sources from the Ministry of Magic have hinted at an investigation into the matter. “It’s not uncommon for witches to resort to such measures when their affections are unreturned,” said one insider. “And with Harry Potter’s fame and fortune, who could blame her?”

When reached for comment, Ron Weasley, Ms Weasley's brother and Mr. Potter’s wartime sidekick, told this reporter to perform a vulgar sexual act on oneself that is too crude to write in this prestigious paper.

Despite their high-profile lives, the couple has always sought to keep certain aspects of their relationship private. Their decision to elope reflects their desire to cherish their love away from the prying eyes of the public.

The newlyweds have yet to make an official statement, but sources indicate they are currently enjoying a romantic honeymoon at an undisclosed location.

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears A Suit

part Ⅰ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder. Hot devil's son. Sexual harassment? Michael Langdon.

Summary: Y/N is a purple at Outpost 3 and gets interviewed by Mr. Langdon.

A/N: I will go to hell for this and I am not opposing if he will be there too.

After 18 months at the underground Outpost life was as dreadful as being killed by a bomb explosion. Or worse. A bunch of snobs and shallow cowards. It was clear as day, that it was just a matter of time before everyone was at each other's throats. 

It wasn’t the Outpost itself or the fact that we are the last human beings on this planet that made everything so depressing. It was boredom. A hole in my head. The only bearable person here was Mr. Gallant. Without his company at the dining table, I could have stuck a fork into my neck.

That evening Ms. Venable announced to us about a visitor. The agent of the Cooperative. Even though she remained calm as usual I sensed a note of fear in her voice. So it means this new man has great authority. I was grateful for any kind of entertainment, even if it meant a bloody revolution. After 18 months with the same people, fresh meat is always dainty.

Ms. Venable ended her speech when a tall man with long blond hair entered the room. He had a dark aura. The aura of power.

“My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative,” he said, circling our table. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

I glanced at the other residents of the Outpost. They all looked tense and nervous, especially Ms. Venable. She seemed almost afraid of him. Only Mr. Gallant seemed as amused as me. We glanced at each other and I immediately understood what was on his mind. After all, he had a good taste in men.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His speech was persuasive, words sharp and his blue eyes pierced into all of us. Such an ability to capture everyone's attention was making me delighted.

He stopped at the head of the table and continued. “The three other compounds have been overrun and destroyed.”

“What happened to the people inside?” asked Timothy worried. 

“Massacred,” answered Langdon and I think I caught the shadow of a grin on his face.

I bit my lip to stop myself from chuckling. I had to admit, this Langdon was a very attractive man. And Mr. Gallant was obviously admiring his appearance too. But there was something about The Cooperative representative that made me feel uneasy. It was as if he was hiding something. Something very bad. 

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe… The Sanctuary,” he said, placing his hands behind his back. “I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call ‘Cooperating’. Simply, I will determine if you belong.”

I remained silent, analyzing the situation. Everyone seemed wary and looked at others with distrust. Only Coco didn’t have enough brains to remain silent and tried to openly express her dissatisfaction. Fortunately, her tirade was abruptly suppressed.

“I volunteer to go first.” Mr. Gallant raised his hand. 

“And so you shall,” Langdon said threateningly, looking us over. He had a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I had a feeling that he already knew who he was going to select.

“The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won’t be kept in suspense forever. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” I felt his gaze on me and barely restrained myself from looking away. 

Langdon left the room and everyone immediately started to argue. A bunch of morons, all of them. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, observing the conversation. Everyone began to share their suspicions and guesses, but of course, they were all too wrapped up in their own fear to notice the whole thing. The Cooperative looked at us as laboratory rats and no one seemed to see that. Pathetic. 

I let out a sigh of annoyance and left the room.

                                                      ✦✦✦

I ran into Malcolm in the hallway an hour later and looked at him questioningly. 

“Oh, darling, I almost had a heart attack." He came closer and started whispering "I'm a bit scared of him. He is definitely hot as hell, but twice as evil."

I chuckled. "Well, that's quite a review. Did he tell you anything new?"  

Mr. Gallant leaned even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He asked me a lot of personal questions...I mean really personal."  

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

“Like my sexuality for example. And my nana. And other… things. Pretty intimate. I felt so uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it cool.” 

My eyebrows furrowed in interest. So these "Cooperating" sessions were, indeed, quite unique. It seemed like Langdon wanted to know every minuscule detail about each person. I began to wonder what kind of "personal" questions he would ask me. I also began to wonder why I was so looking forward to the moment. 

“I felt like he was trying to rip out my soul.” Added Malcolm in a whisper.

I smirked. "Well, that's quite a dramatic way to describe it." Malcolm chuckled nervously but I had a feeling that he wasn't exaggerating. Langdon was certainly not the type of man that you could fool easily. He could see right through people.

But something was intriguing. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of uncovering the depth of Langdon's scrutiny. 

 "I guess I'll have to brace myself for my turn then," I said nonchalantly.

“Good luck sweetheart.” We kissed each other on the cheek and went in different directions.

I slowly walked to my quarters, lost in thought. I was feeling an inexplicable mixture of excitement and curiosity. The thought of being examined by Langdon, being exposed under the watchful gaze of his sharp eyes, was somehow appealing. God, I have to stop.

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss these thoughts. "This is ridiculous," I mumbled to myself softly.

Suddenly I heard something. Something like a scream perhaps. I stopped and looked around. There was no one except me in this dimly lit hall. And then this sound again. More like a whisper now. Millions of whispers. My head began to spin slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Silence. Everything went quiet. I turned around and flinched as I saw Langdon behind me.

“Mrs. Y/S, I’d like to talk with you next.” 

I looked up at Langdon with a surprised expression, silently cursing myself for being so lost in my thoughts to the point of not noticing him coming closer. His presence was so powerful that it still made my heart flutter even now.

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. 

Langdon didn't bother answering, simply gesturing for me to follow him. I walked behind him through the maze of halls and rooms. 

We finally reached the entrance to what appeared to be his cabinet. Langdon stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Entering the room, I noticed how dark and ominous it felt. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with old leather-bound volumes. The main source of light was a fireplace.

Langdon gestured for me to sit down on the armchair across from him. I lowered myself gently, straightening my purple dress. 

He studied me, wanted me to be nervous, wanted me to crack. I knew this game. I have played this game with many different powerful men, who think they are Gods because they have dicks. I never lose in a game like this.

His eyes searched my face, trying to find any sign of weakness. But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.

I leaned back in my seat, a small smirk on my lips. "I see you're expecting me to be quivering in my boots," I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Langdon chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. 

A silence fell between us, and I held his gaze without flinching. Something about his demeanor made my heart beat a little faster, but I was determined not to show it.

“I prefer conversations to be effective, Mr. Langdon.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my remark, a smirk forming his lips. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Straight to the point, are we?" 

He studied me for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Well, I can appreciate a straightforward woman," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "It makes the process much more efficient."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never faltering. "Ms. Y/S," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a sinful whisper. "Allow me to ask you a personal question."

“Ask,” I replied.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes were laser-focused on me, and I could practically feel his gaze trying to pierce through my soul. 

"What do you fear the most?" he asked, his tone almost gentle.

I was caught off guard by the question and made a mistake. Langdon noticed the slight flicker of surprise in my eyes. He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may have mastered the art of bravado, but everyone has a weakness," he continued. "And I'm here to find yours." 

I watched him back and after crossing my legs answered "I fear being surrounded by idiots for the rest of my life." I needled.

Langdon raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, don't you?", he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

He leaned back in his seat, studying me closely. "Being trapped in a group of lesser minds for eternity may be torturous, especially for a woman of your... intelligence."

“For a man of your power, it’s a pity that you use flattery as a term of manipulation,” I said, tilting my head in a mocking manner. 

Langdon chuckled, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Ah, so observant," he said, still maintaining his smirk. 

He leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not just using flattery, Ms. Y/S. I do recognize your intellect. But don't mistake my compliments for manipulation. I simply use the tools at my disposal."

“Huh.”

Langdon chuckled again, clearly appreciating my dry response. "You have a sharp tongue," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It may be your unique feature or a pathetic attempt to hide your fear.”

I could feel a flicker of irritation at his words, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Langdon was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "Or perhaps you're simply not used to people who don't cower easily in front of someone higher in rank."

He stood up from his seat and started circling me slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the room. “Be careful, Ms. Y/S. Your bold attitude is admirable, but at some point, this can play a cruel joke on you.”  His gaze burned into me as he studied me from every possible angle.

“I appreciate the warning,” I said coldly. “I don't fear intimidation tactics.”

“You are a brave woman.” Langdon's voice was suddenly close behind me, his breath lingering on the nape of my neck. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I had to suppress the urge to turn around and look at him.

“A little too brave, some would say.” he continued, his words almost a whisper. “Tell me, Ms. Y/S, is it hard to be the smartest in the room? To be forced to communicate with idiots?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made me nauseous. But I still refused to let him see any sign of weakness. I sat up straighter in my chair, lifting my chin.

“It can be... annoying at times,” I admitted.

“It is irritating how arrogant the upper class is, isn’t it? Especially toward women.” I felt the touch of his fingers on my arm and I barely restrained myself from snatching my hand away. “The world before the bombs wasn’t that much brighter than this one, was it? They all mistreated you, and never took you seriously… Does the idea of them having everything infuriate you?”

His words hit a nerve, the subtle truth in them cutting through my defenses. Yes, the world before the bombings was far from perfect, and I had my fair share of disappointments.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had managed to hit a weak spot. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what makes you think you're any different from them?”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing along my skin, tracing patterns against the fabric of my dress. His nonchalant arrogance was both infuriating and strangely enthralling. 

“Oh, I never claimed to be any different," he responded, his voice low and husky. “But I will say this - I appreciate intelligence, especially in women. I can see your potential.”

“Potential,” I repeated, struggling to keep my tone even. “For what, exactly?”

Langdon ignored my question. His hands, now both on my arms, crawled up to my shoulders. “Have you ever thought about punishing them? About finally showing what you are capable of, so they would never think you are only ‘pretty face’ again?” His breath tickled my ear. “Have you ever thought about making them scared of you?”

His hands on my shoulders were deceptively gentle, yet they seemed to burn against my skin through the fabric of my dress. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered his words, making my breath hitch in my throat. 

I felt a strange mixture of anger and... excitement at his words. The thought had crossed my mind more than once if I was being honest with myself. To show them ALL how strong and brilliant I truly was. To shuffle a knife into someone’s throat. I remained silent. 

“I sense this force in you, Y/N.”

His voice seemed to fill the space between us, wrapping around me like a dark, intimate spell. He leaned closer, his chest almost pressed against my back. His hands remained on my shoulders, his fingers gently massaging my tense muscles. 

There was something about his voice, the way he said my name, that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through me, past the cool exterior I had been trying to maintain. He knew about the anger, the desire, the fire burning within me.

“I can tell you have a dark side,” he murmured, his voice deep and low. 

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Yes, you do.” His hands continue to stroke my shoulders gently. He was amused by my denial.

“You don't have to play coy with me, Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I can feel it radiating off of you. That simmering anger, that burning desire."

Langdon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You want... power. And I can promise you that.”

His words were a seductive murmur, weaving their way into my mind and planting thoughts of power and revenge. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push, what desires to awaken within me. 

"Power," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was swimming, both alarmed and intrigued by his proposal. I felt like I was hypnotized. "Why… What’s the point?"

Langdon chuckled softly, noticing the effect his words were having on me. He stepped away from me, his hands finally leaving my shoulders. He walked around the chair, standing in front of me again.

"Because, my dear," he began, "I've observed your potential. Your intelligence, your resourcefulness, your strength. You're not like the other people in this house. You have ambition. And ambition can lead to power."

He tilted up my chin gently, so I could meet his gaze. "And I can help you achieve it." His thumb traced my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his finger brushed against my bottom lip I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He smirked and leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from mine.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Did my touch... unsettle you?”

With a swift, almost graceful movement, Langdon sank to his knees in front of me. His hand found its way to my knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress.

“I think the interview is over,” I said, trying to stand up, but he pressed on my knee, not letting me get up.

“I will decide if it’s over or not, Ms. Y/S,” Langdon smirked at my silence, slowly running his hand higher up my thigh. He could clearly see the effect he was having on me, the slight tremble in my body.

“What?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “No witty comeback? No clever quip? Seems like you're losing your grip.”

"Losing my grip?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hardly. I am just amused by your behavior." Even a blind person would see my bluff and feign confidence.

“Oh? Really?” He stood up a bit, leaning closer to my face, almost whispering in my mouth. His proximity was intoxicating, his breath hot against my lips. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, the desire coursing through my veins like a current. He slowly brushed his lips against mine and I felt a touch of his tongue on my bottom lip. 

It felt like drugs. It felt better than drugs. His tongue teasingly tracing along my bottom lip sent a shiver down my spine, making my legs tremble beneath me. It was overwhelming. I have never felt like this before. In that very second I could do anything for this man.

Suddenly he stopped and looked me right into my eyes, smirking satisfiedly almost like he read a thought that just got in my mind.

He stood up, turning away from me and I bit my tongue not to moan in disappointment. 

“We’re done for today, Ms. Y/S. It was a pleasure talking to you,” He said, opening the door for me. Smirk remained on his face, but Langdon seemed very calm. As if he didn’t just kneel and almost kiss me two minutes ago. 

I needed a few seconds to understand what had happened, so I blinked and then quickly stood up walking toward the door.

“Hope you have a good night, Ms. Y/S,” he said watching me and I can swear, as he was saying that, his hand slid to cover his groin and he definitely wanted me to notice that. 

“Good night, Mr. Langdon,” I mumbled and left the room. 

What the fuck has just happened?

part two

[vingler-mirror]

Reverse 1999 KR released a special video for Pepero Day (Pocky Day), so here's an amateur translation of it by me:

Sonetto: Timekeeper, we organized all the letters we received on the day of the celebration and distributed them to everyone in the suitcase.

Vertin: Except for those who didn't receive the letter because of their duties, everyone replied with sincerity.

Sonetto: That's right! X sent us this "Scene Recreation Phonograph." How about we read the letters aloud with this?

Vertin: Then let's listen to it together.

"Regulus, take off your sunglasses!"

Regulus: Huh? You still haven't seen this Captain's face? That's okay, you'll get plenty of opportunities to see this Captain's cool appearance in the future. Save that moment for a bigger party!

"I never thought I'd like apples in my life... Mr. APPLe... don't drink too much and live a healthy life with Captain for a long time~!! To Mr. APPLe"

Mr. APPLe: Ah, a letter full of affection for me, Mr. APPLe. Thank you very much, but don't worry. The juice of this Apple flows smoothly and won't be thickened by alcohol.

"The Best First Line of Defense Discipline Assistant in the world!"

Matilda: Huh! It's obviously a letter addressed to me! But you must have been nervous? I think you forgot to write your letter. It's okay, I know what you want to say to this great Matilda Bouanich.

"To Alphabet No. 1. Stop drinking coffee and exercise."

X: Hahaha... the "Automatic Eating Sandbag" and the "Step Controller" are both working well. I don't think I'll need any more athletic inventions for the time being.

