#perhaps don’t flame me chat

[dipperscavern]

idk if you would write but i would love to see in ur style a tyrell!reader x robb. imagine being the winter rose? omg living the biggest dream by being a beauty of the seven realms, having tales of ur beauty passed on, and then being betrothed to robb as a mean of house tyrell to guarantee their safety, but still, theres no northern or southern who can resist the tyrell beauty and robb is one of them

nana.. this ask did things to me. i love this idea smsmsm & thank u for sending it in !!

tyrell beauty was never anything that could be denied — by friend or by foe.

you & your twin sister, margaery, were the greatest testimonies to that. while margaery was no doubt beautiful, tales of your beauty had spread throughout the seven kingdoms. singers, poets, servants & kings alike had all heard and contributed to the spread of the tale of the tyrell rose — not only beautiful in physical aspects, but a gorgeous personality to match.

you & margaerys older brother, loras, was also rumored for his looks. safe to say, you three were widely known.. the beauties of house tyrell.

even the north, cold and harsh as it was, was not exempt from hearing the tales of you & your siblings beauty. jokes and speculations had long passed around winterfell, only increasing tenfold when hearing about house tyrell’s rumored interest in forming an allegiance with the north. when bran, rickon, & arya stepped into the castle, covered in dirt & almost soaking wet from that days ministrations, jory only sighed seeing them, ushering them to baths with a mutter of-

“the beauties of winterfell…”

robb only laughed at the teases he heard about you & your siblings, but sometimes found his thoughts wandering to you. his mind often drifting to think about the tyrell rose, absurd childlike questions, that he should’ve pushed away as quickly as they entered his mind. do the tales do your beauty justice? what are you like in person? are you warm? would you like him? what would you think of the north?

he focused on training, doing as he was told & preparing to become lord of winterfell one day, although he couldn’t stop the fleeting thoughts about you that arose every once in a while. a child’s dream, he thought.

so you can imagine his surprise when his father & mother sat him down, telling him of the alliance house tyrell wanted to make with house stark..

through marriage.

robb felt like he was dreaming. the beauty of the seven kingdoms, betrothed to him? he could barely keep the smile off his face, wanting to not only improve stature to his house, but do his duty as a husband. excitement pooled in his gut, as theon clasped his hands on robb’s shoulders at dinner, congratulating him. theon’s hands waved in the air, saying something about-

“the beauty and the beast..”

any other night he would’ve gotten a shove to the ground, but robb only threw him a playful smile. even theon’s relentless teasing couldn’t ruin this for him. if he was to be lord of winterfell one day, he’d need a strong woman by his side — he dreamed of a relationship like his mother and fathers, and he prayed in the godswood to the old gods that night, that they would guide your union as man and wife.

in the days leading up to your arrival at winterfell, countless preparations were made. the tyrell host was large, and all of the starks had done their parts to prepare to receive it. you were to stay in winterfell for a week before the wedding, and your family would leave shortly after. you had handmaidens and a few select soldiers to stay with you at winterfell, and you could visit high garden anytime you wanted in the near future. you asked your grandmother if she would visit you in winterfell again after the wedding, but she only put a hand over your own & said it would take the Father himself to drag her back to that “frozen wasteland”.

the day you arrive, robb thinks he’s might jump out of his skin, he’s so nervous. still, he puts on a brave face for his & his families sake, wanting to be everything you need and more.

you, margaery, and the queen of thornes are riding in the wheelhouse, while ser loras is in front of it, mounted on a white mare. his armor glints in the sunlight, doing wonders to illuminate his face. he’s handsome, robb can admit, and that only makes his curiosity increase about you & your sister. & once you both step out of the wheelhouse, robb feels his heart skip as many beats as it can without killing him.

a few of your cousins step out first, giggly as they curtsy to the starks and stand respectively to the side. margaery is next, gorgeous auburn hair & a button nose, a flattering dress with the tyrell colors proudly on display, and a sweet smile to accompany it all. she curtsy’s as well, standing more in front of the wheelhouse, as loras dismounts and moves to stand next to her.

when you step out of the wheelhouse, robb’s breath hitches. his body forgets every single instinct he’s ever had, & he has to remind himself to breathe, as to not kill himself. you’re beautiful. stunning. a sight for sore eyes. he doesn’t think there’s any word in the common tongue that can be used to describe your beauty without downplaying it. it seems like nobody can tear their eyes off of you, your aura doing wonders to brighten the damp atmosphere.

you curtsy to them all, along with a smile he wishes would never leave your face. robb can’t tear his eyes from you, even when you move to offer your hand to the queen of thornes as she steps out. you meet robb’s gaze in the moment everyones attention is not on you. the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk as he winks at you. you only tilt your head, brows lightly furrowing as you smile at him. your gaze falls to the floor as blush rises to your cheeks, retracting your hand from your grandmothers and smoothing out your gown.

pleasantries are exchanged, you and robb stealing glances to each other every so often. lady olenna & a few of your cousins go with ned stark & lady catelyn, moving to discuss the wedding, among other things. you take robb’s arm as he escorts you, margaery, and loras to where you’ll be staying at. robb drinks in every moment with you.

you’re gorgeous, soft, & warm. you have a kind heart, a love for the arts and children, and you’re very kind. your shy nature bubbles away as you grow more comfortable in each others presence.

that night, a great feast is held. everyone of the starklings is made to be in attendance, and robb prays that arya can keep her withering resolve just a little bit longer. you’re sat beside him, softly laughing at a remark ned had made. robb’s heart warms at the sight of you & his father getting along, but is quickly forgotten when he sees arya dash away & out of the hall. guards are sent after her, and robb bites back a smile at her daring antics.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts as your hand clasps his bicep, his head turns towards you as you lean into speak in his ear.

“forgive me, i must be excused. i’ll return shortly.” you say, a reassuring smile making its way onto your face as you get up. robb only nods, sighing in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves.

it’s a few minutes later when the queen of thornes sits next to him, striking up light conversation. judging his character, no doubt. at the end of it she nods her head in approval, asking him to please find her granddaughter — wherever she’s run off to. robb stands up with an-

“of course, my lady.”

moving to follow the direction you went in. it takes him outside, and he looks around, before his gaze settles on you & a small form behind you, a guard approaching in front of you. robb was lucky to be in earshot of you.

“pardon, my lady, we’re looking for arya underfoot, ned starks daughter. ‘bout yay high, brown of hair. have you seen ‘er ‘round?”

you were stood beside a pillar, one arm behind your back as you discreetly pressed arya further behind you. one shift of your form & arya would be revealed, dragged back to the festivities she had just escaped from. robb watched you from afar, careful not to give away your position — but close enough to hear & see your response. curiosity spread through him as he and the guard both awaited your answer.

your brows furrowed in faux confusion, looking at the guard with a soft expression.

“i must confess, i haven’t seen her. brown of hair, you said?”

the guard swallowed, nodding as he eyed you up & down. you smiled sweetly at him.

“i will be sure to keep an eye out, ser…?”

you slightly raised your brows, and the guard quickly gave you his name. you repeated it to him, and the guard nodded, smiling.

“would you be so kind to escort me back to the festivities? a castle like this.. it’s so easy to get lost.”

the guard quickly agreed, not being able to resist you, & robb is enamored, having witnessed the tyrell charm firsthand. what happens next seals the deal for robb.

as you move to take the guards arm, you spot loras patrolling, his path sending him to pass on the other side of the pillar that you’re at. the eye contact between you both is minimal, and robb almost misses your eyes slightly widen & the small nod of his head. with one swift move, you’re grasping the guards bicep & using your other hand to gently push arya to your older brother, as he outstretches his hand just enough for arya to get the hint. as you walk off, loras has one hand on aryas shoulder, ushering her off with a wink — & robb watches the smile grow on aryas face as she slips away.

yeah, he thinks. you’re perfect.

his winter rose.

sorry if this was too long or not what you were envisioning, but i had sm fun writing this !! tyrell supremacy

[zhelin-thames]

Danny meets JL members #8

[Danny floating around a space station, inspecting glowing tech. Green Lantern (Hal Jordan) appears, constructing a giant glowing boxing glove with his ring.]

Green Lantern: [grinning] Who are you, Casper? And why are you messing with that? Danny: [turning around] First of all, rude. Second, it’s Danny, not Casper. Third… this thing was glowing. I’m like a moth to a flame.

Danny: [looking at Hal’s ring] Cool toy. Green Lantern: [smirking] It’s not a toy. It’s a highly advanced weapon powered by willpower. Danny: Uh-huh. So, like… can I try it? Green Lantern: [laughs] No way, kid. Danny: [phases through Hal and tries to grab the ring] Come on, share the cool space bling! Green Lantern: [yanks his hand away] Okay, definitely no.

[Danny watching Hal make constructs]

Danny: You’re telling me that thing can make anything? Green Lantern: Yep. As long as I can imagine it and have the will to sustain it. Danny: [grinning] So, like, a giant pizza? Green Lantern: [sighs, makes a glowing green pizza] There. Happy? Danny: [pretending to eat it] Meh, needs ectoplasm.

[Hal sees Danny go intangible to dodge lasers during a fight.]

Green Lantern: Okay, not bad, Ghost Boy. Danny: Thanks. You’re doing great too—for someone using a glowing green mood ring. Green Lantern: [narrowing eyes] It’s not a mood ring. Danny: [grinning] You sure? It kinda screams “emotional support jewelry.”

[Danny tries to prank Hal mid-mission.]

Danny: [phasing into the cockpit of Hal’s spaceship] Boo! Green Lantern: [not even looking] Saw your glowing trail. Nice try. Danny: Dang it! Why do you space people keep catching me? Green Lantern: Kid, you literally glow. Stealth is not your strong suit.

[Green Lantern tests Danny’s creativity with constructs.]

Green Lantern: If you had a ring, what would you make? Danny: [grinning] A giant thermos to trap bad guys. Green Lantern: …Why a thermos? Danny: Because ghosts. Duh. Green Lantern: [muttering] This is why I don’t work with teenagers.

[Green Lantern complains to the Justice League group chat.]

Green Lantern: Why is the ghost kid my problem today? The Flash: He’s everyone’s problem, Hal. Welcome to the club. Wonder Woman: Perhaps he’s a test of patience. Batman: He’s surprisingly effective. Danny: [joins the chat] Aw, Bats thinks I’m useful. Green Lantern: Who gave him access to this chat?!

[Later, Danny with Sam and Tucker]

Danny: So, I met Green Lantern today. Cool guy, bit of a control freak. Tucker: Dude, his ring can do anything! Did you try it? Danny: No, but I did call it a mood ring. Pretty sure he hates me now. Sam: Sounds about right.

Masterpost

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

CONSUMED by dadsbestfriend!Price rn

He and your dad served together when they were both younger men, boys really, and they fought side by side for years before your dad packed all that in and decided not to renew his contract - leaving for a white picket fence life with your mum and you

You’ve never gotten to meet him before, but you feel like you kind of know him anyways because of the stories you’ve grown up hearing. He’s always been like a kind of figment of your imagination, someone your dads always spoken highly of in all of his tales from drunken weekends and adrenaline spiked firefights, he’s like some kind of mythic hero haloed in beer fumes and musing looks that get shut down when your mum asks if they both got themselves into any trouble on their latest gambit

Sure, you’ve seen pictures, you know what his face looks like, vaguely anyways. Apparently he has mutton chops now, something your dad is ‘always shocked by’ when they meet up now. However the pictures don’t do him justice. You realise that quickly after you do lay eyes on him.

You go over to your parents house, summoned for an early birthday dinner for your dad, and that’s when you see him. The man, the myth, the legend is cosied up on your usual spot on the corner couch, at the end of the short side with the chunky red tartan pillow barricading the hard brown couch arm. He turns when he sees you staring directly at him, meeting your gaze with a raised eyebrow.

The pictures didn’t really encapsulate how big he was, how broad his shoulders were as they took up an expanse of the chair back, how expressive his eyes were as they rover over you, how nauseatingly good he looked when ripped out of the confines of ink and paper and pressed into the lumpy old sofa you’d never been so needy to jump onto before.

Every little overworked neuron in your mind was busy exploding while you pictured tugging on his hair and beard and moaning out filthy things for him.

“You must be the kid,” Price observes, not knowing how much it would sting you, “how’s the head?”

If you weren’t aware of how childish it would be you’d huff that you were far from being a kid anymore.

“How’s my what?” Part of you wants to quip back that it’s ‘great- it comes recommended’ but then the sane part of you kicks in and thinks ‘perhaps don’t get yourself kicked out just as you’ve gotten in the door’

“Your dad showed me that charming little photo you stuck in the family group chat from the party last night. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree by the looks of it.”

Your face would flame up like a radiator in the dead of winter, you were just about spluttering and hissing like one too. You’d forgotten all about the drunken selfie you’d sent while in a full haze of peace love and a couple draws of your friend’s j after countless rum and cokes. ‘Love u guys, see ya tomoz’ you’d typed over it - remembering how you fumbled and squinted at the screen just so that it would be halfway coherent. Now sober, you knew it probably wasn’t.

“Fuck me, it actually sent,” you grumbled, jumping when you hear his earthy laugh tumble out.

His voice is like tree bark and honey, stolen straight from the mountains and imbued into his throat. You hang on his every sound, keen eyes glued to his plush pink lips that Peak out from under his beard.

You hardly notice your dad coming in until he’s all but shouting your name, wrapping you in for a bear hug you weren’t in the slightest prepared for.

Every response form there on out was hazy, as if it had been preprogrammed. For the entire night all you’d be able to focus on was John - He’d tell you to call him that after awkwardly addressing him as Sir, though not before something dark slithered over his eyes and passed in the instant it had come.

You’d spent the whole night fixated on John, hanging on his every word, sighing heavily when he reached back and combed through his hair, tousling it to a point that made you wonder if that’s how it looked after a night well spent in passion.

You were lucky you got through the dinner without making an arse of yourself, though to be fair your mum had gotten a jab in about how quiet you’d been. Better that than being embarrassing.

Though you weren’t to get away unscathed. It’d get late and after spending the whole night before fanatically talking and dancing, you had no energy left for being at your parents - present company included or not. However before you could call a taxi, Price would jump in and offer you a lift, claiming taxis were far too unsafe for someone so precious.

It’d make your parents laugh, but you weren’t even smiling. You’d stutter your excuses, telling him he didn’t need to make a fuss, but he’d be persistent. Being an army Captain and all, he was very difficult to argue with, so of course you found yourself in the passenger seat of his monstrous car, watching nervously as the old beast sputtered to life.

“Is this thing even legal to ride?” You’d mutter, frowning at the persistent choking noise that rattled underneath the engine roar.

“Could ask the same about you.”

It was barely a whisper, almost lost to the growl in his throat and the sound of the engine, but you were so sure you’d heard it said nonetheless. The possibility of it sent your back stick straight and your mouth plummeting to the floor, though in the back of your mind you wondered if you’d only heard him say it from out of the depths of your subconscious.

“Excuse me?” You’d chirp.

“I said: couldn’t get you to pull up some directions, could you?”

He’d side eye you as he said it, smiling to himself as he indicates and pulls out onto the road and out of the cul-de-sac.

Right. Directions, of course. You were just being filthy minded, you’d had a long couple days and you were strung out and tired. Why would he insinuate that he wanted to know if you were the right age to fuck or not. Especially when - even if you were by many measures - he was off limits to you. Forbidden. No go. Like the battle zones he probably waded into through his day job.

“Here you go. It’s not far!”

You’d pull up your phone, placing it on the dashboard so that he could see. He’d tell you to put on music too, shocking you when he’d produce an aux cord (by rights this car shouldn’t have even had the words aux cord uttered in it, but somehow it supported one).

“What kind of stuff do you listen to?” You’d ask, waiting to hear whatever dreary nonsense he was likely to come out with.

“What do you think I listen to?” He’d ask, barely paying attention to you as he made his way down the main road. “I’ll be happy with whatever you put on.”

“I mean i doubt our tastes are super similar.”

“You trying to drive at somethin’ here, sweetheart?”

You’d light up at the name, lighting up from the inside out in quiet awe. It’d be a challenge having to suppress your little firework show off happiness, so you’d hide it by shrugging and saying “figured you’d listen to old man music.”

He’d shake his head and grumble about ‘no such thing’ up until you put on an old Killers song and watched him smile - then you’d sagely nod your head and repeat ‘old man music’ delighting in his playful growl.

“Killers ain’t even that old sweetheart, at least stick some Dylan or Cash on if you’re gonna patronise me.”

“This came out in 2004, dude - I don’t know what to tell ya. It’s old.”

“Dude,” he’d grunt back. “Earlier it was Sir, was it not?”

You’d flush again and face the window, suddenly absorbing yourself in the outside world. The way he said that was far too…inviting. The no go zone was looking like the ‘get right the fuck in here and stomp all over your parents relationship with this man’ zone.

You couldn’t help yourself.

“Sorry, sir,” you’d tease. “Won’t happen again.”

Stupid insatiable brat, you’d inwardly curse, watching as Price’s smile widened again, pulling his whole face into a knowing grin.

It’d be clear to see you weren’t the only one fighting the urge to cross the barrier and take what you wanted. And with two people smashing at the confines…well.

One thing was for certain, you knew it in the pit of your belly, there was no way you were going to stay away now.

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

Guns N’ Roses Fic: Joyride

Summary: You and Axl take a long car ride together, along the winding country roads, hoping it'll cool down his grouchy mood. When that doesn't work, you decide to take matters into your own hands and cuddle with him. This exacerbates the whole situation, causing Axl to take his frustrations out on you, to the point where you use your safe word. Requested by anon.

Characters: Axl Rose and (female) reader.

Pairing(s): Axl Rose/female reader, Axl Rose/ reader.

Rating: Explicit, 21+

Word Count: 3,186

Warnings: Cussing, physical altercation, childhood trauma, fingering, anal penetration, humiliation, degradation, oral sex, water sports, and cutting.

A/N: This is considered dark fiction. Please, DO NOT read if a physically rough Axl isn't your cup of tea. If it is, I hope you enjoy!

It was a cold October day. The wind rustled through the trees, forcing red, orange, and yellow leaves to fall on the ground like snow.

You sat in the passengers seat of Axl’s car, watching the scenery unfold in front of your peripheral vision. Then your eyes wandered over to Axl where he kept his focus on the road, not daring to look at you, while gripping the steering wheel tightly and clenching his jaw. He was vexed. You did notice a slight shift of tension fuming in the air this morning, but weren’t able to pinpoint what caused his irritation.

Unlike Axl’s usual days, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, in a fowl mood, not bothering to say “good morning,” or greet you with a sweet, tender kiss. During breakfast, he ignored your presence by pretending to be lost in thought as he idly picked at his scrambled eggs with a fork like a picky child. When you asked what was bothering him he let the silence fill your ears of his vacant troubles. It stumped you. He was never this quiet. He always ranted and cursed on and on about what made him furious. Was he angry at one of his bandmates? Did you do something wrong? Did he have a bad dream? Were you the one who induced a nightmare on his behalf? So many questions swarmed your head, yet, none of them were answered.

You didn’t notice any behavioral changes last night. He came home from the studio, ate dinner with you, chatted, shared a bottle of wine, and went to bed. Maybe he drank too much and was experiencing a mild hangover? Or maybe he stored away his problems to be dealt with the next day? You couldn’t be for certain.

“Babe,” your voice cut through the quietness like a knife. “Talk to me.”

A few seconds passed before Axl muttered a reply. “‘Bout what?”

You shrugged. “About you. What’s got you so upset?”

You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of a response, or perhaps a lie. “Nothing. Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s none of your damn business anyway,” he grumbled.

“I want to make it my business.” You insisted playfully, showing your pearly white teeth in hopes it would lighten his mood.

Unfortunately, Axl never broke eye contact from the road. He exhaled a huff through his nostrils and repositioned his hands on the wheel.

“You’re not mad at me, are you…?” It felt like you were treading on thin ice. You didn’t want to annoy Axl by bombarding him with questions, but you also wanted to know who, or what, pissed him off, and help him cope. It tore you apart whenever you saw him fighting his own demons alone. You wanted to remind him that he didn’t have to battle any of his hardships by himself. You were there by his side and were willing to help, no matter the circumstances. Even if it meant getting scorched by the flames.

“Just drop it,” he cautioned.

You were beginning to feel the ice crack below your feet. One more word and you could plunge into the deep, cold, dark abyss. Leaning back in the seat, you watched the green hills and cattle roll past. If he was shut off from words, maybe physical affection might help warm his heart, you thought.

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his body stiffen at the contact. “Shh, shh.” Your delicate, slim fingers traced over his Celtic cross tattoo, rubbing small circles on the skull version of himself. You loved cuddling him and feeling the heat radiate off his body into yours. It felt comforting.

Axl grunted and shoved you away from his shoulder with such force that your head thumped into the window. “Ow! What the fuck?!” You yelled, covering your head where it throbbed.

“Don’t fuckin’ try me!” He warned.

You were shocked your head didn’t break through the glass, or at least crack the pane. You stared at him and saw no lines of remorse etched into his features. If he wanted to be rough and take it out on you, fine. But you weren’t gonna allow his temper to bring you down to his level. Two opposite attractions could play at this game. Your only hope was to win over his gentle side.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you launched yourself at Axl by wrapping your arms around the side of his neck, and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Within an instant, you felt his jaw unclench, causing your lips to sink further into his smooth skin. Your eyes widened in surprise and were convinced you solved his problems. All he needed was a simple kiss to make his issues disappear!

However, within another beat of a second, Axl slammed on the breaks, swerving across the road, as the car shrieked to a halt. You clung onto him for dear life as you tried not to get catapulted out the windshield. Once he put the car in park, he peeled your arms away, grabbed you by the shoulders, and threw you over the backseat of the car. Landing on your back, the air was knocked from your lungs, and the next thing you saw was Axl climbing over the seats, pinning you down with his body.

“Wanna fuck with me, huh? You stupid bitch!” He taunted, slapping you across the face. “Fine. Then get fucked by me.” Forcing your body over, he hoisted your ass in the air, stripping your waist of your skirt and panties. You could feel his hardened erection, through the seam of his jeans, press into your butt.

Knowing he would ram into you without providing any saliva as lube, you tried scurrying away. But Axl used his hands to hold your hips in place. You weren’t prepared to experience this type of punishment. “Axl, wait-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He undid his leather belt, unzipped his pants, and freed his cock. Axl hovered over your backside, using both his thumb and index finger to pinch your clit. You jolted at the intense sensation.

“This is what you get for not listening to me,” he growled into your ear.

“I-I’m sorry-“

“Yeah? You should be.” Letting go of your clit and repositioning his hips against your ass, he sheathed his cock into your cunt, making you wince at the rawness. Axl held your upper body down, pushing your face into the leather seat, as he sucked on his middle finger to slide it up your ass.

You scrunched your face together and whined against the seat, muffling your cries. You hated anal penetration.

When you were a child, your parents gave you enemas to soften your stool, but that backfired, and resulted in you screaming at the top of your lungs while thrashing on the floor until it was over. From that day forward you always questioned how others found anal sex pleasurable. It made you cringe every time one of your friends talked about their own experiences.

But here you were, as an adult, laying face down, but instead of an enema, it was Axl’s finger. Luckily, his finger was slim so it didn’t hurt as much. However, if it was his cock, then it’d be crossing the line.

Axl slowly pumped his finger in and out of your hole, feeling the way your pussy clenched around his cock like a glove every time his finger slipped in and out. He managed to fill you up on both sides and remind you who was in charge.

Axl noted how quiet you became, minus the subtle whimpering, and tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “You gonna be a good girl?”

You nodded, not wanting your ass to feel invaded like this ever again.

“Are you lying?”

You immediately shook your head. “N-no!”

“You sure?” He licked his lips and pulled both his finger and cock out, making you feel empty.

“If you’re lying, babygirl…” Axl teased the tip of his cock near the rim of your butthole, pushing it in a little.