"Dear Ms. Campbell, you've always worked hard. I'm a human, but if you want, I can show you how I eat 100 tooth fairies. May all the people in the world eat tooth fairies as you wish... I love you, Ms. Campbell"

Tooth Fairy: Tooth fairies have good healing properties and taste delicious. But if you eat too many at once, it's not good for your health. I appreciate the thought, but please don't eat 100 tooth fairies, okay?

*The letter is a doodle of Marcus saying "Maaang"

Marcus: "Maaaang." "Maaang?" "Mang..." "Maaang!" (I beg you to listen to the VA saying this line, you won't regret it)

Marcus: I saw this word written a lot in the letters I received, but what does it mean? No matter how much I read it, I can't understand it...

"37 = 1² + 6²"

37: What a witty letter! The person who wrote this letter must have a cool number. 29, 41... or maybe 53?

"Dear Lucy, are you thinking of adding a USB-C charging port in the future?"

Lucy: It is true that experiments on the efficiency of data transfer via USB are being conducted in Laplace. The so-called USB charging method USB-C...

Lucy: Data error

Sonetto: Timekeeper, are you all right?

Vertin: It's okay, X's invention must have broken again

Sonetto: I'm glad you're okay, but the play button on the phonograph seems to be broken. Fortunately, the record function is working fine, so we should be able to record our replies to the letters.

Vertin: I trust X's machine, but we still have to be careful.

Vertin: Okay, let's get started.

Sonetto: Look at this, Timekeeper. It's a letter with a drawing of me! Next to the drawing, it says, "you found a good poem for me."

Sonetto: Thank you so much! I should probably write a poem in return, but... it'll take some time, so I'll express my gratitude instead.

Vertin: *reading the letter* "Vertin, please eat well and have a good time."

Vertin: Of course, I don't only eat sugary candies instead of food. I'll take care of myself. Thank you.

Sonetto: Don't worry, I'll be responsible for the Timekeeper's diet.

Sonetto: By the way, can I deliver this recordings to the people who wrote the letters?

Vertin: X's machine always give us surprise, so let's trust it again this time.

[myobsessionsspace]

maybe a tough question but hypothetically, do you think it would be the end of BTS if Jungkook and jimin ever came out as a couple?

Hypothetically speaking.

For some reason I don’t think the majority of the fandom would be accepting, sadly. 

What are your thoughts? Again, hypothetically. I really doubt they ever would. 

the travel show almost feels like a cushion? If that’s the right way to put it. Like it’s them saying, we’re close. And if upon our release from MS, you catch us out and about together or closer than ever, well, we served together, we travelled together, we are simply close.

a cover. Of sorts.

thoughts?

Hi Lovely,

If it’s ok I’d like to talk about coming out first before I talk about the hypothetical in relation to Jikook.

Coming Out

As a member of the community myself I can only speak for my own experiences, own up to my lack of experiences, refer to what I’ve learnt from others and resources and it still wouldn’t be enough. Because identity, orientation, expression etc is totally individual. Sometimes it’s constantly evolving and sometimes due to situations left dormant or stifled.

Sexual orientation for some people is not a one and done. There are many people I know that have come out with one label then have come out later one with another, then another.

I say all that to say one of the key focuses in coming out is to label yourself unambiguously.

This originally was meant to be for the person in question only.

This was meant to be so the person in question could live in their full authentic truth, to no longer have to deal with societal pressures and expectations.

To understand themselves and to have people understand them. To find a community, to be embraced and loved.

Coming out was meant to feel LIBERATING to the person in question, freeing, coming out of a box, a closet if you will.

Sadly that’s not always the case for everyone.

Sometimes it’s because of the environments they are in, that doesn’t allow for them to be fully embraced, to have that fearless freedom, to have that community. Sometimes it’s just not safe.

Not safe due to the emotional anguish that may be inflicted on the person by those closest to them, those in their everyday environment, those in their wider environment.

It may have physical safety repercussions, financial repercussions, familial and social repercussions, religious conflicts etc.

It may just not be safe because the person in question is not ready to deal with the psychological and emotional effects that may ensue after they coming out because we live in a world where the majority oppress the minority, and being queer is a minority.

No matter how progressive people may view the world to be, through the lense of the internet, in the human body, physically dealing with everything that comes with labelling yourself is a big deal.

On the flip side there are those that are fortunate that they don’t even have to come out. Or any fears aren’t actualised because they’re blessed.

There are people that have never been taught to be fearful of learning themselves, expressing themselves.

They’ve never been taught to view people and their differences in any negative way. They’ve been taught they are in a safe and loved environment that no matter what they do, how they live or who they do or don’t love

They are and will still be loved and have a place.

There are some people that when they do come out their family and or friends would be like ‘oh honey, why are you being formal about it, even the cat knew’

Even with people that have all of the above they may come out to every Tom, Dick and Harry they meet, they may come out to a select few or they might not come out at all.

Because essentially coming out is the person in questions choice. It’s their privilege, it’s their right. It’s theirs.

It’s not the requirement so others around them feel better. It’s not a job requirement, a legal requirement any requirement at all. It’s not a must to prove you’re actually queer. If someone never comes out in their whole life it doesn’t negate their queerness.

Labelling oneself is not for others. It’s for the person.

For them to define themselves if they so wish to, for them to understand themselves, to learn themselves, to appreciate and love themselves.

To find others like them, to cut down time explaining to others if they so wish to about their preferences, expression, identity and so on.

Ok so with that out of the way

Jikook

- No I don’t think the show is them coming out

- Yes I think the show is to show what we already know and what is one hard fact, that Jikook are best friends and closer than close

- Yes, I’m hoping that it helps those that do know of them and don’t, to accept their closeness as not just co-workers in a group but as a very close duo within the group

- Yes I agree with you, the fandom as a whole, if they were to undeniably be known as a romantic non-heterosexual couple, wouldn’t fully embrace them how we would believe in 2024.

Sadly one of the things that comes along with boy bands is the fan girl in varying forms. The fan girl that no matter their proximity to the boy band member, their relationship status, their age, whatever, the fan girl puts their wants, beliefs and ideals onto them. They idolise their idol. Sadly the majority boy band fans and BTS’ fans idolise them, fantasise about them. Be it with themselves or a stand in they deem suitable, a woman.

Because heteronormativity is so rooted in their thinking, they can’t see their idols as anything but. What else could they do but be successful then have the wife, kids, pets and picket fence? If not that then the idol will remain the bad boy lothario of their fantasies even grey haired and weak backed.

For too many people in the world and too many in the fandom being gay first and foremost is seen as defective. To believe that about their idol would be ‘wrong’ in their eyes. If it was to be proven true it would cause an array of negative emotions, thoughts and actions. The most tame being to leave the fandom.

I’m a very pessimistic person, though I need and seek for positivity. Thats that’s chronic that anxiety & depression baby✨

I have grown up and am surrounded by a culture similar to the SK conservative culture when it comes to nearly everything, gender roles, sexuality etc. I am a minority from a culture that legally, religiously and socially oppresses queer people. I can without the Korean male element wholeheartedly understand being closeted in SK.

I can’t however understand being a celebrity of any kind, let alone a celebrity of their magnitude.

Jikook & Labelling

We have no clue. From context clues we can assume Jimin to be bisexual, but from nothing directly and explicitly verbalised by him. Through his art, many have drawn this conclusion. There are other assumptions that have been made by some to do with his gender expression and identity. He has only ever referred to himself as a 남자 [man] any and everytime in public. Yes we have evidence of him bucking masculine stereotypes and my understanding of him is that he’s growing and defining HIS understanding of what it is to be a man and it’s not what the society he’s grown up in deems it to be. I have my own views on Jungkook and his orientation *100% mlm gay*

However not everyone feels the need to label themselves or chooses to and we have no idea when it comes to Jikook, only assumptions. So Jikook may not feel the need to come out because they may not label themselves and feel the need to make that public knowledge through official statements, interviews, on tv etc.

I can’t see this ever being Jikook, just my opinion 🙈

Like you anon I believe they’ll just keep Jikooking. I don’t believe they would if they wanted to ever come out in a public official statement type of way, they’d just live their lives and let people think whatever they wanted to think.

And if they ever did, it’d most likely be when Bangtan are no longer continuously active, seeing as they want to perform on cruises etc in their 60s, who knows when that’ll ever be.

There are some of my friends that think the same as me and some that think they’ll totally come out in a big way one day and not decades and decades in the future.

If you were able to get to the end of this you’re a real one🙌💪

A topic like this is something that I couldn’t answer in a short way. I’m not even close to being finished with what I could say, it’s so nuanced and there’s soo much more that could be talked about but this is already wordy AF 😩

Thank you anon

💜

[akimoroll]

giving in to the love.

chapter 4. this could be a dream.

chapters: 1 — 2 — 3

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 6.8k—alternate universe—read on ao3

cw—mentions of abuse and death. alcoholism. smoking. fluff. angst. aged up characters with highschool flashbacks. eventual smut. pwp. pwf. please MDNI!

But if I touch you, would you feel it there?

Could I trust love even if I'm scared?

Oh, I wish I could give like I'm longing to give

Oh, I wish I could live like I'm longing to live

And I lift myself and I close my eyes

And I sing sometimes to know I'm alive

I know I should figure this out on my own

But if you come by, could you take me home?

You found yourself slowly waking up in an unfamiliar space, with the sun still low partially filtering through the white curtains. As you lazily roamed areas your eyes could reach, you become aware of the scent of faint chlorine and fresh laundered fabric filling the air of the bleak looking room you’re in. Overwhelmed by grogginess and aching throughout your whole body, you drifted back to sleep.

Gradually, the soft rays of sunshine became harsher and crept through the gap in the curtains, waking you once more. You fluttered your eyes open and winced both at the brightness and the pounding in your head. As you forced yourself to sit up, you could feel the discomfort of the situation. Your mind slowly pieced together what had transpired—

Where’s Rion?

And the car?

Mom’s going to be so mad.

What happened?

Did we get hit?

Where is—

A nurse entered the room, interrupting your thoughts. Upon seeing you awake, they called for the doctor. They described what took place and how fortunate you were to miraculously sustain only minor injuries. When you asked them about Rion, they didn’t disclose detailed information, but they did tell you that she had already passed away.

What? No way.

No.

“I think you made a mistake. Can you please check her name again?”

“I’m completely fine so she’s also okay, right?”

“I think you got it all wrong. Can I please go see her?”

While they provided nothing but empathy and understanding regarding your circumstances, your mom was an exception. It’s as if she cared more about the car and all the expenses in between.

After being discharged from the hospital, you made the decision not to return to school. With the weight of guilt and self-blame, attending school seemed unbearable. Your mother had already blamed you for the accident, so what was the point? You were sure that everyone in school thought the same thing too.

But not Aoi. She went over to your house and didn’t tag anyone along for fear of making you uncomfortable.

Ms. Satoda kept calling your mom but she never answered them.

It was an accident, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t listen to them.

You’re gonna be fine. Just try coming to school tomorrow.

And so you did but you were back to your old ways. Your everyday life became monotonous once again—wake up, school, home, sleep, repeat.

Yet on Valentines day, a surprise shook you from your routine.

“What’s this?” You confronted Nagumo in the empty basketball gym with a chocolate heart box in your hand and a note saying he’d wait for you after class.

“Chocolates?” He answered in a quizzical voice.

You found it in your locker before heading home. He hasn’t talked to you since the accident—not that you wanted him either—and you thought: Is this some kind of sick joke?

You let out an empty chuckle, “I know what it is. Why?”

He didn’t know how to approach you after what happened. He was aware of it being a delicate matter and was scared to push you away if he said or did the wrong thing. He hoped to talk to you and thought it would be nice to do it on the said day. And oh boy, was he wrong.

Apologetic, he said, “For valentines. I was hoping to talk to—”

“Valentines? Are you serious?” You interrupted him, “Can you stop it already?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“You thought what? That everything’s gonna be okay with just chocolate?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, “That’s not what that is—”

“Then what, Nagumo? What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. Just-” sighing, he clenched his jaw, “I’m worried, you know I care about you.”

“Oh, stop it, will you? You’re supposed to hate me!” You raised your voice.

Pinching his lips together, “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Rion died because of me! Are you stupid?!” You hissed.

“That’s not true. It was an accident.” He hissed back.

You scoffed, “You know nothing!”

He raised both his hands, “Alright fine, maybe I don’t know anything!” In a pleading tone, he said, “But can’t you just let me be here for you? I lost her too!”

And it feels like you’re next—is what he couldn’t say.

As hurt and guilt consumed you, your voice quieted, “All the more reason for you to leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes in regret, he stepped closer, “Listen, I’m sorry…” but you backed away.

“No,” you shake your head, averting his gaze, “you should stay away from me. It’s for the best.”

His shoulders slumped and it’s as if you took his heart with you as he watched your retreating figure grow farther and farther away until you were out of sight.

┊┊┊

Nagumo takes you to his place. You were hesitant at first but he said he’s home alone for a week, and you thought having company isn’t so bad so you went along. You reflect on the irony of the situation and couldn't help but find it funny. Here you were, sitting next to each other, burying your faces in bowls of spicy instant ramen—his attempt to make you feel better and it worked because it’s the best you’ve had in a while, sharing it with someone deeply familiar, feeling a sense of belonging, even if it was only temporary.

“This is so good, I’ve never tried this brand before,” you say with a mouthful of noodles.

He nods, grinning as he slurps his bowl clean, clearly enjoying it as much as you. He leans back on his chair, pushing back his bangs off his sweaty forehead.

Completely unaware of his gaze, you continue to eat with yours half full. As you raise the chopsticks to your lips, a few strands of your hair fall and almost dipped into the bowl. He leans forward after noticing it, his hand gently tucking the hair behind your ear. You paused and glanced at him as the moment hung in the air.

Clearing his throat, “Your hair was…do you want to watch a movie after this?” He blurts out, not knowing what to say exactly.

You open your mouth and close it again, squinting, “It’s 2 AM, aren’t you sleepy?”

He ponders, humming, “Not really. So, yes?”

“Do you really want me to pass out on your couch?” You joked and proceeded to finish your noodles.

He chuckles as he continues to watch you, itching to play with hair. He could smell you every time you moved, wondering if it’s your shampoo or perfume, taking him back to when he sat beside you at the pub and when he kissed the top of your hair back in his car.

Curious, he asks, “Are you wearing perfume?”

You look over your shoulder, pausing to think, “I am,” telling him exactly what it is, feeling good that he noticed, “Why?”

He nods as he makes a mental note. You smell edible, is what he wanted to say. He internally shakes his head, “It suits you.”

Your cheeks start heating up, you look away, “It’s my first time wearing it,” you go back to finishing your food.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction after learning you were wearing it for the first time—a silent claim, as if it’s a hidden part of you revealed to him alone.

You lean back on the chair as you glance at him with a satisfied smile, “Thanks for the meal.”

He catches a whiff again, unintentionally wetting his lips. He looks at you and then down to your lips, he taunts, “Your lips are puffy.”

With a lighthearted chuckle, you retort, “Yours too.”

He didn’t answer as he locked eyes with you and in that brief moment he had an inexplicable urge to be closer to you. He looks away, humming in response as he leans forward with his elbows on the table with eyes far away, rubbing his lips with his fingers.

You watch him. He hasn’t changed at all—he’s still a bit annoying with his constant boyish smile. Your eyes trail from his flowy hair to his nape, down to his strong looking shoulders and his evident toned back despite the thick fabric of his sweater. Well, maybe a little. He still slouches though. You smile inwardly.

“I should get going,” you say softly while still looking at him.

He turns to face you, resting his cheek on his palm, “Already?”

“I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You would've stayed if it was solely up to you, but he has grown increasingly silent. Maybe he’s tired?

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“I’ll just hail a cab,” you reassure him.

He doesn’t answer and instead gives you a wistful smile while his fingertips tap on the table. After a long pause, he stands and saunters through the living room to fetch your bag and your coat next to his on the couch.

You trail after him to the foyer, suddenly feeling the urge to ask him what’s wrong, “It was nice seeing you,” you managed to say instead.

He looks over his shoulder before turning around to face you fully, answering you with a mere nod as he stands by the door.

You swallow, he’s still so quiet, “Did I say something wrong?”

He chuckles, his eyes glossy, “No, you’re fine.” he shakes his head a little. Swallowing the lump in his throat, “It was nice seeing you too,” he continued.

The silence feels awkward and uncomfortable as you stand motionless, as if unsure of what to do next. You know you should be putting on your shoes and leaving, but your mind is elsewhere.

Your thoughts race as you desperately try to recall if there was something you said that might have hurt him. The thought of parting ways with him again on a negative note gnaws at you.

There’s a lump in your throat all of sudden.

When I pass through this door, I’ll never see him again.

Closure? Are you stupid?

I already apologized.

Him being married is closure enough.

I’m the only one stuck in the past.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it!

“Are you okay?” He asks, snatching you away from your thoughts.

Your eyes shot up to his face with concern written all over it. You swallow and blurted out, “I missed you.”

He solemnly smiles at you, “Hey,” shaking his head slightly before speaking, “You know you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me.”

Why am I like this? Embarrassed, you stammer as you avoid his gaze, “No, you’re right. Sorry, I was just-”

He exhaled deeply before speaking again, “Took you long enough.”

Dumbfounded, you glance up to him: Huh?

His gaze softens, “I missed you too,” he exhaled while looking up before he settled his eyes on you, “You still wanna go?”

His question lingered in the air, the weight of its implications hanging heavily between you.

“Yes,” you utter quietly.

He nods with a tight lipped smile. As his hand reaches for your shoes from the shoe rack, you continue, “…with you.”

He stops in his tracks, slowly turning to face you. His heart pounds in his chest as he begins to comprehend the meaning behind your words. As his eyes locked onto yours, he saw a subtle plea painted on your face.

Those two simple words from you were enough to make him rush towards you. He drops all your belongings to the floor, dismissing all boundaries that had once separated the two of you.

You froze with your eyes wide open but you didn't pull away this time. Instead, you open up to him, letting go of all restraints and fears. You closed your eyes and parted your lips willingly as he poured himself to you.

As your hands extend towards him, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He leans down and encircles his arms around your waist, lifting you off the floor as he kisses you tenderly, leaving you breathless.

He guides you across the hall to his bedroom with your feet lightly shuffling backwards. His lips remain attached to yours, holding you tightly against him, almost as if he’s afraid to let you go, terrified of the thought of losing you once again. To finally be able to hold you—to taste you—is the feeling that he’s longed for.

Your gasp echoes in the room as your back meets the softness of his bed, your hair splaying across the sheets. His mind goes into a haze as he looks at you, the feeling of longing overwhelming him.

He drinks the sight of you—breathless, on his bed, waiting and only for him. You feel vulnerable under his gaze, a look you’ve never seen from him before. Your lips were glistening from his doing. He wants more, every single part of you. Everything.

Desire starts pooling inside you as he takes off his sweater. Tattoos that were once hidden now come to surface. It takes you back to earlier that evening when you saw the ones on his neck and fingers, wondering if there were more.

As the soft light filters through his windows, you allow your eyes to wander the details on his body, his chest heaving, the contours of his toned muscles and the veins snaking around his forearms. He’s gorgeous and it’s making your head spin.

He hovers over you as he kisses you, all lips and tongue, and oh so slow as his touch becomes desperate, hands claiming everything he could reach. All mine, he thought.

He takes his sweet time savoring you as if the world outside the room you’re in doesn’t exist, like nothing else matters. Only the gentle sounds of your kissing and fabric rustling filled his dimly lit room, and only you on his mind.

Your fingers trace along the muscles of his back, making his hairs raise. He moans into your mouth as his senses heightened, he wants more of your touch, more of you.

He puts his hands gently at the back of your head and around your waist as his strong arms effortlessly lifts you further up the bed.

He halts the kiss, his absence intensified your craving for him. You miss him already.

His fingers find the hem of your sweater and with a subtle motion, you shift, allowing him to slip your sweater over your head. He tosses it to the side, he feels his knees getting weak with you all soft and exposed with just your lacey bra beneath him, “You’re an angel,” he breathes.

Feeling shy, you covered your face with a pillow, “Stop it,” your voice soft and quiet.

He smiles and takes the pillow from your grasp, his fingers brushing against your own. It’s true, you’re perfect, he whispered before claiming your lips once more.

He places gentle kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He loved the sound so much that he starts nipping at your earlobes to hear more, he laughs with you. He trails wet kisses from your jaw to your neck as he catches a whiff of your perfume—inhaling and sighing against your skin.

You shudder under his touch as his large hands worked quickly to unhook your bra, setting your tits free. He buries his face against your chest with careful hands caressing them. His tongue skimming past your hardened nipples as he savors every needy whimper from you. Your whole body is tingling, you arch your back from anticipation. You’re dying for more and he knows.

He smirks against your flushed skin as you grab a fistful of his hair. Always so impatient, he teases while looking at you. A pathetic whine is all you could manage as his mouth finally closed around your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue around it as if he wanted to swallow you entirely.

You shudder as he groans onto your tits, making you squeeze your legs together. You’re so sensitive, you writhed with every little thing his tongue does to you. He bites and flicks his tongue over it, making you gasp as heat builds up inside you.

You knot your hands to his hair, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate kiss, begging breathily: Yoichi, please.

I know—he whispers in between kisses—I’ll take care of you.

Hearing the aching in your voice, he pulls away, his trembling hands reaching for your pants, peeling it off with ease.

Your mind lifts as he runs his hand slowly over the lace of your panties. His fingers brushing over your clothed clit as his mouth circles around your nipples once again, you shudder.

His breath fans against the skin of your chest, hot and shaky. He hooks his fingers over the damp cloth of your panties, pulling it to the side. He’s so slow about it, making you moan—hurry.

His heart hammers in his chest, murmuring and hushing you, I’m here.

And then finally—his fingers brush between your folds, so warm, so wet just for him.

He presses his fingers onto your swollen clit as you buck your hips while your hands grip onto his forearm, begging him to move.

And move is what he does—fingers brushing and pressing all over your wet pussy, turning you into a whining mess.

His hand leaves you as he puts his fingers inside his mouth—licking and sucking your wetness—just to bring it back between your thighs, smearing his spit all over your cunt.

Dark brown half lidded eyes watching you intently as he slowly inserts one—your mouth drops open. He stretches you, with his finger for the first time. Slowly sinking deeper and deeper. You clench around him as he pushes it all the way inside.

I can’t wait to fuck you, he murmur, his thumb pressing circles over your clit. He curls his finger inside you, hitting the right spots, eliciting sweet sounds from you.

And then he adds another, your legs start to tense.

Fuck—is all you could whimper.

Soon, he smirks before claiming your lips. His kisses become sloppy as it trailed down to your chest, his lips all over you—moaning against your skin—as his desire grows more for you.

The knot in your lower abdomen tightens as wet sounds from your pussy and your labored breathing fills his quiet room. Your fingers cards through his hair as his digits curl, pushing in and out of your dripping wet cunt, making a mess on his bedsheets.

…feels so good. So good.

Your voice is so sweet, telling him you’re so close to cumming, making his already hard cock pulse in his pants.

He’s so good with his hands, you could feel yourself trembling, clamping on his fingers inside of you. He watches you intently, anticipating for you to unravel for him but you pull him into a desperate kiss as you feel the tension snap. He moans with you as he finger fucks you through your orgasm, pleasure rolling all over you.

He makes you cum for the first time and he’s barely even done anything. He keeps his eyes on you as yours flutters while he bites lightly at your lower lip, continuously gasping into his mouth.

He places soft kisses on your forehead as your body starts to calm down, cooing, you’re lovely, and other sweet nothings. He pulls his coated fingers out from you, making you gasp and clench around nothing. He licks and sucks on it, tasting your juices as he lays beside you. He lets you rest.

You turn your head to meet his gaze. He’s still the same Yoichi; still so patient and always willing to care for you. Your heart swells when he looks back at you with affection. It’s pathetic. Almost comical how you’ve pushed him away, afraid of the implications you might cause if you stay. Just for you to crawl back to him years later, a familiar place, seeking for a different outcome—knowing full well you shouldn’t.

“Let me take care of you too,” you say softly.

You don’t wait for him to answer as you sit up on the bed, reaching for his face. You brush away the hairs sticking on his forehead.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs with his hand playing with the tips of your hair.

“But I want to,” you whisper, caressing his bulge. You lean forward and kiss him softly.

He let out a sharp breath when you move between his thighs, his eyebrows furrowing to the gentle and suggestive touch over his clothed cock. He struggles to maintain his composure, the sensation causing his body to tense slightly.

Your fingers work the belt free from the loops as his breathing grows heavier. The clink of the buckle hitting the floor echoes through the space. Slowly, teasingly, you lower the zipper, revealing the straining bulge beneath.

His hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more of your touch. Desire washed over you at how desperate he already is, you want to make him feel so good.

Hooking on the waistband, you tug his pants and boxers down in a smooth motion. His erection springs free making your mouth water. He’s big, you swallow.

You wrap your trembling fingers around the base as you slowly stroke his cock, making him shudder from the warmth of your palm. He’s so hard for you.

His eyes—usually so intent and focused—begin fluttering shut, his breathing becomes shallow and you haven’t done anything yet. You spit messily on the tip of his dick. He inhales sharply as you smear it all over, making his abs flex under your palm, rippling every time he breathes.

He’s lost it, mind ascending as you swallow up his cock—slowly, all the way. The tip of your nose hits his pelvis as he twitches inside your throat. You glance up at him as you gag on him balls deep.

As you keep your eyes on him, he drinks the sight of you: Who else…? His brows knit as his mind starts to cloud with jealousy and overwhelming desire. He’s far gone, murmuring your name, slurring curses under his breath. He reaches for your hand that's caressing his abdomen, intertwining it with his.

His whimpers and groans vibrated throughout the room, moaning from the soft, wet flesh of your cheeks and tongue. You pull back all the way, only for you to swallow him whole again, licking all over the tip in between. His dick buried in your mouth, bobbing your head again and again, and again.

He promptly sits up as he pulls you to him, making you gasp. He doesn’t want to cum, not yet. Strong arms guiding you to straddle him as he kisses you with desperation, bringing your bodies closer together. His fingers tugs on the waistband of your panties.

Let me taste you.

He murmured, motioning you to sit on his face. He’s aching to taste you, to make you cum again. You obey as you take off your panties with him helping you. He reaches for your hands as he reclines back on the bed, helping you move up a little.

Your legs tremble as you plant your knees on the mattress, your dripping wet pussy hovering over his face. He nods to you with pleading eyes, asking you to go lower with hands caressing your hips—come here.

You nod as you grip onto the bed’s headboard, lowering yourself to his face. He places sweet wet kisses on the inside of your thighs, making you shudder as you clench to nothing. The heat of your pussy finally touched his lips. You’re so sweet, pretty, and wet from earlier when he fucked you with just his hands.

He knows you’re still sensitive so he glances up to you as he gently licks your slit, teasing you, too light, like kitten licks, a whimper escapes your lips—more—making his dick twitch from the sweetness of your voice. Adamant to make you feel good, he glides his tongue all over your clit adding a little pressure this time, you shudder, your legs trembling.

So wet, he murmurs. He could bathe in your wetness, your pussy dripping for him. You let go as he gestures to you to sit all the way, wanting to drown in your pretty pussy. You whine as you press yourself onto his face.

He repeatedly runs his tongue over your clit as you gradually relax yourself—mewling and bucking your hips while you ride his face. As you get louder and louder, his dick gets harder. He’s making a mess out of you as he sucks on your clit in between flicks of his tongue, your juices dripping down his chin.

He glances up to you, slowly taking your hands from the headboard as he guides you to place them over your tits. He places his hands on top of your own as you begin touching yourself. Every ounce of shame and guilt leaves your body—everything feels so good.

A smile creeps in while he watches you, almost making him cum with the thought of you using him—murmuring how he makes you feel good, how you’re so close.

He stills his tongue out as you move your hips back and forth with his hands sliding down your waist, squeezing the softness of your skin, moaning into your pussy, encouraging you to keep going.

Your whines become needy, grinding on his tongue becomes messy. He aches for it. He wants nothing more than for him to be the reason for your undoing. A couple of more rolls of your hips, a couple flicks of his tongue, the knot in your abdomen finally snap. You shudder, riding his face as you come undone for him, making him rut into nothing.

He grips on your waist to pin you in place. He keeps sucking and licking—he’s drinking you, as if wringing every drop from you while you clench around nothing. You gasp from being oversensitive, your whole body tingling.

He pulls you down, flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath his larger frame—his kiss so hungry and demanding. You moan into it as you taste yourself on his lips while he’s grinding his dick against your sensitive cunt, you cover him with your wetness. He can’t wait to make you feel even better; to make a mess out of you.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, he’s feverishly hot to the touch. He breaks away from the kiss, his weight suspended over you. You lean into his touch as he palms your cheek, his eyes searching your face, panting: Tell me you want me like I want you.

His voice is throaty, shaky, desperate. Eyes so eager and intense it could pierce right through you. He looks so lovesick that it almost hurts.

I want you, Yoichi.

Please, I need you—you choke on your sob.

He could almost feel himself ascending with the way you’re begging him, the feeling of you wanting him, offering yourself so willingly. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting, he’s dying to be inside you anyway. He pulls away a little, his hand dwarfing your waist, the other holding his dick to tease your entrance with his tip.

His precum mixes with your wetness as you lift your hips—bucking and aching for more of him. He stays like that for a while with his hands spreading your legs wide open.

Look at you, he murmurs. You swear you can almost see the hearts swimming in his eyes with the way he’s looking at you, you could cry. If only, you thought. He’s gonna give it to you, pour himself to you—all of it. All of me, he thinks. He was yours from the start anyway, even though he knows after all this you’re gonna run away like you always do.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, he shudders as you squeeze it, gliding your palms back and forth, hard and throbbing in your hands. He watches you with mouth slightly open, keeping his eyes focused, tracking your hand on him, exhaling, “Fuck—”

“I need you, hurry,” you beg breathlessly.