“No, stop!” Before he could continue and slide his dick in, you remembered your safe word - the one you used for bedroom activities. “Nightrain! Nightrain! Nightrain!”

Axl stopped, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What?”

“Nightrain. Please, Axl…don’t do this.” You were worried the safe word wouldn’t apply to punishments like this, but he was also overstepping your boundary, and you needed him to stop before it escalated any further. “I’ll be a good girl for you, okay? I promise.” You begged your heart out, hoping he could be convinced. “I’ll drop it and pretend nothing happened.”

Upon hearing those words, he leaned his face closer to yours while his warm breath tickled your ear, making you quiver. “Damn right nothing happened. If you don’t want my dick up your ass then do me a favor.”

You sniffled. “Anything.”

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You hesitated at the request but complied. You took off your blouse and unclasped your bra.

A small smirk formed across Axl’s lips. “Good girl. Now, step outside.”

Your heart began beating rapidly in your chest. You peered through the window and found no other cars occupying the road. You exhaled a sigh of relief and stepped out onto the asphalt, covering both breasts with your hands. The outside bore a sharp breeze, making your entire body shiver, and form goosebumps. If any passerby’s saw you, you were sure it would make your temperature rise.

Axl got out of the car, opened the trunk, and motioned you to come closer. You gulped and did so at your own pace, dragging our feet to postpone the forbidding dread that sank into your stomach.

“Get in,” he ordered.

“…Axl-“

He snapped his fingers. “Get in. Or do you want my cock up your ass?”

“Neither!”

He stepped forward, his face a few inches from yours. “You don’t have much of a choice. If I were you, I’d do it this way,” he advised.

You pouted. This wasn’t fair, it was embarrassing. Why couldn’t he just bend you over his knee, tan your ass with a spanking, and drive home like all his other punishments? Why was he trying something new? The bastard…

“How come?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s part of your punishment, baby.” He sensed your unease which made him feel a little guilty. He never meant to take things too far, but whenever he did, it seemed impossible to retrace his steps and start over from square one again. “Look, I know you’re scared, but don’t be. I ain’t gonna hurt you, or crash the car, or plunge it into a river.”

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. That made you feel a tiny bit better but you still held your doubts. You lied down in the trunk, curling into a ball to stave off the coldness.

Axl went into the car, retrieved his leather jacket from the front seat, and came back to drape it over your nude figure. “Better?”

“Yeah…”

“Count some sheep, honey. You’ll be out of there before you know it.” He closed the trunk and drove off.

You huddled yourself underneath his jacket while imagining a cloud of sheep jumping over your head. “One…two…three…” Not only did it help keep your mind occupied, but it also made you feel less claustrophobic.

The rattling of the car acted as white noise. Your body gently swayed left and right whenever Axl took a turn. He was careful not to turn the car too sharply because he knew your body could accidentally get bruised. He figured he crossed a line with you and regretted it. It was difficult to control his actions whenever his anger overpowered him. It’s like his body was on autopilot and he’s forced to watch, through a red lens, all the horrific things he’s doing to you until his rage dissipated. He wanted to make it up to you, and he knew the perfect way to do it while keeping you fooled that it was still a punishment.

Once you counted 200 sheep you felt the car come to a halt, hearing the front door open. Rock music was playing in the background while you heard distant chatter. Were you at a dive bar? In a parking lot somewhere? You couldn’t tell. Suddenly, you felt Axl - or at least you hoped it was him - get back in the car, shut the door, and drive away from whatever place you two stopped at. Another question rang through your mind…and it wouldn’t stop nagging at your conscious. What did Axl buy?

Minutes later, Axl opened up the trunk, revealing your figure before his lust-hungry eyes. You squinted, allowing your eyes to adjust to the natural glow of the sunset while noticing you weren’t at the house, parked in the driveway. Instead…you were at a vacant park. No parents or their children were around the playground area. It was empty. It almost looked abandoned. From a faint distance, you could see rust on the metal monkey bars. The place was definitely worn down by weather and everybody who touched it.

You looked at Axl as he sat down next to you, pulling away his leather jacket from your body. “It’s cold-“

“I know it’s cold, baby. Your punishment is almost over,” he reassured.

Rubbing you hands over your arms to create friction, you asked, “What else do I have to do?”

“Nothing. Just lay there and close your eyes.”

This made you suspicious. “You’re not gonna do anything, are you…?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he repeated. “I think you might enjoy it. Lay back and close your eyes for me.”

Since when were punishments supposed to be enjoyable? You decided not to waste anymore time, mostly because it was cold and you didn’t want to get frostbites, you laid down and closed your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praised.

You heard the rustling of plastic. Axl was taking something out of a plastic bag. Wherever he stopped the car at, he bought something to use on you, or against you. You hoped the latter wasn’t the case. Was it a vibrator? A whip? A paddle? A gag? You weren’t sure. But you were gonna find out.

Suddenly, without warning, you felt a cold trickle of liquid cascade across your chest, flowing over your breasts, and down your pubic bone. “What the-“ You opened your eyes and saw Axl pouring a bottle of champagne over you. “Axe! What are you doing?!”

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“I’m freezing!” You protested, closing your eyes again. This certainly wasn’t the type of punishment you had in mind.

“Aww, is the little girl cold?” Axl sneered, setting the bottle of champagne down on the grass. “Here. Let daddy help warm you up.”

You felt Axl hover above you, the same way he did in the car earlier, and latched his lips onto the mound of your breast, licking away the champagne. Upon feeling his heated breath on you, your eyes widened, causing your lips to release a surprised gasp.

He pulled away and placed his mouth on your other breast, cleaning away the alcoholic nectar. “Mmm~”

“Augh, Axe…” You moaned.

After releasing your other boob, he used his tongue to lick a trail down your body, tasting the sweet, bubbly champagne on your skin. He kept traveling down until he reached your pubic mound. Reaching for the champagne again, he tilted the bottle downward, allowing the liquid to hit your clit, similar to how a showerhead would.

Your breathing increased as you bucked your hips against the champagne stream, stimulating your clit. Axl noticed your eagerness and tilted the bottle upward, taking a quick swig for himself, before throwing the bottle on the grassy knoll. “This pussy’s gonna taste fantastic.”

“Mmff…it’s all yours, cowboy.”

“Damn right it’s all mine.” Setting your legs onto his shoulders, Axl inched closer to your cunt until you felt his hot breath waft over your swollen clit. He dove in, licking up and down your slit at a gradual pace, causing your eyes to roll back into your head.

“Fuuuuck…”

The sweetness of the champagne combined with your own slick juices created a perfect flavor that Axl couldn’t deny. He could drink it forever and get wasted on it. He suctioned his lips around your clit, sucking on the perked bud, making you squirm and squeal beneath him as his eyes bore into your twisted facial features.

Axl flicked his tongue over your clit, adding pressure on the sensitive gem to heighten your buildup while swirling his tongue clockwise, then counter clockwise, around it.

"Oh my god!" You shrieked, bucking your hips against his mouth which caused his nose to make contact with your clit. "I'm close, so close...."

Axl used his final seconds to remove his mouth from your clit and replace it with his thumb, stroking the nub effortlessly until you came undone.

You arched your back, screaming his name, and scraping your nails on the bed of the trunk while your toes curled from the orgasmic bliss.

Axl repositioned himself again to collect the stream of hot nectar that flowed from your cunt onto his sharp tongue, gulping away your cream.

Your body fell limp. A dark shade of crimson colored the palette of your flushed cheeks. You haven't came that hard in a long time. You sort of forgot it was even possible to experience such an orgasm...until Axl reminded you tonight.

Looking up at the sky, you saw stars, not from being dazed, but from space, as the small specks of white light shined down on the two of you. You were so entranced by the beauty of it, you forgot Axl was even sucking away your cum like a leech. You didn't feel him remove himself or anything. But you did hear a bottle break in the distance, and then you felt a glass shard cut into your inner thigh, breaking your focus from the night sky. "Ah! Fuck!"

After Axl saw the blood oozing out of the mark, he cleaned your fresh wound with his tongue, causing you to flinch at the sudden pain.

"What the hell was that for?!"

He grinned. "It's a reminder for you not to misbehave again."

You were baffled by his words. "Trust me. I won't misbehave ever again."

"In case you do, look into the mirror and remember this cut. Though, if it does slip your mind, I won't show you any mercy next time, capisce?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, daddy. But I'm confused. Was this my punishment...?"

Axl sighed, cupping the side of your face with the palm of his hand, and stroking your cheek, the same cheek he had slapped. "It was a reward for surviving your punishment in my trunk."

It dawned on you. Your punishment was either the trunk or having him ram his dick inside your ass unforgivingly. He allowed you to have a choice - unlike the previous punishments - and it appeared you made the right decision with this one. "Oh, charming."

He smiled and kissed your bruised cheek. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “C’mon. Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.” He carried you, bridal-style, to the passengers side and drove off into the night.

The safe word saved. Hopefully it could save you again on another night?

Taglist:

Side-note: if anybody wants to be added on my taglist for certain eras/characters, let me know!

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone, happy Wednesday <3 This will be my last wip until two weeks time due to the holiday so we'll get back to normal Jan 1st. Starting the new year off right :)

Thank you for the tag @hircines-hunter <3

Tagging: @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @pocket-vvardvark

@firefly-factory @changelingsandothernonsense @ladytanithia @lucien-lachance @scholarlyhermit @captain-of-silvenar

Theodora's children have taken over my brain and I got this silly idea of Arthano visiting Ceri at the CoW while she is working under Faralda in Destruction. Though she notices he's acting odd, not like himself... he's so real for this love older women under the cut because long EDIT: He has blood on him from fighting a bear earlier he's fine don't worry about him

Whilst they are chatting in the main courtyard, her explaining the three different towers and what they contained, her mentor approaches them. 

“Hello Professor Faralda, how are you this afternoon?” There’s a notable change in her brother’s, suddenly standing taller as he removes the bloodied gloves, holding them behind his back as though he were hiding them. 

“I’m quite well, Ceridwen.” A soft smile towards her before turning to him. “Ah, you must be Arthano, your sister mentioned her brother would be visiting.” 

“Yes, I am Ceridwen’s brother, pleasure to meet you Professor Faralda.” Ceridwen? Ata and Ricardo called that, Mother only doing so in formal settings; her eldest sibling never used her full name. Only ever Ceri. It felt foreign hearing it in his voice, saying it casually like it was the norm for them. Now that she thinks more on it, everything he said sounded unlike him. Far too formal to come naturally from the lovable but brash man she knew him to be. Here he was using the type of speech they made fun of others for, especially their brother. Even on serious occasions, he had a habit of making jokes out of anything and everything; now very polite.  

“I’ve been told you are a mage yourself, a conjurer specifically.” Gesturing with his hand, the older continues with his odd speech, adding mannerism to the mixture as well. 

“Yes, I mostly work with bound weapons but I’ve dabbled a bit in Destruction myself. Nowhere near Ceridwen but not inexperienced.” Dabbled? Is that what he calls it?

“What spells in particular? Electromacy like your sister?” 

“I mostly stay in the realm of pyromancy.” Repeated use of the Flames spell because he coulded be bothered to learn more is not exactly what she would refer to as pyromancy; Arthano was always one to stretch the truth. Faralda extends a similar smile to him now. 

“Hmm,, very interesting, I assume you’ll be accompanying Ceridwen to dinner this evening?” 

“Naturally of course.”

“Well, perhaps we all can discuss further then, I have some work to attend to now.” Turning to leave, the instructor makes one final comment. “Arthano?” 

“Yes Faralda?” Such a stupid grin wipes over his face. What is going on with him?

“You are very much as your sister described you. Though I’d wash the blood off before dinner.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Still caught up in how abnormal he’s being, it’s not until he opens his mouth again does she draw a conclusion. Fixing his posture, uncharacteristically proper tone, inflating his Destruction skills as if they were  No.

“Hmm, so you’ve mentioned me?” His eyes still watching Faralda leave she seizes the opportunity while he’s distracted. Ripping one of the gloves out of his hand, she whacks him with it. 

“No, no, no!” 

“What the fuck? I haven't done anything!” At last he is sounding like himself again. One more smack in the shoulder as she disregards what he is saying. “Help help, I’m being assaulted!”  

“I’m sorry I don’t want my brother trying to get with my advisor!” 

“I’m not trying to do anything, Ceri. Just introducing myself, I don’t know if you’ve heard but that is the polite thing to do when meeting someone for the first time.” Another smack as she throws the glove this time, letting him retrieve it from the snow. 

“Like I believe that,” In an attempt to mimic his voice she utters his own words back at him “I’ve also dabbled a bit in Destruction myself, please.” As he stands up, dawning the bloodied gloves once again. “It’s gross.” A smirk almost as stupid as his grin prior appears. 

“Well Ceri, that’s not nice to say about your professor. Respect your elders, she seems far from gross.” 

Ugh her brother strived to find the balance between charming and insufferable, something he was normally good at. Being naturally social had its benefits. Everyone could appreciate a good joke and if they couldn’t, well then he had no reason to bother with them further. Now however, knowing he had an interest in her mentor, the woman who had graciously taken her under her wing, makes her more annoyed than anything.

“You, you’re gross.” Briefly, her hands flex, forgetting she has already thrown the glove at him. “And she’s too old for you.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t say that, how old is she?” Brow raised in curiosity, the younger answers him before it occurs to he should not be given such details. 

“She’s one-hundred twenty something, don’t remember exactly.” 

“Oh we’re fine, less than a century apart. Barely noticeable even.” The gap between her and Ralos was barely noticeable, two years; Ninety-odd years was definitely something to take note of. But unfortunately this checked out for her brother, perhaps she can introduce him to someone else, maybe the bard at The Frozen Hearth. He had long, shiny, blonde hair. Very within his type.

“That’s a pretty large gap, Arthano.” He shrugs. 

“Well, Mother and Ata are what? One-hundred? One-hundred ten years apart? I’m doing well comparatively.” She stutters, trying to find the right words to shut him up, he is however, too quick for her. “Why is she a war criminal?” 

“What? No, absolutely not.” The College was a neutral organization, both faculty and students coming from across Tamriel for the purposes of advancing magical study. Conflicts were left at the gates, to imply anything different was a lie. But he’s not implying anything about the College, rather making a further comparison to their parents.  

"So I'm actually doing great."

“I should lock you in my dorm tonight and let you starve.”

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 3

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Irregular eating habits mentioned specifically in this chapter (WC: 5.5k)

( Previous chapter / Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

-

You spot him alone in the library. Months have passed and winter has made its presence known.

Levi is staring at the fire. When his eyes lock with yours, you think they lack their usual cutting edge. Instead, he just looks tired.

“You gonna gawk much longer?” he asks. 

“Well…” Your grip on your book tightens; you stay rooted to your spot. “You don’t mind if I intrude?”

“This is a public space, isn’t it?”

It is, but it doesn’t mean you won’t ask.

Levi doesn’t leave when you sit on the sofa opposite him. The two of you stay like this, letting the crackling fire be your guiding light into the night.

.

.

.

It isn’t that Levi always preferred being alone, it’s just that it’s had a way of finding him.

Growing up, Levi remembers seeking affection—craving it, in fact—like a moth seeks a flame. Levi worshiped the ground his mother walked on, loved to listen to her speak, imitated her, anything to hear a “Well done, my Levi”. He imagines it made him a needy brat, that he was probably a burden to his mother.

When she died, he thinks that's when it happened. When he began to close in on himself, when he started to keep his emotions close to his heart.

"My boy, what wonderful craftsmanship!" Mr Jakowski's joyful voice assault's Levi's ears, plugging him out of his wandering thoughts.

Levi looks up at his boss, ignoring the smell of fresh paint.

Mr Jakowski is leaning over Levi’s shoulder, spectacles shining under the dim amber light. A large grin creeps on his rosy face, a contrast to the blue paint smeared on his white shirt. "What are ya making, hm? Is that something—"

"—personal," Levi cuts him off, shifting in his seat to conceal his work.

His boss lets out a loud bark. He pulls back from Levi. “Hah, mysterious as always, our Levi!”

Levi has been working at Mare Lumber Co. for a little more than a year now. His boss, Adam Jakowski, originally an Eldian from Liberio, is the sole carpenter in town. Levi likes working here. Most days, Levi tends to the till, manages the inventory, and assists Mr Jakowski with customer orders. It's routine work, really, but it feels good to be working with his hands, with his mind. 

“And how are you doing?” Mr Jakowski asks, propping his back against the edge of the counter, a habit of his whenever he chats idly with Levi. 

“I'm fine.”

"Are ya sure? You seem a little distracted, dear boy."

Mr Jakowski got in the habit of calling Levi ‘dear boy’ shortly after he took the job. At first, Levi told him off—sure, Mr Jakowski was older than Levi, but Levi was nearing his forties at this point. Levi was not a boy—never had been, perhaps.

And yet, he soon noticed something strange: every time he corrected the man, Mr Jakowski would correct himself, a distant glaze in his stare… only to make the same mistake the next day.

One day, his wife took Levi aside.

“You musn’t be cross with him, Levi,” Mrs Jakowski had said with a gentle voice. “My Adam and I… we lost our son ten years ago. Marleyans butchered him. And ‘dear boy’… that was Adam’s nickname for our son. Sometimes, I think… I think in his heart, my husband never quite got over it.”

After that, Levi never corrected Mr Jakowski again.

“Levi, are you listening to me?" Mr Jakowski laughs. "You’ve got that glaze in your eyes of a dreamer, the way my daughter be sometimes. Never seen it on ya before.”

Levi scowls. “I think you need to clean your glasses, old man.”

“Is it that missy staying at your house that’s got you looking so—”

“No.”

“Sure about that?”

At that, Levi stays silent. Of course, he’s sure. He'll be damned if he lets trifling innuendos get under his skin.

And yet, Mr Jakowski's eyes glint knowingly all the same, as if catching wind of something Levi isn't aware of. It almost makes Levi want to speak up (though, to say what?), but before he has the opportunity to say a thing, the man leaves him be. Levi listens to his receding footsteps and the tinkering noises soon coming from the workshop area of the store.

Levi reverts his attention onto the wooden figurine in his hands, casting it an altogether unimpressed look.

What he’s making… it’s stupid, isn’t it?

For the last week and a half, Levi has been using his lunch breaks to work on it. Right now, this wooden creation is simply a great blob of nothing. And yet, Levi can’t stop from continuing it. It started with your arrival, this idea, when something spurred deep in him to create and he doesn't know if it will lead to anything.

Perhaps he's wasting his time, perhaps—

The bells on the door chimes. Levi's eyes swerve up.

And he promptly places the figure on his lap, concealed right under the counter.

Because you've just entered the shop, greeting him with a pleasant smile. “Afternoon, Levi!” The door closes, light pooling around you, dewy and delicate. "Are you on your lunch break?"

Levi lifts a brow but gives you a slow nod. 

"Oh, good, I was scared I got your lunch time mixed up..." You lift a basket that was hidden behind your back, showing it off like it was some prized thing. “Ta-da!”

Levi just stares, not understanding what he's supposed to be seeing. 

“I brought lunch.” 

Oh, that's a first. You've never come all the way into town to visit his place of work, let alone have lunch with him. Is this because he accidentally let it slip that he sometimes skips lunch on his work days? You seemed particularly affronted last night; you'd washed the dishes grumbling something beneath your breath... 

“Miss Adler, is that you?” As if on cue, Mr Jakowski appears to Levi's left side, safety glasses still lodged on his head. He lets out a full-belly laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I thought I recognized your melodic voice. It's good to see ya! I’ve been telling Levi to bring you around for some time now, but he's kept you all for himself."

"Has he, now?" you muse. "That's not very polite of you, is it, Levi?"

Levi keeps his expression blank.  

Mr Jakowski steps around the counter. "Is that lunch I see? You know, Levi rarely eats much in here."

“I know, that’s why I’ve come. I'm on a mission to change that, sir. I've brought lunch and even my secret trump card… cake!”

“You sure know the way to a man's heart, Miss Adler!” You pinch your lips, seemingly flustered, but Mr Jakowski is already shifting his attention to Levi, something almost devious splitting in his boss' expression. Levi's gaze narrows instantly, suspicious of whatever is to come next. “Now, you heard the lady, dear boy. You wouldn't want to reject the hospitality of such a kind woman, would ya?"

Levi considers Mr Jakowski. His offer sounds tempting enough, but Levi's already shirked his duties by working on his project. His lunch time is practically over...

His boss seems to read his mind. "Take an extra hour." Mr Jakowski walks over, squeezing Levi's shoulder—not painfully, but not lacking zest. The man leans closer, the smell of paint weaving into Levi's space once more. "Shop's quiet today, anyway—I'll handle it. And don't forget to hide that little secret of yours. Wouldn't want her to see your gift before it's finished, hm?"

Levi's eyes flicker from Mr Jakowski, then onto you. His shoulders rise... then fall again. He gives in with a sigh. You came all this way, after all, and Levi was never one to waste food.

“Fine,” Levi mutters, eying Mr Jakowski, “I'll be back in an hour, on the dot.”

.

.

.

“What are you reading?” you ask him one night. The two of you are at it again—sitting on different armchairs, reading in front of the fireplace. It's been a routine of yours these last evenings. 

“History books.”

You raise a questioning brow—that wasn't what you expected Levi to be interested in. 

Levi seems to pick up on your question before you even voice it.  “I want to understand why you upsiders do it.” 

Upsiders, the term coined by those living in the Underground for those living above.

You tilt your head. “Why we do what?”

“What you live for.”

.

.

.

Levi feels like he’s about to outright melt.

The park at this time of the day seems to gather heat like a damn magnet. Sitting on a picnic blanket under a large willow tree isn’t enough to stop sweat from coating his neck—summer is in full swing, and even the yellowing grass blades around them seem to feel its effects.

Over the last minutes, you’ve been telling him all about your morning: how you worked in the garden, how you cleaned up around the house.

“… then I went back into town to buy lunch," you explain, one hand outstretched as you caress the grass blades with the tip of your fingers. You seem content, relaxed. "I'm very excited to hear your thoughts on the cake, 'Vi. It’s a specialty from the Southern part of Marley, apparently.”

Levi squints, the eyelid on his bad eye trembling from the glare cast by the sun. Laid out between the two of you is something that’s just short of a small feast. Sandwiches, sliced fruits, fresh lemonade, and a takeaway box that contains what Levi can only guess is this infamous cake you're so excited to make him try. 

Vegetables, cheese, sugar. Levi still isn’t used to having these ingredients in such abundance. Maybe he never will be. 

But he certainly won't let any of it go to waste. 

"Hey, didn't I tell you to take it easy?" Levi mutters, picking up a cheese sandwich. "You didn't need to waste your free time doing all of this.”

"Come on, after my big freakout from last week, it's the least I could do."

"I told you, it was nothing—“

“But it wasn’t to me. I wanted to do this,” you cut in, weighing each word like it held its value in gold. Levi notices you reeling your hands into fists... only to be ushered out of existence as you shrug off the uncertainty. “Besides,” a bright smile brackets over your face, "all of this is keeping me busy. If I don’t do this, well… I've found that I just want to sleep all the time. At least, like this, I’m too occupied with thinking too much. Know what I mean?”

Levi thinks he does. It's why he always enjoyed cleaning so much, to some extent; it kept the edge off of things. He isn’t sure what that says about either you or him.

"I'm glad I could see where you work," you continue. "The shop has a certain aura to it, doesn't it?"

"It's the smell of saw dust and paint. You get used to it."

"I meant there's warmth to the interior." You snort, rolling a particular grass strand between your index, tugging at it without ripping it out. "But I like the smell, too, now that you mention it. I've only dabbled in oil paintings here and there, but it reminds me of that. I imagine adding color to something—anything, really—for a living must be rewarding. You get to style furniture according to someone's wishes, make sure it's dear and personal to them. That's pretty amazing, right?"

Levi almost smiles. Count on you to spin what some might consider mundane work and describe it as something magical. You've always had a knack for doing that, even in times of adversity. 