His brows furrowed as he moves lower, you hold onto his arms as he slides his cock from your clit to your entrance—gathering his precum and your wetness—fucking you through your folds. His breaths become fast and heavy, eyes locked on your pussy wide open for him.

He stops, he’s about to finally do it, and you can feel it. He slaps his length lightly over your swollen clit a couple of times, making you gasp. He pushes it in, slowly, just the tip. You look into each other’s eyes as you moan at the same time. He’s filling you up, stretching your walls. He’s going to make love to you—for the very first time—and you will take it; you will let him.

He shudders, breath shaky and heavy—Fuck, you’re so wet—slurring his words.

You clench on his dick as he pushes in further, he’s so snug inside you, so fucking hard for you. All you could do is whimper and hold onto him as you try accomodating to his size.

God, you feel so good. You’re squeezing me—he says, every word soft and airy—making your toes curl on his soft bed sheets—while he pushes his throbbing length deeper and deeper.

Your mouth drops open as he bottoms out, taking him balls deep. He leans closer to you, claiming your lips—sloppy, messy kisses as he pulls his cocks all the way out and thrusts all the way in, you moan into each other’s mouth.

He fucks you a little harder. So good, you fuck so good, you’re slurring your words. Your moans so sweet making him fuck you a litte faster, his cock throbbing inside you, his bedsheets absorbing the wetness gushing from your cunt.

He slows down, pulling away from the kiss. Look at it, he murmurs as you both watch his cock sinking down your dripping pussy. His brows knit with his mouth open as he watches himself move in and out of you—your wetness coating his entire length, creaming at the base—his groans thick with pleasure: Look how you’re taking me.

His hands meet the back of your knees, folding you, spreading your legs open for him. Your moans turn into sweet sobs of his name as he thrusts into you harder, deeper, with your legs above his shoulders. His breaths thick and heavy fanning over your contorted face.

The flesh of your thighs ripple every time his hips collide into you. His room once so quiet now filled with slapping wet sounds and your whines as he fucks you hard, your head slightly hitting the headboard while his cock hits all the right spots. He leans in for a kiss before resting his forehead on yours, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips.

You breathe out—Why?

He slows down his pace, rolling his hips you can feel him in your belly. He shakes his head and smiles, murmuring before kissing you again—you drive me insane.

Your mind goes numb as he puts his weight on you, folding you further in half. His hands snaked your back and settled on your shoulders, keeping you in place as he thrust himself deeper. You become a teary whining mess, begging for more as he bottoms out. Your walls clench around his cock, drooling all over his sheets. He sinks deeper, burying himself inside you, he’s making sure you’d remember him and you’d feel him for days after you leave.

He lifts you with him as he sits up, bringing you closer to him, he wants nothing more than the warmth of your skin. You wrap your arms and legs around him, slurring—I’m close, Yoichi.

I know, I got you, he coos. His voice is so sweet, so full of affection for you.

You can see his face clearly—mouth agape, breathing heavily with his eyes in a dreamlike state—as you grind down on him. His shuddering, his hands traveling all over your back down to your ass, squeezing, spreading you open as he fucks you deep.

You clench around him as you roll your hips over him again and again, your pussy swallowing him whole, chasing your high as you fuck yourself with his cock, telling him how good he’s fucking you. His eyes struggle to keep his gaze fixed on you as his eyes roll back from pleasure, mumbling curses under his breath.

Possessiveness hazing his mind. His lips meet your skin, placing wet kisses to your neck down to your chest, biting, sucking until it stings—marking what’s his. He’s worshiping you, murmuring your name, telling you how you’re so beautiful and how your pussy takes him so well, desperate to show how much he wants you, that he’s the only one who could make you feel this good.

His hands abruptly grips your waist, making you stop. You can feel him throbbing inside you as he breathes heavily against your skin, “What’s wrong?” You pant, concerned.

He chuckles, swallowing in between heavy breaths, holding you tightly against him, “Fuck, sorry, I just-” he looks up to you, his cheeks flushed, skin glistening, searching your face, “I don’t want this to be over.”

Your expression softens, like everything within you is melting. He’s so pretty, you could cry, “It’s okay,” you whisper, pushing his hair up from his sweaty forehead before cupping his face—a tender kiss, “You can have me again.”

He wasted no time, everything he’s holding back, he lets go. Pushing you back on the bed, he pins your hands above your head, your foreheads meet, sweat mixing. He fucks you deeper—face to face—with his other hand on the small of your back, thrusting you into him.

You exchange heavy, shaky breaths as he moves in and out of you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock as you chase your release alongside him, craving for more friction with him inside you.

He gets sloppier, his thrusts, his words, slurring vulgar things to you—voice thick with pleasure. He releases his hand on your wrist to grab the cheeks of your ass, lifting you. He’s thrusting steadily and deeply, burying his cock so far inside you can’t think of anything else but him fucking you.

You clench around him, you’re close—it’s building up. Your pussy drools everytime he plunges inside you, dripping down your ass onto his bed.

I’m so close—he groans, breathy and desperate—I wanna fill you up—he chokes on his gasp—Can I?

Yes, yes, Yoichi, please I want it.

Fuck—he gasps—so fucking good to me.

Your moaning gets louder, arching your back as his thrusts gets messier, fucking you a little faster, you’re about cum: Yoichi, I’m—

The pleasure hits, your walls clenching, squeezing all around his cock. He’s hitting all the right spots making you a whining mess as you ride out your orgasm with your eyes rolling back, your hearing getting dull.

He leans forward to kiss you sloppily, his breaths shaky as he moans into your mouth. His thrusts become messier, I’m cumming—gonna fill you up, yeah? He murmurs against your lips. You’re still clenching around him, milking his cock for cum as you feel the warmth shooting inside you.

He fucks you lazily, cum gushing out of you with every slow thrust. He’s groaning against your neck, his brows knitted and eyes shut as you hold him tightly in an embrace. You feel all sticky and sweaty, and so debauched under him as his dick throb inside you.

He stays inside you for a while, bodies limp as the two of you come down from your high. Both of you so fucked out. Slowly, you become aware of everything around you. It’s quiet with just the sounds of your breathing.

He lifts his head to face you, he plants a soft kiss on your lips before pulling his still hard cock, a glistening white mess. You clench around nothing, his cum dripping out of you with his eyes on your pussy. Fuck—he sighs.

He asks, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

He peppers your face with kisses, his voice laced with mischief, “That we can go again?”

You chuckle, “Mhm.”

He was relentless. The two of you went on and on and on—you almost regretted saying yes everytime he asked one more. The last thing you could remember was his lips against your forehead as the room began to brighten from the morning sun. He was whispering sweet nothings while he played with your fingers before you eventually passed out.

┊┊┊

Shitshitshit—you whisper. You’re hastily getting dressed while Nagumo remains fast asleep, his back facing you. With a trembling hand, you reach for the doorknob, carefully and quietly opening the door to his bedroom as you prepare to leave.

As you stand still and glance at his sleeping figure over your shoulder, you feel overwhelmed with regret at having to go through this cycle again, wishing for things to have turned out differently. But sometimes life is funny like that.

He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, reminding you of his consistent kindness towards you. Your thoughts turn to the disruption you always bring into his life, making you wince inwardly.

It’s a shame, you were too late.

As you sneak across the hallway and into the living room, you hunt for your belongings. While looking around, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of the numerous love marks he had left on your skin. Thank fucking god for scarfs.

Upon reaching the foyer, you spot your coat and bag on the floor, remembering how it all went down between you and him. You grimace—what was I thinking?—as you put on your coat and pull out the scarf from your bag, wrapping it around your neck to hide evidence of your impulsive decision.

You freeze after hearing movements from his bedroom. You swear you haven’t put shoes on that fast in your life as you dashed through the door.

As you settle yourself in a taxi cab, you become aware of the aches in your body. Looking out the window, you ponder about last night’s escapade. Very very stupid move, you thought, shame and regret gnawing at you. But you couldn’t deny how good he was, if anything, he’s the best you’ve had. He made you feel so desirable, so cared for, so loved—

Love? Are you serious? You unintentionally tighten your fist as you feel a smile creeping in. A strange sensation breaks you away from your thoughts, you look at your hand. There it is, Nagumo’s wedding ring, hanging loosely around your ring finger.

Huh?

What was he thinking?

You faintly remember him playing with your fingers before falling asleep from exhaustion.

That clown.

He’s so childish.

I’ll mail it to Taro.

Your hand rummages around your bag as you search for your phone but it’s nowhere to be found. You let out a deep sigh with a frown on your face, thinking about the series of unfortunate events that seemed never-ending.

You carefully feel around the pocket area of your coat—Oh, it’s here. Reaching inside, you grab your phone, but upon pulling it out, something accidentally slipped out and fell.

Picking it up from the carpeted taxi floor, you mumble, “What’s this?”

A polaroid?

As you study it, you recall the photo that was lying on the dashboard of his car. It’s a little crumpled but it’s quite new. Annoyance starts creeping in: That little shit and his pranks.

This is taking it too far.

You start taking offense: He cheats on his wife with me and now he puts her picture in my pocket?

You shoved it inside your bag and took off his ring from your finger. For safekeeping, you decide to put it in one of the pockets of your bag. As you were about to drop it, you saw a detail from the ring. Curious, you look closely, checking the engraved details inside—it’s the same as your initials. Weird.

Puzzled, you instinctively pull out the photo again. You keep studying it, you can't see her face properly with her back almost facing the camera. Feeling a tinge of jealousy from her mysterious nature, you brush it off quickly. It’s a stolen shot, you observe.

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, something is weirdly familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it is. The place looks familiar, it’s like you’ve been there before. That’s impossible, you think.

You ponder, Taro did mention Nagumo travels a lot. Maybe he takes her with him? Your heart starts to pick up when you recognize what she’s wearing—I have one like this too.

Wait.

The place was the beach you went to earlier this year. Slowly, it starts dawning on you.

No fucking way.

With a trembling hand on your mouth, you question—

Is this me?

You look closely, eyes frantically scanning the photograph with your breath stuck in your throat. You start to recognize yourself: the hair, the dress, the wine in hand, the white sand, the sunset.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you mumble, “It is me.”

But how?

[rosietrace]

⟨ The Inheritance Games ⟩ | “I wouldn't marry me, either.”

CHAPTER 1 — The girl from New Castle, Connecticut

The Inheritance Games belongs to Jennifer Lynn Barnes

SYNOPSIS — What if things had been different, when Avery inherited the old man's fortune? What if Alisa did some puzzle solving of her own, and what if Nash started to feel something for Alisa he thought he'd never feel in a long time?

MAIN TAGS — Canon divergence, Exes to Lovers, slowburn, angst with happy ending, suggestive-ish, oc inserts, WHAT-IF, mention of character death

| [ The Following is a fanfiction that drifts away from the original source material. If you aren't interested in anything relating to Alisa Ortega, Nash Hawthorne, or anything about The Inheritance Games in general, this fic probably isn't for you. ] |

“Who is Avery Kylie Grambs?”

Was a question Alisa had asked before her father had elaborated further on the matter of ‘Avery Kylie Grambs’.

Mr. Ortega was understanding of his daughter's puzzled feelings on the matter, and was well aware that Alisa hadn't been in the best of moods recently.

Ever since the death of Tobias Hawthorne, the media hounded the Hawthorne family and everyone remotely Hawthorne-adjacent for even the tiniest sliver of information they could capitalize; what didn't help was the continuous persistence of Skye, Zara, and Zara's husband Constantine on getting the Will reading over with.

Skye, worst of all, revelling in the attention-hogging media outlets and just barely given enough assurances of the Will reading to not, metaphorically, drop a bomb on the press.

Naturally, Mr. Ortega only discussed the facts with his daughter in regards to the situation of the mystery girl listed in the required presence.

“Avery Kylie Grambs is a seventeen year old girl currently residing in New Castle, Connecticut,” her father had begun with his overview, “her mother had died two years prior, and her biological father is notably absent from her life.”

As her father continued to give a rundown of information on Avery, Alisa had quietly listed each of them down in her head, one by one.

Avery — or as Alisa had referred to her, “Ms. Grambs” — had lost her mother when she was fifteen, and for a majority of her life, her father had been notably absent and hadn't bothered to reach out to her. After the death of her mother, Avery was taken under the care of her half sister— Libby Grambs.

The girl was just barely scraping by, working at a hole-in-the-wall diner. Alisa's eyebrows knitted together as she processed the rest of the information her father provided for her about Ms. Grambs.

Everything else had gone deaf to Alisa, too focused on listening to her father's provided Intel than on anything else; all until Mr. Ortega had finished his overview of Avery's life with, “For the better part of three weeks, the firm had been sending letters to Ms. Grambs inviting her to the reading of Mr. Hawthorne's Will.”

“As of yesterday, Grayson Hawthorne had taken it upon himself to pay a visit to Ms. Grambs’ high school— and she is currently on a flight to Texas with her sister, and is expected to arrive tomorrow.”

Alisa nodded. “And what exactly must I do in regards to Ms. Grambs’ attendance of the Will reading?”

Alisa had expected anything but the response her father had provided her. “You will be representing the firm as her liaison during her visit.”

She blinked a multitude of times, eighteen times, total. “What?”

⊱────────────────────⊰

And that was how she'd gotten her in this situation— exiting a black sedan in an all dare-the-devil-to-ruin-it white power suit, and waiting for Avery and Libby Grambs to move past security.

The second they did, Alisa drew near. “Ms. Grambs,” from one girl to the next, she nodded to Avery, then to her sister, adding on an identical greeting. “Ms. Grambs.”

She turned, very well expecting the two girls to follow and keeping up a professional stance once they did. “I'm Alisa Ortega,” Alisa said, “from McNamara, Ortega, and Jones.”

A pause, then a continuation. “You are a very hard young woman to get ahold of,” Alisa cast a sideways glance at Avery.

To which Avery simply shrugged. “I live in my car.”

“She doesn't live there,” Libby Grambs interjected quickly. “Tell her you don't.”

A hum left Alisa's lips before she continued her very obviously perfunctory speech of greeting for the two Grambs daughters.

“We're so glad you could make it.”

Alisa added, “During your time in Texas, you're to consider yourselves guests of the Hawthorne family. I'll be your liaison to the firm. Anything you need while you're here, come to me.”

Casting another glance at Avery, Alisa could guess what the girl was thinking from a mile away; Usually, lawyers bill by the hour, but the Hawthorne family was a family with more means than the average family.

She has a very expressive face, Alisa thought, barely managing to stop a bare hint of a smirk on her face.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Alisa asked, striding toward an automatic door without so much as slowing her pace when it seemed like the door might not open in time.

Avery waited before she could reply. “How about some information?”

What a way to narrow it down. “You'll have to be more specific.”

“Do you know what's in the will?”

“I do not.”

Turning a corner, Alisa gestured to a black sedan idling near the curb, opening the back door for Avery and her sister before she occupied the passenger seat.

She sent the driver — one of Oren's men — a glance. And in reply, they grunted out an acknowledgement to go along with a nod.

Only then did Alisa continue speaking. “You’ll find out what's in the will soon enough,” Alisa said, her words crisp and neat as much as her dare-the-devil-to-ruin-it white suit.

“We all will. The reading is scheduled for shortly after your arrival at Hawthorne House.”

Based on the dazed expressions from both Avery and her sister, Alisa could at least understand their befuddlement. Hawthorne House, not the Hawthornes’ house. Like some kind of English manor, complete with its own name.

“Is that where we'll be staying?” Libby Grambs asked, her head tilted. “Hawthorne House?”

“You'll have your pick of bedrooms,” Alisa assured, leaning the side of her face against her fist. “Mr. Hawthorne bought the land the House is built on more than fifty years ago and spent every one of those years adding into the architectural marvel he built there.”

Alisa looked out of the window, the black sedan passing by a multitude of sky-high office buildings, hotels. With the movements of those outside slowed down.

“I've lost track of the number of bedrooms, but it's upward of thirty. Hawthorne House is… quite something.”

To which Avery pressed her luck by saying, “I'm guessing Mr. Hawthorne was quite something, too?”

Alisa gave the ‘mystery girl’ a glance. “Good guess,” she said, “Mr. Hawthorne was fond of good guessers.”

Assessing the look on Avery's face, Alisa pitied the girl. A girl who knew nothing on why she was listed in the Will, none the wiser to anything the old man had planned for this day.

It was Avery's sister's turn to ask questions, now. “How well did you know him?”

“My father has been Tobias Hawthorne's attorney since before I was born.” Alisa's voice softened. She thought about her father, her mother, the love they shared; the time she spent in Hawthorne House, getting lost in the walls of the mansion and playing games of mystery and puzzle solving.

“I spent a lot of time at Hawthorne House, growing up.”

Tobias Hawthorne wasn't just a client to Alisa. He was more than that. It wasn't just his grandsons the old man had a hand in raising.

“Do you have any idea why I'm here?” Asked Avery. “Why he'd leave me anything at all?”

“Are you the world-saving type?”

Hardly an ordinary question, Avery must've thought. Alisa would've agreed; but she felt obligated to assess who Avery Kylie Grambs was— where she stood.

“No?” The tone of Avery's voice was of the guessing type.

Another question. A continuation, a curiosity. “Ever had your life ruined by a Hawthorne?”

Avery sounded more sure of herself when she answered. “No.”

Alisa smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She thought about that vow she'd made, that promise to both herself... and to Nash. Never lose your heart to a Hawthorne.

“Lucky you.”

TAGLIST

None so far. . .

[hoeforhao]

Champagne and Spirits | SEUNGCHEOL FF |

Pairing : seungcheol × fem!reader (ft. joshua)

MINORS DNI! MINORS DNI! MINORS DNI!

⤷ genre: smut (with feelings),slight angst, fluff, jealousy sex, alcohol consumption, explicit language/cursing, scared to love reader, cold but caring for reader seungcheol.

⤷ tags{part 2} : sensual foreplay,rough sex,praise,slight bondage,hair tugging, fingering, pet names, hickeys/marking, body worship, oral (m receiving), size kink, unprotected sex(reader will be starting birth control after),creampie,overstimulation, orgasm denial, aftercare.

⤷ synopsis: seeing the one who has your heart, with other women on a cruise ship, while you're trying to deny your feelings and stay away, is definitely not an ideal situation for a holiday.

⤷ part: 1/2 {part 2}

⤷ word count: 1.1k

⤷ author’s note: This is my first work as well as my first time posting here. I hope you like my absolute shitty writing and if you do...

Likes, comments and reblogs will be really appreciated

"I guess I'm too late" you mumble to yourself, as your eyes are fixated on the tall, dark haired and beady eyed man infront of you ; looking like he's having the best time of his life with a woman who looks equally as heavenly as him.

You met Seungcheol for the first time at Fluffball Daycare & Veterinary, 7 months ago when you took Ms Carrot for a daily checkup at the clinic. It would be a lie to say you weren't completely smitten by his big sunshine smile and glistening doe eyes while he played with your small yet feisty black cat. Word had it that Mr Choi was the best pet surgeon in the entire town and so it was quite natural for you to take Carrot to him, as soon as her breathing troubles started getting worse.

After a series of tests,it was revealed that your most loved being, your cat, had stage 1 Nasal Cavity Cancer, which was fortunately curable by surgery. Thus, for the next 2 weeks you had to make frequent visits to the clinic to get all the papers ready as well as prep Ms Carrot.

After the successful surgery, Seungcheol suggested that for Carrot to heal fast, he needs to visit your place everyday to look after her condition and control the medications. For an introvert like you, it was quite a task to let someone invade your space daily, but your baby mattered to you the most. Also as if you weren't highly attracted to Mr Choi!!!!!

The next 4 months was like a potion of serene bliss mixed with a sinful curse. As your closeness to Cheol started increasing through the visits, you felt yourself in a turmoil trying not to break the rock hard wall created around your heart ; But can you blame yourself? The way he takes care of you along with your cat, never overstepped your boundaries, always checking up on you in the middle of the night to ensure you've slept or not,complementing you at every glance he takes in of you, making you turn into a blushing mess everytime he's around...HOW CAN SOMEONE NOT POSSIBLY FALL FOR HIM? Day by day you feel the condition worsen as you're inexplicably drawn even closer to him, but you knew you had to stop yourself....FOR CHEOL'S GOOD!

And finally after all those months of serenity and happiness, the day you've been dreading throughout this period was finally here ; it was his last visit for Carrot to your house, and as you two stand across the door, hearts beating in unison at the rate of a storm, your mind clouded with all the messed up thoughts : Seungcheol looks up at you, his glistening eyes piercing daggers into your soul, as if looking for an answer. Oblivious of his stares, you bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, making yourself understand that the best option is to let him go.

That day, you were so consumed in your thoughts that you failed to see the older's teary eyes while he shakily spoke "Bye Y/n. I'll always keep the time spent with you and Carrot close to my heart. Only if I had the luck to keep you close to me and my heart too". He whispered the last line, so you could only hear some mumbles.

While you were reminiscing all these memories with him, you didn't realize that a gazillion of judgy eyes were staring at you from various corners as you stood in the midst of the reception, face completely stained with tears.

"I need to get out of here fast, before anyone sees me like this ,specially him" you mumble to yourself as you impulsively lift your heels to head towards deck 4, where your room was... completely forgetting the fact that you're not an evening gown and stilletos person.

And what's the aftermath of your stupidity? Not even five steps down, and you tumble upon your own dress's slit, closing your eyes and waiting for the marble to hit you into unconsciousness.

"Why don't I feel any pain? Am I dead? Is this heaven? Nah no way I'll be allowed in heaven with such an unholy mind .But why do I hear the loud chatterings tho. Did I go numb from the impact?" you start questioning yourself, not noticing the pair of cold hands on your bare back(you had the audacity to wear a backless champagne dress being such a noob), strongly holding you from the fall.

Coming out of the trance, you slowly open your eyes and bring them up to look at the man that was now holding you pressed against his hard defined chest. A sudden wave of sparks rushed through your entire system as you steadily took in his features; satin soft black hair adorning his forehead, almond shaped eyes that shone as bright as a star and his distinctive smile, capable of making anyone fall head over heels in an instant.

"It's rude to keep staring at someone like that you know, right Ms?" A soft angelic voice cooed in your ears, pulling you out of the daydream.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stare at you like that" you blurt out almost instantly, looking down with red flushed cheeks.

"It's fine. I'm used to such flustered gazes." The man spoke with a sheepish smirk.

"Thank you so much for saving me. I would've ripped my dress if it hadn't been for you."

"I'm afraid that just a thank you won't be a fair price for saving such a beautiful gown. Don't you think so yourself Ms?"he asked with a raised eyebrow.

You've always been of the overly courteous type, so the demand of the man infront of you, seemed quite justified.

"Tell me how can i repay your kindness, Mr?" you emphasized on the Mr with a questioning tone, in order to let him know that you were interested in knowing his name.

"It's Joshua Hong. But you can call me Josh." he answered promptly, resting your curiosity. "How 'bout you buy me a drink from the counter and we sit over for a small pretty conversation about how you ended up crying in such a loud party?"

Your cheeks again flushed bright crimson red, but this time from embarrassment, now that he mentioned the crying part. Not being able to form words anymore, you just hummed in response while he snaked his arms around your waist and escorted you to the bar.

Little did you know, a shroud pair of eyes was keeping a watch on you from the very beginning and taking in your each and every move made with Joshua.

[hocuspocusbabyy]

Learn to speak: Cressida x Eloise. 🦢🕊️

Description: Eloise and Cressida are revealed before the entire Ton.

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x Cressida Cowper

Warning: I just mega bloody sad?

Cressida raced from the Bridgerton ballroom, a familiar brunette not far beyond her trace as they reached the outside. Each stumbling down the stairs one by one till they came to stand still beyond the pond. Eloise’s hand reaching out to harshly grasp and turn the fleeting blonde.

She loved her in the same way, she knows. Unavoidably, inevitably steadfast and utterly annihilating. Neither one of them willing to compromise their own success and needs for an inch for it. They lived as the sun did for the moon, in a tedious notion of inexplicable power and fatuous existence.

Cressida pulled away, her anger vibrant upon her burning flesh. The object of their miss fortune grasped within the fingers.

A book.

Titled.

‘Anything, Everything, Neither here, nor there.’ By Ms Eloise Bridgerton.

She was to be published. It had been announced at the party, copies were passed around, read aloud and celebrated. The minute the book had been finished; Cressida ran.

“Miss Bridgerton I must implore you to return to the party, I do not trust myself right now.” Cressida begged, her fists balled, her hair slowly falling from its structure with each pass of sodden air. The other woman’s fringe suddenly clumped aside her head.

Eloise watched as the rain displaced around them; every inch of bare skin and drought covered. The amassable green hue of grass and blue eyes she had come to wish she never knew. Dew and tears being one and the same as their bones grew heavy, dampened by more than just the weather. Cressida rooted in the place where she had left her, figure sodden and shivered like that of a disturbed hourglass the sand? her resolution from months before. They hadn’t spoken since her decision, they sort no need to - she had made her choice, a solution for the both of them.

“So this is how we end—-you’re finally going through with it?” She asked, although questioning seemed so tedious now. Hair plastered to her face as the wind around them seemed to whip and tumble in a similar motion to how her stomach felt. Watching the woman she cared for walk away. “You’re leaving?”

The words bitter upon her tongue, as though the sweetest poison. One she could not help but drink from, if words were to hurt let them be spoke to her. Every syllable since they’d met had been for her anyway, each memory plagued with the tall blonde figure before her.

“It was never a matter of if Lou,” The blonde called forward her eyes still transfixed on the increasingly sodden pages of the book within her hand. “Only when.” She mumbled worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Then why now?” The Brunette called back her fists balled in frustration, the other woman still lacking to give her, her full attention. A meter between them, conflicting sources of emotion weaved between them.

They were beginning to attract a crowd. The surrounding guards and servants suddenly facing towards them.

The book heavy and weak within the blondes grasp. The authors title slipped down the page, falling into a pile of mush upon the ground.

“Am I C in your book? I think I must be.” Cressida’s called out, shoulders jutting forward as the rain persisted, hammering down upon her slender frame. Soaked, exhausted by her own mind, her only wish to crawl into the carriage and have no memory of this life.

“Mrs Debling.” Eloise whispered, suddenly unwell in her voice. Her wrists ached to reach ahead hold onto her, to slap her stupid, to kiss her blue.

“Don’t.” Cressida’s whimpered, her lip trapped beneath her tongue as she desperately shook her head in attempt to bush away oncoming tears. “Do not reduce me to that. I take no ownership of his name.”

“Cress, It is fiction. You cannot misjudge this, do not allow my illusions, my—-my. This infatuation is not lost on me, I apologise if my words were misunderstood.”

Cressida cleared her throat, lifting the book between them as she read. “C had an unobtainable attention, every passing hour drew on in her presence. In the most disturbing and literal sense C had entrapped me. You believe I trapped you? That I am merely a hyperactive bore?”

“That is not—- that is not what that means, not in its sense.” Eloise tried to reason, her mouth opening and shutting a few times before finally speaking. The sudden opening of ballroom doors sounding above them. The approaching footing, large and multiple.

“That please explain to me Miss Bridgerton, how else is it to be seen? Explain, as you clearly view me as too dim to understand.”

“Cressida, you are not thinking clearly. My words are of admiration.”

“You admire the—- how did you put it? The Swan with the heart of a duckling?”

“Yes— yes Cress I do, I admire your innocence, your questions. I crave to understand your every thought.”

“Why do you write such things if you do not wish to be rid of me?”

“Rid of you? Cressida, few would be so fortunate. I do not believe I will ever be allowed such an opportunity. I will never, in any of my waking days be rid of you. Every night is dreamless in reserve of you. I am plagued, with the incurable sickness of you. That is my penance, my resolve… I wear this cross gladly.”

“And your impending marriage is that a fiction?”

“No, the marriage is not a fiction”

A faint sound of Anthony and Benedict arriving at the front of the crowd. The other Bridgerton’s not far behind, elbowing and shoving their way through. Coming to stand along with the inevitable swarm of people that had come to gawk could be heard from beyond. The horrified faces of exhaustion clearly painted upon Phillip’s face.

Eloise shied away, she facing turning back towards the blonde. They were causing a spectacle, her mother’s gaze bore into her. As though stripping her down, analysing every moment of her - trying to understand who she is.

“Cressida please.” Eloise begged her guard finally shitting down as the tears spread across her face.

“You will not have me, but you will not leave me.” Cressida’s spoke, her gaze harsh and set upon the brunette. “How it will always be.” She snarled, her gazing flicking up to face the Bridgerton’s. “And how it has always been.”

Benedict shook his head sadly, he knew of course as did Fran of their sister’s chosen persuasion. Not that they had ever let on, merely helping from the side lines. Leaving to allow Eloise and Cressida time together, distracting others to protect them, supporting Eloise through many shapeless conversations and questions about relationships.

“If I don’t do this now you’ll—- you’ll just talk me out of it.” Cressida’s stated shaking her head and turning from the brunette.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Eloise asked.

“Possibly.” The blonde whispered finally pulling her head up to gaze at the other woman, “but i am no longer in business of maybes—“

“Life is an uncertainty, nothing is guaranteed... can’t you see that?” Eloise argued the cotton of her gown gripping uncomfortably at her chest. Unsure now wether the shaking was from her drenched state or nerve of the unknown.

“Everything is certain Lou...” Creased whispered her finger wrapped so tightly that the material of the book warped beneath them. Her eyes glazed with tears - an unnerving peace. “Can’t you just trust me? Trust that I am doing what is best?” She all but begged.

Clawing at the silk of her bodice, pulling it till it sat more comfortably as she stalked ahead. Grasping the blondes face between her hands.

Cressida bit her tongue every cell in her body ached to go to her, screaming at her to step forward, to give in to that look. One she had once retained such comfort in.

Eloise pressed their foreheads together, their noses bumped together. “All I am belongs to, every curve of my pen in ode, each moment of thought, C.” The brunette quoted, her wet fingers latched within the blondes soaked hair, grasping and stroking at the strands desperately.