"And that boss of yours sure seems eccentric," you muse as you lean back, "bet he makes every day feel extra special.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Your eyes drift up to the sparse clouds. “Special’s… good. Special’s fun.”

Levi's lips twitch. Yes, he supposes that's true. Many things can be said about Mr Jakowski, but boring is not one of them.

"You and him are similar in that way," he murmurs beneath his breath. 

(You make every single of his day feel special, too.) 

A gentle breeze picks up the front section of your hair; it makes the smile on your face more noticeable, somehow more in the spotlight. For a moment, a delicate silence settles in, one filled with the sound of tree branches swaying above, its shadows moving across your face. Levi catches himself staring at you—again. Before he knows it, he's watching as you draw your attention on the food options laid on the picnic blanket. Your eyes stop onto a particular plate. 

Without even thinking about it, Levi raises the plate towards you.

You grin, grabbing a slice of spinach pie. "Thanks." As Levi retreats his hand back, placing the plate back on the picnic blanket, he notices you pausing. His eyes meet yours; your eyebrows knit together. "Hey, what's that on your hand?"   

Levi feels the heat of your attention as he glances down at his palm. Ah, that. The bandage. Levi forgot all about it. Earlier, while working on his personal woodwork project, Levi accidentally cut himself. The cut is superficial in nature, and the blood that leaked out of it felt excessive. Like his body was being dramatic for no good damn reason.

Unsurprisingly, your reaction blows out of proportion, too. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?" 

"S'fine." Levi now holds his sandwich with both hands, trying to shield his bandaged hand so you don't reach for it (somehow, he thinks you will). He's not sure how to handle your care right now, so he turns away from you, pretending to be interested in seagulls foraging nearby. "I patched it up."

“Still, you should disinfect it when we’re home…”

(Levi still isn’t used to that term of possession. We. Like it's his home, as much as much it's yours. Something shared.)

"I can make an ointment that'll speed up the healing process, perhaps, so you're not encumbered for very long,” you continue. Levi glances back at you. You're holding your chin thoughtfully. “I’ll need to go buy some tea tree oil for that. Maybe I should also stock up on ethanol and other essentials while I’m at it...”

The sight of you all pouty causes Levi to scoff. “Thought you weren’t a doctor no more?”

He takes the last bite of his cheese sandwich. 

“For you, Levi, always.”

Levi chokes. He begins to cough, the half-eaten bread hammering at his chest. 

Your hand is on his back just as soon as his coughing fit starts. "You okay?"

Levi nods with a blank expression, swatting your touch away. He stares at you from the corner of his eyes, disbelief lodged behind his gaze. Shit. Why do you have to say stuff like that? It's like you're trying to make his heart explode or some shit. 

“Cutting yourself at work and almost choking to death.” You whistle lowly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch, Ackerman.”

“I choked because of you, Adler.”

“Because of me?” You blow air with your lips. “Why, what did I do?”

“You—“ Levi feels himself growing hot—too hot. Blast this damn heat. “Forget it.”

You lean back, looking at him curiously. “Is this the fate that awaits me in a few years when I reach your age? Choking and half-finished sentences?”

Levi’s eyes narrow. “Well, aren't you full of jokes today?”

“Thanks. I’m trying real hard, in case you couldn’t tell.” You bite back a full-teeth grin; Levi hates how adorable you look, even when you're teasing him—especially when you're teasing him. “Maybe that’s what I should pursue next, huh? Comedian… that'd be quite the career change.”

Levi shakes his head. “I’ll have to support you financially for the rest of your days.” 

A burst of laughter rolls out of you. It makes Levi feel queasier still.

“Hey," you say once your laughter has dimmed down. Your gaze holds his, bright and true. "What were you working on anyway, that you ended up cutting yourself?”

“Nothing.” Levi doesn’t supply you with more information, the memory of the unfinished figure flashing in his mind. It's trivial, the sort of work he's been doing, especially compared to what Mr Jakowski builds. “Just keeping busy.”

Because Levi’s life is just that now. He has to keep himself busy, to fill it with things so he doesn’t stop moving.

“Hey, Levi?” Levi looks back at you, and you shoot him a lopsided smile. “Do you ever think your past self would believe you’re out here now, carving wood for a living?”

Levi considers your question. He’s not the sort of person to wonder about these questions, but he’s not surprised that you still are. 

The answer is simple. No, his past self wouldn’t believe it. His past self wouldn’t believe most of it.  

He tells you as much, aching to change the subject. “What about you? Picked up a pencil yet?”

“Hm… not yet. Haven’t been feeling it, to be honest." There's something a little sad hanging on your face for the shortest moment, only to be replaced by wide eyes and parted lips. “But, oh, I promise, that doesn't mean I don't like your gift or anything. The supplies you bought—I'll make sure they don't go to waste! I just—”

"Hey, breathe," Levi interrupts, his eyes charged on you. "It's fine if you don't. There's no pressure.”

Your shoulders deflate. You give him a tired smile. “Thanks.”

In the distance, a school bell rings. Children begin to pour out of the building, like a flock of birds leaving the nest, knowing it is there to come back to.

“Anyway,” you say, reaching for the sealed container. “Enough of that. It's time for my favorite part of any meal: sweets. I’m eager to know your thoughts on this lemon tart.”

(The answer? Levi will discover he has a taste for lemon desserts.)

After that day, it becomes a routine of sorts. You show up some days to have lunch with Levi. On the grass under the willow in Mare, you and Levi watch the sea drift from afar, cake laid out between the two of you.

.

.

.

“Oi, what’s this?”

You look up from your notes on your desk. Levi has barged into your office, holding the silver tin you asked to be delivered to him. 

"That's Valerian root,” you answer.

”Valerian root,” he repeats, eying you suspiciously. “Why?”

"Um... think of it as a gift, I guess?"

"Why? We’re not friends."

A grimace flashes on your face—ouch. So, Levi doesn't see you as a friend, even if you're starting to consider him as such, anyway.

"Well., I noticed you seem to have insomniac tendencies, so I...” You clear your throat, swatting a dismissive hand in the air. “If it makes it easier to accept it, think of it as a medical order."

"A medical order." Levi scrunches his nose, pinching his lips together. "And what does Valerian root do, anyway? "

"Valerian root is tea. Or well, not tea. It's an infusion. But you can brew it the same way and it helps... it helps to fall asleep."

.

.

.

When Levi comes home that night after work, the sun is setting low over the sea, a red dot over the horizon. There's a gentle breeze in the air, one that carries with it the smell of salt and sand from the beach just below the valley. 

As soon as Levi is home, he slips into his usual patterns. He takes his shoes off, swapping them for the soft slippers Gabi and Falco once gifted him. He grabs his indoor cane by the entrance, just where he left it. Then, like a rite of passage, he makes his way to the common room, expecting to find you. 

You're not there. Instead, the quaint room that serves as a kitchen, living room, and dining room is empty, a distinct smell of herbs in the air.

Levi recognizes the scent almost immediately; it's the same fragrance that hung around the Survey Corps infirmary on any given day. Frankly speaking, Levi equates the smell with, well, you. It's been years since he smelled it.  

Peppermint, chamomile, tea tree oil... there was always a particular mixture of herbs you favored to treat ailments. Funding within the Survey Corps was sparse, after all, all the more within the medical wing, so to remedy this, you had to get creative: you bought cheap herbs in bulk and created balms with what the Survey Corps could afford. The same herbs Levi now smells in the air.

And Levi suddenly gets a sense of...

Home. 

It's corny, really, that all of a sudden, he feels more at home than the home he's inhabited in the year of living alone. But maybe that's the thing about getting older; there's just smells that remind of the past, things that feel impossible not to acknowledge.

In a way, Levi is grateful that those scents are what he associates with your infirmary, with your hands. Later, when his leg was wounded, and he became accustomed to the stomach-flipping stench of strong antiseptic solutions prevalent in Marleyan hospital tents, the memory of you—of his fucked-up sense of home—remained untainted.

"Oh, fuck!"

A crash assaults Levi's ears. He turns, only to find you half-bent down, picking up a pile of books from the ground. You straighten back up, looking flustered at the sight of him.

"L-Levi,” you huff, “y-you scared the living out of me!"

Levi's brows draw low, shooting you an unimpressed look in return. "Then you should pay better attention." You're holding onto a bunch of books that pertain to gardening. 'Flower symbolism' reads one cover.  "If these were the streets, you'd be a dead woman by now."

His words cause you to roll your eyes at him, although a playful tug of a smile graces your lips not a second later. "This isn't the streets, 'Vi. There's no one out there to hurt me, least of all within the confines of this house."

Levi knows you make a point, but his nature has always been to be suspicious of everything, and that much hasn't changed here. He wishes you'd be a little more careful, at least for his sake.

"Anyway, welcome back... how was the rest of your day?" You dart past him, placing your pile of books on the kitchen table.

Levi notices you've changed since he last saw you; you're now wearing a long skirt that reaches below your knees. Levi has never seen you wear anything like this. He wonders if you got it at the market in Mare, or if this is something you bought on your travels.

"Levi?"

Levi swerves his attention back to you.

Right, your question.

"Same as always." The rest of his day was, in fact, just as Mr Jakowski had predicted. Quiet. "What's all of this, then? You starting a bookclub or something?"

"Not quite. I spent my afternoon at the public library. Have you been?" Levi shakes his head. "Walls, Levi, it's even bigger than the one we had back hom–I mean, back on Paradis." You pick up a random book, flip through it and show him a page that's all about flower propagation. "I'm gonna make sure your garden's perfect."

Levi’s brows scrunch low. Truth be told, he doesn't see the big deal with flowers. Aren’t there more practical things to grow, like vegetables? Flowers seem to take up place and suffer the risk of easy destruction.

But maybe it's simply not for him to understand. 

"Hey Levi, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah.”

"What was I talking about?"

Levi glances at you. There's a spark of defiance flashes in your stare. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, face impassive. "Something something... gardening."

You chuckle, placing the book back on the table. "Actually, I was asking you if I could get your opinion on where to plant what tomorrow. You've got the next two days off, right? Can I spare a moment of your time?"

Levi doesn't work Saturdays and Sundays. The weekend, as Marleyans call it, is for rest.

"Yeah, I'll help." 

"Great!"

With that decision out of the way, Levi leaves you to it. He stops in his bedroom to grab a clean change of clothes and then heads to the bathroom to start his rigorous pre-dinner routine (Levi's found that he will not, cannot, rest before he completes it). 

It all starts with a shower, where Levi rubs at his skin until it is raw and pink, massages his scalp and hair until it's lathered and soapy, the scent of his lemon-scented soap rampant. Once Levi is pleased that every part of him is clean, he rinses himself with hot water, the act oddly meditative as he feels every muscle, every bone in his body come undone, one limb after another.

As soon as he's done and toweled dry, it's shaving time. 

Tonight, as Levi lays out his shaving kit by the sink, he can't help but pause at the sight of his reflection.

Levi stares at himself. 

Over the last three years, time has caught up to him, in more ways than one. His hair has gotten longer, yes, but it's the strands of silver now framing his face that Levi lingers on. Then, there are wrinkles on the sides of his eyes, on his forehead, on his smile lines that are new. He's even accrued a collection of freckles on the ridge of his nose; somehow, he thinks the warmer weather in Marley is responsible for that. 

In some strange ways, with every new year Levi ages, he thinks he looks more and more like Kenny, minus the facial hair. That son-of-a-bitch got his way with him after all, it seems, and despite this, Levi suspects Kenny would still call him a runt if he were here standing next to him right now.

"Still can't grow facial hair, huh, kid?" Kenny would say. "And you're still just as short."  

Yeah, that sounds like Kenny alright. 

"Hey, 'Vi?” A shy knock makes Levi turn his head towards the door. “I forgot to give you the balm I made for your cut. Do you want it now?"

"Gimme a moment," he mumbles. "... I'll be right there."

Levi finishes his routine. He shaves his face and massages his leg. He changes into indoor clothes. 

By the time Levi’s done, he finds you sitting on the sofa, flipping through one of your books while stroking Scout. It seems you've already started the preparations for dinner; there's simmering onion soup that's replaced the previous smell of herbs over the stove.

This time, upon hearing him approach, both you and Scout look up, almost synchronically. It makes Levi's heart a little warm—why does it feel so strange to have an audience waiting for him? 

Before Levi can contemplate on this very question, you've swung to your feet. "Here, sit down; I’ll get the balm."

Levi does as he's told, taking a seat on the free spot—on the other side of the sofa, next to Scout. His peripheral catches you first washing your hands over the kitchen sink, then retrieving something from the ice-box. 

Scout's purr pulls him back to the sofa. The kitten has made her presence known, demanding attention from Levi, and Levi obliges her. He scratches her under her chin like he always does, using his unwounded hand to do so.

Soon, the cat's purr vibrates against his fingertips. 

"She misses you, you know." Levi glances over your shoulders. You're standing on his other side, bending down. "May I?" you ask, looking at his palm laid flat on the arms of the sofa.

Levi nods.

Carefully, you take his hand into your own, flipping it to remove the bandage and analyze the cut. The wound runs across the tender flesh of his palm, ending with his index. It's not a deep cut by any stretch of the imagination, but it is on his five-fingered hand. Just his luck. 

“Did you know that Scout sometimes goes into your bedroom, meowing into the void?" you say in passing, eyes focused on his wound. "It's like she's looking for your ghost or something.”

"That cat needs to get used to me being absent." 

"She's just attached to you. Can you blame her?"

Levi's throat goes thick. No, he supposes he can't blame Scout, not when he's felt that same emptiness himself before, knows how damaging it can be.

"Anyway, I hope she grows used to me being here, too. For now, she still refuses to enter my room when it's just the two of us, but I think we may bridge that gap soon." Your voice turns into a coarse whisper, leaning closer to Levi like Scout might somehow overhear—and understand you. "I may or may not have bribed her with some leftover tuna."

"You mean you’re spoiling her."

"Hey, all's fair in love and war." You lean back. A knowing smile tugs at your lip, delicate like the first bloom of spring. "Besides, there are worse things for a cat to be."

After that, you focus on tending to Levi's wound—disinfecting it, adding balm, wrapping a clean bandage by the careful press of your hands. It brings Levi back to the old days, when he'd watch you either tend to him or his comrades. There was always this intensity, this non-bullshit attitude, that would always wash over you. It made Levi aware just how seriously you took your job, how dedicated you were to your craft. It was one of the first things that made him respect you.

Now, as Levi watches you at it again, there is something else, too. Something that speaks volumes of just how touch-starved he's become. He tries to ignore the warmth that blooms under your touch, tries not to think about how long it’s been since anyone that wasn’t his doctor touched him like this.

He fails.

It might be why, when at last you seem satisfied with your work and rise to your feet, Levi finds himself doing the same. He stands, moving with no objective in sight, the scent of herbs and home and you beckoning him closer. 

As he does, he ends in your personal space, his fingers almost grazing yours. 

He freezes. 

You seem just as surprised to find him in your space. Levi watches as your lips subtly part, the smallest shift in your expression that narrows into your eyes widening. He listens to your breath catch; it makes the tip of his fingers tingle.

"Um... Levi?" 

Levi blinks, panic swelling in his chest, but before he can say a thing, a sudden "mrrrp" vibrates below. What happens next is a blur, but Scout has somehow jumped off the sofa, intertwining herself between you and him, and the sudden feeling of fur on your bare legs must have taken you by surprise.

Because the next moment, you’ve bumped the back of your calves against the edge of the sofa, almost tripping back. 

Luckily, if there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's Levi's instincts. He instantly latches onto your elbow, steadying you, your warmth blooming beneath his grasp. 

“Walls,” your voice vibrates against the shell of his ear, breathless. "... Thanks." 

You straighten, taking a subtle shift back. Levi finally lets go, clears his throat, and moves away. He flexes his hand, trying to rid himself of the tickling sensation he'd just felt. 

"It's nothing." He focuses on Scout, who's skittered away and in between the dining chairs, looking at you and Levi with wide eyes. Levi exhales harshly as he stares at her. "Tch, have a care, you damn cat. We're practically titan-sized to you; don’t creep around like that unless you want to end trampled on."

The rest of the evening is uneventful. Like every other evening since you moved in, you and Levi share a meal, seated at the dining table, facing the window with a viewpoint on the sea. You share tidbits of information you've learned about the village and its inhabitants, while Levi provides scarce comments here and there. You discuss Gabi and Falco’s upcoming visit for the solstice, and everything you plan to do with them.

Everything is just as Levi remembers it being. The setting is different, there are people missing… but there is something soothing that he is here now, with you, with scents that don't feel foreign, with foods that feel familiar. 

One thing does loom over Levi's mind, though.

Levi swears you drew closer when he stood.

.

.

.

One night, you fall asleep in front of the fireplace.

Come morning, Levi's gone, but there's a blanket draped over your body.

.

.

.

That night, Levi can't sleep. That in itself isn't shocking; Levi's always been a chronic insomniac. Still, when the telltale signs of a sleepless night make themselves known and Levi realizes he's in for one of those nights, he doesn't waste time. He gets up and goes to make himself a fresh cup of valerian root tea.

Half-way there, however, something stops him in his tracks.

It's your the door to your bedroom, half-ajar, warm light pooling out.

And Levi sees you.

You're on the floor, crouched over something. Next to you, it seems that your bribing paid off; Scout is by your side, staring at you with keen interest, tilting her head as she looks at your every movement. 

That's when Levi notices what you're doing, what you're twirling around one by one, as if to show the cat.

Your drawing materials, his gift to you. You've taken them out of the desk he built, laying them all on the floor to inspect them.

Pencils, an eraser, a notebook.

Huh.

-

Thanks for reading! This is a slow build into feelings and healing, but I hope the journey will be worth the read. If you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments/tags. Take care <3

[childotkw]

okay but imagine the grindelwald! harry au mixed with that ybtm(ibty) au where it's actually harry that goes to nathan's world. i would assume that dumbledore wouldn't allow those rumors to spread if harry came to him first, but if harry had built up a reputation beforehand... it's technically not allowed/ taboo to discuss the rumor (not like the school can place a ban on it), but the whole student body knows it by the time harry is there and assisting dumbledore. dumbledore can't even claim harry as his son or relative at this point because it would just end in even more disaster. harry is super adverse to the rumor but his refusal just kinda stokes the flames higher and at this point even grindelwald is aware that his supposed son is hanging out with dumbledore at hogwarts. and wouldn't that be rejection of the highest order again? or perhaps he wouldn't really even believe the rumor but that power that harry effortlessly wields, that's something to see. i feel like nathan would believe harry when he said that he wasn't grindelwald's son, but orion would do the real plotting when he connects nathan's attackers to grindelwald, like, the amount of drama orion lives for is RIGHT THERE orion would prob be disappointed when he doesn't see results tho lol, but he has plenty of other entertainment. like harry and his everything. and tom too, but he sees tom more than harry, and tom likes to hide everything, so. anyways this idea has consumed me so i'm sorry about the word vomit lmao your aus are very plot-bunny inducing

A spin off of Dark Side of the Moon where Harry side-stepped Dumbledore and Hogwarts completely, and became some vigilante-esque figure in the Wizarding underworld because his saving people thing was alive and well even if he's a grumpy boy.

His actions - stepping in and defending others regardless of status or species, breaking up the more destructive and illegal rings in Knockturn and making things a little safer for those living there, dodging the aurors with all the skill of a career criminal, etc. - drew attention.

Because of course they did.

And people loved to gossip about him.

Because of course they did.

Harry was focussed on trying to get home (he has yet to chat with Death), and unintentionally kicked off some of those rumours himself. Rumours that, for some reason, had people thinking he was Grindelwald’s son?

(It was absolutely because of the Deathly Hallows tattoo on his hip - don’t ask how it got there, don’t ask how the group of hags spotted it, Harry purged that memory from his brain, it did not happen).

Anyway.

Harry was strolling around Knockturn on Halloween and stepped in to chase off the men attacking Nathan, safely whisked the boy back to his family and let them know that Grindelwald’s men were on the prowl. Benedict took that warning seriously, and Cynthia proposed Harry stop by one afternoon for tea as a thank you.

And one gossipy vampire who witnessed Harry curb-stomp Grindelwald’s men spread the word that the Dark Lord’s apparent son was ‘on the outs’ with his father because why else would he attack a group of Acolytes unless there was trouble in paradise?

Long, long story short - Harry eventually ended up at Hogwarts as some weird teacher assistant / in protective custody / a God (people are too scared to ask at this point). He just chilled in the school, occasionally disappearing without a word to dismantle an illegal poaching organisation or bulldoze through some of Grindelwald’s men.

It was only after a few months that Harry even heard the rumour that people think he’s Grindelwald’s disgruntled, long-lost son. He tried denying it at first but by this point the rumour is so pervasive and wide-spread that he couldn’t change it. So Harry just rolled with it.

“Why yes, I am Gellert’s son. Yes, I think his political agenda is stupid. No, he’s not all powerful, he’s actually a moron and I’m going to break his nose when I next see him.”

People are lowkey terrified. Nathan has his pseudo-older brother who is training him to be a badass. Orion is frothing at the mouth and Tom is vibrating at a frequency that could propel himself into the sun.

Gellert just wants to know why anyone would look at him and think he’d ever sleep with a woman. Then he claims the magically-powerful-possible-god-man-thing as his son because why not?

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A06

L4mps Main story Translation

Title: Cafe369’s New Flavored Bun

Characters: Toi, Daniel, Netaro, Nagi

Summary: To find the fated person who would lead him to his brother, Toi guides the protagonist to the local meatbun shop. But as they were about to enter, strange noises echo throughout the premises… 

JP Proofreading: aca @463ce6 and tsukimi @rurumiiii on twt EN Proofreading: jes @arcanecrayonn and tsukimi @rurumiiii on twt

Also big thanks to you three for helping me with Netaro speech!

Location: A Town in HAMA

Toi: Ani-sama… please be safe, wherever you are… I’ll bring you back soon… 

Momiji: He’s been praying this whole time we were walking… I can tell he loves his brother very much.

Momiji: 5 minutes to 11 pm… 

Momiji: Toi-kun, how’s it going? It’s almost 11 pm, do you think we can make it in time?

Toi: It’s ok, we’re almost– Ah!

Toi: That’s the place! I’m sure of it!

Location: Cafe369

Momiji: Wait, this is Cafe369… 

Daniel: You been here before?

Momiji: I’ve dined here once, with Akuta-kun. It’s advertised as a meat bun shop, but there are  quite the unusual variety of buns sold here, including fillings other than meat… All of which are equally delicious.

Toi: Wow, it’s wonderful to see fate already at work again!

Daniel: I’m glad yer getting along with those kids but– Was this meatbun place always here?

Toi: Eh?

Momiji: What are you talking about? This place has been around for a long time. Right, Toi-kun?

Toi: Even though I’ve never gone in before, I do remember passing by it often… But, when did they first open…? 

Momiji: Now that I think about it, I’m not sure either… 

Daniel: I swear this was just an empty lot until recently though… 

Momiji: But… it’s right there.

Toi: Right?

Daniel: … Well, whatever. Can’t say much when it’s right in front of us. Maybe I’m just rememberin’ it wrong.

Daniel: …Hm?

Daniel: That’s… You two go on ahead.

Momiji: Daniel-san? Where are you–

Momiji: Aaaand he’s gone… Well, I guess the two of us can go in first. Though, considering how late it is, the shop might be closed already… 

Toi: That’s true… 

Toi: Ah, there’s a notice put up on the entrance.

Momiji: “Temporarily closed for ingredient procurement”...? No way–

*loud explosive noises*

Momiji: Woah!?

Toi: *startled gasp*

Momiji: Ah, did it stop…?

Momiji: What was that just now? So loud too… 

Toi: It came from inside the cafe! Maybe someone’s in trouble…!

Momiji: That may be so, but…  

Momiji: We don’t know what went down in there, so I don’t think heading in without Daniel-san would be a good idea… 

Momiji: Toi-kun, you should wait here–

???: Boo!