“It does not matter.” Cressida gritted out, Eloise’s cold lips pressed upon her cheek. Whispering pleas for them to go inside, promises of apologies. “We can never go back now, we’ve said too much. We are aware of one another.”

“I’ll do better.” Eloise whispered, her voice muffled by the blondes cheek. “We can move past this I am certain.”

“Eloise Bridgerton. I love you.” Cressida’s states pulling back her head held high, arms spread wide. As though the swan in the book. Proud for all the ton to see, drenched and exhausted, smiling sadistically, the most beautiful creature Eloise had ever seen. “And there is no coming back from me saying that.”

The blonde turned and stalked towards her carriage, the brunette did not have the energy to follow her. She could hardly breathe, her sickness had weakened her.

“Are you certain?” Eloise shouted casting a glance across her shoulder, rain beating down her face. Watching as Penelope cried for her, Colin’s arm firm in comfort. Kate practically holding Anthony behind her, Benedict turned hastily talking to Francesca.

“What?” Cressida asked her head turned as she stepped up into the carriage.

“Are we certain?” The brunette tried again, taking yet another weak step forward her arms folded in defence rather than threat as she shook. “Are we certain C, you and me?”

The blonde shallowed audibly at the question, the barrier around them flickers as the focus becomes somewhat diluted.

“Yes.” She whispers stepping down from the step, taking in her lovers battered form for the first time in months. She was thinner now, her shoulders lacked the same velocity the blondes fingers has once cut into. Ben idiot had mentioned her health had declined in favour of writing her book. Eloise often grew obsessive of her work.

She walked ahead, back towards her friend. Her hands came up to grasp at Eloise’s harrowing cheeks, the skin there grey and sunken in a tale sign of malnutrition and sleep deprivation.

“Yes.” Cressida repeated her thumbs tracing the warped lines of the brunettes flesh, both ignoring the painful section of their close proximity- not unlike an electric shock as they touched. “Yes dove, we are certain.”

The taller woman sniffed, dragging the brunette’s gaze to hers. “You are the most sure thing about me. You are my unequivocal truth, my inexorable end. I am sorry I ever let you doubt that.” Cressida cried out as Eloise’s hands finally raised to join hers - grasping at her face weakly. Pressing her facing her Cressida’s neck.

“Then stay.”

“I can’t—“ the blonde sobbed, a sticky, sickeningly sweet kiss pressed to the short woman’s forehead head as she pulled away. “Goodbye my love.” Cressida’s whispered as she walked away.

It wasn’t till the sound of her fleeting carriage sounded that Eloise finally broke down. Her knees flat against the ground, dirt seeing into the skirt of her dress. Sinking between her fingers as she clutched the ground, sobs wrecking her body.

It was Daphne who made it to her first, crouched beside her urging her to breathe properly. A hand firmly stroking circles on her back was Penelope.

“Shame on us all for gawking.” Kate called out, urging others to look away. Ordering staff to gather everyone back inside. The crowd still chanting as they walked begrudgingly inside.

“This is a private matter.” Simon bellowed, above the ton, their gossiping soon quietened. “Everyone please return inside, and give Miss Bridgerton the privacy she deserves.” He ordered, his gaze firmly fixed upon Phillip until he too when inside.

“Hey El…” Anthony whispered his body flat against the ground, mud cold and wet beneath his shirt. “Darling we really must move, you’ll freeze out here.” He reasoned, his fingers crossed and prospering up his chin as he tried to coax his sister inside.

“I will entertain our guests.” Francesca stated, as though unsure how else to help in this situation. Her gaze lingering on her sibling’s fallen grace, watching as Benedict guided their mother towards them.

“Oh my Sweet girl.” Violet whispered, bending to touch her daughter’s back comfortingly. That single touch and sound of her welcoming voice, enough to have Eloise moving, turning abruptly to grasp her mother.

The pair hugging tightly as they cried together, “I am so sorry Mama.” Eloise whispered her face pressed into her mother’s waist.

“You have nothing to apologise for Ellie, you are perfect.” Violet promised, pressing kisses to her daughter head. Looking up briefly to see Colin shielding them with his jacket.

Benedict helping lead each of the women back from the boggy grounds. Kate closing the door behind them.

Anthony knelt taller, watching his mother and sister. Swallowing deeply as Benedict reached their side, his shadow casting over them.

“Ben.” Eloise mumbled into her mother’s neck, pulling away to view her brother. Her lip trembled at the sight of his furrowed brow.

“Sister.” Ben greeted, reaching to grasp her and she left her mother’s embrace.

“She—she left me.” Eloise wittered, her hand pressed her her face and the older sibling carried her back towards the house.

Antony and Colin either side of Violet as they all made their way inside.

“I know sister, I know.” Ben whispered, Kate opening the door to them as Ben marched through the crowed and carried Eloise to bed.

The Bridgerton family followed, each choosing to spend the evening in the same room. Violet asleep leaning upon Gregory’s shoulder as he and Hyacinth discussed the crossword with Pen.

Francesca, Colin and Anthony sat with their backs to the sofa as they took turns to read aloud to the room. Daphne and Simon asleep in the armchair.

Eloise slept heavily upon Benedict’s chest, his arm slung across Kate as she began to drift too. His head lulled back as the siblings read…

Cressida would reach wales two weeks later. Eloise would eventually leave her bad.

[athena-gunpla]

MS Mechanical Bust GN-001 "Gundam Exia" Trans-Am ver. Full Set

Another Mechanical Bust! I really enjoyed the first one, and wanted to build another. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the specific gachapon machine anywhere close by. Luckily I found a set of Gundam Exia (Trans-Am version) online, and I was fortunate enough to get all three kits the first time.

Just like the MS Mechanical Bust Gundam Aerial, this kit comes in three potential parts: A clear bust, a solid bust, and a mechanical internal bust with lighting system. Knowing how Aerial went together ahead of time, I knew to mod the lights on the mechanical version ahead of time.

The green LED is super high quality and really makes the GN drive glow, although unfortunately it drowns out the neat writing detail on the trans-green piece.

I chose to put the clear parts (all in a really nice trans-pink) on one of the included extra display busts, which lacks a lot of the detail of the mechanical busts but allows you to build a bust kit no matter which one of the three options you get.

Just like the Aerial, this went together really nicely, although I found I had to glue some pieces to keep them securely in place, unlike with a proper gunpla kit.

The colour quality is really nice, and it sells the red Trans-Am glow pretty well. It also looks great lit up, although unfortunately I wasn't able to get the extra white LED to glow very brightly, making the eyes and other head units a little dull.

Regardless it was a really fun kit to build. I just wish it was a mainline series of model kits like SD Gunpla, rather than relying on gachapon mechanics. If I hadn't gotten lucky in getting one of each, I would've ended up with duplicates or be unable to build a proper bust kit with all the lighting and interior detail I wanted.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 1 - Apocalypse Arisen

Everything was dark.

It was an abyss, as any mortal would dare name it.

Outside, only death, waste and fog...Nothing alive to be spotted, no matter how much you wished to cling on the little ray of hope that humanity seemed to so dumbly hope to believe it existed.

Even he, the Anti-Christ, had to dorn a protective outfit against the  Carbon Dioxide that completely eradicated any gram of Oxygen left by the now ashes of the former trees.

Trees...They were green. And the sky, now grey and cloudy, used to be blue. A beautiful brilliant blue, just like his eyes, he remembered a comparison once, a long time ago - So long that it felt like aeons.

Going from one Outpost to another, much less fit for someone like him, was a true hassle, not to mention the horses had to be automatically put down. He was sure that, should she have been there, she would have been upset seeing them kill the poor, innocent animals so cruelly.

But it had to be done, to avert a more painful demise.

Surely, she would understand.

Outpost 3, ran by this so called Ms. Venable, an ugly, old wretch with severe scoliosis who finds herself superior to all the ones living in this place, as if she wasn't just as fortune, or perhaps, less so thank others might think, to be one of the survivors.

And so, he had to prepare yet another speech for these lowly mortals who cannot comprehend the true miracle of life and death.

The atmosphere was silent, fitting that of a funeral - Whose, he wasn't sure yet, but only time will decide - and only his shoes were heard, with each step her so gracefully took. All eyes were on him, of those curious mortals sitting on the couches, or farther away from him. Only the leader was waiting above them all, the big fireplace burning behind her, almost symbolising the supreme power she held.

Or so she thought and wished other to see.

He approached her, getting uncomfortably close to her, staring at her in the eyes, intimidating her, until she finally let her hair down, submissively, and left the scene only for him.

"My name is Langdon, and I represent The Cooperative. I won't sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilised life on Earth. The three other compounds...In Syracuse, New York ; Backley, West Virginia and San Angelo, Texas, have been overrun and destroyed. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated." he spoke, letting a few seconds of silence, until one of those parasites dared speak. "What happened to the people inside?" he stupidly asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious enough. "Massacred." he answered, the ghost of a smirk on his face, watching their terrorised expressions. "The same fate that will befall almost all of you." he continued, enjoying how frail humanity can be whenever a lasso of hope was thrown towards them, despite being rotten. "Almost all?" the Grey with the most ridiculous hairstyle asked in a monotonous voice. "In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe...The Sanctuary." he explained the reason for his arrival better, only to be rudely interrupted by a snobby wench, repeating the last words he just uttered. "The Sanctuary?" she asked, almost in disbelief. "The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun." the man continued his speech, only to be interrupted once again. "Excuse me, sir, what measures? Why weren't we given them?" the older woman asked, only for him to raise his hand dismissively. "That's classified. All that matters is that The Sanctuary will...Survive. So the people populating it will survive...So humanity will survive." his voice become more cheerful, the undertones of despair-inducing clearly affecting everyone in the room. "Who are the people who are populating it?" one of the men asked, but the answer mimicked the previous one. "Also classified...However! I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call...Cooperating. I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong." he explained with a small, patronising smirk. "What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit! I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing." the same snobby wench dared raise his voice at him, only for one, much softer, to intervene. "Please, miss, refrain from raising your voice to a person of authority." the feminine voice belonged to a woman, seemingly shy, garbed in the ugliest grey clothes, her hair under a rag, just like old women used to, centuries ago. "And who do you think you are, speaking to me like that, slave?! You are nothing more than an ant! A Grey! You weren't even special enough to be a Purple, like me! I have ALL the right to speak to anyone the way I want to!" she barely stopped herself from shooting to her feet, as if electrified, which made the poor girl shrink into her already large clothes, as if trying to completely disappear from there.

There was something that set here apart, however, and he wasn't sure what it was...Could it be her voice? Small, soft and afraid, like that of a little mouse, running away from the lion? Or was it the respect and politeness that she somehow managed to retain, despite all the chaos running amok?

Regardless of the answer, he must find out more about here and determine whether or not his intrigues were misplaced. "You don't have to sit for questioning." the man shook his head, taunting her with his calm answer. "What happens if we choose not to?" the same man asked, once again. "Then you stay here and die." the answer was, as expected, much harsher and pressed, enough to leave an impact on all of them. "I volunteer to go first." the platinum haired man raised his hand, after a brief silence that everyone took to process everything. "And so you shall. The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these." the mysterious man showed a transparent vial, his voice turning into a captivating one, almost as if he was a story-teller to the kindergarden kids. "One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up...I look forward to meeting each and every one of you." were his last words, spoken with a feign smile, as he left the room, letting everyone bicker between who is going to live.

Unlike them, the mousy girl ran away, unnoticed by anyone, holing herself in her room, trying to calm herself down. She knew that she was an unworthy Grey and this man was not going to bring with him some useless lowlife such as her.

The man, Langdon, however, was much too busy interviewing the gay man, who so shamelessly showed his interest in him...How ridiculous of a foolish mortal like him to think he was going to get touched by the Anti-Christ himself? His skin will only ever be touched by an angel, and until he finds her, he will burn everything in his path...

As he already did, and will continue to do.

This previous little bitch, Venable, however, thought that she was in control of this Outpost, truly, that she could bend rules to her own will, only for her frail ego to be covered, as she thought she could act so patronisingly with him.  But his voice could be incredibly sympathetic, when talking about the mother with her two children he encountered, only for him to move to his study and ask for her opinion on who should populate the Sanctuary...And the then proceed in humiliating her.

She truly thought she could best him, but Langdon was smarter than any mortal alive. He knew everyone's weaknesses, and unzipping her dress, tracing the sinuous spine of hers, and watching her weep...Taunting her, mocking her...Going so close to her face, his breath on his...

Only to destroy the last ounce of hope she had by declining her.

Oh, was it satisfying.

Two interviews have already been done, and the gay got punished by the narcissistic woman filled with insecurities, using him as a martyr, until she realised he was enjoying every crack of the whip... She was weak. She didn't have a clue how to destroy people.

But he did.

Softly touching the man, circling him, denying everything the leather man did...

"I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on Earth...And you almost are! It's not because you're not physically attractive. It's your neediness. Your desperation to be seen and loved. The hole you need filled isn't in your face or your ass, it's in your heart. You're pathetic. I can see why your grandmother is disgusted by you." his voice was low, mocking, knowing each word exactly which heartstring to sever. "You don't know anything about my nana." the man tried to refute the only thing he knew he was true. "Why else would she report you? Make them do this to you. I'm sure she hoped they would put you out of your misery...And hers." Langdon let out an amused breathe, continuing his merciless pursue of destroying the man in shackles.. "That's bullshit." Rage. Disbelief. Shock. Confusion. He was very much broken before even coming here...And now, he's shattered. "She's the reason you're staring at a death sentence. She would do anything to increase her slim odds of getting out of here. You know she hates your guts." he continued circling him, staring him right into his eyes that held nothing but self-doubt. "You're a liar." was his last, weak attempt as saving his last bit of pride. "Am I? Perhaps you should go and talk to her about it yourself, then." Langdon smirked, letting the man free as he left the room.

The gay's grandmother reported her own grandson to give her an extra chance of survival...How pitiful and desperate humans are. And now, from rage, the silly boy killed his own grandmother with a pair of scissors. If the night wasn't eventful enough, two people has intercourse, and now had to be punished, same as the murderous one. And now, it was up to him pick up the broken pieces and put them back together. They dream of salvation, but commit nothing but sin. Truly, God will not help them, so why not extend their hands towards a more preferable deity, such as Satan?

Ave Satanas. Ave Satanas.

But no, they are afraid. Much too afraid. The unknown scares them almost as much as their own ugly souls do.

Pathetic, this humanity is.

He was done with nonesense, for now. Interviewing this pathetic bunch who would kill each other just for a few more seconds of aimless breathing and blinking. Just a few more heartbeats. Langdon, now, wanted something more. He wanted purity, and he wanted to taint it. To steal it. To devour it. He needed it.

That Grey mousy girl with the pathetically weak voice. That's what he needed. Urgently.

And so, she arrived in the room, with a soft knock on the door, patiently awaiting to be allowed inside, and then, slowly closing it behind her, making sure no sound comes out, most likely not wanting to bother anyone.

"Sit down." he ordered, in a commanding voice, not needing to intimidate her any further. "Thank you, sir." she didn't lift her gaze up, despite doing as she was told. "Why are you hiding your hair under that ugly rag?" he asked, intertwining his fingers together and leaning forwards on his desk. "Ms. Venable said my hair colour is a disgusting, genetical abnormality, so she gave me the choice. Either shave it, or hide it." she answered, her hands clasped together tightly between her knees, her shoulders slouched, trying to appear as little and insignificant as possible. "I see. I did notice Ms. Venable has a... Tendency to add ridiculous rules to the set already given by the cooperative, so enlist a certain sense of power that she never had when things were normal." he spoke, waiting for her to speak, only to hear nothing. "You are not agreeing, nor disagreeing. I wonder whether you think that is a smart choice or not. You are an obedient one, you chose to sit on my interview, yet you barely speak. This action may influence your chances of survival, are you aware of that?" he asked, his voice lower, whispered almost, as he desperately wanted to get a look at her eyes. "I-I know...But...I don't know what to say. I...Don't deserve the chance given by the Sanctuary. Coco was right...I'm just a Grey. An Ant. I'm not talented, nor a genius or anyone important or needed. Perhaps life would be a better place, should Purples continue to populate it." she stuttered her words, as her body became even stiffer, and her teeth were digging into her bottom lip to prevent it from quivering. "I never said it would influence in good or bad, however, you assume that I choose people based on their rank given here, and I will have to disagree. However, I cannot disclose the methods behind choosing the right candidates. What I can do, however, is to tell you that, from all the others who so pathetically tried to ruin each other's chances, you seem the only one to possess a certain light in your heart. A purity and innocence that I cannot understand...So tell me...Do you truly think Coco deserves to be picked for the Sanctuary?" he pressed on, once again, enjoying how uncomfortable she was. "I-I think everyone deserves a chance for a better future. It is not my place to give my opinion, since I'm not certified, nor qualified for this." the girl began trembling softly, like a leaf blown away by the wind, and it was entertaining the blond man more than he wished to admit - She was a challenge, and he was ready to crack her. "You play it safe. You don't want to bother anyone. You don't want to upset anyone. You're almost like a ghost. Invisible. Unnoticeable. Drifting away, leaving no impression to anyone...And yet, you are afraid. You are scared that nobody will remember you. That nobody likes you, and will never like you. You live in fear and anxiety, which is why you choose to be passive and accept those ridiculous rules given to you by that idiot." he raised up, slowly prowling towards her, like a cheetah carefully approaching its prey, then sat on the desk, right in front of her, to visualise her better.

"I'm...Not sure how to answer." she mumbled, gluing her back to the corner of the seat, trying to put space between the two. "Begin by taking off that rag." he spoke more casually this time, as if he was trying to gain her trust, just like you would approach a scared baby fawn looking for its mother. "O-Okay...If that is what you wish..." she spoke softly, as her fingers trembled, removing the rag and letting a gorgeous cascade of fire hair flow in waves past her shoulders and covering her flustered and frightened visage. "So Venable is afraid or red haired people, how very interesting. Now, look me in the eyes." he took a strand of her hair, twirling it around with his finger, his mind wandering away, for just a split second, remembering those nice, old times, when he would sit under the shade of a Wisteria tree and do the same thing with her. "I-I-I'm afraid I cannot do that. I'm sorry to disappoint you." she hung her head even lower, making the man frown and tilt his head to the side. "And why is that?" his voice became just a tint sharper, and yet, it wasn't unnoticeable "That's... Because I'm very shy... A-And I was never able to look anyone in the eyes. People always intimidated me." her voice was much more mellow, and shaking...She had tears forming in her eyes, without a doubt. "Look at me. I want to see your eyes." Langdon grasped her chin, brusquely tilting it upwards, forcing her to hold eye contact with him.

Her eyes, sparkling with tears, were green, just like the pine trees from the forest he used to go so often to. They were the same innocent eyes that held only kindness and love whenever they laid upon him. They were now, however, frightened, confused, filled with despair, just like he used to be, long ago. How the tables turn, Langdon thought, as his mouth was slightly agape from the shock of seeing so many emotions pooling from the girl's eyes.

"Tell me your name." he wanted to be stern, he truly did, but the thought that this woman might be her was killing him. "Katrina..." a soft whisper escaped her luscious pink lips that resembled the petals of the most delicate rose from her childhood flower garden that she loved so much. "So it is you... It really is you... Katrina... My Katrina... My Kat." he rapidly took away his hand from her face, as if electrocuted, mumbling to himself, not believing that finally, after so long, after so many searches...He found her again. His beloved angel. "S-Sorry, but... H-Have we met before...? You act as if you know me... I-I hope I didn't offend you..." she muttered, forcing herself to look at him with those lamb eyes of hers...That shattered his resolve completely. "You...You don't remember me? I'm Michael...Mickey, you used to call me. We were best friends when we were young...And then you left for a witch school, and you gave me this ring, telling me that you will find me again...But you couldn't, so I saved you from Hell. Twice, in fact. Can you...Truly not remember me...?" his voice, unlike before, was much more frail, with a fragility that it could almost break. "I...I don't think you have the right person...I'm so sorry. I'm...I'm not special. I didn't have any friends when I was little, and I went to a boring school in the neighbourhood. My father left us, and my mum was working hard, but was always mean to me. I don't even know how I got here, to be fair...And...I'm not Matilda...Or Hermione...A-Although I wish magic was real...But even so, I'm such a good for nothing Grey...Even if magic was real...I would most likely not have powers...But...Mr. Michael...I truly hope that you will find the one you are looking for." she so boldly took his hand in both of hers, caressing it soothingly, which, unknown to her, was a habit of hers from long ago, which made Michael, for the first time, cling on hope, just like any mere mortal. "And what if I prove to you that magic is real?" he asked, with a tint of playfulness, his usual taunting smile now turning much softer. "You can...?" she whispered ever so softly, her eyes opening wider with curiosity, her head held high, to search for the truth in the eyes that resembled to much the sky from those sunny days. "Put your hands together... Yes, just like this... And look. From your own hands, a little flower blooms... And it is beautiful, just like you." he spoke, holding his own hands under hers, looking at the black flower that grew from her hands, slowly blooming, then shifted his gaze to hers, searching for a reaction, with uncharacteristic excitement.

"H-How... ?! This... This is so beautiful...! How did you do that...? Are you... A Warlock? A sorcerer? A philosopher? Are you playing with illusions? Tricking my minds? Or... Is this truly... Magic...?" Katrina could barely speak as she witnessed the wonder in front of her - She was breathless. "You taught me this. When we first met, I was a little child, and I was crying in the forest. You found me, and gave me a flower. It was blue, just like my eyes, and you put it in my hair. I smiled, and you said I looked beautiful. Unfortunately, my magic cannot replicate entirely the purity of yours, however, it can do similar things, to some extent." he explained, taking the flower and carefully putting it in her hair, leaving her awestruck. "You truly believe that I am that person, don't you? There are billions of people out there that look just like me, and yet, you believe in me. Why?" she asked, and with a refined gentleness, he caressed her face, wiping away the tears that escaped her eyes. "I can sense people. Their hearts, their soul, their intentions, their minds, their fears, their weaknesses...Everything. And you...You are just like the one I used to know. Same hair, same eyes, same voice, same behaviour, same purity, same kindness, same light and same tendency to nurture others. I have met tons of people in my life, and you are the only one like that. It's a truly unique gift that, unfortunately, society seems to prey upon and wish to destroy. You have noticed that as well, haven't you? Why else a perfect human being such as yourself would be a Grey, when she should obviously be a ruling Queen over these lowly peasants? If you wished to, you could destroy them in the blink of an eye. You must just remember." he leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, not daring to keep his eyes from her for even one second, afraid that she might disappear just like a smoke figure slipping from his fingers. "...Michael...?" she asked, very timidly, yet with hope and intrigue, for the first time since they started speaking. "What is it, my darling?" the man replied, brushing his hair against a strand of her hair. "Could you... Please... Help me remember...? Remember what happened... Remember who I am... Remember... You?" her request was so filled with innocence and wish to understand, to break the riddle of her life and mind, that he fell to his knees, grasping her hands and kissing them gingerly. "Anything you wish for, I will grant you. Just say the words, and it shall be done." he smiled widely, almost as if intoxicated by her presence alone. "I cannot let my guard down around these people, so I cannot show anyone any explicit liking. However, since you are a Grey, I can use it to my advantage and have you around me, under the pretext of being my personal maid. Tonight, you will be spending the night with me." he got up, helping her raise and pulling her to his chest, looking down at her small form, irked that she was still so stiff and uncomfortable to his presence...To his touch...To him. "But... Ms. Venable forbid a man and a woman - " her voice was shaky, looking away from him, her porcelain skin growing a tint rosier, and for the first time in so many years, his heart began beating once again, and he felt warm, but not from anger...But from adoration. "Venable isn't the rule here. I am. And if anyone dares cross you, they will have to pass me first, which I can assure you, won't happen." his tone was dark and firm, like that of a king - No, more of a Dark Lord - But the confidence he was radiating managed to calm her senses, as she nodded in agreement. "Now, shall we retire for the night? I was thinking of a story, if you'd wish to hear?" like the devil whispering into her ears, she could only fall for his charm and that seducing, velvety voice of his, and followed him to his room, as with a hand on her back, he guided her in the grand bedroom.

Taking off his blazer and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, he comfortably sit in bed, extending his arm for her to join him, her eyes watching her with the eyes of a predator, as she, with the shyness of a bunny, stood there, next to the door, looking down, with her hands clasped together to her chest.

"Do you wish to sleep standing? I doubt it would be comfortable. Why not join me? Take off your dress, I will give you one of mine, so you can sleep properly." he took out one of his black shirts, giving it to her, then tilting his head towards the bathroom for her to change, knowing very well how timid she is.

Some would have the phrase "Wolf in sheep's clothing" on their lips, seeing Michael so vulnerable around her, and yet, seeing her in only his shirt, draping down to her knees, "Sheep in wolf's clothing" would be much fitting, he thought, and yet, he realised he couldn't breath, and the urge to grab her and pull her close to his chest - So close that she would be in his heart, in his soul - No matter how unachievable that would be, he knew he never wanted her to leave his arms.

He could feel how uncomfortable she was in his arms, so close to him, a complete stranger, at least to her amnesiac self, and he did the one thing that she used to do to him whenever she tried to comfort him and calm him down - Play with her hair. Long, beautiful, smooth, shiny and full of life, just like the fire that used to play in her eyes whenever she was excited about something.

"Do you want me to tell you 'The Story of the Beautiful Angel and The Ugly Demon' ?" he asked in a gentle voice, hoping it would take her mind away from her worries. "Okay...I'm curious. I've never heard of it before." the girl smiled, daring to drape her arm over his chest, feeling a weird sense of security and... Home.

There was once a little angel, dancing in the glade of the forest of Eden, on one cloudless day of Spring, where the warmth of the Golden Sun's fan of rays caressed the Earth and all its living beings. Her voice was so beautiful as she sang that numerous critters gathered around her and the birds would chirp with her.  As she was lying down, under a Wisteria tree, the purple flower petals dancing with the wind, a little boy, ugly and crying, lost his path and ended up in front of the girl. He was so ugly, and his sobs were so creepy, that he made all animals run away from there. The girl, however, did not.

Instead, she smiled at him, a gentle smile, and extended her hands towards him, guiding him to sit next to her.  She asked him his name, yet he was much too frightened to answer. So she kneeled in front of the boy, brought his hands together, and putting hers under his, she made a little flower bloom. It was the colour of his eyes, just like the colour of the azure sky.

He looked in wander and shock at what just happened, not believing his eyes, thinking her some kind of Goddess...Until she picked the flower and put it in his hair, golden, each separate hair looking as if it was the finest thread of gold that was used to embroider Emperors and Empresses' royal clothing - It was shining brighter than the Sun itself.

"You are beautiful when you smile. Happiness suits you." she said, and yet, her dazzling smile mesmerised by the ethereal being in front of him, as if he was cheated by some spell.

And a spell it was indeed, and the girl compared herself to some witches she saw in humans' television, and since then, she tried to recreate what she was seeing, and bit by bit, she was becoming better and better, while the demon, who could do magic too, was becoming worse and worse. 

He was born evil, and she was born good. The world was either white or black, and there was no grey...At least for him, back then.

But there was one thing the angel said that will stuck to him forever, when he finally told her the reason for his distress.

He was evil, only capable of malevolent thoughts, of destroying, purging, erasing life from existence, while she was the exact opposite - A Saint, filled with kindness and benevolent actions, bringing life and healing wounds.

How could she possibly want to stay around him, a creature of the dark, when she's always engulfed in light?

But she was quick to erase his worries, as she cupped his face, drying the tears that sparkled like zircons, and said, with a voice gentle, and warm, so sweet, as if she was luring a fawn...

"There is light and dark in every human being, without exception. Maybe you feel like one side overpowers the other, but with the right influence, I assure you, you are capable of outstanding things. You are strong, Little Demon, and I promise you, when I look into your eyes, I can see the humanity shining in you, striving to shine and be better. I have faith in you, so please, believe in yourself as well."

And those words will forever be imprinted into his heart, sown with the same golden thread that made out the Sun Rays.

When Michael looked down, he notices the woman he held to his chest was much more relaxed. In fact, she was sleeping peacefully, with no sign of restlessness. She seemed...Peaceful.  It seemed his voice managed to put her to sleep, and he was happy with that.

She truly was the star shining brightest in the sky.

Next Chapter >

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, Ms. Raven! I, unfortunately, (or fortunately haha) have also been a victim of the J-word brain rot 😃 im normal I swear I don't bully people if they do simp for him, because that would be rather hypocritical of me. even though if I do have a breakdown and judge myself for simping while hoping that God forgives me. nobody told me how to handle this. i can't accept myself.

OH AND THE NEW CLUB WEAR CARD- Um. please help me. there's no stopping it. it's only a matter of time before it takes my entire brain. I read your nine paged love letter and the entire Jade Leech thirst tag, so I think you can tell- Anyways, thank you for fueling my obsession. I love your blogs and analyses! I also adore your writing style, I find it really appeals to me! You're awesome!

Hope you have a wonderful day, Ms. Raven! -Anon

[Referencing this tag!]

Ah, another casualty (the Clubwear spooked so many of us, lol) 😔 You have my condolences. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do to alleviate the symptoms of terminal J word brain rot… I’m not here to fix you, I’m here to make you worse/j

cbjsveiwgshFqjwn EW, YOU READ THAT OLD THING 💀 I MEAN I’M GLAD YOU RELATE TO MY FEELINGS BUT. Aaaaaaaah, I get so embarrassed thinking about what I wrote in that letter (I won’t even bother linking it here, that’s how embarrassing it is 💦)

Anyway!! I’m happy to hear that you like my stuff and find solace in my… eel-related escapades… Here’s to having many more in the future! 🍹

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Thirty) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker @misatmosfear

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: steamy againnnnnn (sorry) (just some good old-fashioned making out).

[[A/N: Just found this gif.... the lord's work. Oh my god. Y'all this might be about kissing again :)))), kinda sorta. Thanks for reading !!! ]]

The day of your proposal was a quite busy one, you'll admit. Not that you had a lot to do, but getting a portrait painted was no light work, you were to sit still for hours -the painter posed you rather eloquently, but still you were drawn to such aches and pains.