Pet Robot: Bwoo!

Momiji: AAAHHHHHHH!!! 

Toi: AAAHHHHHHH!!

???: WOOOAHH!

Toi: Eek…!

???: Ahaha~ Did I frighten you?

Momiji: H-huh? This person is… 

~~~(flashback)

???: Hrmm… Indeed, I do catch a whiff of it around here but…

Momiji: …..

???: You, human.

???: Tell me, would you know where my missing item might have wandered off to?

~~~(end flashback)

Momiji: Ah! You were the person who came by HAMA house the other day!!

???: Hm?

???: Oh~ You’re from that place where that green-pea canine resides. 

Momiji: Yes, I remember you saying you were in the mood for some green peas… So you’re the owner of this cafe? 

Toi: Um, do you know this person?

Momiji: I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that… We did have a chat in passing a while ago. 

Toi: … Is that your pet robot next to you? Good evening, little one.

Laika: La~ i~ ka~

Momiji: So your name’s Laika! It’s nice to meet you.

Cafe Owner?: More importantly, do you have time to spare right now? I’m in a bit of a pickle, you see~

Momiji: In a... pickle?

Cafe Owner?: I simply do not have enough hands to get the job done right now… At this rate, perhaps it would be better if I just have this entire place go up in flames… 

Momiji: Huh!? That’s more than just a “bit” of a pickle!

Toi: We’ll help you however we can! I’m sure that’s the reason we were guided here! 