That is to say, you hadn't been properly alone with Mr. Grimes since the proposal. Your duties were far unfulfilled then, and then, the planning had started, and although you saw him frequently, it wasn't alone.

And Headmistress was nearly on your last nerve-

So, that brought you to your current predicament -a day of planning and Mr. Grimes had noticed such tensions and took you to walk through the hallways. You'd taken to asking about the rooms, what was in them, what they were for, if people were in there often-

"Mr. Grimes," you questioned, clearing your throat and pointing to the door on the left, "-what of that one?"

If he knew of your intentions, he didn't say anything.

"An old office," he hummed, "-only people who see it are those who clean it in the morning."

"Do they clean it any other time?"

"Because of lack of use, no," he answered you, looking at you a little puzzled -apparently he didn't know of such intentions after all.

"Well," you spoke with a little bit of a false chipper -only noticeable to those who didn't know you, "-I'd love to see it."

"Why?" he laughed, confused, "-it's just an old office, darlin'. Nothin' to see."

"I'd just love a personal tour," you teetered, still smiling but something in your eyes was far different than politeness -you wished to kiss him after all.

"Why?" he repeated, turning to completely face you.

"Must you always ask why?" you remarked, pulling him into your side and approaching the door with uttermost haste.

The doorknob was the kind that creaked when you opened it, truly showing the amount it was used. If you didn't believe him, you surely would have now.

It was floor-to-ceiling bookcases on every wall, and unlike Mr. Grimes's office, it had no windows, only books. If you were there to truly look at the room, you would've enjoyed brushing your fingers over the books, guessing what wood the desk was, and perching upon the couch.

But you weren't there for such things.

"May I ask why now?" He questioned once again, the door swinging shut behind him -you made sure of it, "-Do you find it worth such a tour, Ms. Greene?"

"It is-" you hummed, fingers brushed up on the couch -you were about a step away from him now, "-rather beautiful, I do wonder why you don't use it."

"The window allows me to see the children," he answered quickly, before pushing to more urgent matters, "-Now, may I ask what the purpose of stopping in here was? I have plenty of beautiful rooms for you to see, Ms-"

You merely turned to him, grabbed his face with your hands, and kissed him. Lips pushed together without a smidgen of hesitation, he simply followed your lead and the frustration of it all before melted on your shoulders. Until, it didn't.

He pulled back, grinning, laughing really, "You are quite cute, Ms. Greene."

It was spoken between the press of your lips, so it was rather annunciated by each word -you kissed him through such laughter, not without your own smile. ("You. Are. Quite. Cute. Ms. Green.")

You pulled back upon his words, watching him for a moment -his wide grin, he was rather cocky today, "Is it too much for a lady to just want a kiss?"

"No," he spoke, bringing a finger under your chin, "-Not at all, sweetheart, I just find it delightful you wish to kiss me so often."

"Often?" You hummed, "-I haven't kissed you in days, and you proposed to me! How is that fair?"

"It isn't," he hummed pressing one barely there to your lips, "-but such kissin' is new to me."

"How?" You questioned, genuinely, the man was so handsome, you had to avoid such urges nearly every second -especially when he remained so sweet to you.

"With, With Lori," he echoed, backing away from your lips for a moment, you nearly pulled him back-, "-we kissed for show, really. Especially later in the marriage."

"Well, you were unhappy, were you not?"

"Not originally," he posed, "-I supposed she just never really... liked it."

"Quite a loss," you remarked, without any extra thought -on instinct, if you will.

Mr. Grimes laughed, loud and boisterous, and you flushed a deep crimson at your lack of grace, "I am curious, however. What do you like about it, Ms. Greene?"

You sighed, flushing even further crimson at the implications of such a question, "Must you truly ask?"

"I must," he hummed, fingers wrapped around one of your wrists, and you felt something in your stomach twist. It was so embarrassing-

"I..." you huffed, "-It relaxes me. I... When I'm frustrated, it's so easy to forget about when I'm..."

"Kissin' me?"

You placed your hands over your eyes, the tips of your ears were certainly flushed now, and you couldn't bear to look at him. God, you certainly hated him at the moment.

He pulled your hands away from your face, a gentle pull of his hands -skin on a glove. Always so calm, so collected, "Is that all?"

Your hands now wrapped in his, you squeezed your eyes shut -still unable to look at him, "I like... I like feeling close to you. And- And I love you and... kissing helps me tell you that. Such as holding your arm, or your hand, or smiling at you, it's just... it's more special."

"Darlin'," he hummed, light and airy -you could tell he was smiling, "-look at me, will you?"

You peeked your eyes open, and were met with his own -he was quite close to whisper to you, a breath away really. Something in your face grew darker, especially with the soft gentle sort of way he was looking at you. You wished to hide again without a doubt.

"I am to be your husband," he hummed, fingers gently cradling your chin, "-it's important for me to know such things. I do wish to keep you happy after all."

You laughed.

"So, I imagine this, today, is from what?" He questioned, curiously, "The proposal? The planning?"

"Yes," you deflated, "-Headmistress is a force to be reckoned with, and I am simply exhausted from her. You must understand how just your presence helps but your..."

You fell rather quiet, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear -shyly.

"I understand, darlin'," he whispered, looming in closer to your face, "-you need a kiss, kisses, to feel better."

"Yes," you confirmed, quietly.

"What kind of husband would I be, if I don't make you feel better?"

"What kind, indeed," you hummed -offhanded, distracted.

He laughed at that, a breath away from your mouth, but you let him guide you this time. You would be patient, and gentle, like a lady was supposed to be. Perhaps, it would be more appealing to do so.

And then his lips pressed to yours and such thoughts flew out the window.

You didn't hesitate to coax out his tongue, pushing on his jaw -just as you did before. You learned how to do such a thing, you knew what his reactions were like-

He pushed you forward just a little in response, hands dipped to your shoulders, and your back pressed against the desk -a sort of cool sensation through your dress, you didn't truly mind.

Your hands settled on his shirt, his vest, pulling it forward as close as you could physically be. Closer, actually, you wished him closer.

His tongue was the first to go forward, swirling around your mouth with a slow, sort of tepid pace. He was always so careful with you, it was rather sweet. You, however, were the first to meet your tongue with his -the touch made something shoot to your toes-

He pulled back a moment, breathless and not too far, "This helpin'?"

You hummed against his lips, hands reaching out and suddenly, you decided to coat through his hair -fingers brushing through his scalp. He let out a little noise at such contact and part of you craved to hear it more, but you couldn't now.

You couldn't make him look a mess, despite how badly you wished to.

He pushed forward even further and you hissed -the desk pushed into your back, you imagined leaving a mark.

Mr. Grimes immediately pulled back, eyes darting all over your face, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," you swallowed, hands now tenderly placed on his chest -you could feel his heart pounding, "-just the desk."

"Oh," he breathed out, relieved, "-here."

And then, as if it was as easy as breathing, he picked you up and sat you on the desk -hands on your waist for a mere second.

Your head swirled.

"You alright?" He questioned, turning to meet your eyes.

"You-" you swallowed, face a breath away from his, "-You picked me up as though I was as light as a feather."

"You are," he reasoned, leaning forward as he placed his hands through your arms and onto the desk, "-Is that what you're stuck on?"

"Well, I..." you started again, eyes darting to his lips -he was so close, "-I just believe that I very much liked it."

"Oh," he laughed, pressing a few gentle kisses to your lips -laughter breaking through the seal, "-well, that's certainly good to know."

"Certainly," you relented, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

The next few days were quite busy, planning and courting and watching your sisters and listening to Headmistress, but every once in a while, he'd pull you into that old room. Kiss you once, maybe twice, and pull you back out -it made your mind a pleasant buzz instead of a stressed one.

He kissed you nearly once everyday, and you were getting quite used to it; once you spoke how important it was to you, he nearly didn't stop.

In quiet moments of courting, he kissed you. In the privacy of his garden, he kissed you. In between planning with Headmistress, he kissed you -possibly a dozen times then. Until your heart was a flutter and the worries melted away, you weren't counting. You'd never be counting, ever, you decided.

It led to one of the most fruitful weeks of your life -you happily navigating everything your life pushed at you with a smile and even getting your foot in the door with planning. Including conversing with a dress designer about one of her ideas, which you were onto a meeting with her now -sat neatly in a room within the estate with Headmistress by your side, chattering away.

Well, just before it, actually.

You weren't sure how he'd done it exactly, but Mr. Grimes had snuck you into the old room mere minutes before the woman was to be meeting you -an excuse of a walk very much settled the Headmistress.

(You weren't sure she cared what the two of you were doing, as long as you stayed engaged to him.)

"Mr. Grimes-" you hissed, as he pulled you into the room -hand intertwined with yours.

The shut of the door was the next sound you heard, as Mr. Grimes turned to you with a rather twinkly sort of smile -clear on what exactly he had taken you here for. Not that you needed any clarification.

"Mr. Grimes," you started, standing starkly where you were, "-we cannot do this now, I have a pressing matter in minutes-"

"We lost track of time on a tour," he hummed out, stepping closer to you -you naturally, on instinct, leaned into him just as well.

You smiled, despite yourself -hands finding themselves within the back of his hair, combing through, "You're rather needy now, you know that?"

"Needy," he laughed, "-I do it for you, darlin'."

"Oh, no, no, no," you echoed with a laugh, he still pressing slow gentle kisses to your mouth, "-this is a shared problem now, Mr. Grimes."

"Rick," he corrected, landing a more powerful kiss on your lips -your fingers twisted into his hair.

"Rick," you repeated, just a breath away from his face, eyes dipping low to his lips-

"Wait, no," you stepped back, hands placed neatly on his chest, "-you must admit it."

"Admit what?" He breathed, ranging closer again.

"Admit you enjoy it just as much as I do," you held firm, despite his hands placed rather eloquently on your waist -it made your head swirl.

"I do," he spoke, rather frankly, "-I very much enjoy it."

You were startled and rather silent, before weighing in -teasing, "Well, what do you like about it?"

"What do I-" He kissed you again, all gentle force -slow and timid, "-like about it?"

"Yes," you exhaled, only slightly breathless, "-I'd like to know."

He laughed again, blue eyes shining a certain type of way, "Would you?"

"Very much so," you clarified, twirling one of his curls between your fingers.

"Hmm," he hummed, fingers cradling your face with a bubbling sort of affection, "-Does that it pleases you count?"

"If it's why you like it," you confirmed -eyes dipping to his lips, it was your weakness you swore.

"I like it for plenty of reasons," he smiled, eyes dipping to your own lips, "-the feelin', I feel sometimes that your lips bring me back to Earth. Like I was lost, but upon findin' yours I'm found."

"You mean that?"

"I belong with you," he breathed out, hands rubbing along your cheeks, "-I feel such a thing after every breath, but when I kiss you-"

You fidgetted, eyes flickering along his face.

"-I feel like everything is in place. Like I've found where I am to be."

"Rick-" you sighed, something building up your throat -mist in your eyes.

Mr. Grimes immediately began wiping at your eyes with a sense of easy patience, as if he would wait on anything for you, "My darlin'."

"My Mr. Grimes," you exhaled, biting back tears -you were so happy, "-you're going to kill me with all this one day, you know?"

"Hope not," he whispered, inches from your face, "-I shall tell you every day, so your heart remembers."

"With the kisses?" You questioned -doe-eyed, eyes fluttering over his face.

"With the kisses," he laughed, pulling you in for just one more. Or maybe two. Or maybe three-

You supposed Headmistress could wait.

[dalekofchaos]

How is Blackwell even a school?

Blackwell is insanely weird.

It has dorms but also lockers.

A barely functioning staff. We have two teachers, a principal, a custodian and a head of security. There is Mrs Hoida, but we never see her in LIS or BTS. Mr Keaton exists in BTS, but we never hear about him in LIS. There’s a nurse, but we never see her. There’s a coach for the Otters and Bigfoots, but neither Max nor Chloe are athletic, so we never see them. According to Chloe’s report card. There is an Art teacher, Phy Ed teacher, Practical Math and Life Skills Teacher, Social Sciences teacher and Personal Health Teacher. But we never see any of them.

Only two whole classrooms in the whole game.

It’s apparently the only school the town has and also is a super expensive exclusive private school.

It’s a high school that recruits world renowned artists and scientists to teach basic high school level classes.

It’s graduates supposedly go on to become famous successful people yet the school itself resides in a tiny rundown coastal Oregon town.

It costs a fortune to attend and yet it looks like it hasn’t been seriously repaired or renovated since the 1970’s.

Hell it doesn’t even have security cameras on campus.

According to google

"According to a student survey from the National Center for Education Statistics, 86 percent of middle school and high school students have security cameras installed in their schools."

Despite David being an asshole, it's standard procedure to have cameras up in the first place. David is wrong to put cameras in his home to spy on Chloe, but not wrong to have cameras in the school. If there were cameras already placed in Blackwell.

Frank Bowers would never be able to sell on school grounds

Frank never would've been close to Rachel

Nathan never would've gotten away with bringing so many illegal drugs to the Vortex Club

Kate never would've been dosed

Speaking of David. Why is he just a security officer? Why isn't he a cop? Wouldn't it make sense for David to work two jobs since the Prices are in debt? As a cop and as a security officer? The most unrealistic thing about LIS. David was too unstable to be a Arcadia Bay cop. The police have no standards and I'm shocked that David wasn't an instant recruit considering how the police in America wants people with low IQs and doesn’t care for obvious red flags.

Also, School Resource Officers exist.

Then there is the fact that Max…BARELY uses the school of her dreams. We get one or two classes at best. Going to Ms Grant’s class does not count cause Max only went there to help Warren.

Chloe not using Blackwell makes sense. She hates the damn place and would rather learn about Rachel’s anatomy break the rules and chill in the junkyard.

But with Max, shouldn’t she actually be attending classes? I mean if I were attending a big private school at Blackwell, but didn’t attend classes. I think my ass would’ve been suspended within weeks and my tuition set on fire.

What kind of school, a HIGH school lets their students freely roam the halls, leave school grounds or chill in the dorms instead of doing class work?

For that matter. Why the fuck is Blackwell Academy a fucking High School? Why not a college? Art Colleges exists. I'd rather Blackwell be a college and for everyone to be of age, it'd explain a lot of stuff such as the drugs, parties, guns, and just a lot of stuff. Not to mention going through college you are still figuring out stuff, what you want to do with your life, and still figuring out who you are. Would've imo a lot better and explained why half the shit that was happening was.

I get this is an episodic game and there are more pressing concerns, but honestly Blackwell should’ve been like say Bully. We do the day’s worth of classes and then progress to the story. Hell, you could even implement a sort of friendship system. Maybe you pick who you sit next to and that raises Max’s friendship with them. Anything would’ve been better than Max skipping school altogether and just focusing on Chloe. Like we have an entire school, we should not have our focus be on Chloe. There could’ve been ways to work classes into the main story, but no. Blackwell is just background noise and it shows.

But the lack of a full faculty staff or an actual care that anyone actually attends class? What kind of fucking school is this?