Cafe Owner?: Ooh~ How wonderfully helpful indeed! 

~~~

Location: Inside Cafe369

Momiji: Woah, I can barely see in here… 

Momiji: Toi-kun, are you alright? Maybe it’d be better if you just wait outside… 

Toi: I feel terribly lonely and afraid without Ani-sama but… I can’t just stand back when I know this path will lead me to him! 

Cafe Owner?: Shh–! Hush now! Lower your volume, lest we be overheard by the pesky trespasser!

Momiji: An intruder!? Are you sure it’s not just a customer or an employee who got lost…? 

Cafe Owner?: Indeed.

Toi: Oh no…!

Cafe Owner?: This is a tale of what unfolded this very evening, when I was about to take a respite… I had been in the middle of picking my brain, pondering what new ingredient I could possibly stuff into my meat buns, when suddenly, my sixth sense went zing! and… EUREKA!

Cafe Owner?: It drew my attention to the fact that there was a suspicious individual inside the building, watching me…!

Toi: Eek… 

Cafe Owner?: I could sense their gaze drilling into me…  And so, I took a big gulp, steadied my beating heart… and BAM! I turned right around to face them!

Cafe Owner?: But alas, their presence had already faded away like mist… I’m certain the fellow is still lurking somewhere, within these walls… 

Laika: Lurker.

Momiji: … I really, really hope he’s not talking about a cockr*ach… 

Toi: What do we do if they’re a bad person… I’m not really strong so… 

Cafe Owner?: This particular individual is adorned with wings, sips the sweet nectar from blossoms, scatters pollen across the lands, and wields a deadly stinger….

Momiji: Wait… 

Toi: That’s… 

Laika: Bzzz… 

Toi: A bumblebee?

Cafe Owner?: Indeed, you got it right.

Toi: Yay!

Momiji: So all those explosions we heard were from when you were trying to… deal with the bees?

Cafe Owner?: Ehehe~ I simply had to have my hands on them, so I made a little bit of a mess, you could say. Back home, we don’t have these critters–

Cafe Owner?: Bees… Insecta class: Hymenoptera. This order includes both bees and ants, and as implied by the etymology, they are classified by their transparent but membranous forewings and hindwings.

Cafe Owner?: All hymenoptera are capable of undergoing complete metamorphosis. While ants are not as widely recognized as being part of the order, the others are generally considered so.

Cafe Owner?: These include Siricidae, Tenthredinidae, Pamphiliidae, Cimbicidae, Argidae, Orussidae, Evanioidea, Ichneumonoidea, and much more… 

Cafe Owner?: Such variety~ It certainly follows that there even exist cultures that consume insects! I must also mention, they are explosively nutritious as well!

Cafe Owner?: And so~  As you may have put two and two together, I had set up various, perhaps potentially dangerous, contraptions to ensnare some of these critters so that I may procure some fresh ingredients. This is all for the sake of experimenting with new flavors for my buns, you see!

So here, catch this!

Momiji: Woah, hey…!

Momiji: This is… a fishing reel…?

Cafe Owner?: It would be unwise to space out at this time, lest you commit a blunder.  Make sure to hold it properly!

Momiji: Sorry, that was an… extraordinary amount of information you just dumped on us. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed for a moment there… 

Toi: You must be an expert on bumblebees!

Cafe Owner?: Ho ho ho!

Momiji: So, what am I supposed to do with this reel?

Cafe Owner?: You must reel it in at my signal. In the event the pest escapes the trap, I must give chase immediately. So, you will have to spin the reel in my stead!

Momiji: O-okay, got it… Well, I didn’t get it at all but if this helps you, then I’ll do it.

Toi: Please give it your best pull!

Momiji: I’ll give it my all.

Cafe Owner?: …..

Toi: ….. 

Momiji: ….. 

???: Um–

Cafe Owner?: NOW—!!!

Momiji: Got it!!!

Momiji: This is some heavy reel…! Since it’s so sturdy, it should be alright even when pulling in a heavy load…!

Momiji: The grip on this handle is good, and the line seems pretty strong! There’s little drag too– I’m sure we can haul in a big one!

Toi: Wow! You sound just like a professional fisherman! 

Momiji: Ahaha…! All of that info was drilled into me… by a friend of mine… named Kafka…! 

Momiji: C’mon!

Momiji: We’re… bringing… you… home…!

Momiji: *grunts*

Momiji: Got it…! 

Cafe Owner?: Huzzah!

Toi: Wow, that’s a big bumblebee… (?)

Momiji: Huh…?

Momiji: That’s… a human, right?

Cafe Owner?: Bumbling humans are acceptable ingredients as well!

Momiji: What!?

Daniel: Yo! I’m pretty sure the SR parked outside is the bike that fella had–

Nagi: …..

Daniel: What, found him already?

Momiji: Daniel-san… Please help me get him down…!

Notes:

Netaro’s Bug Report: Siricidae | Tenthredinidae | Pamphiliidae | Cimbicidae | Argidae | Orussidae | Evanioidea | Ichneumonoidea Also in the original Japanese, I believe they either typo’d the bug family names of Argidae (In script: ミツフシハバチ科, Correct name: ミフシハバチ科) and Orussidae (In script: ヤドリギキバチ科, Correct name: ヤドリキバチ科) or they are somehow two new bug families in the future.  The pdf I referred to is the Hymenoptera classification by Hirohiko Nagase

Green-pea canine is what Netaro calls Shuumai.

The Hachi Pun: Netaro wants to capture a bee(ハチ hachi in Japanese) to test them out as a new flavor for his buns, so he set a trap. But in the end it was actually Nagi (whose last name is Hachinoya) who was caught in the trap. 

Nagi’s bike is the Yamaha SR400, or at least a futuristic bike modeled after one.

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Masterlist

[eating-plastic]

Headcanons: Maison Talo Being Protective Over His S/O

A/N: Yay, my first x reader thingy! Also, don’t get it twisted, just because I have never reblogged  anything about Scopophobia Studios on my blog doesn’t mean I don’t like their stuff. Anyhoo, this is for the few House House lovers out there. Enjoy!

🏠-There are two things that Maison Talo is certain about

🏠-1.) He loves you and cares about you dearly

🏠-2.) The Uncanny Valley has its fair share of dangers (I mean, he should know, he is one of them) 

🏠- He often recommends joining you for walks whether you are going to work, shopping, or just need some fresh air. He says that it is just him wanting to spend time with you and scope out some “food” for himself

🏠-This is only partially true. Don’t get me wrong, he loves spending time with you and he is always on the lookout for some poor soul that made the mistake of moving to the Uncanny Valley, but his true motivations are to make sure some weirdo doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable or harass you. Besides, you and him both know that the bus stops on the edges of the Valley are where he’ll find his “food”, and you barely trek towards the Valley’s edges

🏠-Of course, if you find his presence to be overbearing and want some time to yourself, he’ll hesitantly respect your wishes

🏠-I haven’t even mentioned how he gets when it comes to the threats that he is definitely sure of: Other realtors

  🏠-When he brings this up to you, you are both surprised and not at the same time. I mean, now that you think about it, it makes sense that there would be other “beings” like Maison. At the same time, though, it never popped into your mind (perhaps your brain just doesn’t want to think about potential dangers)

🏠-Maison warns you about how they look and are going to act towards you. Well dressed, sleazy, manipulative, pushy (all things he was towards you when you both first met lol)

🏠-If you are bothered by any other realtor, he wants you to describe them to him. He’ll quickly know who you are talking about and is more than happy to have a little “chat” (read threat) with them about leaving you alone

🏠-While realtors don’t drag their “food” to their house forms by force (i.e. kidnapping), some interactions can leave you a bit shaken up. Especially if you are a more timid person

🏠-If you ever have an encounter that leaves you very shaken, well, don’t be surprised if you see a news story about a “for sale” house on the news that’s gone up in flames on TV

🏠-While you’re watching the news, he’ll glance over to the TV when the story pops up and smile

🏠-”Oh dear, what a shame,” he’ll say before quickly looking away, as the sight of burning houses makes him feel queasy 

🏠-Maison will also find himself getting accustomed to other realtors mocking him 

🏠-”Did you hear? The old man has gone soft.”

🏠-”All of this fuss over a morsel of food.”

 🏠-”That piece of meat’s got him all loopy. He’ll starve.”

🏠-”Shame what happened to Talo. Falling down the food chain like that.”

🏠-He couldn’t care less, though. He hasn’t starved yet and he’s the happiest he’s ever been. And why wouldn’t he? You accept him, you trust him, and you love him. He can’t remember feeling this way towards anyone. Has he ever loved anyone as he does you, before? He isn’t sure

🏠-There is one thing that Maison Talo is certain of: He loves you, his dearest tenant  

[explainslowly]

Get your transfem Dean season 10 au here!! Get yourself a girl who has so many problems!!

This started by me kicking around a little idea in a chat with @autisticandroids - what if Demon Dean just started taking estrogen? Like where would that lead...

The other idea behind these fics was to write short episode reactions, see how much stuff I could fit into something only a few hundreds words long... and to make pushing through season 10 less of a slog...

The series can be found here (I definitely want to continue through season 11 and perhaps longer, I've just been busy with other stuff):

Links to each story with excerpts under the cut:

Even animals suffer - demon Dean in her own words

The number one unpleasant discovery I have made in my time here, is how much of a bleeding sentimental heart Crowley has. It’s pathetic.

Now the guys that stare in bars, those are a different story.

They lead and I follow, behind the building or into their trucks and I bend over easy, let them take me rough, smelling the sweet smell of rotting garbage in damp hot weather. They like to lean on me hard and grab a boob harder, an endless parade of older guys whose failing livers you can smell on their breaths. The pain is sweet.

I don’t need no rising moon - Dean puts himself back together

He examines his naked chest - he wonders what happens next? It’s not like he did much research as a demon - he was just eyeballing the amounts. Maybe the fat will just… reabsorb itself or something. He grabs the small mounds of protruding flesh - the sight of his large hands engulfing them completely gives him a sense of vertigo, or like he’s looking down from a great height, so he closes his eyes and just concentrates on the sensation. They lack the heft of a larger cup, the satisfying weight, but it feels so soothing to hold them nevertheless.

About a girl - Dean has a little thought experiment

It’s kind of funny - Dean forgot how he used to look. That he shot up tall before he got broad, was lanky in a funny way, like an unfinished human. And doe-eyed and soft featured… it makes his mind go in all the wrong directions. Makes him think about possibilities, before testosterone takes hold - a body that hasn’t become yet and is sort of shapeless in a way that makes his head spin.

It’s just idle daydreams.

Lana del Rey croons on the radio and Dean indulges, really gives himself permission to think about it.

What do teen girls even look like these days? He’s out of the loop on it all… Probably something like... thick eyeliner? Lot of makeup… awkwardly applied, but that’s ok. It wouldn’t look out of place on a fifteen year old. That kind of clumsiness is all within reason at that age. You get space to find yourself, that's kind of what being a teen is about, he thinks.

Dirge - a little Drowley interlude

Crowley lays his palms on Dean’s ribcage, framing his chest.

“Hello ladies.”

The embarrassment burns Deam up - he feels his face flame red. “Fucking hell, Crowley…”

“Just getting reacquainted,” Crowley sounds amused, but he doesn’t keep his distance long, dives in, licking Dean’s breast, the beard scratching at sensitive skin, sending electricity down his spine. Crowley is thumping at the nipple not in his mouth and his other hand is unbuttoning Dean’s jeans.

[so-mordor-itis]

Just When You Thought You Knew Everything

@comatosebunny09 ;) I'm really proud of this one, and honestly, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. (I was the anon that suggested the loneliness of Leon.)

zero

There were days when he wasn’t plagued by the terrors of Raccoon City. Days–moreso nights–where his brain cracked open the deeper ends of his consciousness and forced him to remember further back. When he was 8, watching flames bite against the wooden walls of the building he once called home. When his 8-year-old brain thought it was possible to dwindle the fire just by staring at it long enough. Leon remembered then how someone in his family, not sure who, used to comment on his eyes. That they were so blue they could swallow sparks and then proceed to remark they were definitely inherited by his father. (So kind, he thought bitterly, to be told something that belonged to you was really something that actually was someone else’s and now you’re just borrowing it.) Leon’s 8-year-old self held on to that comment, hoping desperately that it was true; that he wasn’t being fed another lie for dinner even if somehow at that age, he knew it was. 

Leon realized his life was unique by the time he was 7. Stuck with another mediocre tv-dinner (though he liked those at the time), he remembered watching his father, drenched from abdomen to ankle in red, trip over himself, heaving. His father looked up, ocean blue piercing ocean blue, before walking back outside to probably continue whatever charade he found himself in. At 7, he wondered if other kids his age also had fathers who would do mysterious things. Fathers who barely spoke to them, only fussing at whatever their mother cooked, grumbling about newspaper articles, and yelling at the phone. Fathers who would look at them, just stare for what felt like hours, only to sigh and protest they never clean their room. Leon wondered if their dads also looked exactly like them but older. 

He hated the dreams that slapped him in the face with unwanted nostalgia almost as much as the ones that groaned in his ears, smelled of iron and rot, and stung his eyes with the memory of smoke from cars on the verge of exploding. 

At least the unwanted nostalgia never left him feeling as if he was a cadaver on the side of the road, organs made of jelly, bones crushed. 

Though, Leon had to ask himself, which was worse: being reminded that he was human or having the bits of the soul he once had sucked out, leaving an empty socket. 

one

You were a new, riveting surprise. 

Ingrid Hunnigan, a fellow agent and communications specialist, had been transferred to a new office building temporarily, allowing someone new to slip into her role and provide him with information and, if needed, support. (“Going on vacation this early, Hunnigan?” Leon had thought to himself in a jest.) You were her replacement, according to Simmons. However, that word didn’t sit right on Leon’s tongue. Replacement indicated Ingrid was now gone and had completely vanished from sight. As far as Leon was concerned, she was none of those. 

He greeted you with neutral respect, holding back the urge to create a snippy comment. He wasn’t aware of how greatly you’d treat his quips or if you’d appreciate them at all. It surprised him when you shook his hand, eyebrow raised as if he had already said something stupid. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Kennedy. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You said in a friendly manner. He couldn’t help the curiosity that was bubbling in him. People talked about him around the office? 

“Oh yeah?” He crossed his arms, offering you a chance to tell him more. “Enlighten me.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “Mm, I don’t know if Ingrid would be too happy with me if I told you.” His expression was so amusing: he was attempting to act smug as if he knew people were chatting behind his back about his achievements or failures. However, as you regarded his form, you knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps in the very back of his mind, he glazed over the idea, but once the information was relayed to him, he froze. 

“Before you ask,” you watched his mouth open only to snap shut. “Ingrid and I are friends.” 

Leon sighed. “So this is how it’s going to be.” 

You sat in Ingrid’s chair, giving it a feel. “Oh come on now, don’t say that as if you already can’t stand me.”

It was the opposite, actually. He was already starting to like your attitude, but naturally, he couldn’t let you find that out just yet. Leon needed to grasp that feeling of satisfaction before you welcomed its embrace. 

“I could already hate you, and you wouldn’t even know it.” He remarked, lifting his hand lightly to mitigate his point. 

“Well, damn, shoot me now.” 

two

It honestly startled him how fast you adapted to his behavior. Maybe Hunnigan had given you a lecture on him, Leon S. Kennedy 101: How To Deal With His Bullshit. Your first-ever assignment as partners went smoothly. He was to retrieve data on illegal B.O.W transports, observing for any kind of suspicious activity in the vicinity of Manhattan. You made a joke about New York and how the food wasn’t even that good for those prices. He snorted, giving you some credit for your originality, half tempted to ask how you knew before he spotted something. He gave you a short, to-the-point comment on what his next actions were.

You replied. “Don’t die when it’s my first day on the job, alright?”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Already thinking about the paycheck? That’s kinda fast.”

“How else am I gonna pay rent this month?” 

“Side job?”

“Don’t start.”

The next few months, he allowed himself to grow more amused with your antics, with your banter. You were funny. He had to admit it. Chatty, even. It impressed him how often you knew how to reply, firing comments of your own as if you were always loaded with something. 

You grew to be familiar. A calm voice that he didn’t know he could’ve used at that moment in time. 

Then you grew to be more than just a voice. A person who he missed when your shift ended, and he was alone at his desk, messy papers the only thing giving him company. A person he gravitated towards when he immediately saw your figure. Be it a gathering, a meeting, or simply seeing you during lunch, he found himself by your side. 

Leon liked it. He liked having this. He knew the word for it was friendship. You two acted as if you had been friends for years even though it was the complete opposite. You clicked so easily. 

That's what scared him the most. It petrified him down to his very core that this wasn't even the closest you could get to him. There were still more forks in the road, more paths you could take. A part of him froze at the idea of you pausing in front of the box of horrors he's encountered, opening it, only to be drowned by him, by his essence. As if he was Pandora's Box, and you would perish. 

Those burdens were almost impossible for him to carry. How would you react to what he saw in Raccoon? 

Leon glared into his bottle of whiskey as his thoughts rolled around like boulders in his head. He took a sip, allowing the alcohol to sting his throat. 

Had it really taken him this long to realize you were this precious to him? 

two and a half 

He dreamt about his mother and father that night, and it made him wonder if fate truly had it out for him. 

three

Leon's worst fears came to light when his fingers accidentally brushed against yours, igniting an inner feeling he recognized immediately. While you hadn't really reacted–maybe bashfully glanced down–it hit him fast and hard like a brick falling from the sky. He wouldn't mind holding your hand. He wouldn't mind doing a lot of things with you. Because it was you and you made him experience joy. Genuine joy. Something he thought would be nearly impossible for him to feel again. 

Maybe that’s why he’s scared. He truly can’t imagine doing anything without the ghost of you being there. How funny, what a human can do to another, how easily one could slip into his life, creating an asteroid-sized crater in his chest. 

However, despite that never-ending pit of fear, he remained the same on the outside. A contrast to what happened in his head. At least, he thought he continued to keep up the tough, stoic expression he managed to have all the time. 

You two were having a normal exchange. Talked about each other’s days, about upcoming missions packed into your schedules, and what you were having for dinner later (he almost asked you if he could join but stopped himself). But then, the atmosphere changed and suddenly you held a look of uneasiness. Now he was concerned. 

“Everything okay?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” 

Leon crossed his arms, his usual stance. “Nothing’s up besides the files we’ve been reading. Nasty shit, though I guess I can say I’ve seen worse.” He had. 

“No, not that.” You mimicked him, now crossing your own arms. He half wondered if you were doing it partly to mock him, but with how serious your tone was, that probably wasn’t the case. “You’ve been uneasy. As if you want to tell me something but you can’t.”

Come on. You can’t possibly read him that easily. “Nah.” He brushed your concern off, but he hated himself for it. For the way your face dropped. Of course, there were more things he could tell you, to plop in your lap, hoping you understood where he was coming from. “You’re cute for being concerned though.” Maybe that will turn your curious nose away for now.

“I’m cute?” You look baffled. “That’s a new one.” He could tell from the way you scoffed, turning your head to look anywhere else but at him, that got you. 

“I’m full of surprises.” 

“More like full of shit.” 

“Ouch.” 

“Still, back to what I was saying, I’m here to listen. I think you know that by now. I mean, I got wine at my place with your name on it.” 

Leon wrinkled his nose. He was never a wine guy, scotch was ragged and spiky when it went down his throat and he preferred that. “Inviting me over?”

“If you need it.” 

He almost took it. Almost. 

“Maybe some other time.” 

four

He caved when you asked again a few weeks later when he severely needed some form of alcohol after what he had been dragged into. 

You poured him a glass of wine, and he watched as red covered the glossy inside to almost full. “Thanks.”

You smiled, and something burned within him, it glowed red, overflowing like how lava does when it’s spewed from a volcano. This was more than just friendship now, your every action caused him to feel something, whether it was burning or just warm. You were warm. 

The wine made him feel sluggish, and vulnerable. He was only on his third glass before his brain was less rigid, slowly turning into mush. 

“You okay?” You laughed a little. “You look like you’re about to be sick.” You glanced at the wine bottle with knitted brows, scanning over the label. “I hope this hasn’t expired.”

Leon waved his hand at you. “No, wine just hits me a little harder than scotch does.”

“Is that why you never drink it? Or do you just like scotch so much?”

“I just like scotch, probably an unhealthy amount.” He smiled a little, cheeks pink from the alcohol. “Never been a wine guy, but today’s special.”

“Our government is running you ragged, Lee.” 

“Tell me about it. The main guy at the white house seems to really favor me now.” 

“Have you ever gone on vacation?”

“Nope.” 

“You should. I highly recommend it.”

He chuckled. “I got on vacation, and then what? I’m called on the second day. Perks of being the golden boy.”

Leon realized that under the influence, he was better at small talk. The fog around his brain prevented him from overthinking, allowing him to share his thoughts and his ideas. For once, he felt no burdens weighing on his shoulders. The world seemed less dark. 

Until he slipped a comment about Raccoon. 

“I was there.” He accidentally said, shutting his mouth immediately as you raised your eyebrows. You blinked, licking your lips in thought.

“You never told me that.” 

Well, now he could no longer avoid it. His trauma, his old wounds that were constantly reopened, were now somewhat spilled on the floor. The probability of you simply letting this go was zero. Leon sighed heavily, placing his wine glass on your kitchen counter. “It wasn’t really brought up. Well, maybe it was, but…I guess I was nervous about scaring you off.” 

“Scaring me off?” You held a hand to your hip, looking at him as if he was stupid, and suddenly he was whisked back to when you two first met, and you had given him that exact same look. “You know what we do for a living? The wine didn’t make you forget right?”

“Not in that sense,” Leon felt weird telling you this. Oddly confident. It was the wine–did he really only have three glasses? 

“Oh.” You got the hint almost immediately. He knew you would. He was searching your expression now, but he couldn’t read it. You were thinking, your forehead wrinkling. It was cute, downright adorable. 

He didn’t want to scare you off, because this was more than just friendship to him. 

“Didn’t think you were interested in me in that way.” You huffed. You bit the inside of your cheek, still thinking. You approached him, placing yourself in the seat next to him, the air now so warm it was hard to breathe. “Well, you can tell me about Raccoon City. You can tell me anything. Show me your scars, and I’ll show you mine.” You said it so sincerely, he had to be inclined to believe you. 

It was silly, how scared he was about his. He told you everything, and somehow later that night it led to you holding him close to your chest, fingers in his hair, heartbeat in his ear. 

A night so beautiful he actually cried. 

He thought back to the night when his childhood home burned. The night he willed the fire to diminish into smoke with just his eyes. 

You aren't alone anymore, kid. He thought, still feeling your fingers threading through his hair, through the darker roots. Not anymore. 

-

Tags:

@uhlunaro , @seraphiism , @izuniias , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @mandalhoerian , @leonskillshot , @airanke , @tosuckmyweenis , @madeholyy , @toseetheworldinaworkofart , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @universal-imagines , @some-insomniac-writes , @i-can-sabotage-me-bi-myself , @muffimtv , @justonemore-fic

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 6

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger" Warnings lol: blood and violence <3

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

chapter 6: the masquerade

Was going through her sister’s phone unethical? Sure. Was this whole thing a huge fucking risk she shouldn’t be taking? Certainly. Was she doing it anyway?

Hell, yes, she was.

After going their separate ways, Osha turned over the half-promise she’d given the stranger two days ago. 

I’ll think about it.

It was a curse. Here, in the unforgiving clarity of Wednesday, she could think about nothing else. Training with someone who saw potential and value in her sounded better than heaven.

But he’d left her with no way to give him her answer. He told her he couldn’t risk stopping by the Temple as often as he had been. I am banned, you know.

That was how she justified this insanity. I have no way of getting through to him like normal, and Mae was the only person who regularly met with him. She’s the best bet for finding him. And besides, she’s been lying to me for two years; I deserve to be a little ethically questionable.

Even still, the air was thick with tension—but that could’ve just been steam from the shower.

None of the contacts she scrolled through looked like they fit the stranger. Would she even save his number in her phone? She checked the text threads next, her eyes entirely focused on the unsaved numbers. Perhaps resignation had her gliding past the threads with Sol, and the multiple group chats Mae was a part of—places where Osha didn’t belong.

She must have deleted his shit the second she cut ties with him.

Osha bit down hard on her lower lip to bury her frustration. Where else, where else…

NYAAAAA!

“Fucksake, Pip, don’t be a fucking narc,” she whispered, removing the kitten from the room and resuming her shady behavior.

Mae dropped a bottle in the shower, nearly sending Osha jumping out of the window in fright. It was a miracle she stayed quiet. She refocused, ignoring the slight tremble of her fingers. 

Oh shit, why didn’t she check there first?

She found the list of blocked numbers in Mae’s call records and, instead of screenshotting it and sending it to herself, took a picture of the screen with her phone. It was old school, but it left no trace.

One of these better be him.

Mae shut off the shower, and Osha quickly put her phone back where it had been and walked out of the room without looking back. She was jumpy through dinner, but since she and Mae still weren’t talking, she didn’t have to explain herself.

Afterward, she retreated to her room and performed a round of isometric poses to steady her nerves. It helped soothe the persistent ache in her leg immensely. The pleasant burn in her calf licked flames across where her ligaments usually felt brittle and iced over. Doing the exercises before bed was a double-edged sword: on one hand, she’d be warm and loose all night; on the other… it made her think of him.

The dreams left her feeling hotter than the exercises did.

What was it Mae said? You’re playing with fire? It certainly felt like it—but in this weather, she didn’t mind a bit of heat.

To temper her obsession a little, she gave herself only ten minutes to research each phone number from the photo. She quickly ruled out telemarketers, spam numbers, and various persons who wanted to contact Mae about her car’s extended warranty.

The last number on her list felt… different. It brought up zero results online, not even on a reverse number lookup. She’d been about to type it into her phone to send a probing text, but her ten minutes were up. She couldn’t get in over her head, lest the stranger consume too much of her life before she knew his name.

And what if this wasn’t even his number? She didn’t want to go to sleep disappointed if the gamble didn’t pan out. She saved the number in her phone as ? and tried not to think about it.

Everything seemed to have lost its shine on her next shift at the cafe. The coffee smelled stale, and she could not ignore her sticky hands like she used to. Every painful hour spent on her feet felt like an eternity. She needed something new.

She’d needed a lot of something new for a while now.

The silence between her and Mae continued at home. The next time family dinner rolled around, she excused herself. She only saw Sol and Mae at the Temple.

Even the classes Sol led felt off. Try as she might to put in maximum effort, she’d grown out of Sol’s tentative instruction. Her jabs landed harder on the heavy bags, some sounding like thunderclaps that split the empty air. Her legs itched to kick and thrash beneath her despite the backlash it would yield in the gym.

She even tried a few kicks on the bag in the apartment gym, which saw more of her the following week than in the last six months. What it didn’t see was the stranger.

The stranger had her fucked up. Big time.

She couldn’t rely on luck or coincidence when she wanted to see him anymore. Next time she got lucky, she promised herself, she would get his damn number at the very least.

“This is a shit idea,” Osha muttered to herself as she walked down the street. “You’re fucking nuts, Osha.”

She’d been so focused on watching out for black ice on the sidewalk that she didn’t see that the Unknown Planet neons were all off until she’d opened the front door halfway, finding nothing but pitch-black silence within.

Every light was off, save for one at the far wall from the door. Osha stepped back a little, letting the door fall shut. The operation hours stared back at her: moonrise to sunrise.

Under the perpetually overcast sky of winter, she couldn’t tell, but she was pretty sure it was a new moon. You can’t have a moonrise with no moon, she reasoned.

But then, why was the door still open?

Osha retrieved her can of bear spray from her backpack and flicked off the safety with her thumb. She entered the empty bar quietly, on cat-light feet. When the door closed behind her, the cacophony of the city changed to a stark, screeching silence. She didn’t dare move a muscle.

Her eyes acclimated to the darkness, her ears to the silence. Very faintly, she made out the sounds of raised voices, cheers, and jeers. She stayed alert as she crept around tables crowned with upturned chairs. She stopped to listen again when she reached the singular lit sconce at the end of the cavernous bar.

The noise had grown louder, but Osha could still hear the familiar ding-ding! of a match bell. Was there a boxing gym upstairs? Nobody at the Temple cheered that loud at the events hosted there.

A set of stairs she hadn’t seen a week ago led up to a steel door on a small landing. A tattooed and bored bouncer wasn’t looking down the staircase at her; instead, he was peering through the small window in the door, looking in on whatever was happening inside.

Osha pulled back into the darkness. What was she doing? She was in an unfamiliar area of the city, chasing down hope of seeing a guy whose name she didn’t know, and she had no way of knowing where her damned curiosity would take her. She thumbed off the safety on her bear spray but kept the tube tucked in her sleeve just in case.

The bouncer frowned as she walked up the stairs. Up close, she could see two matching cauliflower ears, a split lip, and neck tattoos—and explicit confirmation that he was built like a brick shithouse. Osha met his eyes anyway, saying nothing.

“You’re coming in pretty late, miss. Half the fights are already done.” His voice was as gravelly and deep as she imagined, but the politeness took her a little off guard.

She tried channeling Mae as she told a small lie. “I was told the wrong time.”

The bouncer looked her over with a more critical eye, grunting. “Well. Hope whoever told you gets their shit rocked tonight.”

He opened the door for her, and she was instantly hit with a wall of noise. Hot air, humid from effort and shouting, hit her next, followed by the scent of sweat—and a little bit of blood. She tugged her hood over her head as she walked in, embracing a bit of stifling heat in exchange for a concealed appearance. It was doubtful anybody here would recognize her, though.

Though the area was centrally lit to highlight the festivities, she could tell this wasn’t a boxing gym—a fighting gym, but not for any discipline she knew. What she thought were people standing on the wall turned out to be body-opponent bags lined up with military precision. All the equipment was set with evident respect and intentionality, not a thing out of place as far as she could tell.

And in the center of the room stood a cage.

She’d done some research into what he’d been talking about. She knew most MMA fights took place in a fenced-in open-air ring, but those rings never had a lid. The cage walls were pretty high, about twice the height of the average man. It seemed less like a fighting ring for humans and more like an inhumane, fucked-up snow globe full of violence.

Surrounding it was a crowd of around seventy-five people, bunched so close it almost seemed they were part of the platform. Three sets of bleachers held the rest of the observers, and a half-dozen more leaned on the rail of a balcony overlooking all at one end of the cavernous space.

Inside the cage, two men fought with wicked-looking spears—halberds, if she remembered correctly. The crack! of the shafts connecting jarred her from her drifting fugue, and Osha approached the crowd so she wouldn’t be seen as an outsider and garner unwanted attention.

Was this where the stranger trained and fought? It had to be—one of the fighters slashed the other across the chest in a small spray of blood. Instead of crying out or screaming, the injured competitor groaned in frustration over the sound of mixed cheering and grumbling. It was the single most confusing reaction to violence she’d ever seen.

She got closer despite her self-preservation screaming otherwise. The heady scent of spilled blood hung in the air like incense, and this brutal, lawless place suddenly felt more sacredly profane than anywhere else she’d ever been. This was no church or temple, but it was powerfully holy nonetheless. 

Osha found a place for herself in the stands.

As the previous fighters left the cage and melted away into the locker rooms, two more took their place. The announcer, a tall, pale man with spindly old-man arms, called their names like a pro wrestling emcee. Some matches had both fighters wielding weapons; others only had one weapon thrown in the middle to be fought over for advantage. Very few matches were unarmed, and when they were, it was indescribably brutal to see. The rules of engagement became clear in one of those bare-knuckle fights:

First blood wins the bout but doesn’t stop it—only the timer, submission, or unconsciousness did. Only one submission happened during the night, and when it had, the crowd was in an uproar, near-humiliating the poor soul who didn’t want his shoulder dislocated.

It seemed that for legal purposes, some holds were barred here.

She traded off between watching the fight and watching the audience, and she couldn’t tell who was more bloodthirsty.

After about an hour of fights, some unspoken signal rippled through the crowd. All at once, a hush fell over the entire space, reverent as a moment of benediction.

“For our final match,” the announcer called, “we have moved away from spears and swords to return to Pure! NHB! Fighting!” The crowd joined in his excitement, rattling the old aluminum seats beneath her. A quick glance at the balcony showed it empty. 

“—I’ve got eighty on White-Top tonight.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Smiley can’t win every time.”

Osha listened in on the conversation beside her, keeping her eyes on the announcer grandstanding at the center of the ring. He vamped while two expedient workers squeegeed off the blood from the floor mat.

“If you’re still betting on that, you’re welcome to lose your money. The thing place worth placing bets on is in the inner-ring particulars.”

“Like what?”

“—bring you eight of the finest fighters this gym has to offer! In one corner, the rookie in yellow—”

“—Who goes down first, who does Smiley take down first—”

“The Dizzykid!”

“—and how long it’ll take to put ‘em down.”

Mild applause started as a shirtless man bounced into the ring. He did a hopping lap before settling against one of the corners. Rookie confidence, Osha’s fighting mind said. The yellow balaclava he wore looked fucking nasty, half stained with old blood. The two gamblers beside her spoke in unison.

“He’s going down first.”

She probably shouldn’t have laughed. She’d done her best not to draw attention to herself for the last hour of fights, but at the unanimous and bored condemnation of the Dizzykid, she couldn’t help herself. Luckily, the gamblers didn’t seem to hear it; even if they did, they didn’t care.

The announcer spoke through the rest of the introductions, men and women fighting in one bout together. Most of the contenders were fresh to this competition, but many bore scars that must have come from previous fights like the ones she saw before.

They all had ridiculous names, too: Dizzykid, White-Top, and a handful of others she didn’t care remembering.

The final two were introduced as repeat champions from the month before. The penultimate fighter, who wore a purple hood, was called Daybreak. She looked well-sunken into her role in the ring, all quiet confidence and restrained power.

“Daybreak was one of our two-left-standing last month and will get to defend her name and title just like her final counterpart: your nine-month reigning champion here to make it ten, the undefeated, the terrifying, SMILEY!”

The eighth fighter walked into the cage, and it instantly felt like she’d gone into freefall. Distantly, as if underwater, she could hear the crowd going wild for him. The seven fighters in the ring were already honed to precision, each beautiful and strong, but this one was heart-stopping. She clung to one solid second of denial before accepting the truth of who those huge, beefy biceps belonged to—

That was her stranger in the mask.

He wore a black balaclava. Stitched in silver to make a horrifying toothy smile, Smiley’s moniker was straightforward.

God, she hoped Smiley wasn’t his real name.

“Welcome, gentlemen—welcome, ladies.” The announcer addressed them directly, shifting from entertainer to referee. Osha did not need to strain to hear him speak because the room had gone quiet as a crypt in respect and anticipation.

The rules were simple: 30 minutes on the clock, eliminations by knockout, submission, or heavy injury.

“When you hear this whistle—” he blew a whistle four times.  “You will grab the cage with both hands and stand still until we drag out the fallen. When you hear this bell—” Ding! “The fight resumes. If you make it to the final two, congrats. If you don’t, it’s not my problem. Now: Fighters!” He blew his whistle four times.

Sixteen hands found the fence.

The announcer left the ring.

The crowd’s excitement built.

And when the bell went off—

Chaos.

Four of the fresh fighters descended on the stranger, hunting the biggest game in the cage. Osha watched in awe as he leaped straight into the air and grabbed the top of the cage. Two of the fighters whiffed their punches beneath him, and he came down right on top of them.

There were probably other things happening in the cage, but she could only watch him.

Brash and eager, the Dizzykid went down first, knocked out by the kick to the face the stranger gave him. White-Top went down next. One of the gamblers beside her groaned. Osha grinned.

The stranger was a blur in the cage, all his punches and kicks coming too fast for her to track at times. When he paused, facing away from her, her breath stuck in her throat at the sight of the thick, purple-white scar tissue slicing across his back. It made more sense now: why he was so dedicated to injury recovery and proper form.

Wouldn’t you, if you had your back broken in four places?

Her chance at melancholic reverie passed as her stranger continued to put down his remaining opponents. The other two had gone after Daybreak—if she went down, they might make it to the cage next month.

The bubbling energy of the crowd was infectious, and Osha gave in to the temptation to get a little reckless, joining the cheers. “Let’s go, Smiley! Put ‘em the fuck down!”

The stranger froze mid-swing.

Fortunately for him, the ref blew his whistle four times right then, and the fight paused.

Unfortunately for her, the stranger stalked to the closest fence near Osha. He held onto it but pressed closer, forehead against the chain links. He’s looking for me. The other fighters faced inward, but not him, readying themselves for the fight ahead.

His eyes blazed with heat as he scanned the crowd. He was like a rabid animal, an overheated gun, a bloody, jagged edge digging deep wherever he wanted to cut. When he found her, she felt it in her bones. She raised a hand and gave a cheeky wave, smiling.

He tilted his head to the side before sticking his fingers through the fence, waving as much as possible.

The body haulers left the ring.

The cage door closed behind them.

The stranger was still not looking away—

Ding!

The stranger took less than fifteen seconds to put down the remaining rookies, leaving him and Daybreak standing. The crowd rippled with unease. Even Daybreak seemed baffled, staggering a few steps back from the sudden total violence.

The stranger returned to where he’d been standing fifteen seconds before, pressing his face fully against the fence like Osha was nothing but inches away from him.

The crowd around her was stunned. “How’d he do that so fast?”

“Smiley is just playing with his food whenever the fights go longer than five minutes, isn’t he?”

“I think his first fight lasted eight.”

“How long was this? I can’t see the—”

“Three minutes?! What the—”

“Five takedowns tonight? Daybreak looks like she just shit her trunks.”

“Nah, Smiley respects her too much to—”

“I don’t think Smiley even looked her way tonight.”

Osha could feel eyes on her, but she didn’t look at them. She was still staring at the stranger. As the last bodies were dragged out of the cage, he drifted backward to the center for the results. After they were announced, he said something to the emcee, who nodded but didn’t seem surprised.

Daybreak and Smiley disappeared when they left the cage, and the crowd dispersed to mingle or otherwise leave. To avoid the curious stares, Osha found a dark corner to stand in. She’d become damn near nose-blind to the scent of blood, but the sight of it being squeegeed off the mats was still slightly morbid.

Someone approached her hiding spot.

“Are you Osha?”

It was the announcer. This close, he loomed—even taller than the stranger. Only then did she remember the bear spray in her sleeve.

“Who’s asking?”

“You can call me Mr. Wise. Smiley asked for you.” She could see the glint in his eyes. He was dangerous but in a different way than her stranger. “Will you come with me?”

Alarm bells rang like hell in her head, but she chose to dance along to the tune. “Lead the way.”

Mr. Wise led her to a small door near where she’d come in; stairs led to the level above and the bar below. It smelled more like cigarettes than blood in here. “Just up there. The black door at the end.” Then he left her alone.

At the end of the long, twisting flight of stairs, Osha found... dressing rooms? The landing she stood on was connected to a hall of doors, as well as an open archway to access the balcony from before. The doors she passed matched the balaclavas of the cage fighters: yellow, white, blue… and black at the end of the hall.

The first six doors were open and empty, but the black and purple doors for Smiley and Daybreak were closed. The second she stood before the black door, it swung inward, and there he was.

He’d taken off the mask. His hair was damp from the shower he must have taken, and some of it was twisted back out of his face with little fasteners, just like the night she met him. The body heat radiating off of him was felt even standing out there in the hall. It’d been six days since she last saw him, and the bright smile he gave her had her insides scrambling around like a game of musical chairs. Six days, and he still looked just as good as he did in her memory.

“Osha.”

His eyes burned with a fire she knew well—the last time she felt it, she’d been given a great shiny trophy and belt. Her stranger’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she spotted the darkening bruise forming on his jaw. The cut on his cheek from several days ago had healed, and the bruise around it had faded from a red-purple to a pale yellow-green. One bruise out, one bruise in. That was the price of fighting.

“Tell me your name isn’t really Smiley,” Osha blurted out.

His smile widened. “I’m only Smiley sometimes. Come in; I was doing cooldown.”

He opened the door wider for her to come in. His dressing room was sparse but not gross like the others she’d seen in the hall. After all, this room had been solely his for the last ten months. She spotted a few things she recognized on the small table: the black hoodie, backpack, and glasses. Hanging off two small clips was the mask he’d worn to fight, dripping wet.

She approached it curiously. “It’s a little freaky, isn’t it?” she said over her shoulder.

“I didn’t choose it.”

She turned to look at him. He was in a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, barefoot. Red blotches bloomed across his body, lucky shots while he made felling blows. He was holding his hands over his head, stretching his biceps, triceps, and other muscle groups that looked too good for her to think straight. He stood very still for her while she looked at him, and a little zing of pride and power zipped down her spine.

“But… I have to win it again every time I wear it.”

She didn’t know what to say when she met his eyes again, her gaze snapping up from where it had drifted to the waistband of his sweats. He was smirking a little. Caught.

He moved them away from the potentially awkward silence by sitting on a yoga mat and resuming his cool-down stretches. She took a seat on the only chair in the room.

“How’d you hear about the fights?” he asked, falling into a deep stretch. His flexibility shouldn’t have set her heart to stutter, but she’d never seen a man go so deep in her life. The scars on his back stood out in sharp relief from this angle, and this close, she could see that they were a mix of traumas: surgery and injury twisted over themselves in a snarling knot with no end.

It’s what her ankle looked like.

“I, uh, didn’t,” she said after a few seconds of silence. He turned his head to peek an eye at her. Go on. “I didn’t even know there was a gym. I just wanted to go to the bar, but the lights were off.”

“And you just went in?”

“The door was open. And…” She pulled the bear spray out of her sleeve and showed it to him before putting it in her bag. “I wasn’t without protection.”

“Smart girl.”

She nearly choked on air but quickly recovered. When her bag was zipped, she crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “You don’t live in the city this long and feel safe without a can of bear spray,” she said.

“You could carry an actual weapon.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?”

“I’d probably hurt myself before I hurt anybody else.”

He released the pose and adjusted his grip to stretch his feet and ankles. She recognized the different stretch combinations he was doing—she did them every night before bed. Her mind threatened to teeter into that can of worms, but he pulled her out of it.

“Don’t count yourself out, Osha. What’d I tell you? You’re a lion.” When he gave a breathy laugh and showed her his languid smile, she recognized more than the exercises—she saw more of herself in him than anticipated. His goofy grin wasn’t just part of a conjured persona. This was how he truly smiled when he hit that fighter’s high. It was how she smiled.

“I didn’t mean to distract you earlier.”

He laughed at the half-apology, pulling his feet in for a groin stretch. He tugged his shorts up his thighs for better flexibility, and he watched her reaction from the corner of his eye. His expression said, now, who’s distracted?

“You didn’t distract me,” he said, giving her a break and looking down. You surprised me, sure. I thought I got my bell rung and was hearing what I wanted.” He leaned into the stretch, groaning softly at the deeper burn. “I was glad to see you,” he said tightly. She wondered how much of it was from muscle strain and how much was from emotion.

Her heart galloped behind her ribs. Hearing him speak like that, make sounds like that—god, she was in trouble. She took a shuddering breath and held it to try and get her shit together, but it only half-worked.

“I was glad to see you, too.” She could only see a sliver of his face, but she saw him smile. “I liked, uh, seeing you fight. I’d been wondering about it for a while.”

“Oh, I’ve been on your mind?” he smirked at her, but his expression wasn’t remotely malicious.

“Can you blame me?”

The stranger seemed pleased with her answer, a shared refrain from several conversations together. He released the stretch and rolled seamlessly onto his back, holding one knee to his chest. He lolled his head to the side to look at her, self-satisfied. “Why did you come to the bar tonight, Osha?”

He was going to make her say it. Bastard.

“Well, Yord hasn’t broken the espresso machine, and you said you weren’t coming around anyway. You haven’t been at the apartment gym, and I couldn’t find anything about you on the internet to track you down. You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know.”

“I know.”

“So the last place I knew you might be… was here. Well, downstairs.”

He nodded, idly tracing his thumb over his kneecap. It was distracting. “You’ve been looking for me, then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Damnit, hadn’t she said enough for him? He blinked at her, lazy as a cat but twice as sharp.

Fuck it.

“I wanted to see you.”

He made a pleased noise, switching to hold his other leg. He settled into the stretch, breathing slowly like he was savoring those five words he’d dragged past her lips. “Have you thought about my offer?”

She supposed she’d gotten what she wanted. If she was pursuing him this hard, she had her answer. Why did she go looking for him? She wanted to see him. Why did she want to see him? Because she wanted to train—or perhaps another reason she wasn’t being honest with herself about.

He released his leg and sat up fluidly, kneeling before her. He rested both hands on his thighs and tilted his head to the side, considering her openly. Messy-haired, skin still bright and flushed from the fight, kneeling on the floor, he looked penitent, beseeching.

“What do you want, Osha?”

“In order?”

“If you wish.” His lips twitched, suppressing a smile.

She held up three fingers, ticking them off one by one. “In order: I want your number, I want a drink, and I want you to train me.”

CHAPTER 7

[taekookpassion]

The Temptation Game (Chapter 10)

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Chapter Title : Breakdown Warnings for Readers Emotional distress Themes of unrequited love Mild language Small Summary In this chapter, Jungkook grapples with the emotional fallout from his unresolved relationship with Y/N. The weight of rejection and longing consumes him as he navigates their tension-filled encounters at school. Word Count : 2690 words

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The following days dragged on like a storm cloud hanging heavily above Jungkook’s head. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of rejection that clung to him, making every moment they spent together feel like a delicate balancing act.

At school, whispers of the library incident had faded, but the weight of their unresolved tension lingered between him and Y/N. Despite the space she suggested, it felt more suffocating than ever.

He would catch glimpses of her in the hallways, laughing with her friends, and a mix of emotions surged through him—longing, anger, and jealousy. Why couldn’t she see how much he wanted her? It felt like she was dancing around him, teasing him with their past intimacy while denying him the closeness he craved.

One afternoon, as he made his way to the cafeteria, he spotted Y/N sitting at a table with her friends. His heart raced at the sight of her, but the tension coiling in his chest reminded him of their recent argument. He hesitated, the urge to turn around overwhelming.

“Hey, Jungkook! Come sit with us!” one of her friends called out, waving him over.

He glanced at Y/N, who looked away, her face turning slightly red. That tiny reaction ignited something primal in him—a desire to claim her, to remind her of what they shared.

But he forced himself to remain composed, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing him falter. “I’m good, thanks,” he replied, keeping his voice steady as he walked past the table, feeling her gaze on him like a burning flame.

As he grabbed his lunch, the cafeteria buzzed with conversations, but all he could hear were the echoes of his and Y/N’s argument. Every time he tried to bridge the gap between them, she seemed to pull away, and he was done playing this game.

After lunch, he decided to confront her directly. As he approached her locker, he noticed her chatting with her friends, her laughter ringing like music to his ears, yet it made his heart ache. He cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from her friends.

“Y/N, can we talk?” he asked, his voice steady but firm.

She exchanged glances with her friends, who quickly excused themselves, leaving them alone in the hallway. The air was thick with unspoken words, and he could see the hesitation in her eyes.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, feeling the tension build within him. “I’m tired of the back and forth. I can’t keep pretending like everything is fine when it’s not. I want to know what you really want.”

She bit her lip, her expression faltering. “I just think we need to take it slow. It’s a lot to process.”

“Slow? Is that really what you want?” he challenged, stepping closer, invading her space. “Because it feels like you’re just pushing me away. I’m done with this game. I want you, Y/N. All of you. Not just bits and pieces when it’s convenient.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes—a glimmer of understanding, perhaps a hint of desire. But it quickly faded, replaced by uncertainty.

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I get lost in you, and it scares me.”

“Scares you?” he echoed, incredulous. “You’re scared of being with me after everything we’ve shared? After all those kisses?”

“I don’t want to rush into something I’m not ready for!” she protested, her voice rising slightly.

He stepped back, feeling the sting of her words. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait around for you to figure it out? I’ve tried being patient, but it’s killing me, Y/N!”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Jungkook felt his heart drop. He hadn’t meant to push her to the brink. “I just need time,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I need to feel comfortable again.”

“Comfortable?” he repeated, disbelief etched on his face. “You’re the one who keeps pushing me away. Every time I try to get close, you shut me down!”

She reached out, but he stepped back instinctively, not wanting her to feel like she could placate him. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but I can’t keep doing this either. It hurts too much.”

Y/N’s hands fell to her sides, and she looked away, defeated. “Maybe…maybe we should just take a break from each other.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “A break?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what you really want?”

“I just need space to figure things out,” she said, her voice steady but filled with sorrow.

“Fine,” he replied, his heart heavy. “But don’t expect me to wait around forever.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, the weight of her words pressing down on him. As he made his way through the crowded hallways, his mind was a storm of emotions—anger, sadness, and a deep yearning that wouldn’t fade.

Days passed, and Jungkook tried to focus on his classes, on anything but the aching void Y/N’s absence left in his heart. He noticed her in the hallways, laughing and chatting with her friends, and the sight only made his heart ache more.

But he refused to be the one who chased after her. The temptation to pull her close, to remind her of the connection they had, was strong, but he held back. Every time they crossed paths, he felt that familiar urge bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

One evening, unable to bear the pain any longer, Jungkook decided to confront his feelings head-on. He found himself at his favorite spot, a small park near their school, where they used to spend hours together. The memories flooded back, and for the first time, he allowed himself to think about what he truly wanted.

He wanted her. All of her. The intimacy, the connection, the closeness. And no amount of space could change that.

Jungkook sat on the park bench, the twilight casting a golden hue over the horizon, but all he could see were the memories of Y/N flooding his mind. He remembered the way she laughed, the soft brush of her fingers against his skin, the warmth of her breath as she whispered secrets under the stars.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He felt like a caged animal, desperate to break free and express the whirlwind of emotions within him. Jungkook had never been one to shy away from his feelings, but this time, he was struggling to find the words.

Taking a deep breath, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to speak to her, to make her understand that his feelings ran deeper than mere physical attraction. The ache in his chest only grew stronger as he thought of her.

Later that evening, he found her at home, her room lit softly by fairy lights. Y/N was sitting at her desk, surrounded by textbooks, her brow furrowed in concentration. The sight of her—focused and determined—made his heart swell and sink at the same time.

“Y/N,” he called softly, stepping inside. She looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“Jungkook! What are you doing here?” she asked, a mix of curiosity and wariness in her tone.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart raced.

“Is it about… us?” she asked, biting her lip, a hint of anxiety in her expression.

“Yes. I want to clear the air.” He took a step closer, feeling the distance between them. “I need you to understand something.”

“Okay…” she replied, sitting back in her chair, her posture tense.

“Everything that’s been happening between us, it’s not just physical for me,” he said, searching her eyes for any flicker of understanding. “I care about you—really care. It’s not just about the kisses or the touches. I want more than that. I want you in my life.”

Y/N’s expression shifted, and he could see the conflict within her. “Jungkook, I…I don’t want to get tangled up in a physical relationship. It’s not what I’m looking for right now.”

“Not looking for? But what we have—it’s special.... not physical,” he insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. “We connect in ways I’ve never felt before.”

She shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “I appreciate that, but I need to focus on my career. I have goals, dreams I want to achieve, and I can’t get sidetracked by… by whatever this is between us.”

His heart dropped. “So that’s it? You’re just going to push me away because you think it’s just physical?”

“It’s not that simple, Jungkook!” she snapped, her eyes flashing with frustration. “I can’t afford to lose focus. I need to be serious about my future.”

“Your future?” he repeated incredulously. “What about us? What about how I feel about you?”

“Feelings don’t matter when you’re trying to build something for yourself,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “I can’t afford to get distracted by romance. I need to stay focused.”

Jungkook felt a surge of anger at her words. “You think this is just a distraction for me? You think I’m playing games? I’m not some guy looking for a fling, Y/N! I want you.”

“And what if I’m not ready?” she countered, her voice breaking slightly. “What if I can’t give you what you want? I can’t promise you anything right now.”

His chest tightened, the weight of her rejection pressing down on him. “So you’d rather just cut me out completely than figure things out together?”

She looked away, her gaze fixed on the wall, a pained expression crossing her face. “I need to take care of myself first, Jungkook. I can’t get caught up in something that might hold me back.”

“Then what about us?” he asked, feeling the desperation creeping into his tone. “I can help you, Y/N. We can work through this together. But I need to know you want this too.”

“I do want to be with you,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze, “but not right now. I’m scared of losing myself in this, and I can’t let that happen.”

The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken words and feelings that hung like a fog in the air. Jungkook took a step back, the distance between them feeling insurmountable.

“Then maybe you need to figure things out on your own,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but it cracked slightly at the end.

“Jungkook…” she started, but he shook his head.

“No, Y/N. You’re right. You need to focus on your goals. But I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t hurt me. I’ll be here when you’re ready, but I can’t wait forever..... I just can't..... Please understand my feelings.....”

With that, he turned and left, feeling the weight of her gaze on his back as he walked away.

The night felt colder than before, and with each step, he felt a part of him breaking. He wanted to scream, to shout at the universe for throwing them into this tangled mess of emotions. He wanted her, needed her, but if she didn’t want him in the same way, what could he do?

As he rode his motorbike home, the roar of the engine echoed the turmoil in his heart. The temptation to reach out, to chase after her, felt overwhelming, but he knew he had to let her go, at least for now.

He was done with the games; he wanted her heart, not just her body. But if she couldn’t see that, he would have to wait for the day she would.

****

As Jungkook slammed the door to his room, the familiar four walls suddenly felt like a prison. The chaos inside his heart mirrored the storm brewing in his mind. He sank down onto his bed, burying his face in his hands, the tears streaming down his cheeks as the weight of rejection crashed over him like a tidal wave.

“When did I fall this deep for her?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper against the thick silence of the room. “When? When? WHEN?!” The frustration surged within him, an uncontrollable force that threatened to tear him apart.

“AAAAHHHH!” he screamed, the sound echoing off the walls, reverberating through his soul. It felt as if the very air around him had turned suffocating. “Why can’t she understand my pain? Why?” His chest heaved with the intensity of his emotions, each breath feeling like a burden.

He loved her. He loved her so damn much. It was like an addiction—one he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried. Every touch, every fleeting moment they shared was like a drug coursing through his veins, igniting a fire in his heart that he couldn’t extinguish. “She’s like my addiction that I can’t hold myself back from. That’s why I always satiate myself with those little touches…”

But she didn’t see it that way. To her, it was all just physical—a series of moments without meaning, a game he played to fulfill some carnal desire. The thought twisted like a knife in his gut. “But she… she’s saying I’m so physical…”

Overcome with rage and despair, Jungkook leapt to his feet, his emotions boiling over. He swept his arm across his desk, sending books and papers crashing to the floor. The sound of crashing objects was nothing compared to the storm inside him. “Why can’t she see what this is doing to me?!” he shouted, his voice breaking with the weight of his heartache.

He moved around the room like a whirlwind, his hands shaking with raw energy. Jungkook threw open his closet, tossing clothes onto the floor, the chaos mirroring his shattered thoughts. He wanted to scream at the world, to let everyone know how much she meant to him, but all that came out was anger and frustration.

Finally, he collapsed onto his bed, tears soaking into the sheets. The sobs wracked his body, each one tearing him apart a little more. “I love her… a lot…” he gasped, the words barely leaving his lips before he was consumed by another wave of grief.

The darkness of the room felt heavier now, filled with the echoes of his broken heart. He punched the mattress in frustration, as if trying to drive the pain from his body. “I just wanted her to understand… to see how deep my feelings for her.... the love I hold for her…”

Jungkook lay back, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a jumbled mess of love and anguish. He remembered every moment they had spent together, the laughter, the stolen kisses, the way she had looked at him with those bright, sparkling eyes. Each memory was a dagger, twisting deeper with the realization that she was pulling away.

“If only she could see…” he mumbled, his voice thick with tears. “If only she could feel what I feel…”

But as the night wore on, he knew that he couldn’t force her to understand. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he had to respect her wishes, even if it felt like a part of him was dying inside. “I can’t keep fighting for something she doesn’t want…”

His emotions surged again, and he let out a muffled shout into his pillow, hoping to drown out the anguish that seemed to echo in every corner of his mind.

The darkness felt overwhelming, but Jungkook knew he had to find a way through it. He couldn’t let this break him, even if it felt like it was tearing him apart. He had to be strong, not just for himself but for Y/N, even if it meant stepping back from the very thing he craved the most.

With a heavy heart and a broken spirit, he finally closed his eyes, letting exhaustion wash over him. Tomorrow would come with its own challenges, but for now, he allowed himself to feel the pain, to embrace the chaos of his emotions as he fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of a girl he loved more than words could say.

To be continued.....

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[acourtofantumbra]

Where Have All the Dragons Gone?

☆ All SJM spoilers: ACOTAR, CC, and TOG ☆

It's been quite a while since I put my SJM tin foil hat... I've got the attention span of a squirrel and moved onto other things.

Anyway, over the past 3-4 months I decided to start my first true re-read of all of SJM's books while a bunch of my friends were beginning the series for the first time. This week I finished Crescent City (just in time for my insanely beautiful Fairyloot editions to show up 1/2 a year later) and plan on moving onto TOG this week... but I have so, so, so many scenes that have been bothering me that I fully skimmed over in my first reads.

This scene above from HOSAB, chapter 46, with Ariadne has been fueling my intrusive thoughts lately. On my first read of CC2 I was so distracted by that insane ending that I could probably sum up my thoughts about Ariadne as "Well, that felt like a waste of time?" But upon further review (and now having read TOG in its entirety as well)... I'm starting to feel like she might be one of the most easter egg laden chess pieces placed on the board.

Per usual, I don't really have answers as much as I have some glaring parallels that feel important... But ultimately I think our "long, lost dragons" are not so lost and have been waiting patiently to enter the chat.

Ok, let's go back to the (extended) scene from HOSAB:

“Exactly,” Flynn said, as if the Fae lord weren’t taunting a dragon. A fucking dragon. A Lower, yes, but … fuck. They weren’t true shifters, switching between humanoid and animal bodies at will. They were more like the mer, if anything. There was a biological or magical difference to explain it—Ithan vaguely remembered learning about it in school, though he’d promptly forgotten the details.  It didn’t matter now, he supposed. The dragon could navigate two forms. He’d be a fool to underestimate her in this one.  The dragon stared Flynn down. He gave her a charming smile back. Her chin lifted. “Ariadne.” Flynn arched a brow. “A dragon named Ariadne?”  “I suppose you have a better name for me?” she shot back.  “Skull-Crusher, Winged Doom, Light-Eater.” Flynn ticked them off on his fingers.  She snorted, and the hint of amusement had Ithan realizing that the dragon was … beautiful. Utterly lethal and defiant, but—well, damn. From the gleam in Flynn’s eyes, Ithan could tell the Fae lord was thinking the same. Ariadne said, “Such names are for the old ones who dwell in their mountain caves and sleep the long slumber of true immortals.” “But you’re not one of them?” Ithan asked.   “My kin are more … modern.” Her gaze sharpened on Flynn. “Hence Ariadne.”  Flynn winked. She scowled.  “How did all of you”—Declan cut in, motioning to Ariadne, her body similar to that of a Fae female’s—“fit into that tiny ring?”  “We were bespelled by the Astronomer,” Sasa whispered. “He’s an ancient sorcerer—don’t let him deceive you with that feeble act. He bought us all, and shoved us into those rings to light the way when he descends into Hel. Though Ariadne got put into the ring by …” She trailed off when the dragon cut her a scathing, warning look. HOSAB, Chapter 46

It needs to be said, the difference between magical beings feels like it has only barely scraped the surface at the end of CC2 and I have not one clue how Sarah is finally gonna break all that shit down for us. But during my reread I finally got really into the Mer plot for this exact reason as well... clearly quite a bit going on there. Also... with the sprites magic not being first light-based??? Ok, back to the task at hand.

So Ariadne is identified as a dragon, which according to the front of both Crescent City books, is part of the House of Flame and Shadow. Perhaps our most controversial collection of beings in the CC world, our Slytherin house lol.

But, according to Ariadne herself, there is a difference between the kind of dragon shifter she is and a dragon that is a true immortal... and allegedly sleeping in a cave somewhere?! —> remember this. Ok, so what is a true immortal? Aren't the Vanir and fae immortal for the most part?

Well, we've been getting corrections through SJM's series that there is a difference between long-lived, which is what the fae and Vanir are, and true immortals.

Particularly in the ACOTAR series we've had Death Gods explain the difference between their true immortality aka "[they have] no death awaiting them." And suspiciously, the Bone Carver claims that his sister, the Weaver, is not only truly immortal, but she's found a way to "eat life itself" so that's remains youthful. Interesting... can think of around 6 folks allegedly able to do that in Crescent City, but I digress.

So true dragons — the ancient ones — seem to be true immortals as well. There is "no death waiting for them." Interesting considering we've had references in both TOG and CC that dragons are either no more or MIA. We actually get references at least once to dragons in each of SJM's series. Let's dig in a little more.

So TOG is our series with the most obvious inclusion of, at the very least, dragon-like creatures (we love you Abraxos) aka Wyverns. Wyverns we learn were made by the king - in a process Manon claims to not know much about... but happens in a mountain. But let's not skip ahead.

We've known since early on in TOG that dragons once existed in Erilea, but wyverns remain and are even the symbol represented on Ardalan's royal seal.

Celeana is surprised to see dragons depicted on the doors to the palace's library - because of course... libraries are at this point one of our most consistent, important, and often lost/destroyed, settings/plot points across worlds. Followed up with her feeling "a shot of lightning" about this dragon-adorned library... my spidey senses are tingling, how about you? Have dragons been associated with lightning in mythology? Yes. Yes they have.

First, what is the difference between a dragon and a wyvern? In fact lets take a look at all the varietals, some of the names might be familiar.

Who could forget the Wyrm from ACOTAR? Characters (amren) have been referred to as drakes, and I think we can argue that we've encountered a couple others from this list (perhaps sent from Hel?).

Anyway, what happened to the dragons of Erilea? It seems that they were defeated during a conflict and people largely believe them to be gone and whole societies (the mycenians) lost hope and fight once the last dragon disappeared/was killed.

But it's Maeve who gives us the clearest picture as to what happened to the dragons.

Glass is obviously significant in Throne of Glass and brings new meaning to the now destroyed glass castle, which I now assume was made from dragon glass.

But Maeve having "ensured" dragons were eradicated is particularly interesting knowing what we know about dragon fire from CC2 (we'll get to that). What this "ancient and bloody conflict" was we can guess at, but much like ACOTAR and CC we've got a wealth of wars to choose some and some we have more information about than others... anyone else suspicious about the sprite rebellion?

But Maeve mentioning Aelin's own "fire-breathing heritage" gave me pause... is she suggesting Aelin has any relation to dragons? Especially when Aelin starts to feel pangs of empathy for reasons she can't explain (a lightbulb moment in any SJM book - she uses this easter egg tactic a lot), her overwhelming sorrow while she's actively being tortured feels notable. Especially mentioning dragons "would never again been on this earth." Perhaps they can be found on another?

But Maeve destroying dragons is important because Bryce learns from Jesiba in CC2 that the strongest weapon against a Prince of Hel is in fact... dragon fire. Seems like an important tool to have in the arsenal... and why mention it if there are no dragons left anyway?

It contained an analysis of dragon fire, dating back five thousand years. It was in a language Bryce didn’t know, but a translation had been included. Jesiba had scribbled Good luck at the top. 

Well, now she knew why the Astronomer kept Ariadne in a ring. Not for light—but for protection. 

Among its many uses, the ancient scholar had written, dragon fire is one of the few substances proven to harm the Princes of Hel. It can burn even the Prince of the Pit’s dark hide. 

Yeah, Ariadne was valuable. And if Apollion was readying his armies … Bryce had no intention of letting the dragon return to the Astronomer’s clutches. HOSAB, Chapter 50

Granted, this alludes to there being a few substances that can harm a Prince of Hel, but with the introduction of Ariadne and "the ancient ones"... dragons have just shot to the top of my personal list of "things that are probably coming for us in CC3 and beyond" especially in this fight against the Big Bads.

Granted we learned when Bryce breaks into the Dawn room at the Crystal Palace (dragon glass too???) that the warring factions of Hel united to oust the Asteri and Thanatos is only now saying he doesn't give an f about his brothers' plans... maybe we don't want to roast Apollion, but just some of his brothers? And maybe dragon fire has some ability to take down an Asteri too? Who can say?

But that brings me back to Ariadne's conversation about the difference between the kind of dragon she is an the kind of dragons that have allegedly gone missing... she doesn't say they're gone.

“Skull-Crusher, Winged Doom, Light-Eater.” Flynn ticked them off on his fingers.  She snorted, and the hint of amusement had Ithan realizing that the dragon was … beautiful. Utterly lethal and defiant, but—well, damn. From the gleam in Flynn’s eyes, Ithan could tell the Fae lord was thinking the same. Ariadne said, “Such names are for the old ones who dwell in their mountain caves and sleep the long slumber of true immortals.”

Hm... sleeping in mountain caves? We've definitely had some not super subtle hints about some giant presence slumbering below mountains — in both TOG and ACOTAR. And while TOG has clearly mentioned their missing dragons... ACOTAR explicitly references dragons one time.

When Lucien gives Feyre a cloak UTM she notes Amarantha's coat of arms isn't just a dragon... but a sleeping dragon. Can I fully say I understand all the implications here? Certainly not. But it was an "oh damn" moment when I saw it. Especially considering how convinced I am that Hybern was possessed by a Valg. And if Maeve (Valg) and Princes of Hel (??) fear dragon fire... that... is an intriguing parallel.

But ok, so we've got a coat of arms with a sleeping dragon... what else has been referenced as a massive sleeping force?

Cassian wondered if his brother had ever told her what dwelled in these mountains. Most had been slain by the Illyrians, or sent fleeing to those Steppes. But the most cunning of them, the most ancient … they had found ways to hide. To emerge on moonless nights to feed. Even five centuries of training couldn’t stop the chill that skittered down his spine as Cassian surveyed the empty, quiet mountains below and wondered what slept beneath the snow...

Cassian soared toward it, unable to resist Ramiel’s ancient summons. Different—the mountain was so different from the barren, terrible presence of the lone peak in the center of Prythian. Ramiel had always felt alive, somehow. Awake and watchful....

Ramiel rose higher still, a shard of stone piercing the gray sky. Beautiful and lonely. Eternal and ageless.  ACOFAS, Chapter 3

Now I'm not saying I'm 100% confident a dragon is sleeping beneath Ramiel... but I am saying I feel confident we've gotta find dragons sleeping somewhere and the planet that's retained the most magic seems like an obvious first place to look.

I also wonder how much connection there could be between lost ancient dragons and the rare thunderbird line — a CC plot point that has been breaking my brain even more the second time around (all thoughts, no real conclusions). But with the inclusion of lightning + dragons (Aelin at the library, the Great Rite, etc.)... thunderbirds are looking even more suspicious in my eyes. Even more suspicious is our dear Hunt Athalar... lightning wielder of our dreams...

Her teeth shone, her canines long enough to shred flesh. “Did Bryce Quinlan tell you what occurred when she stood in this chamber twelve years ago?” His blood turned to ice. “That’s Quinlan’s business.” That smile didn’t falter. “You do not wish to know what I saw for her, either?” “No.” He spoke from his heart. “It’s her business,” he repeated. His lightning rose within him, rallying against a foe he could not slay. The Oracle blinked, a slow bob of those thick lashes. “You remind me of that which was lost long ago,” she said quietly. “I had not realized it might ever appear again.” HOEAB, Chapter 33

That's all I got for now... stay tuned for a potential descent into madness about Thunderbirds. We'll see.

[yuriko-mukami]

Her Calamity Dark 10

Beta reader: @ruki-mukami-dl

Chapter Selection

The library was quiet and surprisingly cool. So was the angel in my arms as she absorbed herself into a book. While she turned page after page, I found it difficult to concentrate on the novel and played with her curls instead. Such a strange feeling, not like me at all. 

I could not stop the disturbed feeling whenever the scene from a couple of days ago played through my mind again. Even though I did not want to admit it, it was clear that Karlheinz-sama had manipulated Yuriko’s feelings to make her fire appear. I did not like how he had made her fear. She should have been happy at all times and no harm should have come to her.

But Karlheinz-sama wanted Yuriko to train Shu. I could not prevent that if I wanted to stay as his loyal servant. It seemed that all I could do was stay by her side and make sure that Shu would not maltreat her. Though he had seemed like he truly was afraid of the flames… but fear was a great power that was able to push people into desperate actions. I needed to be on guard. Perhaps, I should have a private chat about the matter with Shu. 

As Yuriko shifted against me, I buried my nose into her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. It was different again, less intense and not so… needy? That made me wonder if the Kitsune she had met had been correct with the mating season. It would not be that surprising for foxes to have such. The Vampires had their own as well once a month but for the Kitsune it could work differently since they were not tied to the moon like we were.

It still bothered me how little I knew about the Kitsune. But I had learned one new thing now. Their fire could not burn Karlheinz-sama. It was even possible that any Vampire could survive the flames, but I was not too eager to try that out. I would prefer Yuriko to be happy and not need her fire at all. It seemed to only come out when she was upset which was not the course I wish to take.

A sigh left my lips before I was able to prevent it. Instantly, Yuriko raised her gaze from the book and locked her teal orbs with mine.

“Umh… everything okay, Ruki? Did I turn the page too fast… or was I being too slow?” Her teeth dug into her plump bottom lip. Immediately, I lifted my hand and brushed my thumb over the rosy petal.

“Do not hurt what is mine.” I leaned in, pecking her mouth. The temptation was too much, and I ended up pulling her lip with mine. “No, you were not too fast or too slow. I was simply lost in thoughts. You can continue reading if you wish.”

But Yuriko tilted her head and kissed my thumb. “What were you thinking about?” She turned, closed the book, and put it on the table before meandering around and sitting on my lap. As she faced me, her warm fingertips traced my cheeks. The air thickened with the genuine worry she radiated. What had I ever done to deserve all this cherishing?

The answer was nothing. I did not deserve her. As simple as that. Yet I would not let go of her, for she would be mine forever. That might be selfish of me, but I did not care. I had found the one thing I wanted more than anything in this world so I would keep it. I was incredibly lucky that she did not fight back. At least not anymore.

“Ruki?” The chirp from Yuriko made me realize I had not answered her inquiry. 

“Haa… I do not wish to worry you. But I do not like what happened during the dinner.” Yuriko opened her mouth as she heard my words, but I pressed my index finger against her lips. “It is not your fault, so do not apologize. I will discuss this with Sakamaki Shu. Perhaps, we can find another solution that will please Karlheinz-sama, for I wish not to involve you with those arrogant aristocrats.”

“Umh… aren’t you an aristocrat too?” Yuriko spoke against my finger. The soft movement vibrated on my skin, making me want to push that digit into her wet cavern and force her to moan instead of talking. “Not… that I want to work with Shu-san, but I don’t wish to offend Karlheinz-sama either.”

Always so well-mannered. I had to admit I enjoyed this side of her. Unlike many others, she knew how to behave in the company of other people. Of course, she also lost her temper at times, but mostly she tried to be a good girl. My good girl.

“Haa… yes, I was an aristocrat… but that was in the past and I am not so proud of those days…” I brushed a wayward curl behind Yuriko’s ear. “Neither of us wants to offend Karlheinz-sama, but do not worry, I will arrange this in one way or another.”

“So… so… I don’t have to… try to burn… Shu-san…?” Teal started to pool. Yuriko would not want to hurt a fly, I was sure of it.

I nodded. “I promise. You should learn to call that flare of yours, but only use it for the intentions that feel right in your heart.”

“Alright, then I won’t —”

Yuriko’s phone vibrated on the table. Both of us turned our heads toward it, seeing a name appearing on the screen. I could not push aside the tenseness that instantly slithered to my temples. “It seems Elizabeth misses you.”

“Umh… Yes… We haven’t been texting for a while. I wonder if everything is okay…” Yuriko reached out, picking up the phone. For a moment, I admired her thumb work with the screen when she tapped her secret code so fast that a Vampire would be proud of her. It did not stop me from memorizing the series of numbers though. Just in case.

“Is she well?” I asked as Yuriko went quiet and stared at the phone, her brows knitting tighter and tighter together. Although the answer was quite clearly no with the way her face wrinkled, I wished to hear her tell me the news directly.

Yuriko sighed and turned the screen toward me. Leaning in, I read what the zombie girl had scribbled to her, secretly adoring the fact Yuriko was willingly showing me the conversation.

Yuri-Yuri! Big News!!!  Σ(°ロ°) I’m not living with the Sakamakis anymore! Because Shin came for me when the Sakamakis were out with Yui. I can’t believe it! (°ロ°) ! Currently, I’m in the Tsukinami mansion, even sharing the bedroom with Shin. So, don’t be worried. Everything is okay. I just don’t know if I can come to school when the semester starts but I try to talk about it with Shin and Carla.

“I… I think Shin kidnapped Eli-chan…” Yuriko patted her lips with her finger. “Though… is it a kidnapping if Eli-chan wanted to go with him? She doesn’t sound like she is hurt and kept against her will… but I’m a bit worried if this will cause trouble…”

“You should not worry yourself too much with the matters of others. Elizabeth seems to be fond of that Founder after all.” Even with what I said, I was conflicted. It would have been better if Yuriko had not paid attention to this occurrence, but it was strange that this happened right after I had had a conversation about the First Bloods with Karlheinz-sama. So far, those two had not made any moves that would have bothered anyone, but this… “Elizabeth was living in the Sakamaki mansion, was she not?”

Yuriko nodded to my words. “Yes, yes, she was. I met her when you were away and honestly, the meeting made me worried. She had punctual marks on her hands and —”

I chuckled. “You are rather marked yourself. It is not a reason to stress when someone is living with the Vampires.”

“But this was different! Those weren’t bite marks, I would have recognized one. And she said that Reiji-san was doing experiments for her…”

“Is that so?” I frowned. “Then you do not need to worry. That Founder clearly saved her from bad treatment.”

Reiji was doing research with Elizabeth? This piece of information nudged something in me, it felt important even though I could not put my finger into it. Still, there must be a meaning behind it because Reiji rarely did anything simply for the sake of it. Perhaps, studying poisons and drinking tea, but not something like this. I doubted it. And punctual marks could mean he had either injected something in Yuriko’s tiny friend or taken her blood. Maybe he was making a new type of poison out of zombies’ blood.

I almost shook my head but stopped at the last second. Yuriko did not need to see my inner turmoil. Instead, I caressed her cheek and smiled at her. “Do not burden yourself with nothing. Your friend is safe now.”

In the hands of the Founders. Were they scheming or did that insolent fool truly have feelings for that zombie like Yuriko had told me?

“I… I could write back and ask for the address. Then I could visit her to see if everything is okay with her and Shin.” Yuriko locked her gaze with mine.

“Absolutely not. You do not do such a thing.” I grabbed her chin. “Tsukinami Shin helped us once but that is no reason to get too familiar with him. Your friend chose to be with him but that is on her. You may write her and wish her good luck, but you are not to visit her.”

I would not let my angel enter the dwelling of the First Bloods. No amount of pleading gazes would make me change my mind about this. Those two were enemies of Karlheinz-sama and without a doubt plotting something. Elizabeth might even play a role in it. Why else had they gotten her out of the Sakamaki mansion just now? There was a bigger meaning behind it, and it was better to keep Yuriko out of it.

“Let us focus on something else now. My brothers are not at home, but you still need dinner. Come with me in the kitchen to cook together this time.” I picked up the phone from Yuriko’s hands and pecked her lips once more. “What would you like to eat?”

“Is the salad not to your liking perhaps?” I set my fork on the table, laying my gaze on Yuriko who stared out of the window while poking her bowl. She flinched at my words and hastily stuffed a forkful into her mouth.

After a while, she swallowed. “Mhm… that’s not it…” 

“Then what is it? It is not like you to be picky with your meal.” Usually, it was the opposite. Yuriko never complained about my choice of dinner, unlike my brothers who were not shy to express their distaste if something was not as they wished. But no matter what I put in front of Yuriko, she ate and complimented it. Sometimes I wondered if she even had a favorite dish.

But today, Yuriko had emptied only half of her bowl, forgetting to lift her fork lost in thought. I did not like that.

“Umh…” Yuriko squirmed in her chair. “There is just so much… going on…”

Nodding, I sighed, for she was not wrong. I rather would have her not to anguish but it seemed she was a natural worrier. “Everything will be alright.”

I wanted to believe that. But… the First Bloods, Karlheinz-sama and now Elizabeth… It was like our blue sky was about to be covered with deep gray clouds. Other than me visiting Eden, we had been living in our personal bubble these few weeks. It had been like we had gotten a paradise of our own but now other people wanted to pull us from there. There were days when I wished I could have taken Yuriko and left this place for good to have our peace.

Yet I could not do that to Karlheinz-sama. 

Still, before the rising storm would hit us, we could have our piece of heaven. “It seems like your master needs to entertain you a little~ But first, I will fix us some iced tea.”

Getting up from the table, I gathered our bowls. I covered Yuriko’s with plastic and slipped it in the fridge, grabbing the bottle of green tea I had purchased for her. I was sure I had made ice cubes before and a peek into the freezer revealed that I was not wrong. On another occasion, I would have simmered the tea myself and let it cool down slowly, but I did not wish to wait for hours for it to be ready.

As I clattered some of the ice cubes in a tall glass, I stopped staring at the view. Perhaps… Yes, it could be fun indeed and would surely keep both of us busy. 

“How thirsty are you?” My back turned at Yuriko, I clipped my belt open and pulled it off with a slow, quiet movement, making sure the buckle did not give out a noise when I placed it on the counter next to the glass.

“Umh… not very…” 

That was the exact answer I wanted to hear. “Perhaps you should get up then.”

Turning around, I laid my eyes on Yuriko. She pushed herself up and arranged the hem of her light summer dress that was almost see-through. Baby blue fabric complimented her hair, but I wanted to get rid of it.

I stepped closer and brushed a curl behind Yuriko’s ear, revealing a faded bite mark on the column of her neck.

“I know you worry… and that you have suffered, especially lately.” I placed a kiss on Yuriko’s partly open lips. “But I do not want you to hide anything from me. I will find a way to soothe you, make you feel pure. So put your trust in me. I will satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.”

“Eh?”

I loved the innocent face Yuriko was giving me. Those teal eyes that gazed at me were full of unvoiced questions.

“I will take good care of you, I promise. Now, undress for me. Will you?”

“He-here?”

“Yes. I told you. No one else is at home.” As a cue, I pulled off my t-shirt and tossed it over the backrest of a chair. “I will not say it twice.”

“But… but…” Yuriko squirmed before me, and the sweet shade of fresh roses spread on her face.

“Be a good girl…” I brushed my thumb over her lips and when she smiled, I pushed it past them, letting it sink into her wet cavern and enjoying the soft touch of her tiny tongue. “Be a good girl and I will reward you.”

Yuriko blinked, sucking my thumb. I remembered well how that tongue felt on something else, and the mere thought made me smirk. But today, I was up for something else. She would be my delicious dessert, not the other way around. As I pulled my finger out, her mouth made a plopping sound. 

I watched as Yuriko lifted her hands, pushing the straps of her dress down her upper arms. The cloth slithered along her body and piled around her ankles, covering her bare toes. Her bosom heaved under a white lace bra while the rosy buds under the fabric started to peak through it.

“Such an enjoyable sight. Now, take off your bra.” Keeping my eyes on Yuriko, I relished in the tone of her face which only grew deeper. She let her hand travel behind her back, clipping the hooks of her lingerie open and letting the lace piece drop. Her perky breasts bounced with the movement. Only slightly, but I made sure I did not miss a single shift.

“Good girl.” It was amusing how visibly more flushed my words made Yuriko. “Turn your back on me.”

A confusion swiped over her face, but she did as told. I grabbed my belt on the counter and roamed closer. “Do you trust me? Completely?”

“Yes, Ruki, I do.” Yuriko’s voice was a symphony of temptation to my ears.

Running my finger along her arm, I leaned in, close to her ear. “And do you remember what to say if you do not enjoy what I am doing?”

Yuriko shivered. “Umh… yes?”

“And what is that?” I breathed into her hair.

“Soup.” The word came out firm.

“That is right.” Before I knew it, a smile had already occupied my lips. “Say it loud and clear if needed. Do not hesitate. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

Nuzzling her hair, I gave a teasing nibble to Yuriko’s earlobe. “That is my good girl.”

I collected Yuriko’s arms and hauled them behind her back. She tensed as I started to secure them with my belt but did not fight back. I loved how obedient she was and always willing to explore things I suggested to her. 

After tightening the belt, I whirled Yuriko around, meeting her wide eyes and flustered cheeks. “You look so beautiful right now.”

“Umh… that’s a bit…”

Pressing my index finger on her lips, I shook my head. “Do not deny it. And stay still.”

I took a step back and caught the glass from the counter, moving it on the table next to us. Fishing one of the ice cubes there, I monitored Yuriko. She did not move but I could see how her breasts went up and down along with her breathing. 

“Let us see how long you can stay silent…” Lifting the ice cube, I inched closer again. Yuriko swallowed and nodded, her muscles visibly stiffening. Adoring her reaction, I pressed the cube gently on her chest. In the instant, her skin was covered with tiny bumps and a gasp slipped past her lips. 

Sliding the cube down, I advanced her breasts. Yuriko squirmed but did not back down as I glided the ice on her cleavage, gazing at the rivulet that slithered down the valley toward her belly button. With circling movements, I started to caress one of the perky mounds with the ice cube, watching how her nipple grew harder and harder. I brought the cube right next to it, and Yuriko inhaled deeply, locking her breath in. The anticipation made her tense even more.

Taking my time, I slid the ice over the tip of her breast. Yuriko gaped, her eyes widening even more but she managed to keep her voice down. Watching her struggle like this was quite intriguing, and I could not help but wonder how much she could take.

Moving the ice over the other breast of hers, I captured the bud of the first one into my mouth. It was hard and cold against my tongue. Sucking it, I started to tease the other with the cube. Yuriko whimpered but soon, swallowed. Grazing the tip with my fangs, I glanced up. Yuriko quivered, pressing her lips together all flushed. Her eyes met mine, and in that moment a thick aroma of her lust wafted in my nose. 

“Hmmm, enjoying yourself?” I pressed a kiss on her nipple while circling the ice around the other one. I got only a trembling whine as an answer. It was adoring how hard Yuriko tried to stay silent.

Crouching in front of her, I moved the ice under Yuriko’s breast. Without hurry, I trailed it on her belly, watching how she shivered. She tried to pull her stomach in when I reached her belly button but there was no escaping the cooling sensation I tormented her with.

I kissed Yuriko’s abdomen, allowing my gaze to travel south. It was impossible not to smirk when I saw a soaked spot on her panties. “That turned you on, did it not?” I traced the waistband of her tanga, seeing how melting ice made the fabric moist and Yuriko squirm. “It seems that the last piece of your clothing is rather wet. Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“...umh…”

I chuckled. “You are allowed to speak.”

“I… I… a little bit…” Even Yuriko’s voice was shuddering. 

“Hmm… perhaps your master should help you out then…” 

With one swift sway of my hand, I tore the cotton with lace rims and tossed it on the floor. Yuriko’s knees buckled but she managed to balance while I inhaled deeply the luscious scent that lingered from her. It was not even the call of her blood but something else, something equally delicious. Watching her, I glided the ice on her bluish curls between her legs. 

“Oh my gosh!” Yuriko pressed her thighs together and whimpered.

“Shh…” I continued dampening the swirls even more, not minding her meandering. Her aroma was getting stronger, making my pants feel way too tight. Soon, I could not deny my own yearning to shove myself deep into her dewy depths. But first, I wanted to play a bit more, so I tugged down the zipper, relieving the squeeze. 

I tried to nudge my hand between Yuriko’s thighs, but she kept clenching them together. “Are you preventing your master from touching you? I cannot have that…”

Straightening up, I gazed at the woman who shivered before me. Without a doubt, she was the best thing that ever happened to me. Seeing her giving herself into my care, filled me with a joy I had not felt earlier in my life. Nothing compared with the warmth she spread into my endless life that was not so dull anymore.

I dropped the rest of the ice cube back into the glass and grabbed Yuriko by her waist. Hurling her over, I shoved her upper body against the nearby counter, pressing it down. She looked adorable toeing there.

“Hmm… that must be a little uncomfortable for you. A tiny punishment for your disobedience.” Chuckling, I slapped her butt cheek and enjoyed the bounce. Her fingers curled while her wrists were still perfectly secured by my belt. But I was proud of how she managed to swallow her wails.

After spreading her legs, I let Yuriko wait while I captured a new ice cube from the glass. This time she did not try to press them back together. Such a good girl, learned her lesson so fast.

As I glided the ice cube on one of Yuriko’s butt cheeks, a small cry escaped her. Smirking, I realized I wanted to squeeze more out of her, a concert of moans meant for my ears only. Caressing her ass, I showered the squishy skin with kisses and inched the ice over the crevasse of her buttocks. Whimpering, she squirmed, but I kept her pressed against the counter.

Crouching again, I forced Yuriko’s legs even more apart, revealing her glistening petals before me. She smelled of hidden cravings I wished to indulge.

While I wetted her butt with melting ice, I nudged my way between her folds, licking over them and coating my tongue with her creamy lust. Her thighs clasped against my ears, making me chuckle.

“There is no way out now…” I let my words vibrate against the drowning sweetness of her pussy and continued sliding my tongue over her entrance, reaching for the pearl I wished to make weep for release.

I was rewarded with a deep moan, almost like a growl, when my mouth met the moist nub. I sucked it, teasing it with my teeth, gently, not wanting to hurt Yuriko. Her legs shook, her body arching, and she almost soaked my face with her juices. So eager. As I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue, my fingers slipped, losing the grip of the ice cube. Distantly, I heard it dropping on the floor, but I was beyond caring. 

“You taste like heaven.” My voice broke, and I started to eat Yuriko out, squeezing her thighs with both hands and keeping her in the tough position.

Moans filled the kitchen, entangling with Yuriko’s arching and meandering as she turned into a mess by my mouth. I sank my tongue into her, tasting her bliss and pushing my pants down at the same time. My boxers followed, and I could not help but grunt as the aching pressure eased slightly.

“Oh gosh! I… it’s too good! Ruki… I will…!” Yuriko’s pussy pulsated, and I pulled back, heaving. She let out a frustrated wail. “No… I was… I was so… Ruki… please?”

“No. You are not allowed to cum. Not yet.” I groaned, and her scent got only thicker. 

“But Ruki!” Yuriko meandered. I pressed my hand on the small of her back and straightened, gazing at her.

“Your master wants to fuck you, feeling every luscious clench of you. Meaning, you are only allowed to cum when I say so.” I paused, letting my message sink in. “Is that clear, Yuriko?”

“Ehh?! Umh… but… but… what if I can’t… hold back?”

“You can and you will.” I pressed a finger against her entrance and felt the throbbing. Dipping the digit in, I watched her. She flinched, her hands curling into fists and opening again. “And to make this especially delicious, we will train you a little more today.”

Using her juices, I soaked my finger dripping wet before gliding it up her folds and between her buttocks which instantly tensed. “You know what I mean, do you not?”

“I… I… know…” Yuriko quivered on the counter.

“Good. Keep your legs spread wide and take everything your master will give you.” Holding my length, I guided it toward her entrance and slowly nudged it. The heat felt almost unbearable and undownable at the same time. Gradually, inch by inch, I pushed in while circling her other hole with my wettened finger. She clenched, whining as I stretched her and filled her tight depths.

“Fuck, Yuriko!” I was fully in, feeling how her pussy embraced my shaft again and again as if she was already on the edge of her peak. Staying still, I inched my finger a little deeper and pulled it back. Working on her ass like this, I enjoyed every little whine she let out of her mouth, gaping and gasping every time my digit sank deeper. One day, I would thrust my cock there and conquer that part of her too. There would be nothing in her that would not belong to me. 

Finally, I began to move, keeping the same pace with my shaft and my finger. Yuriko wept, her walls clasping me with every lunge. I drowned in her thudding flesh, groaning and growling at how well she was taking me in. 

“Gosh! Please! I can’t…!”

“You… can…!” I shoved in faster and faster. Fuck! Her heat was going to be the end of me. Plucking my finger out, I seized Yuriko’s waist and thrust deep. My loins flared and my balls felt like exploding. “You want to cum?” I grunted, pulling almost completely out, and rammed in again. “How badly?”

“Ahh… Ruki…” Yuriko whined and moaned, sobbing. “So badly…!”

 Digging my fingers into her skin, I buried my shaft deep. “Beg… ngh… for it then.”

In the corners of my mind, I started to hope that Yuriko would beg and cum, for I could not hold much longer. Her closeness was too much, her tempting being too captivating and her squeeze too sweet.

“Ruki, I… I… I’m begging you… please, please… let me… cum!”

Heaving on her nape, I growled. “You can… cum now!” I opened my mouth and pierced Yuriko’s shoulder. She shrieked under me as her blood gushed onto my tongue, squirming and quivering while her pussy clenched so harshly my mind was blown away. Reaching the stars, I shot my load into her, shaking against her back while her liquid of life flowed into me. 

And just then… something warm and fuzzy, something soft and furry popped between us, tickling against my stomach. Slowly coming down from my high, I tried to comprehend. Shivering, Yuriko panted under me when I hastily sealed the new wound with my saliva and lifted my head. 

The first, I saw the ears. White and blue fox ears sticking out of her head. Glancing down, I noticed the blue tip of a tail that peeked under my stomach. A chuckle crumbled out of me as I pulled out and watched Yuriko. “That good?”

Sobbing and panting, she gazed at me over her shoulder and nodded. Behind her glasses, her amber eyes greeted me along with the deep blush on her cheeks. She had never looked more beautiful. All fucked and her inner being set free. I knew that no one else could ever satisfy me better… and I would make sure it would always be the other way around as well. Forever, I would keep her as mine.

With haste, I opened my belt, releasing Yuriko. I lifted her in my arms and teleported directly into our bedroom. I took her glasses, put them on the nightstand, and laid her on the bed, cuddling her and stroking her ears. Her tail swayed as I held her close.

“Yuriko…” My voice sounded strained in my own ears. “You have made me yours. I promise that I will cherish you. We will be together at all times, and I never let go of you, for you have made my dull life full and stolen my heart. I love you.”

Weeping sweetly, Yuriko curled against me. She wrapped her tiny arm around my body, pressing closer. “I love you too, Ruki. You are my greatest happiness.” 

I had found my luck and my answer. No matter what would happen I knew I would always choose Yuriko. Even if it would be our doom. For she was my everything.

[amberlide]

A Christmas gift

I know is kink-october, but I'm not good with kinks, so I made a fluffy smut single story about the first time between my beloved Garreth and Penelope from my fanfiction. They are aged up of course :)

As the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts were fast approaching, and the Gryffindor common room was almost empty, Leander decided to sleep in the sixth year dorm, leaving theirs empty as a gift to Garreth. He really hoped his friend would finally enjoy his night with Penelope...

Minor please stay away, only +18

Tags: first time sex, fluffy smut. Words count: 5.7K It's quite long! :O English is not my first language so there are few mistakes here, sorry AO3 link --> this version had been edited :)

“Do you think she’s… ready?” Garreth cast a nervous look at Leander while they were packing their things. Christmas holidays were almost here, and the dormitory was already empty except for the two of them.

A heavy sigh escaped Leander as he stowed all his clothes in his trunk, closing it with a loud thud. “Weasley, please…” he rolled his eyes and sat on the trunk, “it’s two days I’ve found you two snogging half naked on your bed, if trying to take off your shirt every afternoon for a week doesn’t scream ready, then I don’t know what else!” he exclaimed. 

It was exasperating to see his friend so uncertain about something that surely wasn’t.

He had reached the point where he dreaded entering the dormitory, fearing of what he might find or might not find in particular clothes on his friend…

“Listen, tomorrow we leave for Christmas holidays, so tonight is just us two. I’m going to sleep in one of the sixth year’s bed and I leave the dorm to you. Free, for one night. Ask Penelope to sleep with you and see for yourself,” he pointed one finger on the palm of his hand, “tonight, or never Weasley!” he underlined his words with a decisive look.

Garreth nodded while folding his uniforms, “Thanks Lee!” 

Leander rose to his feet and headed for the exit. "Do it!" he exclaimed, shutting the door behind him, already sensing doubt around his friend.

-----

“So…” Penelope settled onto the squashy sofa next to the fireplace, her body sinking into the crimson pillows. The warmth from the flames turned her cheeks a rosy hue. She had a particular fondness for the Gryffindor common room, perhaps even preferring it to the Hufflepuff one. However, the drafts from the tower always made her shiver whenever she ventured away from the fireside.

After wrapping up a game of magic chess and chatting about holiday plans, the common room had emptied, leaving just the three of them.

“So…” Garreth scratched his head, shooting a look at Leander who appeared increasingly exasperated by his attitude. Packing the last chess pieces into a small velvet satchel and tucking the board under his arm, Leander announced, “I’m going to bed!” he rose his voice trying to give an hint to his friend, “It’s late, and I’ve got a long day tomorrow. We're visiting Aunt Sophie for Christmas, and trust me, it's going to be dreadfully dull. So, good night!” it wasn't truly that late, and so he might just curl up in bed and read something.

Garreth had insisted on lending Leander his novel, "The Adventure of Emerald Quill." Even though he showed genuine interest in the genre, his friend had inadvertently spoiled most of the plot, dampening his enthusiasm.

"Goodnight, Lee,” Garreth called out, raising a hand in farewell as Leander disappeared up the stairs of the tower.

Turning his attention to Penelope, their eyes met and she offered him a soft smile. Tilting her head, she reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek. "Are you all right? You seem… nervous,” she murmured. Drawn to her, he settled next to her on the sofa, reveling in the gentle warmth of her touch. He really, really wanted to enjoy the whole warmth of her skin on his, but he felt too embarrassed to ask.

“Maybe you’re just tired, shall we go to bed?” he saw her trying to rise from the sank position on the sofa, he didn’t want her to leave, after all, Leander had made it abundantly clear that tonight might be his only chance.

He gently grasped her arm, pulling her towards him. Caught off guard, Penelope stumbled and ended up in his embrace. Their initial surprise melted away as they locked eyes, and Garreth tenderly leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips, avoiding her glasses in the process.

She felt Penelope relax beneath his touch, and she responded to his kiss without hesitation, parting her lips, brushing her tongue against his.

Its stomach twisted and turned.

He wanted her, and Leander was right, if she was willing to give, why not taking?

After all, he had prepared and taken that potion for three days now, so it was a waste of time and good resources not use it at his full potential. 

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” his voice was low, rougher than usual, as he sought to read her reaction to his proposal. She gave him an embarrassed smile, glancing towards the stairs behind him. "What about Lee?"

"He's in the sixth-year dorm," he explained. Leaning in, he brushed his nose gently against her ear. "Mine is free,” he murmured leaving a trace of goosebumps on her skin with his warmth breath.

Garreth felt Penelope stiffen. “Are you… sure?” she asked, but more than scared, she seemed intrigued by the prospective. She was fully aware of the consequences and a mischievous glint was sparkling her hazel eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. He raised his hand and brushed away a lock of soft brown hair from her forehead, following the strand and gently tucking it behind her ear, nodding as he lost himself in the tenderness of her gaze.

“Then why not?” 

He saw her jump up and extend her hand for him to take. Without wasting time, they soon found themselves chuckling nervously as they climbed the stairs leading to the dorm, trying to stifle their laughs at the prospective of breaking so many rules in such a short time, accomplices in yet another adventure.

They paused just before the door to the seventh-year dorm. Garreth's hand trembled on the handle. This was his moment, and he had to be ready to lead her, even if it was his first time he…

“Hey, you don’t really think to do this alone, do you?”

Surprise danced on his face; at times, it genuinely seemed as if she could read his mind. Without hesitation, she opened the door, leading him into the round room. The space, adorned with five four-poster beds, was dimly lit by a dying lamp on Garreth's nightstand.

The atmosphere was perfect, inviting almost. 

“It’s a first time for both, I’m not expecting it to be perfect. I’m also nervous,” she confessed, “but I’ll be fun, ‘cause your fun and I love you for this!” she raised on tiptoe and kiss him again, holding herself on his broad shoulders. “Come, let’s take turns!”

“Turns?” Garreth looked at her clearly puzzled by her words, following Penelope next to his bed, and watching her taking off her shoes, “Well, I’m not going to stay here and let you undress me,” she started, crouching while pulling the strings of her winter boots, “so I will end up naked and shivering. I want to enjoy the view too,” she smirked underlying her words with a playful wink.

He nodded, an intrigued glint in his green eyes. Penelope was always the one to take the initiative; she was far from meek, and that drove him wild. But her eagerness also helped relieve the pressure and lighten the mood. So, when she stepped closer and began to untie his tie, he didn't protest. Instead, he stood still, enjoying the delicate motions of her small fingers as they worked to undo the knot.

He stifled a chuckle at her focused expression, noticing the small furrow between her brows. She had never been good at adjusting her tie, at the beginning he thought it was just a way of pretending to be more boyish, to better disguised herself as a male student, but he soon realized that she really didn’t have a clue on how to do it.

“Let me help you,” he lowered himself and put an arm around her waist, dragging her closer, and planting a trail of soft kisses on her neck, “Garreth, please…” she pleaded, her voice already tinged with excitement and anticipation, but he didn’t care, with the other hand he loosened his tie, eager to move forward. He could clearly feel the warmth of her body calling him to temptation through the fabric of her clothes, and he really wanted to take off that fluffy jumper to expose the bust that was holding her breast. It would take hours to unlace it.

He took a step forward, leaning into her, and as predicted, she lost her balance. They both landed on his bed, a laugh escaping her throat. "You are a devil!" she complained, pulling herself up and finally removing his tie, proceeding then to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. 

This time she worked faster, and as soon as she managed to exposed his broad shoulders, she leaned forward and kissed his neck, grazing at the freckled skin of his chest, brushing the few ginger hair, inhaling his scent of lavender soap, inked parchment and what she recognized as wiggen tree bark with a hint of ginger. 

It was enough to stir her feelings, and she felt her heartbeat quickening, the warmth in her stomach growing, as well as the pulsing sensation between her thighs, forcing her to squeeze her legs. She felt his hand on her knee, the heavy textile of her stocking were not enough to keep the warmth of his fingers at bay, as it seeped though it. 

Garreth perceived Penelope breath caressing his ear, before her tongue brushed its lobe, and started to gently sucking it between her lips. She knew what she was doing, a soft sigh escaped his lips, feeling himself tensing under her touch, he needed a distraction or she would surely drove him mad. He started moving forward, slowly reaching up from her knee to her thigh, he felt her stopping in her endeavor and smiled to himself, but he didn’t stop. He continued sensing the warmth growing as he was approaching a much desired spot.

Penelope quivered, but she didn’t want him to win, so she removed his shirt completely admiring his pale skin, she wanted to kiss every single one of those soft brown spots… She moved her hand over his chest and absently brushed her finger over a little nipple. 

She heard him stifling a laugh, “Please Pen, you know that tingles,” he whispered, “Sure,” she answered with a glint in her eyes, “because what you’re doing is not…” “It would take ages to unlace your bust you know, at least give me something to look forward.” 

“Who said I’m wearing one?”

Garreth widened his eyes and lower his gaze from her face to her chest, he swallowed, the thought of her soft little breasts already free from that rigid trap under her bulky jumper made him twitch in his pants. 

“How…”

“Not that I don’t like wearing one, but after one year without it I feel more comfortable without, and I hoped nobody noticed under this,” she pointed to her jumper. 

He surely didn’t notice, but now that he knew, it was definitely his turn.

“Mmm… let me check…”

He retreated his hands from beneath her skirt and started to travel up her hips, intently gazing in her eyes, while admiring their soft glow and cloudy desire. Her skin was soft, a bit colder than her thighs, but he knew how to warm her up, he bent over and kissed her lips, this time hungrier and rougher than before, biting gently as he invaded her mouth with his tongue.

Her cheeks flushed, as she sensed his hands traveling slowly up under her jumper, she wanted to focus on that feeling, but Garreth kiss was too intense to ignore. She hold herself against him, sensing her glasses askew on the bridge of her nose, she surely needed to remove them.

His tongue was eager, demanding almost, searching for her, he never kissed her that way, and she liked how he was putting aside his nervousness to please and arouse her.

His hands found her breast, covered only by a light cotton blouse, he knew very well that was the only barrier between her skin and his hungry touch, but it was okay for now. He cupped both little breasts in the palm of his hands, appreciating their round tender forms and immediately feeling her nipples hardening to his assault. 

It was not the first time he had touched them, he knew very well how she liked it, but he never dared to ask her to take off her clothes, so he was eager to admire them in full, open air, even if the light was dimming in the dorm. 

Still, he wanted to take his time, savoring the moment, despite that devilish wool that was starting to itch the skin of his arms. He started pinching lightly the sensitive tips, and he felt Penelope whimpering in surprise while still locked in their kiss, trying to distance herself to fully enjoy that torture, but he didn’t want to let her go, so he moved a hand on her waist and gently pushed her towards him so she couldn’t escape. 

He took a small tip between his fingers, brushing it with his thumb, and pull. She moaned, his smiled widened, and he felt her hands clenched on his shoulder, her fingertips digging in his skin. He broke the kiss, now he wanted to check her face, see her mouth quivering with pleasure, her eyes pleading for more, her breath starting to grow heavier with every little pull. 

As soon as he did it, he felt Penelope head leaning on his shoulder, he stopped, realizing how overwhelmed she were, he started to be afraid that it was just too much for her to bear. After all, they had reached this point in just a few hours, when it had taken nearly a year for them to start feeling comfortable with each other bodies to the point where kissing was merely enough. 

He didn’t want to push her boundaries. 

He took his hands out from beneath her jumper.

“Penny, are you okay?” he brushed her hair, whispering lightly in her ear, he saw her nodding, “I’m so…” “No, don’t be,” she interrupted him, before raising her head, her cheeks were a deeper shade of pink, her eyes glowing with warm pleasure. 

“I’m fine. I didn’t expect it to be so…” she swallowed hard, “good,” she exhaled, the heat between her leg was almost unbearable now and she could feel a wet spot forming on her underwear. 

“You know we can just slip under the cover and go to bed…” he proposed, not that he wanted, and if she did, well, a short visit to the toilet was in order before snugging in with her. 

She laughed, “Not a chance!” she exclaimed, they were already too far to stop, “Is that ginger that I smell?” Garreth blushed and nodded averting his gaze and passing a hand on his neck, “I had to, you know…” her grin widened, “I know that brew takes ages to prepare, so no, we are not going to waste all your effort,” she mocked him and with a glint in her eyes she took off her jumper, leaving a flurry of static-electricity sparks in the process.

The admiration in his eyes was evident as he took in the sight of her chest, barely covered by the half transparent shirt, her plump and hard nipples tearing the soft fabric, poking out and almost teasing him to move forward. 

No, Penelope was definitely ready for that, maybe more than him.

“So, it’s still my turn?” he joked twitching his eyebrow, “Barely, you still have few minutes,” she replied casting a look at the decorative hourglass on the nightstand, a gift from their shared past.  With a wink she turned it over.

She had just the time to take off her glasses that Garreth was already kissing her neck, brushing his nose against her sensitive skin, biting softly and traveling up her hips once again. She squealed in surprise when they both landed on the bed, flat, against the pillows, she didn’t have time to recover, her shirt was fast half-unbuttoned and her breasts were free in the chilly air or the dorm.

Surely, it wasn't the drafts from the windows causing her cheeks to flush and her nipples so hard, most likely the hungry gaze of Garreth on top of her. 

“Sorry, so much to do and so little time,” he smirked before lowering on her and start kissing her stomach, traveling slowly up. Penelope shivered, trembling in anticipation and when his mouth reached one of her tips, she couldn’t trap the whimper in the back of her throat and let it escaped, igniting Garreth desire. 

She lock her hand in his ginger curls, arching her back, offering herself while his tongue was brushing, swirling, teasing, and slowly biting her. She felt so wet and messy, desperate for keeping a semblance of composure, she closed her eyes, but it only amplified the sensations coming from her hot skin and his eager licks. 

Her nipple was growing harder and harder between his lips and before moving to the other, he stopped for a moment to admire its deep crimson hue again the white of her skin, glinting wet from his saliva, he swallowed, it was almost too much for him as well. But Lee gave him only that night, so he had to press forward. He started to travel down again, ready to take off her skirt, when Penelope turned abruptly on her side. 

“Not so fast Brewsley,” she teased him, he let out a resigned sigh and raised on the covers, barely resisting the temptation of lowering his mouth again to give another lick, she always called him Brewsley when she wanted his full attention. He’d always pretended not to like that nickname, but it was a fun pun indeed, and Lee quickly grew jealous for not having thought of it first.

Penelope grinned, “My time,” the surety in her voice, was betrayed by the slightly trembling of her hands, he followed them until they reached the buckle of his belt. He tried not to smile at the sloppy attempts to unfasten it, not that she didn’t know how to do it, but she was evidently nervous and despite her goodwill, he could sense her trepidation and fear. 

Once she managed, he quietly rose to his feet, the bulge between his legs was evident, and he stood silent, giving her space and time to decide how she wanted to proceed. Surely, she had felt it countless of time before, against her thigh, her belly, the back of her hand, maybe once also against her butt, but that was uncalled for and totally unexpected. 

He blushed remembering how once she saw him half naked diving and swimming in the river with his brothers, but she was pretending to be a boy at that time so he didn’t realize how much embarrassed she must have been. 

This was a totally different story.

The air between them tensed, as Penelope slowly unfastened the first button of his trousers carefully avoiding touching more than she could handle. Her fingers moved to the second button, than the third, as she was holding her breath longer with each one. Finally, she reached the last one and in a burst of courage, she grasped at the side of his trousers and pull them down. 

He wanted to say something funny to lighten the mood, but he held back, Penelope was surely mustering the courage to continue and he didn’t want to press her or give her the impression of being impatient or even making fun of her. So when she stood and ask for a kiss he didn’t expect her hand to travel from his stomach to his underwear gently feeling him. 

He kissed her softly, holding her against his bare chest, feeling the warmth of her skin and her exposed breasts, realizing she was just trying to distract herself, making that mechanical gesture more intimate, and participated. 

Garreth closed his eyes, as her hand kept stroking him from over the fabric, gently assessing his length, his width, his firmness… He felt a warm drop escaping from his tip, gushing out, and he faltered, hoping she would not retreat disgusted by something he wasn’t able to control.

But he heard her chuckling, against his lips, “You’re almost as wet as me,” she joked, and with that she plunged in the depth of his underwear, this time without any hesitation or shame. 

Her hand felt the warmth of his skin, she briefly travel up and down, than in the back, squeezing his buttcheeks with a giggle, before deciding she had enough and proceed to remove that last piece of clothing leaving it dropping down together with his trousers. 

He stepped out of his clothes.

Now he was completely naked and she was half dressed. 

“Do you think it’s fair?” he mumbled opening his arms as she stepped back taking in his figure, he noticed how her eyes were desperately trying not to look down, but she was undoubtedly attracted by his virility. The idea made him even more excited.

Penelope sank in the bed, and hit her cheek with her index finger, faking a thoughtful expression, “Yes, for now. Come here, I haven’t finished yet,” she smiled patting the spot on the covers next to her. Garreth promptly obeyed, as soon as he did it, she leant and took him in her hand, keeping a steady and intense gaze, drinking in his green eyes.

His heart jumped in his chest at that sudden move, he didn’t expect her to be so direct after the time she took it before. He felt her hand moving up and down his shaft, then her thumb followed one of the biggest bluish veins until it reached the tip, he hold his breath.

She exposed the soft skin under it, it was a nice shade of crimson and glistening with his juices. She rolled her thumb on it, feeling him tensing under her touch, she had never seen one before, so she was eager to explore his body discovering his full potential. 

“Does it hurt? Stop me if it does,” she murmured, her voice faint with worries, he shook his head unable to answer, he passed an arm around her and moved her closer, just a simple gesture to let her understand how much he was appreciating her efforts, especially when she started to move her other hand between his thighs, grazing at his balls. It was definitely too much to bear and he didn’t want to sink in his own pleasure before giving her hers.

“Can we… can we move forward?” he pleaded, feeling the gentle thugs becoming more rushed and the increasing pressure around its tip, if she continued that way, it was surely going to come. 

Penelope released him at once, her cheeks hot, she knew what was coming, and after feeling so at ease with her exposed chest, she was confident that getting fully undressed would not be so difficult.

Still, the thought made her nervous, and Garreth read it in her eyes, as he kissed her again, gently moving his hands up her skirt, “Shall we remove this stocking first?” he suggested against her lips, she nodded trying to relax under his touch, she was quivering lightly, “Are you cold?” he was definitely not cold, not after what she did, but maybe she wasn’t as excited as him…

“A little bit,” she admitted. He took a moment to lower the canopy of the four-poster bed, providing them with a sense of intimacy. The soft light from the lantern on the nightstand, glowing in the darkness, created the perfect atmosphere.

“Better, thanks,” she whispered laying on the covers ready for whatever he had in mind. If she thought Garreth would be more decisive than her, she was surely wrong, despite his eagerness he still felt a bit embarrassed and once he took out her stockings, his hands became more unsure around the strip of her skirt.

She felt it and gently asked him to lay next to her, she looked him in the eyes, admiring the shimmering of his green irises under the warm glow of the lantern. She brushed his hair, taking a moment to let her heart slow its beat while stroking the soft silk of his ginger curls, wrapping one around her finger. She caressed his cheek, trying to count the myriad of freckles on his faces. They  stood still for a moment, then Garreth moved forward and kissed her once again, intrigued by the gentle gaze of her slightly almond-shaped eyes, an inheritance of her grandmother, and the inviting curving of her pink lips. He wanted her so badly… 

The kiss deepened as his hand travelled once more from her shoulder to her hips, brushing her nipple in its journey to her thigh, he raised the fabric of her skirt with renew purpose, moving it up. Her skin, now exposed, was cold, so he bend one knee and covered her with his thigh; the feeling of their naked body pressed together, released more sparkles, especially because he knew she must feel it pressing on her stomach. He kept moving, reaching her underwear, then creeping under them, one centimeter at a time, feeling the warmth increasing at the tip of his fingers the more he was digging into her secrets. 

He felt a tuft of hair and saw Penelope widened her eyes gasping, before closing them again, relaxing and hiding in the nook of his shoulder, “Shall I…?” he noticed her nodding, still hidden, so he continued, feeling her legs tensing up. He stroked her lips gently, almost asking for permission before plunging in. He felt her wet folds and brushed his knuckle against them, sensing her little clit tightening, while his hand was becoming more and more slick with her juices. 

She wasn’t joking, she was wet… and just from the little teasing moment they had.

He moved his thumb up, pressing it gently on her nub, she quivered and whimpered, he could hear her heart pumping against his chest, furiously. He desperately wanted to see the look on her face, check her eyes, but he didn’t dare to ask, so he kept stroking with little gentle movements, assessing her reactions. Was she liking it?

He felt her hand grappling at his arm once again, a soft moan escaped her throat, while her fingernails dug in his skin leaving red marks, yes, she was definitely liking it. He increased the pressure, eager to slip a finger inside her, savoring every part of that warm aroused body, when he finally did it, she tensed once again. 

“Don’t… don’t stop. Please,” he heard her, almost pleading, he didn’t. He kept stroking her gently, circling her clit with the tip of his thumb while lightly pumping his finger inside her, sensing her tight walls clenching. A wet sound escaped form her intimacy, and she heard her whining, 

“It’s okay, Pen, don’t be ashamed,” he whispered, fearing she was too embarrassed to enjoy the moment.

Penelope raised her head, the heat coming from Garreth’s chest was becoming almost unbearable, her stomach was turning and she started to feel the waves of what she believed was one of the most powerful orgasms she had ever experienced. But of course, she wasn’t sure, caught up in the moment as she was, she barely remembered how to breathe.

She just knew she trusted him as she had alway done, and that he wasn’t disappointing her.

The pressure increased between her legs, his fingers were moving faster, steadier, bringing her on the verge of the abyss, closing her eyes, her let herself go. She had waited that moment for months, so she just clenched her fist and let a moan escape her lips as the center of her pleasure started to pulse, the contractions becoming closer and closer. 

If this was just the beginning, what was coming next?

Almost losing her mind in the intensity of the orgasm, she soon tried to recompose herself.

Quivering lightly she closed her legs and Garreth understood that she had enough, but as soon as he retread his finger, now slicked from her juices, he felt Penelope pushing him away.

Taken by surprise, fearing he did something wrong, he rolled on the bed with his back on the covers, he didn’t have the time to understand what was happening, or even ask her what was going on, that she was on top of him, her warm and wet entrance pressed against the tip of his shaft. 

He widened his eyes, puzzled, what was happening?

He glanced up at Penelope, her face hidden by cascading hair. Gently brushing the strands aside and tucking the longest tresses behind her ears, he caught a mischievous smirk gracing her lips, “Do you really think I was letting you do all the work?” she mocked him, lowering herself and pinning her hand on his shoulder while gently moving herself up and down along his length, making it slippery and wetter with every stroke. 

He almost choked, while tying to swallow hard, his exposed and sensitive tip was prodding her entrance, sending him shivers whenever she rocked her hips. 

She truly was something.

In his desperate attempt to distract himself, as he was sure he was going to explode sooner or later, as the sight of her clit brushing against him was too much, he raised his arms, his hands searching for her breasts. He had just the time to stroke her nipples, that Penelope grabbed his wrists, “Not a chance,” she murmured and taking his hands off of her, she lower herself pinning him to the bed, with her nipples caressing his chest, but that was exactly what lead her to her doom.

She was clearly in a precarious position as she was stretched all the way down and in the attempt to keeping him in place, she was loosing her grip on him. Despite her clenching her thighs, it took no effort from Garreth to turn his hips and flip her over.

Penelope sinked on the mattress as a soft cry escaped her lips, Garreth quickly moved his knee between her legs to prevent her from closing them, “I think it’s time to end this little game,” he whispered, his voice rough and coarse, and lowering his body he gently pressed it against her, he felt her spreading her knees inviting him to continue, while nodding, she had enough as well.

They lock eyes for a brief moment, while Garreth stroke himself again against her drenched folds, parting them and gently pushing, feeling her entrance tightening. “We don’t need to do it,” he reminded her, he wanted to give her a last chance to back up before it was too late.

She didn’t answer, but she extended her hand and gently caressed his cheek, before raising and kissing him again, he knew it was his cue, still locked in the kiss he lower his hips and slowly started to make his way inside her. Pushing and retreating, little by little, he managed to finally get his way in, she was warm, tight and slippery, she was perfectly wrapping him, like a soft embrace.

He heard her whimper, and when she land on her back breaking the kiss, her eyes were closed, and the muscles on her neck tense. She was surely trying to resist for his sake. He almost wanted to pull out, if it had to be painful for her, he wasn’t interested anymore.

But after a few seconds Penelope opened her eyes, the tears glistening in them were pushed away by her tender smile, “Do you mind? I can’t move,” she tried to joke, and he nodded starting to gently rock his hips, leaving her room to adjust to the new feeling with every push.

Penelope inhaled sharply as the pain in her belly subsided, leaving behind a new feeling, she was full and ripen, her body ready for that new experience. She grapple at Garreth hips and start to gently move with him, the warmth in her stomach deepened as the sensation between her legs grew sharper and more intense with every move. 

She find herself transported into a new whirlwind of stimuli, she wasn’t sure how to define them, but she surely liked them, her body at least was. As Garreth pleasure grew more intense with every pump, she also felt it, he was loosing his composure and his eyes were faltering, his focus on a totally different spot. 

As he plunged deeper into her, she arched her back, widened her eyes in surprise, was that supposed to be so… intense? She didn’t expect it, she couldn’t keep the grip on his hips anymore, so she just grabbed the cover of the bed and closed her eyes feeling his breath growing more heavier with every movement.

Garreth knew he couldn’t last longer, she was already tensing under him, her walls tightening once more, but when she bend her knees making herself smaller, it was then that he completely lost it. “Pen…” he whisper desperately, “I know, I’m fine,” a soft reassuring smile danced on her lips, her eyes full of pleasure and untold desire, even if she wasn’t coming yet, they knew there was still time to enjoy themselves. 

He bit his lip, pushing once more, basking in the beauty of the girl behind him, completely spread and undone for him. He sense a drop of sweat forming on his forehead, but his thoughts were all for the turning and churning in his groin. He was almost there, he reached the verge with a last thrust moaning and almost cursing under his breath.

When he finally finished, releasing himself in her, he tried to keep his balance, but finally toppled over landing on his back beside her. Penelope rolled over him, resting her head on his chest, she was exhausted. 

“I definitely have something to look forward now after my holidays,” she joked, and Garreth chuckled ruffling her hair, still catching his breath. 

“I don’t know if Leander would agree with that, but this was surely a nice gift from him,” they both laugh, sweaty and happy.

They both knew that was jus the begging of a total new adventure.